I left these late repentants, (as it appeared) in exchange for worse, which were shut up in a base court, and the nastiest that ever I saw. These were such as had ever in their mouths, “God is merciful, and will pardon me.” “How can this be,” said I, “that these people should be damned? when condemnation is an act of justice, not of mercy.” “I perceive you are simple,” quoth the devil, “for half these you see here, are condemned with the mercy of God in their mouths. And to explain myself, consider I pray’e how many sinners are there, that go on in their ways, in spite of reproof, and good counsel; and still this is their answer, ‘God is merciful, and will not damn a soul for so small a matter.’ But let them talk of mercy as they please, so long as they persist in a wicked life, we are like to have their company at last.” “By your argument,” said I, “there’s no trusting to Divine Mercy.” “You mistake me,” quoth the devil, “for every good thought and work flows from that mercy. But this I say: He that perseveres in his wickedness, and makes use of the name of mercy, only for a countenance to his impieties, does but mock the Almighty, and has no title to that mercy. For ’tis vain to expect mercy from above, without doing anything in order to it. It properly belongs to the righteous and the penitent; and they that have the most of it upon the tongue have commonly the least thought of it in their hearts: and ’tis a great aggravation of guilt, to sin the more, in confidence of an abounding mercy. It is true that many are received to mercy, that are utterly unworthy of it, which is no wonder, since no man of himself can deserve it: but men are so negligent of seeking it betimes, that they put that off to the last, which should have been the first part of their business; and many times their life is at end, before they begin their repentance.” I did not think so damned a doctor could have made so good a sermon. And there I left him. I came next to a noisome dark hole, and there I saw a company of dyers, all in dirt and smoke, intermixed with the devils, and so alike that it would have posed the subtlest inquisitor in Spain to have said, which were the devils and which the dyers.