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shame (IV. 83) and boasting I could subdue the omnipotent. Ay me,
they little know how dearly I abide that boast so vain, under what
torments inwardly I groan (IV. 86 89) and yet again he allows
pride to triumph. The prideful liar has become so adept that he fools
even himself, just as when in foolish blinding arrogance he trusted
himself to equal God in power (VI. 344). And thus lower still [Satan]
falls, only supreme in misery (IV. 91 92) as he repeats that silly,
futile aspiration: Divided empire with heavens king I hold by thee,
and more than half perhaps will reign (IV. 111 112). So farewell
hope, and with hope farewell fear, farewell remorse: all good to me is
lost. In a wish that is really its own fulfillment our so-called hero
intones, Evil be thou my good (IV. 108 110). In stupidity, evil, and
pride, Satan condemns himself with another nail in the coffin. Nothing
will follow but misery, despair, sin, and death.
Some hero.