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Updated: September 19, 2025
Here presumptuous arrogance and haughtiness of spirit are specified as the root and source of the great transgression. Shakespeare takes up this thought: "Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels: how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?" And Milton repeats it in the magnificent lines:
I like to see a thing done well if it's to be done at all; and there ain't a stitch o' land been laid right on the hull farm, nor a furrow driv' as it had ought to be, since he come on to it; and I say, Squire Springer, a man ain't going to get along in that way, and he hadn't ought to. I work hard myself, and I calculate to work hard; and I make a livin by't; and I'm content to work hard.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by't? Love thyself last: Cherish those hearts that hate thee: Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues; be just, and fear not.
The parsonage here's a tumble-down place, sir, not fit for gentry to live in. He comes here to preach of a Sunday afternoon, sir, an' puts up his hoss here. It's a grey cob, sir, an' he sets great store by't. He's allays put up his hoss here, sir, iver since before I hed the Donnithorne Arms. I'm not this countryman, you may tell by my tongue, sir.
Then I coome across th' old flute, and it seemed to say, "I'll help thee agen." "Nay, owd brid," I said, "tha cornd. It's noan brass this time, it's mi lad." And th' owd flute seemed to say, "Try me." So I tuk it up, and put it to mi lips and blew yi, aat of a sad heart, Mr. Penrose but it wor reet. Th' owd flute gi' me back mi prayer grace for grace, as yo' parsons say, whatever yo' mean by't.
I am glad he has told me my Christian name. Sir Feeb. Sir Cautious, know my Nephew 'tis a young St. Omers Scholar but none of the Witnesses. Sir Cau. Marry, Sir, and the wiser he; for they got nothing by't. Bea. Sir, I love and honour you, because you are a Traveller. Sir Feeb. Bel. That's been my study, Sir. Sir Feeb. And you will not be proud, but will be commanded by me, Francis? Bel.
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