He busied himself in planning ineffectual schemes for escaping both present and future punishment.
Of the first there was no possibility; Of the second Despair made him neglect the only means.

While Reason forced him to acknowledge a God's existence, Conscience made him doubt the infinity of his goodness.

He disbelieved that a Sinner like him could find mercy.

He had not been deceived into error: Ignorance could furnish him with no excuse.

He had seen vice in her true colours; Before He committed his crimes, He had computed every scruple of their weight; and yet he had committed them.
'Pardon ?' He would cry in an access of phrenzy 'Oh! there can be none for me!' Persuaded of this, instead of humbling himself in penitence, of deploring his guilt, and employing his few remaining hours in deprecating Heaven's wrath, He abandoned himself to the transports of desperate rage; He sorrowed for the punishment of his crimes, not their commission; and exhaled his bosom's anguish in idle sighs, in vain lamentations, in blasphemy and despair.