Shakespeare

Oh, my offence is rank. It smells to heaven. It hath the primal eldest curse upon t, A brothers murder. Pray can I not. Though inclination be as sharp as will, My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, 40 And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursd hand 45 Were thicker than itself with brothers blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy 50 But to confront the visage of offence? And whats in prayer but this twofold force, To be forestalld ere we come to fall Or pardoned being down? Then Ill look up. My fault is past. But oh, what form of prayer Can serve my turn, Forgive me my foul murder? 55 That cannot be, since I am still possessed Of those effects for which I did the murder: My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 60 May one be pardoned and retain th' offense? In the corrupted currents of this world Offenses gilded hand may shove by justice,

Revised
Oh my crime is so awful it reaches heaven. It is like the first murder from Cain to Abel His own brother. I can not pray. Even though I despereatly want to,

But my guilt is stronger than my will

And like someone who has to do two things at once I must stand still and forget them both This hand of my is forever stained with my brother And his blood that I took from him Is there not rain in heaven that can wash my cursed Hand white as snow? What then is Gods mercy for Does not prayer serve with two purposes One from keeping man from entering hell or sinning Against him and the other to be forgiven Of his sins? But I have decided to pray For I have already committed my sin, what prayer Is of use to me? Oh God forgive me of murder

No that wont work because I am still benefiting

From the murder I committed: my kingdom, my Reputation, and my queen. Can one still be forgiven if he still keeps these? In this wicked world, Theifs often use the money They stole to bribe the lawkeepers .

65 And oft tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law. But tis not so above. There is no shuffling. There the action lies 70 In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then? What rests? Try what repentance can. What can it not? Yet what can it when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limd soul that, struggling to be free, Art more engaged! Help, angels. Make assay. Bow, stubborn knees, and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe. All may be well. (kneels)

In order to maintain their worldy possesions But not in heaven, there every action is judeged Accordingly and people are forced to confront it So what are we to do? What can I do? What is Left for me to do? It wouldnt hurt to ask for Forgiveness for what sins are left. Oh but it

Wouldnt help either to ask for forgiveness

To the Lord for my crimes. Oh this horrible position I am in. The more my Soul struggles to be free, the more it is stuck Help my heavenly beings Oh bend stubborn knees Give me a new heart like that of a babies Perhaps then all may be well.