despair sets in at the patriotic sporting endeavours staged with the casualties of imperialist adventures. At first Griffin cannot choose between hiding and revenge, before realising that his abilities allow him to do both.
Go up to London, to London, that great City, write, write, write. And behold I writ, and lo a hand was sent to me, and a roll of book was therein, which this fleshly hand would have put wings to, before the time. Whereupon it was snatcht out of my hand, & the Roll thrust into my mouth, and I eat it up, and filled my bowels with it, where it was as bitter as worm-wood; and it lay broiling, and burning in my stomack, till I brought it forth in this forme.
And now I send it flying to thee, with my heart, And all.