...but come bad chance And wee joyne to it our strength And wee teach it art and length It selfe o'er us to advance. - John Donne

I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in and invite God and his angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his angels, for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door.

Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke.

Though Truth and Falsehood be Near twins, yet Truth a little elder is.