Luck is the residue of design.
Hail holy light, offspring of heav'n firstborn!
Time is the subtle thief of youth.
His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd.
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, consult how we may henceforth most offend.
And out of good still to find means of evil.