So here he lies at the last. The deathbed convert. The pious debauchee. Could not dance a half measure, could I? Give me wine,
I drain the dregs and toss the empty bottle at the world. Show me our Lord Jesus in agony and I mount the cross and steal his
nails for my own palms. There I go, shuffling from the world. My dribble fresh upon the bible. I look upon a pinhead and I see angels
dancing. Well? Do you like me now? Do you like me now? Do you like me now? Do you like me... now?
[John Wilmot 2nd earl of Rochester, the libertine]