“In the reproof of chance lies the true poof of men: the sea being smooth, how many shallow bauble boats dare sail upon her patient breast, making their way with those of nobler bulk! But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage the gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold the strong-ribb’d bark through liquid mountains cut, bounding between the two moist elements, like Perseus’ horse: where’s then the saucy boat, whose weak untimber’d sides but even now co-rivall’d greatness? either to harbour fled or made a toast for Neptune. Even so doth valour’s show and valour’s worth divide in storms of fortune: for in her ray and brightness the herd hath more annoyance by the breeze than by the tiger: but when the splitting wind makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, and flies fled under shade,—why, then the thing of courage, as rous’d with rage, with rage doth sympathize, and with an accent tun’d in self-same key retorts to chiding fortune.” – William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida 1.3