Donne was a mountebank who wrapped up his lack of meaning in hard words.

That wasn't funny! You really scared me! I hope you're happy.

And your true rights be termed a poet's rage

He had always been remarkably immune from such little ailments, and had only once in his life been ill, of a vicious pneumonia long ago at school. He hadn't the faintest idea what to with a cold in the head, he just took quinine and continued to blow his nose.