Ah fair Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate, Fair is too foul an epithet for thee.

Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?

Ah fair Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate, Fair is too foul an epithet for thee.

Above our life we love a steadfast friend.

It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.

Faustus: Stay, Mephistopheles, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord? Mephistopheles: Enlarge his kingdom. Faustus: Is that the reason he tempts us thus? Mephistopheles: Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. (It is a comfort to the wretched to have companions in misery)

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike