Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum?
Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistopheles!
Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.
Accurst be he that first invented war.
Live and die in Aristotle's works.