Mephistopheles: Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells In being deprived of everlasting bliss?
Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Above our life we love a steadfast friend.
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
I'm armed with more than complete steel, - The justice of my quarrel.
