There was a king reigned in the east, there when kings would sit to feast. They get their fill before they think, with poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth from the many venomed earth. First a little, thence to more, he gathered all her killing store. And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, safe the king when the health went round. They put arsenic in his meat and stared a gas to watch him eat. They put stric-knife in his cup and shook to see him drink it up. They shook, they stared as whites their shirt. Them it was their poison hurt. I tell this tale as I heard told. Mithradate is... he died old. Now this is a poem, or part of a poem by A.E. Houseman, the Schroffshire lad. And this is generally referred to as just the Mithradate as part of the poem. It's the story of Mithradate's Yupator, one of Rome's greatest enemies. The Romans defeated him crushingly twice. And he was on the point of raising another army, a third army, to attack Rome after having been crushingly defeated. And he planned actually to conquer the Roman Empire at Rome's height of power. It's a period that takes place in Roman history just before Julius Caesar. Now the thing that's interesting about this poem is the fact that Mithradate's Mith defeat after defeat after defeat, but his spirit was uncrushable. He eventually killed himself, but one can almost imagine he was in his castle as the Roman army closed in and he was just talking to his friends and saying, My God, we gave them a hell of a scare, didn't we? But they're not taking the alive. That would have been in keeping with the Mithradate's that has come down to us through history. This poem that I read is a story that is recounted, I believe, through Plutarch, who said that Mithradate's was the king in a court in a country that was particularly prone to conspiracies and attempts to overthrow and kill the king. And that is, of course, how he managed to become king himself. And his sister, wife, they married their sisters in the kingdom of Pontus, which is Mithradate, his is kingdom, attempted to poison him. She handed him a cup full of wine, said, drink from my cup brother. He took the cup. Sure, drank it. Wait a minute, had another drink, sloshed it around in his mouth and he said, ah, strict nine, arsenic. Okay. Now you have some. And of course, his sister, wife, drank it and was killed by the poison. He had actually, as the poem says, gathered all that springs to earth from the many venomed earth, all the poisons that he could find and he fed himself small amounts of them over a long period of time. And he managed to make himself immune to poison. I don't know if that's actually possible, but that's what the ancients believe he had done. And houseman says that Mithradate's, the king of Pontus, Mithradate's Yuvator, was something of a victorious character because he just kept hammering away at life. And yes, he did eventually commit suicide, but he did it in a way that is almost triumphant. I'm generally opposed to suicide as a way out, but sometimes I suppose if you're faced with being paraded through Rome and then ceremonially strangled in the form like we saw in the TV series, Rome, it might be a good idea to fall on your swords with his suicide was something of a triumph. He was saying they're not going to march me and their damn parade, and that was the end of Mithradate's. It's an interesting comment on the way that one deals with life's trials and tribulations. Of course, Mithradate's accepted the fact that the Romans were going to try and kill him. Of course, he accepted the fact that everyone around him in his life was going to kill him, but he took precautions. He gathered all that springs to birth rather from the many Venom dearth. That strikes me as the best way to deal with the fact that they're suffering in this world. You accept it and you move on, you deal with what you can. Some people might think that that's not really a victory, but it's really a matter of opinion whether or not Mithradate's won. He died old though. That's the point of the last line of the poem. But to be perfectly honest, I'm not really here to talk about Mithradate's. I'm here to talk about how charisma can be abused. A lot of people rightfully have asked me, I've been pointing out my habit of smiling at everybody and my generally jovial disposition in something as serious as anti-natalism, depression, and suicide. It's been said that the devil wears Prada and that I'm to be deeply distrusted because of the way that I approach this subject and my delivery. Strangely enough, I agree with everyone who takes that point of view. Beware my charisma. Don't get fooled by me using poetic language or spouting off poetry. Remember, stick to the truth of the matter. Now, the thing is what interests me is people who say that I'm to be distrusted because of my attempts at being charismatic are also saying that I'm not charismatic at all. Fine, I don't have a problem with that. I'm rather glad that people see right through me. There are other people in this debate. They're kind of invisible at the moment. But they have a hundred times the charisma that I do. Beware of charisma. Beware of the abuse of charisma. Thank you.