I don't want my bliss as alms!
Moritz.
But why not?
Melchior.
I don't want anything for which I don't have to fight!
Moritz.
Is it enjoyable then, Melchior?——The maiden's enjoyment is as that of the holy gods. The maiden controls herself, thanks to her self-denial. She keeps herself free from every bitterness until the last moment, in order that she may see the heavens open over her in an instant. The maiden fears hell even at the moment that she perceives a blooming paradise. Her feeling is as pure as a mountain spring. The maiden holds a cup over which no earthly breath has blown as yet; a nectar chalice, the contents of which is spilled when it flames and flares.——The enjoyment that the man finds in that, I think, is insipid and flat.
Melchior.
You can think what you like about it, but keep your thoughts to yourself——I don't like to think about it.
[2]: “Man möchte glauben, die ganze Welt drehe sich um P—— und V——!”