OF THE RABBLE
" Life is a well of lust ; but wherever the rabble drink also, all wells are poisoned.
I am fond of all things cleanly ; I like not to see the grinning mouths and the thirst of the unclean.
They have cast their eye down into the well ; now their repugnant smile shineth up out of the well.
The holy water hath been poisoned by their con- cupiscence ; and when calling their foul dreams lust they have poisoned words as well.
Angry waxeth the flame when they lay their damp hearts nigh the fire ; the spirit itself bubbleth and smoketh wherever the rabble approach the fire.
Sweetish and much too mellow waxeth the fruit in their hand ; shaky and withered at the top waxeth the fruit-tree from their look.
And many a one who turned away from life only turned away from the rabble ; he cared not to share with them well and fire and fruit.
And many a one who went into the desert and suffered from thirst v/ith the camels, merely cared not to sit round the cistern with dirty camel-drivers.
And many a one who came along like a destroyer and a hail-storm unto all corn-fields, merely intended
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