We can do everything. Give me your hand! We can pity the young, who take their timidity for idealism, and the old, who break their hearts from stoical deliberation. We see the Kaiser tremble at a scurrilous ballad and the lazzaroni before the youngest policeman. We ignore the masks of comedians and see the poet in the shadow of the mask. We see happiness in beggars' rags and the capitalist in misery and toil. We observe lovers and see them blush before each other, foreseeing that they are deceived deceivers. We see parents bringing children into the world that they may be able to say to them: “How happy you are to have such parents!”----and see the children go and do likewise. We can observe the innocent girl in the qualms of her first love, and the five-groschen harlot reading Schiller.----We see God and the devil blaming each other, and cherish the unspeakable belief that both of them are drunk----Peace and joy, Melchior! You only need to reach me your little finger. You may become snow-white before you have such a favorable opportunity again! MELCHIOR. If I gave you my hand, Moritz, it would be from self-contempt.----I see myself outlawed. What lent me courage lies in the grave. I can no longer consider noble emotions as worthy.----And see nothing, nothing, that can save me now from my degradation.----To myself I am the most contemptible creature in the universe. MORITZ. What delays you?---- (_A masked man appears._) THE MASKED MAN. (_To Melchior._) You are trembling from hunger. You are not fit to judge. (_To Moritz._) You go! MELCHIOR. Who are you? THE MASKED MAN. I refuse to tell. (_To Moritz._) Vanish!----What business have you here!----Why haven't you on your head? MORITZ. I shot myself. THE MASKED MAN. Then stay where you belong. You are done with! Don't annoy us here with your stink of the grave. It's inconceivable!----Look at your fingers! Pfu, the devil! They will crumble soon. MORITZ. Please don't send me away---- MELCHIOR. Who are you, sir?? MORITZ. Please don't send me away. Please don't. Let me stay here a bit with you; I won't disturb you in anything----It is so dreadful down there. THE MASKED MAN. Why do you gabble about sublimity, then?----You know that that is humbug----sour grapes! Why do you lie so diligently, you chimera? If you consider it so great a favor, you may stay, as far as I am concerned. But take yourself to leeward, my dear friend----and please keep your dead man's hand out of the game! MELCHIOR. Will you tell me once for all who you are, or not? THE MASKED MAN. No----I propose to you that you shall confide yourself to me. I will take care of your future success. MELCHIOR. You are----my father? THE MASKED MAN. Wouldn't you know your father by his voice? MELCHIOR. No. THE MASKED MAN.