SECOND PART.
43. XLIII. MANLY PRUDENCE. (continued)
Is not wounded vanity the mother of all tragedies? Where, however, pride
is wounded, there there groweth up something better than pride.
That life may be fair to behold, its game must be well played; for that
purpose, however, it needeth good actors.
Good actors have I found all the vain ones: they play, and wish people to
be fond of beholding them--all their spirit is in this wish.
They represent themselves, they invent themselves; in their neighbourhood I
like to look upon life--it cureth of melancholy.
Therefore am I forbearing to the vain, because they are the physicians of
my melancholy, and keep me attached to man as to a drama.
And further, who conceiveth the full depth of the modesty of the vain man!
I am favourable to him, and sympathetic on account of his modesty.
From you would he learn his belief in himself; he feedeth upon your
glances, he eateth praise out of your hands.
Your lies doth he even believe when you lie favourably about him: for in
its depths sigheth his heart: "What am I?"
And if that be the true virtue which is unconscious of itself--well, the
vain man is unconscious of his modesty!--
This is, however, my third manly prudence: I am not put out of conceit
with the WICKED by your timorousness.
I am happy to see the marvels the warm sun hatcheth: tigers and palms and
rattle-snakes.
Also amongst men there is a beautiful brood of the warm sun, and much that
is marvellous in the wicked.
In truth, as your wisest did not seem to me so very wise, so found I also
human wickedness below the fame of it.
And oft did I ask with a shake of the head: Why still rattle, ye rattle-snakes?
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