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I have, alas, studied philosophy,
Jurisprudence and medicine, too, And, worst of all, theology With keen endeavor, through and through- And here I am, for all my lore The wretched fool I was before. Called Master of Arts, and Doctor to boot, For ten years almost I confute and up and down, wherever it goes, I drag my students by the nose- And see that for all our science and art We can know nothing. It burns my heart. Of course, I am smarter than all the shysters, The doctors, and teachers, and scribes, and Christers; No scruple nor doubt could make me ill, I am not afraid of the Devil or hell- But therefore I also lack all delight, Do not fancy that I know anything right, Do not fancy that I could teach or assert What would better mankind or what might convert. I also have neither money nor treasures, Nor worldly honors or earthly pleasures; No dog would endure such a curst existence! Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance, That many a secret perchance I reach Through spirit-power and spirit-speech, An thus the biter task forego Of saying the things I do not know, - That I may detect the inmost force Which binds the world, and guides its course, Its germs, productive powers explore, And rummage in empty words no more! If to the moment I shall ever say:
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