"Is that Klinger, or who is it that refreshes himself in hurly-burly ?" "It is I who am every thing," replied Goethe, striding and swaggering up and down.

"I was an assistant, in order to be something--lived upon the Alps, tended the goats, lay under the vault of heaven day and night, refreshed by the cool pastures, and burned with the inward fire.

No peace, no rest anywhere.

See, I swell with power and health! I cannot waste myself away.

I would take part in the campaign here; then can my soul expand, and if they do me the service to shoot me down, well and good!" [Footnote: From Klinger's tragedy "Sturm und Drang."] "Bravo! Wild, bravo!" cried the duke.