the vineyard and said to him, "Tell me, friend, are your vines dead, since no one now knows aught of your grapes?" "No," he answered, "but let me tell you, young vines yield good grapes but poor wine; old vines, on the contrary, bad grapes but good wine. Therefore, stranger," he added, "I still gladden the hearts of my fellow citizens with the abundance of my vineyard, only in another form—as wine, not as grapes."
Julian.
[Thoughtfully.] Yes, yes, yes!
Maximus.
You have not given heed to this. The vine of the world has grown old, and yet you think that you can still offer the raw grapes to those who thirst for the new wine.
Julian.
Alas, my Maximus, who thirsts? Name me a single man, outside our brotherhood, who is moved by a spiritual craving.—Unhappy I, to be born into this iron age!
Maximus.
Do not reproach the age. Had the age been greater, you would have been less. The world-soul is like a rich man with innumerable sons. If he share his riches equally, all are well to do, but none rich. But if he disinherit all but one, and give everything to him, then that one stands as a rich man amid a circle of paupers.
Julian.
No similitude could be less apt than this.—Am I like your single heir? Is not that very thing
