Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts

Scene.—The Place of Palms

The Templar walking and agitatedTEMPLARHere let the weary victim pant awhile.—Yet would I not have time to ascertainWhat passes in me; would not snuff beforehandThe coming storm.  ’Tis sure I fled in vain;But more than fly I could not do, whateverComes of it.  Ah! to ward it off—the blowWas given so suddenly.  Long, much, I stroveTo keep aloof; but vainly.  Once to see her—Her, whom I surely did not court the sight of,To see her, and to form the resolution,Never to lose sight of her here again,Was one—The resolution?—Not ’tis will,Fixt purpose, made (for I was passive in it)Sealed, doomed.  To see her, and to feel myselfBound to her, wove into her very being,Was one—remains one.  Separate from herTo live is quite unthinkable—is death.And wheresoever after death we be,There too the thought were death.  And is this love?Yet so in troth the templar loves—so—so—The Christian loves the Jewess.  What of that?Here in this holy land, and therefore holyAnd dear to me, I have already doffedSome prejudices.—Well—what says my vow?As templar I am dead, was dead to thatFrom the same hour which made me prisonerTo Saladin.  But is the head he gave meMy old one?  No.  It knows no word of whatWas prated into yon, of what had bound it.It is a better; for its patrial skyFitter than yon.  I feel—I’m conscious of it,With this I now begin to think, as hereMy father must have thought; if tales of himHave not been told untruly.  Tales—why tales?They’re credible—more credible than ever—Now that I’m on the brink of stumbling, whereHe fell.  He fell?  I’d rather fall with men,Than stand with children.  His example pledgesHis approbation, and whose approbationHave I else need of?  Nathan’s?  Surely of hisEncouragement, applause, I’ve little needTo doubt—O what a Jew is he! yet easyTo pass for the mere Jew.  He’s coming—swiftly—And looks delighted—who leaves SaladinWith other looks?  Hoa, Nathan!Nathan and TemplarNATHAN      Are you there?TEMPLARYour visit to the sultan has been long.NATHANNot very long; my going was indeedToo much delayed.  Troth, Conrade, this man’s fameOutstrips him not.  His fame is but his shadow.But before all I have to tell you—TEMPLAR      What?NATHANThat he would speak with you, and that directly.First to my house, where I would give some orders,Then we’ll together to the sultan.TEMPLAR   Nathan,I enter not thy doors again before—NATHANThen you’ve been there this while—have spoken with her.How do you like my Recha?TEMPLAR   Words cannot tell—Gaze on her once again—I never will—Never—no never: unless thou wilt promiseThat I for ever, ever, may behold her.NATHANHow should I take this?TEMPLAR (falling suddenly upon his neck)Nathan—O my father!NATHANYoung man!TEMPLAR (quitting him as suddenly)   Not son?—I pray thee, Nathan—ha!NATHANThou dear young man!TEMPLAR      Not son?—I pray thee, Nathan,Conjure thee by the strongest bonds of nature,Prefer not those of later date, the weaker.—Be it enough to thee to be a man!Push me not from thee!NATHAN      Dearest, dearest friend!—TEMPLARNot son?  Not son?  Not even—even ifThy daughter’s gratitude had in her bosomPrepared the way for love—not even ifBoth wait thy nod alone to be but one?—You do not speak?NATHAN   Young knight, you have surprised me.TEMPLARDo I surprise thee—thus surprise thee, Nathan,With thy own thought?  Canst thou not in my mouthKnow it again?  Do I surprise you?NATHAN      EreI know, which of the Stauffens was your father?TEMPLARWhat say you, Nathan?—And in such a momentIs curiosity your only feeling?NATHANFor see, once I myself well knew a Stauffen,Whose name was Conrade.TEMPLAR      Well, and if my fatherWas bearer of that name?NATHAN   Indeed?TEMPLAR      My nameIs from my father’s, Conrade.NATHAN      Then thy fatherWas not my Conrade.  He was, like thyself,A templar, never wedded.TEMPLAR   For all that—NATHANHow?TEMPLAR   For all that he may have been my father.NATHANYou joke.TEMPLAR   And you are captious.  Boots it thenTo be true-born?  Does bastard wound thine ear?The race is not to be despised: but hold,Spare me my pedigree; I’ll spare thee thine.Not that I doubt thy genealogic tree.O, God forbid!  You may attest it allAs far as Abraham back; and backwarderI know it to my heart—I’ll swear to it also.NATHANKnight, you grow bitter.  Do I merit this?Have I refused you ought?  I’ve but forborneTo close with you at the first word—no more.TEMPLARIndeed—no more?  O then forgive—NATHAN      ’Tis well.Do but come with me.TEMPLAR   Whither?  To thy house?No? there not—there not: ’tis a burning soil.Here I await thee, go.  Am I againTo see her, I shall see her times enough:If not I have already gazed too much.NATHANI’ll try to be soon back.[Goes.TEMPLAR   Too much indeed—Strange that the human brain, so infiniteOf comprehension, yet at times will fillQuite full, and all at once, of a mere trifle—No matter what it teems with.  Patience!  Patience!The soul soon calms again, th’ upboiling stuffMakes itself room and brings back light and order.Is this then the first time I love?  Or wasWhat by that name I knew before, not love—And this, this love alone that now I feel?Daya and TemplarDAYASir knight, sir knight.TEMPLAR   Who calls? ha, Daya, you?DAYAI managed to slip by him.  No, come here(He’ll see us where you stand) behind this tree.TEMPLARWhy so mysterious?  What’s the matter, Daya?DAYAYes, ’tis a secret that has brought me to youA twofold secret.  One I only know,The other only you.  Let’s interchange,Intrust yours first to me, then I’ll tell mine.TEMPLARWith pleasure when I’m able to discoverWhat you call me.  But that yours will explain.Begin—DAYAThat is not fair, yours first, sir knight;For be assured my secret serves you notUnless I have yours first.  If I sift it outYou’ll not have trusted me, and then my secretIs still my own, and yours lost all for nothing.But, knight, how can you men so fondly fancyYou ever hide such secrets from us women.TEMPLARSecrets we often are unconscious of.DAYAMay be—So then I must at last be friendly,And break it to you.  Tell me now, whence came itThat all at once you started up abruptlyAnd in the twinkling of an eye were fled?That you left us without one civil speech!That you return no more with Nathan to us—Has Recha then made such a slight impression,Or made so deep a one?  I penetrate you.Think you that on a limed twig the poor birdCan flutter cheerfully, or hop at easeWith its wing pinioned?  Come, come, in one wordAcknowledge to me plainly that you love her,Love her to madness, and I’ll tell you what.TEMPLARTo madness, oh, you’re very penetrating.DAYAGrant me the love, and I’ll give up the madness.TEMPLARBecause that must be understood of course—A templar love a Jewess—DAYA      Seems absurd,But often there’s more fitness in a thingThan we at once discern; nor were this timeThe first, when through an unexpected pathThe Saviour drew his children on to himAcross the tangled maze of human life.TEMPLARSo solemn that—(and yet if in the steadOf Saviour, I were to say Providence,It would sound true) you make me curious, Daya,Which I’m unwont to be.DAYA      This is the placeFor miraclesTEMPLAR   For wonders—well and good—Can it be otherwise, where the whole worldPresses as toward a centre.  My dear Daya,Consider what you asked of me as owned;That I do love her—that I can’t imagineHow I should live without her—thatDAYA   Indeed!Then, knight, swear to me you will call her yours,Make both her present and eternal welfare.TEMPLARAnd how, how can I, can I swear to doWhat is not in my power?DAYA      ’Tis in your power,A single word will put it in your power.TEMPLARSo that her father shall not be against it.DAYAHer father—father? he shall be compelled.TEMPLARAs yet he is not fallen among thieves—Compelled?DAYA   Aye to be willing that you should.TEMPLARCompelled and willing—what if I inform theeThat I have tried to touch this string already,It vibrates not responsive.DAYA      He refused thee?TEMPLARHe answered in a tone of such discordanceThat I was hurt.DAYA   What do you say?  How, youBetrayed the shadow of a wish for Recha,And he did not spring up for joy, drew back,Drew coldly back, made difficulties?TEMPLAR      Almost.DAYAWell then I’ll not deliberate a moment.TEMPLARAnd yet you are deliberating still.DAYAThat man was always else so good, so kind,I am so deeply in his debt.  Why, whyWould he not listen to you?  God’s my witnessThat my heart bleeds to come about him thus.TEMPLARI pray you, Daya, once for all, to endThis dire uncertainty.  But if you doubtWhether what ’tis your purpose to revealBe right or wrong, be praiseworthy or shameful,Speak not—I will forget that you have hadSomething to hide.DAYA   That spurs me on still more.Then learn that Recha is no Jewess, thatShe is a Christian.TEMPLAR   I congratulate you,’Twas a hard labour, but ’tis out at last;The pangs of the delivery won’t hurt you.Go on with undiminished zeal, and peopleHeaven, when no longer fit to people earth.DAYAHow, knight, does my intelligence deserveSuch bitter scorn?  That Recha is a ChristianOn you a Christian templar, and her lover,Confers no joy.TEMPLAR   Particularly asShe is a Christian of your making, Daya.DAYAO, so you understand it—well and good—I wish to find out him that might convert her.It is her fate long since to have been thatWhich she is spoiled for being.TEMPLAR      Do explain—Or go.DAYA   She is a Christian child—of ChristianParents was born and is baptised.TEMPLAR (hastily)      And Nathan—DAYAIs not her father.TEMPLAR   Nathan not her father—And are you sure of what you say?DAYA      I am,It is a truth has cost me tears of blood.No, he is not her father.TEMPLAR   And has onlyBrought her up as his daughter, educatedThe Christian child a Jewess.DAYA      Certainly.TEMPLARAnd she is unacquainted with her birth?Has never learnt from him that she was bornA Christian, and no Jewess?DAYA   Never yet.TEMPLARAnd he not only let the child grow upIn this mistaken notion, but still leavesThe woman in it.DAYA   Aye, alas!TEMPLAR      How, Nathan,The wise good Nathan thus allow himselfTo stifle nature’s voice?  Thus to misguideUpon himself th’ effusions of a heartWhich to itself abandoned would have formedAnother bias, Daya—yes, indeedYou have intrusted an important secretThat may have consequences—it confounds me,I cannot tell what I’ve to do at present,Therefore go, give me time, he may come byAnd may surprise us.DAYA   I should drop for fright.TEMPLARI am not able now to talk, farewell;And if you chance to meet him, only sayThat we shall find each other at the sultan’s.DAYALet him not see you’ve any grudge against him.That should be kept to give the proper impulseTo things at last, and may remove your scruplesRespecting Recha.  But then, if you take herBack with you into Europe, let not meBe left behind.TEMPLAR   That we’ll soon settle, go.

ACT IV

Scene.—The Cloister of a Convent

The Friar aloneFRIARAye—aye—he’s very right—the patriarch is—In fact of all that he has sent me afterNot much turns out his way—Why put on meSuch business and no other?  I don’t careTo coax and wheedle, and to run my noseInto all sorts of things, and have a handIn all that’s going forward.  I did notRenounce the world, for my own part, in orderTo be entangled with ’t for other people.FRIAR and TEMPLARTEMPLAR (abruptly entering)Good brother, are you there?  I’ve sought you long.FRIARMe, sir?TEMPLAR   What, don’t you recollect me?FRIAR      Oh,I thought I never in my life was likelyTo see you any more.  For so I hopedIn God.  I did not vastly relish the proposalThat I was bound to make you.  Yes, God knows,How little I desired to find a hearing,Knows I was inly glad when you refusedWithout a moment’s thought, what of a knightWould be unworthy.  Are your second thoughts—TEMPLARSo, you already know my purpose, IScarce know myself.FRIAR   Have you by this reflectedThat our good patriarch is not so much out,That gold and fame in plenty may be gotBy his commission, that a foe’s a foeWere he our guardian angel seven times over.Have you weighed this ’gainst flesh and blood, and comeTo strike the bargain he proposed.  Ah, God.TEMPLARMy dear good man, set your poor heart at ease.Not therefore am I come, not therefore wishTo see the patriarch in person.  StillOn the first point I think as I then thought,Nor would I for aught in the world exchangeThat good opinion, which I once obtainedFrom such a worthy upright man as thou art,I come to ask your patriarch’s advice—FRIAR (looking round with timidity)Our patriarch’s—you? a knight ask priest’s advice?TEMPLARMine is a priestly business.FRIAR      Yet the priestsAsk not the knights’ advice, be their affairEver so knightly.TEMPLAR   Therefore one allows themTo overshoot themselves, a privilegeWhich such as I don’t vastly envy them.Indeed if I were acting for myself,Had not t’ account with others, I should careBut little for his counsel.  But some thingsI’d rather do amiss by others’ guidanceThan by my own aright.  And then by this timeI see religion too is party, andHe, who believes himself the most impartial,Does but uphold the standard of his own,Howe’er unconsciously.  And since ’tis so,So must be well.FRIAR   I rather shall not answer,For I don’t understand exactly.TEMPLAR      YetLet me consider what it is preciselyThat I have need of, counsel or decision,Simple or learned counsel.—Thank you, brother,I thank you for your hint—A patriarch—why?Be thou my patriarch; for ’tis the plain Christian,Whom in the patriarch I have to consult,And not the patriarch in the Christian.FRIAR      Oh,I beg no further—you must quite mistake me;He that knows much hath learnt much care, and IDevoted me to only one.  ’Tis well,Most luckily here comes the very man,Wait here, stand still—he has perceived you, knight.TEMPLARI’d rather shun him, he is not my man.A thick red smiling prelate—and as stately—FRIARBut you should see him on a gala-day;He only comes from visiting the sick.TEMPLARGreat Saladin must then be put to shame.[The Patriarch, after marching up one of the aisles in great pomp, draws near, and makes signs to the Friar, who approaches him.Patriarch, Friar, and TemplarPATRIARCHHither—was that the templar?  What wants he?FRIARI know not.PATRIARCH (approaches the templar, while the friar and the rest of his train draw back)   So, sir knight, I’m truly happyTo meet the brave young man—so very young too—Something, God helping, may come of him.TEMPLAR      MoreThan is already hardly will come of him,But less, my reverend father, that may chance.PATRIARCHIt is my prayer at least a knight so piousMay for the cause of Christendom and GodLong be preserved; nor can that fail, so beYoung valour will lend ear to aged counsel.With what can I be useful any way?TEMPLARWith that which my youth is without, with counsel.PATRIARCHMost willingly, but counsel should be followed.TEMPLARSurely not blindly?PATRIARCH   Who says that?  IndeedNone should omit to make use of the reasonGiven him by God, in things where it belongs,But it belongs not everywhere; for instance,If God, by some one of his blessed angels,Or other holy minister of his word,Deign’d to make known a mean, by which the welfareOf Christendom, or of his holy church,In some peculiar and especial mannerMight be promoted or secured, who thenShall venture to rise up, and try by reasonThe will of him who has created reason,Measure th’ eternal laws of heaven byThe little rules of a vain human honour?—But of all this enough.  What is it thenOn which our counsel is desired?TEMPLAR   Suppose,My reverend father, that a Jew possessedAn only child, a girl we’ll say, whom heWith fond attention forms to every virtue,And loves more than his very soul; a childWho by her pious love requites his goodness.And now suppose it whispered—say to me—This girl is not the daughter of the Jew,He picked up, purchased, stole her in her childhood—That she was born of Christians and baptised,But that the Jew hath reared her as a Jewess,Allows her to remain a Jewess, andTo think herself his daughter.  Reverend fatherWhat then ought to be done?PATRIARCH      I shudder!  ButFirst will you please explain if such a caseBe fact, or only an hypothesis?That is to say, if you, of your own head,Invent the case, or if indeed it happened,And still continues happening?TEMPLAR      I had thoughtThat just to learn your reverence’s opinionThis were all one.PATRIARCH   All one—now see how aptProud human reason is in spiritual thingsTo err: ’tis not all one; for, if the pointIn question be a mere sport of the wit,’Twill not be worth our while to think it throughBut I should recommend the curious personTo theatres, where oft, with loud applause,Such pro and contras have been agitated.But if the object should be something moreThan by a school-trick—by a sleight of logicTo get the better of me—if the caseBe really extant, if it should have happenedWithin our diocese, or—or perhapsHere in our dear Jerusalem itself,Why then—TEMPLAR   What then?PATRIARCH      Then were it properTo execute at once upon the JewThe penal laws in such a case providedBy papal and imperial right, againstSo foul a crime—such dire abomination.TEMPLARSo.PATRIARCH   And the laws forementioned have decreed,That if a Jew shall to apostacySeduce a Christian, he shall die by fire.TEMPLARSo.PATRIARCH   How much more the Jew, who forciblyTears from the holy font a Christian child,And breaks the sacramental bond of baptism;For all what’s done to children is by force—I mean except what the church does to children.TEMPLARWhat if the child, but for this fostering Jew,Must have expired in misery?PATRIARCH      That’s nothing,The Jew has still deserved the faggot—for’Twere better it here died in miseryThan for eternal woe to live.  Besides,Why should the Jew forestall the hand of God?God, if he wills to save, can save without him.TEMPLARAnd spite of him too save eternally.PATRIARCHThat’s nothing!  Still the Jew is to be burnt.TEMPLARThat hurts me—more particularly as’Tis said he has not so much taught the maidHis faith, as brought her up with the mere knowledgeOf what our reason teaches about God.PATRIARCHThat’s nothing!  Still the Jew is to be burnt—And for this very reason would deserveTo be thrice burnt.  How, let a child grow upWithout a faith?  Not even teach a childThe greatest of its duties, to believe?’Tis heinous!  I am quite astonished, knight,That you yourself—TEMPLAR   The rest, right reverend sir,In the confessional, but not before.[Offers to go.PATRIARCHWhat off—not stay for my interrogation—Not name to me this infidel, this Jew—Not find him up for me at once?  But hold,A thought occurs, I’ll straightway to the sultanConformably to the capitulation,Which Saladin has sworn, he must support usIn all the privileges, all the doctrinesWhich appertain to our most holy faith,Thank God, we’ve the original in keeping,We have his hand and seal to it—we—And I shall lead him easily to thinkHow very dangerous for the state it isNot to believe.  All civic bonds divide,Like flax fire-touched, where subjects don’t believe.Away with foul impiety!TEMPLAR      It happensSomewhat unlucky that I want the leisureTo enjoy this holy sermon.  I am sent forTo Saladin.PATRIARCH   Why then—indeed—if so—TEMPLARAnd will prepare the sultan, if agreeable.For your right reverend visit.PATRIARCH      I have heardThat you found favour in the sultan’s sight,I beg with all humility to beRemembered to him.  I am purely motivedBy zeal in th’ cause of God.  What of too muchI do, I do for him—weigh that in goodness.’Twas then, most noble sir—what you were startingAbout the Jew—a problem merely!TEMPLAR      Problem![Goes.PATRIARCHOf whose foundation I’ll have nearer knowledge.Another job for brother Bonafides.Hither, my son![Converses with the Friar as he walks off.

Scene.—A Room in the Palace

Slaves bring in a number of purses and pile them on the floor.  Saladin is present.

SALADINIn troth this has no end.  And is there muchOf this same thing behind?SLAVE   About one half.SALADINThen take the rest to Sittah.  Where’s Al-Hafi?What’s here Al-Hafi shall take charge of straight.Or shan’t I rather send it to my father;Here it slips through one’s fingers.  Sure in timeOne may grow callous; it shall now cost labourTo come at much from me—at least untilThe treasures come from Ægypt, povertyMust shift as ’t can—yet at the sepulchreThe charges must go on—the Christian pilgrimsShall not go back without an alms.Saladin and SittahSITTAH (entering)      Why this?Wherefore the gold to me?SALADIN   Pay thyself with it,And if there’s something left ’twill be in store.Are Nathan and the templar not yet come?SITTAHHe has been seeking for him everywhere—Look what I met with when the plate and jewelsWere passing through my hands—[Showing a small portrait.SALADIN   Ha!  What, my brother?’Tis he, ’tis he, was he, was he alas!Thou dear brave youth, and lost to me so early;What would I not with thee and at thy sideHave undertaken?  Let me have the portrait,I recollect it now again; he gave itUnto thy elder sister, to his Lilah,That morning that she would not part with him,But clasped him so in tears.  It was the lastMorning that he rode out; and I—I let himRide unattended.  Lilah died for grief,And never could forgive me that I let himThen ride alone.  He came not back.SITTAH      Poor brother—SALADINTime shall be when none of us will come back,And then who knows?  It is not death aloneThat balks the hopes of young men of his cast,Such have far other foes, and oftentimesThe strongest like the weakest is o’ercome.Be as it may—I must compare this pictureWith our young templar, to observe how muchMy fancy cheated me.SITTAH   I therefore brought it;But give it me, I’ll tell thee if ’tis like.We women see that best.SALADIN (to a slave at the door)      Ah, who is there?The templar? let him come.SITTAH (throws herself on a sofa apart and drops her veil)      Not to interfere,Or with my curiosity disturb you.SALADINThat’s right.  And then his voice, will that be like?The tone of Assad’s voice, sleeps somewhere yet—So—Templar and SaladinTEMPLAR   I thy prisoner, sultan,SALADIN      Thou my prisoner—And shall I not to him whose life I gaveAlso give freedom?TEMPLAR   What ’twere worthy thineTo do, it is my part to hear of thee,And not to take for granted.  But, O Sultan,To lay loud protestations at thy feetOf gratitude for a life spared, agreesNot with my station or my character.At all times, ’tis once more, prince, at thy service.SALADINOnly forbear to use it against me.Not that I grudge my enemy one pair moreOf hands—but such a heart, it goes against meTo yield him.  I have been deceived with thee,Thou brave young man, in nothing.  Yes, thou artIn soul and body Assad.  I could ask thee,Where then hast thou been lurking all this time?Or in what cavern slept?  What GinnistanChose some kind Perie for thy hiding-place,That she might ever keep the flower thus fresh?Methinks I could remind thee here and yonderOf what we did together—could abuse theeFor having had one secret, e’en to me—Cheat me of one adventure—yes, I could,If I saw thee alone, and not myself.Thanks that so much of this fond sweet illusionAt least is true, that in my sear of lifeAn Assad blossoms for me.  Thou art willing?TEMPLARAll that from thee comes to me, whatsoeverIt chance to prove, lies as a wish alreadyWithin my soul.SALADIN   We’ll try the experiment.Wilt thou stay with me? dwell about me? boots notAs Mussulman or Christian, in a turbanOr a white mantle—I have never wishedTo see the same bark grow about all trees.TEMPLARElse, Saladin, thou hardly hadst becomeThe hero that thou art, alike to allThe gardener of the Lord.SALADIN   If thou think notThe worse of me for this, we’re half right.TEMPLAR      Quite so.One word.SALADIN (holds out his hand)TEMPLAR (takes it)   One man—and with this receive moreThan thou canst take away again—thine wholly.SALADIN’Tis for one day too great a gain—too great.Came he not with thee?TEMPLAR   Who?SALADIN      Who?  Nathan.TEMPLAR (coldly)      No,I came alone.SALADIN   O, what a deed of thine!And what a happiness, a blessing to thee,That such a deed was serving such a man.TEMPLARYes, yes.SALADIN   So cold—no, my young friend—when GodDoes through our means a service, we ought notTo be so cold, not out of modestyWish to appear so cold.TEMPLAR   In this same worldAll things have many sides, and ’tis not easyTo comprehend how they can fit each other.SALADINCling ever to the best—Give praise to God,Who knows how they can fit.  But, my young man,If thou wilt be so difficult, I mustBe very cautious with thee, for I tooHave many sides, and some of them perhapsSuch as mayn’t always seem to fit.TEMPLAR      That wounds me;Suspicion usually is not my failing.SALADINSay then of whom thou harbour’st it, of Nathan?So should thy talk imply—canst thou suspect him?Give me the first proof of thy confidence.TEMPLARI’ve nothing against Nathan, I am angryWith myself only.SALADIN   And for what?TEMPLAR      For dreamingThat any Jew could learn to be no Jew—For dreaming it awake.SALADIN   Out with this dream.TEMPLARThou know’st of Nathan’s daughter, sultan.  WhatI did for her I did—because I did it;Too proud to reap thanks which I had not sown for,I shunned from day to day her very sight.The father was far off.  He comes, he hears,He seeks me, thanks me, wishes that his daughterMay please me; talks to me of dawning prospects—I listen to his prate, go, see, and findA girl indeed.  O, sultan, I am ashamed—SALADINA shamed that a Jew girl knew how to makeImpression on thee, surely not.TEMPLAR      But thatTo this impression my rash yielding heart,Trusting the smoothness of the father’s prate,Opposed no more resistance.  Fool—I sprangA second time into the flame, and thenI wooed, and was denied.SALADIN   Denied!  Denied!TEMPLARThe prudent father does not flatly sayNo to my wishes, but the prudent fatherMust first inquire, and look about, and think.Oh, by all means.  Did not I do the same?Did not I look about and ask who ’twasWhile she was shrieking in the flame?  Indeed,By God, ’tis something beautifully wiseTo be so circumspect.SALADIN   Come, come, forgiveSomething to age.  His lingerings cannot last.He is not going to require of theeFirst to turn Jew.TEMPLAR   Who knows?SALADIN      Who?  I, who knowThis Nathan better.TEMPLAR   Yet the superstitionIn which we have grown up, not therefore losesWhen we detect it, all its influence on us.Not all are free that can bemock their fetters.SALADINMaturely said—but Nathan, surely Nathan—TEMPLARThe worst of superstitions is to thinkOne’s own most bearable.SALADIN   May be, but Nathan—TEMPLARMust Nathan be the mortal, who unshrinkingCan face the moon-tide ray of truth, nor thereBetray the twilight dungeon which he crawled from.SALADINYes, Nathan is that man.TEMPLAR   I thought so too,But what if this picked man, this chosen sage,Were such a thorough Jew that he seeks outFor Christian children to bring up as Jews—How then?SALADIN   Who says this of him?TEMPLAR      E’en the maidWith whom he frets me—with the hope of whomHe seemed to joy in paying me the service,Which he would not allow me to do gratis—This very maid is not his daughter—no,She is a kidnapped Christian child.SALADIN      Whom heHas, notwithstanding, to thy wish refused?TEMPLAR (with vehemence)Refused or not, I know him now.  There liesThe prating tolerationist unmasked—And I’ll halloo upon this Jewish wolf,For all his philosophical sheep’s clothing,Dogs that shall touze his hide.SALADIN (earnestly)      Peace, Christian!TEMPLAR         What!Peace, Christian—and may Jew and MussulmanStickle for being Jew and Mussulman,And must the Christian only drop the Christian?SALADIN (more solemnly)Peace, Christian!TEMPLAR (calmly.)   Yes, I feel what weight of blameLies in that word of thine pent up.  O thatI knew how Assad in my place would act.SALADINHe—not much better, probably as fiery.Who has already taught thee thus at onceLike him to bribe me with a single word?Indeed, if all has past as thou narratest,I scarcely can discover Nathan in it.But Nathan is my friend, and of my friendsOne must not bicker with the other.  Bend—And be directed.  Move with caution.  Do notLoose on him the fanatics of thy sect.Conceal what all thy clergy would be claimingMy hand to avenge upon him, with more showOf right than is my wish.  Be not from spiteTo any Jew or Mussulman a Christian.TEMPLARThy counsel is but on the brink of comingSomewhat too late, thanks to the patriarch’sBloodthirsty rage, whose instrument I shudderTo have almost become.SALADIN   How! how! thou wentestStill earlier to the patriarch than to me?TEMPLARYes, in the storm of passion, in the eddyOf indecision—pardon—oh! thou wiltNo longer care, I fear, to find in meOne feature of thy Assad.SALADIN   Yes, that fear.Methinks I know by this time from what failingsOur virtue springs—this do thou cultivate,Those shall but little harm thee in my sight.But go, seek Nathan, as he sought for thee,And bring him hither: I must reconcile you.If thou art serious about the maid—Be calm, she shall be thine—Nathan shall feelThat without swine’s flesh one may educateA Christian child, Go.[Templar withdraws.SITTAH (rising from the sofa)   Very strange indeed!SALADINWell, Sittah, must my Assad not have beenA gallant handsome youth?SITTAH      If he was thus,And ’twasn’t the templar who sat to the painter.But how couldst thou be so forgetful, brother,As not to ask about his parents?SALADIN      AndParticularly too about his mother.Whether his mother e’er was in this country,That is your meaning, isn’t it?SITTAH      You run on—SALADINOh, nothing is more possible, for Assad’Mong handsome Christian ladies was so welcome,To handsome Christian ladies so attached,That once a report spread—but ’tis not pleasantTo bring that up.  Let us be satisfiedThat we have got him once again—have got himWith all the faults and freaks, the starts and wildnessOf his warm gentle heart—Oh, Nathan mustGive him the maid—Dost think so?SITTAH      Give—give up!SALADINAye, for what right has Nathan with the girlIf he be not her father?  He who savedHer life so lately has a stronger claimTo heir their rights who gave it her at first.SITTAHWhat therefore, Saladin, if you withdrawThe maid at once from the unrightful owner?SALADINThere is no need of that.SITTAH   Need, not precisely;But female curiosity inspiresMe with that counsel.  There are certain menOf whom one is irresistibly impatientTo know what women they can be in love with.SALADINWell then you may send for her.SITTAH      May I, brother?SALADINBut hurt not Nathan, he must not imagineThat we propose by violence to part them.SITTAHBe without apprehension.SALADIN   Fare you well,I must make out where this Al-Hafi is.