  Scene I.--A room in Nathan's house.Recha, Daja. RECHA.Well, Daja, did my father really say "That I might instantly expect him here?" That surely meant that he would come at once, And yet how many minutes have rolled by! But I'll not dwell upon the moments gone, I'll only live in those that are to come, That one which brings him here must come in time. DAJA.But for the Sultan's ill-timed messenger Nathan had brought him hither. RECHA.When he comes-- Oh! when this dearest of my inmost hopes Shall be fulfilled--what then--what then? DAJA.What then? Why then I trust the wish most dear to me Will also be fulfilled. RECHA.And in its place What wish shall take possession of my breast? Which now forgets to heave, unless it pant With some fond wish? Will nothing come? I shudder! DAJA.My wish shall then supplant the one fulfilled, My wish to see you borne to Europe's shores By hands well worthy of you. RECHA.You do err. The very thought which makes you form this wish Forbids it to be mine. Your native land Attracts you, and has mine no charm for me? Shall a remembrance of your cherished home, Your absent kindred and your dearest friends, Which years and distance have not yet effaced, Rule in your soul with softer, mightier sway Than what I know, and hear, and feel of mine. DAJA.'Tis vain to struggle, for the ways of Heaven Are still the ways of Heaven. And who can say If he who saved your life may not be doomed, Through his God's arm, for whom he nobly fights. To lead you to that people--to that land To which you should belong by right of birth? RECHA.What are you saying, Daja? dearest Daja! Indeed you have some strange and curious thoughts. "His God!" whose God? To whom can God belong, And how can God belong to any man, Or need a human arm to fight his battles? And who, among the scattered clods of earth Can say for which of them himself was born, Unless for that on which he was produced? If Nathan heard thee! How has Nathan sinned, That Daja seeks to paint my happiness So far removed from his? What has he done, That thus amongst the seeds of reason, which He sowed unmixed and pure within my soul, The hand of Daja must for ever seek To plant the weeds, or flowers of her own land? He has no wish to see upon this soil Such rank luxuriant blossoms. I myself Must own I faint beneath the sour--sick odour; Your head is stronger and is used to it. I find no fault with those of stronger nerves Who can support it--mine, alas! give way. Your angel too, how near befool'd was I Through him; I blush whene'er I see my father. DAJA.As if, dear Recha, you alone were wise. Folly! If I might speak---- RECHA.And may you not? Have I not listened gladly to your tales About the valiant heroes of your faith? Have I not freely on their deeds bestowed My admiration--to their sufferings given The tribute of my tears? Their faith, 'tis true, Has never seemed to me their noblest boast, But, therefore, Daja, I have only learnt To find more consolation in the thought That our devotion to the God of all Depends not on our notions of that God. My father has so often taught me this-- You have so often to this point agreed, How can it be that you wish now alone To undermine what you have built together? But this is no discourse with which to wait The friend whom we expect--and yet for me 'Tis of some moment whether he----But hark! Hark! Some one comes this way.---If it were he! Scene II.The Templar, Daja, Recha. (A servant ushers in the Templar.) This way, Sir Knight!-- (Recha starts, composes herself, and is about to fall at his feet.) 'Tis he! my rescuer. Ah! TEMPLAR.'Twas only to avoid this scene that I So long postponed my visit. RECHA.At the feet Of this proud man, I will thank God alone, And not the man. He does not want my thanks-- As little as the bucket does which proved Itself so useful at the fire, and let Itself be filled and emptied; so this man, He too was thrust by chance amid the flames; I dropped by chance into his open arms, By chance remained there, like a fluttering spark Upon his mantle--till--I know not what Expelled us from the flames. What room is here For thanks?--In Europe wine excites the men To greater deeds--The Templar knows his duty, Performs his task, as well-trained spaniels do, Who fetch alike from water and from flames. TEMPLAR (who has been surveying her with surprise and uneasiness).O Daja, Daja! if in hasty hours Of care and grief, this unchecked tongue of mine Betrayed me into rudeness, why convey To her each idle word that leaves my lips? This is indeed too galling a revenge! Yet, if henceforth, you will interpret better---- DAJA.I question if these little stings, Sir Knight, Were so shot forth as to have done you wrong. RECHA.How! you had cares, and were more covetous Of them than of your life. TEMPLAR.Thou best of beings, How is my soul with eye and ear at strife? No, 'twas not she I rescued from the fire, For who could know her and forbear the deed? In truth, disguised by terror---- (He gazes on her as if entranced.) RECHA.But to me You still appear the same as then you seemed. (A pause, till she resumes in order to interrupt his reverie.) Tell me, Sir Knight, where have you been so long? And--I might almost ask--where are you now? TEMPLAR.I am where I, perhaps, ought not to be. RECHA.And been, perhaps, where you should not have been. That is not well. TEMPLAR.I have been up the mountain-- What is the name?--ay! Sinai! RECHA.I am glad; For, doubtless, you can tell me if 'tis true---- TEMPLAR.If what is true? If holy people show The spot where Moses stood before his God? RECHA.Oh no; not that. Wherever Moses stood It was before his God. I know enough About such things already. Is it true-- I wish to learn from you who have been there-- If it is not by far less difficult To climb than to descend the holy mount? For with all other mountains that I know, 'Tis quite the contrary. You turn away! Why do you turn, Sir Knight? Nay, look at me. TEMPLAR.I wish to hear you rather. RECHA.I perceive, Because you do not wish that I should see You smile at my simplicity. You smile That I have not some more important thing To ask about the holy hill of hills. Is it so? TEMPLAR.Must I meet those eyes again? And now you cast them down, and check your smile. How can I in those changeful features read What I so plainly hear--the truth your words So audibly declare, and yet would hide? How truly did your father say to me, "If you but knew her!" RECHA.Who said that to you? TEMPLAR.Your father, and of you he spoke the words. DAJA.Have I not said it to you many times? TEMPLAR.Where is your father now? with Saladin? RECHA.Doubtless he is. TEMPLAR.Still there! Oh, I forget. He cannot still be there. He waits for me, As he appointed, near the cloister gate. Forgive me, I must go in quest of him. DAJA.I will do that. Wait here, I'll bring him straight. TEMPLAR.O no, O no! He is expecting me. Besides, you cannot tell what may have chanced. 'Tis not unlikely he may be engaged With Saladin--you do not know the Sultan-- In some unpleasant----Danger may ensue If I delay. RECHA.Danger! for whom? for what? TEMPLAR.Danger for me--for you--for him! unless I go at once (Exit.) Scene III.Recha, Daja. RECHA.What is the matter, Daja? So quick! what ails him--makes him fly from hence? DAJA.Let him alone. I think it no bad sign. RECHA.Sign! and of what? DAJA.That something vexes him. It boils, but it must not boil over. Go, 'Tis your turn now. RECHA.My turn. You have become Incomprehensible to me--like him. DAJA.Now you may pay him back with interest All the unrest he once occasioned you. But be not too vindictive--too severe. RECHA.Well, Daja, you must know your meaning best. DAJA.And are you then already calm once more? RECHA.In truth I am. DAJA.Confess at least, dear Recha, That all this restlessness has brought you pleasure, And that you have to thank his want of ease For all the ease that you yourself enjoy. RECHA.I know not that, but I must still confess That to myself it seems a mystery How in this bosom, such a pleasing calm Can suddenly succeed so rude a storm. His countenance, his speech, his manner have---- DAJA.By this time satisfied you. RECHA.No, not that. DAJA.Well, satisfied your more impatient want. RECHA.Well, well, if you must have it so. DAJA.Not I! RECHA.To me he must be ever dear. To me He must remain more dear than life, although My pulse no longer flutters at his name, My heart no longer, when I think of him, Beats with a fuller throb. What have I said? Come, Daja, to the window once again Which overlooks the palms. DAJA.I see 'tis not Yet satisfied, that more impatient want. RECHA.Now, I shall see the palm--trees once again; Not him alone amidst them. DAJA.Such a fit Of coldness speaks of fevers yet to come. RECHA.Nay, I'm not cold, in truth I do not see Less gladly that which I do calmly see. Scene IV.(The Hall of Audience in Saladin's Palace.) Saladin, Sittah. SALADIN (giving directions).Bring the Jew here, as soon as he arrives. He seems in no great haste. SITTAH.Nay, Saladin, Perhaps he was not found at home. SALADIN.Ah, sister! SITTAH.You look as if some contest were at hand. SALADIN.Ay! and with weapons I'm not used to wield. Must I then play the hypocrite--and frame Precautions--lay a snare? Where learnt I that? And for what end? To seek for money--money! For money from a Jew? And to such arts Must Saladin descend, that he may win The most contemptible of paltry things? SITTAH.But paltry things, despised too much, are sure To find some method of revenge. SALADIN.'Tis true! What, if this Jew should prove an upright man, Such as the Dervise painted him? SITTAH.Why, then, Your difficulty ceases; for a snare Implies an avaricious, cheating Jew, And not an upright man. Then he is ours Without a snare. 'Twill give us joy to hear How such a man will speak--with what stern strength He'll tear the net, or with what cunning skill Untangle all its meshes, one by one. SALADIN.True, Sittah! 'twill afford me rare delight. SITTAH.What, then, need trouble you? For if he be, Like all his nation, a mere cozening Jew, You need not blush, if you appear to him No better than he deems all other men. But if to him you wear a different look, You'll be a fool--his dupe! SALADIN.So I must, then, Do ill, lest bad men should think ill of me. SITTAH.Yes, brother, if you call it doing ill To put a thing to its intended use. SALADIN.Well, there is nothing woman's wit invents It cannot palliate---- SITTAH.How, palliate? SALADIN.Sittah, I fear such fine-wrought filagree Will break in my rude hand. It is for those Who frame such plots to bring them into play. The execution needs the inventor's skill. But let it pass.--I'll dance as best I can-- Yet sooner would I do it ill than well. SITTAH.Oh, brother, have more courage in yourself! Have but the will, I'll answer for the rest. How strange that men like you are ever prone To think it is their swords alone that raise them. When with the fox the noble lion hunts, 'Tis of the fellowship he feels ashamed, But of the cunning, never. SALADIN.Well, 'tis strange That women so delight to bring mankind Down to their level. But, dear Sittah, go; I think I know my lesson. SITTAH.Must I go? You did not mean to stay? SITTAH.No, not with you, But in this neighb'ring chamber. SALADIN.What! to listen? Not so, my sister, if I shall succeed. Away! the curtain rustles--he is come. Beware of lingering! I'll be on the watch. (While Sittah retires through, one door, Nathan enters at another, and Saladin seats himself.) Scene V.Saladin, Nathan. SALADIN.Draw nearer, Jew--yet nearer--close to me! Lay fear aside. NATHAN.Fear, Sultan, 's for your foes. SALADIN.Your name is Nathan? NATHAN.Yes. SALADIN.Nathan the Wise. NATHAN.No. SALADIN.But, at least the people call you so. NATHAN.That may be true. The people! SALADIN.Do not think I treat the people's voice contemptuously. I have been wishing long to know the man Whom it has called the Wise. NATHAN.What, if it named Him so in scorn? If wise means prudent only-- And prudent, one who knows his interest well? SALADIN.Who knows his real interest, you mean. NATHAN.Then, Sultan, selfish men were the most prudent, And wise, and prudent, then, would mean the same. SALADIN.You're proving what your speeches contradict. You know the real interests of man: The people know them not--have never sought To know them. That alone can make man wise. NATHAN.Which every man conceives himself to be. SALADIN.A truce to modesty! To meet it ever, When we are seeking truth is wearisome (springs up). So, let us to the point. Be candid, Jew, Be frank and honest. NATHAN.I will serve you, prince, And prove that I am worthy of your favour. SALADIN.How will you serve me? NATHAN.You shall have the best Of all I have, and at the cheapest rate. SALADIN.What mean you? Not your wares?--My sister, then, Shall make the bargain with you. (That's for the listener!) I am not versed in mercantile affairs, And with a merchant's craft I've nought to do. NATHAN.Doubtless you would inquire if I have marked Upon my route the movements of the foe? Whether he's stirring? If I may presume---- SALADIN.Neither was that my object. On that point I know enough. But hear me. NATHAN.I obey. SALADIN.It is another, a far different thing On which I seek for wisdom; and since you Are called the Wise, tell me which faith or law You deem the best. NATHAN.Sultan, I am a Jew. SALADIN.And I a Mussulman. The Christian stands Between us. Here are three religions, then, And of these three one only can be true. A man like you remains not where his birth By accident has cast him; or if so, Conviction, choice, or ground of preference, Supports him. Let me, Nathan, hear from you, In confidence, the reasons of your choice, Which I have lacked the leisure to examine. It may be, Nathan, that I am the first Sultan who has indulged this strange caprice, Which need not, therefore, make a Sultan blush. Am I the first? Nay, speak; or if you seek A brief delay to shape your scattered thoughts, I yield it freely. (Has she overheard? She will inform me if I've acted right.) Reflect then, Nathan, I shall soon return. (Exit.) Scene VI.NATHAN (alone).Strange! how is this? What can the Sultan want? I came prepared for cash--he asks for truth! Truth! as if truth were cash! A coin disused-- Valued by weight! If so, 'twere well, indeed! But coin quite new, not coin but for the die, To be flung down and on the counter told---- It is not that. Like gold tied up in bags, Will truth lie hoarded in the wise man's head, To be produced at need? Now, in this case, Which of us plays the Jew? He asks for truth. Is truth what he requires? his aim, his end? Or does he use it as a subtle snare? That were too petty for his noble mind. Yet what is e'er too petty for the great? Did he not rush at once into the house, Whilst, as a friend, he would have paused or knocked? I must beware. Yet to repel him now And act the stubborn Jew, is not the thing; And wholly to fling off the Jew, still less. For if no Jew, he might with justice ask, Why not a Mussulman?--That thought may serve.-- Others than children may be quieted With tales well told. But see, he comes--he comes. Scene VII.Saladin, Nathan. SALADIN.(Aside) (The coast is clear)--I am not come too soon? Have you reflected on this matter, Nathan? Speak! no one hears. NATHAN.Would all the world might hear! SALADIN.And are you of your cause so confident? 'Tis wise, indeed, of you to hide no truth, For truth to hazard all, even life and goods. NATHAN.Ay, when necessity and profit bid. SALADIN.I hope that henceforth I shall rightly bear One of my names, "Reformer of the world And of the law!" NATHAN.A noble title, truly; But, Sultan, ere I quite explain myself, Permit me to relate a tale. SALADIN.Why not? I ever was a friend of tales well told. NATHAN.Well told! Ah, Sultan! that's another thing. SALADIN.What! still so proudly modest? But begin. NATHAN.In days of yore, there dwelt in Eastern lands A man, who from a valued hand received A ring of priceless worth. An opal stone Shot from within an ever-changing hue, And held this virtue in its form concealed, To render him of God and man beloved, Who wore it in this fixed unchanging faith. No wonder that its Eastern owner ne'er Withdrew it from his finger, and resolved That to his house the ring should be secured. Therefore he thus bequeathed it: first to him Who was the most beloved of his sons, Ordaining then that he should leave the ring To the most dear among his children; then, That without heeding birth, the fav'rite son, In virtue of the ring alone, should still Be lord of all the house. You hear me, Sultan? SALADIN.I understand. Proceed. NATHAN.From son to son, The ring at length descended to a sire Who had three sons, alike obedient to him, And whom he loved with just and equal love. The first, the second, and the third, in turn, According as they each apart received The overflowings of his heart, appeared Most worthy as his heir, to take the ring, Which, with good-natured weakness, he in turn Had promised privately to each; and thus Things lasted for a while. But death approached, The father now embarrassed, could not bear To disappoint two sons, who trusted him. What's to be done? In secret he commands The jeweller to come, that from the form Of the true ring, he may bespeak two more. Nor cost nor pains are to be spared, to make The rings alike--quite like the true one. This The artist managed. When the rings were brought The father's eye could not distinguish which Had been the model. Overjoyed, he calls His sons, takes leave of each apart--bestows His blessing and his ring on each--and dies. You hear me? SALADIN (who has turned away in perplexity).Ay! I hear. Conclude the tale. NATHAN.'Tis ended, Sultan! All that follows next May well be guessed. Scarce is the father dead, When with his ring, each separate son appears, And claims to be the lord of all the house. Question arises, tumult and debate-- But all in vain--the true ring could no more Be then distinguished than----(after a pause, in which he awaits the Sultan's reply) the true faith now. SALADIN.Is that your answer to my question? NATHAN.No! But it may serve as my apology. I cannot venture to decide between Rings which the father had expressly made, To baffle those who would distinguish them. SALADIN.Rings, Nathan! Come, a truce to this! The creeds Which I have named have broad, distinctive marks, Differing in raiment, food, and drink! NATHAN.'Tis true! But then they differ not in their foundation. Are not all built on history alike, Traditional or written? History Must be received on trust. Is it not so? In whom are we most likely to put trust? In our own people? in those very men Whose blood we are? who, from our earliest youth Have proved their love for us, have ne'er deceived, Except in cases where 'twere better so? Why should I credit my forefathers less Than you do yours? or can I ask of you To charge your ancestors with falsehood, that The praise of truth may be bestowed on mine? And so of Christians. SALADIN.By our Prophet's faith, The man is right. I have no more to say. NATHAN.Now let us to our rings once more return. We said the sons complained; each to the judge Swore from his father's hand immediately To have received the ring--as was the case-- In virtue of a promise, that he should One day enjoy the ring's prerogative. In this they spoke the truth. Then each maintained It was not possible that to himself His father had been false. Each could not think His father guilty of an act so base. Rather than that, reluctant as he was To judge his brethren, he must yet declare Some treach'rous act of falsehood had been done. SALADIN.Well! and the judge? I'm curious now to hear What you will make him say. Go on, go on! NATHAH.The judge said: If the father is not brought Before my seat, I cannot judge the case. Am I to judge enigmas? Do you think That the true ring will here unseal its lips? But, hold! You tell me that the real ring Enjoys the secret power to make the man Who wears it, both by God and man, beloved. Let that decide. Who of the three is loved Best by his brethren? Is there no reply? What! do these love--exciting rings alone Act inwardly? Have they no outward charm? Does each one love himself alone? You're all Deceived deceivers. All your rings are false. The real ring, perchance, has disappeared; And so your father, to supply the loss, Has caused three rings to fill the place of one. SALADIN.O, charming, charming! NATHAN.And,--the judge continued:-- If you insist on judgment, and refuse My counsel, be it so. I recommend That you consider how the matter stands. Each from his father has received a ring: Let each then think the real ring his own. Your father, possibly, desired to free His power from one ring's tyrannous control. He loved you all with an impartial love, And equally, and had no inward wish To prove the measure of his love for one By pressing heavily upon the rest. Therefore, let each one imitate this love; So, free from prejudice, let each one aim To emulate his brethren in the strife To prove the virtues of his several ring, By offices of kindness and of love, And trust in God. And if, in years to come, The virtues of the ring shall reappear Amongst your children's children, then, once more, Come to this judgment--seat. A greater far Than I shall sit upon it, and decide. So spake the modest judge. SALADIN.Oh God, O God! NATHAN.And if now, Saladin, you think you're he---- SALADIN.(Approaches Nathan, and takes his hand, which he retains to the end of the scene.) This promised judge--I?--Dust! I?--Nought! oh God! NATHAN.What is the matter, Sultan? SALADIN.Dearest Nathan! That judge's thousand years are not yet past; His judgment-seat is not for me. But go, And still remain my friend. NATHAN.Has Saladin Aught else to say? SALADIN.No. NATHAN.Nothing? SALADIN.Truly nothing. But why this eagerness? NATHAN.I could have wished An opportunity to ask a boon. SALADIN.Wait not for opportunity. Speak now. NATHAN.I have been traveling, and am just returned From a long journey, from collecting debts. Hard cash is troublesome these perilous times, I know not where I may bestow it safely. These coming wars need money; and, perchance, You can employ it for me, Saladin? SALADIN (fixing his eyes upon Nathan).I ask not, Nathan, have you seen Al-Hafi? Nor if some shrewd suspicion of your own Moves you to make this offer. NATHAN.What suspicion? SALADIN.I do not ask--forgive me,--it is just, For what avails concealment? I confess I was about---- NATHAN.To ask this very thing? SALADIN.Yes! NATHAN.Then our objects are at once fulfilled, And if I cannot send you all my store, The Templar is to blame for that. You know The man. I owe a heavy debt to him. SALADIN.The Templar! Surely, Nathan, with your gold You do not aid my direst foes? NATHAN.I speak Of him whose life was spared by Saladin. SALADIN.Of what do you remind me? I had quite Forgot the youth. Where is he? Know you him? NATHAN.Have you not heard, then, how your clemency Through him has flowed to me? How, at the risk Of the existence which your mercy gave, He saved my daughter from the raging flames? SALADIN.Ha! did he so? He looked like one that would! My brother, too--his image--would have done it. Is he still here? Bring him to me at once. I have so often spoken to my sister Of this same brother, whom she never knew, That I must let her see his counterfeit. Go, fetch him. How a single noble deed, Though but the offspring of the merest whim, Gives birth to other blessings! Bring him to me. NATHAN (loosing Saladin's hand).I'll go--the other matter then is settled. (Exit.) SALADIN.I wish I had but let my sister listen. I'll go at once to her and tell it all. (Exit on the opposite side.) Scene VIII.The Place of Palms in the neighbourhood of the Convent, where the Templar awaits Nathan. TEMPLAR (walking to and fro, in conflict with himself.)The panting victim here may rest awhile. So far 'tis well. I dare not ask myself What change has sprung within me, nor inquire What yet may happen. Flight has proved in vain, And, come what may, I could no more than flee, The stroke was far too sudden to escape. Long--much--I strove to keep aloof, in vain. But once to see her, e'en against my will, To see her, and to frame a firm resolve Never to lose her. What, then, is resolve? Resolve is purpose--action, while--in truth-- I was but passive. But to see her once, And feel that I was woven into her being, Was then and still remains the self-same thing. To live apart from her--oh, bitter thought!-- Were death; and after death--where'er we were-- 'Twould there be death too. Say, then, is this love? And doth the Templar love? A Christian loves A Jewish maiden! Well, and what of that? This is the holy land; holy to me, And dear, because I have of late renounced Full many a prejudice. What says my vow? In the same hour that made me prisoner To Saladin. The head he gave me back, Was it the old one? No. I'm newly framed, I know no fragment of the ancient forms That bound me once. My brain is clearer now, More fit for my paternal home above. Now I can think as once my father thought, If tales of him are not untruly told-- Tales that were ne'er so credible as now, When I am stumbling where my father fell. Fell! yet 'twere better far to fall with men Than stand with boys. His conduct guarantees His approbation. And what need I more Than Nathan's approbation? Of his praise I cannot doubt. Oh, what a Jew is he! And yet he would appear the simple Jew. But, see, he comes--he comes in haste--delight Beams from his eye. But who leaves Saladin With other looks? Ho! Nathan! Scene IX.Nathan, the Templar. NATHAN.Are you there? TEMPLAR.Your visit to the Sultan has been long. NATHAN.Not over long. My audience was delayed. But, Conrad, this man well supports his fame-- His fame is but his shadow. But I must Without delay inform you that he would---- TEMPLAR.Say on. NATHAN.Would speak with you. So, come with me at once. I have some brief commands to give at home, Then to the Sultan. TEMPLAR.Nathan, I will ne'er Enter your door again---- NATHAN.Then you've been there Already--spoken with her. Tell me all. How do you like my Recha? TEMPLAR.Words would fail To tell how much. I dare not trust myself Alone with her again, unless you say That I may gaze upon her form for ever. NATHAN.What can this mean? TEMPLAR (after a short pause, embracing him suddenly).My father! NATHAN.How, young man? TEMPLAR (withdrawing himself as suddenly).Call me your son! I do implore you, Nathan. NATHAN.Dear youth! TEMPLAR.And not your son! I pray you, Nathan, Conjure you, by the strongest ties of Nature, Let it content you now to be a man: Repel me not. NATHAN.My dearest friend! TEMPLAR.Say son! Why not your son? What, if in Recha's heart Mere gratitude had paved the way for love, And if we both but waited your assent To crown our union! You are silent, sir! NATHAN.I am astonished at your words, young Knight. TEMPLAR.Astonished! Do I then astonish you With your own thoughts, although you know them not When uttered by my lips. Astonished, Nathan? NATHAN.Would that I knew what Stauffen was your father! TEMPLAR.What say you, Nathan? At a time like this, Can you indulge such empty, curious thoughts? NATHAN.I knew a Stauffen once whose name was Conrad. TEMPLAR.What, if my father bore that very name? NATHAN.And did he so? TEMPLAR.I bear my father's name, I am called Conrad. NATHAN.So! And yet the man I knew was not your father, for, like you, He was a Templar, and was never married. TEMPLAR.And what of that? NATHAN.How? TEMPLAR.He might still have been My father. NATHAN.Nay, you jest. TEMPLAR.You're far too good. What matters it? Does bastard wound your ear? The race, good sir, is not to be despised. But spare my pedigree, and I'll spare yours. Great God! forbid my words should ever cast The smallest doubt on your ancestral tree. You can attest it backwards, leaf by leaf, To Abraham. And from that point--I know it well, Myself--can even swear to it. NATHAN.Your words are bitter. Do I merit this? What have I e'er refused you? I have but Forborn assent at the first word you spoke. No more! TEMPLAR.Oh! true, no more. Forgive me, Nathan. NATHAN.Well, come with me, come. TEMPLAR.Whither? to your house? That will I not--it burns. I'll wait you here. Farewell. If I'm to see her once again, I then shall see her often; and if not, I have already seen her too--too much. Scene X.The Templar, Daja. TEMPLAR.Too much, indeed! Strange that the human brain So infinite of comprehension, should At times with a mere trifle be engrossed, Suddenly filled, and all at once quite full, No matter what it teems with. But the soul Soon calms again, and the fermenting stuff Makes itself room, restoring life and order. And is this, then, the first time that I love? And was the glow to which I gave that name Not love at all? And is this love alone Which now with burning flame consumes my heart? DAJA (who has crept up to his side).Sir Knight! Sir Knight! TEMPLAR.Who calls? What, Daja, you! DAJA.Yes, I am here; I managed to slip by him. But he can see us where we stand. Come nearer, And place yourself with me behind this tree. TEMPLAR.Why so mysterious? What's the secret, Daja? DAJA.Yes, 'tis a secret which has brought me hither-- A twofold secret. Part is known to me, The other part to you. Come, let us change: First tell me yours, and then I'll tell you mine. TEMPLAR.Yes, willingly, when I have ascertained What you call mine. But yours will throw a light Upon the whole. Begin, then. DAJA.That's not fair; You must begin, Sir Knight, and I will follow. For be assured my secret's nothing worth, Unless I hear yours first. Then lose no time, For if I guess it, you've not trusted me; My secret, then, will be my own, and yours Worth nothing. But do you suppose, Sir Knight, That you can hide such secrets from a woman? TEMPLAR.Secrets we often are unconscious of. DAJA.Perhaps. But I must prove myself your friend And tell you all. Confess how happened it That you so suddenly took leave of us, And that with Nathan you will not return? Has Recha, then, made no impression on you, Or made too deep a one, perchance? Oh yes! Too deep--too deep! You are a hapless bird Whose fluttering wing the fatal twig has limed, Confess it, plainly, with a word, you love-- Love her to madness, and I'll tell you then---- TEMPLAR.To madness? Ah! you understand it well. DAJA.Well, grant the love, the madness I'll resign. TEMPLAR.Because, of course, there is no doubt of it. A Templar love a Jewess!---- DAJA.Why, it seems Absurd. But often there's more fitness in Some things than we can readily discern; And 'twould not be the first time that our Lord Had drawn us to Him by a secret path Which we had ne'er discovered of ourselves. TEMPLAR.Solemnly spoken I (and if for our Lord I substituted Providence, 'twere true). You make me curious, far beyond my wont. DAJA.This is the land of miracles! TEMPLAR.Ay, true, Of miracles! Can it be otherwise, When all the world flocks hither? Dearest Daja, You have your wish; so take it as confessed That I do love her, nor can comprehend How I can live without her. DAJA.Can this be? Then swear, Sir Knight, to make her yours--to save Her here on earth--to save her there for ever. TEMPLAR.How can I this? How can I swear to do What stands not in my power. DAJA.'Tis in your power! One single word brings it within your power. TEMPLAR.But will her father smile upon my suit? DAJA.Her father, truly! He shall be compelled. TEMPLAR.Compell'd! What, has he fallen among thieves? Compell'd! DAJA.Then hear me. Nathan will consent: He must consent. TEMPLAR.Consent! and must! Oh, Daja! I have already tried to touch that chord; It vibrates not responsive. DAJA.What! reject you? TEMPLAR.He answered me in such discordant tone That I was hurt. DAJA.What say you? Did you breathe The shadow of a wish to marry Recha. And did not Nathan leap for joy? Did he Draw coldly back--raise obstacles? TEMPLAR.He did. DAJA.Then I'll deliberate no moment more. TEMPLAR (after a pause).And yet you are deliberating still. DAJA.Nathan in all things has been ever good. I owe him much. Did he refuse to listen? God knows it grieves me to constrain him thus. TEMPLAR.I pray you, Daja, now to terminate This dire uncertainty. But if you doubt Whether the thing you would impart to me Be right or wrong, worthy of shame or honour, Then tell it not, and henceforth I'll forget You have a secret it were well to hide. DAJA.Your words but spur me on to tell you all. Then learn that Recha is no Jewess--that She is a Christian maid. TEMPLAR (coldly).I wish you joy! At last the tedious labour's at an end. The birth-pangs have not hurt you. Still go on With undiminished zeal, and people heaven When you are fit no more to people earth. DAJA.How, Knight! and does the news I bring deserve Such bitter taunts? Does it confer no joy On you to hear that Recha is a Christian, On you, her lover, and a Christian knight? TEMPLAR.And more especially since Recha is A Christian of your making? DAJA.Think you so? Then I would fain see him that may convert her. It is her fate long since to have been that Which she can now no more become. TEMPLAR.Explain, Or leave me. DAJA.Well! she is a Christian maid, Of Christian parents born--and is baptised. TEMPLAR (hastily).And Nathan! DAJA.Not her father. TEMPLAR.Nathan not Her father? Are you sure of that? DAJA.I am; The truth has cost me tears of blood. He's not. TEMPLAR.But as his daughter he has brought her up, Brought up the Christian maiden as a Jewess? DAJA.Just so. TEMPLAR.And knows she aught about her birth? Has she not learnt from him that she was born A Christian and no Jewess? DAJA.Never yet. TEMPLAR.And he not only let the child grow up In this mistaken notion, but he leaves The woman in it. DAJA.Ay, alas! TEMPLAR.Oh, Nathan! How can the wise, good Nathan lend himself To stifle Nature's voice--to misdirect The yearnings of a heart in such a way Which, to itself abandoned, would have formed Another bias, Daja? Ay, in truth, The secret is of moment, and may have Important issues. But I feel perplexed: I know not how I ought to act. But go, Let me have breathing time. He may approach, He may surprise us suddenly. Farewell! DAJA.I tremble with affright. TEMPLAR.And I can scarce Express my thoughts. But go; and should you chance To meet him, say he'll find me at the Sultan's. DAJA.Let him not see that you have any thing Against him. That 'twere well to keep reserved, To give the proper turn to things at last. It may remove your scruples, touching Recha. But if you take her back to Europe, Knight, You will not leave me here? TEMPLAR.We'll see, now go! |
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