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NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Ä Dramatic Poem in Five acts, 
 
 Introite, nam et hvic DU sunt. 
 
 Apud Gellium. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 
 
 G." E. LESSING 
 
 NEW OBLEANS: 
 JOHN P HOPKINS, PRINTElt, 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 1894, 
 
 ^ö'?/"Z 
 
 / 
 
\ 
 PERSONS. 
 
 Sultan Saladin. 
 
 Sittah, -------- - - - his sister. 
 
 Nathan, ------ a rich Jew at Jerusalem. 
 
 Rech a, ------- his adopted daughter. 
 
 Daya, - - a Christian icoman living in Nathan's 
 
 house as companion to Recha . 
 
 A young Templar. 
 
 a dervish. 
 
 The Patriarch of Jerusalem. 
 
 a lay-brother. 
 
 An emir and several of Saladin's mamelukes. 
 
 The Scene is at Jebusalem. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Entmnee^hall in Nathan's house, Nathan returning from 
 a journey. Daya coming to meet him. 
 
 DAYA, 
 
 'Tis he himself ! 'tis Nathan ! — God be praised, 
 For ever praised, that you have come at last I 
 
 NATHAN» 
 
 Yes, Daya, God be praised ! But why at last ? 
 Had I the wish to hasten my return ? 
 Could I have done so ? For Jerusalem 
 Is full two hundred miles from Babylon 
 For ODe who is forced, as I have been, to turn 
 Often to right and left upon the way; 
 And gathering in old debts is not a task 
 That's soon despatched. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 O Nathan, at this hour 
 A wretched, wretched man you might have been ! 
 Your house. . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Has been in flames. So much I heard. — 
 God grant there's nothing more ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 It might have been 
 Burnt to the ground. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then, Daya, we could build 
 Another, and a better one. 
 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DATA. 
 
 'Tis true I— 
 But Becha by a hair's breadth would have been 
 Burnt with it. 
 
 NATHAN . 
 
 Burnt? my Becha? is it she 
 You mean ? — I had not heard that. — So should I 
 Haye needed no house more I— -By a hair's breadth 
 My Becha burnt I — Ha ! and she is, perhaps, 
 Is indeed burnt I — Speak out ! — Kill me at once, 
 And do not torture me. — Yes, she is burnt. 
 
 DATA. 
 
 Would you have had such tidings from my lips 
 If it were so ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Why terrify me then ? — 
 O Becha ! my Becha ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Yours ? your Becha ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How 
 Could I ever cease to call this child my child ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 And do you call all you possess your own 
 "With as much right only ? 
 
 NATHAN . 
 
 Nothing with greater right ! 
 All I possess beside has been bestowed 
 By nature and by chance. But this I owe 
 To virtue. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 What a price you ask of me 
 In payment for your kindness ! If, indeed, 
 What has been done for such an end may bear 
 The name of kindness ! 
 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 
 
 My conscience . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Such an end ? What end ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Daya, let me tell you first . . . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 I say, my conscience . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What I bought for you 
 At Babylon, a stuff so beautiful, 
 So rich ! For Kecha even I have scarce 
 A gift more costly. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 What is that to me ? 
 My conscience, I must tell you once for all. 
 No longer will be stifled, 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How the chaiü, 
 The ear-drops, and the ring I chose for you 
 While at Damascus will delight you too, 
 I long to see. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Always the same! Content 
 If you can only give ! can only give ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Do you take gladly, even as I give; — 
 And still keep silence 1 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Nathan, who can doubt 
 That you are upright, generous ? And yet . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yet after all I am a Jew.— Is that 
 What you meant to say? 
 
DAYA. 
 
 What I meant to say you know 
 Far better. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then keep silence I 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Be it so I 
 If what is evil in the sight of God 
 Is done here, and I cannot hinder it 
 Nor change it — cannot — let it be on you I 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 On me alone ! — But Recha, where is she ? — 
 Daya, if you deceive me ! . . . Does she know 
 That I am here ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 That I would ask of you f 
 Still quivers every nerve with terror; still 
 Fancy paints fire on all she looks upon. 
 Her soul wakes when she sleeps, sleeps when she 
 
 wakes: 
 Now less than brute, now more than angel seems. 
 
 Poor child ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What are we men ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 This morning, long 
 She lay with eyes fast closed as if in death. 
 Then sudden starting up, she cried aloud : 
 " Hark ! hark ! my father's camels come ! I hear 
 His own kind voice!" — Her eyes grew dim, her arm 
 Sank powerless, and her head fell back again 
 Upon her pillow. — To the gates I ran I 
 And see ! you come, you come indeed ! It was 
 A miracle ! Her whole soul had gone forth 
 To be with you — and him. 
 
NATHAN, 
 
 And him ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 With him 
 Who saved her from the flames. 
 
 NATHAN, 
 
 Who was it ? who ? 
 Who saved my Recha ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 A young Templar, brought 
 A captive to this place not long before, 
 And spared by Saladin. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A Templar spared 
 
 By Saladin ? Could not a miracle 
 Less great save Eecha ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 But for him who staked 
 A second time what he so regained, she would 
 Have perished . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Lead me to this noble man I— - 
 Where is he, Daya. where ? You gave him all 
 The treasure I had left with you ? gave all ? 
 And promised more ? much more ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 How could we ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then 
 
 You did not? did not? 
 
 DAYA, 
 
 None knew whence he came 
 Nor where he weüt. Led by his ear alone, 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 His mantle spread before, through flame and smoke 
 He pressed where the voice called to. us for help. 
 We thought him lost already when at once 
 He stood before us, out of smoke and flame 
 Bearing her in his strong arms high upheld. 
 Cold and unmoved by our loud clamorous thanks 
 He put his burden down, and in the crowd 
 He vanished. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not for ever, let me hope! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Under the palm-trees there we saw him pass 
 
 A few days later, walking back and forth 
 
 Beside the grave of Him who rose again. 
 
 Joyful I hastened to him, offered all, 
 
 Thanked him, entreated him but once to see 
 
 The gentle creature who could find no rest 
 
 Till she had wept out at his feet her tears 
 
 Of gratitude. In vain ! He was as one 
 
 Deaf to our praters, and heaped on me such words 
 
 Of bitter mockery. . . 
 
 You left him ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 That in dismay 
 
 Only to return again 
 Day after day, and be received with scorn. 
 What have I not endured ! what would I not 
 Endure still from him ! — But it has been long 
 Since last he came tc» walk beneath the palms 
 That shade the grave of our risen Lurd, 
 And none knows where he is. — You seem amazed 
 And lost in thought? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN . 
 
 I did but ask myself 
 How on a inind like Becha's it has worked 
 To be despised by one she must esteem 
 Most noble; to be thrust away r and yet 
 So drawn to him. — How long must heart and head 
 Together strive, till either hate or grief 
 Had conquered ! Yet how oft in such a strife 
 Does neither conquer, and quick Fancy comes 
 To mingle in the conflict and lead forth 
 The dreamer, the enthusiast, in whom 
 The head now overcomes the heart, and now 
 The heart the head. — O pitiful exchange I — 
 If she is what I think her, 'tis this last 
 That has befallen Becha. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 So gentle 
 
 But so good, 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A visionary still! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 One— whim, 
 If you will have it so, is dear to her 
 Above the rest. Her Templar was no man, 
 No dweller upon earth; an angel, one 
 To whose peculiar care even as a child 
 She loved to think herself intrusted, left 
 The cloud that had concealed him, hovered near 
 Amid the flames, and took on him at last 
 The semblance of a Templar. — Do not smile ! — 
 Who knows? it may have been! Or if you smile, 
 Do not at least awake her from a dream 
 That Christian, Jew, and Mussulman unite 
 In cherishing; — how sweet a dream ! 
 

 10 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Tö me 
 Sweet also ! — Go to her, good Daya; see 
 What she's about, if I may speak to her. — 
 Then let me seek for him at once, this strange 
 Capricious angel. If it please him yet 
 To wander here below and play so ill 
 His knightly part, I shall soon find him out 
 And bring him to her. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 It is no light task 
 
 That you have undertaken. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The sweet dream 
 To a far sweeter waking will give place. — 
 For trust me, Daya, to the heart of man \ 
 A fellow-man must ever be more dear 
 Than any angel. — So you will not chide, 
 Will not be angry with me when you see 
 Our angel-dreamer healed ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 How kind you are ! 
 
 Yet at the same time how unkind ! — I'll go ! 
 But hark ! but see ! — She comes to you herself. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Reoha and the preceding, 
 RECHA. 
 
 Is it you my father, you indeed ? and not 
 
 Only a part of you ? I thought you had 
 
 But sent your voice before. What mountains now, 
 
 What streams, what deserts part us ? Once again 
 
Under tbe same roof, and you do not haste 
 To meet your Becha, your poor Becha, who 
 Was almost, almost burnt to death ! Not quite, 
 But almost. Do not shudder! Yet it is 
 A fearful thirjg to burn to death. 
 
 My own dear child ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 EECHA. 
 
 My child 
 
 What rivers you have crossed r 
 Euphrates, Tigris, Jordan, — who can tell 
 How many more beside ? — And oh, how oft 
 I've trembled for you, till the fire came 
 So near me ! Since the fire came so near, 
 To die by drowning only seems to me 
 Belief, refreshment, rescue. — But you are 
 Not drowned; I am not burnt. O how we shall 
 Bejoice together and praise God ! He bore 
 You and your bark across the treacherous stream 
 Upon the wings of angels, though to you 
 Invisible, And He it was who sent 
 My angel to me, bade him visibly 
 On his white pinions bear me through the flames. . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 (White pinions ! yes, the mantle spread before 
 The Templar.) 
 
 HECHA. 
 
 Visibly he bore me through 
 The flames, by his broad pinions fanned aside. — 
 I too have seen an angel; I have seen 
 My angel face to face. 
 
 i 
 
 
J2 
 
 NATHAN TPIE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Recha would be 
 Worthy of such a vision, and would see 
 Nothing in him more fair than he in her. 
 
 recha (smilirg). 
 Whom do you flatter now, my father? who n ? 
 The angel or yourself ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yet had it been 
 A man — such a man as nature daily forms — 
 Who rendered you this service, in your sight 
 He must have been an angel; must and would. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Not such an angel, no ! surely he was 
 A real one ! — For have not you yourself 
 Taught me there may be angels, and that God 
 For those who love Him can work miracles ? 
 I love Him, 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And He loves you too, and works 
 For you and such as you each day, each hour 
 Fresh miracles: yes, from eternity 
 Has done so. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 How I like to hear that ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What, 
 Because it sounds so natural to say 
 A Templar rescued you, is it the less 
 A miracle ? The greatest miracle 
 Is that a true, a real miracle 
 Can be, should be so natural a thing. 
 But for this universal miracle 
 A thinking mind would hardly ever cnll 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 13 
 
 By such a name what none bat children must 
 So call, who only follow after what 
 Is newest, only gape with wonder at 
 The unaccustomed. 
 
 day a. (to Nathan), 
 
 Will you now confuse 
 Still more by subtleties like these a brain 
 Already overwrought ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Leave that to mel— 
 Would not my Kecha ttaink it miracle 
 Enough to have been rescued by a man 
 Who himself by no common miracle 
 Had first been rescued ? For who heard before 
 That Sultan Saladiu had ever spared 
 A Templar ? that a Templar ever asked 
 That he would spare him ? hoped for it ? could give 
 More than his leathern sword-beit in return 
 For freedom, and at most his dagger ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 This, 
 My father, this but proves that he was not 
 A Templar; that he only seemed to be. — 
 No Templar to Jerusalem is brought 
 Except to meet with certain death; and none 
 Was ever in Jerusalem so free 
 To come and go: how then could such a one 
 Have rescued me at night ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 She reasons well !— 
 Now, Day a, speak ! It was from you I heard 
 That he was brought a captive to this place. 
 Doubtless you know more. 
 
 , 
 
 ^ 
 
14 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 So 'tis said indeed; — 
 But 'tis said also be was spared because 
 He was so like the Sultan's brother, one 
 Most dearly loved. And yet for twenty years 
 This brother has been dead, — I was not told 
 His name, nor where he died — and the whole tale 
 Is so incredible it must be false. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Why Daya, what is there in this that's so 
 
 Incredible ? It cannot be — yet may — 
 
 You would reject it to believe what's more 
 
 Incredible ? Why could not Saladin, 
 
 Whose love for all his brothers is well known, 
 
 In earlier years have loved one brother best ? — 
 
 Do no two faces ever look alike ? — • 
 
 Are old impressions always lost? — Since when 
 
 Does the same cause no longer bring about 
 
 The same effect? — What's here incredible ? — 
 
 Truly, wise Daya, you could find in this 
 
 No miracle; and miracles alone 
 
 Call for . . . I should have said, deserve belief. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 You are jesting. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Only because you jest with me. 
 Bat even so, Recha, is your rescue still 
 A miracle, impossible except 
 To Him whose pleasure 'tis — if not His sport — 
 Ever by feeblest means to turn aside 
 The stern resolves, the proud designs of kings. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My father, if I err, you know I err 
 
 Not willingly. 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 
 
 «5 
 
 NATHAN, 
 
 No, rather you receive 
 Instruction willingly. — See then ! a brow 
 Arched in this way or that; a nose that's shaped 
 Thus and not otherwise; eyebrows that have 
 A harsher or a softer sweep; a line, 
 A curve, an angle, a mere nothing in 
 This European face; — and you are saved 
 From death by fire in Asia ! Ye who seek 
 For miracles, is this no miraele ? 
 What need of any angel ? 
 
 DAY A. 
 
 Yet what harm, 
 Nathan, if one should wish to think one's self 
 Saved by an angel rather than a man ? 
 Does it not make one feel one's self more near 
 To the First Cause incomprehensible 
 Whence reseue came ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Pride 1 nothing but pride I 
 The iron vessel would with silver tongs 
 Be taken from the fire, that it may seem 
 A silver vessel to itself. — You ask 
 What is the harm ? You should have asked instead 
 What is the use ? — For when you speak of this 
 As " making one feel nearer God," your words 
 Are either senseless or else blasphemous. — 
 And there is harm; yes, there is harm in it. — 
 Come, listen both ! — This angel or this man, 
 Do you not long to render him some great, 
 Some mighty service ? — Yet what service can 
 Be rendered to an angel ? You may sigh 
 And pray to him, offer him thanks and vows, 
 
 
 ^ 
 
Give alms and fast upon his holy day, 
 
 And dwell upon the thought of him until 
 
 You melt with ecstasy. — To me it seems 
 
 You serve your neighbor and yourself thereby 
 
 Far more than you serve him. He does not grow 
 
 The fatter for your fasting, is not made 
 
 The richer by your spending, will not gain 
 
 New splendor from your ecstasy, nor from 
 
 Your trust in him new might. Is it not so ? 
 
 But on the other hand, a man . . ► 
 
 DATA. 
 
 A man 
 Would indeed have allowed us to perform 
 Some service for him, would have given us 
 Occasion for such service. And God knows 
 How ready to perform it we have been I 
 But he wished nothing, needed nothing, was 
 Sufficient in himself and to himself 
 As only angels are, as only they 
 Can be. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And when he vanished from our sight . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He vanished ? — Vanished how ? — Beneath the palms 
 No longer let himself be seen? — Or have 
 You sought him elsewhere ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 That we have not done. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You have not, Daya ? — Now then, see the harm ! — 
 Cruel enthusiasts !— What if he is — sick ! . . . 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Sick! 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 *7 
 
 DAYA, 
 
 O no, he is not sick ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 How cold 
 The chill that has come over me !— -My brow, 
 Just now so warm, — O feel it, Daya, how 
 'Tis all at once like ice I 
 
 NATHAN, 
 
 He is a Frank, 
 And to this climate cannot yet have grown 
 Accustomed. He is young, and still unused 
 To his hard calling, to its hunger, toil, 
 And watchful nights. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Sick ! sick and suffering ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Nathan means only that it may be so, 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Now he lies there without a friend, without 
 The gold to buy friends ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah, my father ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 There 
 He lies without attendance, counsel, help, 
 The prey of pain and death ! 
 
 RECHA, 
 
 Where ? where ? 
 
 NATHAN. ' 
 
 He who for one whom he had never known, 
 
 Had never seen — enough for him, she was 
 
 A fellow- creature— rushed into the flames . . . 
 

 DAYA. 
 
 Nathan, spare her I 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who did not seek to know 
 Her whom he rescued, that she might not have 
 To thank him ... 
 
 DATA. 
 
 Spare her, Nathan I 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 "Who had no wish 
 Ever to see her more, unless it were 
 To rescue her again — enough for him, 
 She was a fellow-creature . . . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Cease and look t 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He, he in death has nothing to console, 
 Nothing to cheer him but the consciousness 
 Of that good deed ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Cease I you are killing her ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And you have killed him — might have killed him 
 
 so! — 
 Eecha I Recha ! 'tis a healing draught, 
 Not poison that I offer you. He lives ! — 
 Come to yourself ! — he may even not be sick ! 
 
 RECH A. 
 
 Not dead ? not sick ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Surely not dead ! For God 
 Rewards here too the good done here. — But go ! — 
 Do you not see it now, how much more hard 
 Right-doing is than pious ecstasy ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 *9 
 
 How gladly they who shrink from effort yield 
 To pious eestasy — although at times 
 Unconscious of their motive — to escape 
 The greater labor of right-doing ? 
 
 BECHA. 
 
 Ah, 
 
 My father, never leave me to myself ! — 
 May he not be upon a journey ? 
 
 nathan. 
 
 Go! — 
 He may. — I see a Mussulman who views 
 My loaded camels with a curious eye. 
 Do you know him ? 
 
 DAYA 
 
 Ha ! it is your dervish ! 
 
 NATHAN, 
 
 ÖAYA. 
 
 Who? 
 
 The dervish who played chess with you, 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Al-Hafi? 
 
 What, he? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Now the Sultan's treasurer. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How so? Al-Hafi? Are you dreaming still?— 
 
 But it is he ! — and see, he comes this way. 
 
 In with you quickly ! — What shall I hear next ? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 nathan and the dervish. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Open your eyes even wider, if you can ! 
 
~ . 
 
 20 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Is it you ? or is it not ? — A dervish in 
 A garb so rich ? 
 
 DEKYISH. 
 
 Why not ? Can nothing then 
 Be made of a dervish ? nothing ? 
 
 NATHAN . 
 
 Much, indeed I — 
 But a true dervish, I have always thought, 
 Would not let anything be made of him. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 By the Prophet ! it may be that I am not 
 
 One of the right sort. Yet we sometimes must. . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Must, dervish ! — Should a dervish say he must ? 
 No man must ever, — and a dervish must ? 
 What must he ? 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 What another begs of him 
 
 And he himself thinks right, a dervish must. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 By our God ! well said. — Embrace me, friend.- 
 For you are still my friend ? 
 
 DERVISH, 
 
 Why not ask first 
 What has been made of me ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 My friend 
 
 In spite of that 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 May I not hold some place that would 
 Unfit me for your friendship ? 
 
NATHAN, 
 
 If at heart 
 You are a dervish yet, I'll take the risk. 
 The servant of the State is not yourself, 
 Only your robe of office. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 And that too 
 Will be respected, — At a court of yours 
 What should I be ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A dervish, nothing more. 
 If anything beside, why then — my cook. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Yes ! that I might unlearn my trade with you. — 
 Your cook! not even your butler? — Come, confess 
 The Sultan knows me better.— -Eor I am 
 His treasurer. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The Sultan's? you? 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Though not 
 The keeper of the greater treasure; that 
 Is in his father's hands; — but only of 
 The treasure for his household. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 It, is large, 
 The Sultan's household. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Larger than you think; 
 There's not a beggar but belongs to it. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yet Saladin to beggars is so fierce 
 A foe. . . 
 
DERVISH . 
 
 That he'd destroy them root and branchy 
 Though he beggar himself in doing so, 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Bravo ! 
 'Tis as you say, I think. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 And he is now 
 As good as beggared ! — For his treasury 
 Is every day at sunset more, far more 
 Than empty, since however high the flood 
 Poured in each morning, it has ebbed away 
 Long before noon. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Because it is in part 
 Drained off through channels that can neither be 
 Closed up nor filled. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 You have it ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That I know ! 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 It is indeed unfitting for a prince 
 
 To be a vulture among carcasses. 
 
 But it is ten times worse when princes are 
 
 Like carcasses for vultures. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Dervish ! not sol 
 
 O not so, 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 'Tis well for you to say 
 It is not so ! — Tell me, what would you give 
 To buy my office from me "? 
 

 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 23 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I must hear 
 First what your office brings you in. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 To me % 
 Not much. But you it would enrich. For when 
 The treasury is empty — as it is 
 So often — you have but to open wide 
 The floodgates of your wealth, let it rush m r 
 And take such interest on it as you will. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And on the interest of the interest ? 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Yesi: 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Until my capital itself becomes 
 Nothing but interest. 
 
 dervish . 
 That does not please you 1 Then 
 Our friendship's at an end ! I had indeed 
 Counted upon your aid r 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 My aid ? How so ? 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 I thought that you would help me to fulfil 
 My task with honor; that your coffers would 
 Be always open to me. — You refuse ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Now let us understand each other ! Here 
 There's a distinction to be made. — For you, 
 The dervish Hafi, I would gladly do 
 All that I could. — But for the defterdar 
 Of Saladin, for that Al-Hafi— him— 
 
24 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Did I not guess it? You are still as kind 
 As you are wise and prudent ! — Only yet 
 Have patience ! for the two Al-Hafis shall 
 Be parted soon. — Look at this robe of state 
 Given me by the Sultan ! Long before 
 It falls in rags such as a dervish wears, 
 'Twill hang here in Jerusalem, while I 
 Tread the hot sand barefoot and light of heart 
 With my teachers on the Ganges. 
 
 Like enough ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 DERVISH. 
 
 And play chess with them. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Your supreme delight ! 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Think what beguiled me ! — Was it that I might 
 
 Myself no longer beg ? that I might play 
 
 The rich man among beggars ? Could that change 
 
 The richest beggar in a moment to 
 
 A poor rich man ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Surely it was not that ! 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 But something far more commonplace ! I felt 
 The power of flattery for the first time, felt 
 Its influence in the Sultan's generous yet 
 Delusive words — 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Which were 
 

 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 25 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 That none can know, 
 Except a beggar, how a beggar feels; 
 None but a beggar has learnt how to give 
 To beggars kindly. "Your predecessor was 
 Too cold," he said, "too harsh; and when he gave 
 He gave so grudgingly, must be informed 
 So closely in regard to those who asked 
 For succor. Not content to know the want, 
 He would know also what had caused it, that 
 The gift might be apportioned sparingly 
 According to the cause. Such will not be 
 Al-Hafi ! Saladin will not in him 
 Seem so unkindly kind ! He is not like 
 The choked reed that in fitful troubled streams 
 Gives out the clear still waters it received. 
 Al-Hafi thinks and feels as I do !" — So 
 The fowler sweetly piped until the bird 
 "Was in the net at last. — Fool that I was t 
 Duped by a dupe ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Gently, gently, my friend! 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 What ! — Then it was not folly to oppress, 
 To burden, plunder, torture, and destroy 
 Hundreds of thousands, only to appear 
 The benefactor of a few ? to ape 
 The Most High in His bounty, which descends 
 In sunshine and in rain alike upon 
 The fruitful field and desert plain, upon 
 The just and unjust, and yet not to have 
 The ever full hand of the Most High ? What ! 
 It was not folly too . . . 
 
26 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Enough ! have done ! 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 Let me but speak of my own folly! — What! 
 It was not folly to look only on 
 The good side of such folly, that I might 
 Take part in it because of that good side ? 
 That was not folly ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Get you quickly back, 
 Al-Hafi, to your desert; for I fear 
 Among your fellow-men you will soon cease 
 To be a man. 
 
 DERVISH. 
 
 I fear the same. Farewell ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But why so hasty? — Will the desert fly 
 Before you reach it? — Wait, Al-Hafi, wait ! — 
 If he would but listen ! — Ho, Al-Hafi ! here ! — 
 He's gone, and I had hoped from him to learn 
 Something of our Templar, whom perhaps 
 He knows. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Data entering hastily, Nathan. 
 
 DATA. 
 
 O Nathan, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well, what now ? 
 
 DATA. 
 
 He has appeared ! He has appeared again ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who, Daya ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 27 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 He! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 When does not "he" appear ? — 
 Or is your "he" the only one so called ? — 
 That should not be ! no, should not, even though 
 He were an angel ! 
 
 DAY A. 
 
 Back and forth he walks 
 Under the palm-trees, and from time to time 
 He gathers dateSr 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And eats them ?- 
 
 and is still 
 
 A Templar ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Why torment me ? — She had guessed 
 His presence while the thickly clustering palms 
 Yet hid him from her, and her eager eyes 
 Follow him without ceasing. She entreats — 
 Implores— that you will go to him at once. 
 O hasten ! From her window she will make 
 Some sign to show you whether he has gone - 
 Still higher, or turned off upon the way, 
 O hasten ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Just as I dismounted from 
 My camel ? — Is that fitting ? — Rather go 
 Yourself and tell him that I have returned. 
 For though while I was absent from my house 
 He would not enter it, this honest man, 
 He will not be unwilling when he hears 
 That Recha's father has sent for him. So go, 
 Say that I beg . . . 
 
2S 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DATA. 
 
 He will not come to you. — 
 He will not cross the threshold of a Jew. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 At last detain him, or keep watch upon 
 
 His movements. — Go, and I'll be with you soon. 
 
 (Nathan hastens in and Data out.) 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 An open place with palm-trees under which the Templar is 
 walking up and down. A lay-brother follows him at a little 
 distance on one side as if wishing to speak to him. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 He is not here without a purpose! — See 
 
 What a sidelong look he casts upon my hands ! — 
 
 Good brother, . . . or is it father I should say ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Only brother, — only lay-brother, at 
 Your service. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Truly, good brother, if I had 
 Something myself ! but I have nothing— 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yet 
 
 I thank you ! God return a thousandfold 
 
 What you would have given ! 'Tis the will, and not 
 
 The gift that makes the giver. — Neither was 
 
 I sent to ask for alms. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Then you were sent ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yes, from the the monastery there below. 
 
 , 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 29 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Where I hoped just now to find a pilgrim's meal? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The board was filled; come back again with me. 
 
 TEMPLAE. 
 
 For what ? What does it matter that 'tis long 
 Since I have tasted meat ? The dates are ripe. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Take heed in eating of that fruit. For if 
 Enjoyed too freely, it obstructs the spleen, 
 Makes melancholy blood. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What if I am 
 Disposed, though, to be melancholy now ? — 
 'Twas not to give this warning you were sent ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 O no ! — I was to question you, find out 
 Something about you, sound you as it were. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And yet you tell me so yourself ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Why not? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 (A crafty brother !) — Does the cloister hold 
 Many more who are like you? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 How can I say ? 
 I must obey, kind sir. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And here you have 
 Obeyed and have not reasoned ? 
 
30 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 LAY-BROTHEK. 
 
 Would it have been 
 Obedience otherwise ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 (How true it is, 
 Simplicity is always in the right !) — 
 But you may tell me who it is would know 
 More of me ? — I could swear 'tis not yourself. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Would it become me ? would it profit me ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Whom would it then become and profit, that 
 He is so curious ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The Patriarch, I suppose. — 
 For it was he who bade me follow you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 It was the Patriarch ? Can it be that he 
 Knows the red cross on the white mantle yet 
 No better? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I know it ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Well, brother, well: — I am 
 A Templar, and a captive. — I may add: 
 Taken at Tebnin when we thought to storm 
 That stronghold on the last day of the truce 
 And make our way to Sidon. — I may add: 
 Taken with twenty more; but I alone 
 Was spared by Saladin. The Patriarch knows 
 Now all he needs to know — more than he needs. 
 

 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 31 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 But hardly more than he already knew. — 
 He would ask also why the Sultan spared 
 You, and you only. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Do I know myself ? 
 I knelt upon my mantle, with bared neck 
 Waiting the stroke: then Saladin drew near, 
 Looked at me closely, signed to those around 
 To raise me up. I was unbound; I wished 
 To thank him; saw his eyes were filled with tears; 
 Stood speechless: till without a word he turned 
 And left me. — Let the Patriarch now declare 
 The meaning of this riddle. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER, 
 
 He concludes 
 That God must have preserved you by such means 
 For great, great things. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes, for great things indeed ! 
 To save a Jewish maiden from the flames; 
 To lead a band of curious pilgrims on 
 The road to Sinai, and some trifles more 
 Of- the same sort. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Be sure the rest will come 
 All in good time. — Meanwhile 'tis not amiss. — 
 Perhaps the Patriarch himself may have 
 Some far more weighty task to offer you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You think so, brother ? — Has he let you hear 
 Something of this? 
 
32 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yes, truly ! — I was first 
 To sound you, to find out if you would be 
 The right man for it. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Sound me then ! — (I'll see 
 How he will sound me !) — Well ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The shortest way 
 Would be at once to tell you what it is 
 The Patriarch wishes. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Surely ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 He would Jike 
 To send a letter by you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What, by me ? 
 I am no messenger. — And this would be 
 So much more glorious than to save the life 
 Of a Jewish maid ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 It must be ! For — so says 
 The Patriarch — on this letter hangs the fate 
 Of Christendom. God will hereafter give 
 In Heaven — the Patriarch says — a special crown 
 To him who shall deliver it. And none — 
 The Patriarch says — is worthier than yourself 
 To wear that crown. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 None worthier than I ? 
 
 i 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 33 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 For none could be more skilled — the Patriarch says — 
 That crown to merit. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 None more skilled than I ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You are free here; can look about you; know 
 How to storm cities, how defend them; can 
 Appraise — the Patriarch says — at once the strength 
 And weakness of the inner wall just built 
 By Saladin; can best describe it too 
 To those who fight for God. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 If I could learn, 
 Good brother, what is in the letter 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 That 
 I hardly know. 'Tis to King Philip though. 
 The Patriarch . . . Often have I wondered how 
 A man so holy, one whose thoughts are given 
 To heavenly contemplation, should be yet 
 So well instructed also in regard 
 To things of earth. It must go hard with him. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Well then ? the Patriarch ?— 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Knows most surely, most 
 Undoubtedly, both how and where, and with 
 How large a force, and from what side, if now 
 War should break out again, the Sultan will 
 First take the field. 
 
34 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The Patriarch knows all this ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yes, and would gladly send King Philip word, 
 That he may measure to its full extent 
 The danger, and judge whether it were well 
 To seek renewal, at whatever cost, 
 Of the truce brought so lately to a close 
 By your brave Order. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What a Patriarch! So 
 The kind, good, worthy man would have me for 
 No common messenger; he needs — a spy. — 
 Good brother, tell your Patriarch that so far 
 As you could sound me, I am not the one 
 To serve his purpose. — I must hold myself 
 As still a captive; and a Templar's trade 
 Is to strike boldly with his sword, and not 
 To play the spy. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Just as I thought ! — Nor do 
 I blame you for it — What is best comes last. — 
 The Patriarch has found out upon what part 
 Of Lebanon the fortress lies in which 
 The Sultan has concealed great sums of gold, 
 Kept by his father's foresight to supply * 
 The war's expenditure. From time to time, 
 With few attendants, and by paths that are 
 Frequented least, he journeys to this place. — 
 You see it now ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not in the least ! 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 .55 
 
 ,< 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 What then 
 Could well be easier than at such a time 
 To seize the Sultan ? put an end to him ? — 
 You start? — Oh, two God-fearing Maronites 
 Have offered, if some valiant man will lead 
 The way, to venture on the deed.. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And does 
 The Patriarch take me for this valiant man ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 He thinks King Philip could from Ptolemais 
 Best aid your enterprise. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Mine, brother? mine? 
 Mine, did you say ? Have you not heard, just heard, 
 What debt I owe the Sultan ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yes, I have heard. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And yet. . . 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 All well and good, — the Patriarch says — 
 But God and your Order. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Can change nothing here I 
 Command no wickedness ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHERS 
 
 No, surely not ! — 
 But what is wicked in man's sight may not — 
 The Patriarch says — be wicked in the sight 
 Of God. 
 
36 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 I owe my life to Saladin: 
 And shall I take his ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER, 
 
 Saladin is still 
 A foe to Christendom, — the Patriarch says — 
 And can acquire no right to be your friend. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 My friend ? because I will not act the part 
 Of a base thankless villain ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yet in truth 
 We are free from all claims of gratitude, — 
 The Patriarch says — free before God and man, 
 If what is done for us has not been done 
 For our own sake alone. And it is said 
 That for this reason only you were spared 
 By Saladin, because he saw in you 
 A likeness to his brother, 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The Patriarch knows 
 That too, and yet ? — If it were so indeed ! 
 Ah, Saladin ! — Could nature have bestowed 
 Only some feature of thy brother's face 
 With nothing answering to it in my soul ? 
 And that which answered, could I silence it 
 At the good pleasure of a Patriarch ? — * 
 Nature, thou dost not lie so ! Nor does God 
 In His own works so contradict Himself ! — 
 Go, brother ! — Do not stir my wrath ! — Go ! go ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I go content, more so than when I came. 
 We cloister-brethren have but to obey. 
 

 Scene VL 
 
 The templar, and data, who has been watching him for 
 some time at a distance and now comes forward. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 The cloister-brother has not left him in 
 The best of humors, so it seems to me. — 
 Yet my errand cannot be delayed. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 'Tis well ! 
 Does not the proverb speak truth when it says 
 A monk, a woman are the two claws of 
 The Devil? And to-day he casts me from 
 The one into the other. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 What do I see 1 
 You, noble knight ? you ? Thanks be to God ! 
 A thousand thanks ! — Where have you been so long ? 
 You were not sick ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 No. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 You were well then ? 
 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Your absence has greatly troubled us. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Indeed ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 You were upon a journey ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Eight ! 
 
38 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 And have 
 
 Keturned today ? 
 
 TEMPLAE. 
 
 Yesterday. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Today 
 'Tis Recha's father who has come. And now 
 Recha may surely hope . . . 
 
 TEMPLAE. 
 
 For what ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 For that 
 Which she so often has entreated you 
 To grant. Her father now himself has sent 
 To summon you. He comes from Babylon 
 With twenty camels bearing heavy loads 
 Of the most costly spices, stones, and stuffs 
 That India, Persia, Syria, China too 
 Could furnish. 
 
 TEMPLAE. 
 
 Of such things I have no need. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 By his own people he is honored as 
 
 A prince. And yet they call him, strange to say, 
 
 Nathan the Wise, and not the Rich. 
 
 TEMPLAE. 
 
 To them 
 Perhaps may rich and wise both mean the same. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 But above all he should be called the Good. 
 For you can scarce conceive how good he is. 
 When he heard how much Recha owed to you, 
 
 i 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 39 
 
 What at that moment would he not have done, 
 What would he not have given in return ! 
 
 
 You think so % 
 
 TEMPLAK. 
 DAYA. 
 
 Try it ! come and see \ 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 See what ? 
 How soon such moments pass ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 If he were not 
 So good, could I have chosen to remain 
 So long with him ? You think I do not feel 
 My value as a Christian ? In my youth 
 It never was foretold me I should come 
 After my husband to the Holy Land 
 Only to take charge of a Jewish maid. 
 For my dear husband was an equerry 
 In Emperor Frederick's army. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And by birth 
 A Swiss, who had the honor granted him 
 Of drowning in the same stream with his lord. 
 Woman, how many times you've told me that ! 
 When will you cease to persecute me ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 What, 
 
 I persecute you 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes, yes, persecute . 
 I never wish to see you, never wish 
 To hear from you again ! I will not be 
 
40 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 So constantly reminded of a thing 
 
 That I did without thinking, that when now 
 
 I think of it I wonder why I did. 
 
 And though I would not indeed repent of it, 
 
 Yet see ! if it were to happen so once more, 
 
 The fault would be your own if I should act 
 
 Less rashly, ask some questions beforehand — 
 
 And let what is burning burn. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 May God forbid ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Do me the favor from this day forth not 
 
 To know me. This at least I beg of you. 
 
 Spare me the father too. A Jew's a Jew. 
 
 I'm a rough Suabian. From my soul long since 
 
 The maiden's image vanished, if it dwelt 
 
 There ever. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 But yours still remains in hers. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What does it there ? what does it ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Men are not always what they seem to be. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yet are seldom better than they seem. 
 
 {He turns away.) 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Ostay! 
 Why will you hasten from me ? 
 
TEMPLAR» 
 
 Do not make 
 These palm-trees hateful, woman, where I once 
 So loved to linger. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Go, thou German bear ! 
 Go ! — But I must not lose him from my sight. 
 
 (She follows him at a distance.) 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 The Sultan's palace saladin and sittah playing chess, 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How you are playing, Saladin, to-day I 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Not well ? And yet I thought 'twas welL 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 For me; 
 Though hardly even that. Take back that move. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why take it back ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Your knight's in danger. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 True.— 
 
 So, then! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 So I now threaten you at once 
 With queen and bishop. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 True again. — Then check I 
 
42 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How does that help you ? For I guard myself, 
 And you are where you were. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 There's no escape 
 From this dilemma without loss, I see. 
 So be it I take the knight. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 I will not. Look, 
 I pass by. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 No great favor, since you care 
 More for this place than for the knight. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Perhaps. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But do not reckon here without your host. 
 
 For see ! Can you not think what I would say ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How can I ? How too could I think you were 
 So weary of your queen? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I of my queen ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 'Tis plain already, I shall win to-day 
 Only my thousand dinars, nothing more. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why not ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Because you labor so to lose, 
 Are bent on losing, if need be by force. — 
 And that I did not count on. For besides 
 That such a game lacks interest, have I not 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 43 
 
 Ever when I have lost won most from you ? 
 Do you not then to comfort me bestow 
 Double the stake upon me ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 So perhaps 
 You also, little sister, when you lost, 
 Labored to lose ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 It may have been, at least, 
 Your kindness, brother, that prevented me 
 From learning to play better. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 We neglect 
 The game. Let us end it I 
 
 And check again ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 As it stands ? Then check ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 This final check that takes 
 My queen too from me I had not foreseen. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 May it not be helped ? Let us see ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 No, take the queen. 
 I never had good fortune with that piece. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 "With the piece only ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Off with it I — I care 
 No more for it. All is again secured. 
 
44 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 My brother has instructed me too well 
 How to deal courteously with queens. 
 
 (She leaves the queen standing.) 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Take it or leave it ! 'Tis no longer mine» 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Why should I take it ? Check !— check ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Go on! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Check ! — and cheek ! — and check I 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Checkmate ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not quite: 
 Bring your knight forward, or do what you will. 
 It matters little. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Eight ! — You have won, and now 
 Al-Hafi pays. Let him be quickly called ! — 
 You were not, Sittah, in the wrong; my thoughts 
 Were not upon the game. And then these smooth 
 And polished pieces, what are they to us ? 
 They stand for nothing, have no meaning. — But 
 The loser seeks a pretext. It was not - 
 The shapeless pieces, Sittah, made me lose: 
 Your skill, your calm, swift glance . . . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 So from defeat 
 Now too you would but pluck the sting. Enough, 
 Your thoughts had wandered, even more than mine. 
 
SALADIN. 
 
 Than yours? What made yours wander? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not indeed 
 Your absent-mindedness ! — O Saladin, 
 When shall we play again as often ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Well, 
 Let us play while we may ! —Because the war 
 Will now begin again ? — Let it begin ! — 
 The sooner too the better ! — I was not 
 The first to draw the sword; I would have had 
 The truce renewed; would gladly have bestowed 
 My Sittah on a husband worthy of 
 Herself. Such must be Richard's brother, since 
 He is his brother. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How you love to praise 
 Your Richard ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 If our brother Melek had 
 Then wedded Richard's sister : ha ! that would 
 Have been a household ! Ha ! the first, the best 
 Of all that's best and noblest upon earth ! — 
 You hear, I am not slow to praise myself. 
 I think I'm worthy of my friend. — And then, 
 Then would the world have seen a race of men ! 
 
 SITTAH, 
 
 Did I not laugh the dream at once to scorn ? 
 You do not, will not know these Christians. All 
 Their pride is to be Christians, and not men. 
 Even that which by their founder was designed 
 To leaven with humanity the mass 
 
46 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 Of superstition, even that they love 
 Not for this reason, that it is humane: 
 Because Christ teaches, Christ has practised it. — 
 Well for them that he was so good a man ! 
 Well for them that they have such trust in him 
 And in his goodness ! — Yet what goodness? — Not 
 His goodness but his name they spread abroad; 
 "Tis that must put to shame and swallow up 
 The names of all good men. It is the name, 
 The name alone they think of. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 For why else 
 Should you and Melek have been called upon 
 To bear the name of Christiaus, or renounce 
 The wedded love of Christians ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 'Tis 'as if 
 By Christians as such only could be felt 
 
 That love which is implanted in the heart 
 
 Of man and woman by their Maker ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 True, 
 They have believed so many foolish things, 
 These Christians, it may well be they believe 
 This also ! — But you are mistaken here. — 
 The Templars, not the Christians, are to blame, 
 And that as Templars, not as Christians, for 
 The failure of the whole. They will not part 
 With Acre, which to Melek would be brought 
 By Bichard's sister as her dower. Lest 
 The knight should suffer loss, they have put on 
 The monk, the silly monk. And hoping too 
 By a bold stroke perhaps to win the day, 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 47 
 
 They could not wait the closing of the truce. — 
 Let them come on! the more the merrier ! — 
 If all beside were but as it should be ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What else is wrong ? What else has troubled you ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Something that always troubled me. — I've been 
 With our father upon Lebanon. 
 He is full of care . . . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Alas ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 He can no more; 
 On every side it fails him; everywhere 
 'Tis lacking, now in this place, now in that — 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What fails him ? what is lacking ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What, indeed, 
 But that I scarce vouchsafe to call by name ? 
 What, when I have it, is superfluous, 
 And when I have not, indispensable. — 
 Where can Al-Hafi be ? Has no one gone 
 To call him ? — Gold, the vile accursed thing ! — 
 At last, Al-Hafi, you have come ! 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 The dervish a.l-hafi, saladin, sittah. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 So then 
 The subsidy from Egypt has arrived ? 
 If it be but enough ! 
 
4 8 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What, you have news ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Not I. I thought to find it here. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Pay out 
 A thousand dinars now to Sittah. 
 
 {He walks up and down absorbed in thought.) 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Pay! 
 
 Instead of: take! Why that is even less 
 Than nothing ! — And to Sittah ? — now again 
 To Sittah ? And 'twas lost ? — 'twas lost again 
 At chess ? — There it is standing still, the game ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 You grudge me my good fortune ? 
 
 AL-HAFi (looking at the board). 
 Grudge you what ? 
 If — But you surely know . . . 
 
 sittah (signing to him), 
 Hist,Hafi! hist! 
 
 AL-HAFi (to Sittah). 
 You grudge it rather to yourself ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Al-Hafi, hist ! 
 
 AL-HAFi (to Sittah). 
 Were the white pieces yours ? You ofiered check ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 'Tis well he did not hear ! 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Does he move next ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 49 
 
 siTTAH {going up nearer to him). 
 Tell me that I shall have my money. 
 
 al-ha.fi (still looking intently at the board). 
 Yes, 
 You'll have it as you always have it. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How, 
 
 Al-Hafi, are you mad ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 The game is not 
 Yet ended. Saladin, you have not lost. 
 
 saladin (scarcely listening). 
 Pay ! only pay ! 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Pay ! pay ! There stands your queen. 
 
 saladin (in the same way). 
 She counts for nothing, is not in the game; 
 
 siTTAH (to Al-Hafi). 
 Tell me that I may send for it. 
 
 al-hafi (still gazing at the board). 
 Of course, 
 The same as ever. — Even though your queen 
 Should count for nothing, you are not even then 
 Checkmated yet. 
 
 saladin (going up to the board and 
 throwing it down). 
 I am, I will be. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 So 
 
 'Tis with the game as with the stake ! As that 
 Is won, so this is paid. 
 
5o 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SALADIN (to SlTTAH). 
 
 What does he say ? 
 sittah (from time to time signing 
 
 tO AL-HAFl) 
 
 You know him; know he loves to wrangle, loves 
 To be entreated; is indeed, perhaps, 
 A little envious. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Surely not of you ? 
 Not of my sister ? What is this I hear, 
 Al-Hafi? Envious? you? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 It may be so ! — 
 I wish I had her head; I wish I had 
 A heart like hers. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Meanwhile he has not failed 
 To pay me, and will pay to-day. — Go now, 
 Al-Hafi, go, that I may send at once. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 No, I'll no longer help you to keep up 
 This mummery. He must know it. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who? and what? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Is this your promise, Han? this the way - 
 You keep faith with me ? 
 
 So far? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Could I think 'twould go 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You'll tell me nothing ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 5* 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Be discreet, 
 
 Al-Hafi, I beseech you ! 
 
 SALADIN, 
 
 What is this 
 That Sittah has to beg so solemnly, 
 So urgently, and from a stranger, from 
 A dervish rather than her brother ? Now, 
 Al-Hafi, I command you. — Dervish, speak I 
 
 SITTAH» 
 
 Do not take a trifle, brother, more to heart 
 Than it is worth. You know I've won at chess 
 The same amount from you at different times ' 
 And since I have no need of money, since 
 It has not been too plentiful of late 
 In Han's treasury, the stakes were left 
 Uncalled for until now. But do not fear t 
 They shall be given neither to yourself, 
 Nor Hafi, nor the treasury. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 If thai 
 
 Were only all ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 There's more of the same kind. 
 What you have set apart for me has been 
 Unclaimed, for a few months unclaimed. 
 
 AL-HAFIa 
 
 'Tis not 
 
 Even yet the whole. 
 
 SALADIN^ 
 
 Not yet ? — Will you not speak ? 
 
52 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Since we have looked for succor to arrive 
 From Egypt . . . 
 
 SITTAH (to SALADIN). 
 
 Why listen to him ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Sittah has 
 Not only received nothing. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But besides 
 Has lent me money. Is it not so ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 She has 
 Maintained your court; furnished the whole amount 
 Expended by you. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ha ! that is like her ! 
 
 {embracing her.) 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Who 
 But you, my brother, made me rich enough 
 To be so generous ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 He will make you soon 
 As poor again as he himself is. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Poor? 
 Her brother poor ? — When had I more ? When 
 
 less ?— 
 A cloak, a sword, a horse, — a God ! What else 
 Do I need ? When can I want for these ? And yet, 
 A] -Han, I could quarrel with you. 
 

 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 53 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 No, 
 Do not quarrel with him, brother. If I could 
 But lighten too my father's cares I 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah, now 
 You cast me down again ! — I for myself 
 Lack nothing, can lack nothing. But he lacks, 
 He is in want, and all of us with him. — 
 What shall I do ? — It may be long before 
 Help comes from Egypt. What has kept it back 
 God knows ! All's quiet there as yet. — To save, 
 Retrench, lay up, that I would gladly do 
 If I alone must suffer, I alone 
 And none beside. — But what would it avail ? 
 A horse, a cloak, a sword I still must have : 
 And from my God there's nothing to abate, 
 Since He contents Himself already with 
 So little, with my heart. — I had in truth 
 Counted, Al-Hafi, on a surplus in 
 Your treasury. 
 
 al-ha.fi. 
 A surplus ? — Say yourself, 
 Would you not have empaled me, or at least 
 Have had me hanged if you had found me with 
 A surplus ? A deficiency ! that might 
 Be ventured sooner. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What is to be done? 
 Was there no other you could borrow from 
 Instead of Sit ah ? 
 
54 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Would I let that right 
 Be taken from me, brother ? and by him ? 
 I still must claim it, for I am not yet 
 Quite without means. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Only not quite ! 'Twas this 
 Alone was wanting ! — Go, Al-Hafi, take 
 From any one you can ! and as you can I 
 Go, borrow, promise. — Only, Hafi, not 
 From those I have made rich. To ask of them 
 Would be to take back what I gave them. Go 
 To the most avaricious; they will lend 
 Most gladly, seeing that their gold with me 
 Will gain great increase. 
 
 al-hafi. 
 
 I know none of those. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Now, Hafi, that I think of it, I heard 
 Your friend had just returned. 
 
 al-hafi (starting). 
 
 My friend ? what friend 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 The Jew you praised so highly. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 I? a Jew? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 To whom — for I recall the very words 
 You used in speaking of him once — to whom 
 His God has given in full measure both 
 The least and greatest of the good things of 
 This world. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 55 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 I said so ? — What could I have meant ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 The least thing, wealth. The greatest, wisdom. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 How? 
 'Twas of a Jew I said it ? of a Jew ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Could you not say it of your Nathan ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Yes! 
 
 Of him I could ! of him ! —I had not thought 
 
 Of Nathan. — So he has returned ? — 'Tis true 
 
 He has some wealth. — Quite true: the people once 
 
 Called him the Wise ! They called him too the Eich. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Now more than ever he is called the Rich, 
 For the whole city rings with the report 
 Of costly jewels and rare merchandise 
 Brought by him. i ,_ ;., , 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 'Tis again the Rich: 'twill be 
 
 Again the Wise. 
 
 To him ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How, Hafi, if you went 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 For what ? To borrow money ? Yes, 
 You know him well. — He lend ! — His wisdom is 
 He lends to no one. 
 
56 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 'Twas far otherwise, 
 
 Al-Hafi, you once spoke of him. 
 
 AL-HAFL 
 
 At most 
 He'll sell you goods on credit if need be. 
 But lend you money ? that he'll never do. — 
 Yet he's a Jew like few beside: has wit; 
 Knows something of the world; can play chess well. 
 But he's distinguished above other Jews 
 Not less in evil than in good. — On him 
 'Tis vain for you to count. — He gives, indeed, 
 Alms to the poor; and gives perhaps for this, 
 To outdo Saladin: though it may be 
 Not quite so much, yet just as willingly, 
 As unobtrusively. Christian and Jew 
 And Mussulman and Parsee, 'tis to him 
 All one. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 And such a man. . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 How is it that 
 
 I have not heard of him ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 He would not lend 
 To Saladin ? to Saladin, who needs 
 Only for others, not himself ? 
 
 al-hafi . 
 
 Ah, there 
 You have the Jew again, the common Jew ! — 
 
 He is so jealous in his giving, is 
 So envious ! Each reward of God bestowed 
 In the world he'd seize on for himself alone. 
 He will not lend that he may have to give. 
 

 The Law commands him to be merciful* 
 
 Nowhere commands him to comply with all 
 
 That others ask of him: 'tis mercy then 
 
 Has made him uncomplying. Though we've been 
 
 Somewhat estranged of late, think not for that 
 
 I have not done him justice. In all else 
 
 He'll gladly do you service; but in this 
 
 He will not. I'll go knock at other doors. . . 
 
 I have bethought me of a Moor who's rich 
 
 And avaricious. . . 
 
 Al-Hafi? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 But what need of haste, 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Let him go ! 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 SALADIN. SITTAH. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Did he not seem 
 As if he would escape me ! What does this mean?- 
 Has he been himself deceived, or is it that 
 He would deceive us ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why do you ask me ? 
 I never heard of him until to-day, 
 Your Jew, your Nathan, and scarce know even now 
 Of whom you speak. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How can it be you know 
 So little of a man of whom 'tis said 
 That he has found the graves of Solomon 
 
5§ 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 And David, and has power to loose their seals 
 By a mighty hidden word, and bring to light 
 Wealth so enormous that no meaner source 
 Could have supplied it ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 If his wealth is drawn 
 From graves, 'tis not from those of Solomon 
 And David. Fools lie buried there. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Or knaves ! — 
 The source of this man's riches is in truth 
 Far more productive, more unfailing than 
 A grave, though filled with mammon. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 For he is 
 A merchant, as I hear. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 His camels pass 
 On every highway, every desert, while 
 His ships are moored in every harbor. 'Twas 
 Al-Hafi who first told me this, told too 
 In what a noble generous way his friend 
 Spent what he thought it not beneath him thus 
 By diligent toil to earn. With what delight 
 He told how free from prejudice his mind; 
 His heart how open to all virtue, how 
 In unison with all beauty ! 
 
 SALADIN . 
 
 Yet but now 
 Al-Hafi spoke with such uncertainty, 
 
 Such coldness of him. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 59 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not with coldness, with 
 Confusion 'Twas as if he feared to praise, 
 Yet would not blame him undeservedly. — 
 Or how ? can it be indeed that even this man, 
 The best of his people, is not wholly free 
 From their defects ? that Al-Hafi has indeed 
 Reason to blush for him in this respect ? — 
 Be that as it may ! — Be the Jew more or less 
 Of a Jew; if he's but rich, enough for us ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You would not take his own from him by force ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What is it you call force ? With fire and sword ? 
 No, no ; with the weak what need of any force 
 But that of their own weakness ? — Come with me 
 To my harem; I would have you hear the voice 
 Of a female-singer I bought yesterday« 
 Meanwhile a plan may ripen that I've formed 
 Against this Nathan. — Come ! 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 In front of Nathan's house on the side towards the palm- 
 trees, eecha and nathan come out. daya joins them soon 
 after. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You have staid too long, 
 My father. You will hardly find him now. 
 
 NATHAN . 
 
 If he's not here, not here beneath the palms, 
 
 Yet elsewhere I'll soon find him.— Have no fear! — 
 
 See, is not Daya coming ? 
 
6o NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 All trace of him. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 She has lost 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Perhaps not. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 She would come 
 More quickly if she had not. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 It may be 
 She has not seen us yet. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 She sees us now. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And hastens towards us. — But be calm ! be calm! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Would you then have a daughter who could be 
 Unmoved at such a moment ? have no care 
 Who saved her life ? — a life so dear to her 
 Only because she owed it first to you . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I would not have you other than you are, 
 
 Even though I know that in your soul now stirs 
 
 Something far different. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 What, my father? what? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You ask me that ? ask it so anxiously ? 
 
 What is now taking place within you is 
 
 But nature and innocence. Let it cause you then 
 
 No fear. To me, to mp it causes none. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 61 
 
 Yet promise, if your heart some day should speak 
 More plainly, you will not conceal from me 
 Its lightest wish. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I tremble at the thought 
 That I could ever hide my heart from you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 No more of this ! 'Tis settled once for all. — 
 And here is Daya. — Well ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 He's walking still 
 Under the palm-trees; you'll soon see him pass 
 Beyond that wall. — Look, there he comes ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And seems 
 Uncertain whether to direct his steps 
 Backward? or forward? to the right ? or left? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 No, no; his custom is most frequently 
 To take the monastery-path, which leads 
 This way. — See ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You are right. — Have you met him yet ? 
 Have you spoken to him ? How is he to-day ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 The same. 
 
 NATHAN 
 
 Then do not let him find you here. 
 Stand farther back, or rather go within. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Bat one more look, my father ! — Ah, the hedge ! 
 It steals him from me. 
 
62 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DATA. 
 
 Come, your father's in 
 The rightl He might turn back upon the spot 
 If he should see you. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah, the hedge ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And if 
 He comes out suddenly, he cannot fail 
 To see you. Therefore go within ! 
 
 DATA. 
 
 Come ! Come ! 
 I know a window where we may watch them . . „ 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Yes? 
 
 {They both go in.) 
 
 Scene V. 
 nathan and the templar. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I almost fear to meet him, almost feel 
 Abashed by his rugged virtue. Strange, indeed, 
 That any human being should have power 
 So to impress another ! Ha ! he comes ! — 
 By Heaven ! a manly youth. I like him, like 
 His kindly though defiant glance ! his quick 
 Firm step ! 'Tis but the outer shell that is 
 So bitter, not the kernel. — Where before 
 Have I seen such another ? Noble Frank, 
 Forgive me. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 63 
 
 To. speak to you. 
 
 Be brief. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Allow me. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What, Jew ? what ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Can I prevent it ? But 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Stay, I implore you; do not turn 
 So proudly, so contemptuously from a man 
 Whom you have bound to you for ever. 
 
 TEMPLAR.- 
 
 How? 
 
 Ah, I can almost guess it ! Are you not . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I am the father of the maiden whom 
 
 You saved; my name is Nathan, and I come. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 If 'tis to thank me, — spare me that ! I've had 
 
 Too many thanks already to endure 
 
 For such a trifling service. — As for you, 
 
 You surely owe me nothing. Did I know 
 
 She was your daughter ? 'Tis a Templar's place 
 
 To hasten to the aid of all who are 
 
 In danger and distress. My life beside 
 
 Was at that moment burdensome to me,. 
 
 And willingly, most willingly I seized 
 
 The first occasion for another life 
 
 To cast it in the balance, — even though 
 
 'Twas but for the life of a Jewess. 
 
64 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Great I 
 Great and repulsive^— -Yet the meaning is 
 Not far to look for. Modest greatness seeks 
 Behind what is repulsive to escape 
 The admiration it would shun. — But if 
 The meed of admiration be despised, 
 Is there no other you would less despise ? — 
 You are a stranger here, a captive, else 
 I would not question you so boldly. Speak, 
 Command me, noble Knight: what can I do 
 To serve you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You can do nothing. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I am rich. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The richer Jew has never been to me 
 The better Jew. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Should you because of that 
 Not use the best that he has? not use his wealth? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I will not utterly forswear it; no, 
 
 For the sake of my mantle I will not. As soon 
 
 As that is threadbare, neither stitch nor rag 
 
 Holding together longer, then I'll come 
 
 And ask to borrow from you stuff to make 
 
 Or gold to buy a new one. — Do not look 
 
 All at once so downcast ! You are still secure. 
 
 See, 'tis in good condition yet. Though here 
 
 In this corner there's a spot where it was scorched 
 
 When I bore your daughter through the flames. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 65 
 
 Nathan (seizing the mantle and gazing at the spot). 
 
 'Tis strange 
 That such an evil-looking spot as this 
 Should witness more in favor of a man 
 Than his own lips. How I long to kiss that spot I 
 Ah, pardon me ! — I could not help it. 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 What? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A tear fell on it. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 It can do no harm !'. 
 'Tis but one drop the more. — (Almost has 
 This Jew begun to move me.) 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Will you not send 
 Your mantle to my daughter, that she too 
 May press her lips upon this spot, since now 
 She must hope in vain to fall herself at your feet? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 But Jew, — Your name is Nathan? — NathaD, then- 
 Your words are so— are so well chosen — so 
 Well put together — Truly — I had thought — 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Disguise yourself, dissemble as you will, 
 
 Here still I find you out. You were too kind, 
 
 Too true to be polite. The maiden was 
 
 All feeling; the messenger she sent to you 
 
 All readiness; the father far away. — 
 
 You cared for her good name; you fled from her; 
 
 Fled that you might not conquer. For this too 
 
 I have to thank you. 
 
66 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I must confess you know 
 How a Templar ought to feel. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How a Templar ought? 
 Only a Templar ? only ought ? and for 
 This reason only, that his Order so 
 Commands? I know how good men feel, I know 
 That in every land there are good men to be found. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 With a difference though, I hope ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 With a difference, yes, 
 In color, dress, appearance. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Also here 
 There are sometimes fewer, sometimes more than 
 there ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 In that respect the difference is but small. 
 
 For great men everywhere have need of space, 
 
 And if too closly planted they obstruct 
 
 Each others' growth. But men of average worth, 
 
 Such as we ourselves are, everywhere abound. 
 
 Only must one not find fault with the rest; 
 
 The gnarled must put up with the knobbed, the stem 
 
 That overtops its fellows must not boast 
 
 That it alone did not shoot up from the earth. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Well said ! And yet what people were the first 
 To practise this fault-finding? were the first 
 To call themselves the chosen people? How 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 V 
 
 It I should indeed not bate this people, ^et 
 
 If I could not but look down upon them for 
 
 Their pride? Their pride, which is now shared with 
 
 them 
 By Mussulman and Christian, that their God 
 Is the only true God ! — Do you start that I, 
 A Christian and a Templar, should so speak? 
 This pious madness, this belief that some 
 Have a better God than others, and must force 
 That better God on the whole world as the best, 
 "When and where has it shown itself in a darker form 
 Than here ? than now ? He whose eyes are here, are 
 
 now 
 Not opened . . . But let him who will be blind I — 
 Forget what I have said, and leave me ! 
 
 (Re turns to go)> 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 HaL 
 
 You know not how much more I shall force myself 
 Upon you. — Come, we must, we must be friends ! — 
 Look down upon my people as you like. 
 We did not choose our people. Are we then 
 Ourselves our people ? What is it that we call 
 Oar people? Christian and Jew, are they rather 
 
 these 
 Than men ? Ah, if in you I should have found 
 One more, content to call himself a man I 
 
 TEMPLAK. 
 
 By Heaven, you have, Nathan! you have!- 
 
 hand ! — 
 I am ashamed even for so short a time 
 To have mistaken you. 
 
 -Your 
 
58 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And I am proud 
 That you should have done so. What is common is 
 Alone mistaken seldom. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And what is rare 
 Can hardly be forgotten. — Nathan, yes; 
 We must, we must be friends. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Rather, are friends 
 Already. — How my Recha will rejoice ! — 
 And ah, how bright the distant prospect now 
 Opening before me ! — Only know her first ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I long to meet her ! — But who rushes there 
 Out of your house ? Is it not Daya ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes, 
 
 'Tis she. So anxious ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Have harmed our Recha? 
 
 Surely nothing can 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 2he preceding, and data entering hastily. 
 DAYA. 
 
 Nathan ! Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Pardon me, noble knight, for breaking in 
 Upon you. 
 
NATHAN, 
 
 What is it? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What is it ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 The Sultan has sent. 
 The Sultan desires to speak to you. God, 
 The Sultan ! 
 
 NATHAN 
 
 To me ? the Sultan ? He must wish 
 To see what I have brought with me. Send word 
 That hardly anything is yet unpacked. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 He would see nothing, he would speak to you, 
 To you in person, and at once. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 M come. — 
 Go now, go ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Do not take it ill, sir Knight ! — 
 O God, we are so troubled ! What can it be 
 The Sultan wishes ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That we'll soon find out. 
 
 Go, only go 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 nathan and the templar. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You do not know him then ?- 
 I mean, have not met him ? 
 
7° 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Saladin ? Not yet. 
 I have neither shunned him nor have I sought him 
 
 out 
 Common report spoke far too well of him 
 For me not rather to believe than see. 
 But now — even if report have spoken false — 
 He has, by sparing you . . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes, that at least 
 Is true. The life I dow live he bestowed. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And so bestowed a double, threefold life 
 On me. This chauges all between us, this 
 For ever binds me to his service. Scarce 
 Can I wait to hear what he will first command. 
 I am prepared for everything, prepared 
 To confess too that I am so for your sake. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I myself could never thank him, often since 
 
 As I have crossed his path. What he felt for me 
 
 Vanished again as quickly as it came. 
 
 "Who knows if he still remembers me ? And yet 
 
 He must remember me once more, if but 
 
 To decide my fate at last. 'Tis not enough 
 
 That at his bidding, in accordance with 
 
 His will, I am yet alive: I must also know 
 
 According to whose will I am to live. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You are right; all the more reason why I should 
 Eemain no longer. — Some chance word may fall 
 That will lead me to speak of you. — Forgive me if 
 I hasten . . . But when will you come to us? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 
 As soon 
 
 
 As I may. 
 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 
 As soon as you will. 
 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 
 To-day then. 
 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 
 And 
 
 
 Your name ? 
 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 
 My name was — is Von Stauffen.- 
 
 -Curd 
 
 Von Stauffen. 
 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Von Stauffen ?— Stauffen ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Why does it seem 
 To strike you so ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Von Stauffen ? — Of that name 
 Several perhaps already have . . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Oyes! 
 Several of that name once lived and now moulder 
 
 here. 
 My uncle himself — my father, I should have said, — 
 But why does your look grow keener as 'tis fixed 
 Upon me ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 O nothing ! nothing ! How can I see 
 Too much of you ? 
 
72 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Therefore I leave you first. 
 The searcher's gaze Dot seldom has found more 
 Than he wished to fiud. I fear it, "Nathan. So 
 Let time by degrees, not curious questioning. 
 
 Make us known to each other. 
 
 {He goes out) 
 
 NATHAN 
 
 {looking after him with amazement) 
 
 "The searcher has 
 Not seldom found more than he wished to find. r — 
 Does it not seem as though he read my soul? — 
 Yes, that may happen to me also. — Not 
 Wolf's height, Wolf's bearing only, but his voice. 
 Just so Wolf threw his head back; so Wolf bore 
 His sword; so passed his hand across his brow 
 As if to hide the fire of his glance. — 
 How such deep-seated memories will remain 
 Slumbering within us till a word, a tone 
 Awakens them! — Von Stauffen! — Right, quite right! 
 Filnek and Stauffen. — I must soon know more 
 About this; soon. Only first to Saladin. — 
 How ? is not Daya watching for me there ? — 
 Come nearer, Daya. 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 DAYA. NATHAN. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What you both most long 
 To know, is not why Saladin has sent. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Can you blame her for it ? You had just begun 
 To speak familiarly together, when 
 The Sultan's message frightened us away 
 From our window. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 73 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Tell her that she may look for him 
 
 At any moment, 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Are you sure of it? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I can trust you, Daya ? Be upon your guard, 
 I beg you. You shall not repent. In this 
 Your conscience too will find its own account. 
 Only spoil nothing I have planned. Eelate 
 And question with discretion, with reserve. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 That you should never until now have thought 
 Of such a thing !— I go; do you go too. 
 For see ! there comes a second messenger 
 From the Sultan. 'Tis your dervish, Hafi. 
 
 (She goes ) 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 NATHAN. AL-HAFI. 
 
 AL-HAFI . 
 
 Ha! 
 
 I was looking for you. 
 
 NATHAN . 
 
 ". Is he in such haste ? 
 What does he want with me? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Who? 
 
 I am coming now . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Saladin. — 
 
AL-HAFI. . 
 
 To whom ? To Saladin ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 It was not Saladin who sent you ? 
 
 Has he already sent ? 
 
 'Tis so, 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 No. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He has. 
 
 AL-HAFI . 
 
 Well, then 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What is so ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 That you. . . I am not to blame; 
 God knows I am not. — What have I not said of you, 
 How have I not belied you that I might 
 Prevent it ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Might prevent what ? What is so ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 That you are now the Sultan's defterdar. 
 
 I pity you ! But I'll not stay here to see . 
 
 I go this hour; I go, whither you've heard 
 
 Already, and know the way. — If there's anything 
 
 You'd have me to deliver for you, speak ! 
 
 I am at your service, if it be no more 
 
 Than what a man stripped of his clothing even 
 
 May carry about with him. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But reflect, 
 Al-Hafi, that you have told me nothiDg yet. 
 What are you talking of ? 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 
 
 75 
 
 Along with you? 
 
 You are to lend hitn. 
 
 AL.-HAFJ. 
 
 You've brought the bags 
 
 K ÄTHAN. 
 
 The bags ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 The money, then, 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And is it nothing more ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Shall I look on and see how day by day 
 
 He drains you to the dregs ? Shall I look on 
 
 While wasteful prodigality draws out 
 
 From the granaries of wise beneficence, 
 
 Never bare before, till the very mice there die 
 
 Of hunger ? — You may hope perhaps that he 
 
 Who needs your money will be ready too 
 
 To follow your advice ? — Has Saladin 
 
 Ever listened to advice ? — Think, Nathan, think 
 
 What happened just now when I was with him! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 When I came to him he had been playing chess 
 With his sister. Sittah does not play so ill; 
 And the game, which Saladin had given up, 
 Was standing as 'twas left. I looked and saw 
 That it was far from being lost. His king 
 Had only to move nearer to the pawn 
 Upon her check ... If I could show you how ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Oh, I can trust you ! 
 
76 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 His rook would have been 
 Set free, and Sittah would have lost. — All this 
 I wished to tell him, and I called him. — Think ! . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He was not of your opinion ? 
 An- H AFI. 
 
 He would hear 
 Nothing I had to say, threw down the board 
 Contemptuously, and answered once for all 
 He wished to be checkmated; wished to be ! 
 Do you call that plaving ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Hardly playing well; 
 'Tis but to play at playiog. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Yet the game 
 Was for no trifling stake. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Gold lost or won, 
 That is what matters least. But to refuse 
 To hear you ! on a subject of such weight 
 Not to listen ! not to praise your eagle glance ! 
 'Tis this that cries for vengeance; is it not so ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 I tell you but to show you what he is. 
 
 But I'll bear with him no longer. Here I run ♦ 
 
 From one sordid Moor to another to find out 
 
 Who'll lend him money! I who never yet 
 
 Could beg for myself must borrow now for him. 
 
 To borrow is not much better than to beg, 
 
 As to lend on usury is not much more 
 
 Than stealing. With my Ghebers on the banks 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 77 
 
 Of the Gauges I need neither, and need be 
 The tool of neither. Orjly on the banks 
 Of the Ganges, of the Ganges there are men. 
 You alone would be counted worthy here to dwell 
 Upon the Ganges. — Will you come with me ? — 
 Leave him the trumpery stuff. He'll rob you else 
 Little by little. So the drudgery will 
 Be done with. Come ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I should think, indeed, for that 
 There's time enough. But I'll consider it, 
 Al-Hafi. Wait. . . 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Consider ? No, such things 
 Are not to be considered. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Only wait 
 Till I've seen the Sultan; till I've taken leave. . . 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 He who considers seeks a reason for 
 
 Not doing. He who cannot choose at once 
 
 To live true to himself, must live always 
 
 The slave of others. — As you will !— Farewell ! 
 
 As you think best.— My way lies there, yours here. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Al-Hafi ! You'll first settle your affairs ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 'T would be a farce ! What's in my treasury 
 Is not worth counting; and my reckoning 
 You'll answer for — or Sittah. So farewell ! 
 
 [He goes out.) 
 
78 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 Nathan {looking after him.) 
 Ill answer for it ! — Strange, kind, noble, — what 
 Shall I say more of him ? — The true beggar is, 
 He only and alone, the real king ! 
 
 (Goes out on the other side.) 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 Scene I. 
 
 In nathan's house. 
 rech a and DATA. 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 What was it, .Daya, that my father said ? 
 
 "At any moment I might look for him ?" 
 
 That sounds —does it not? — as if he'd soon be here. — 
 
 Yet how many moments have gone by ! — Ah well, 
 
 Who thinks of those already gone J ? — I'll live 
 
 Each moment for the next. 'Twill come at last, 
 
 The one when I shall see him. 
 
 data. 
 
 Had it not been 
 For the Sultan's message, Nathan would himself 
 Have brought him to you. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 When it has come indeed, 
 That moment; when my dearest wish has been 
 Fulfilled, my most ardent wish: what then? — what 
 then? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 What then ? Why then, I hope, my "most ardent 
 
 wish 
 Will also be fulfilled. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 79 
 
 RECH A . 
 
 What will take the place 
 Of that wish which has reigned so long supreme 
 
 above 
 All others in my breast?— Nothing? The thought 
 Fills me with terror ! . . . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Mine, my wish will take 
 The place of that which is fulfilled; my wish 
 To know that you are in Europe, in the hands 
 Of those who are worthy of you. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You are wrong. — 
 What made this wish yours, that must hinder it 
 From being mine. Your fatherland draws you: 
 Shall mine not hold me? shall the thought of yours, 
 Still lingering in your soul, have greater power 
 Than the one I can see and touch and hear, than 
 mine ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Strive as you will ! The ways of Heaven are 
 The ways of Heaven. And if it were through him 
 Who saved you that his God, for whom he fights, 
 Would lead you to the people, to the land 
 That you were born for ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Daya, dear Daya ! what 
 Are you saying? You have strange fancies of your 
 
 own ! 
 "His, his God ! for whom he fights ! " To whom 
 Does God belong ? what sort of God is this 
 Who belongs to a man? who must let men fight for 
 
 Him?— 
 
And how can we know for what spot on earth we are 
 
 born 
 If it be not for the one that gave us birth ?— 
 If my father heard you ! — What has he done to you, 
 That you'd have me place my happiness as far 
 As possible from him ? What has he done, 
 That with the seed of reason he has sown 
 Unmixed, you long to mingle in my soul 
 The weeds and flowers of your native land ? — 
 He will not have them, your gay flowers ! — nor 
 I either, dear, dear Daya ! For I feel, 
 Though they clothe it with such beauty, they exhaust 
 The soil and make it barren; and I grow 
 So faint, so giddy with their fragrance, with 
 Their sweet oppressive fragrance !— You have learnt 
 To bear it. I'll not blame the stronger nerves 
 That endure it; but it is too much for mine. 
 How your angel has already made me play 
 The fool ! — In my father's presence I still blush 
 For my folly. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Folly ! — As if reason here 
 Had anything to do ! — If I might speak! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 May you not speak? Have I not been all ear 
 
 When you told me of the heroes of your faith ? 
 
 Have I not always wondered at their deeds 
 
 And shed tears for their sorrows ? Though in truth 
 
 Their faith has never seemed to me to be 
 
 Their most heroic virtue, all the more 
 
 Consoling to me was the lesson, that 
 
 Submission to God's will does not depend 
 
 Wholly on what we think of God. — And so 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 81 
 
 My father often told us; you yourself 
 
 Have often joined in with him : why pull down 
 
 Alone what you have helped him to build up ? — 
 
 Dear Daya, 'tis no time to talk of this 
 
 When we hope so soon to meet our friend. And yet 
 
 For me it is, since it concerns me more 
 
 Than I can express to know whether he too . , , 
 
 But hark ! — Is there not some one at our door? 
 
 If it were he ! Hark, Daya ! 
 
 Scene II. 
 recha. daya. the templar, /or whom some one outside opens the 
 door with the words: 
 
 Enter here ! 
 recha (as if wishing to fall at his feet). 
 'Tis he ! my preserver ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To avoid this I have come 
 So late; and yet — 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I'll only at the feet 
 Of this proud man thank God again, and not 
 The man, who no more wishes to be thanked 
 Than the water-vessel does that quenched the fire. 
 That let itself be filled, that let itself 
 Be emptied without caring: so the man. 
 He too was only thrust into the flames: 
 And then by chance I fell into his arms; 
 By chance remained there, like a spark upon 
 His mantle; till at last I know not what 
 Thrust us both out again. — What need is here 
 For thanks ? — In Europe, wine has urged men on 
 To far greater deeds.— A Templar must act so; 
 Must fetch, like a dog that is somewhat better trained, 
 Out of fire as well as water. 
 
 
82 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 (who has been watching her with astonishment and 
 uneasiness.) 
 
 O Daya, if 
 In my grief and bitterness I treated you 
 Unkindly, why repeat each foolish word 
 I uttered? 'Twas too cruel a revenge ! 
 Yet, if you'll only now... 
 
 DATA. 
 
 I think, sir knight, 
 That these little stings inflicted on her heart 
 Have not greatly harmed you there. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You were in grief? 
 And were more avaricious with your grief 
 Than with your life ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Sweet, lovely child ! How is 
 My soul divided between eye and ear! — 
 It was not you I saved; no, no, not you. — 
 For who could know you and not save you ? who 
 "Would have waited till I came ? — Truly — fear — 
 Disguises ! 
 
 (A pause during which he seems absorbed in gazing at her.) 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 But I find you still the same. — 
 
 (Another pause, until she goes on as if to interrupt his gaze, 
 Will you not tell us, though, where you have been ? 
 I might almost ask you where you are. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I am — 
 Where perhaps I should not be. — 
 
RECHA. 
 
 And have also been 
 Where you should not have been 1 That is not "well. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I've been upon — what is the mountain called ? 
 Upon Mount Sinai. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah, can you tell me then 
 
 If it is true. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What ? what ? If it is true 
 That the place may still be seen where Moses stood 
 Before God when . . . 
 
 recha . 
 Not that; for where he stood 
 He stood before God. And I know enough 
 Already about that. — But is it true 
 That on that mountain 'tis not half so hard 
 To go up as to come down ? — For with me, 
 On all the mountains I have ever climbed, 
 It was just the other way. — You turn from me ? 
 You will not look at me ? 
 
 templar. 
 
 'Tis that I wish 
 To listen to you. 
 
 recha. 
 
 Bather, you do not wish 
 For me to see that my simplicity 
 Has made you smile; that you smile because I found 
 Nothing of more importance to inquire 
 Of this holiest of all mountains. Is it not so ? 
 
84 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Now let me look into your eyes again ! — 
 
 What ? you have cast them down ? you have ceased 
 
 to smile ? 
 When I would read in your glance, in your doubt- 
 ful glance, 
 What I hear, what your voice so plainly tells me — 
 
 then 
 You are silent ? — Ah, Recha! Recha! how true it was, 
 What he said ! "Only know her first !'' 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Who said? — of whom ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 ''Only know her first!" your father said to me; 
 Said it of you. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Did I not say the same ? 
 Did I not say it also ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 But where is 
 Your father? Is he with the Sultan still ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 No doubt. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Still there? — How forgetful I have been! 
 No, no; not there. — He is waiting for me now 
 
 At the monastery. So it was agreed, 
 
 I think. Let me go to bring him . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Stay, sir knight, 
 Stay ! That is my affair. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 *5 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not so, not so ! 
 He is expecting me, not you. Besides, 
 He may perhaps . . . who knows? he may have had 
 Some trouble with the Sultan. . . You do not know 
 The Sultan !— Believe me, there is danger if 
 I do not go . 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Danger ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Danger for me, 
 For you, for him, if I do not quickly go. 
 
 {He goes out.) 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 RECHA and DAYA. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 What is it, Daya?— So soon?— What ails him? What 
 Has driven him away ? 
 
 ' DAYA. 
 
 Let him go, let him go. 
 
 Sign? of what? 
 
 'Tis no bad sign, I think. 
 
 RECHA. 
 DAYA. 
 
 That something is goiüg on withim It works, 
 And must not overwork. Let him alone. 
 Now 'tis your turn. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My turn ? You are, like him, 
 Incomprehensible. 
 
DAYA. 
 
 The time has come 
 When you may repay him for all the anxious hours 
 That he has caused you. But do not be too harsh, 
 Too eager for revenge. 
 
 RECH A. 
 
 You may yourself 
 
 Know what you mean, 
 
 So calm again ? 
 
 daya. 
 
 Are you already then 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I am; yes, I am . . . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Confess, at least, that his uneasiness 
 Rejoices you, and that you owe to it 
 What ease \ou now eDJoy. 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 If it be so, 
 'Tis without my knowledge ! What I could confess 
 At most would be how it surprises me 
 That such. a calm should follow in my heart 
 So soon on such a storm. The sight of him, 
 His words, his tone . . . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Have sufficed you ? 
 
 EECHA. 
 
 Sufficed me ? no, 
 That I cannot say — far from it — 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Have only stilled 
 The fierce hunger then. 
 
EECHA. 
 
 If you will have it so. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 'Tis not I who will. 
 
 EECHA. 
 
 He'll be ever dear to me; 
 Ever dearer than my life: although my pulse 
 No longer changes at the mere sound of 
 His name; although my heart no longer beats 
 More swiftly, more strongly when I tbink of him. 
 But what am I sayiog? Come, dear Daya, come 
 To the wiudow that looks out upon the palms. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 So the fierce huDger is not wholly stilled ? 
 
 EECHA. 
 
 I would see the palms too now, not only him 
 Beneath the palms. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 This chill may te followed by 
 Another fever. 
 
 EECHA. 
 
 What chill ? I am not cold. 
 I see with no less pleasure what I see 
 With more repose. 
 
 Scene IY. : . 
 An audience-room in saladin's palace, saladin and sittah. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 (turning towards the door as he enters.) 
 
 Bring the Jew here as soon 
 As he comes. He does not seem to be in haste. 
 

 SITTAH. 
 
 
 He was not at hand, perhaps; could not be found, 
 
 At once. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Sister! sister! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 
 
 You 
 
 look as if 
 
 You were to fight 
 
 a battle. 
 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And with arms 
 That I have not learnt to use. I must lay snares; 
 Must dissemble; must threaten; must walk on slip- 
 pery ice. 
 When could I do that? Where could I have learnt 
 To do it ? — And all this I must do for what? 
 Ah, what? — For gold !— To wriug gold from a Jew 
 By threats! — To such trifling arts must I descend 
 For the most trifling of all trifles! 
 
 6ITTAH. 
 
 Yet 
 
 There's no trifle, brother, that unduly scorned 
 Will not avenge itself. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Too true ! But if 
 This Jew should be indeed the good, wise man 
 The dervish once described to you ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 O then, 
 What cause then for alarm ? The snare is laid 
 For the avaricious Jew, the timid Jew, 
 Not for the good, not for the wise man. He 
 Is ours already without snares. To hear 
 How such a man will speak, to watch him, how 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 89 
 
 He either rends asunder with bold strength 
 Or winds with cautious foresight past the net; 
 That pleasure you will have beside. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That will delight me. 
 
 'Tis true, 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Nothing then remains 
 To hinder you. For if he is but one 
 Of the crowd, but a Jew like any other Jew, 
 You will not be ashamed to seem to him 
 What he believes all men to be ? Who would 
 To such a one seem better, seems to him 
 A dupe, a fool. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I must do evil, then, 
 Lest evil men should think evil of me? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 If you call it evil-doing to make use 
 Of each thing according to its nature. 
 
 Yes! 
 
 > 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What 
 Has a woman's brain conceived that it knows not how 
 To beautify ! But this finely pointed blade 
 Will break, I fear, in my rude grasp! — Such tools 
 Have need to be handled as they were contrived, 
 With the utmost skill. — Yet if I mu3t, I must! 
 I'll dance even as I can; and would indeed 
 Rather dance worse than better. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Do not mistrust 
 Yourself ! I'll vouch for it that you can do 
 What you will. How men like you would have us 
 think 
 
9 o 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 That your sword alone has done great things for you ! 
 The lion, when he hunts game with the fox, 
 Is ashamed not of the guile but of the fox. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And how you women love to drag men down 
 To a level with yourselves ! —Go now, go ! — 
 I believe I know my lesson. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I must go? 
 
 You would not stay ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not stay, perhaps . . . not stay 
 In sight of you — but here in the next room. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 To listen there ? No, no, that must not be. — 
 Away ! away ! I hear him coming. — See 
 That you do not stay without ! I'll see to it. 
 
 {As siTTAH goes out through one door, nathan enters at the 
 other and saladin takes a seat.) 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 SALADIN and NATHAN, 
 
 SALADIN . 
 
 Come nearer, Jew ! — Nearer ! — Come closer still ! — 
 And have no fear ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Let that be for your foes ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Your name is Nathan ? 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 
 
 or 
 
 Nathan the Wise ? 
 
 Have called you so. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You call yourself 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not I. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 The people then 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The people, that may be ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Do not think that I despise the people's voice. 
 I have long wished to know the man they call 
 The Wise. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What if they called him so in sport ? 
 What if wise to them meant prudent only, and he 
 Alone were prudent who well understood 
 His own advantage? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 His true advantage, you mean ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then the most selfish man would be indeed 
 
 The most prudent. Then would wise arid prudent be 
 
 Indeed the same. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I hear you prove what you wish 
 To contradict. Where man's true advantage lies, 
 You know, though the people do not. Or at least 
 You have sought to know it; have thought of it; and 
 
 this 
 Already makes the wise man. 
 
NATHAN. 
 
 That each thinks 
 Himself to be. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Enough of modesty ! 
 To find that only where we hoped to find 
 Pry reason, is distasteful. 
 
 {He springs up.) 
 
 Jo the point ! 
 But be upright, Jew ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan, I'll serve you so 
 As to deserve your favor. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Serve me? how? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You shall have the best of all; shall have it at 
 The lovvest price. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What are you speaking of? 
 Not of your wares ? — My sister will not fail 
 To chaffer with you. (That for the listener !) — 
 But I wish nothing from the merchant. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then 
 You would doubtless learn what I have seen or heard 
 Of the foe, who are now again in motion ? — If 
 I may speak without disguise. . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I already know 
 What I need to know of that. I would question you 
 On a subject far removed. — Since you are so wise, 
 Tell me what faith, what law has given you 
 Most light? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan, I am a Jew. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 93 
 
 SALAD1N. 
 
 And I 
 
 A Mussulman. The Christian is between. — 
 
 Of these three religions only one can be 
 
 The true.— A man like you does not remain 
 
 Where the accident of birth has cast him, save 
 
 From insight, grave reasons, choice of what is best. 
 
 Well, share your insight with me. Let me hear 
 
 The reasons I have not time to seek myself. 
 
 Let me know — of course in confidence — the choice 
 
 Determined by these reasons, that I too 
 
 May make it mine. You start ? You gaze at me ? 
 
 I may be the first sultan who has had 
 
 Such a whim; though in truth 'tis one that seems to 
 
 me 
 Not unworthy of a sultan. — Am I not right? 
 Speak then, speak ! Or would you first have time 
 To reflect ? You shall have it. (Is she listening still ? 
 I'll take her by surprise, and hear from her 
 If 'twas well done.) — Think quickly ! I'll be gone 
 Only a moment. 
 
 {He goes into tho next room to which sittah withdrew.) 
 
 Scene VI. 
 Nathan, (alone.) 
 What would the Sultan ? what ?— 
 I am ready to give gold; and he asks for — truth 
 For truth ! And would have it so — so bare, so blank, - 
 As if truth were a coin ! Yes, if it were 
 Like some ancient coin, to be valued by its weight !- 
 That might be ! But a new coin, only made 
 By the stamp of the die to be counted out upon 
 The money-changer's board, that truth is not ! 
 As gold into a bag, can truth be swept 
 
94 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Into the brain ? Who's the Jew here ? I or he ? 
 
 Yet if he should in truth be seeking truth ? 
 
 To suspect that he does but use truth as a snare 
 
 Would be too little ! For a great man what's 
 
 Too little ? He who comes as a friend knocks first 
 
 And listens, does not rush so rudely in . — 
 
 I must be upon my guard! — how? in what way ? — 
 
 It will not do to be the stiff-necked Jew. — 
 
 And to be no Jew at all will do still less. 
 
 For if no Jew, why not a Mussulman ? — 
 
 I have it ! That may save rae ! We put off 
 
 Not children only with a tale. — He comes. 
 
 Let him come ! 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 SALADIN and NATHAN. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 (So the coast is clear !) — I have not returned 
 
 Too soon ? You have reflected ? — Now then, speak ! 
 
 No soul can hear us . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 W T ould that the whole world heard ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 So sure is Nathan ? Ha ! I call that wise ! 
 Never to hide truth ! to stake all beside 
 For that ! body and soul ! lands and life ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes ! yes ! when 'tis needful and can be of use. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 One of my titles I may hope henceforth 
 To bear with right, Reformer of the World 
 And of the Law . 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 95 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A glorious title ! Yet 
 Before I show you, Sultan, all that's in 
 My heart, 1 may tell you a short tale ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why not ? 
 I have ever been a friend of tales well told. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well told, that I cannot promise you. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Again 
 Such proud humility ? — Begin, begin ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 In the East, many years ago, there lived a man 
 Who possessed a ring of priceless worth, the gift 
 Of one he loved. The stone was an opal, which 
 
 shone 
 With a hundred varied hues, and had the power 
 To render him who wore it in that faith 
 Pleasing to God and man. What wonder then 
 If the man in the East never let it leave his hand, 
 And sought to keep it as an heritage 
 In his own household? He bequeathed the ring 
 To the son he loved best, and commanded him 
 To leave it to that one among his sons 
 Whom he in turn loved best; and so always, 
 Without regard to birth, by virtue of 
 The ring alone, the best beloved son 
 Was to be head and ruler of the house. — 
 "understand me, Sultan. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I understand. Go on ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 So now this ring, passing from son to son, 
 Came at last to a father of three sons, who all 
 
Were alike obedient and therefore alike beloved. 
 Yet from time to time — as the father found himself 
 Alone with each, and the others did not share 
 The outpouring of his heart— now this one seemed, 
 Now that, now the third, most worthy of the ring, 
 Which he was weak enough to promise each. 
 So it went on as long as it went on. — 
 But the kind father, when he came to die, 
 Knew not what to do. It grieved him to offend 
 Two of his sons who trusted in his word. 
 So he sent in secret for a jeweller, 
 And bade him make for him two other rings 
 By the pattern of the first, and not to spare 
 Either labor or expense, that the three might be 
 In all respects the same. When this was done 
 And the rings were brought, the father could not tell 
 Himself which was his own. Joyful and glad, 
 He called for his sons, each one apart, and gave 
 To each apart his blessing — and his ring — 
 And died. — You hear me, Sultan ? 
 
 saladin (who has turned uneasily 
 away from him.) 
 
 I hear, I hear 1 — 
 Make haste to end your tale. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I have ended it. 
 What is left scarce needs to be told. — The father 
 
 dead, 
 Each came with his ring, each claimed to be head of 
 
 the house. 
 They questioned, they wrangled, they went to law. 
 
 In vain ! 
 
It was impossible to prove which was 
 The right riDg — 
 
 {After a 'pause during which he has waited 
 for the sultan to speak.) 
 Almost as impossible 
 As for us to prove now which is— the right faith. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That is your answer to my question ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That 
 Is but my excuse if I do not trust myself 
 To distinguish between the rings, which the father 
 
 caused 
 To be made so that none might distinguish them. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 The rings ! — 
 Do not trifle with me ! — The religious I have named 
 Are to be distinguished even in regard 
 To clothing, to meat and drink ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And only not 
 In regard to their foundation. — For all three, 
 Are they not founded upon history ? 
 Either written or handed down by word of mouth ? 
 And does not history rest only on 
 Fidelity and faith ? — Whose faith then, whose 
 Fidelity do we doubt least, if not 
 Those of our kindred ? of whose blood we are ? 
 Who from our childhood up have given proof 
 Of their love ? who never have deceived us, save 
 When it was for our good ? — How can I trust 
 To my forefathers less than you trust yours ? 
 Or how, on the other hand, can I ask you 
 To say that yours have lied in order not 
 
To gainsay mine ? Or yet again, the same 
 Holds also for the Christian. Does it not ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 (By the living God ! the man is right. I must 
 Be silent.) 
 
 NATHAN- 
 
 Let us go back to our rings. 
 As I have said, the sons brought suit, and each 
 Swore to the judge that he received the ring 
 From his father's own hand, — which indeed was 
 
 true ! — 
 According to the promise given him 
 Long since, that he should afterwards enjoy 
 The ring's prerogative: — which was not less true! — 
 The father, each declared, could not have been 
 Faithless to him; and rather than allow 
 Such a father, such a dear father to be so 
 Suspected, he must charge his brothers — though 
 He would gladly still believe the best of them 
 In all things else — with having played him false: 
 And he would soon find out the traitors, soon 
 Take vengeance on them. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And the judge ? — I long 
 To hear what he said to them. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The judge spoke thus: 
 " Unless you bring the father now at once 
 Before me, I command you to depart 
 From my judgment-seat. Do you think that I am here 
 To answer riddles ? Or will you wait until 
 The right ring finds a tongue to speak ? — Yet stay ! 
 This ring, I hear, has power to make beloved, 
 To render him who wears it pleasing both 
 To God and man. That must decide ! For that 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 99 
 
 The false rings cannot do ! Which one of you 
 Do the other two love best ? — You are silent ? What, 
 The rings work backward only ? not outward ? Each 
 Loves himself best ? — O then you are all three 
 Deceived deceivers ! All your rings are false ! 
 The true ring has been lost. To hide its loss, 
 To replace it, the father had three made for one." 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Splendid ! splendid ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 "And so," the judge went on, 
 <c If you will not have my counsel in the place 
 Of my decision, go ! — Bat I counsel you 
 To take the whole thing as it is. As each 
 Had his ring from his father, so let each 
 Think his own ring the true one. — It may be 
 The father would no longer put up with 
 The tyranny of the one ring in his house. — 
 Surely he loved you all, and all alike, 
 Since he would not suffer two to be oppressed 
 That the other might be favored. — Let each vie 
 With the rest in attaining to the measure of 
 That love, so free from prejudice ! let each 
 As for a wager strive to bring to light 
 The power of the stone in his own ring ! 
 Let him seek to aid that power by gentleness, 
 By loving forbearance, by beneficence, 
 By resignation to God's will ! And when 
 Your children's children's children have revealed 
 The power of the stone, I summon you 
 After a thousand thousand years to stand 
 Again before this judgment-seat. Then will 
 A wiser man than I sit here and speak." — ■ 
 So said the modest judge. 
 
SSALADIN. 
 
 O God ! God ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Saladin, if you feel yourself to be 
 This wiser promised man . . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 {rushing up to nathan and seizing his hand, which he does not 
 let go till the end.) 
 
 I who am dust ? 
 
 Who am nothing ? O God ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 SultaD, what moves you so ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nathan, dear Nathan ! The thousand thousand years 
 Of your judge are not yet past. — His judgment-seat 
 Is not mine.— Go! — Go ! — But be my friend. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And Saladin has no more to say ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 No more. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Nothing more ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nothing at all. — And why ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I had hoped to find occasion for a request. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 For that what need to find occasion ? — Speak ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I come from a far journey, and on my way 
 Gathered in debts. — I have almost too much 
 In ready money. — For the times begin 
 Again to threaten; — and I hardly know 
 Where to bestow it safely. — I had thought 
 That you perhaps — since the approach of war 
 Renders gold more needful— might have use for it. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 101 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 {looking him full in the face.) 
 Nathan ! — I'll not ask if Al-Hafi has 
 Been with you ; — or if some suspicion urges you 
 To make this oiler of yourself . . . 
 
 NATHAN, 
 
 Some 
 Suspicion ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I have deserved it.— Forgive me !— for 
 I was about . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not to ask me for it ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Yes! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then both are served ! If I do not send the whole? 
 *Iis because of the young Templar whom you know. 
 To him I have first a large amount to pay. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 A Templar ? You will not aid my deadliest foes ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I speak only of one whose life you spared. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah, what do you remind me of! — I bad 
 
 Forgotten the youth ! — You know him ?. — Where is he? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How? 
 You have not heard, then, that the kindness shown 
 To him through him has fallen upon me? 
 He risked the life you had just spared to save 
 My daughter from the flames. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ha ! so he looked ! 
 So might my brother Assad too have done 
 Whom he resembles !— If he is still here, 
 
102 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 Go bring him to me ! — I have said so much 
 To my sister of this brother whom she knows 
 Only by name, that I would have her see 
 His living image ! How out of one good deed, . 
 Though born of passion, other good deeds flow ! 
 Go bring him ! 
 
 nathan. {letting go saladin'S hand.) 
 
 This moment ! and the rest will be 
 
 As I have said ? 
 
 {He goes out.) 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 If my sister had but heard !— 
 Let me hasten to her ! — How shall I tell her all ? — 
 
 {He goes out on the other side.) 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 Under the palm-trees near the monastery, where the templar is 
 waiting for nathan. 
 
 templar, {y-alking up and down as if 
 struggling with himself till he breaks out.) 
 
 Here stands the wearied victim still! — I'll know 
 
 No more, no more of what is going on 
 
 Within me; will not forebode what may go on. — 
 
 Enough, I fled in vain ! in vain ! — And yet 
 
 What could I do but fly ? — Now come what will ! — 
 
 The blow could not be turned aside, it fell 
 
 Too swiftly, fell at last though shunned so long. — 
 
 To see her, whom I had so little wish 
 
 To see, and to resolve never again 
 
 To lose sight of her — What resolve ? Resolve 
 
 Is purpose, deed; and I, I suffer, can 
 
 But suffer. — To see her, and to feel my life 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 T03 
 
 Was woven in with hers, bound up with hers, 
 
 Were one. —Are one. — To live apart from her 
 
 Is inconceivable; would be my death, — 
 
 And wheresoever after death we are, 
 
 There too my death. — If this be love, why then 
 
 The Templar loves indeed— the Christian loves 
 
 The Jewish maiden. — But what matters that ? 
 
 Here in the Promised Land — to me therefore 
 
 A land of promise evermore ! — I've cast 
 
 More than one prejudice away. — What would 
 
 My Order? As a Templar I am dead; 
 
 Have been so since the hour when I became 
 
 The prisoner of Saladin. The head 
 
 That Saladin gave back to rae is not 
 
 The old one. — 'Tis a new one, and of all 
 
 That cramped that other, all that was instilled 
 
 Into that other, it knows nothing. — 'Tis 
 
 A better one, more suited to this land 
 
 Which was my father's. For with it I think 
 
 For the first time as my father must have thought 
 
 If the tales that have been told me were not false. — 
 
 Yet never have they seemed more worthy of 
 
 Belief than now, that I stumble where he fell. — 
 
 He fell ! Let me rather fall with men than stand 
 
 With children !— His example is the pledge 
 
 Of his approval. And for whose beside 
 
 Do I care to seek ? — For Nathan's ?— Oh, from him 
 
 I may hope to have encouragement as well!— 
 
 What a Jew ! — Yet he would seem no more than a 
 
 Jew ! — , 
 
 He comes, comes quickly and with joyful look. 
 But who comes otherwise from Saladin ? 
 Here, Nathan, here ! . 
 
Scene IX. 
 Nathan and the templar. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How? is it you? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You've been 
 A long while at the Sultan's. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not so long. 
 I was detained on my way there. — Truly, Curd, 
 The man does not belie his fame. His fame 
 Is but his shadow. — Let me tell you, though, , . , 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Tell me what ? 
 
 NATHAN . 
 
 That he would speak to you at once. 
 Come with me to my house, where I have first 
 Something to see to for him: then we'll go. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Your house ! — I'jI never enter it again, 
 Nathan, unless . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You have been there? You have talked 
 With Rscha? — How were you pleased with her? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Beyond 
 Expression ! — But I'll never see her more! — 
 No, never ! never ! — For you then would have 
 To promise me that I should be allowed 
 To see her always, always. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How do you mean 
 For me to understand this ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 105 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 {After a short pause, suddenly clasping Nathan in his arms.^ 
 My father! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Young man ! 
 
 templar (as suddenly releasing him) 
 Not son ? — I beseech you, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Dear young man ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not son ?— 'I beseech"you ! — I implore you by 
 The earliest ties of nature ! — Do not place 
 Above those ties the later bonds imposed 
 By custom !— Be content to be a man ! — 
 Do not thrust me from you, Nathan ! — 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Dear, dear friend ! 
 
 And son ? not son ?- 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 -Not even though gratitude 
 
 Has made a way into your daughter's heart 
 For love ? Not even though two wait but a sign 
 From you in order to be one ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Young knight, 
 You take me by surprise. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How, Nathan, how ? 
 I take you by surprise with your own thoughts ?— 
 You do not know them when you hear them from 
 My lips ?— How do I take you by surprise ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Before I have heard even which Stauften was 
 Your father ? 
 
TEMPLAR. 
 
 At such a moment you can feel 
 Nothing -but curiosity? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 For see ! 
 I myself knew a Stauffen once, whose name 
 Was Conrad. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What if it was my father's too ? — 
 I have the same name as my father: Curd 
 Is Conrad. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yet could my Conrad not have been 
 Your father. For he was what you are ; was 
 A Templar; was never married. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What of that? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Oh, in spite of that he might have been 
 My father ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You jest. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And you are too exact! — 
 What would it matter if 'twere so ? The race 
 Is not to be despised. — Do not ask m$ for 
 My ancestral proofs, and 111 dispense with yours. 
 Not that I doubt your lineage. God forbid ! 
 You may trace it back to Abraham : the rest 
 I know myself; will swear to it myself. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You are bitter. — Do I deserve it? — Have I yet 
 Refused you anything ? — I will not at 
 A moment's notice take you at your word. — 
 That is all. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 107 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That is all ? O forgive me, then ! . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And now 
 Come with me ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 "Where ? — To your^house ? — Not there ! — It burns ! — 
 I'll wait here.— If we are to meet again 
 I shall see her often enough. If not, I've seen 
 Too much of her already. . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I'll return 
 As soon as possible. 
 
 Scene X. 
 
 The templar, and soon aftenvards data. 
 
 templar. 
 
 Already more 
 Than enough! — The human brain can hold so much; 
 Yet is often all at once so full ! so full 
 Of a trifle !— Let it be full of what it will !— 
 I must have patience ! For the soul works in 
 The upheaving stuff, soon makes room for itself, 
 And light returns, and order. — Do I love 
 For the first time ? — Was what I have known as love 
 Not love ?— Is love only what I now feel ? . . . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 (Coming stealthily towards him from the side.) 
 Sir knight ! sir knight ! 
 
 templar. 
 Who calls ?— Ha, Daya, you ? 
 
 DAYA., 
 
 I have crept past him. But we might be seen 
 Where vou now stand.— Come near, behind this tree. 
 
io8 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What is it ? — Why this secrecy ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 It is 
 A secret that has brought me to you, or 
 I should have said two secrets, one of which 
 I alone know, the other only you. — 
 What if we should exchange ? You tell me yours, 
 I'll tell you mine. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 With pleasure, if you'll say 
 What you consider mine. But that perhaps 
 Will be made clear by yours. — Begin, then. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 No, 
 Sir knight; you first, I follow. Mine would be 
 Of no use to you before I found out yours. — 
 Only be quick ! — For if I find it out 
 By questioning, my secret shall remain 
 My secret, while you will be rid of yours. — 
 And yet, poor knight ! . . . O that you men should 
 
 think 
 You can have such a secret from a woman ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How 
 If we ourselves do not know we have it, though ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 That may be. I must have the kindness then 
 To tell you yours. — Why did you leave us in 
 Such haste ? Why not return with Nathan ?— Say, 
 Were you so little pleased with Recha ? or 
 So much ?— So much ! so much !— Teach me to know 
 The fluttering of the poor bird when he clings 
 To the lime-twig ! — Come, confess it quickly, that 
 You love her, love her even to madness, and 
 You shall hear something. . . 
 
 -jxr— i^rrrjm 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 109 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Even to madness ? 
 You know what you are talking of. 
 
 Yes, 
 
 DAYA, 
 
 Ah well, 
 Grant me the love : I'll not insist upon 
 The madness. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Because it is a thing of course ? — 
 A Templar love a Jewish maid ! . . . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 That does 
 Indeed seem to be senseless. — Yet at times 
 There's more sense in a thing than we suppose; 
 And 'twould not be so unheard of, after all, 
 If the Saviour led us to Himself by paths 
 That the wise and prudent of their own accord 
 Would not have entered. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You grow solemn ? — (If 
 Instead of Saviour I say Providence, 
 Is she not in the right ?J— You make me feel 
 More curious than I am wont to be. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 A this, 
 You know, is the land of miracles ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 (At least 
 A land where strange things happen. And why not, 
 When the whole world is thronging here at once ?) — 
 Dear Daya, take for granted what you will: 
 That I love her; that I cannot even think 
 How I shall live without her. . . 
 
DAYA. 
 
 Swear, sir knight, 
 Swear then to make her yours; to rescue her 
 Here for all time, there for eternity. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And how ? — How can I ? — Can I swear to do 
 What is not in my power ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 'Tis in your power. 
 By a single word I'll put it in your power. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So that the father also will consent ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Father ? what father ? The father must consent. 
 
 TEMPLÄ.R. 
 
 Must, Daya ?— He has not fallen among thieves. 
 He "must" do nothing. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Must be willing then; 
 Must in the end be willing. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Willing and must ! — 
 But Daya, what if I should tell you that 
 I have myself ventured to sound this note 
 Before him ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 And he did not fall in ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 He fell in, 
 But with a discord that offended me. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 You let him see the shadow of a wish 
 For Kecha, and he did not spring up with 
 Delight? but instead drew back coldly ? made 
 Objections ? 
 
TEMPLAR. 
 
 Something of that kind. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 I'll hesitate no longer — 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Why then 
 
 (Pause.) 
 How is it that 
 
 You are hesitating still f 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 He is so kind !— 
 I myself owe so much to him ! — although 
 He will not hear of such a thing ! — God knows 
 My heart bleeds to compel him. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Put an end, 
 Daya, to this uncertainty ! Yet if 
 You are yourself uncertain whether that 
 Which you propose may be called good or bad, 
 Shameful or praiseworthy, — be silent ! I'll 
 Forget that you have anything to hide. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 That spurs me on instead of checking me. 
 Know, then, that Recha is no Jewess; that 
 She is — a Christian. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes ? I wish you joy ! 
 Was your travail hard ? Yet do not fear such 
 Go on with zeal to people heaven, since 
 You can people earth no more ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 My news, sir knight, 
 Did not deserve this scoffing answer. What? 
 That Eecha is a Christian, does it not 
 Rejoice you, you who love her, you who are 
 A Christian, a Templar ? 
 
 
112 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 More especially 
 As she is a Christian of your making. 
 
 DATA. 
 
 Ah, 
 Do you understand it so ? Let it pass so ! — No ! 
 I should like to see who could convert her ! 'Tis 
 Her good fortune long to have been what she is now 
 Unfitted to become. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Explain yourself, 
 Or — go ! 
 
 DATA. 
 
 She is a Christian child; was born 
 Of Christian parents; is baptized . . . 
 
 templar, (quickly.) 
 
 And what 
 Of Nathan? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 He is not her father. 
 
 templar. 
 
 Not 
 Her father?— You know this? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 I know it to be the truth, 
 Which has often caused me to shed tears of blood.—* 
 He is not her father ... 
 
 templar. 
 
 And has brought her up 
 As his daughter? has brought up the Christian. child 
 As a Jewess ? 
 
 DAY A. 
 
 He has. 
 templar. 
 She knew not, never heard 
 From him that she was born a Christian, not 
 A Jewess? 
 
DAYA. 
 
 Never ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 He not only brought 
 The child up in this error ? but has left 
 The maiden in it also ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 'Tis too true ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Nathan — How ? The wise, good Nathan could 
 
 So falsify the laws of nature, so 
 
 Mislead the outgoing of a heart that left 
 
 To itself would have sought another course f You 
 
 have 
 Indeed confided to me something of 
 Importance, — something that may have results, — 
 That confuses me, — so that I know not yet 
 What I shall do. — Therefore leave me ! Give me 
 
 time. — 
 He will return. He might surprise us. Go ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 I should die of terror. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I am in no mood 
 To talk now with him. If you meet him, say 
 That he'll find me at the Sultan's. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Yet do not show 
 That you are displeased with him. — 'Twas only meant 
 To set the thing in motion, to remove 
 Any scruple that you might feel on account 
 Of Recha! — But when you take her back with you 
 To Europe, you'll not leave me here behind 
 Without her ? 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 That will be arranged. So go ! 
 
,-„-,;y- --^--T—--- -■ 
 
 114 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 ACT FOUBTfl. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 In the cloisters of the monastery. The lay-brother and soon 
 after the templar, 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yes, yes ! the Patriarch is right ! In all 
 That he has given me to do for him 
 I have not prospered. — But why send me on 
 Sucherrands? I cannot over-reach; cannot 
 Persuade; do not like to pry into everything, 
 To have a finger in everything. — 'Twas not 
 For this I left the world, I for myself, 
 Only to be so mixed up with it now 
 For others. 
 
 templar, (coming up to him hastily.) 
 Good brother, here you are at last ! 
 I've been seeking you for a long while. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Seeking me ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You no longer know me ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 O yes ! But I had thought 
 That I should never in my life again 
 Set eyes upon you. So I hoped to God ! — 
 For the dear God, He knows how hard it was 
 To speak to you as I had to speak. He knows 
 "Whether I wished to find an open ear 
 With you; knows too how greatly I rejoiced 
 When you so roundly and at once refused 
 What was not fitting for a knight. — But now 
 You come; now it has worked upon you ! 
 
TEMPLAR. 
 
 How? 
 You know why I have come ? I hardly know 
 
 Myself. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You have considered; have found out 
 That the Patriarch after all is not so much 
 In the wrong; that gold and honor may be won 
 By accepting his proposal; that a foe 
 Is still a foe, even though he may have been 
 Seven times our guardian angel. This you've weighed 
 With flesh and blood; and now you come — Ah God! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Kind pious man ! be content. 'Tis not for that 
 I come; 'tis not on that account I seek 
 The Patriarch. I still think upon that point 
 As I used to think, and not for the whole world 
 Would I lose the good opinion of a man 
 So upright, kind, and pious as yourself. — 
 I come only to ask the Patriarch 
 For counsel. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You the Patriarch ? A knight 
 Ask counsel of a — priest ? 
 
 (looking anxiously around.) 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes;— the affair 
 Is somewhat priestly. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The priest does not ask 
 The knight for counsel, let the matter be 
 Ever so knightly. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 'Tis because he has 
 The privilege of transgressing, one that we 
 For our part do not envy him. — Indeed, 
 
 
If I were acting for myself, had but 
 To answer to myself, I should not need 
 Your Patriarch's advice. But certain things 
 I would rather do badly for another than 
 Do well alone. — Religion, I now see, 
 Is also party-spirit; and the man 
 Who thinks he is most impartial yet upholds 
 Uuconsciously the banner of his own. 
 Since this is so, it must be for the best. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I say nothing in reply to that, sir knight, 
 For I do not rightly understand you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And yet! — 
 (What is it I would have ? Authority 
 Or counsel? — Plain or learned counsel?) — Thanks, 
 Good brother, for the hint. — What Patriarch ? — 
 Be you my Patriarch ! 'Tis the Christian in 
 The Patriarch I would question, rather than 
 The Patriarch in the Christian. — The thing is this. . . 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 No more, sir knight !— You mistake me. — Who knows 
 
 much 
 Has many cares, and I have sworn to have 
 But one. — For my good fortune, here he comes. 
 Stay where you are. He has seen you. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 TJie templar. The lay-brother. The patriarch, who is 
 coming through the cloisters with great ecclesiastical pomp. 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I should prefer 
 To avoid him. — He is not the man for me ! — 
 A stout, red-visaged, affable prelate ! And 
 What state ! 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 117 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You should see him on his way to court. 
 Now he is only coming from the sick. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How Saladin must be put to shame by him ! 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 (As he approaches he beckons to the lay-brother) 
 Here ! — You were with the Templar. What does he 
 want? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I know not. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 (Going up to the templar, while the attendants and the lay- 
 brother draw back.) 
 
 Well, sir knight ! — I am rejoiced 
 To see the brave young man ! — What, still so young ? 
 By God's help something may be done with you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Hardly more, reverend sir, than has been done 
 Already. Somewhat less perhaps. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 I hope, 
 At least, that a knight so pious may long live 
 And prosper for the good of Christendom 
 And of God's cause ! That cannot fail to be 
 If youthful courage will be guided by 
 The ripe advice of age ! — But tell me, how 
 Can I serve you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 By giving me what my youth most lacks, 
 Advice. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Right gladly !— Only the advice 
 Is to be followed. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not blindly? 
 
 
PATRIARCH. 
 
 Who says that ? — 
 None must assuredly neglect to use 
 The reason that God gave him — where it belongs. — 
 Does it belong though everywhere ? — O no !— 
 For instance, when God graciously makes known 
 By one of His angels — that is to say, by one 
 Of the servants of His word — a means by which 
 The welfare of Christendom, the safety of 
 His^Church may be promoted, may be secured 
 In some' unusual and peculiar* way : 
 Who then by reasoning should undertake 
 To search into the absolute sovereign will 
 Of Him who[created reason ? and presume 
 To weigh and measure by the petty rules 
 Of a vain honor the eternal laws 
 Of the Majesty [of^Heaven ? — But enough 
 Of this. — Let me know in what you would be advised. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Suppose then, reverend father, that a Jew 
 
 Had an only child — a daughter; that this child 
 
 Had been brought up by him with the greatest care 
 
 In everything that is good; that he loved her more 
 
 Than his own soul; that she loved him in return 
 
 With the same devotion. If 'twere whispered now 
 
 To one of our Order that this maiden was 
 
 No daughter of the Jew; he had picked her up 
 
 In her childhood, bought her, stole her, — what you 
 
 will; 
 She was known to be a Christian child ; had been 
 Baptized; the Jew had only brought her up 
 As a Jewess; had let her pass for a Jewess and 
 His daughter: — reverend father, in such a case 
 What should be done ? 
 
PATRIARCH.] 
 
 I shudder ! — First of all 
 "You must declare to me, sir 'night, if this 
 Is a fact or an hypothesis. Tl t is, 
 Whether it was invented, or has occurred 
 And continues to occur. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I should think 'twould be 
 One and the same thing, only to obtain 
 Your opinion. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 One and the same thing ? — See then how 
 The pride of human reason leads astray 
 In spiritual matters ! — Not at all ! For if 
 The case you have brought forward is no more 
 Than an exercise of wit, 'tis not worth while 
 To consider it in earnest. Thereupon 
 I shall refer you to the theatre, 
 Where such themes are debated with applause 
 And argued pro et contra. — But if this 
 Is no theatrical performance, meant 
 Only to make sport of me, but a fact; 
 If it has happened in our diocese, 
 In our dear city of Jerusalem : — 
 Why then . . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What then ? 
 
 ATRIARCH. 
 
 Then must the Jew forthwith 
 Suffer the penalty by papal and 
 Imperial law assigned for such a crime, 
 Such an outrage. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 He must ? 
 
120 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 And that law condemns the Jew 
 "Who has led a Christian to apostasy 
 To be burnt alive, 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 It does ? 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 How much more the Jew 
 "Who has snatched by violence a Christian child 
 From the covenant of her baptism ! For is not all 
 That is done to children violence ? — save indeed 
 What the Church does to children. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 But this child, 
 If the Jew had not taken pity on her, might 
 Have died of want. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 No matter ! the Jew must burn ! 
 Better to die of want here than be saved 
 To perish everlastingly. — Besides, 
 "Why should the Jew interfere with God? Whom 
 
 God 
 Would rescue He can rescue without him. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And can also in spite of him, I should think, make 
 
 blest 
 Hereafter. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 No matter ! the Jew must burn ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That goes 
 Against me ! All the more so since 'tis said 
 He has brought her up not so much in his own 
 As in no belief, and has taught her about God 
 Neither more nor less than reason would require. 
 
 _^ 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 
 
 should be thrice 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 No matter ! the Jew must burn. 
 
 burnt 
 For that alone ! — What, let a child grow up 
 With no belief at all ?~ -not teach a child 
 The great duty of believing ? This is too much ! 
 I am surprised, sir knight, that you yourself. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Reverend sir, the rest, God willing, at 
 
 Confession. 
 
 (Is about to go.) 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 You will not answer me? — This Jew, 
 This miscreant, \ou will not name him ? — will 
 Not bring him to me on the spot? — I'll go 
 At once then to the Sultan. — Saladin, 
 By the terms of capitulation, which he swore 
 To observe, must protect us, must, in all the laws, 
 In all the precepts that may be reckoned part 
 Of our most holy faith ! God be praised ! we have 
 The original; we have his hand, his seal. — 
 'Twill not be hard to make him understand 
 How dangerous even for the state it is 
 To believe in nothiug ! Every civil bond 
 Is loosened, is sundered if men are allowed 
 To believe in nothing. — Away with such a crime 
 From the face of the earth ! . . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Pity I cannot stay 
 To hear the excellent sermon somewhat more 
 At leisure. I am sent for by the Sultan. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Yes? 
 
 Well, then— Indeed- 
 
TEMPLAR. 
 
 Shall I prepare him for 
 Your coming? 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Oh, I know that you have found 
 Great favor with him !— Only say, I beg, 
 That I am at his service. — "Tis my zeal 
 For God that moves me. What I do tco much 
 I do for Him alone. — Think of that, sir kuight! 
 And what you have just told me of the Jew 
 Was a problem only, was it not? — that is . . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 A problem. 
 
 {He goes out.) 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 (Which I must investigate 
 More thoroughly: another errand for 
 The brother Bonafides.) Here, my son ! 
 
 (He goes out conversing with the lay -brother.) 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 A room in the Sultan's palace, into which slaves are bringing 
 many bags of gold and placing them side by side on the floor. 
 
 saladin and soon after sittah. 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Truly, there is no end to it ! — How much 
 Is still remaining? 
 
 A SLAVE. 
 
 About half. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Then take 
 What is left to Sittah. — And Al-Hafi, where 
 Is he ? He must have charge of this. — Or how 
 If I should send it to my father ? Here 
 It will slip through my fingers. — We grow hard 
 At last; and now 'twill surely cost some skill 
 
To win much from me. Till at least the gold 
 From Egypt comes, let poverty look out 
 For itself! — If but the spending at the grave 
 May go on ! If the Christian pilgrims may 
 Not have to leave us empty-handed ! If . . . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What does this mean ? Why send the gold to me ? 
 
 saladin. 
 Fay yourself with it and lay up the rest. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Is Nathan not here with the Templar yet ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 He is seeking him everywhere. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 See what I've found 
 
 In looking over my old jewels. 
 
 (Showing him a small lecture.) 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ha! 
 
 My brother ! 'tis he, 'tis he ! — Was he ! was he ! — 
 Ah dear brave jouth, that I should have lost thee, and 
 So soon ! With thee what might I not have done I 
 What at thy side have done ! — Leave it with me, 
 The picture, Sittah. I remember how 
 He gave it to your elder sister, to 
 His Lilla, one morning when she clung to him 
 And would not let him go. 'Twas the last time 
 He rode forth. — Ah. I let him ride alone ! — 
 Ah, Lilla died of grief, and never would 
 Forgive me that I let him ride alone ! 
 He returned no more ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 My poor brother ! 
 
SALADIN. 
 
 Do not mourn 
 For him ! — Some day we shall all return no more ! 
 And then, — who knows? It is not death alone 
 That keeps back such a youth as he was from 
 The goal. He has other foes beside, to whom 
 The strongest even as the weakest oft 
 Succumb. However that be, I must compare 
 This picture with the young Templar, must find out 
 If my fancy has misled me. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 'Twas for that 
 I brought it to you. Give it back, though, give ! 
 A woman's eye, let me tell you, will judge best. 
 
 saladin. (to a doorkeeper ivho ojjpears.) 
 Who is there? The Templar? Let him enter! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not 
 To disturb you, not to confuse him . . . 
 
 (She takes a seat on a sofa apart, and covers 
 her face with her veil.) 
 SALADIN. 
 
 'Tis well!— (And now 
 His voice ! what will that be ? Surely Assad's voice 
 Still slumbers somewhere in my soul !) 
 
 Scene IV, 
 
 The templar and salapin. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 'Tis I, 
 Your captive, Sultan, . . . 
 
 saladin. 
 My captive ? I granted life, 
 Shall I not grant freedom also ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 125 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What becomes you 
 To do, becomes me to hear only, not 
 To prescribe. But, Sultan, — to give special thanks 
 For my life suits neither my condition nor 
 My character. — That life, in any case, 
 Is again at your disposal. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Do not use it then 
 Against me ! — It is not that I grudge the foe 
 A pair of hands more. But a heart like yours, 
 'Twould be hard to give that up to them. — Brave 
 
 youth, 
 I have not been deceived in you ! You are 
 My Assad both in soul and body. See ! 
 I could ask you where all this long, long while you 
 
 have 
 Been hidden? in what cavern you have slept? 
 In what Ginnistan, by what kind Div this flower 
 Has been cherished, that it blooms so freshlj still ? 
 See! I could wish to remind you of what we did 
 Together here and there ! I could chide you that 
 You have had a secret from me ! have kept back 
 An adventure from me ! Yes, I could do it if 
 I saw you only, not myself. — Ah well ! 
 Of this sweet reverie so much at least 
 Is true, that in the autumn of my life 
 An Assad is to bloom for me again. — 
 Does it content you also ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Everything 
 That comes to me from you — be it what it may — 
 Was my heart's wish already. 
 
SÄ LADIN. 
 
 We'll put that to 
 The test at once. — You will stay with me, will 
 
 you not ? 
 As Christian, as Mussulman, no matter how ! 
 In the white mantle or the Arab cloak, 
 The turban or the felt: even as you like ! 
 I have never asked that the same bark should grow 
 On every tree. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Else you would not have been 
 What you are, the hero who would fain become 
 The Gardener of God. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 If you think no worse 
 Of me, we are half agreed already? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Your word ? 
 
 Quite ! 
 SALADiN {offering his hand.) 
 
 templar (taking it.) 
 
 Myself ! — Herewith receive more 
 Than you could have taken from me. Wholly yours ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Too much gain for one day ! too much ! — And he, 
 Did he not come with you ? 
 
 templar. 
 Who? 
 
 I came alone* 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nathan. 
 
 TEMPLAR (Coldly.) 
 
 No. 
 
SALADIN. 
 
 What a deed that was of yours ! 
 And what a wise chance, that such a deed was done 
 In aid of such a man ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes, yes! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 So cold ?— 
 No, young man ! When God has done some good 
 By means of us, we must not be so cold ! — 
 Even out of modesty we must not wish 
 To seem so cold ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yet each thing in this world 
 Has so many different sides! — We so often fail 
 To see how they fit together ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Hold fast then 
 To what is best, and praise God ! For He knows 
 How they fit together. — But if you are in truth 
 So hard to please, young man, I must also be 
 Upon my guard with you. I too, alas ! 
 Am a thing of many sides, that may often seem 
 Not to fit well together. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That cuts me to 
 The quick ! — For suspicion is so little one 
 Of my faults. . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Well, tell me now of whom you are 
 Suspicious ? — It would seem, of Nathan. — What ? 
 Suspicious of Nathan ? you ?— Explain yourself ! 
 Give me the first proof of your confidence. 
 
128 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I have nothing against Nathan. 
 Alone that I am angry. 
 
 'Tis with myself 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And for what ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That I should have dreamed a Jew could ever cease 
 To be a Jew; that waking I should have dreamed 
 It could be so. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Out with this waking dream ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You know of Nathan's daughter, Sultan. What 
 I did for her, I did it — because I did. 
 Too proud to reap thanks where I had not thought 
 Of sowing them, day by day I refused 
 To see her. The father was away: he came; 
 He heard; he sought me out; he thanked me; wished 
 That his daughter might please me; spoke of pros- 
 pects; spoke 
 Of a brighter future. — Well, I let mvself 
 Be persuaded. I came, I saw, I found indeed 
 A maiden. . . Ah, Sultan, I am ashamed ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ashamed 
 Of what? — that a Jewish maiden should have made 
 Such an impression ? surely not of that ? 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 That to this impression my rash heart, subdued 
 By the father's friendly talk, gave way so soon ! — 
 Fool that I was ! A second time I sprang 
 Into the fire. — I wooed and was despised. 
 
 SALADIN 
 
 Despised ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 129 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The wise father did not meet me with 
 A flat refusal. The wise father, though, 
 Must first inquire, must first reflect. Of course ! 
 Did I not do the same ? Did I not first 
 Inquire, reflect, when she was shrieking in 
 The flames? By God ! 'tis something beautiful 
 To be so wise, so prudent ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You must have 
 More patience with an old man ! Can he long 
 Persist in his refusal ? Will he ask 
 That you should first become a Jew? 
 
 TEMPLaR. 
 
 Who knows? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who knows ? — He who knows Nathan better than 
 To believe it. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The superstition that has grown 
 With our growth, even when we know it to be such, 
 Does not lose its power to control us. All 
 Are not free who make sport of their chains. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Remark ! Yet Nathan, Nathan 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 A sage 
 
 And the worst 
 Of superstitions is to think one's own 
 The most endurable . . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That perhaps is true ! 
 
 Yet Nathan . . . 
 
TEMPLAR. 
 
 To confide to it alone 
 The guidance of mankind, till their dim eyes 
 Have grown accustomed to the clearer light 
 Of truth; to it alone . . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But Nathan !— He 
 Is above this weakness. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So I also thought ! . . . 
 But if this paragon among men should be 
 Such a common Jew that he looks about in search 
 Of Christian children only to bring them up 
 As Jews: — what then? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who accuses him of this ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The maiden even with whom he lures me on, 
 With the hope of whom he seemed as if he wished 
 To repay me for what I had done for her: — even she 
 Is not his daughter, but a Christian child, 
 Either stolen or lost. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And yet in spite of that 
 He will not give her to you ? 
 
 templar (with violence.) 
 
 Whether he will 
 Or not, what does it matter ? He is found out, 
 The tolerant talker ! On this Jewish wolf 
 In the philosophic sheep-skin I'll find means 
 To let loose dogs that will run him down at last ! 
 
 SALADIN 
 
 (sternly). 
 
 Peace, Christian ! 
 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 131 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 What? peace, Christian?— Shall the Jew 
 And Mussulman have leave to play the Jew, 
 The Mussulman, and the Christian not be free 
 To play the Christian too ? 
 
 saladin (more sternly). 
 Peace, Christian ! 
 
 templar (with more composure). 
 I feel 
 The weight of the reproof that Saladin 
 Has pressed into that name ! Ah, if I knew 
 How Assad, — Assad in my place would here 
 Have acted ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Not much better !- — He would have been 
 Just as impetuous ! — Bat who taught you how 
 Like him to bribe me with a word ? — If this 
 Is true of Nathan, I myself scarce know 
 What to think of him. — Meanwhile he is my friend, 
 And of my friends one must not quarrel with 
 The other. — Be cautious ! Do not give him up 
 To the violence of the Christian rabble ! Keep 
 From your clergy what they would urge me to avenge ! 
 Be a Christian to spite no Jew, no Mussulman ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 It might have been too late had it not been 
 
 For the Patriarch's bloodthirsty zeal ! But thanks 
 
 To that, I feared to become his tool ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You went 
 To the Patriarch first, before you came to me ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 In the storm of passion, in the whirlwind of 
 Uncertainty!— Forgive me ! —You'll find, I fear, 
 
Nothing more in me now to remind you of 
 Your Assad. 
 
 SAL A DIN. 
 
 Unless it be that very fear ! 
 I think I know from what faults our virtues grow. 
 Cultivate these, and those will not harm you much 
 "With me. — But go ! Seek Nathan as he sought you. 
 I must make peace between you. — And if you were 
 In earnest about the maiden, she is yours ! 
 Nathan also must be made to see 
 That he should not have deprived a Christian child 
 Of swine's flesh !— Go! 
 
 {The templar goes out and sittah leaves the sofa.) 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 SALADIN and SITTAH. 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How strange ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Say, Sittah, must 
 My Assad not have been indeed a brave, 
 A handsome youth ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 If it was he who sat 
 For this picture, and not the Templar rather ! — But 
 How is it you forgot to question him 
 About his parents ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And especially 
 About his mother ? If she never was 
 In this land ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 'Twould be well to ask ! 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 133 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 O nothing is 
 More likely ! For Assad was so well received 
 By beautiful Christian ladies, was so wild 
 About beautiful Christian ladies, that in truth 
 'Twas once the talk — But I will not speak of it. — 
 Enough, I have him back! — with all his faults, 
 With all the changeful moods of his warm heart, 
 I have him back again ! — Nathan must give 
 The maiden to him, Sittah; must he not? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Must give her to him ? Must give her up to him ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Surely ! What right to her has Nathan, if 
 He is not her father ? He who saved her life 
 Alone should exercise the right of him 
 Who gave her life. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How, Saladin, if you were 
 To send for her at once ? to take her from 
 Her unrightful owner? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Is that needful? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 No, 
 Not needful ! — 'Tis only curiosity 
 That makes me ask it. For of certain men 
 I long to know as soon as possible 
 What kind of woman they love. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Send for her then. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 May I, brother 
 
SALADIN. 
 
 But Nathan must be spared! 
 Nathan must not think that we would use force 
 To part him from her. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Have no fear ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Audi, 
 I must see for myself where Al-Hafi is. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 The open entrance-hall of nathan's house on the side towards 
 the palm-trees, as in the first scene of the first act. Some of the 
 costly articles of merchandise mentioned there are lying unpacked 
 upon the ground. 
 
 NATHAN and DATA. 
 DAY A. 
 
 O all 
 Is splendid ! all is exquisite ! O all 
 Is such — as only you could give ! Where was 
 The silver stuff made -with the golden vines ? 
 What did it cost you ? — That is what I call 
 A wedding-dress ! No queen on earth could wish 
 For a better. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Wedding-dress i Why wedding-dress?. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Yes, yes ! you did not think of it indeed 
 
 When you bought it. — But truly, Nathan, it must be 
 
 That and no other ! For a wedding-dress 
 
 'Tis as if made to order. The white ground, 
 
 Emblem of innocence; the golden stream 
 
That wanders through that ground, emblem of 
 
 wealth. 
 Do you see ? How lovely ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Of whose wedding-dress 
 Are you talkiüg in parables so learnedly? 
 Are you a bride ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 I? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who then? . 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 I?- 
 
 Good God ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well, who then? Of whose wedding-dress 
 Are you speaking ?— All that you see is yours. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Is mine ? 
 Is meant for me ? — Is not for Kecha ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What 
 I have brought with me for Kecha is not yet 
 Unpacked, Come, take what is your own. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 My own ! — 
 No, tempter ! not even though it were the wealth 
 Of the whole world ! I'll not touch it unless you 
 
 swear 
 To make use of an opportunity 
 Such as Heaven will hardly grant you a second time. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Make use? of what?— Opportunity? for what? 
 
.3* 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 The Templar loves Rtcha: give her to him ! So 
 
 Is your sin, which I'll hide no longer, at an end. 
 
 So Recha comes among Christians once again, 
 
 Becomes again what she is, and is again 
 
 What she was; and 3011, with all jour kindness, which 
 
 We cannot thank you for sufficiently, 
 
 Have not heaped coals of fire upon your head. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Still harping on the same thing!— Only with 
 A new stiing, which I fear will neither hold 
 Nor keep in tune. 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 How SO? 
 
 NATHAN 
 
 I'd sooner far 
 Give Recha to him than to any one else on earth. 
 But then. . . You must have patience ! 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Patience still? 
 Patience ? Are you not harping too upon 
 The same thing? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Have patience for a few days more ! . . . 
 But who comes there? A cloister-brother? Go; 
 See what it is he wants. 
 
 daya {going towards the lay -brother.) 
 What can it be ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Give !— and before he asks. — (If I but knew 
 How to question the Templar without telling him 
 What has made me so curious ! For if I tell him all, 
 And find my suspicion groundless, I have staked 
 The father to no purpose.) — What does he wish? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 137 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 He wishes to speak to you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well, let him come; 
 And leave us. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 nathan and the lay-brother. 
 
 ' NATHAN. 
 
 (I am too eager to remain 
 Her father! — But may I not remain so though 
 I cease to bear that name ? — She, she herself 
 Will still look on me as her father when 
 She knows how I wish it.) — What can I do for you, 
 Good brother ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Not much. — I am glad to see you well. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You know me ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Who does not know you? You've stamped your 
 name 
 In many a hand; in mine too, years ago. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Come, brother, come; let me do it again then. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Thanks ! 
 I'll take nothing; 'twould be stealing from the poor. — 
 But let me remind you of my name. I too 
 Can boast that I once placed something in your hand 
 Which was not to be despised. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Forgive me!— I am 
 Ashamed — Say what?-^and take to make amends 
 Sevenfold the value of the same. 
 
LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Hear first 
 How I was myself reminded this very day 
 Of the pledge I intrusted to your care. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The pledge 
 You intrusted to my care? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 A short while since, 
 I dwelt as a hermit not far from Jericho, 
 On Quarantana. Then came Arab thieves, 
 Who broke up my chapel and my hermit's cell 
 And dragged me away with them. By great good 
 
 chance 
 I escaped and fled here to the Patriarch, 
 To beg from him some other little spot 
 "Where I might serve my God in solitude 
 Until my blessed end. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I stand on coals, 
 Good brother. Make it short! The pledge! the 
 
 pledge 
 You intrusted to me ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I'll soon speak of that. — 
 The Patriarch promised me a hermitage 
 On Tabor when one was empty; and meanwhile 
 Has kept me here as a lay-brother in 
 The monastery, where I still remain, 
 And wish myself a hundred times a day 
 On Tabor, For the Patriarch uses me 
 For all manner of things that fill me with 
 Disgust. For instance. . . 
 
NATHAN. 
 
 Make haste, good brother, make haste ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I am coming to it now ! Some one to-day 
 
 Has told him that there lives near by a Jew 
 
 Who is said to have brought up a Christian child 
 
 As his daughter. 
 
 nathan (starting.) 
 
 How? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Only hear me to the end !- 
 He has sent me to find this Jew, and is enraged 
 At the thought of such an outrage, which to him 
 Seems the true sin against the Holy Ghost; — 
 That is, the sin which of all sins we hold 
 To be the greatest; only, God be thanked, 
 We know not rightly what it is: — then waked 
 My conscience, and I felt that I myself 
 Also perhaps long since had given cause 
 For the commission of this great sin. — Say, 
 Did not a horseman eighteen years ago 
 Bring you a young child but a few weeks old ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How is this?— Surely — 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Look at me well ! — I am 
 That horseman. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 My master, who sent the child, 
 Was named — if I remember — Von Filnek — Wolf 
 Von Filnek. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Right! 
 
Ho NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The mother had just died, 
 And the father was forced of a sudden to depart 
 For Gaza, — I think — whither the poor child could 
 Not follow him: so he sent her to you. And 'twas 
 At Damn I met you, was it not ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Quite right ! 
 
 LAY -BROTHER. 
 
 'Twould not be strange if my memory played me 
 
 false. 
 I have had so many masters, and this one 
 I served but a short time. He soon after died 
 At Askalon; and was indeed a kind 
 Good master. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes, yes ! I owe him so much ! so much ! 
 More than once he saved me from the sword ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 O then 
 You were the more willing to receive his child? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 As you may suppose. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 And where is she now? 
 She is not dead, I hope ? — Do not say she's dead ! — 
 If we alone know of this matter, all 
 Is well. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Is well? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Trust me, Nathan, 'tis so! 
 For see, this is how I think ! If in the good 
 I mean to do there's something that's too much 
 
Like evil, I prefer to leave the good 
 
 Undone; because we always know indeed 
 
 What is evil, but are far from being sure 
 
 What is good. — T\vas natural that this Christian 
 
 child, 
 Since you wished to bring her up most kindly, 
 
 should 
 Be brought up by you as your own. — And if 
 You have done this with all love and faithfulness, 
 Ought you now so to be rewarded ? That 
 I cannot see. It would have been more wise 
 To have her brought up as a Christian by 
 Some other; but you would not then have loved the 
 
 child 
 Of your friend. And children at that tender age 
 Need love, though it were a wild beast's love, even 
 
 more 
 Than they need Christianity. For Christianity 
 There's time yet. If the maiden has grown up 
 In your sight sound and pious, she remains 
 In God's sight what she was before. Is not 
 The Christian built upon the Jewish faith ? 
 It has often angered me, has cost me tears 
 Enough to see how Christians can forget 
 That our Lord himself was a Jew. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Good brother, you 
 Must plead my cause for me when hatred and 
 Hypocrisy rise up against me — for 
 A deed — ah, for a deed ! — You, only you 
 Shall know it !— But take it with you to your grave ! 
 Never have I been led by vanity 
 To speak of it to another. To you alone 
 I'll speak of it. Pious simplicity 
 
i 4 2 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 Alone can understand what that man may do 
 Who has no will but God's. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You are moved, and your eyes 
 Are filled with tears. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You met me with the child 
 At Darun. But you did not know that a few days 
 Before, the Christians had put to death all the Jews 
 In Gath, even women and children; you did not 
 
 know 
 That my own wife, with seven hopeful sons, 
 Had been burnt alive there in my brother's house, 
 Where they had taken refuge. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Righteous God ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 When you came, for three days and nights I had 
 
 lain in dust 
 And ashes before God and wept. — Had wept ? — 
 Had also called God to account, cried out 
 Against Him, cursed myself and the whole world, 
 Sworn hatred to all Christians. . . 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Ah, I can well 
 Believe it ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But reason by degrees returned. 
 She spoke with gentle voice: "And yet God is ! 
 Yet even this also was by God's decree ! 
 Come, practise what you long have understood, 
 What to practise surely is not harder than 
 To understand, if you only will. Rise up !" — 
 
NATHAN THE WISE I43 
 
 I stood upon my feet and cried to God : 
 " I will ! if Thou wiliest only that I should will !— 
 Just then you came and handed me the child 
 Wrapped in your cloak. — What you said to me and I 
 To you, I have forgotten. Only this 
 I know, that I took the child, laid it upon 
 My bed, kissed it, fell on my knees and sobbed: 
 " O God ! out of seven Thou hast given me back 
 one !" 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Nathan, you are a Christian ! — By Heaven, you are 
 A Christian ! A better Christian never lived ! 
 
 NATHAX. 
 
 Well for us that what makes me seem to you 
 
 A Christian makes you seem to me a Jew ! — 
 
 But we'll speak of this no longer. Here there's need 
 
 Of action ! And although a sevenfold love 
 
 Soon bound me to this one strange maiden; though 
 
 The thought now tortures me that I must lose 
 
 My seven sons again in losing her: — 
 
 Yet if I am required by Providence 
 
 To give her up, — I obey. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 That is what I was 
 About to counsel you. Your own good sense 
 Has counselled it already. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 'Tis not the first 
 Who comes that shall have her though ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 No, surely not ! 
 
144 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He who has not a greater right to her 
 Thau I, must have an earlier,— some tie 
 Of nature and of blood. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 So I think too ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 If you know of any kinsman she may have, 
 Name me the man who is her brother, or 
 Her uncle or cousin: and from such a one 
 She will not be withheld —she who is formed 
 To be the ornament of any house, 
 Of any faith. — You know more, I hope, than I 
 Of her father's kindred. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Hardly, good Nathan ! — For 
 You have heard already, I was with him but 
 A short time. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You can tell me though at least 
 Who the mother was ? Was she not a Stauffen ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 That 
 May be ! — I think so. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Was not her brother's name 
 Conrad von Stauffen ? — was he not a Templar ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 If 
 
 I am not mistaken. But hold ! I had forgot 
 There's a little book of my master's I still have, 
 Which I took from his bosom when we buried him 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 145 
 
 At Askalon. 'Tis a book with prayers in it. 
 We call it a breviary. — Some Christian man, 
 I thought, may have use for it. — Not I indeed — 
 I cannot read — 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 No matter ! — Only go on. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 In this little book before and after stand, 
 
 As I have been told, in my master's hand the names 
 
 Of his kindred and of hers. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 O happy chance ! 
 Go ! run ! bring me the little book at once ! 
 I am ready to give for it its weight in gold 
 And a thousand thanks beside ! Go quickly, run ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I'll bring it gladly ! But what my master wrote 
 Is in Arabic. (He goes.) 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 All the same to me ! Make haste, 
 Good brother !—0 God! if I might keep her still, 
 And buy with her such a son ! — That can hardly be ! 
 Let it end now as it will ! — Who can have told 
 The Patriarch ? I must not forget to ask. — ■ 
 What if it came from Daya ? 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 NATHAN and DAYA. 
 
 daya (entering hastily). 
 Think, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well? 
 
i 4 6 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 The poor child was so frightened when she heard 
 That she was sent for ... 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 By the Patriarch ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 By 
 
 The Sultan's sister, Princess Sittah. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not 
 By the Patriarch ? 
 
 DAYA 
 
 No, by Sittah ! — Did you not hear ? — 
 Princess Sittah has sent for her. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 For whom ? 
 Has sent for Recha ? — Sittah has sent for her ? — 
 Well, if 'tis Sittah who has sent, and not 
 The Patriarch ... 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 How came you to think of him ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You have heard nothing from him lately ? and 
 Have told him nothing? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 Told him? I? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Where are 
 The messengers ? 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 At your door. 
 
NATHAN. 
 
 To make more sure, 
 I'll speak to them myself. — If 'tis only not 
 The Patriarch who is behind this ! 
 
 (He goes.) 
 
 DAYA. 
 
 And I — I fear 
 Something far worse. The only daughter of 
 So rich a Jew would be no bad choice for 
 A Mussulman. — The Templar has lost her if 
 I do not venture on the second step, 
 If I do not tell her also who she is. — 
 Courage ! When next I am alone with her 
 I'll not let slip the chance ! That will be — perhaps 
 Today, if I go with her. There's no harm 
 At least in giving her a hint. Yes, yes ! 
 It must be done ! Now or never ! It must be done ! 
 
 (She folloivs Nathan ) 
 
 FIFTH ACT. 
 
 Scene I. 
 The room in saladin's palace to which the bags of •'gold were 
 taken, and where they are still to be seen. 
 
 saladix, and soon after several mamelukes. 
 saladin (as he enters.) 
 There the gold is lying yet ! And no one knows 
 Where to find the dervish, who has fallen upon 
 A chess-board somewhere doubtless, and forgot 
 Himself; — so why not me ? — Patience ! What now ? 
 
 A MAMELUKE. 
 
 Good news, Sultan ! Eejoice, Sultan, rejoice ! 
 
 The caravan from Cairo has arrived, 
 
 With seven years' tribute from the fruitful Nile. 
 
SALADIN. 
 
 Bravo, Ibrahim ! You are indeed 
 
 A welcome messenger ! — At last ! at last ! -r- 
 
 Many thanks for your tidings. 
 
 THE MAMELUKE (lüditing.) 
 
 (Is that all ?) 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What are you waiting for? 
 
 No more 
 
 THE MAMELUKE. 
 
 A welcome, and 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What more would you have ? 
 
 THE MAMELUKE. 
 
 No gift 
 For the bringer of good tidings ? — So am I 
 The first whom Saladin has learnt to pay 
 With words ! — I may make my boast of it! — the first 
 With whom he played the miser ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Take then one 
 
 Of these bags of gold. 
 
 THE MAMELUKE. 
 
 No, not now ! not if 
 You were to give me all of them ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 So proud ? — 
 Come, there are two for you ! — He has gone ? he is 
 In earnest ? he has more nobleness of mind 
 Than I? — 'Tis surely harder far for him 
 To refuse than for me to give. — Ibrahim ! — 
 What has come over me, so near my end, 
 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 149 
 
 To wish to be another, not myself? — 
 
 Will Saladin not die as Saladin ? — 
 
 Then he should not have lived as Saladin. 
 
 A SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 Sultan, . . • 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 If you have come to tell me, . . 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 That 
 The caravan from Egypt has arrived. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I know it already. 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 So I am too late ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why too late ? — Take for your good will 
 One or two of these bags of gold. 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 Say three ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Yes, if you can count ! 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 There's a third one who 
 Is coming, — if he can come, that is. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 How so ? 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 He has broken his neck perhaps ! For when we 
 
 three 
 Had made sure that the caravan was in sight, 
 We rode off at full speed. The foremost fell, 
 
And I took the lead till we reached the city gates; 
 But Ibrahim, the grasping fellow, knows 
 More of the streets than I. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Oh, the one who fell ! 
 
 Eide back to him. 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 That I will !— And if he lives, 
 The half of what you have given me is his. 
 
 He goes.) 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 See what a noble nature he too has ! — 
 
 Who can boast of such mamelukes? May I not 
 
 think 
 That my example helped to make them what 
 They are ? — Away with the thought, at the very last, 
 Of accustoming them to another ! . . . 
 
 A THIRD MAMELUKE. 
 
 Sultan, . . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Are you 
 The one who fell? 
 
 THIRD MAMELUKE. 
 
 No. I was sent to say 
 That Emir Mansor, who led the caravan, 
 Is dismounting. . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Bring him in ! quickly ! — 'Tis he indeed ! 
 
Scene IL 
 
 EMIR MANSOR and SALADIiV. 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Welcome, Emir ! How has it fared with you ? — 
 Mansor, Mansor, you have kept us waiting long ! 
 
 MANSOR. 
 
 This letter, Sultan, will inform you what 
 Your Abulkassem had first to suppress, 
 What tumult raging in Thebais kept 
 Our convoy from departing. We have since 
 Made such haste as we could . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I believe you ! — Take, 
 Good Mansor, . . . you are willing, are you not ? . . . 
 Take at once a fresh escort, and go on 
 To my father at Lebanon with the greater part 
 Of the gold you have brought. 
 
 MANSOR. 
 
 Right gladly ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Your escort must 
 Be large enough. It has not been so safe 
 Eound Lebanon of late. Have you not heard? 
 The Templars are astir again. So be 
 On your guard ! — But come ! where is the caravan ? 
 I must see it and look to all this for myself. — 
 And you ! tell Sittah I'll be with her then. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 The palm-trees in front o/"nathan's house, where the templar 
 is walking up and down. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I cannot, will not go to into his house. — 
 Surely hell show himself at last!— That once 
 
They should have watched for me so eagerly ! — 
 And now 1 may happen some day to be asked 
 Not to pass so often before his door. — I am 
 Too ready to take offence. — What has he done 
 To make me so bitter against him ? — He said yes: 
 He has refused me nothing. And Saladin 
 Has taken upon himself to speak to him. — 
 How ? can in me the Christian be indeed 
 More'deeply rooted than in him the Jew ? — 
 "Who rightly know himself? Could I grudge him 
 else 
 
 His petty conquest from the Christians? — Though 
 No petty conquest, such a creature ! — Such 
 A creature ? whose? — Not that of the slave 
 Who floated the block ashore on life's barren strand 
 And left it there! The artist's rather, his 
 Who saw in the rude block the godlike form 
 To which'he shaped it. — Recba's true father, spite. 
 Of the Christian who begot her, is the Jew- 
 Will remain to eternity the Jew. — For if 
 I thought of her only as a Christian maid, 
 Apart from what such a Jew alone could give, — 
 Speak, my heart, — whatwouldst thou find in her 
 To please thee? Nothing! Little! — Even her smile, 
 If it were no more than the soft sweet play 
 Of quivering muscles; if what made her smile 
 Were all unworthy of the charm with which 
 It clothes itself upon her lips; not even 
 Her smile ! I've seen more beautiful than hers 
 Lavished on false wit, on idle toys, on scorn, 
 On flatterers and base lovers !— Did these too 
 Enchant me? Did these too inspire the wish 
 To flutter my life out in their sunshine ?— No, 
 They did not. And I bear ill-will to him 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 
 
 »5: 
 
 Who gave her this high worth? What if I deserved 
 The mocking words with which I was dismissed 
 By Saladin ? 'Tis bad enough that he 
 Should think so ! How little, how contemptible 
 I must seem to him ! — And all for a woman ! — Curd, 
 This will never do ! Turn about ! What if Daya's 
 
 tale 
 Could not easily be proved ? — See, there he comes 
 Out of his house, talking . . . Ha! with whom? — 
 With my cloister-brother ? He knows all then ! is 
 Betrayed to the Patriarch ! — What have I done!— 
 That a single spark of this passion in the brain 
 Should work such havoc !— Let me think though now 
 What to do next ! I'll wait apart here till 
 The cloister-brother leaves him. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 nathan and the lay-bkother. 
 nathan (coming forward). 
 
 Thanks again, 
 Good brother, many thanks ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The same to you ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 To me ? from you ? for what ? for my stubbornness 
 
 In forcing on you what you do not want ? — 
 
 As if yours had been less than mine ! Youll not 
 
 be made 
 Any richer than your friend. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The book belongs 
 To the daughter, not to me; 'tis the daughter's sole 
 Inheritance from her father. — True, she has you. — 
 
154 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 God grant yon may not have- reason to repent 
 Of what you have done for her ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Repent of it? 
 That I never shall! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Yet Templars and Patriarchs . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The wicked can never do so much to me 
 As to mate me repent of anything, least of all 
 Of that ! — Tell me, though, why you are sure 
 That it is a Templar who is urging on 
 Your Patriarch ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 It can be no one else. 
 A Templar had spoken to him just before, 
 And what I heard sounded like it. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But there's now 
 Only one in Jerusalem, and him 
 I know. He is my friend. A noble, frank 
 Young man ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 'Tis he ! — Yet what one is, and what - 
 One must be in the world, these two are not 
 Always the same. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Unfortunately not! — 
 Let him do, whoever he is, his worst or best! 
 With your book, brother, I defy them all, 
 And go with it straightway to the Sultan. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Then 
 Good luck to you ! I'll take leave of you here. 
 
NATHAN. 
 
 And you have not even seen her ! — Come to us soon, 
 Come often, good brother !— If the Patriarch hears 
 Nothing today ! — What does it. matter though ? — 
 Tell him today if you will. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Not I. 
 
 Farewell ! 
 
 (He goes out.) 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Do not forget us, brother ! — Would to God 
 
 That I could here under this open sky 
 
 Fall on my knees at once ! How the knot which has 
 
 So long perplexed me loosens of itself ! — 
 
 O God ! how light my heart is that I now 
 
 Have nothing more to conceal! that I may walk 
 
 As freely now in man's sight as in Thine, 
 
 Thou who alone dost not need to judge man by 
 
 His deeds, which so seldom are his deeds, O God! 
 
 Scene V, 
 nathan and the templar, who comes towards nathan from the 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Wait, Nathan, take me with you ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Is it you, sir knight ? 
 Where were you that you did not meet me at 
 The Sultan's? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 W r e missed each other. Do not take offence ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not I, but Saladin . 
 
TEMPLAK. 
 
 You hadfgone when I came. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You have seen him ! 'Tis well then. 
 
 TEMPLAE. 
 
 He would see us both 
 Together. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 So much the better. I was on 
 My way to him. Come with me. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Nathan, who 
 Has just;, left you ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You do not know him ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Was it not 
 The good lay-brother whom the Patriarch likes 
 To use as a runner ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That may be ! He is with 
 The Patriarch. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 'Tis no bad policy to send 
 Simplicity in advance of roguery. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes, the simplicity of the dull, — not that 
 Of the pious. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 In such no Patriarch believes. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 For him I'll answer that he will not aid 
 His Patriarch in wrong-doing. 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 157 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So at least 
 He looks. — But has he told you nothing of me ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Of you ? He has not mentioned you by name. — 
 He can hardly know your name 1 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Hardly. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He did 
 Indeed say something of a Templar. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What he could not have meant for you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Who knows ? Let us hear ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He said that a Templar had accused me to 
 His Patriarch. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Accused you ? —With his permission, that 
 Is false. — Hear me, Nathan !--I am not the man 
 To deny anything that I have done. What I did 
 I did! Bat neither am I one to say 
 That all I have done was well done. Why should I be 
 Ashamed of a fault % Have I not the firm resolve 
 To amend it ? And do I not know what a man may do 
 Who so resolves? — Hear me Nathan ! — I am 
 The lay-brother's Templar, who is said to have 
 Accused you.- -You know what vexed me! what made 
 
 my blood 
 Boil in my veins ! I came to throw myself 
 Body and soul into your arms. How cold 
 
I found you — how lukewarm — for lukewarm is still 
 
 worse 
 Than cold; how bent on putting me off you were; 
 With what far-fetched questions you answered me; 
 
 I scarce 
 Can think of it even now if I would be calm. — 
 Hear me, Nathan ! — While my mind was in 
 This ferment, Daya came creeping after me, 
 And thrust on me her secret, which at once 
 Seemed to solve the riddle of your conduct. 
 
 NATHAN- 
 
 How? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I thought that what you had taken so by force 
 From the Christians, you were not willing to restore 
 To a Christian. And so I was minded, short and 
 
 good, 
 To put the knife to your throat. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Short and good ? 
 
 And good ? — Where 
 
 is the good ? 
 
 • 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 
 I was wrong, of course ! — 
 
 You are not to blame. — Daya knows not what she 
 
 says — 
 
 
 Hates you perhaps— 
 
 -seeks only in this way 
 
 To bring misfortune 
 
 on you. — That may be ! — 
 
 I am a self-sufficienl 
 
 , wayward youth; 
 
 Lack judgment; do 
 
 now too little, now too much. — 
 
 That may also be ! 
 
 Forgive me, Nathan. 
 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 
 If 
 
 You speak so. . . 
 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 159 
 
 I EM PL AR. 
 
 In short, I went to the Patriarch ! — 
 Bat I did not name you. As I said before, 
 That is false ! I only told him of the case 
 In general terms, to ask what he thought. — That too 
 I might have left undone: for did I not know 
 Already that the Patriarch was a knave ? 
 Could I not instead have called you to account ? — 
 Mast the poor maiden run the risk through me 
 Of losing such a father ? — But what next ? 
 The villainy of the Patriarch, which was still 
 The same as ever, brought me to myself 
 By the shortest road. — For hear me, hear me out ! — 
 Say that he knows your name: well, what of that ? — 
 He can take her from you only if she belongs 
 To you alone. He can drag her only from 
 Your house into the cloister. — Give her to me ! 
 Give her to me, and let him come then. Ha ! 
 He will find it hard to take my wife from me ! — 
 Give her to me ! quickly ! — Whether she is 
 Your daughter or not your daughter ! whether she is 
 A Christian or Jewess or neither ! What do I care ? 
 I'll not ask you either now or ever again 
 In my life. Be that as it may ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You think, perhaps, 
 That I must hide the truth ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Be that as it may I 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I have never yet denied, either to you 
 
 Or to any one whom it becomes to know, 
 
 That Recha is a Christian, and not my own 
 
 But my foster-daughter. — Why have I not told her? — • 
 
 As to that, I need answer only to herself. 
 
i6o 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Even to her you need not. — Grant her this, 
 
 Never to look on you in another light! 
 
 Spare her the disclosure !--You alone as yet 
 
 Have power to dispose of her. Then give her to me ! 
 
 Give her to me, Nathan ! 'Tis I alone 
 
 Who can save her for you a second time —and will ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes — could ! but no longer can. 'Tis too late for that. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How too late ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Thanks to the Patriarch, . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To the Patriarch ? thanks ? thanks to him? for what ? 
 Has he sought to deserve our thanks ? for what ? for 
 what ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That we now know who her kindred are; now know 
 Into whose hands she may safely be given up. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Let him thank him for that — who has more to thank 
 
 him for ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 From these hands you must now receive her, not 
 from mine. 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 Poor Eecha ! How everything is against you ! What 
 To other orphans would be happiness 
 Is your misfortune ! — Nathan! — These kindred of hers, 
 Where are they ? Who are they ? 
 
 NATHAN, 
 
 A brother has been found, 
 To whom you must sue for her. 
 
TEMPLAß. 
 
 A brother ? What 
 Is this brother ? A soldier ? A priest ? Let nie 
 
 hear what I have 
 To look for. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He is neither, I believe, — or both . 
 I can hardly tell yet. 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 And besides ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A man 
 
 With whom she will be well cared for. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yet he is 
 A Christian ! — I scarce kao w what to think of you ! — 
 Do not take it unkindly, Nathan ! — Will she not have 
 To play the Christian among Cnristians till 
 She becomes at last what she has played so long? 
 Will not the good seed you have sown be choked 
 And stifled by the tares ? — And that troubles you 
 So little ? In spite of it you can say to me — you ? — 
 That Recha will be well cared for with him ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 So 
 I think! so I hope!— If there's anything she lacks 
 With him, will she not still have you and me ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 O what can she lack ? Will not the brother see 
 
 That the sister is well provided for with food 
 
 And clothing, with sweetmeats and with jewels ? What 
 
 Can a sister need more ? Truly, she will need 
 
 A husband also ! — Well, that too, that too 
 
 The brother will provide for her in good time. 
 
IÖ2 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 He will find her one ! the more Christian the better! — O 
 What an angel, Nathan, you have made of her 
 To let others spoil for you ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 No fear of that ! 
 We shall never have cause to love her less than now. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Do not say that ! Do not say it of my love ! 
 Mine will be robbed of nothing, let it be 
 Ever so little ! Not even of a name ! — 
 But hold ! — Has she any knowledge yet of what 
 Is passing ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 She may have; though I know not whence. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 No matter; she shall, she must in either case 
 Learn from me first what fate now threatens her. 
 My wish never to speak to her again, 
 Never to see her till I could call her mine, 
 Gives way, — I hasten. . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Stay! whither? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To her! 
 To see for myself whether this maiden-soul 
 Will be man enough to form the sole resolve 
 That is worthy of her ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What resolve ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To think 
 No more of you or her brother — and to follow me — 
 Even if she must become a Moslem's wife 
 By doing so. 
 
NATHAN. 
 
 Stay ! You'll not find her there; 
 She is with Sittah, the Sultan's sister. 
 
 TEMPIAR. 
 
 Since when? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 If you'd meet the brother there too, come with me. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The brother ? whose ? Sittah's or Recha's 1 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Both, 
 Perhaps. But come ! I beg you, come with me ! 
 
 {He leads the templar away.) 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 In sittah's harem. 
 
 sittah and recha conversing together. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Sweet maiden, how I delight in you ! Bat why 
 
 So anxious ? so unhappy ? so afraid ? 
 
 Be cheerful ! be more talkative ! more at ease ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Princess, . . . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not Princess ! Call me Sittah, — your friend, — 
 Your sister. Call me mother ! — I might almost be 
 Your mother. — So young ! so wise ! so pious too ! 
 What do you not know ! How much you must have 
 read ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I read ? — Sittah, you are laughing at 
 
 Your foolish little sister. I can scarce read. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Can scarce, deceiver ? 
 
1 64 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Only my father's hand. — 
 
 I thought you spoke of books. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Yes, yes ! of books. 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 Well, books 'twould be hard for me to read. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 You are 
 In earnest ? 
 
 RECH A. 
 
 In earnest. My father does not care 
 
 For that cold book-learning which but stamps itself 
 
 In lifeless characters upon the brain. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What are you saying?— Yet he is not far wrong ! 
 
 And all that you know . . . 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I learnt from his lips alone, 
 
 And of most of it could even tell you how 
 
 And where and why he spoke of it. 
 
 SITTAH 
 
 So all 
 
 Is made more clear. So the whole soul learns at once. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Sittah also, I am sure, has read 
 
 Little or nothing. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 I do not pride myself • 
 
 On the contrary.— But why ? Speak boldly ! Why ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 She is sincere; is unaffected; is 
 
 Like no one but herself. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 And what of that ? 
 
KECHA. 
 
 Books seldom leave us so, my father says. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 O what a man your father is ! 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 Is he not ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How near he always comes to the mark! 
 
 EECHA. 
 
 Does he not ? — 
 And this father — 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What is it, love ? 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 This father— 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 You weep ? 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 And this father — Ah, I must speak or my heart will 
 break ! 
 
 {Throws herself weeping at Sittah'sfeet.) 
 
 ^SITTAH. 
 
 Child, what has happened ? Becha ? 
 
 KECHA, 
 
 This father I am — 
 To lose ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Lose him ? you? how so ? — Be calm ! — 
 That can never be ! — Eise! 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 'Twas not in vain 
 You offered to be my friend, my sister ! 
 
1 66 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 I am! 
 
 lam indeed ! — But rise ! else I must call 
 For help. 
 
 eecha {controlling herself and rising) . 
 Forgive me ! ah, forgive me ! — My grief 
 Made me forget for a moment who you are. 
 With Sittah avails no weeping, no despair. 
 Keason, cold calm reason, that alone 
 Can move her. Whose cause that pleads with her, he 
 wins ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What then? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 No, my friend, my sister, no ! 
 Do not suffer another father to be forced 
 Upon me. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Another father ? forced on you ? 
 Who can do it ? who can wish to do it, love ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Who ? My kind, my cruel Daya, she 
 Can wish it— can do it. — Yes, you do not know 
 This kind, this cruel Dava! God forgive — 
 Reward her ! She has done me so much good — 
 So much evil ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Evil to you ? — Then she can have 
 But little that is good in her. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Yes, much ! 
 Much that is good ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Who is she ? 
 
RECHA. 
 
 A Christian, who 
 In my childhood cared for me ! so cared for me ! — 
 You cannot think ! Who so little let me miss 
 A mother !— May God repay her for that ! —And yet 
 She has so frightened, so tortured me ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 About what? 
 Why ? and how ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah, the poor woman is, 
 As I said, a Christian; — must torture out of love. — 
 Is one of those enthusiasts who believe 
 That they have found the only way to God! . - . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Now I understand ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And feel compelled 
 To bring into that way all those who fail 
 To find it. — How can they do otherwise? 
 For if that way is the only one, how then 
 Can they look on unmoved and see their friends 
 Enter upon some other, — which must lead 
 To ruin, to eternal ruin ? So 
 Would it be possible at once to love 
 And hate the self-same person. — Nor is that 
 What has forced me to complain of her. Her signs, 
 Her warnings, her prayers, her threats I could have 
 
 borne, 
 Would gladly have borne ! for they always led to 
 
 thoughts 
 That were good and useful. And which of us, after 
 
 all, 
 Is not flattered to be loved so dearly by 
 Another, no matter whom, that he cannot bear 
 To think of losing us for ever ? 
 
1 68 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 True! 
 Very true ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 But this — this goes too far! To this 
 There is nothing I can oppose; no patience, no 
 Reflection; nothing! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Oppose to what? to whom? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 To what she has just disclosed to me, as she says. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Disclosed to you? just disclosed? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Only just now! 
 As we were on our way here, we drew near 
 A ruined Christian temple. All at once 
 She stood still, as if struggling with herself, 
 And with tearful eyes looked now towards heaven, 
 
 now 
 Towards me. "Come," she said to me at last, 
 ''Let us go through this temple; 'tis the shortest 
 
 path." 
 She went; I followed her, and gazed with awe 
 At the tottering walls around me, till again 
 She stood still, arid we found ourselves before* 
 The sunken steps of a crumbling altar. Think 
 How I felt, when weeping bitterly she fell 
 At my feet, wringing her hands . . . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Kind-hearted child ! 
 
NATHAN TUE WISE 169 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 And by the God who on that very spot 
 Had listened to so many prayers, performed 
 So many miracles, she entreated me, 
 With looks of true and heartfelt sympathy 
 Entreated me to have pity on myself! 
 Or at least to forgive her if she must disclose 
 The claims of her church upon me. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 ('Tis as I thought!— 
 Unhappy woman !) 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 I was of Christian blood; 
 Was baptized; was not Nathan's daughter; he was 
 
 not 
 My father !— Sittah ! Sittah ! see me again 
 At your feet . . . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Eecha! — My brother is coming! rise! 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 salai>in and the preceding . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What is this, Sittah ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Who is- she? 
 
 She is beside herself ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 SITTAH. 
 
 You know . . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Our Nathan's daughter ? 
 
 sittah. i ■ : .. ... . 
 
 Child, 
 
 Come to yourself ! — The Sultan . . . 
 
170 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I -will not rise I — 
 Will not look on the Sultan's face ! — will not behold 
 The reflection of eternal justice, of 
 Eternal goodness in his eyes, upon 
 His brow . . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Eise ! 
 
 BECHA. 
 
 Till he has promised me . . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Come ! I promise you ... no matter what ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Neither more nor lees than to leave my father to me 
 And me to him !— I know not yet who else 
 Would be my father. Nor do I wish to know. 
 Does blood alone make a father? blood alone? 
 
 saladin (raising her up). 
 I see how it is ! — Who was so cruel as 
 To speak to you — to you of such a thing? — 
 But is it certain ? is it fully proved ? 
 
 SECHA. 
 
 It must be ! For Daya had it from my nurse. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Your nurse ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Who in dying confided it to her. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Dying? — Having too, perhaps! — And what 
 
 If it be so? — Blood indeed, blood alone 
 
 Is far from making a father ! hardly makes 
 
 The father of a beast! at most but gives 
 
 The first right to earn that name! Do not be 
 
 afraid !— 
 Listen' to me ! As soon as two fathers strive 
 Whifth^shalhhave-you,— leave them both and take a 
 
 third!— 
 Take me for your father!. .J— >_ ;: i. . + 
 
SITTAH. 
 
 Oyes! do that! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I'll be a kind father, a very kind father ! — Stay ! 
 I've thought of something better. — What use have 
 
 you 
 For fathers ? How if they should die ? Look round 
 Betimes for some one who will vie with you 
 In living ! You know of no one ? . . . 
 
 8ITTAH. 
 
 Do not make her blush ! 
 
 8ALAD1N. 
 
 That is just what I most wish to do. A blush 
 
 Makes an ugly face so fair: will it not make 
 
 A beautiful face even more beautiful ? 
 
 I have asked your father Nathan to meet me here, 
 
 And some one else. Can you guess who it is ? — 
 
 You will 
 Allow me, Sittah ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Brother! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That I may see, 
 Sweet maiden, how you will blush before him. 
 
 KECHA. 
 
 Blush? 
 Before whom ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Little dissembler ! Grow pale, then U-± 
 As you will and can 1 
 
 . (A female slave enters and approaches sittah.) 
 r , __ They are not already there? 
 
 ... : sittah. --..-.-. ; ; ..-_...' 
 Let them enter l*-Ti& they, -brother ! . : :~ . - ■:. 2 
 
172 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 Last Scene. 
 
 nathan and the templar with the preceding. 
 SALADIN. 
 
 My dear kind friends! — 
 To you, Nathan, to you I must say first 
 You may send for your gold as soon now as you 
 like ! . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 'Tis my turn to serve you now . . • 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan ! . . . " 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 The caravan has come at last. 
 I am richer than I have been for a long, long while. — 
 Say what you need to do something great! You too, 
 You merchants, can never have more gold than you 
 want! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 "Why speak first of this trifle ? — I see there 
 An eye in tears that I long to wipe away. 
 
 (Goes up to RECHA.) 
 You have wept? What ails you? You^ are my 
 daughter still? :.... 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My father! ... 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 We understand each other. Enough ! — 
 Be content ! be calm ! If only your heart is still 
 Your own ! If only it fears no other loss ! 
 Your father you have not lost ! • 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 None, none beside ! 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 173 
 
 TEMPLAß. 
 
 None beside '? — I was mistaken then. 
 
 What we do not fear to lose we have never yet 
 
 Believed that we possessed, have never yet 
 
 Wished to possess. — Nathan, this changes all ! — 
 
 We came here, Saladin, at your command. 
 
 But I had misled you: trouble yourself no more ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 So rash again, young man ?— Is everything 
 
 To come to you unsought ? Is your every wish 
 
 To be divined beforehand ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You hear for yourself, 
 Sultan ! see for yourself ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 'Tis sad indeed 
 That you were not more sure ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I am sure now. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 He who presumes on a kindness takes it back. 
 What you rescued is not on that account your own; 
 Eise would the robber who through love of gain 
 Has braved the flames be a hero as well as you ! 
 {Going up to recha to lead her towards the templar.) 
 Come, dear maiden, come ! Do not be so hard 
 Upon him ! For if he were other than he is, 
 Less hasty, less proud, he might not have saved your 
 
 life. „ 
 You must set the one against the other. — Come ! 
 Put him to shame ! do what 'twas for him to do ! 
 Confess your love ! offer yourself to him ! 
 And if he scorns you, if he ever should 
 Forget how much more in this step yoiL have done 
 
 for him 
 
Than he for you. . . What has he done for you? 
 Only let himself be a little smoked ! — why then 
 There is nothing of my Assad in him ! then 
 'Tis his mask he bears, and not his heart ! Gome, 
 love, . . . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Go to him ! go, love, go ! 'Tis little enough 
 For your gratitude; 'tis nothing after all. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Hold, Saladin! hold, Sittah ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You too ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 There's another who mast speak here. . . 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who denies that ? 
 Such a foster-father, Nathan, as you have been, 
 Has a voice in the matter without doubt ! The first, 
 If you choose. — You see, I know everything. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not yet !— 
 I am not speaking of myself, but of 
 Another, whom I must beg you to hear first 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who is that? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Her brother ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Recha's brother ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My brother ? I have a brother ? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 175 
 
 templar (starting from his moody silence.) 
 Where is be ? where 
 Is this brother ? Not here yet ? I was to meet him 
 here. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Have patience ! 
 
 templar (with the utmost bitterness.) 
 He has found her a father: — will he find 
 No brother for her ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 This passes all the rest! 
 Christian ! a thought so base would not have crossed 
 My Assad's lips. — Go on as you have begun ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Forgive him ! — I forgive him ! — In bis place, 
 At his age, who can say what we too might hav e 
 thought ? 
 
 (Going up to the templar with a friendly air.) 
 Suspicion follows on mistrust, sir knight! — 
 If you had told me your real name at once. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You are no Stauffen ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Who am I then ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Your name is not Curd von Stauffen ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What is it then ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Leo von Filnek. 
 
176 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 How? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You start ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 With right ! 
 
 Who says so ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I, who have more to tell you yet. 
 But I do not accuse you of falsehood. 
 
 TEMPLAR, 
 
 You do not ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That name may be also yours. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So I should think ! 
 (Twas God bade him say that !) 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 For your mother — she 
 Was a Staunen. Her brother, your uncle, who 
 
 brought you up, 
 With whom your parents left you in Europe when 
 They returned to this land to seek a milder clime, — 
 His name was Curd von Stauffen; he may perhaps 
 Have adopted you as his son. — Has it been long 
 Since you came here with him ? Is he still alive ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What shall I say ? — Nathan ! — You are right ! 
 He is dead. As for me, I came here only with 
 The last reinforcement of our Order. — But what 
 Of Recha's brother ? what has that to do 
 With him? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 177 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Your father. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You knew him ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He was my friend. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Your friend, Nathan ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He bore the name of Wolf 
 Yon Filnek; but was no German. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You know that too ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He had only married a German; had only gone 
 For a short time with her to her native land. . . 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 No more, I beg you ! — But Recha's brother ? . . . 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You 
 
 Are her brother ! 
 
 Brother and sister ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 
 I? 
 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 
 He mj 
 
 r brother ? 
 
 - SITTAH. 
 
 
 
 They 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 
 Brother and sister ! 
 
 I 
 
1*8 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 recha (going towards him.) 
 
 Ah, 
 My brother! 
 
 templar (drawing back.) 
 Your brother! 
 
 recha (turning to Nathan.) 
 
 It cannot, cannot be ! 
 His heart knows nothing of it ! — O God! we are 
 Deceivers ! 
 
 SALADIN (tO the TEMPLAR.) 
 
 You think so ? can think so ? You are yourself 
 A deceiver ! Everything is false in you, 
 Face and voice and walk ! Nothing is yours ! 
 Not to acknowledge such a sister ! Go ! 
 
 templar (approaching him with deference.) 
 Do not mistake my silence, Sultan ! nor 
 In a moment such as your Assad never could 
 Have seen, judge wrongly of him as well as of me ! 
 
 (Going up quickly to Nathan.) 
 
 You take from me, Nathan, and you give me! both 
 
 With full hands ! — No ! you give more than you take ! 
 
 Infinitely more ! 
 
 (Embracing recha.) 
 
 My sister ! ah, 
 
 My sister ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Blanda von Filnek. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not Recha ? not 
 Your Recha? — God! you disown her! you give 
 
 her back 
 Her Christian name ! you disown her on my account! — 
 Why must she suffer for it, Natjian? she? 
 
NATHAN THE WISE 179 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Suffer for what ? — my children ! — for is not 
 My daughter's brother my child too — if he will be ? 
 ( While they embrace each oth er, saladin speaks to his 
 sister.) 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What say you, sister ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 I am moved . . .. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And I, 
 
 I almost shrink from the thought of what will be 
 More moving still ! Prepare for it as you can. 
 
 ( Turning to Nathan. ) 
 Nathau, a word with you ! 
 
 (As nathan approaches him, sittah goes up to the 
 brother and sister to express her sympathy, and 
 nathan and saladin speak in a low tone.) 
 Did you not say 
 That their father was no German ? was not born 
 A German? What was he then? Where was he 
 born? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He himself would never tell me what he was. 
 From him I heard nothing. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But he was no Frank ? 
 No European ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Oh, he owned as much ! — 
 He liked best to speak Persian ... 
 
i8o 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Persian ? What 
 Do I wish for more ? Tis he ! was he ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Was who ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 My brother ! my Assad ! I am sure of it ! 
 Quite sure ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Of what you have found out for yourself 
 Take then the assurance in this book ! 
 
 (Giving him the breviary.) 
 SALADIN (opening it eagerly). 
 Ah, his hand ! I recognise that too ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Still they know nothing ! Still it rests with you 
 Alone to say what they shall hear ! 
 
 sadadin (turning over the leaves). 
 
 I am not 
 To acknowledge my brother's children ? — my chil- 
 dren ? Not 
 To acknowledge them? I? Leave them perhaps 
 to you ? 
 
 (Aloud again.) 
 'Tis they ! 'tis they, Sittah, 'tis they ! They both 
 Are my brother's . . . your brother's children ! 
 (He rushes up to embrace them.) 
 
 sittah (following him). 
 
 What do I hear? 
 Yet could it fail to be ? — 
 
 SALADIN (To the templar). 
 
 Now, headstrong youth, 
 You must, must love me 1 
 
(to RECHA.) 
 
 Now I am in truth 
 What I offered to be, whether you will or not ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 I too! 
 
 saladin (turning again to the templar). 
 My son ! my Assad ! my Assad's son ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I of your kindred !— So those dreams with which 
 In childhood I was cradled were indeed 
 More, yes, more than dreams ! 
 
 (He falls at SALADiN's/ee^.) 
 
 saladin (raising him up). 
 
 The scapegrace ! See, 
 He knew something of this, and yet he would 
 Have let me murder him ! Only wait, though, wait ! 
 
 (As they all again silently embrace the curtain falls.) 
 

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