Scene III.

(The palm-trees before Nathan's house.)

The Templar, walking up and down.

TEMPLAR.

Into this house I never enter more:

He'll come to me at last. Yet, formerly,

They used to watch for me with longing eyes;

And now----The time may come he'll send to beg,

Most civilly, that I will get me hence,

And not pace up and down before his door!

No matter: though I feel a little hurt.

I know not what has thus embittered me:

He answered yes, and has refused me naught,

So far, and Saladin has pledged himself

To bring him round. Say, does the Christian live

Deeper in me than the Jew lurks in him?

Ah! who can truly estimate himself?

How comes it else that I should grudge him so

The trifling booty, which he took such pains

To rob the Christians of? No trifling theft!

No less than such a creature! And to whom

Does she belong? Oh, surely not to him,

The thoughtless slave, who floated the mere block

On to life's barren strand, then disappeared.

Rather to him, the artist, whose fine soul

Has from the block moulded this godlike form,

And graved it there. And yet in spite of him,

The Christian, who begot this beauteous maid,

Recha's true father must be still the Jew.

Were I to fancy her a Christian now,

Bereft of all the Jew has given to her--

Which only such a Jew could have bestowed--

Speak out, my heart--where would have been her charm'

It had been nothing--little; then her smile

Had been a pretty twisting of the mouth

And that which caused it were unworthy deemed

Of the enchantment blooming on her lips.

No: not her very smile! I've seen sweet smiles

Squandered on pride, on foppery, on lies,

On flatterers, on wicked wooers spent:

And did they charm me then? Did they awake

The wish to flutter out existence in

Their sunshine? And I'm angry now with him

Who gave this higher value to the maid?

And wherefore so? Do I deserve the taunt

With which I was dismissed by Saladin?

'Twas bad enough he should think thus of me.

How wicked, how contemptible, alas!

I must have seemed to him! And for a girl!

Conrad, this will not do. Avaunt such thoughts!

And what if Daja has been chattering

Of things not easy to be proved? But see,

He comes, engaged in converse; and with whom?

With him, the Friar. Then he knows all: perhaps

He has betrayed him to the Patriarch.

O Conrad! what vile mischief hast thou done!

O! that one spark of love, that wayward passion,

Should so inflame the brain! But, quick! resolve;

What's to be done? Stay, step aside awhile;

Perhaps the Friar will leave him. Let us see.

Scene IV.

Nathan and the Friar.

NATHAN (approaching him).

Good brother, once more, thanks.

FRIAR.

The same to you.

NATHAN.

Why thanks from you? Because I'm wayward, and

Would force upon you what you cannot use?

FRIAR.

The book you have did not belong to me.

It is the maid's, is all her property,

Her only patrimony--save yourself.

God grant you ne'er have reason to repent

Of what you've done for her!

NATHAN.

Impossible!

That cannot be. Fear not.

FRIAR.

Alas! alas!

These Patriarchs and Templars----

NATHAN.

Cannot work

Such evil as to force me to repent.

But are you sure it is a Templar who

Urges the Patriarch?

FRIAR.

It is none else;

A Templar talked with him just now, and all

I hear confirms the rumour.

NATHAN.

But there is

Only one Templar in Jerusalem,

And him I know. He is a friend of mine,

A noble, open-hearted youth.

FRIAR.

The same.

But what one is at heart, and what one must

Appear in active life, are not the same.

NATHAN.

Alas! 'tis true. And so let every one

Act as he will, and do his best, or worst.

With your book, brother, I defy them all!

I'm going straightway with it to the Sultan.

FRIAR.

Then God be with you! Here I take my leave.

NATHAN.

What! without seeing her? But come again,

Come soon--come often. If the Patriarch

To-day learns nothing. Well! no matter now!

Tell him the whole to-day, or when you will.

FRIAR.

Not I. Farewell! (Exit.)

NATHAN.

Do not forget us, brother!

O God! I could sink down upon my knees,

Here on this spot! Behold, the knotted skein

Which has so often troubled me, at last

Untangles of itself. I feel at ease,

Since henceforth nothing in this world remains

That I need hide. Henceforth, I am as free

Before mankind, as in the sight of God.

Who only does not need to judge us men

By deeds, which oftentimes are not our own.