Strange! how is this? what wills the sultan of me?
I came prepared with cash—he asks truth. Truth?
As if truth too were cash—a coin disused
That goes by weight—indeed ’tis some such thing—
But a new coin, known by the stamp at once,
To be flung down and told upon the counter,
It is not that. Like gold in bags tied up,
So truth lies hoarded in the wise man’s head
To be brought out.—Which now in this transaction
Which of us plays the Jew; he asks for truth,
Is truth what he requires, his aim, his end?
That this is but the glue to lime a snare
Ought not to be suspected, ’twere too little,
Yet what is found too little for the great—
In fact, through hedge and pale to stalk at once
Into one’s field beseems not—friends look round,
Seek for the path, ask leave to pass the gate—
I must be cautious. Yet to damp him back,
And be the stubborn Jew is not the thing;
And wholly to throw off the Jew, still less.
For if no Jew he might with right inquire—
Why not a Mussulman—Yes—that may serve me.
Not children only can be quieted
With stories. Ha! he comes—well, let him come.
SALADIN (returning).
So, there, the field is clear, I’m not too quick,
Thou hast bethought thyself as much as need is,
Speak, no one hears.
NATHAN.
Might the whole world but hear us.
SALADIN.
Is Nathan of his cause so confident?
Yes, that I call the sage—to veil no truth,
For truth to hazard all things, life and goods.
NATHAN.
Aye, when ’tis necessary and when useful.
SALADIN.