TEMPLAR.
Stay, stay, who knows? Let’s hear.
NATHAN.
Who has accused me to his patriarch.
TEMPLAR.
Accused thee, no, that by his leave is false.
Nathan do hear me—I am not the man
Who would deny a single of his actions;
What I have done, I did. Nor am I one
Who would defend all he has done as right—
Why be ashamed of failing? Am I not
Firmly resolved on better future conduct?
And am I not aware how much the man
That’s willing can improve? O, hear me, Nathan—
I am the templar your lay-brother talked of—
Who has accused—You know what made me angry,
What set the blood in all my veins on fire,
The mad-cap that I was—I had drawn nigh
To fling myself with soul and body whole
Into your arms—and you received me, Nathan—
How cold, how lukewarm, for that’s worse than cold.—
How with words weighed and measured, you took care
To put me off; and with what questioning
About my parentage, and God knows what,
You seemed to answer me—I must not think on’t
If I would keep my temper—Hear me, Nathan—
While in this ferment—Daya steps behind me,
Bolts out a secret in my ear, which seemed
At once to lend a clue to your behaviour.
NATHAN.
How so?
TEMPLAR.
Do hear me to the end. I fancied
That what you from the Christians had purloined
You wasn’t content to let a Christian have;
And so the project struck me short and good,
To hold the knife to your throat till—