Truly, a noble title!
Yet, Sultan, ere I trust myself with thee,
Wholly and unreserved, I ask thee first
To hear a fable from me.
Saladin
Wherefore not?
From childhood I have ever loved to hear
Fables, well told.
Nathan
Well told? ah, that indeed
Is scarce a quality of mine!
Saladin
Again
So proudly modest? Well, speak on, speak on!
Nathan
In the grey morn of Time, there lived i’ the East
A man, who owned a ring of priceless worth,
Gift of a well-loved hand. For stone it bore
An opal, where a hundred lovely tints
Played, and where dwelt the magic power to make
Well-pleasing in the sight of God and man
Whoever wore it in this faith—What wonder
It never left the owner’s hand? what wonder
He made provision to retain it ever
In his own House, an heirloom for all time?
Thus did he order it: He left the Ring
First to his best-belovèd son, ordaining
That he in turn should leave it to the son
He dearliest loved; and so to the dearest ever.
And still the owner of the Ring, apart
From precedence of birth, by that alone
Should bear the sway.... Sultan, you follow me?
Saladin