Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

cheating—thus to ape from the Most High

      The bounty, which alike on mead and desert,

      Upon the just and the unrighteous, falls

      In sunshine or in showers, and not possess

      The never-empty hand of the Most High?—

      Not cheating—

NATHAN

         Cease!

HAFI

         Of my own cheating sure

      It is allowed to speak.  Were it not cheating

      To look for the fair side of these impostures,

      In order, under colour of its fairness,

      To gain advantage from them—ha?

NATHAN

         Al-Hafi,

      Go to your desert quickly.  Among men

      I fear you’ll soon unlearn to be a man.

HAFI

      And so do I—farewell.

NATHAN

         What, so abruptly?

      Stay, stay, Al-Hafi; has the desert wings?

      Man, ’twill not run away, I warrant you—

      Hear, hear, I want you—want to talk with you—

      He’s gone.  I could have liked to question him

      About our templar.  He will likely know him.

Nathan and DayaDaya (bursting in)

      O Nathan, Nathan!

NATHAN

         Well, what now?

DAYA

            He’s there.

      He shows himself again.

NATHAN

         Who, Daya, who?

DAYA

      He! he!

NATHAN

         When cannot He be seen?  Indeed

      Your He is only one; that should not be,

      Were he an angel even.

DAYA

         ’Neath the palms

      He wanders up and down, and gathers dates.

NATHAN

      And eats?—and as a templar?

DAYA

         How you tease us!

      Her eager eye espied him long ago,

      While he scarce gleamed between the further stems,

      And follows him most punctually.  Go,

      She begs, conjures you, go without delay;

      And from the window will make signs to you

      Which way his rovings bend.  Do, do make haste.

NATHAN

      What! thus, as I alighted from my camel,

      Would that be decent?  Swift, do you accost him,

      Tell him of my return.  I do not doubt,

      His delicacy in the master’s absence

      Forbore my house; but gladly will accept

      The father’s invitation.  Say, I ask him,

      Most heartily request him—

DAYA

         All in vain!

      In short, he will not visit any Jew.

NATHAN

      Then do thy best endeavours to detain him,

      Or with thine eyes to watch his further haunt,

      Till I rejoin you.  I shall not be long.

      Scene.—A Place of Palms

      The Templar walking to and fro, a Friar following him at some distance, as if desirous of addressing him.

TEMPLAR

      This fellow does not follow me for pastime.

      How skaunt he eyes his hands!  Well, my good brother—

      Perhaps I should say, father; ought I not?

FRIAR

      No—brother—a lay-brother at your service.

TEMPLAR

      Well, brother, then; if I myself had something—

      But—but, by God, I’ve nothing.

FRIAR

         Thanks the same;

      And God reward your purpose thousand-fold!

      The will, and not the deed, makes up the giver.

      Nor was I sent to follow you for alms—

TEMPLAR

      Sent then?

FRIAR

         Yes, from the monastery.

TEMPLAR

            Where

      I was just now in hopes of coming in

      For pilgrims’ fare.

FRIAR

         They were already at table:

      But if it suit with you to turn directly—

TEMPLAR

      Why so?  ’Tis true, I have not tasted meat

      This long time.  What of that?  The dates are ripe.

FRIAR

      O with that fruit go cautiously to work.

      Too much of it is hurtful, sours the humours,

      Makes the blood melancholy.

TEMPLAR

         And if I

      Choose to be melancholy—For this warning

      You were not sent to follow me, I ween.

FRIAR

      Oh, no: I only was to ask about you,

      And feel your pulse a little.

TEMPLAR

            And you tell me

      Of that yourself?

FRIAR

         Why not?

TEMPLAR

            A deep one! troth:

      And has your cloister more such?

FRIAR

            I can’t say.

      Obedience is our bounden duty.

TEMPLAR

         So—

      And you obey without much scrupulous questioning?

FRIAR

      Were it obedience else, good sir?

TEMPLAR

         How is it

      The simple mind is ever in the right?

      May you inform me who it is that wishes

      To know more of me?  ’Tis not you yourself,

      I dare be sworn.

FRIAR

         Would it become me, sir,

      Or