The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing Part 104

Most surely not.

'Twas rather playing with the game.

AL-HAFI.

And yet The stakes were high.

NATHAN.

A trifle to the Sultan!

Money is nought to him. It is not that Which galls, but not to hear Al-Hafi out-- Not to admire his comprehensive glance, His eagle eye--'tis that demands revenge.

Say, am I right?

AL-HAFI.

I only tell this tale That you may know how much his head is worth.

But I am weary of him. All the day I am running round to every wretched Moor To borrow--money for him--I who ne'er Ask for myself, am now obliged to sue For others--and, according to my creed, To borrow is to beg, as, when you lend Your money upon usury, you steal.

Among my Ghebers on the Ganges' sh.o.r.es I shall need neither; there I shall not be The tool or pimp of any; there alone Upon the Ganges honest men are found.

You, Nathan, you alone of all I see Are worthy on the Ganges' banks to live.

Then come with me; leave him the wretched gold That he would strip you of--'tis all he wants.

Little by little he will ruin you; 'Tis better to be quit of all at once; Come, then, and I'll provide you with a staff.

NATHAN.

Nay, that resource will still remain for us As a last refuge. But I'll think of it.

AL-HAFI.

Nay, ponder not upon a thing like this.

NATHAN.

Then stay till I have seen the Sultan. Stay Till I have bid farewell.

AL-HAFI.

The man who stays To hunt for motives, to search reasons out, Who cannot boldly and at once resolve To live a free man's life, must be the slave Of others till his death. But as you please.

Farewell! my path is here, and yours is there!

NATHAN.

But stay, Al-Hafi! till you have arranged The state accounts.

AL-HAFI.

Pah! Nathan, there's no need; The balance in the chest is quickly told, And my account, Sittah, or you, will vouch.

Farewell! (_Exit_.)

NATHAN (_looking after him_).

Yes, I will vouch it, honest, wild-- How shall I call him? Ah! the real beggar Is, after all, the only real king. (_Exit at opposite side_.)

ACT III.

Scene I.--_A room in_ Nathan's _house_.

Recha, Daja.

RECHA.

Well, Daja, did my father really say "That I might instantly expect him here?"

That surely meant that he would come at once, And yet how many minutes have rolled by!

But I'll not dwell upon the moments gone, I'll only live in those that are to come, That one which brings him here must come in time.

DAJA.

But for the Sultan's ill-timed messenger Nathan had brought him hither.

RECHA.

When he comes-- Oh! when this dearest of my inmost hopes Shall be fulfilled--what then--what then?

DAJA.

What then?

Why then I trust the wish most dear to me Will also be fulfilled.

RECHA.

And in its place What wish shall take possession of my breast?

Which now forgets to heave, unless it pant With some fond wish? Will nothing come? I shudder!

DAJA.

My wish shall then supplant the one fulfilled, My wish to see you borne to Europe's sh.o.r.es By hands well worthy of you.

RECHA.

You do err.

The very thought which makes you form this wish Forbids it to be mine. Your native land Attracts you, and has mine no charm for me?

Shall a remembrance of your cherished home, Your absent kindred and your dearest friends, Which years and distance have not yet effaced, Rule in your soul with softer, mightier sway Than what I know, and hear, and feel of mine.

DAJA.

'Tis vain to struggle, for the ways of Heaven Are still the ways of Heaven. And who can say If he who saved your life may not be doomed, Through his G.o.d's arm, for whom he n.o.bly fights.