Scene V.

Nathan (_who is presently joined by the_ Templar).

NATHAN.

I almost shrink from meeting this strange fellow-- Recoil from his rough virtue! That one man Should ever make another feel confused! But see, he comes! he seems a noble youth; Looks like a man. I like his daring eye, His honest gait. Although the shell is bitter, The kernel may not be so. I have seen One like him somewhere. Pardon, noble Frank----

TEMPLAR.

What would you?

NATHAN.

Pardon me----

TEMPLAR.

What would you, Jew?

NATHAN.

The privilege of speaking to you.

TEMPLAR.

Well! How can I help it? Quick, then--what's your wish?

NATHAN.

Patience! nor pass with such contempt and pride One who must be your debtor evermore.

TEMPLAR.

How so? I almost guess. No; are you then----

NATHAN.

My name is Nathan, father to the maid Your generous courage rescued from the flames. I come to----

TEMPLAR.

If you come to render thanks, Spare them. I have already been compelled To bear too many thanks for this small act. Besides, you owe me nothing. Could I know The maiden was your daughter? I was bound-- It is a Templar's duty--to assist All who need succour; and my life just then Was a mere burden. It was a relief To risk it for another, even though The task were to preserve a Jewess' life.

NATHAN.

Great--great yet horrible--I understand The turn. The modest greatness will assume The hideous mask to ward off gratitude. But though he may disdain our proffer'd thanks, Is there no other tribute we can pay? Sir Knight! if you were not a stranger here, And not a pris'ner, I were not so bold. But, come, what service can I render you?

TEMPLAR.

You!--nothing.

NATHAN.

I am rich.

TEMPLAR.

The richer Jew Was ne'er in my esteem the better Jew.

NATHAN.

Is that a reason why you should not use The better part of him--his wealth?

TEMPLAR.

Well, well, I'll not refuse it wholly, for the sake Of my poor mantle; when it is well worn, And spite of darning will not hold together, I'll come and borrow cloth or gold of you, To make a new one. Nay, Sir, do not start; The danger is not pressing--'tis not yet Quite worthless; it is sound, and strong, and good. Save in one corner, where an ugly spot Is singed, and that is from a burn it got When I bore off your daughter from the fire.

NATHAN (_taking hold of the mantle_).

'Tis strange, indeed, that such a spot as this Should bear far better witness to the man Than his own lips. This spot! Oh, I could kiss it. Your pardon, Sir, in truth, I meant it not!

TEMPLAR.

What?

NATHAN.

'Twas a tear that fell.

TEMPLAR.

Well, 'tis no matter. 'Tis not the first. (This Jew doth puzzle me.)

NATHAN.

Would you but send this mantle to my daughter!

TEMPLAR.

Why?

NATHAN.

That she, too, may press it to her lips; For at her benefactor's feet to fall She now may hope in vain.

TEMPLAR.

But, Jew, your name? Tis Nathan, is it not? You choose your words With skill--I am confused. I did not think

NATHAN.

Feign, Templar, and dissemble as you may, I see the truth. I see your generous heart, Too honest and too good to be polite. A grateful girl, all feeling, and her maid Swift to obey--a father far from home, You valued her fair fame, and would not see her. You scorned to tempt lest you should victor prove. For this too I must tender you my thanks.

TEMPLAR.

You know at least how Templars _ought_ to feel.

NATHAN.

Why Templars only? and why ought to feel? Is it because your rules and vows enjoin These duties to _your order_? Sir, I know How good men all should feel, and know as well That every country can produce good men.

TEMPLAR.

You'll make distinctions?

NATHAN.

Yes, in colour, form, And dress, perhaps.

TEMPLAR.

Ay, and in number too-- Here more--there less.

NATHAN.

The difference is not much. Great men, like trees, have ever need of room; Too many set together only serve To crush each other's boughs. The middling sort, Like us, are found in numbers, they abound; Only let not one scar and bruise the other, Let not the gnarl be angry with the stump, Let not the upper branch alone pretend Not to have started from the common earth.

TEMPLAR.

Well said. And yet what nation was the first To scatter discord 'mongst their fellow-men? To claim the title of "the chosen people?" How now if I were not to hate them, but To scorn this upstart nation, for their pride? That pride which it bequeathed to Mussulman And Christian, as if God were theirs alone. You start to hear a Christian and a Templar Talk thus. But when and where has all this rage, This pious rage, to win the better God, And force this better God on all the world, Shown itself more, or in a blacker form, Than here, and now? Who here, who now retains The blinding scales upon his eyes--and yet Let him be blind who will!--forget my words, And leave me (_is going_).

NATHAN.

Templar! you but little know How closer henceforth I shall cling to you. We must, we must be friends. Despise my people-- We did not choose a nation for ourselves. Are we our nation's? What then is a nation? Were Jews or Christians such, ere they were men? Ah! would that I had found in you one man To whom it were enough to be a man.

TEMPLAR.

Thou hast so, Nathan! Yes, by Heaven, thou hast. Thy hand. I blush to have mistaken thee.

NATHAN.

Now I feel proud. 'Tis only common souls In whom we seldom err.

TEMPLAR.

Uncommon ones We do not oft forget. Nathan, we must, We must be friends.

NATHAN.

We are so. And my Recha Will now rejoice. How bright the prospect grows That dawns upon me! If you did but know her.

TEMPLAR.

I grow impatient, Nathan. But who now Comes from your house? Methinks it is your Daja.

NATHAN.

Yes, and her look how full of care! God grant----

TEMPLAR.

That nothing may have chanced to our Recha!