HKB
HAFI.
Hi ho! of him—of Nathan? At that moment He did not come across me. But, in fact, He is at length come home; and, I suppose, Is not ill off. His people used to call him The wise—also the rich.
SITTAH.
The rich he’s named Now more than ever. The whole town resounds With news of jewels, costly stuffs, and stores, That he brings back.
HAFI.
Is he the rich again— He’ll be, no fear of it, once more the wise.
SITTAH.
What thinkst thou, Hafi, of a call on him?
HAFI.
On him—sure not to borrow—why, you know him— He lend? Therein his very wisdom lies, That he lends no one.
SITTAH.
Formerly thon gav’st A very different picture of this Nathan.
HAFI.
In case of need he’ll lend you merchandise, But money, money, never. He’s a Jew, There are but few such! he has understanding, Knows life, plays chess; but is in bad notorious Above his brethren, as he is in good. On him rely not. To the poor indeed He vies perhaps with Saladin in giving: Though he distributes less, he gives as freely, As silently, as nobly, to Jew, Christian, Mahometan, or Parsee—’tis all one.
SITTAH.
And such a man should be—
SALADIN.
How comes it then I never heard of him?
SITTAH.
Should be unwilling To lend to Saladin, who wants for others, Not for himself.
HAFI.
Aye, there peeps out the Jew, The ordinary Jew. Believe me, prince, He’s jealous, really envious of your giving. To earn God’s favour seems his very business. He lends not that he may always have to give. The law commandeth mercy, not compliance: And thus for mercy’s sake he’s uncomplying. ’Tis true, I am not now on the best terms With Nathan, but I must entreat you, think not That therefore I would do injustice to him. He’s good in everything, but not in that— Only in that. I’ll knock at other doors. I just have recollected an old Moor, Who’s rich and covetous—I go—I go.
SITTAH.
Why in such hurry, Hafi?
SALADIN.
Let him go.
SALADIN and SITTAH.
SITTAH.
He hastens like a man who would escape me; Why so? Was he indeed deceived in Nathan, Or does he play upon us?
SALADIN.
Can I guess? I scarcely know of whom you have been talking, And hear to-day, for the first time, of Nathan.
SITTAH.
Is’t possible the man were hid from thee, Of whom ’tis said, he has found out the tombs Of Solomon and David, knows the word That lifts their marble lids, and thence obtains The golden oil that feeds his shining pomp?
SALADIN.
Were this man’s wealth by miracle created, ’Tis not at David’s tomb, or Solomon’s, That ’twould be wrought. Not virtuous men lie there.
SITTAH.
His source of opulence is more productive And more exhaustless than a cave of Mammon.
SALADIN.
He trades, I hear.
SITTAH.
His ships fill every harbour; His caravans through every desert toil. This has Al-Hafi told me long ago: With transport adding then—how nobly Nathan Bestows what he esteems it not a meanness By prudent industry to have justly earned— How free from prejudice his lofty soul— His heart to every virtue how unlocked— With every lovely feeling how familiar.
SALADIN.
Yet Hafi spake just now so coldly of him.
SITTAH.
Not coldly; but with awkwardness, confusion, As if he thought it dangerous to praise him, And yet knew not to blame him undeserving, Or can it really be that e’en the best Among a people cannot quite escape The tinges of the tribe; and that, in fact, Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan? Be that as’t may—be he the Jew or no— Is he but rich—that is enough for us.
SALADIN.
You would not, sister, take his wealth by force.
SITTAH.
What do you mean by force—fire, sword? Oh no! What force is necessary with the weak But their own weakness? Come awhile with me Into my harem: I have bought a songstress, You have not heard her, she came yesterday: Meanwhile I’ll think somewhat about a project I have upon this Nathan. Follow, brother.