The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing Part 123

SALADIN.

Well send for her.

SITTAH.

Brother, may I do that?

SALADIN.

But hurt not Nathan.

He must not think that we, by violence, Would separate them.

SITTAH.

Fear it not.

SALADIN.

Farewell!

I must find out where this Al-Hafi is.

Scene VI.

_The hall in_ Nathan's _house, looking towards the palm-trees, as in the first Act. Part of the merchandise and treasures unpacked and displayed_.

Nathan _and_ Daja.

DAJA.

O, how magnificent are all these things!

How rich! they're such as none but you could give.

Where was this silver stuff with sprigs of gold Woven? What might it cost? 'Tis what I call A wedding garment. Is there any queen Could wish aught richer?

NATHAN.

Why a wedding robe?

DAJA.

In buying it, you never thought of that.

But, Nathan, it must be so--it must, indeed-- 'Twas made for that. See, here, the pure white ground, Emblem of innocence; that branching gold, Covering the virgin white on every side, Emblem of wealth. Say, is it not divine?

NATHAN.

Why all this ingenuity of speech?

Over whose wedding dress would you display This learning? Have you found a lover, Daja?

DAJA.

What, I?

NATHAN.

Who, then?

DAJA.

I, gracious Heaven?

NATHAN.

Who, then?

Whose wedding garment would you speak of, Daja?

All this is yours, 'tis meant for no one else.

DAJA.

What, mine! for me! I thought it was for Recha.

NATHAN.

No, what I bought for her is elsewhere packed; 'Tis in another bale. But, come, away With all this rubbish.

DAJA.

Nathan, tempt me not, For were these things the very costliest In all the world, I'll touch not one of them Till you have sworn to seize a happy chance Which Heaven ne'er offers twice.

NATHAN.

What happy chance?

What must I seize?

DAJA.

Nathan, feign not such ignorance.

But, in one word--the Templar loves your Recha-- Give her to him, and then your sin, which I Can hide no longer, will for ever cease.

The maid will then once more resume her place Amongst the Christians, will again become What she was born to, and what once she was; And you, whom we can never thank enough For all your goodness, will not then have heaped More burning coals of fire upon your head.

NATHAN.

Still harping on the same old string again, New tuned, but neither to accord nor hold.

DAJA.

How so?

NATHAN.