The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing Part 119

Zeal in the cause of G.o.d impels me on, And all excesses are performed for Him.

Weigh that in kindness, then, most n.o.ble Sir!

But, tell me, was your case about the Jew A problem merely?

TEMPLAR.

Problem! (_He retires_.)

PATRIARCH.

(Of the facts, I must have fuller knowledge. I must be Better informed; 'twill be another job For brother Bonafides.) Son, come hither!

(_Speaks with the_ Friar _as he retires_.)

Scene III.

Saladin's _Palace_.

(_Slaves are employed in bringing bags of gold, and piling them on the floor_.)

Saladin, Sittah.

SALADIN.

In truth, this weary business ne'er will end; Say, is it nearly done?

A SLAVE.

One half is done.

SALADIN.

Then take the rest to Sittah? Where's Al-Hafi?

He must take charge of what is here. But, hold, Were it not best to send it to my father?

Here 'twill be quickly spent. I feel, in truth, That I am growing miserly. At last He must be skilful who gets much from me, And till from Egypt further treasure comes, Our poverty must be content to struggle.

Yet, at the Holy Sepulchre, the cost Of all the Christian pilgrims must be paid; They must, at least, not go with empty hands.

SITTAH.

Why, what is this? wherefore this gold to me?

SALADIN.

Recoup yourself with it, if aught is left, Keep it in store.

SITTAH.

Are Nathan and the Knight Not yet arrived?

SALADIN.

The former everywhere Is seeking him.

SITTAH.

Behold what I have found In turning o'er my ornaments and jewels (_showing a small portrait_).

SALADIN.

Ha! what is here! a portrait! yes, my brother!

'Tis he--'tis he! _Was_ he--_was_ he, alas!

Oh dear, brave youth! so early lost to me!

With thee at hand what had I not achieved!

Give me the portrait, Sittah. I recall This picture well. He gave it to his Lilla-- Your elder sister--when one summer morn He tore himself away reluctantly.

She would not yield, but clasped him in her arms.

'Twas the last morning that he e'er rode forth, And I, alas! I let him ride alone.

Poor Lilla died of grief, and ne'er forgave My error that I let him ride alone.

He ne'er returned.

SITTAH.

Poor brother!

SALADIN.

Say no more.

A few short years, and we shall ne'er return.

And then who knows? But 'tis not death alone That blights the hopes and promises of youth, They have far other foes, and oftentimes The strongest, like the weakest, is o'ercome.

But be that as it may, I must compare This portrait with the Templar, that I may Observe how much my fancy cheated me.

SITTAH.

'Twas for that purpose that I brought it here.

But give it, and I'll tell thee if 'tis like: We women are best judges of such things.

SALADIN (_to the doorkeeper who enters_).

Who's there? the Templar? Bid him come at once.

SITTAH.

Not to disturb you, or perplex him with My curious questions, I'll retire awhile. (_Throws herself upon the sofa, and lets her veil fall_.)

SALADIN.

That's well. (And now his voice--will that be like?

For a.s.sad's voice still slumbers in my soul!)

Scene IV.