The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing Part 82

NATHAN.

And why incredible? Would you reject This story, Daja, as so oft is done, To fix on something more incredible, And credit that? Why should not Saladin, To whom his race are all so dear, have loved In early youth a brother now no more?

Since when have features ceased to be alike?

Is an impression lost because 'tis old?

Will the same cause not work a like effect?

What, then, is so incredible? My Daja, This can to you be no great miracle; Or does a wonder only claim belief When it proceeds from you?

DAJA.

You mock me, Nathan!

NATHAN.

Nay, 'tis the very tone you use yourself.

And yet, dear Recha, your escape from death Remains no less a miracle Of Him who turns the proud resolves of kings To mockery, or guides them to their end By the most slender threads.

RECHA.

O father, father!

My error is not wilful, if I err.

NATHAN.

No, I have ever found you glad to learn.

See, then, a forehead vaulted thus or thus, A nose of such a shape, and brows that shade The eye with straighter or with sharper curve, A spot, a mole, a wrinkle, or a line-- A nothing--in an European's face, And you are saved in Asia from the flames!

Is that no wonder, wonder-seeking folk?

What need to summon angels to your aid?

DAJA.

But, Nathan, where's the harm,--if I may speak-- In thinking one was rescued by an angel Rather than by a man? Are we not brought Thus nearer to the first mysterious cause Of our life's preservation?

NATHAN.

Pride, rank pride!

The iron pot would with a silver tongs Be lifted from the furnace, to believe Itself a silver vase! Well! where's the harm?

And "where's the good?" I well may ask in turn.

Your phrase, "It brings you nearer to the first Mysterious cause!" is nonsense--if 'tis not Rank blasphemy:--it works a certain harm.

Attend to me. To him who saved your life, Whether he be an angel or a man, You both--and you especially--should pay Substantial services in just return.

Is not this true? Now, what great services Have you the power to render to an angel!

To sing his praise--to pour forth sighs and prayers-- Dissolve in transports of devotion o'er him-- Fast on his vigil, and distribute alms?

Mere nothings! for 'tis clear your neighbour gains Far more than he by all this piety.

Not by your abstinence will he grow fat, Nor by your alms will he be rendered rich; Nor by your transports is his glory raised, Nor by your faith in him his power increased.

Say, is not all this true? But to a man----

DAJA.

No doubt a man had furnished us with more Occasions to be useful to himself; G.o.d knows how willingly we had seized them!

But he who saved her life demanded nought; He needed nothing--in himself complete And self--sufficient--as the angels are;

RECHA.

And when at last he vanished----

NATHAN.

How was that?

Did he then vanish? 'Neath yon spreading palms Has he not since been seen? Or have you sought Elsewhere to find him?

DAJA.

No, in truth we've not.

NATHAN.

Not sought him, Daja? Cold enthusiasts!

See now the harm: suppose your angel stretched Upon a bed of sickness!

DAJA.

Sickness, what!

RECHA.

A chill creeps over me. I shudder, Daja!

My forehead, which till now was warm, becomes As cold as very ice; come, feel it, Daja.

NATHAN.

He is a Frank, unused to this hot clime, Young and unpractised in his order's rules, In fastings and in watchings quite untrained.

RECHA.

Sick! sick!

DAJA.

Your father means 'twere possible.

NATHAN.

Friendless and penniless, he may be lying Without the means to purchase aid.

RECHA.

Alas!

NATHAN.