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Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts. Gotthold Ephraim LessingЧитать онлайн книгу.

Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts - Gotthold Ephraim Lessing


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dost thou think seduced me.

       The wish of having not to beg in future—

       The pride of acting the rich man to beggars—

       Would these have metamorphosed a rich beggar

       So suddenly into a poor rich man?

      NATHAN.

      No, I think not.

      HAFI.

      A sillier, sillier weakness,

       For the first time my vanity was tempter,

       Flattered by Saladin’s good-hearted notion—

      NATHAN.

      Which was?

      HAFI.

      That all a beggar’s wants are only

       Known to a beggar: such alone can tell

       How to relieve them usefully and wisely.

       “Thy predecessor was too cold for me,

       (He said) and when he gave, he gave unkindly;

       Informed himself with too precautious strictness

       Concerning the receiver, not content

       To leant the want, unless he knew its cause,

       And measuring out by that his niggard bounty.

       Thou wilt not thus bestow. So harshly kind

       Shall Saladin not seem in thee. Thou art not

       Like the choked pipe, whence sullied and by spurts

       Flow the pure waters it absorbs in silence.

       Al-Hafi thinks and feels like me.” So nicely

       The fowler whistled, that at last the quail

       Ran to his net. Cheated, and by a cheat—

      NATHAN.

      Tush! dervis, gently.

      HAFI.

      What! and is’t not cheating,

       Thus to oppress mankind by hundred thousands,

       To squeeze, grind, plunder, butcher, and torment,

       And act philanthropy to individuals?—

       Not cheating—thus to ape from the Most High

       The bounty, which alike on mead and desert,

       Upon the just and the unrighteous, falls

       In sunshine or in showers, and not possess

       The never-empty hand of the Most High?—

       Not cheating—

      NATHAN.

      Cease!

      HAFI.

      Of my own cheating sure

       It is allowed to speak. Were it not cheating

       To look for the fair side of these impostures,

       In order, under colour of its fairness,

       To gain advantage from them—ha?

      NATHAN.

      Al-Hafi,

       Go to your desert quickly. Among men

       I fear you’ll soon unlearn to be a man.

      HAFI.

      And so do I—farewell.

      NATHAN.

      What, so abruptly?

       Stay, stay, Al-Hafi; has the desert wings?

       Man, ’twill not run away, I warrant you—

       Hear, hear, I want you—want to talk with you—

       He’s gone. I could have liked to question him

       About our templar. He will likely know him.

      Nathan and Daya. Daya (bursting in).

      O Nathan, Nathan!

      NATHAN.

      Well, what now?

      DAYA.

      He’s there.

       He shows himself again.

      NATHAN.

      Who, Daya, who?

      DAYA.

      He! he!

      NATHAN.

      When cannot He be seen? Indeed

       Your He is only one; that should not be,

       Were he an angel even.

      DAYA.

      ’Neath the palms

       He wanders up and down, and gathers dates.

      NATHAN.

      And eats?—and as a templar?

      DAYA.

      How you tease us!

       Her eager eye espied him long ago,

       While he scarce gleamed between the further stems,

       And follows him most punctually. Go,

       She begs, conjures you, go without delay;

       And from the window will make signs to you

       Which way his rovings bend. Do, do make haste.

      NATHAN.

      What! thus, as I alighted from my camel,

       Would that be decent? Swift, do you accost him,

       Tell him of my return. I do not doubt,

       His delicacy in the master’s absence

       Forbore my house; but gladly will accept

       The father’s invitation. Say, I ask him,

       Most heartily request him—

      DAYA.

      All in vain!

       In short, he will not visit any Jew.

      NATHAN.

      Then do thy best endeavours to detain him,

       Or with thine eyes to watch his further haunt,

       Till I rejoin you. I shall not be long.

      Scene.—A Place of Palms.

      The Templar walking to and fro, a Friar following him at some distance, as if desirous of addressing him.

      TEMPLAR.

      This fellow does not follow me for pastime.

       How skaunt he eyes his hands! Well, my good brother—

       Perhaps I should say, father; ought I not?

      FRIAR.

      No—brother—a lay-brother at your service.

      TEMPLAR.

      Well, brother, then; if I myself had something—

       But—but, by God, I’ve nothing.

      FRIAR.

      Thanks the same;

       And God reward your purpose thousand-fold!

       The will, and not the deed, makes up the giver.

       Nor was I sent to follow you for alms—

      TEMPLAR.

      Sent then?

      FRIAR.

      Yes, from the monastery.

      TEMPLAR.

      Where

       I was just now in hopes


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