Part 108 (1/2)

True, Sittah! 'twill afford me rare delight.

SITTAH.

What, then, need trouble you? For if he be, Like all his nation, a mere cozening Jew, You need not blush, if you appear to him No better than he deems all other men.

But if to him you wear a different look, You'll be a fool--his dupe!

SALADIN.

So I must, then, Do ill, lest bad men should think ill of me.

SITTAH.

Yes, brother, if you call it doing ill To put a thing to its intended use.

SALADIN.

Well, there is nothing woman's wit invents It cannot palliate----

SITTAH.

How, palliate?

SALADIN.

Sittah, I fear such fine-wrought filagree Will break in my rude hand. It is for those Who frame such plots to bring them into play.

The execution needs the inventor's skill.

But let it pa.s.s.--I'll dance as best I can-- Yet sooner would I do it ill than well.

SITTAH.

Oh, brother, have more courage in yourself!

Have but the will, I'll answer for the rest.

How strange that men like you are ever p.r.o.ne To think it is their swords alone that raise them.

When with the fox the n.o.ble lion hunts, 'Tis of the fellows.h.i.+p he feels ashamed, But of the cunning, never.

SALADIN.

Well, 'tis strange That women so delight to bring mankind Down to their level. But, dear Sittah, go; I think I know my lesson.

SITTAH.

Must I go?

SALADIN.

You did not mean to stay?

SITTAH.