Part 125 (2/2)

You say well.

FRIAR.

Where is she now? She is not dead, I hope.

Let me not hear, I pray, that she is dead.

If no one else have found the secret out, All is yet safe.

NATHAN.

Indeed!

FRIAR.

Oh, Nathan, trust me.

This is my way of thinking: if the good That I propose to do is intertwined With mischief, then I let the good alone; For we know well enough what mischief is, But not what is the best. 'Twas natural, If you intended to bring up the child With care, that you should rear it as your own.

And to have done this lovingly and well, And be thus recompensed, is piteous.

It were perhaps more prudent, if the child Had been brought up by some good Christian's hand, In her own faith. But then you had not loved Your dear friend's orphan child; and children need Love--were it but the affection of a brute-- More at that age, than Christianity: There's always time enough for that: and if The maiden had grown up before your eyes, Healthy and pious, she had then remained The same as ever in her Maker's eyes.

For is not Christianity all built Upon the Jewish creed? Oh oft, too oft, It vexes me and costs me bitter tears, To think that Christians will so constantly Forget that Christ our Saviour was a Jew.

NATHAN.

Good brother, you shall be my advocate, When hate and bigotry shall frown on me, All for a deed--which you alone shall hear-- But take it with you to the tomb. As yet E'en vanity has never tempted me To breathe it to a soul; to you alone It shall be told; for simple piety Like yours can truly feel what man can do Who places his full confidence in G.o.d.

FRIAR.

You're moved, and your eyes run o'er with tears.

NATHAN.

At Daran 'twas you met me with the child.

You had not heard that, a few days before, The Christians murdered every Jew in Gath-- Woman and child. Amongst them was my wife-- Along with her, my seven hopeful sons.

All had sought shelter 'neath my brother's roof, And there were burnt alive.

FRIAR.

Just G.o.d!

NATHAN.

You came.

Three nights in dust and ashes I had lain Before my G.o.d and wept; and I at times Arraigned my Maker, raged, and cursed myself And the whole world together, and I swore Eternal hate to Christianity.

FRIAR.

Who can condemn you? I believe it well.

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