initial commit of ebook 33435HEADmain

10 files changed, 65172 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/33435-8.txt b/33435-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3556d35
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33435-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,21548 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing, by 
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing
+       Miss Sara Sampson, Philotas, Emilia Galotti, Nathan the Wise
+
+Author: Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+Contributor: Helen Zimmern
+
+Translator: Ernest Bell
+
+Release Date: August 15, 2010 [EBook #33435]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF LESSING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+1. Page scan source:
+   http://books.google.com/books?id=BPQIAAAAQAAJ&pg
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Lessing.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           THE DRAMATIC WORKS
+
+                                   OF
+
+                             G. E. LESSING.
+
+
+                      Translated from the German.
+
+
+
+                               EDITED BY
+                           ERNEST BELL, M.A.,
+                      TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
+
+
+
+                 WITH A SHORT MEMOIR BY HELEN ZIMMERN.
+
+
+
+           _MISS SARA SAMPSON_, _PHILOTAS_, _EMILIA GALOTTI_,
+                           _NATHAN THE WISE_.
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON:
+                   GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET,
+                             COVENT GARDEN.
+                                 1878.
+
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON:
+                  PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES ANB SONS,
+                   STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
+
+
+
+
+                                PREFACE.
+
+
+A Translation of some of Lessing's works has long been contemplated for
+'Bonn's Standard Library,' and the publishers are glad to be able to
+bring it out at a time when an increased appreciation of this writer
+has become manifest in this country.
+
+The publication of Mr. Sime's work on Lessing, and the almost
+simultaneous appearance of Miss Helen Zimmern's shorter but probably
+more popular biographical study, will, without doubt, tend to spread
+amongst English-speaking people a knowledge of a writer who is held in
+peculiar reverence by his own countrymen; and there is little, if
+anything, of what he wrote that does not appeal in some way or other to
+the sympathies of Englishmen.
+
+In this translation it is purposed to include the most popular of his
+works--the first two volumes comprising all the finished dramatic
+pieces, whilst the third will contain the famous 'Laokoon,' and a large
+portion of the 'Hamburg Dramaturgy' (here called 'Dramatic Notes'), and
+some other smaller pieces.
+
+The arrangement of the plays is as follows:--The first volume contains
+the three tragedies and the "dramatic poem," 'Nathan the Wise.' This
+last piece and 'Emilia Galotti' are translated by Mr. R. Dillon Boylan,
+whose English versions of Schiller's 'Don Carlos,' Goethe's 'Wilhelm
+Meister,' &c., had previously distinguished him in this path of
+literature.
+
+The second volume will be found to consist entirely of comedies,
+arranged according to the date of composition; and as it happens that
+all these comedies, with the exception of the last and best, 'Minna von
+Barnhelm,' were written before he published any more serious dramatic
+composition, we have, by reversing the order of the first two volumes,
+an almost exactly chronological view of Lessing's dramatic work. The
+later section of it has been placed at the commencement of the series,
+simply because it was more convenient to include in it the introductory
+notice which Miss Zimmern kindly consented to write.
+
+York Street, Covent Garden.
+      _June_ 1878.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+      Memoir
+
+      Miss Sara Sampson
+
+      Philotas
+
+      Emilia Galotti
+
+      Nathan The Wise
+
+
+
+
+                                LESSING.
+
+
+Since Luther, Germany has produced no greater or better man than
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing; these two are Germany's pride and joy.
+
+This is the witness of Heine, and with Goethe in memory, none would
+pronounce the statement too bold. Luther and Lessing are Germany's
+representative men; each inaugurates an epoch the very existence of
+which would not have been possible without him. Nor is this the only
+point of analogy. Lessing was the Luther of the eighteenth century.
+Like Luther, Lessing is distinguished by earnestness, ardour, true
+manliness, fierce hatred of dissimulation, largeness of mind, breadth,
+and profundity of thought. Like Luther, he stands in history a massive
+presence whereon the weak may lean. Like Luther, he led the vanguard of
+reform in every department of human learning into which he penetrated.
+Like Luther, he was true to every conviction, and did not shrink from
+its expression. Like Luther, he could have said, "I was born to fight
+with devils and storms, and hence it is that my writings are so
+boisterous and stormy." Like Luther, he became the founder of a new
+religion and of a new German literature. And again, like Luther, his
+life labours were not for Germany alone, but spread over all Europe;
+and few of us know how much of our present culture we owe directly or
+indirectly to Lessing's influence.
+
+In this country he has not been sufficiently known. Up to the present,
+his name has been familiar to Englishmen only as the author of the
+'Laokoon,' 'Nathan the Wise,' and, possibly also, of 'Minna von
+Barnhelm.' In knowing these, we certainly know the names of some of his
+masterpieces, but we cannot thence deduce the entire cause of the man's
+far-spreading influence.
+
+Fully to understand Lessing's influence, and fully to understand the
+bearing of his works, some slight previous acquaintance with German
+literature is absolutely requisite. For unless we comprehend the source
+whence an author's inspirations have sprung, we may often misconceive
+his views. And Lessing's writings, above all, essentially sprang from
+the needs of his time. The subject is a large one, and can only be
+briefly indicated here; but we venture to remark, for those whose
+interest may be aroused in the subject of this volume, that the fuller
+their knowledge of the man and the motive force that evoked his works,
+the keener will be their enjoyment of these works themselves.
+
+In naming Lessing, Goethe, and Schiller, we utter the three greatest
+names that German literature can boast. And between the three runs a
+connecting link of endeavour; the efforts of none can be conceived
+without the efforts of the others; but Lessing was the leader. He was
+the mental pathfinder who smoothed the way for Goethe's genius, and
+prepared the popular understanding for Schiller, the poetical
+interpreter of Kant.
+
+Lessing was born in the early years of the eighteenth century, at a
+time therefore when Germany may be said practically to have had no
+literature. For the revival of learning, the interest in letters that
+arose with the Reformation, and had been fostered by the emancipating
+spirit of Protestantism, had been blighted and extinguished by the
+terrible wars that ravaged the country for thirty years, impoverishing
+the people, destroying the homesteads and farms, and utterly
+annihilating the mental repose needful to the growth and to the just
+appreciation of literature. Books were destroyed as relentlessly in
+those sad times as flourishing cornfields were down-trodden by the iron
+heel of the invader. It was a fearful period of anarchy and
+retrogression, under the baneful effects of which Germany still
+labours. Peace was at last restored in 1648 by the Treaty of
+Westphalia, but it found the nation broken in spirit and vigour, and
+where material needs entirely absorb the mental energies of a people
+the Muses cannot flourish. And not only was the spirit of the people
+broken by the war, their national feeling seemed totally extinct. The
+bold fine language wherewith Luther had endowed them was neglected and
+despised by the better classes, who deemed servile imitation of the
+foreigner the true and only criterion of good taste. It grew, at last,
+to be held quite a distinction for a German to be unable to speak his
+own language correctly, and it seems probable that but for the
+religious utterances of the hymn-writers, who thus provided the poor
+oppressed people with ideal consolations, the very essence of the
+language, in all its purity, might have perished. It is among these
+hymn-writers that we must seek and shall find the finest, truest, and
+most national expressions of that time. Shortly before Lessing's birth
+there had awakened a sense of this national degradation, and some
+princes and nobles formed themselves into a society to suppress the
+fashionable Gallicisms and reinstate the people's language. Their
+efforts met with some little success, but their powers were too
+limited, and their attempts too artificial and jejune to exert any
+considerable influence either in the direction of conservation or of
+reform. It needed something stronger, bolder, to dispel the apathy of a
+century. Still these associations, known as the two Silesian schools,
+bore their part in sowing the good seed, and though most of it fell on
+stony ground, because there was little other ground for it whereon to
+fall, still some fell on fruitful earth, and brought forth in due
+season. An excessive interest in French literature was opposed by an
+equal interest in English literature. The adherents of these two
+factions formed what was known as the Swiss and Leipzig schools. They
+waged a fierce paper warfare, that had the good effect of once more
+attracting popular attention to the claims of letters, as well as
+showing the people that in French manners, French language, and French
+literature, the Alpha and Omega of culture need not of necessity be
+sought. The leader of the Leipzig faction, who stood by the French, was
+Gottsched, a German professor of high pretensions and small merits, who
+put his opponents on their mettle by his pedantic and arrogant attacks.
+He had instituted himself a national dictator of good taste, and for a
+long time it seemed probable that he and his party would triumph. His
+ultimate defeat was accomplished by Lessing, whose early boyhood was
+contemporaneous with the fiercest encounters of these antagonists. It
+was he who gave the death-blow to their factious disputes, and referred
+the nation back to itself and its own national glory and power. He
+found Germany without original literature, and, before his short life
+was ended, the splendid genius of Goethe shed its light over the land.
+Who and what was the man who effected so much?
+
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing was born on the twenty-second of January,
+1729, at Camentz, a small town in Saxony, of which his father was head
+pastor. For several generations Lessing's ancestors had been
+distinguished for their learning, and with few exceptions they had all
+held ecclesiastical preferment. The father of Gotthold Ephraim was a
+man of no inconsiderable talents and acquirements. His upright
+principles, breadth of vision and scholarly attainments, made him a
+venerated example to his son, with whom he maintained through life the
+most cordial relationship, though the son's yet more enlightened
+standpoint came to transcend the comprehension of the father. Their
+first divergence occurred on the choice of a profession. It had been
+traditional among the Lessings that the eldest son should take orders,
+and accordingly Gotthold Ephraim was silently assumed to be training
+for the ministry. He was sent for this end, first to the Grammar-school
+of his native town, then to a public school at Meissen, and finally to
+the University of Leipzig. At Meissen he distinguished himself in
+classical studies, and attempted some original German verses. He
+outstripped his compeers, and before he had accomplished his
+curriculum, the rector recommended his removal, inasmuch as he had
+exhausted the resources of the school. At Leipzig he appeared to turn
+his back on study. He deserted the class-rooms of the theologians and
+was the more constant attendant instead at the theatre, at that time
+the _bête noire_ of all who affected respectability, and decried loudly
+by the clergy as a very hotbed of vice. News of their son's haunts
+reached the dismayed parents. They urged him to abandon his courses,
+that could only end in mental and moral destruction. In vain the son
+represented to them that he had lived in retirement too long, that he
+now wished to become acquainted with the world and men, and that he
+held the theatre to be a popular educator. In vain he represented that
+he did attend the philosophical courses of Professors Kaestner,
+Ernesti, and Christ. He was a playgoer, and what was still worse, he
+was a play-writer, for the directress of the Leipzig Theatre, Frau
+Neuber, a woman, of great taste and intelligence, had put on the stage
+Lessing's juvenile effort, 'The Young Scholar.' Nay more, he associated
+with a notorious freethinker, Mylius, and in concert with him had
+contributed to various journals and periodicals. And meanwhile the
+magistracy of Camentz was allowing Lessing a stipend on condition of
+studying theology. It was too much. His son was neglecting the _dic cur
+hic_, and to obviate this the father recalled him home by a stratagem,
+informing him that his mother was dying and desired once more to see
+her son. The _ruse_, intended also as a test of Lessing's filial
+obedience, succeeded in so far as to prove that this was at least
+unshaken; but his parents urged in vain that he should abandon his evil
+ways. He once more expressed with great decision his disinclination
+towards a theological career. But he was also firmly resolved to be no
+longer a burden to his parents, whose large family was a great drain on
+their resources. He determined to follow Mylius, who had gone to Berlin
+in the capacity of editor, convinced that a good brain and steadfast
+will would force their own way in the world.
+
+Accordingly Lessing settled in Berlin in 1748, a youth of barely twenty
+years, prepared to fight a hand-to-hand struggle for existence.
+Frederick the Great at that time ruled in Prussia, and his capital was
+in ill repute as a hotbed of frivolity and atheism. If anything could
+be worse in the parents' eyes than their son's attendance at the
+theatre, it was his presence at Berlin. They urged his return home. He
+refused respectfully but decidedly. He had found employment that
+remunerated him. Voss's _Gazette_ had appointed him literary editor, he
+wrote its critical feuilletons, and here he had the first opportunity
+of attacking the Swiss and Leipzig factions, and of exposing the
+absurdities of both schools. He was able to teach himself Spanish and
+Italian, he translated for the booksellers, he catalogued a library;
+and while thus earning his livelihood _tant bien que mal_, he
+indirectly prosecuted his studies and enlarged his knowledge of
+literature and life. For at Berlin he was not forced to associate only
+with books, he also came in contact with intellectual men, his views
+expanded, his judgment became sure. A volume of minor poems that he
+published in 1751 excited attention.
+
+The essays he contributed to Voss's _Gazette_ gave him notoriety on
+account of their independent spirit, their pregnant flashes of
+originality and truth. This unknown youth ventured alone and
+unsupported to attack Gottsched's meretricious writings, and so
+successfully that even the vain dictator trembled, and the rival
+schools asked each other who was this Daniel that had come to judgment?
+With pitiless subtlety he exposed the crudity, the inflation of
+Klopstock's 'Messiah,' which at that time one half the world extolled,
+the other half abused, while he alone could truly distinguish in what
+respects the poem fell short of its pretensions to be a national epic,
+and where its national importance and merit really lay.
+
+For two years Lessing remained at Berlin; busy years, in which he
+scattered these treatises teeming with discernment and genius. Then at
+the end of that time he felt himself exhausted, he craved seclusion, in
+which he could once more live for himself and garner up fresh stores of
+knowledge. The city and his numerous friends were too distracting. So
+one day he stole away without previous warning and installed himself in
+the quiet university town of Wittenberg. At Wittenberg he spent a year
+of quiet study. The University library was freely opened to him, and he
+could boast that it did not contain a book he had not held in his
+hands. Wittenberg: being chiefly a theological university, Lessing's
+attention was principally attracted to that subject, and he here laid
+the foundations of the accurate knowledge that was in after years to
+stand him in great stead. When he had exhausted all that Wittenberg
+could offer, he one day (1752) reappeared at Berlin as unexpectedly as
+he had quitted it, and quickly resumed his old relations there, which
+proved as busy and significant as before. Lessing again maintained
+himself by authorship, but this time his productions were riper. He
+published several volumes of his writings. They contained treatises
+composed at Wittenberg, Rehabilitations (_Rettungen_) of distinguished
+men, whom he held the world had maligned, as well as several plays,
+among which were the 'Jews,' 'The Woman-hater,' 'The Freethinker,' 'The
+Treasure,' as well as the fragmentary play 'Samuel Henzi,' a novel
+attempt to treat of modern historical incidents on the stage. A
+somewhat savage attack, entitled 'Vade mecum,' in which he criticised
+unsparingly a certain Pastor Lange's rendering of 'Horace,' drew upon
+Lessing the attention of the learned world, and since he was in the
+right in his strictures, they regarded him with mingled fear and
+admiration. His renewed criticisms in Voss's _Gazette_ further
+maintained his reputation as a redoubtable critic.
+
+These were happy, hopeful years in Lessing's life; he enjoyed his work,
+and it brought him success. He had, moreover, formed some of the
+warmest friendships of his life with the bookseller Nicolai and the
+philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. With the former he discoursed on English
+literature, with the latter, on ĉsthetic and metaphysical themes. Their
+frequent reunions were sources of mental refreshment and invigoration
+to all three. What cared Lessing that his resources were meagre, he
+could live, and his father was growing more reconciled now that men of
+established repute lauded his son's works. Together with Mendelssohn,
+Lessing wrote an essay on a theme propounded by the Berlin Academy,
+'Pope a Metaphysician!' that did not obtain the prize, as it ridiculed
+the learned body which had proposed a ridiculous theme, but it
+attracted notice.
+
+In the year 1755 Lessing wrote 'Miss Sara Sampson,' a play that marks
+an epoch in his life and in German literature. It was the first German
+attempt at domestic drama, and was, moreover, written in prose instead
+of in the fashionable Alexandrines. The play was acted that same year
+at Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, and Lessing went to superintend in person.
+Its success was immense, and revived Lessing's love for the stage,
+which had rather flagged at Berlin from want of a theatre there. He
+accordingly resolved on this account to remove to Leipzig again, and
+disappeared from Berlin without announcing his intention to his
+friends.
+
+At Leipzig he once more lived among the comedians, and carried on a
+lively correspondence with Mendelssohn on the philosophical theories of
+the drama in general, with especial reference to Aristotle. A proposal
+to act as travelling companion to a rich Leipzig merchant interrupted
+this life. The pair started early in the year 1756, intending a long
+absence that should include a visit to England. The trip, however, did
+not extend beyond Holland, as the Seven Years' War broke out. Prussian
+troops were stationed at Leipzig, and this caused Lessing's companion
+to desire return. Return they accordingly did, Lessing waiting all the
+winter for the resumption of their interrupted project. But as the
+prospects of peace grew more distant, their contract was annulled, much
+to Lessing's regret, and also to his severe pecuniary loss. He found
+himself at Leipzig penniless, the theatre closed by the war, and
+interest in letters deadened from the same cause. He contrived,
+however, to maintain himself by hack-work for the booksellers; but it
+was a dismal time, not devoid, however, of some redeeming lights. The
+poet Von Kleist was then stationed at Leipzig, and with him Lessing
+formed a friendship that proved one of his warmest and tenderest. On
+the removal of Kleist to active service, Lessing determined to quit
+Leipzig, which had grown distasteful to him in its military hubbub. In
+May 1758 he once more appeared at Berlin, and fell into his former
+niche. He worked at his 'Fables,' wrote a play on the Greek models,
+'Philotas,' began a life of Sophocles, and edited and translated
+several works of minor importance. But the chief labour of the period
+was the establishment of a journal dealing with contemporary
+literature. It was to be written tersely, as was suited to a time of
+war and general excitement; and to connect it with the war, it was
+couched in the form of letters purporting to be addressed to an officer
+in the field, who wished to be kept acquainted with current literature.
+Kleist was certainly in Lessing's mind when he began. The letters were
+to be written by Mendelssohn, Nicolai, and Lessing, but nearly all the
+earlier ones are from Lessing's pen. The papers made a great mark, from
+their bold strictures and independence. They did not belong to either
+of the recognised coteries, plainly placing themselves on a footing
+outside and above them. Though they were issued anonymously, Lessing
+was now sufficiently known, and it was not long before they were
+universally attributed to him. Their peculiar merit was that they did
+not merely condemn the contemporary productions, but showed the way to
+their improvement. They are throughout written with dialectic
+brilliancy, vigour, and lively wit, so that they are classics to this
+day, although their immediate themes are long removed from our
+interests From these 'Letters Concerning Contemporary Literature' our
+modern science of criticism may be said to date. After this, works were
+no longer merely judged by ancient standards, but by their application
+to the demands of the age in which they were written.
+
+The news of Kleist's death affected Lessing severely, and so broke down
+his energies that he felt the imperative need of a change of scene. He
+therefore accepted an offer to act as secretary to General Tauentzien,
+who had been appointed Governor of Breslau. He followed him to that
+city in 1760, hoping to find renewed energies in a fixed employment
+that gave him good emolument and left him free time for self-culture.
+
+Lessing remained at this post for nearly five years, until the
+conclusion of the Seven Years' War, and though his letters of that
+period are very scanty, and though he gained evil repute at Breslau as
+a gambler and a tavern haunter, they were really the busiest and most
+studious years of his life. Here he read Spinoza and the Church
+Fathers, studied ĉsthetics and Winckelmann's newly issued 'History of
+Art,' wrote his 'Minna von Barnhelm,' and the 'Laokoon.' Their
+publication did not occur till his return to Berlin after the peace of
+Hubertsburg, when Lessing threw up his appointment, greatly to the
+dismay of his family, who had reckoned on it as a permanent resource.
+But Lessing had had enough of soldiers and military life, he had
+exhausted all they could teach him, and he craved to resume his
+studious and independent existence. He did not like it on resumption so
+well as he had thought he should at a distance. Restlessness seized
+him. He wanted to travel; to see Italy. His friends desired an
+appointment for him as royal librarian. He applied for the post, and
+was kept for some time in uncertainty. He failed, however, owing to
+Frederick's dislike to German learned men, and it was in vain that
+Lessing's friends pleaded that he was anything but the typical German
+pedant, uncouth, unkempt, who was Frederick's _bête noire_. To prove
+his efficiency for the post, Lessing had published his 'Laokoon.' He
+published it as a fragment, and, like too many of Lessing's works, it
+never grew beyond that stage.
+
+But _torso_ as it is, its influence has been far spreading. The science
+of ĉsthetics was in its infancy when Lessing wrote. Pedantic and
+conventional rules were laid down regarding beauty, and the greatest
+confusion of ideas existed concerning the provinces and limits of the
+respective arts. Poetry and painting were treated as arts identical in
+purpose and scope; indeed each was advised to borrow aid from the
+resources of the other. Simonides' dictum that "Painting is silent
+poetry, and poetry eloquent painting," was regarded as an
+incontrovertible axiom. Winckelmann's lately published 'History of Art'
+had supported this view of the matter; a point of view that encouraged
+allegorical painting and didactic poetry. The 'Laokoon' strove to
+expose the radical error of this idea, as its second title, 'or the
+boundaries of Poetry and Painting,' proves. The conclusions established
+by the 'Laokoon' have become to-day the very groundwork of cultured art
+criticism, and though the somewhat narrow scope of its ĉsthetic theory
+has been extended, the basis remains untouched and unshaken. The book
+is of as much value now as upon its first appearance. Its luminous
+distinctions, its suggestive utterances, point the way to exact truth,
+even where they do not define it. Like the celebrated Torso of the
+Vatican, it can be made an object of constant study, and every fresh
+investigation will reveal new beauties, new subtle traits of artistic
+comprehension hitherto overlooked.
+
+This work, so grand and ultimately fruitful, fell, nevertheless, very
+flat on its first issue, and only gradually assumed the position that
+was its due. It had indeed to educate its public, so new were the
+principles it enunciated. Three years after its publication, Lessing
+told a friend that hardly any one seemed to know at what goal he had
+aimed in his 'Laokoon.' Critics arose in plenty, but their criticism
+was of such a character that Lessing, usually so combative, did not
+hold them worthy of a reply. Little wonder, therefore, that even the
+discerning Frederick did not recognise the value of its author, and
+finally decided against Lessing's appointment as royal librarian.
+
+In November 1766 Lessing describes himself as standing idly in the
+market-place waiting for hire. He was discontented with his
+surroundings, eager to find himself in a wider and more congenial
+mental atmosphere than that of Berlin, uncertain whither to turn, and
+hampered by money difficulties, private debts and family demands. At
+this juncture an invitation from Hamburg reached him, which at the
+first aspect seemed to open out a future peculiarly suited to Lessing's
+tastes and idiosyncrasies. An association of rich burghers had
+conceived the idea of founding a national theatre, which, liberally
+endowed, and thus removed from the region of pecuniary speculation,
+could devote itself exclusively to the cultivation of high art, and
+thus raise the national standard of taste. A dramatic critic and
+adviser was to belong to the establishment, and this post was offered
+to Lessing with a salary of 800 thalers. He accepted with alacrity, and
+repaired to Hamburg in the confidence of having at last found a niche
+well suited to his capacity. At the worst, he had nothing to lose and
+everything to gain by this step, and he gladly turned his back on
+Berlin, now distasteful to him. He hoped to throw himself once more
+into dramatic labours, and to find himself in contact with the living
+stage. Only too speedily his hopes were destined to disappointment. He
+had not been long at Hamburg before, notwithstanding all his power of
+illusion, he could not disguise from himself the fact that the project
+that sounded so noble and disinterested really rested on no higher
+basis than that of miserable stage cabals.
+
+Before issuing the first number of his paper, the 'Hamburger
+Dramaturgie,' a critical journal, which was to accompany the art of the
+author and actor throughout the representations, he already knew that
+the project begun with such high hopes must end in a miserable
+_fiasco_. Still he set to work upon his journal undauntedly, determined
+that it should, as far as it lay in his power, serve the purposes of
+the drama and instruct the populace as to the full import and aim of
+this noble art. The paper was a weekly one, the criticisms, therefore,
+had the merit of being thoroughly thought out and digested, not written
+like our modern theatrical criticisms under the very glare of the
+foot-lights. Lessing analysed the plays and their performance; he
+pointed out not only where, but why actors had erred; his sure
+perception and accurate knowledge of stage routine made him an
+invaluable guide to the performers. His criticisms, had they been
+continued, would have laid the basis of a science of histrionics, but
+unhappily for the world, the wretched vanity of the _artistes_, some of
+whom he had ventured gently to condemn, caused him to desist from this
+portion of his criticism. He confined himself solely to the play
+performed. After a while, however, even this did not suffice; bad
+management, stage cabals, private jealousy, and clerical intrigues, had
+undermined the slender popularity of the theatre. Before the end of its
+first year, the house saw itself forced to close its doors, thanks to
+creditors and to the rival and superior attractions of a company of
+French comedians. It is true the German troupe returned in the spring
+to make a final effort, but this also proved a failure; the debts were
+only increased, and the throng of creditors who besieged the box-office
+was so great that the public could not have entered if it had tried. In
+November (1768) the theatre finally closed its doors.
+
+_Transeat cum cĉteris erroribus_, was Lessing's comment on the event.
+He was the poorer by another hope, and not only poorer in spirit but in
+fact. The promised salary had not been paid, the sale of his rich
+library would not suffice for his debts and needs, and he had moreover
+hampered himself with a printing-press that only helped yet more to
+cripple his means. His position was a sorry one. Literary work was once
+more his only resource. It happened that he had from the first been in
+arrears with his journal, first advisedly, then from a tendency to
+procrastination that befell him whenever the first white heat of
+interest had been expended. He now determined to continue it, employing
+it as a vehicle for his own opinions under the cover of criticisms of
+the national theatre, which he still hoped against hope might not be
+utterly defunct.
+
+The 'Dramaturgy' is the permanent result of this shipwrecked
+undertaking, itself a fragment--for after a while Lessing wearied of
+it, and piratical reprints robbed him of the slender profit--but a
+fragment like the 'Laokoon,' full of suggestive truths and flashes of
+elucidation. As an entire work it is not as homogeneous in design as
+the 'Laokoon'; no connected or definite thread of reasoning pervades
+it, its perusal requires more independent thought from the reader, who
+must form his own conclusions, they are not worked out before him as in
+the 'Laokoon.' But in its ultimate results it is no less valuable, and
+has been no less effective. It freed the German stage from bondage to
+French pseudo-classicisms by its scornful exposure of the perversions
+practised by the Gallic authors under the cloak of Aristotelian laws.
+Lessing showed the divergence between real and absolute, and fanciful
+and perverted rules. He pointed out how the three unities insisted on
+by the French had been often violated by them in the spirit if not in
+the letter. He demonstrated the real meaning of Aristotle; and enabled,
+by his exact classical knowledge, to place himself on the actual
+stand-point of the ancients, he exposed the meretricious imitations of
+the French, that had been too long passed off as genuine. He referred
+the Germans to Shakespeare as a far truer follower of Sophocles than
+Voltaire or Corneille, and he illustrated his conclusions by excerpts
+and digressions remote from the subject presumed to be under treatment,
+and which had first started this train of thought. Until now the French
+had prescribed the sole standard of good taste. Lessing wished to
+destroy this unthinking veneration, and lead his nation back to the
+true sources of inspiration, and he fought with an iconoclastic zeal
+against all distortions, and all confusions of ĉsthetic boundaries. In
+a measure, indeed, the 'Dramaturgy' supplements the 'Laokoon', for in
+the latter work Lessing had distinctly referred to the drama as the
+highest expression of poetry, and he had placed poetry above the arts
+of design in its results and capacities. Once more he displays his
+subtlety in discriminating between the various constituents of the
+complex feelings produced by art, and his rare faculty of combining
+ĉsthetic sensibility with logical criticism constitutes one of his
+grand claims to originality. The 'Dramaturgy' must be regarded rather
+as a collection of [Greek: epea pteroenta], than a systematic book.
+This remark applies, indeed, to all Lessing's prose writings.
+
+The 'Dramaturgy' was not the only work that occupied Lessing at
+Hamburg. A certain Professor Klotz had been for some time past
+attacking Lessing's writings, and had done this in a spirit of arrogant
+superiority that roused his ire. A remark that Lessing had been guilty
+of "an unpardonable fault," in an archaeological matter, wherein Klotz
+himself was plainly in error, brought matters to a crisis, and drew
+down on Klotz a series of 'Letters treating of Antiquarian Subjects,'
+that utterly demolished both the man and his conclusions. A private
+feud gave occasion to this publication, but, like all that Lessing
+wrote, it is full of matter of permanent worth. Cameos and engraved
+gems form the ground-work of the controversy that was waged fast and
+furiously for some months, until at last Lessing silenced his
+adversary. The archaeological studies that it necessitated had awakened
+afresh Lessing's artistic interests and provoked the charming little
+essay, 'How the Ancients represented Death,' that starting as a polemic
+against Klotz, ended in becoming a finished and exquisite whole.
+
+About this time (1772) Lessing received encouragement from Vienna to
+settle in the Austrian dominions, but as the offers concerned the
+theatre he declined compliance, still feeling sore from his late
+experiences. The old desire to visit Italy was once more uppermost, his
+restless activity had exhausted the slender intellectual resources of
+Hamburg. But he was once more hampered by money difficulties. He
+vacillated for a while between remaining and leaving, and finally
+accepted an appointment at the Brunswick Court as librarian of the
+Wolfenbüttel Library, with the proviso that this appointment should not
+permanently interfere with his projected Italian journey. His salary
+was to be 600 thalers, with an official residence; his duties were
+undefined. The Duke, who recognised Lessing's eminence, wished to
+attach him to his Court, and desired that Lessing should use the
+library for his personal convenience rather than as its custodian. The
+post promised well, though Lessing entered on it with reluctance; his
+love of freedom causing him at any time to shrink from any definite
+appointment. He loved, as he himself expressed it, to be like the
+sparrow on the housetops, but considerations hitherto unknown
+contributed to induce him to seek a settled post and establish his
+affairs on a more permanent basis than heretofore. The wish to marry
+had become awakened in him at the mature age of forty; he had made the
+acquaintance in Hamburg of a Madame Koenig, a widow, the first woman
+who had seriously roused his interest. Business complications of her
+late husband's and the charge of a family made union impossible for
+some little time, but Lessing had not been long at Wolfenbüttel before
+a formal engagement was entered upon whose ultimate fulfilment it was
+confidently expected would not be too long deferred. It was deferred,
+however, for the space of six years--years that were the weariest and
+saddest in Lessing's life, and mark the only time when his healthful
+optimism, his sanguine cheerfulness broke into complaint and yielded to
+depression of mind. Physical causes were at work as well as mental.
+Wolfenbüttel was an old deserted capital, devoid of society, and
+Lessing, who loved to mingle with his fellow-creatures, saw himself
+banished from any intelligent human intercourse, unless he undertook
+the somewhat expensive journey to Brunswick. At Hamburg he had lived in
+an active and intellectual circle; here he found himself thrown back
+upon himself and books. His heart and thoughts were with Madame Koenig,
+her business affairs went badly; their rare meetings only further
+strengthened his desire to claim as his own this the only woman who
+understood him and felt with him. The promised leave of absence, too,
+for Italy, was constantly deferred under futile pretexts, and thus
+depressed, dispirited, Lessing could not feel within himself the
+capability of original production. At the same time he did not feel it
+right or wise to neglect the resources placed within his reach by the
+excellent library of which he was custodian; he ransacked its
+manuscript treasures, and published some of them. He also in a brief
+period of renewed happiness and mental vigour, that followed a visit to
+Hamburg and a meeting with Madame Koenig, wrote his famous tragedy
+'Emilia Galotti.'
+
+This drama is an illustration of the principles enunciated by Lessing
+in his 'Dramaturgy;' its condensation is a protest against the
+verbosity of the French, its form an approach to Shakespeare; while its
+tendency is a stricture on the abuses practised at petty Courts. The
+latter was a bold innovation, considering that at the time Lessing
+wrote and produced this play he was himself the servant of a Court,
+enlightened and liberal it is true, but libertine and despotic; and
+that parallels could not fail to be drawn by the malevolent between
+Brunswick and Guastalla. The story is a modernised version of that of
+Virginia, but the catastrophe is not equally harmonious, because not so
+absolutely necessitated by the conditions of modern society as by those
+of the ancient world. Still the play is in many respects inimitable;
+the manner in which the story is developed and unravelled renders it a
+model to young dramatists; nothing superfluous, nothing obscure, no
+needless retrogressions, no violent transitions. Lessing's
+contemporaries were not slow to recognise that he had presented them
+with a master-piece. He himself after its completion had sunk back into
+his former mood of irritated depression, and he would not even be
+present at the first representation. This mood was in great part
+physical, but was also the result of circumstances. He was anxious and
+uneasy. The hereditary prince had held out hopes to him, but their
+fulfilment was too long deferred; Madame Koenig's affairs grew more and
+more involved, the solitude of Wolfenbüttel more and more arid.
+
+At last his restless spirit could brook this position no longer.
+Heedless of Madame Koenig's warning prayers not to bring matters to an
+abrupt crisis, to have patience with the Court whose financial position
+at the time was truly a sorry one, Lessing one day broke away from
+Wolfenbüttel and appeared at Berlin, whence he applied for an extended
+leave of absence to Vienna, where Madame Koenig's business had lately
+required her presence. He reassures her that he has not burnt his ships
+behind him, and this was true, but he wished to ascertain for himself
+how matters stood with her, and also if there was, any opening for him
+in that capital. He arrived at Vienna in March 1775, and found Madame
+Koenig's affairs so far advanced towards settlement as to justify him
+in entertaining hopes of a speedy union.
+
+But the evil fortune that seemed to run like a fatal thread through
+Lessing's life whenever he found himself near the fulfilment of an
+ardent desire again asserted itself. He had not been ten days in Vienna
+before one of the younger princes of the house of Brunswick arrived
+there also on his way to Italy. He wished to have Lessing as his
+travelling companion. Thus a long cherished desire was to be realised
+at the moment when a far stronger one had usurped its place. Lessing
+debated for some time what he should do, but on consideration with
+Madame Koenig, it was decided to be unwise to offend the prince whose
+earnest wish for Lessing's companionship was supported by the Empress
+Maria Theresa, and moreover the projected journey was only to extend
+over eight weeks; consequently the parting and delay would be brief,
+while the ultimate consequences of having obliged the ducal house at
+personal inconvenience might be incalculable. The journey extended to
+nine months, and was a period of misery to Lessing. He never received a
+line from Madame Koenig all this time, her letters having all
+miscarried, thanks to the officious zeal of her Vienna acquaintances,
+and he tortured himself with fears lest she were ill or dead. Neither
+did he write to her, nor keep a diary, beyond the very briefest records
+of some discoveries in libraries. Not a word about the art, the scenery
+of the land he had so craved to see. He perceived quickly enough that
+it could offer all, and more than he had anticipated, but, added to his
+private anxieties, this travelling in the suite of a prince was not
+propitious to the proper enjoyment of Italy. Receptions, formal
+dinners, deputations, at all of which Lessing had to be present,
+engrossed the precious time that should have been devoted to more
+intellectual pursuits.
+
+_Transeat cum cĉteris erroribus_, Lessing might again have written when
+he returned to Germany in December. He hastened to Vienna to learn news
+of his beloved, and there a whole packet of her letters were put into
+his hands--those letters the want of which had preyed upon his heart.
+He was now more fully determined than ever to bring matters to a
+crisis; if the Brunswick Court would not improve his position he would
+seek employment elsewhere; at the very worst he could not fare worse
+than he was at present faring. His resolution triumphed, his salary was
+raised, his position improved, and on the 8th of October, 1776, he was
+at last united to the woman of his choice.
+
+Then followed a very heyday of happiness to Lessing; he was at last
+content, at peace; his wife understood him and felt with him; she was
+his stay, his pride, his joy. But once more the evil fate was at work,
+and could not permit of ease to this poor victim she pursued so
+relentlessly. Early in January (1778) Lessing saw his wife and baby boy
+laid in the grave. The brief sunshine which had illumined his path had
+vanished for ever.
+
+The letters written by him at the time are more pathetic in their stoic
+brevity than folios of lamentations. There were no further hopes of
+happiness for him on earth; he must just resign himself and work on at
+his appointed labour until he too should be laid to rest. He turned
+with an ardour that was almost furious to encounter the assailants of
+his last literary publication. Since his appointment as Wolfenbüttel
+librarian Lessing had from time to time published some of its
+manuscript treasures, and among these he had inserted portions of a
+work that had been intrusted to him, and which he deemed ought not to
+be withheld from the light of day. These were the famous Wolfenbüttel
+Fragments issued anonymously by Lessing, but really the work of a
+deceased Hamburger, Professor Reimarus. Their publication drew down
+upon Lessing a fury of rancorous abuse, and involved him in a vortex of
+controversy that lasted till his death. The chief and most vehement of
+his opponents was Pastor J. M. Goeze, whose insulting polemic reached
+him by the bedside of his dying wife. Its malignant and unjustified
+attacks roused Lessing's energy. He assailed Goeze with all the
+strength of his grief, for which he was thankful to find a safety-valve
+in controversy. The work of Reimarus had advocated rationalism; Lessing
+had distinctly placed himself in position of editor, and pronounced
+that he did not of necessity subscribe to the opinions therein
+enunciated, but he found in their reasoning much food for thought, and
+with his almost romantic passion for truth he deemed that such matter
+should not be withheld from the world. Goeze chose to consider that
+Lessing was sailing under false colours, that the fragments were his
+own composition, and that he was undermining the national faith.
+Lessing replied to Goeze's insults by a series of fourteen letters,
+entitled 'Anti-Goeze,' which actually silenced his opponent, who had
+never been known before to allow an adversary the last word. They are
+written in a serio-comic tone, and for sparkling wit, trenchant
+sarcasm, and dramatic dialectics surpass anything ever penned by
+Lessing. No less admirable is his accurate theological knowledge and
+his large-minded comprehension of the purposes of religion.
+
+The same noble spirit pervades his 'Nathan the Wise,' which he wrote
+about this time as a relief to his controversial discussions, and as
+another protest against the narrow-minded assumptions of the
+professional theologians. Lessing had ever contended that the stage
+might prove as useful a pulpit as the church, and in 'Nathan' he strove
+to preach the universal brotherhood of mankind; its hero is a Jew of
+ideal and pure morality. The whole purpose of the drama was a stricture
+on class prejudices and an enunciation of the innate truth that
+underlies all forms of creeds. The play is too well known even in this
+country to require much comment; it is a noble monument of toleration
+and large-mindedness, and the fact that he could produce it under the
+load of a crushing sorrow speaks volumes for the true earnest religious
+faith that dwelt in Lessing's nature. At the time its pure tendencies
+were not understood. Lessing had progressed beyond the comprehension of
+his age, and the inevitable consequences ensued,--misconstruction and
+mental loneliness. He began to be regarded with suspicion as a
+dangerous innovator; even old friends held aloof in doubt. Meanwhile
+his only comfort remained in his home, in the step-children, whom his
+wife had brought thither. His step-daughter was his tender and
+attentive companion, for since his wife's death Lessing's health had
+declined, and he required care. Though no trace of impaired vigour
+appears in his writings of the period, which indeed are animated by an
+exhilarating vitality, yet too evident traces of impaired vigour
+appeared in himself. He grew languid, an excessive inclination to sleep
+overpowered him; he suffered from attacks of vertigo. Yet as long as he
+could hold a pen he should write, he told his brother,--write in the
+cause of what he firmly held to be the truth.
+
+A small pamphlet, consisting of a hundred propositions, entitled 'The
+Education of the Human Race,' was his next production, a work pregnant
+with thought that opens out wide vistas of knowledge and progress to
+mankind. Lessing indeed was the first man of his century to formulate
+the modern doctrine of progress; he preached a true millennium of
+toleration, love, and knowledge; he distinctly proclaimed his faith in
+the immortality of the soul. 'The Education of the Human Race' is a
+splendid disavowal of his enemies' calumnious assertions. It was a
+glorious swan-song, wherewith he lulled himself into eternal peace.
+
+On one of his official visits to Brunswick, Lessing was overtaken by a
+paralytic stroke. On the 15th of February, 1781, he passed away. He
+died as he lived, nobly, in a reverent assurance that he had fought a
+good fight on earth in the cause of truth and enlightenment, progress
+and humanity.
+
+Time, the true criterion of human fame, has not only left his glory
+undiminished, but has augmented it, as popular intelligence has
+gradually arisen to the comprehension of its many-sided significance.
+It will be long before we have outgrown Lessing, if indeed that time
+can ever come. And even if some things in his writings may seem narrow
+or antiquated to our vision, we may readily pass them over to arrive at
+matters eternally true, exalted, sublime. Truth was the main purpose of
+all he wrote, and truth is for all ages and all time. Lessing was one
+of the truly great ones of this earth, and petty cavillers should lay
+to heart the words of another wise man, the author of 'The Imitation:'
+
+"All perfection in this world has some imperfection coupled with it,
+and none of our investigations are without some obscurity."
+
+                                                     Helen Zimmern.
+
+
+
+
+                           MISS SARA SAMPSON.
+
+                        A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.
+
+
+Miss Sara Sampson, the first of Lessing's tragedies, was completed in
+the year 1755, while Lessing was at Potsdam. In the same year it was
+represented at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, and was very well received. It
+was afterwards translated and acted in France, where it also met with
+success.
+
+The present is the first English translation which has appeared.
+
+
+
+
+                           DRAMATIS PERSONĈ.
+
+      Sir William Sampson.
+      Miss Sara Sampson, _his daughter_.
+      Mellefont.
+      Marwood, _formerly_ Mellefont's _mistress_.
+      Arabella, _a child, daughter of_ Marwood.
+      Waitwell, _an old servant of_ Sir William.
+      Norton, _servant of_ Mellefont.
+      Betty, Sara's _maid_.
+      Hannah, Marwood's _maid_.
+      _The_ Innkeeper _and others_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                           MISS SARA SAMPSON.
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT I.
+
+
+                     Scene I.--_A room in an inn_.
+
+                     Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+   My daughter, here? Here in this wretched inn?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+No doubt, Mellefont has purposely selected the most wretched one in the
+town. The wicked always seek the darkness, because they are wicked. But
+what would it help them, could they even hide themselves from the whole
+world? Conscience after all is more powerful than the accusations of a
+world. Ah, you are weeping again, again, Sir!--Sir!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Let me weep, my honest old servant! Or does she not, do you think,
+deserve my tears?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Alas! She deserves them, were they tears of blood.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Well, let me weep!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+The best, the loveliest, the most innocent child that ever lived
+beneath the sun, must thus be led astray! Oh, my Sara, my little Sara!
+I have watched thee grow; a hundred times have I carried thee as a
+child in these arms, have I admired thy smiles, thy lispings. From
+every childish look beamed forth the dawn of an intelligence, a
+kindliness, a----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Oh, be silent! Does not the present rend my heart enough? Will you make
+my tortures more infernal still by recalling past happiness? Change
+your tone, if you will do me a service. Reproach me, make of my
+tenderness a crime, magnify my daughter's fault; fill me with
+abhorrence of her, if you can; stir up anew my revenge against her
+cursed seducer; say, that Sara never was virtuous, since she so lightly
+ceased to be so; say that she never loved me, since she clandestinely
+forsook me!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+If I said that, I should utter a lie, a shameless, wicked lie. It might
+come to me again on my death-bed, and I, old wretch, would die in
+despair. No, little Sara has loved her father; and doubtless, doubtless
+she loves him yet. If you will only be convinced of this, I shall see
+her again in your arms this very day.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Yes, Waitwell, of this alone I ask to be convinced. I cannot any longer
+live without her; she is the support of my age, and if she does not
+help to sweeten the sad remaining days of my life, who shall do it? If
+she loves me still, her error is forgotten. It was the error of a
+tender-hearted maiden, and her flight was the result of her remorse.
+Such errors are better than forced virtues. Yet I feel, Waitwell, I
+feel it, even were these errors real crimes, premeditated vices--even
+then I should forgive her. I would rather be loved by a wicked
+daughter, than by none at all.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Dry your tears, dear sir! I hear some one. It will be the landlord
+coming to welcome us.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+             _The_ Landlord, Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                                LANDLORD.
+
+So early, gentlemen, so early? You are welcome; welcome, Waitwell! You
+have doubtless been travelling all night! Is that the gentleman, of
+whom you spoke to me yesterday?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Yes, it is he, and I hope that in accordance with what we settled----
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+I am entirely at your service, my lord. What is it to me, whether I
+know or not, what cause has brought you hither, and why you wish to
+live in seclusion in my house? A landlord takes his money and lets his
+guests do as they think best. Waitwell, it is true, has told me that
+you wish to observe the stranger a little, who has been staying here
+for a few weeks with his young wife, but I hope that you will not cause
+him any annoyance. You would bring my house into ill repute and certain
+people would fear to stop here. Men like us must live on people of all
+kinds.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not fear; only conduct me to the room which Waitwell has ordered for
+me; I come here for an honourable purpose.
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+I have no wish to know your secrets, my lord! Curiosity is by no means
+a fault of mine. I might for instance have known long ago, who the
+stranger is, on whom you want to keep a watch, but I have no wish to
+know. This much however I have discovered, that he must have eloped
+with the young lady. The poor little wife--or whatever she may
+be!--remains the whole day long locked up in her room, and cries.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+And cries?
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+Yes, and cries; but, my lord, why do your tears fall? The young lady
+must interest you deeply. Surely you are not----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Do not detain him any longer!
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+Come, come! One wall only will separate you from the lady in whom you
+are so much interested, and who may be----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+You mean then at any cost to know, who----
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+No, Waitwell! I have no wish to know anything.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Make haste, then, and take us to our rooms, before the whole house
+begins to stir.
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+Will you please follow me, then, my lord? (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+                    Scene III.--Mellefont's _room_.
+
+                           Mellefont, Norton.
+
+       MELLEFONT (_in dressing-gown, sitting in an easy chair_).
+
+Another night, which I could not have spent more cruelly on the
+rack!--(_calls_) Norton!--I must make haste to get sight of a face or
+two. If I remained alone with my thoughts any longer, they might carry
+me too far. Hey, Norton! He is still asleep. But is not it cruel of me,
+not to let the poor devil sleep? How happy he is! However, I do not
+wish any one about me to be happy! Norton!
+
+                            NORTON (coming).
+
+Sir!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Dress me!--Oh, no sour looks please! When I shall be able to sleep
+longer myself I will let you do the same. If you wish to do your duty,
+at least have pity on me.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Pity, sir! Pity on you? I know better where pity is due.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And where then?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Ah, let me dress you and don't ask.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Confound it! Are _your_ reproofs then to awaken together with my
+conscience? I understand you; I know on whom you expend your pity. But
+I will do justice to her and to myself. Quite right, do not have any
+pity on me! Curse me in your heart; but--curse yourself also!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Myself also?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Yes, because you serve a miserable wretch, whom earth ought not to
+bear, and because you have made yourself a partaker in his crimes.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I made myself a partaker in your crimes? In what way?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+By keeping silent about them.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Well, that is good! A word would have cost me my neck in the heat of
+your passions. And, besides, did I not find you already so bad, when I
+made your acquaintance, that all hope of amendment was vain? What a
+life I have seen you leading from the first moment! In the lowest
+society of gamblers and vagrants--I call them what they were without
+regard to their knightly titles and such like--in this society you
+squandered a fortune which might have made a way for you to an
+honourable position. And your culpable intercourse with all sorts of
+women, especially with the wicked Marwood----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Restore me--restore me to that life. It was virtue compared with the
+present one. I spent my fortune; well! The punishment follows, and I
+shall soon enough feel all the severity and humiliation of want. I
+associated with vicious women; that may be. I was myself seduced more
+often than I seduced others; and those whom I did seduce wished it.
+But--I still had no ruined virtue upon my conscience. I had carried off
+no Sara from the house of a beloved father and forced her to follow a
+scoundrel, who was no longer free. I had----who comes so early to me?
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                       Betty, Mellefont, Norton.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+It is Betty.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Up already, Betty? How is your mistress?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+How is she? (_sobbing_.) It was long after midnight before I could
+persuade her to go to bed. She slept a few moments; but God, what a
+sleep that must have been! She started suddenly, sprang up and fell
+into my arms, like one pursued by a murderer. She trembled, and a cold
+perspiration started on her pale face. I did all I could to calm her,
+but up to this morning she has only answered me with silent tears. At
+length she sent me several times to your door to listen whether you
+were up. She wishes to speak to you. You alone can comfort her. O do
+so, dearest sir, do so! My heart will break, if she continues to fret
+like this.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Go, Betty! Tell her, I shall be with her in a moment,
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+No, she wishes to come to you herself.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Well, tell her, then, that I am awaiting her----
+
+                                                    (_Exit_ Betty.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                           Mellefont, Norton.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+O God, the poor young lady!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Whose feelings is this exclamation of yours meant to rouse? See, the
+first tear which I have shed since my childhood is running down my
+cheek. A bad preparation for receiving one who seeks comfort. But why
+does she seek it from me? Yet where else shall she seek it? I must
+collect myself (_drying his eyes_). Where is the old firmness with
+which I could see a beautiful eye in tears? Where is the gift of
+dissimulation gone by which I could be and could say whatsoever I
+wished? She will come now and weep tears that brook no resistance.
+Confused and ashamed I shall stand before her; like a convicted
+criminal I shall stand before her. Counsel me, what shall I do? What
+shall I say?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+You shall do what she asks of you!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I shall then perpetrate a fresh act of cruelty against her. She is
+wrong to blame me for delaying a ceremony which cannot be performed in
+this country without the greatest injury to us.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Well, leave it, then. Why do we delay? Why do you let one day after the
+other pass, and one week after the other? Just give me the order, and
+you will be safe on board to-morrow! Perhaps her grief will not follow
+her over the ocean; she may leave part of it behind, and in another
+land may----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I hope that myself. Silence! She is coming! How my heart throbs!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                        Sara, Mellefont, Norton.
+
+                  MELLEFONT (_advancing towards her_).
+
+You have had a restless night, dearest Sara.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Alas, Mellefont, if it were nothing but a restless night.
+
+                     MELLEFONT (_to his servant_).
+
+Leave us!
+
+                      NORTON (_aside, in going_).
+
+I would not stay if I was paid in gold for every moment.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Sara, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are faint, dearest Sara! You must sit down!
+
+                          SARA (_sits down_).
+
+I trouble you very early! Will you forgive me that with the morning I
+again begin my complaints?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Dearest Sara, you mean to say that you cannot forgive me, because
+another morning has dawned, and I have not yet put an end to your
+complaints?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What is there that I would not forgive you? You know what I have
+already forgiven you. But the ninth week, Mellefont! the ninth week
+begins to-day, and this miserable house still sees me in just the same
+position as on the first day.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You doubt my love?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I doubt your love? No, I feel my misery too much, too much to wish to
+deprive myself of this last and only solace.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How, then, can you be uneasy about the delay of a ceremony?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah, Mellefont! Why is it that we think so differently about this
+ceremony! Yield a little to the woman's way of thinking! I imagine in
+it a more direct consent from Heaven. In vain did I try again, only
+yesterday, in the long tedious evening, to adopt your ideas, and to
+banish from my breast the doubt which just now--not for the first time,
+you have deemed the result of my distrust. I struggled with myself; I
+was clever enough to deafen my understanding; but my heart and my
+feeling quickly overthrew this toilsome structure of reason.
+Reproachful voices roused me from my sleep, and my imagination united
+with them to torment me. What pictures, what dreadful pictures hovered
+about me! I would willingly believe them to be dreams----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What? Could my sensible Sara believe them to be anything else? Dreams,
+my dearest, dreams!--How unhappy is man!--Did not his Creator find
+tortures enough for him in the realm of reality? Had he also to create
+in him the still more spacious realm of imagination in order to
+increase them?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not accuse Heaven! It has left the imagination in our power. She is
+guided by our acts; and when these are in accordance with our duties
+and with virtue the imagination serves only to increase our peace and
+happiness. A single act, Mellefont, a single blessing bestowed upon us
+by a messenger of peace, in the name of the Eternal One, can restore my
+shattered imagination again. Do you still hesitate to do a few days
+sooner for love of me, what in any case you mean to do at some future
+time? Have pity on me, and consider that, although by this you may be
+freeing me only from torments of the imagination, yet these imagined
+torments are torments, and are real torments for her who feels them.
+Ah! could I but tell you the terrors of the last night half as vividly
+as I have felt them. Wearied with crying and grieving--my only
+occupations--I sank down on my bed with half-closed eyes. Sly nature
+wished to recover itself a moment, to collect new tears. But hardly
+asleep yet, I suddenly saw myself on the steepest peak of a terrible
+rock. You went on before, and I followed with tottering, anxious steps,
+strengthened now and then by a glance which you threw back upon me.
+Suddenly I heard behind me a gentle call, which bade me stop. It was my
+father's voice--I unhappy one, can I forget nothing which is his? Alas
+if his memory renders him equally cruel service; if he too cannot
+forget me!--But he has forgotten me. Comfort! cruel comfort for his
+Sara!--But, listen, Mellefont! In turning round to this well-known
+voice, my foot slipped; I reeled, and was on the point of falling down
+the precipice, when just in time, I felt myself held back by one who
+resembled myself. I was just returning her my passionate thanks, when
+she drew a dagger from her bosom. "I saved you," she cried, "to ruin
+you!" She lifted her armed hand--and--! I awoke with the blow. Awake, I
+still felt all the pain which a mortal stab must give, without the
+pleasure which it brings--the hope for the end of grief in the end of
+life.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah! dearest Sara, I promise you the end of your grief, without the end
+of your life, which would certainly be the end of mine also. Forget the
+terrible tissue of a meaningless dream!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I look to you for the strength to be able to forget it. Be it love or
+seduction, happiness or unhappiness which threw me into your arms, I am
+yours in my heart and will remain so for ever. But I am not yet yours
+in the eyes of that Judge, who has threatened to punish the smallest
+transgressions of His law----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Then may all the punishment fall upon me alone!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What can fall upon you, without touching me too? But do not
+misinterpret my urgent request! Another woman, after having forfeited
+her honour by an error like mine, might perhaps only seek to regain a
+part of it by a legal union. I do not think of that, Mellefont, because
+I do not wish to know of any other honour in this world than that of
+loving you. I do not wish to be united to you for the world's sake but
+for my own. And I will willingly bear the shame of not appearing to be
+so, when I am united to you. You need not then, if you do not wish,
+acknowledge me to be your wife, you may call me what you will! I will
+not bear your name; you shall keep our union as secret as you think
+good, and may I always be unworthy of it, if I ever harbour the thought
+of drawing any other advantage from it than the appeasing of my
+conscience.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Stop, Sara, or I shall die before your eyes. How wretched I am, that I
+have not the courage to make you more wretched still! Consider that you
+have given yourself up to my guidance; consider that it is my duty to
+look to our future, and that I must at present be deaf to your
+complaints, if I will not hear you utter more grievous complaints
+throughout the rest of your life. Have you then forgotten what I have
+so often represented to you in justification of my conduct?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I have not forgotten it, Mellefont! You wish first to secure a certain
+bequest. You wish first to secure temporal goods, and you let me
+forfeit eternal ones, perhaps, through it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara! If you were as certain of all temporal goods as your virtue
+is of the eternal ones----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+My virtue? Do not say that word! Once it sounded sweet to me, but now a
+terrible thunder rolls in it!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What? Must he who is to be virtuous, never have committed a trespass?
+Has a single error such fatal effect that it can annihilate a whole
+course of blameless years? If so, no one is virtuous; virtue is then a
+chimera, which disperses in the air, when one thinks that one grasps it
+most firmly; if so, there is no Wise Being who suits our duties to
+our strength; if so, there is----I am frightened at the terrible
+conclusions in which your despondency must involve you. No, Sara, you
+are still the virtuous Sara that you were before your unfortunate
+acquaintance with me. If you look upon yourself with such cruel eyes,
+with what eyes must you regard me!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+With the eyes of love, Mellefont!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I implore you, then, on my knees I implore you for the sake of this
+love, this generous love which overlooks all my unworthiness, to calm
+yourself! Have patience for a few days longer!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+A few days! How long even a single day is!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Cursed bequest! Cursed nonsense of a dying cousin, who would only leave
+me his fortune on the condition that I should give my hand to a
+relation who hates me as much as I hate her! To you, inhuman tyrants of
+our freedom, be imputed all the misfortune, all the sin, into which
+your compulsion forces us. Could I but dispense with this degrading
+inheritance. As long as my father's fortune sufficed for my
+maintenance, I always scorned it, and did not even think it worthy of
+mentioning. But now, now, when I should like to possess all the
+treasures of the world only to lay them at the feet of my Sara, now,
+when I must contrive at least to let her appear in the world as befits
+her station, now I must have recourse to it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Which probably will not be successful after all.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You always forbode the worst. No, the lady whom this also concerns is
+not disinclined to enter into a sort of agreement with me. The fortune
+is to be divided, and as she cannot enjoy the whole with me, she is
+willing to let me buy my liberty with half of it. I am every hour
+expecting the final intelligence, the delay of which alone has so
+prolonged our sojourn here. As soon as I receive it, we shall not
+remain here one moment longer. We will immediately cross to France,
+dearest Sara, where you shall find new friends, who already look
+forward to the pleasure of seeing and loving you. And these new friends
+shall be the witnesses of our union----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+They shall be the witnesses of our union? Cruel man, our union, then,
+is not to be in my native land? I shall leave my country as a criminal?
+And as such, you think, I should have the courage to trust myself to
+the ocean. The heart of him must be calmer or more impious than mine,
+who, only for a moment, can see with indifference between himself and
+destruction, nothing but a quivering plank. Death would roar at me in
+every wave that struck against the vessel, every wind would howl its
+curses after me from my native shore, and the slightest storm would
+seem a sentence of death pronounced upon me. No, Mellefont, you cannot
+be so cruel to me! If I live to see the completion of this agreement,
+you must not grudge another day, to be spent here. This must be the
+day, on which you shall teach me to forget the tortures of all these
+tearful days. This must be the sacred day--alas! which day will it be?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But do you consider, Sara, that our marriage here would lack those
+ceremonies which are due to it?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+A sacred act does not acquire more force through ceremonies.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I am astonished. You surely will not insist on such a trivial pretext?
+O Mellefont, Mellefont! had I not made for myself an inviolable
+law, never to doubt the sincerity of your love, this circumstance
+might----But too much of this already, it might seem as if I had been
+doubting it even now.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The first moment of your doubt would be the last moment of my life!
+Alas, Sara, what have I done, that you should remind me even of the
+possibility of it? It is true the confessions, which I have made to you
+without fear, of my early excesses cannot do me honour, but they should
+at least awaken confidence. A coquettish Marwood held me in her meshes,
+because I felt for her that which is so often taken for love which it
+so rarely is. I should still bear her shameful fetters, had not Heaven,
+which perhaps did not think my heart quite unworthy to bum with better
+flames, taken pity on me. To see you, dearest Sara, was to forget all
+Marwoods! But how dearly have you paid for taking me out of such hands!
+I had grown too familiar with vice, and you know it too little----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let us think no more of it.
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                        Norton, Mellefont, Sara.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What do you want?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+While I was standing before the house, a servant gave me this letter.
+It is directed to you, sir!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+To me? Who knows my name here? (_looking at the letter_). Good heavens!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You are startled.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But without cause, Sara, as I now perceive. I was mistaken in the
+handwriting.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+May the contents be as agreeable to you as you can wish.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I suspect that they will be of very little importance.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+One is less constrained when one is alone, so allow me to retire to my
+room again.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You entertain suspicions, then, about it?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Not at all, Mellefont.
+
+      MELLEFONT (_going with her to the back of the stage_).
+
+I shall be with you in a moment, dearest Sara.
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                           Mellefont, Norton.
+
+               MELLEFONT (_still looking at the letter_).
+
+Just Heaven!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Woe to you, if it is only just!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Is it possible? I see this cursed handwriting again and am not chilled
+with terror? Is it she? Is it not she? Why do I still doubt? It is she!
+Alas, friend, a letter from Marwood! What fury, what demon has betrayed
+my abode to her? What does she still want from me? Go, make
+preparations immediately that we may get away from here. Yet stop!
+Perhaps it is unnecessary; perhaps the contempt of my farewell letters
+has only caused Marwood to reply with equal contempt. There, open the
+letter; read it! I am afraid to do it myself.
+
+
+                           NORTON (_reads_).
+
+"If you will deign, Mellefont, to glance at the name which you will
+find at the bottom of the page, it will be to me as though I had
+written you the longest of letters."
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Curse the name! Would I had never heard it! Would it could be erased
+from the book of the living!
+
+                          NORTON (_reads on_).
+
+"The labour of finding you out has been sweetened by the love which
+helped me in my search."
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Love? Wanton creature! You profane the words which belong to virtue
+alone.
+
+                         NORTON (_continues_).
+
+"Love has done more still"----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I tremble----
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+"It has brought me to you"----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Traitor, what are you reading? (_snatches the letter from his hand and
+reads himself_). "I am here; and it rests with you, whether you will
+await a visit from me, or whether you will anticipate mine by one from
+you. Marwood." What a thunderbolt! She is here! Where is she? She
+shall atone for this audacity with her life!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+With her life? One glance from her and you will be again at her feet.
+Take care what you do! You must not speak with her, or the misfortunes
+of your poor young lady will be complete.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+O, wretched man that I am! No, I must speak with her! She would go even
+into Sara's room in search of me, and would vent all her rage on the
+innocent girl.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+But, sir----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Not a word! Let me see (_looking at the letter_) whether she has given
+the address. Here it is! Come, show me the way! (_Exeunt_).
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT II.
+
+               Scene I.--Marwood's _room in another inn_.
+
+                    Marwood (_in negligée_), Hannah.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I hope Belfort has delivered the letter at the right address, Hannah?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+He has.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+To him himself?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+To his servant.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am all impatience to see what effect it will have. Do I not seem a
+little uneasy to you, Hannah? And I am so. The traitor! But gently! I
+must not on any account give way to anger. Forbearance, love, entreaty
+are the only weapons which I can use against him, if I rightly
+understand his weak side.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+But if he should harden himself against them?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If he should harden himself against them? Then I shall not be angry. I
+shall rave! I feel it, Hannah, and I would rather do so to begin with.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Calm yourself! He may come at any moment.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I only hope he may come; I only hope he has not decided to await me on
+his own ground. But do you know, Hannah, on what I chiefly found my
+hopes of drawing away the faithless man from this new object of his
+love? On our Bella!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+It is true, she is a little idol to him; and there could not have been
+a happier idea than that of bringing her with you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Even if his heart should be deaf to an old love, the language of blood
+will at least be audible to him. He tore the child from my arms a short
+time ago under the pretext of wishing to give her an education such as
+she could not have with me. It is only by an artifice that I have been
+able to get her again from the lady who had charge of her. He had paid
+more than a year in advance, and had given strict orders the very day
+before his flight that they should by no means give admission to a
+certain Marwood, who would perhaps come and give herself out as mother
+of the child. From this order I see the distinction which he draws
+between us. He regards Arabella as a precious portion of himself, and
+me as an unfortunate creature, of whose charms he has grown weary.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+What ingratitude!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ah, Hannah! Nothing more infallibly draws down ingratitude, than
+favours for which no gratitude would be too great. Why have I shown him
+these fatal favours? Ought I not to have foreseen that they could not
+always retain their value with him; that their value rested on the
+difficulty in the way of their enjoyment, and that the latter must
+disappear with the charm of our looks which the hand of time
+imperceptibly but surely effaces?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+You, Madam, have not anything to fear for a long time from this
+dangerous hand! To my mind your beauty is so far from having passed the
+point of its brightest bloom, that it is rather advancing towards it,
+and would enchain fresh hearts for you every day if you only would give
+it the permission.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Be silent, Hannah! You flatter me on an occasion which makes me
+suspicious of any flattery. It is nonsense to speak of new conquests,
+if one has not even sufficient power to retain possession of those
+which one has already made.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                      A Servant, Marwood, Hannah.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+Some one wishes to have the honour of speaking with you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Who is it?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+I suppose it is the gentleman to whom the letter was addressed. At
+least the servant to whom I delivered it is with him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont!--Quick, bring him up! (_Exit_ Servant.) Ah, Hannah! He is
+here now! How shall I receive him? What shall I say? What look shall I
+put on? Is this calm enough? Just see!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Anything but calm.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+This, then?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Throw a little sweetness into it.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+So, perhaps?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Too sad.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Would this smile do?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Perfectly--only less constrained--He is coming.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                      Mellefont, Marwood, Hannah.
+
+               MELLEFONT (_entering with wild gestures_).
+
+Ha! Marwood----
+
+      MARWOOD (_running to meet him smiling, and with open arms_).
+
+Ah, Mellefont!
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+The murderess! What a look!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I must embrace you, faithless, dear fugitive! Share my joy with me! Why
+do you tear yourself from my caresses!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I expected, Marwood, that you would receive me differently.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Why differently? With more love, perhaps? With more delight? Alas, how
+unhappy I am, that I cannot express all that I feel! Do you not see,
+Mellefont, do you not see that joy, too, has its tears? Here they fall,
+the offspring of sweetest delight! But alas, vain tears! His hand does
+not dry you!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood, the time is gone, when such words would have charmed me. You
+must speak now with me in another tone. I come to hear your last
+reproaches and to answer them.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Reproaches? What reproaches should I have for you, Mellefont? None!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Then you might have spared yourself the journey, I should think.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Dearest, capricious heart. Why will you forcibly compel me to recall a
+trifle which I forgave you the same moment I heard of it? Does a
+passing infidelity which your gallantry, but not your heart, has
+caused, deserve these reproaches? Come, let us laugh at it!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are mistaken; my heart is more concerned in it, than it ever was in
+all our love affairs, upon which I cannot now look back but with
+disgust.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Your heart, Mellefont, is a good little fool. It lets your imagination
+persuade it to whatever it will. Believe me, I know it better than you
+do yourself! Were it not the best, the most faithful of hearts, should
+I take such pains to keep it?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+To keep it? You have never possessed it, I tell you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And I tell you, that in reality I possess it still!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood! if I knew that you still possessed one single fibre of it, I
+would tear it out of my breast here before your eyes.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You would see that you were tearing mine out at the same time. And
+then, then these hearts would at last attain that union which they have
+sought so often upon our lips.
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+What a serpent! Flight will be the best thing here.--Just tell me
+briefly, Marwood, why you have followed me, and what you still desire
+of me! But tell it me without this smile, without this look, in which a
+whole' hell of seduction lurks and terrifies me.
+
+                       MARWOOD (_insinuatingly_).
+
+Just listen, my dear Mellefont! I see your position now. Your desires
+and your taste are at present your tyrants. Never mind, one must let
+them wear themselves out. It is folly to resist them. They are most
+safely lulled to sleep, and at last even conquered, by giving them free
+scope. They wear themselves away. Can you accuse me, my fickle friend,
+of ever having been jealous, when more powerful charms than mine
+estranged you from me for a time? I never grudged you the change, by
+which I always won more than I lost. You returned with new ardour, with
+new passion to my arms, in which with light bonds, and never with heavy
+fetters I encompassed you. Have I not often even been your confidante
+though you had nothing to confide but the favours which you stole from
+me, in order to lavish them on others. Why should you believe then,
+that I would now begin to display a capriciousness just when I am
+ceasing, or, perhaps have already ceased, to be justified in it. If
+your ardour for the pretty country girl has not yet cooled down, if you
+are still in the first fever of your love for her; if you cannot yet do
+without the enjoyment she gives you; who hinders you from devoting
+yourself to her, as long as you think good? But must you on that
+account make such rash projects, and purpose to fly from the country
+with her?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood! You speak in perfect keeping with your character, the
+wickedness of which I never understood so well as I do now, since, in
+the society of a virtuous woman, I have learned to distinguish love
+from licentiousness.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Indeed! Your new mistress is then a girl of fine moral sentiments, I
+suppose? You men surely cannot know yourselves what you want. At one
+time you are pleased with the most wanton talk and the most unchaste
+jests from us, at another time we charm you, when we talk nothing but
+virtue, and seem to have all the seven sages on our lips. But the worst
+is, that you get tired of one as much as the other. We may be foolish
+or reasonable, worldly or spiritual; our efforts to make you constant
+are lost either way. The turn will come to your beautiful saint soon
+enough. Shall I give you a little sketch? Just at present you are in
+the most passionate paroxysm over her. I allow this two or at the most
+three days more. To this will succeed a tolerably calm love; for this I
+allow a week. The next week you will only think occasionally of this
+love. In the third week, you will have to be reminded of it; and when
+you have got tired of being thus reminded, you will so quickly see
+yourself reduced to the most utter indifference, that I can hardly
+allow the fourth week for this final change. This would be about a
+month altogether. And this month, Mellefont, I will overlook with the
+greatest pleasure; but you will allow that I must not lose sight of
+you.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You try all the weapons in vain which you remember to have used
+successfully with me in bygone days. A virtuous resolution secures me
+against both your tenderness and your wit. However, I will not expose
+myself longer to either. I go, and have nothing more to tell you but
+that in a few days you shall know that I am bound in such a manner as
+will utterly destroy all your hope of my ever returning into your
+sinful slavery. You will have learned my justification sufficiently
+from the letter which I sent to you before my departure.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is well that you mention this letter. Tell me, who did you get to
+write it?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Did not I write it myself?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Impossible! The beginning of it, in which you reckoned up--I do not
+know what sums--which you say you have wasted with me, must have been
+written by an innkeeper, and the theological part at the end by a
+Quaker. I will now give you a serious reply to it. As to the principal
+point, you well know that all the presents which you have made are
+still in existence. I have never considered your cheques or your jewels
+as my property, and I have brought them all with me to return them into
+the hands which entrusted them to me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Keep them all, Marwood!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I will not keep any of them. What right have I to them without you
+yourself? Although you do not love me any more, you must at least do me
+justice and not take me for one of those venal females, to whom it is a
+matter of indifference by whose booty they enrich themselves. Come,
+Mellefont, you shall this moment be as rich again as you perhaps might
+still be if you had not known me; and perhaps, too, might _not_ be.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What demon intent upon my destruction speaks through you now!
+Voluptuous Marwood does not think so nobly.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Do you call that noble? I call it only just. No, Sir, no, I do not ask
+that you shall account the return of your gifts as anything remarkable.
+It costs me nothing, and I should even consider the slightest
+expression of thanks on your part as an insult, which could have no
+other meaning than this: "Marwood, I thought you a base deceiver; I am
+thankful that you have not wished to be so towards me at least."
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Enough, Madam, enough! I fly, since my unlucky destiny threatens to
+involve me in a contest of generosity, in which I should be most
+unwilling to succumb.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Fly, then! But take everything with you that could remind me of you.
+Poor, despised, without honour, and without friends, I will then
+venture again to awaken your pity. I will show you in the unfortunate
+Marwood only a miserable woman, who has sacrificed to you her person,
+her honour, her virtue, and her conscience. I will remind you of the
+first day, when you saw and loved me; of the first, stammering, bashful
+confession of your love, which you made me at my feet; of the first
+assurance of my return of your love, which you forced from me; of the
+tender looks, of the passionate embraces, which followed, of the
+eloquent silence, when each with busy mind divined the other's most
+secret feelings, and read the most hidden thoughts of the soul in the
+languishing eye; of the trembling expectation of approaching
+gratification; of the intoxication of its joys; of the sweet relaxation
+after the fulness of enjoyment, in which the exhausted spirits regained
+strength for fresh delights. I shall remind you of all this, and then
+embrace your knees, and entreat without ceasing for the only gift,
+which you cannot deny me, and which I can accept without blushing--for
+death from your hand.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Cruel one! I would still give even my life for you. Ask it, ask it,
+only do not any longer claim my love. I must leave you, Marwood, or
+make myself an object of loathing to the whole world. I am culpable
+already in that I only stand here and listen to you. Farewell,
+farewell!
+
+                     MARWOOD (_holding him back_).
+
+You must leave me? And what, then, do you wish, shall become of me? As
+I am now, I am your creature; do, then, what becomes a creator; he may
+not withdraw his hand from the work until he wishes to destroy it
+utterly. Alas, Hannah, I see now, my entreaties alone are too feeble.
+Go, bring my intercessor, who will now, perhaps, return to me more than
+she ever received from me. (_Exit_ Hannah).
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What intercessor, Marwood?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ah, an intercessor of whom you would only too willingly have deprived
+me. Nature will take a shorter road to your heart with her grievances.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You alarm me. Surely you have not----
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                 Arabella, Hannah, Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What do I see? It is she! Marwood, how could you dare to----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Am I not her mother? Come, my Bella, see, here is your protector again,
+your friend, your .... Ah! his heart may tell him what more he can be
+to you than a protector and a friend.
+
+                  MELLEFONT (_turning away his face_).
+
+God, what shall I have to suffer here?
+
+              ARABELLA (_advancing timidly towards him_).
+
+Ah, Sir! Is it you? Are you our Mellefont? No, Madam, surely, surely it
+is not he! Would he not look at me, if it were? Would he not hold me in
+his arms? He used to do so. What an unhappy child I am! How have I
+grieved him, this dear, dear man, who let me call him my father?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You are silent, Mellefont? You grudge the innocent child a single look?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah!
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+Why, he sighs, Madam! What is the matter with him? Cannot we help him?
+Cannot I? Nor you? Then let us sigh with him! Ah, now he looks at me!
+No, he looks away again! He looks up to Heaven! What does he want? What
+does he ask from Heaven? Would that Heaven would grant him everything,
+even if it refused me everything for it!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Go, my child, go, fall at his feet! He wants to leave us, to leave us
+for ever.
+
+             ARABELLA (_falling on her knees before him_).
+
+Here I am already. You will leave us? You will leave us for ever? Have
+not we already been without you for a little "for ever." Shall we have
+to lose you again? You have said so often that you loved us. Does one
+leave the people whom one loves? I cannot love you then, I suppose, for
+I should wish never to leave you. Never, and I never will leave you
+either.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I will help you in your entreaties, my child! And you must help me too!
+Now, Mellefont, you see me too at your feet....
+
+     MELLEFONT (_stopping her, as she throws herself at his feet_).
+
+Marwood, dangerous Marwood! And you, too, my dearest Bella (_raising
+her up_), you too are the enemy of your Mellefont?
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+I your enemy?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+What is your resolve?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What it ought not to be, Marwood; what it ought not to be.
+
+                       MARWOOD (_embracing him_).
+
+Ah, I know that the honesty of your heart has always overcome the
+obstinacy of your desires.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do not importune me any longer! I am already what you wish to make me;
+a perjurer, a seducer, a robber, a murderer!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You will be so in imagination for a few days, and after that you will
+see that I have prevented you from becoming so in reality. You will
+return with us, won't you?
+
+                      ARABELLA (_insinuatingly_).
+
+Oh yes, do!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Return with you! How can I?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Nothing is easier, if you only wish it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And my Sara----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And your Sara may look to herself.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ha! cruel Marwood, these words reveal the very bottom of your heart to
+me. And yet I, wretch, do not repent?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you had seen the bottom of my heart, you would have discovered that
+it has more true pity for your Sara than you yourself have. I say true
+pity; for your pity is egotistic and weak. You have carried this
+love-affair much too far. We might let it pass, that you as a man, who
+by long intercourse with our sex has become master in the art of seducing,
+used your superiority in dissimulation and experience against such a
+young maiden, and did not rest until you had gained your end. You can
+plead the impetuosity of your passion as your excuse. But, Mellefont,
+you cannot justify yourself for having robbed an old father of his only
+child, for having rendered to an honourable old man his few remaining
+steps to the grave harder and more bitter, for having broken the
+strongest ties of nature for the sake of your desires. Repair your
+error, then, as far as it is possible to repair it. Give the old man
+his support again, and send a credulous daughter back to her home,
+which you need not render desolate also, because you have dishonoured
+it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+This only was still wanting--that you should call in my conscience
+against me also. But even supposing what you say were just, must I not
+be brazenfaced if I should propose it myself to the unhappy girl?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Well, I will confess to you, that I have anticipated this difficulty,
+and considered how to spare you it. As soon as I learned your address,
+I informed her old father privately of it. He was beside himself with
+joy, and wanted to start directly. I wonder he has not yet arrived.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What do you say?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Just await his arrival quietly, and do not let the girl notice
+anything. I myself will not detain you any longer. Go to her again; she
+might grow suspicious. But I trust that I shall see you again to-day.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Oh, Marwood! With what feelings did I come to you, and with what must I
+leave you! A kiss, my dear Bella.
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+That was for you, now one for me! But come back again soon, do!
+
+                                               (_Exit_ Mellefont).
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       Marwood, Arabella, Hannah.
+
+                   MARWOOD (_drawing a deep breath_).
+
+Victory, Hannah! but a hard victory! Give me a chair, I feel quite
+exhausted (_sitting down_). He surrendered only just in time, if he had
+hesitated another moment, I should have shown him quite a different
+Marwood.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Ah, Madam, what a woman you are! I should like to Bee the man who could
+resist you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+He has resisted me already too long. And assuredly, assuredly, I will
+not forgive him that he almost let me go down on my knees to him.
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+No, no! You must forgive him everything. He is so good, so good----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Be silent, little silly!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+I do not know on what side you did not attack him! But nothing, I
+think, touched him more, than the disinterestedness with which you
+offered to return all his presents to him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I believe so too. Ha! ha! ha! (_contemptuously_).
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Why do you laugh, Madam? You really risked a great deal, if you were
+not in earnest about it. Suppose he had taken you at your word?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Oh, nonsense, one knows with whom one has to deal.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+I quite admit that! But you too, my pretty Bella, did your part
+excellently, excellently!
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+How so? Could I do it, then, any other way? I had not seen him for such
+a long time. I hope you are not angry, Madam, that I love him so? I
+love you as much as him, just as much.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Very well, I will pardon you this time that you do not love me better
+than him.
+
+                         ARABELLA (_sobbing_).
+
+This time?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Why, you are crying actually? What is it about?
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+Ah, no! I am not crying. Do not get angry! I will love you both so
+much, so much, that it will be impossible to love either of you more.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Very well.
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+I am so unhappy.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Now be quiet----but what is that?
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                 Mellefont, Marwood, Arabella, Hannah.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Why do you come back again so soon, Mellefont? (_rising_).
+
+                      MELLEFONT (_passionately_).
+
+Because I needed but a few moments to recover my senses.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Well?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I was stunned, Marwood, but not moved! You have had all your trouble in
+vain. Another atmosphere than this infectious one of your room has
+given me back my courage and my strength, to withdraw my foot in time
+from this dangerous snare. Were the tricks of a Marwood not
+sufficiently familiar to me, unworthy wretch that I am?
+
+                        MARWOOD (_impatiently_).
+
+What language is that?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The language of truth and anger.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Gently, Mellefont! or I too shall speak in the same language.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I return only in order not to leave you one moment longer under a
+delusion with regard to me, which must make me despicable even in your
+eyes.
+
+                          ARABELLA (_timidly_).
+
+Oh, Hannah!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Look at me as madly as you like. The more madly the better! Was it
+possible that I could hesitate only for one moment between a Marwood
+and a Sara, and that I had well nigh decided for the former?
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+Oh, Mellefont!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do not tremble, Bella! For your sake too I came back. Give me your
+hand, and follow me without fear!
+
+                       MARWOOD (_stopping them_).
+
+Whom shall she follow, traitor?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Her father!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Go, pitiable wretch, and learn first to know her mother.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I know her. She is a disgrace to her sex.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Take her away, Hannah!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Remain here, Bella (_attempting to stop her_).
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No force, Mellefont, or----
+
+                                  (_Exeunt_ Hannah _and_ Arabella).
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                          Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Now we are alone! Say now once more, whether you are determined to
+sacrifice me for a foolish girl?
+
+                        MELLEFONT (_bitterly_).
+
+Sacrifice you? You recall to my mind that impure animals were also
+sacrificed to the ancient gods.
+
+                         MARWOOD (_mockingly_).
+
+Express yourself without these learned allusions.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I tell you, then, that I am firmly resolved never to think of you
+again, but with the most fearful of curses. Who are you? And who is
+Sara? You are a voluptuous, egoistic, shameful strumpet, who certainly
+can scarcely remember any longer that she ever was innocent. I have
+nothing to reproach myself with but that I have enjoyed with you that
+which otherwise you would perhaps have let the whole world enjoy. You
+have sought me, not I you, and if I now know who Marwood is, I have
+paid for this knowledge dearly enough. It has cost me my fortune, my
+honour, my happiness----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And I would that it might also cost you your eternal happiness.
+Monster! Is the devil worse than you, when he lures feeble mortals into
+crimes and himself accuses them afterwards for these crimes which are
+his own work! What is my innocence to you? What does it matter to you
+when and how I lost it. If I could not sacrifice my virtue, I have at
+least staked my good name for you. The former is no more valuable than
+the latter. What do I say? More valuable? Without it the former is a
+silly fancy, which brings one neither happiness nor guilt. The good
+name alone gives it some value, and can exist quite well without it.
+What did it matter what I was before I knew you, you wretch! It is
+enough that in the eyes of the world I was a woman without reproach.
+Through you only it has learned that I am not so; solely through my
+readiness to accept your heart, as I then thought, without your hand.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+This very readiness condemns you, vile woman!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But do you remember to what base tricks you owed it? Was I not
+persuaded by you, that you could not be publicly united to me without
+forfeiting an inheritance which you wished to share with me only? Is it
+time now to renounce it? And to renounce it, not for me but for
+another!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is a real delight to me to be able to tell you that this difficulty
+will soon be removed. Content yourself therefore with having deprived
+me of my father's inheritance, and let me enjoy a far smaller one with
+a more worthy wife.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ha! Now I see what it is that makes you so perverse. Well, I will lose
+no more words. Be it so! Be assured I shall do everything to forget
+you. And the first thing that I will do to this end, shall be this. You
+will understand me! Tremble for your Bella! Her life shall not carry
+the memory of my despised love down to posterity; my cruelty shall do
+it. Behold in me a new Medea!
+
+                       MELLEFONT (_frightened_).
+
+Marwood!----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Or, if you know a more cruel mother still, behold her cruelty doubled
+in me! Poison and dagger shall avenge me. But no, poison and dagger are
+tools too merciful for me! They would kill your child and mine too
+soon. I will not see it dead. I will see it dying! I will see each
+feature of the face which she has from you disfigured, distorted, and
+obliterated by slow torture. With eager hand will I part limb from
+limb, vein from vein, nerve from nerve, and will not cease to cut and
+burn the very smallest of them, even when there is nothing remaining
+but a senseless carcass! I--I shall at least feel in it--how sweet is
+revenge!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are raving, Marwood----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You remind me that my ravings are not directed against the right
+person. The father must go first! He must already be in yonder world,
+when, through a thousand woes the spirit of his daughter follows him
+(_she advances towards him with a dagger which she draws from her
+bosom_). So die, traitor!
+
+   MELLEFONT (_seizing her arm, and snatching the dagger from her_).
+
+Insane woman! What hinders me now from turning the steel against you?
+But live, and your punishment shall be left for a hand void of honour.
+
+                    MARWOOD (_wringing her hands_).
+
+Heaven, what have I done? Mellefont----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Your grief shall not deceive me. I know well why you are sorry--not
+that you wished to stab me, but that you failed to do so.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Give me back the erring steel! Give it me back, and you shall see for
+whom it was sharpened! For this breast alone, which for long has been
+too narrow for a heart which will rather renounce life than your love.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Hannah!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+What are you doing, Mellefont?
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+               Hannah (_in terror_), Marwood, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Did you hear, Hannah, how madly your mistress was behaving? Remember
+that I shall hold you responsible for Arabella!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Madam, how agitated you are!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I will place the innocent child in safety immediately. Justice will
+doubtless be able to bind the murderous hands of her cruel mother
+(_going_).
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Whither, Mellefont? Is it astonishing that the violence of my grief
+deprived me of my reason? Who forces me to such unnatural excess? Is it
+not you yourself? Where can Bella be safer than with me? My lips may
+rave, but my heart still remains the heart of a mother. Oh, Mellefont,
+forget my madness, and to excuse it think only of its cause.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+There is only one thing which can induce me to forget it.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And that is?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+That you return immediately to London! I will send Arabella there under
+another escort. You must by no means have anything further to do with
+her.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Very well! I submit to everything; but grant me one single request
+more. Let me see your Sara once.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And what for?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+To read in her eyes my future fate. I will judge for myself whether she
+is worthy of such a breach of faith as you commit against me; and
+whether I may cherish the hope of receiving again, some day at any
+rate, a portion of your love.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Vain hope!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Who is so cruel as to grudge even hope to the unhappy? I will not show
+myself to her as Marwood, but as a relation of yours. Announce me to
+her as such; you shall be present when I call upon her, and I promise
+you, by all that is sacred, to say nothing that is in any way
+displeasing to her. Do not refuse my request, for otherwise I might
+perhaps do all that is in my power to show myself to her in my true
+character.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood! This request----(_after a moment's reflection_) might be
+granted.--But will you then be sure to quit this spot?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Certainly; yes I promise you. Even more, I will spare you the visit
+from her father, if that is still possible.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+There is no need of that! I hope that he will include me too in the
+pardon which he grants to his daughter. But if he will not pardon her,
+I too shall know how to deal with him. I will go and announce you to my
+Sara. Only keep your promise, Marwood. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Alas, Hannah, that our powers are not as great as our courage. Come,
+help me to dress. I do not despair of my scheme. If I could only make
+sure of him first. Come!
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT III.
+
+                 Scene I. (_A room in the first inn_.)
+
+                     Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+There, Waitwell, take this letter to her! It is the letter of an
+affectionate father, who complains of nothing but her absence. Tell her
+that I have sent you on before with it, and that I only await her
+answer, to come myself and fold her again in my arms.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I think you do well to prepare them for your arrival in this way.
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+I make sure of her intentions by this means, and give her the
+opportunity of freeing herself from any shame or sorrow which
+repentance might cause her, before she speaks verbally with me. In a
+letter it will cost her less embarrassment, and me, perhaps, fewer
+tears.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+But may I ask, Sir, what you have resolved upon with regard to
+Mellefont?
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+Ah, Waitwell, if I could separate him from my daughter's lover, I
+should make some very harsh resolve. But as this cannot be, you see, he
+is saved from my anger. I myself am most to blame in this misfortune.
+But for me Sara would never have made the acquaintance of this
+dangerous man. I admitted him freely into my house on account of an
+obligation under which I believed myself to be to him. It was natural
+that the attention which in gratitude I paid him, should win for him
+the esteem of my daughter. And it was just as natural, that a man of
+his disposition should suffer himself to be tempted by this esteem to
+something more. He had been clever enough to transform it into love
+before I noticed anything at all, and before I had time to inquire into
+his former life. The evil was done, and I should have done well, if I
+had forgiven them everything immediately. I wished to be inexorable
+towards him, and did not consider that I could not be so towards him
+alone. If I had spared my severity, which came too late, I would at
+least have prevented their flight. But here I am now, Waitwell! I must
+fetch them back myself and consider myself happy if only I can make a
+son of a seducer. For who knows whether he will give up his Marwoods
+and his other creatures for the sake of a girl who has left nothing for
+his desires to wish for and who understands so little the bewitching
+arts of a coquette?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Well, Sir, it cannot be possible, that a man could be so wicked----
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+This doubt, good Waitwell, does honour to your virtue. But why, at the
+same time, is it true that the limits of human wickedness extend much
+further still? Go now, and do as I told you! Notice every look as she
+reads my letter. In this short deviation from virtue she cannot yet
+have learned the art of dissimulation, to the masks of which only
+deep-rooted vice can have recourse. You will read her whole soul in her
+face. Do not let a look escape you which might perhaps indicate
+indifference to me--disregard of her father. For if you should
+unhappily discover this, and if she loves me no more, I hope that I
+shall be able to conquer myself and abandon her to her fate. I hope so,
+Waitwell. Alas! would that there were no heart here, to contradict this
+hope.                          (_Exeunt on different sides_.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                         Miss Sara, Mellefont.
+
+                            (Sara's _room_.)
+
+                                MELLEFONT.
+
+I have done wrong, dearest Sara, to leave you in uneasiness about the
+letter which came just now.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh dear, no, Mellefont! I have not been in the least uneasy about it.
+Could you not love me even though you still had secrets from me?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You think, then, that it was a secret?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But not one which concerns me. And that must suffice for me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are only too good. Let me nevertheless reveal my secret to you. The
+letter contained a few lines from a relative of mine, who has heard of
+my being here. She passes through here on her way to London, and would
+like to see me. She has begged at the same time to be allowed the
+honour of paying you a visit.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+It will always be a pleasure to me to make the acquaintance of the
+respected members of your family. But consider for yourself, whether I
+can yet appear before one of them without blushing.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Without blushing? And for what? For your love to me? It is true, Sara,
+you could have given your love to a nobler or a richer man. You must be
+ashamed that you were content to give your heart for another heart
+only, and that in this exchange you lost sight of your happiness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You must know yourself how wrongly you interpret my words.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Pardon me, Sara; if my interpretation is wrong, they can have no
+meaning at all.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What is the name of your relation?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+She is--Lady Solmes. You will have heard me mention the name before.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I don't remember.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+May I beg you to see her?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Beg me? You can command me to do so.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What a word! No, Sara, she shall not have the happiness of seeing you.
+She will regret it, but she must submit to it. Sara has her reasons,
+which I respect without knowing them.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How hasty you are, Mellefont! I shall expect Lady Solmes, and do my
+best to show myself worthy of the honour of her visit. Are you content?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara! let me confess my ambition. I should like to show you to the
+whole world! And were I not proud of the possession of such a being, I
+should reproach myself with not being able to appreciate her value. I
+will go and bring her to you at once. (_Exit_.)
+
+                            SARA (_alone_).
+
+I hope she will not be one of those proud women, who are so full of
+their own virtue that they believe themselves above all failings. With
+one single look of contempt they condemn us, and an equivocal shrug of
+the shoulders is all the pity we seem to deserve in their eyes.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                            Waitwell, Sara.
+
+                      BETTY (_behind the scenes_).
+
+Just come in here, if you must speak to her yourself!
+
+                        SARA (_looking round_).
+
+Who must speak to me? Whom do I see? Is it possible? You, Waitwell?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+How happy I am to see our young lady again!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Good God, what do you bring me? I hear already, I hear already; you
+bring me the news of my father's death! He is gone, the excellent man,
+the best of fathers! He is gone, and I--I am the miserable creature who
+has hastened his death.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Ah, Miss----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Tell me, quick! tell me, that his last moments were not embittered by
+the thought of me; that he had forgotten me; that he died as peacefully
+as he used to hope to die in my arms; that he did not remember me even
+in his last prayer----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Pray do not torment yourself with such false notions! Your father is
+still alive! He is still alive, honest Sir William!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Is he still alive? Is it true? Is he still alive? May he live a long
+while yet, and live happily! Oh, would that God would add the half of
+my years to his life! Half! How ungrateful should I be, if I were not
+willing to buy even a few moments for him with all the years, that may
+yet be mine! But tell me at least, Waitwell, that it is not hard for
+him to live without me; that it was easy to him to renounce a daughter
+who could so easily renounce her virtue, that he is angry with me for
+my flight, but not grieved; that he curses me, but does not mourn for
+me.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Ah! Sir William is still the same fond father, as his Sara is still the
+same fond daughter that she was.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you say? You are a messenger of evil, of the most dreadful of
+all the evils which my imagination has ever pictured to me! He is still
+the same fond father? Then he loves me still? And he must mourn for me,
+then! No no, he does not do so; he cannot do so? Do you not see how
+infinitely each sigh which he wasted on me would magnify my crime?
+Would not the justice of heaven have to charge me with every tear which
+I forced from him, as if with each one I repeated my vice and my
+ingratitude? I grow chill at the thought. I cause him tears? Tears? And
+they are other tears than tears of joy? Contradict me, Waitwell! At
+most he has felt some slight stirring of the blood on my account; some
+transitory emotion, calmed by a slight effort of reason. He did not go
+so far as to shed tears, surely not to shed tears, Waitwell?
+
+                     WAITWELL (_wiping his eyes_).
+
+No, Miss, he did not go so far as that.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Alas! your lips say no, and your eyes say yes.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Take this letter Miss, it is from him himself----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+From whom? From my father? To me?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Yes, take it! You can learn more from it, than I am able to say. He
+ought to have given this to another to do, not to me. I promised myself
+pleasure from it; but you turn my joy into sadness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Give it me, honest Waitwell! But no! I will not take it before you tell
+me what it contains.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+What can it contain? Love and forgiveness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Love? Forgiveness?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+And perhaps a real regret, that he used the rights of a father's power
+against a child, who should only have the privileges of a father's
+kindness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Then keep your cruel letter.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Cruel? Have no fear. Full liberty is granted you over your heart and
+hand.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And it is just this which I fear. To grieve a father such as he, this I
+have had the courage to do. But to see him forced by this very grief-by
+his love which I have forfeited, to look with leniency on all the wrong
+into which an unfortunate passion has led me; this, Waitwell, I could
+not bear. If his letter contained all the hard and angry words which an
+exasperated father can utter in such a case, I should read it--with a
+shudder it is true--but still I should be able to read it. I should be
+able to produce a shadow of defence against his wrath, to make him by
+this defence if possible more angry still. My consolation then would be
+this-that melancholy grief could have no place with violent wrath and
+that the latter would transform itself finally into bitter contempt.
+And we grieve no more for one whom we despise. My father would have
+grown calm again, and I would not have to reproach myself with having
+made him unhappy for ever.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Alas, Miss! You will have to reproach yourself still less for this if
+you now accept his love again, which wishes only to forget everything.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You are mistaken, Waitwell! His yearning for me misleads him, perhaps,
+to give his consent to everything. But no sooner would this desire be
+appeased a little, than he would feel ashamed before himself of his
+weakness. Sullen anger would take possession of him, and he would never
+be able to look at me without silently accusing me of all that I had
+dared to exact from him. Yes, if it were in my power to spare him his
+bitterest grief, when on my account he is laying the greatest restraint
+upon himself; if at a moment when he would grant me everything I could
+sacrifice all to him; then it would be quite a different matter. I
+would take the letter from your hands with pleasure, would admire in it
+the strength of the fatherly love, and, not to abuse this love, I would
+throw myself at his feet a repentant and obedient daughter. But can I
+do that? I shall be obliged to make use of his permission, regardless
+of the price this permission has cost him. And then, when I feel most
+happy, it will suddenly occur to me that he only outwardly appears to
+share my happiness and that inwardly he is sighing--in short, that he
+has made me happy by the renunciation of his own happiness. And to wish
+to be happy in this way,--do you expect that of me, Waitwell?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I truly do not know what answer to give to that.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+There is no answer to it. So take your letter back! If my father must
+be unhappy through me, I will myself remain unhappy also. To be quite
+alone in unhappiness is that for which I now pray Heaven every hour,
+but to be quite alone in my happiness--of that I will not hear.
+
+                          WAITWELL (_aside_).
+
+I really think I shall have to employ deception with this good child to
+get her to read the letter.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What are you saying to yourself?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I was saying to myself that the idea I had hit on to get you to read
+this letter all the quicker was a very clumsy one.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How so?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I could not look far enough. Of course you see more deeply into things
+than such as I. I did not wish to frighten you; the letter is perhaps
+only too hard; and when I said that it contained nothing but love and
+forgiveness, I ought to have said that I wished it might not contain
+anything else.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Is that true? Give it me then! I will read it. If one has been
+unfortunate enough to deserve the anger of one's father, one should at
+least have enough respect for it to submit to the expression of it on
+his part. To try to frustrate it means to heap contempt on insult. I
+shall feel his anger in all its strength. You see I tremble already.
+But I must tremble; and I will rather tremble than weep (_opens the
+letter_). Now it is opened! I sink! But what do I see? (_she reads_)
+"My only, dearest daughter"--ah, you old deceiver, is that the language
+of an angry father? Go, I shall read no more----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Ah, Miss! You will pardon an old servant! Yes, truly, I believe it is
+the first time in my life that I have intentionally deceived any one.
+He who deceives once, Miss, and deceives for so good a purpose, is
+surely no old deceiver on that account. That touches me deeply, Miss! I
+know well that the good intention does not always excuse one; but what
+else could I do? To return his letter unread to such a good father?
+That certainly I cannot do! Sooner will I walk as far as my old legs
+will carry me, and never again come into his presence.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What? You too will leave him?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Shall I not be obliged to do so if you do not read the letter? Read it,
+pray! Do not grudge a good result to the first deceit with which I have
+to reproach myself. You will forget it the sooner, and I shall the
+sooner be able to forgive myself. I am a common, simple man, who must
+not question the reasons why you cannot and will not read the letter.
+Whether they are true, I know not, but at any rate they do not appear
+to me to be natural. I should think thus, Miss: a father, I should
+think, is after all a father; and a child may err for once, and remain
+a good child in spite of it. If the father pardons the error, the child
+may behave again in such a manner that the father may not even think of
+it any more. For who likes to remember what he would rather had never
+happened? It seems, Miss, as if you thought only of your error, and
+believed you atoned sufficiently in exaggerating it in your imagination
+and tormenting yourself with these exaggerated ideas. But, I should
+think, you ought also to consider how you could make up for what has
+happened. And how will you make up for it, if you deprive yourself of
+every opportunity of doing so. Can it be hard for you to take the
+second step, when such a good father has already taken the first?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What daggers pierce my heart in your simple words! That he has to take
+the first step is just what I cannot bear. And, besides, is it only the
+first step which he takes? He must do all! I cannot take a single one
+to meet him. As far as I have gone from him, so far must he descend to
+me. If he pardons me, he must pardon the whole crime, and in addition
+must bear the consequences of it continually before his eyes. Can one
+demand that from a father?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I do not know, Miss, whether I understand this quite right. But it
+seems to me, you mean to say that he would have to forgive you too
+much, and as this could not but be very difficult to him, you make a
+scruple of accepting his forgiveness. If you mean that, tell me, pray,
+is not forgiving a great happiness to a kind heart? I have not been so
+fortunate in my life as to have felt this happiness often. But I still
+remember with pleasure the few instances when I have felt it. I felt
+something so sweet, something so tranquillising, something so divine,
+that I could not help thinking of the great insurpassable blessedness
+of God, whose preservation of miserable mankind is a perpetual
+forgiveness. I wished that I could be forgiving continually, and was
+ashamed that I had only such trifles to pardon. To forgive real painful
+insults, deadly offences, I said to myself, must be a bliss in which
+the whole soul melts. And now, Miss, will you grudge your father such
+bliss?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah! Go on, Waitwell, go on!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I know well there are people who accept nothing less willingly than
+forgiveness, and that because they have never learned to grant it. They
+are proud, unbending people, who will on no account confess that they
+have done wrong. But you do not belong to this kind, Miss! You have the
+most loving and tender of hearts that the best of your sex can have.
+You confess your fault too. Where then is the difficulty? But pardon
+me, Miss! I am an old chatterer, and ought to have seen at once that
+your refusal is only a praiseworthy solicitude, only a virtuous
+timidity. People who can accept a great benefit immediately without any
+hesitation are seldom worthy of it. Those who deserve it most have
+always the greatest mistrust of themselves. Yet mistrust must not be
+pushed beyond limits!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dear old father! I believe you have persuaded me.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+If I have been so fortunate as that it must have been a good spirit
+that has helped me to plead. But no, Miss, my words have done no more
+than given you time to reflect and to recover from the bewilderment of
+joy. You will read the letter now, will you not? Oh, read it at once!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I will do so, Waitwell! What regrets, what pain shall I feel!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Pain, Miss! but pleasant pain.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Be silent! (_begins reading to herself_).
+
+                          WAITWELL (_aside_).
+
+Oh! If he could see her himself!
+
+                 SARA (_after reading a few moments_).
+
+Ah, Waitwell, what a father! He calls my flight "an absence." How much
+more culpable it becomes through this gentle word! (_continues reading
+and interrupts herself again_). Listen! he flatters himself I shall
+love him still. He flatters himself! He begs me--he begs me? A father
+begs his daughter? his culpable daughter? And what does he beg then? He
+begs me to forget his over-hasty severity, and not to punish him any
+longer with my absence. Over-hasty severity! To punish! More still! Now
+he thanks me even, and thanks me that I have given him an opportunity
+of learning the whole extent of paternal love. Unhappy opportunity!
+Would that he also said it had shown him at the same time the extent of
+filial disobedience. No, he does not say it! He does not mention my
+crime with one single word. (_Continues reading_.) He will come himself
+and fetch his children. His children, Waitwell! that surpasses
+everything! Have I read it rightly? (_reads again to herself_) I am
+overcome! He says, that he without whom he could not possess a daughter
+deserves but too well to be his son. Oh that he had never had this
+unfortunate daughter! Go, Waitwell, leave me alone! He wants an answer,
+and I will write it at once. Come again in an hour! I thank you
+meanwhile for your trouble. You are an honest man. Few servants are the
+friends of their masters!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Do not make me blush, Miss! If all masters were like Sir William,
+servants would be monsters, if they would not give their lives for
+them. (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                      SARA (_sits down to write_).
+
+If they had told me a year ago that I should have to answer such a
+letter! And under such circumstances! Yes, I have the pen in my hand.
+But do I know yet what I shall write? What I think; what I feel. And
+what then does one think when a thousand thoughts cross each other in
+one moment? And what does one feel, when the heart is in a stupor from
+a thousand feelings. But I must write! I do not guide the pen for the
+first time. After assisting me in so many a little act of politeness
+and friendship, should its help fail me at the most important office?
+(_She pauses, and then writes a few lines_.) It shall commence so? A
+very cold beginning! And shall I then begin with his love? I must begin
+with my crime. (_She scratches it out and writes again_.) I must be on
+my guard not to express myself too leniently. Shame may be in its place
+anywhere else, but not in the confession of our faults. I need not fear
+falling into exaggeration, even though I employ the most dreadful
+terms. Ah, am I to be interrupted now?
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       Marwood, Mellefont, Sara.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Dearest Sara, I have the honour of introducing Lady Solmes to you; she
+is one of the members of my family to whom I feel myself most indebted.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I must beg your pardon, Madam, for taking the liberty of convincing
+myself with my own eyes of the happiness of a cousin, for whom I should
+wish the most perfect of women if the first moment had not at once
+convinced me, that he has found her already in you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Your ladyship does me too much honour! Such a compliment would have
+made me blush at any time, but now I would almost take it as concealed
+reproach, if I did not think that Lady Solmes is much too generous to
+let her superiority in virtue and wisdom be felt by an unhappy girl.
+
+                          MARWOOD (_coldly_).
+
+I should be inconsolable if you attributed to me any but the most
+friendly feelings towards you. (_Aside_.) She is good-looking.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Would it be possible Madam, to remain indifferent to such beauty, such
+modesty? People say, it is true, that one charming woman rarely does
+another one justice, but this is to be taken only of those who are
+over-vain of their superiority, and on the other hand of those who are
+not conscious of possessing any superiority. How far are you both
+removed from this. (_To_ Marwood, _who stands in deep thought_.) Is it
+not true, Madam, that my love has been anything but partial? Is it not
+true, that though I have said much to you in praise of my Sara, I have
+not said nearly so much as you yourself see? But why so thoughtful.
+(_Aside to her_.) You forget whom you represent.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+May I say it? The admiration of your dear young lady led me to the
+contemplation of her fate. It touched me, that she should not enjoy the
+fruits of her love in her native land. I recollected that she had to
+leave a father, and a very affectionate father as I have been told, in
+order to become yours; and I could not but wish for her reconciliation
+with him.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah, Madam! how much am I indebted to you for this wish. It encourages
+me to tell you the whole of my happiness. You cannot yet know,
+Mellefont, that this wish was granted before Lady Solmes had the
+kindness to wish it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How do you mean, Sara?
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+How am I to interpret that?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I have just received a letter from my father. Waitwell brought it to
+me. Ah, Mellefont, such a letter!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Quick, relieve me from my uncertainty. What have I to fear? What have I
+to hope? Is he still the father from whom we fled? And if he is, will
+Sara be the daughter who loves me so tenderly as to fly again? Alas,
+had I but done as you wished, dearest Sara, we should now be united by
+a bond which no caprice could dissolve. I feel now all the misfortune
+which the discovery of our abode may bring upon me.--He will come and
+tear you out of my arms. How I hate the contemptible being who has
+betrayed us to him (_with an angry glance at_ Marwood).
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dearest Mellefont, how flattering to me is this uneasiness I And how
+happy are we both in that it is unnecessary. Read his letter! (_To_
+Marwood, _whilst_ Mellefont _reads the letter_.) He will be astonished
+at the love of my father. Of my father? Ah, he is _his_ now too.
+
+                         MARWOOD (_perplexed_).
+
+Is it possible?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Yes, Madam, you have good cause to be surprised at this change. He
+forgives us everything; we shall now love each other before his eyes;
+he allows it, he commands it. How has this kindness gone to my very
+soul! Well, Mellefont? (_who returns the letter to her_). You are
+silent? Oh no, this tear which steals from your eye says far more than
+your lips could say.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+How I have injured my own cause. Imprudent woman that I was!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh, let me kiss this tear from your cheek.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara, why was it our fate to grieve such a godlike man? Yes, a
+godlike man, for what is more godlike than to forgive? Could we only
+have imagined such a happy issue possible, we should not now owe it to
+such violent means, we should owe it to our entreaties alone. What
+happiness is in store for me! But how painful also will be the
+conviction, that I am so unworthy of this happiness!
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+And I must be present to hear this.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How perfectly you justify my love by such thoughts.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_.)
+
+What restraint must I put on myself!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You too, Madam, must read my father's letter. You seem to take too
+great an interest in our fate to be indifferent to its contents.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Indifferent? (_takes the letter_).
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But, Madam, you still seem very thoughtful, very sad----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Thoughtful, but not sad!
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+Heavens! If she should betray herself!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And why then thoughtful?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I tremble for you both. Could not this unforeseen kindness of your
+father be a dissimulation? An artifice?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Assuredly not, Madam, assuredly not. Only read and you will admit it
+yourself. Dissimulation is always cold, it is not capable of such
+tender words. (Marwood _reads_.) Do not grow suspicious, Mellefont, I
+beg. I pledge myself that my father cannot condescend to an artifice.
+He says nothing which he does not think, falseness is a vice unknown to
+him.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Oh, of that I am thoroughly convinced, dearest Sara! You must pardon
+Lady Solmes for this suspicion, since she does not know the man whom it
+concerns.
+
+          SARA (_whilst_ Marwood _returns the letter to her_).
+
+What do I see, my lady? You are pale! You tremble! What is the matter
+with you?
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+What anxiety I suffer? Why did I bring her here?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is nothing but a slight dizziness, which will pass over. The night
+air on my journey must have disagreed with me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You frighten me! Would you not like to go into the air? You will
+recover sooner than in a close room.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you think so, give me your arm!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I will accompany your ladyship!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I beg you will not trouble to do so! My faintness will pass over
+immediately.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I hope then, to see you again soon.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you permit me (Mellefont _conducts her out_).
+
+                            SARA (_alone_).
+
+Poor thing! She does not seem exactly the most friendly of people; but
+yet she does not appear to be either proud or ill-tempered. I am alone
+again. Can I employ the few moments, while I remain so, better than by
+finishing my answer? (_Is about to sit down to write_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                              Betty, Sara.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+That was indeed a very short visit.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Yes, Betty! It was Lady Solmes, a relation of my Mellefont. She was
+suddenly taken faint. Where is she now?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Mellefont has accompanied her to the door.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+She is gone again, then?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+I suppose so. But the more I look at you--you must forgive my freedom,
+Miss--the more you seem to me to be altered. There is something calm,
+something contented in your looks. Either Lady Solmes must have been a
+very pleasant visitor, or the old man a very pleasant messenger.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+The latter, Betty, the latter! He came from my father. What a tender
+letter I have for you to read! Your kind heart has often wept with me,
+now it shall rejoice with me, too. I shall be happy again, and be able
+to reward you for your good services.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What services could I render you in nine short weeks?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You could not have done more for me in all the rest of my life, than in
+these nine weeks. They are over! But come now with me, Betty. As
+Mellefont is probably alone again, I must speak to him. It just occurs
+to me that it would be well if he wrote at the same time to my father,
+to whom an expression of gratitude from him could hardly come
+unexpectedly. Come!                               (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                         (_The drawing-room_.)
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+What balm you have poured on my wounded heart with your words,
+Waitwell! I live again, and the prospect of her return seems to carry
+me as far back to my youth as her flight had brought me nearer to my
+grave. She loves me still? What more do I wish! Go back to her soon,
+Waitwell? I am impatient for the moment when I shall fold her again in
+these arms, which I had stretched out so longingly to death! How
+welcome would it have been to me in the moments of my grief! And how
+terrible will it be to me in my new happiness! An old man, no doubt, is
+to be blamed for drawing the bonds so tight again which still unite him
+to the world. The final separation becomes the more painful. But God
+who shows Himself so merciful to me now, will also help me to go
+through this. Would He, I ask, grant me a mercy in order to let it
+become ray ruin in the end? Would He give me back a daughter, that I
+should have to murmur when He calls me from life? No, no! He gives her
+back to me that in my last hour I may be anxious about myself alone.
+Thanks to Thee, Eternal Father! How feeble is the gratitude of mortal
+lips? But soon, soon I shall be able to thank Him more worthily in an
+eternity devoted to Him alone!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+How it delights me, Sir, to know you happy again before my death!
+Believe me, I have suffered almost as much in your grief as you
+yourself. Almost as much, for the grief of a father in such a case must
+be inexpressible.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not regard yourself as my servant any longer, my good Waitwell. You
+have long deserved to enjoy a more seemly old age. I will give it you,
+and you shall not be worse off than I am while I am still in this world.
+I will abolish all difference between us; in yonder world, you well know,
+it will be done. For this once be the old servant still, on whom I never
+relied in vain. Go, and be sure to bring me her answer, as soon as it
+is ready.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I go, Sir! But such an errand is not a service. It is a reward which
+you grant me for my services. Yes, truly it is so! (_Exeunt on
+different sides of the stage_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT IV.
+
+
+                      Scene I.--Mellefont's _room_.
+
+                            Mellefont, Sara.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Yes, dearest Sara, yes! That I will do! That I must do.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How happy you make me!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is I who must take the whole crime upon myself. I alone am guilty; I
+alone must ask for forgiveness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+No, Mellefont, do not take from me the greater share which I have in
+our error! It is dear to me, however wrong it is, for it must have
+convinced you that I love my Mellefont above everything in this world.
+But is it, then, really true, that I may henceforth combine this love
+with the love of my father? Or am I in a pleasant dream? How I fear it
+will pass and I shall awaken in my old misery! But no! I am not merely
+dreaming, I am really happier than I ever dared hope to become; happier
+than this short life may perhaps allow. But perhaps this beam of
+happiness appears in the distance, and delusively seems to approach
+only in order to melt away again into thick darkness, and to leave me
+suddenly in a night whose whole terror has only become perceptible to
+me through this short illumination. What forebodings torment me! Are
+they really forebodings, Mellefont, or are they common feelings, which
+are inseparable from the expectation of an undeserved happiness, and
+the fear of losing it? How fast my heart beats, and how wildly it
+beats. How loud now, how quick! And now how weak, how anxious, how
+quivering! Now it hurries again, as if these were its last throbbings,
+which it would fain beat out rapidly. Poor heart!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The tumult of your blood, which a sudden surprise cannot fail to cause,
+will abate, Sara, and your heart will continue its work more calmly.
+None of its throbs point to aught that is in the future, and we are to
+blame--forgive me, dearest Sara!--if we make the mechanic pressure of
+our blood into a prophet of evil. But I will not leave anything undone
+which you yourself think good to appease this little storm within your
+breast. I will write at once, and I hope that Sir William will be
+satisfied with the assurances of my repentance, with the expressions of
+my stricken heart, and my vows of affectionate obedience.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Sir William? Ah, Mellefont, you must begin now to accustom yourself to
+a far more tender name. My father, your father, Mellefont----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Very well, Sara, our kind, our dear father! I was very young when I
+last used this sweet name; very young, when I had to unlearn the
+equally sweet name of mother.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You had to unlearn it, and I--I was never so happy, as to be able to
+pronounce it at all. My life was her death! O God, I was a guiltless
+matricide! And how much was wanting--how little, how almost nothing was
+wanting to my becoming a parricide too! Not a guiltless, but a
+voluntary parricide. And who knows, whether I am not so already? The
+years, the days, the moments by which he is nearer to his end than he
+would have been without the grief I have caused him--of those I have
+robbed him. However old and weary he may be when Fate shall permit him
+to depart, my conscience will yet be unable to escape the reproach that
+but for me he might have lived yet longer. A sad reproach with which I
+doubtless should not need to charge myself, if a loving mother had
+guided me in my youth. Through her teaching and her example my heart
+would--you look tenderly on me, Mellefont? You are right; a mother
+would perhaps have been a tyrant for very love, and I should not now
+belong to Mellefont. Why do I wish then for that, which a wiser Fate
+denied me out of kindness? Its dispensations are always best. Let us
+only make proper use of that which it gives us; a father who never yet
+let me sigh for a mother; a father who will also teach you to forget
+the parents you lost so soon. What a flattering thought. I fall in love
+with it, and forget almost, that in my innermost heart there is still
+something which refuses to put faith in it. What is this rebellious
+something?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+This something, dearest Sara, as you have already said yourself, is the
+natural, timid incapability to realize a great happiness. Ah, your
+heart hesitated less to believe itself unhappy than now, to its own
+torment, it hesitates to believe in its own happiness! But as to one
+who has become dizzy with quick movement, the external objects still
+appear to move round when again he is sitting still, so the heart which
+has been violently agitated cannot suddenly become calm again; there
+remains often for a long time, a quivering palpitation which we must
+suffer to exhaust itself.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I believe it, Mellefont, I believe it, because you say it, because I
+wish it. But do not let us detain each other any longer! I will go and
+finish my letter. And you will let me read yours, will you not, after I
+have shown you mine?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Each word shall be submitted to your judgment; except what I must say
+in your defence, for I know you do not think yourself so innocent as
+you are. (_Accompanies Sara to the back of the stage_.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+   MELLEFONT (_after walking up and down several times in thought_).
+
+What a riddle I am to myself! What shall I think myself? A fool? Or a
+knave? Heart, what a villain thou art! I love the angel, however much
+of a devil I may be. I love her! Yes, certainly! certainly I love her.
+I feel I would sacrifice a thousand lives for her, for her who
+sacrificed her virtue for me; I would do so,--this very moment without
+hesitation would I do so. And yet, yet--I am afraid to say it to
+myself--and yet--how shall I explain it? And yet I fear the moment
+which will make her mine for ever before the world. It cannot be
+avoided now, for her father is reconciled. Nor shall I be able to put
+it off for long. The delay has already drawn down painful reproaches
+enough upon me. But painful as they were, they were still more
+supportable to me than the melancholy thought of being fettered for
+life. But am I not so already? Certainly,--and with pleasure! Certainly
+I am already her prisoner. What is it I want, then? At present I am a
+prisoner, who is allowed to go about on parole; that is flattering! Why
+cannot the matter rest there? Why must I be put in chains and thus lack
+even the pitiable shadow of freedom? In chains? Quite so! Sara Sampson,
+my beloved! What bliss lies in these words! Sara Sampson, my wife! The
+half of the bliss is gone! and the other half--will go! Monster that I
+am! And with such thoughts shall I write to her father? Yet these are
+not my real thoughts, they are fancies! Cursed fancies, which have
+become natural to me through my dissolute life! I will free myself from
+them, or live no more.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                           Norton, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You disturb me, Norton!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I beg your pardon, Sir (_withdrawing again_).
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+No, no! Stay! It is just as well that you should disturb me. What do
+you want?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I have heard some very good news from Betty, and have come to wish you
+happiness.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+On the reconciliation with her father, I suppose you mean? I thank you.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+So Heaven still means to make you happy.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+If it means to do so,--you see, Norton, I am just towards myself--it
+certainly does not mean it for my sake.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+No, no; if you feel that, then it will be for your sake also.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+For my Sara's sake alone. If its vengeance, already armed, could spare
+the whole of a sinful city for the sake of a few just men, surely it
+can also bear with a sinner, when a soul in which it finds delight, is
+the sharer of his fate.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+You speak with earnestness and feeling. But does not joy express itself
+differently from this?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Joy, Norton? (_Looking sharply at him_.) For me it is gone now for
+ever.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+May I speak candidly?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You may.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+The reproach which I had to hear this morning of having made myself a
+participator in your crimes, because I had been silent about them, may
+excuse me, if I am less silent henceforth.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Only do not forget who you are!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I will not forget that I am a servant, and a servant, alas, who might
+be something better, if he had lived for it. I am your servant, it is
+true, but not so far as to wish to be damned along with you.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+With me? And why do you say that now?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Because I am not a little astonished to find you different from what I
+expected.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Will you not inform me what you expected?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+To find you all delight.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is only the common herd who are beside themselves immediately when
+luck smiles on them for once.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Perhaps, because the common herd still have the feelings which among
+greater people are corrupted and weakened by a thousand unnatural
+notions. But there is something besides moderation to be read in your
+face--coldness, irresolution, disinclination.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And if so? Have you forgotten who is here besides Sara? The presence of
+Marwood----
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Could make you anxious, I daresay, but not despondent. Something else
+troubles you. And I shall be glad to be mistaken in thinking you would
+rather that the father were not yet reconciled. The prospect of a
+position which so little suits your way of thinking----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Norton, Norton! Either you must have been, or still must be, a dreadful
+villain, that you can thus guess my thoughts. Since you have hit the
+nail upon the head, I will not deny it. It is true--so certain as it is
+that I shall love my Sara for ever so little does it please me, that I
+_must_--_must_ love her for ever! But do not fear; I shall conquer this
+foolish fancy. Or do you think that it is no fancy? Who bids me look at
+marriage as compulsion? I certainly do not wish to be freer than she
+will permit me to be.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+These reflections are all very well. But Marwood will come to the aid
+of your old prejudices, and I fear, I fear----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+That which will never happen! You shall see her go back this very
+evening to London. And as I have confessed my most secret--folly we
+will call it for the present--I must not conceal from you either, that
+I have put Marwood into such a fright that she will obey the slightest
+hint from me.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+That sounds incredible to me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Look! I snatched this murderous steel from her hand (_showing the
+dagger which he had taken from_ Marwood) when in a fearful rage she was
+on the point of stabbing me to the heart with it. Will you believe now,
+that I offered her a stout resistance? At first she well nigh succeeded
+in throwing her noose around my neck again. The traitoress!--She has
+Arabella with her.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Arabella?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I have not yet been able to fathom by what cunning she got the child
+back into her hands again. Enough, the result did not fall out as she
+no doubt had expected.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Allow me to rejoice at your firmness, and to consider your reformation
+half assured. Yet,--as you wish me to know all--what business had she
+here under the name of Lady Solmes?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+She wanted of all things to see her rival. I granted her wish partly
+from kindness, partly from rashness, partly from the desire to
+humiliate her by the sight of the best of her sex. You shake your head,
+Norton?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I should not have risked that.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Risked? I did not risk anything more, after all, than what I should
+have had to risk if I had refused her. She would have tried to obtain
+admittance as Marwood; and the worst that can be expected from her
+incognito visit is not worse than that.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Thank Heaven that it went off so quietly.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is not quite over yet, Norton. A slight indisposition came over her
+and compelled her to go away without taking leave. She wants to come
+again. Let her do so! The wasp which has lost its sting (_pointing to
+the dagger_) can do nothing worse than buzz. But buzzing too shall cost
+her dear, if she grows too troublesome with it. Do I not hear somebody
+coming? Leave me if it should be she. It is she. Go! (_Exit_ Norton.)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                          Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No doubt you are little pleased to see me again.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I am very pleased, Marwood, to see that your indisposition has had no
+further consequences. You are better, I hope?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+So, so.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You have not done well, then, to trouble to come here again.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I thank you, Mellefont, if you say this out of kindness to me; and I do
+not take it amiss, if you have another meaning in it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I am pleased to see you so calm.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+The storm is over. Forget it, I beg you once more.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Only remember your promise, Marwood, and I will forget everything with
+pleasure. But if I knew that you would not consider it an offence, I
+should like to ask----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ask on, Mellefont! You cannot offend me any more. What were you going
+to ask?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How you liked my Sara?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+The question is natural. My answer will not seem so natural, but it is
+none the less true for that. I liked her very much.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Such impartiality delights me. But would it be possible for him who
+knew how to appreciate the charms of a Marwood to make a bad choice?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You ought to have spared me this flattery, Mellefont, if it is
+flattery. It is not in accordance with our intention to forget each
+other.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You surely do not wish me to facilitate this intention by rudeness? Do
+not let our separation be of an ordinary nature. Let us break with each
+other as people of reason who yield to necessity; without bitterness,
+without anger, and with the preservation of a certain degree of
+respect, as behoves our former intimacy.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Former intimacy! I do not wish to be reminded of it. No more of it.
+What must be, must, and it matters little how. But one word more about
+Arabella. You will not let me have her?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+No, Marwood!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is cruel, since you can no longer be her father, to take her mother
+also from her.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I can still be her father, and will be so.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Prove it, then, now!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Permit Arabella to have the riches which I have in keeping for you, as
+her father's inheritance. As to her mother's inheritance I wish I could
+leave her a better one than the shame of having been borne by me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do not speak so! I shall provide for Arabella without embarrassing her
+mother's property. If she wishes to forget me, she must begin by
+forgetting that she possesses anything from me. I have obligations
+towards her, and I shall never forget that really--though against her
+will--she has promoted my happiness. Yes, Marwood, in all seriousness I
+thank you for betraying our retreat to a father whose ignorance of it
+alone prevented him from receiving us again.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Do not torture me with gratitude which I never wished to deserve. Sir
+William is too good an old fool; he must think differently from what I
+should have thought in his place. I should have forgiven my daughter,
+but as to her seducer I should have----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+True; you yourself are the seducer! I am silent. Shall I be presently
+allowed to pay my farewell visit to Miss Sampson?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Sara could not be offended, even if you left without seeing her again.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont, I do not like playing my part by halves, and I have no wish
+to be taken, even under an assumed name, for a woman without breeding.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+If you care for your own peace of mind you ought to avoid seeing a
+person again who must awaken certain thoughts in you which----
+
+                   MARWOOD (_smiling disdainfully_).
+
+You have a better opinion of yourself than of me. But even if you
+believed that I should be inconsolable on your account, you ought at
+least to believe it in silence.--Miss Sampson would awaken certain
+thoughts in me? Certain thoughts! Oh yes; but none more certain than
+this--that the best girl can often love the most worthless man.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Charming, Marwood, perfectly charming. Now you are as I have long
+wished to see you; although I could almost have wished, as I told you
+before, that we could have retained some respect for each other. But
+this may perhaps come still when once your fermenting heart has cooled
+down. Excuse me for a moment. I will fetch Miss Sampson to see you.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       MARWOOD (_looking round_).
+
+Am I alone? Can I take breath again unobserved, and let the muscles of
+my face relax into their natural position? I must just for a moment be
+the true Marwood in all my features to be able again to bear the
+restraint of dissimulation! How I hate thee, base dissimulation! Not
+because I love sincerity, but because thou art the most pitiable refuge
+of powerless revenge. I certainly would not condescend to thee, if a
+tyrant would lend me his power or Heaven its thunderbolt.--Yet, if thou
+only servest my end! The beginning is promising, and Mellefont seems
+disposed to grow more confident. If my device succeeds and I can speak
+alone with his Sara; then-yes, then, it is still very uncertain whether
+it will be of any use to me. The truths about Mellefont will perhaps be
+no novelty to her; the calumnies she will perhaps not believe, and the
+threats, perhaps, despise. But yet she shall hear truths, calumnies and
+threats. It would be bad, if they did not leave any sting at all in her
+mind. Silence; they are coming. I am no longer Marwood, I am a
+worthless outcast, who tries by little artful tricks to turn aside her
+shame,--a bruised worm, which turns and fain would wound at least the
+heel of him who trod upon it.
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                       Sara, Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I am happy, Madam, that my uneasiness on your account has been
+unnecessary.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I thank you! The attack was so insignificant that it need not have made
+you uneasy.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Lady Solmes wishes to take leave of you, dearest Sara!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+So soon, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I cannot go soon enough for those who desire my presence in London.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You surely are not going to leave to-day?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+To-morrow morning, first thing.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+To-morrow morning, first thing? I thought to-day.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Our acquaintance, Madam, commences hurriedly. I hope to be honoured
+with a more intimate intercourse with you at some future time.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I solicit your friendship, Miss Sampson.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I pledge myself, dearest Sara, that this desire of Lady Solmes is
+sincere, although I must tell you beforehand that you will certainly
+not see each other again for a long time. Lady Solmes will very rarely
+be able to live where we are.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+How subtle!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+That is to deprive me of a very pleasant anticipation, Mellefont!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I shall be the greatest loser!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But in reality, Madam, do you not start before tomorrow morning?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It may be sooner! (_Aside_.) No one comes.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+We do not wish to remain much longer here either. It will be well, will
+it not, Sara, to follow our answer without delay? Sir William cannot be
+displeased with our haste.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                    Betty, Mellefont, Sara, Marwood.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What is it, Betty?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Somebody wishes to speak with you immediately.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+Ha! now all depends on whether----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Me? Immediately? I will come at once. Madam, is it agreeable to you to
+shorten your visit?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Why so, Mellefont? Lady Solmes will be so kind as to wait for your
+return.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Pardon me; I know my cousin Mellefont, and prefer to depart with him.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+The stranger, sir--he wishes only to say a word to you. He says, that
+he has not a moment to lose.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Go, please! I will be with him directly. I expect it will be some news
+at last about the agreement which I mentioned to you. (_Exit_ Betty.)
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+A good conjecture!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But still, Madam----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you order it, then, I must bid you----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh no, Mellefont; I am sure you will not grudge me the pleasure of
+entertaining Lady Solmes during your absence?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You wish it, Sara?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not stay now, dearest Mellefont, but come back again soon! And come
+with a more joyful face, I will wish! You doubtless expect an
+unpleasant answer. Don't let this disturb you. I am more desirous to
+see whether after all you can gracefully prefer me to an inheritance,
+than I am to know that you are in the possession of one.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I obey. (_In a warning tone_.) I shall be sure to come back in a
+moment, Madam.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+Lucky so far.                                  (_Exit_ Mellefont.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                             Sara, Marwood.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+My good Mellefont sometimes gives his polite phrases quite a wrong
+accent. Do not you think so too, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am no doubt too much accustomed to his way already to notice anything
+of that sort.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Will you not take a seat, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you desire it. (_Aside, whilst they are seating themselves_.) I must
+not let this moment slip by unused.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Tell me! Shall I not be the most enviable of women with my Mellefont?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If Mellefont knows how to appreciate his happiness, Miss Sampson will
+make him the most enviable of men. But----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+A "but," and then a pause, Madam----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am frank, Miss Sampson.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And for this reason infinitely more to be esteemed.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Frank--not seldom imprudently so. My "but" is a proof of it. A very
+imprudent "but."
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not think that my Lady Solmes can wish through this evasion to
+make me more uneasy. It must be a cruel mercy that only rouses
+suspicions of an evil which it might disclose.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Not at all, Miss Sampson! You attach far too much importance to my
+"but." Mellefont is a relation of mine----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Then all the more important is the slightest charge which you have to
+make against him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But even were Mellefont my brother, I must tell you, that I should
+unhesitatingly side with one of my own sex against him, if I perceived
+that he did not act quite honestly towards her. We women ought properly
+to consider every insult shown to one of us as an insult to the whole
+sex, and to make it a common affair, in which even the sister and
+mother of the guilty one ought not to hesitate to share.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+This remark----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Has already been my guide now and then in doubtful cases.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And promises me--I tremble.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No, Miss Sampson, if you mean to tremble, let us speak of something
+else----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Cruel woman!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am sorry to be misunderstood. I at least, if I place myself in
+imagination in Miss Sampson's position, would regard as a favour any
+more exact information which one might give me about the man with whose
+fate I was about to unite my own for ever.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you wish, Madam? Do I not know my Mellefont already? Believe me
+I know him, as I do my own soul. I know that he loves me----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And others----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+_Has_ loved others. That I know also. Was he to love me, before he knew
+anything about me? Can I ask to be the only one who has had charm
+enough to attract him? Must I not confess it to myself, that I have
+striven to please him? Is he not so lovable, that he must have awakened
+this endeavour in many a breast? And isn't it but natural, if several
+have been successful in their endeavour?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You defend him with just the same ardour and almost the same words with
+which I have often defended him already. It is no crime to have loved;
+much less still is it a crime to have been loved. But fickleness is a
+crime.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Not always; for often, I believe, it is rendered excusable by the
+objects of one's love, which seldom deserve to be loved for ever.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Miss Sampson's doctrine of morals does not seem to be of the strictest.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+It is true; the one by which I judge those who themselves confess that
+they have taken to bad ways is not of the strictest. Nor should it be
+so. For here it is not a question of fixing the limits which virtue
+marks out for love, but merely of excusing the human weakness that has
+not remained within those limits and of judging the consequences
+arising therefrom by the rules of wisdom. If, for example, a Mellefont
+loves a Marwood and eventually abandons her; this abandonment is very
+praiseworthy in comparison with the love itself. It would be a
+misfortune if he had to love a vicious person for ever because he once
+had loved her.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But do you know this Marwood, whom you so confidently call a vicious
+person?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I know her from Mellefont's description.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont's? Has it never occurred to you then that Mellefont must be a
+very invalid witness in his own affairs?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I see now, Madam, that you wish to put me to the test. Mellefont will
+smile, when you repeat to him how earnestly I have defended him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I beg your pardon, Miss Sampson, Mellefont must not hear anything about
+this conversation. You are of too noble a mind to wish out of gratitude
+for a well-meant warning to estrange from him a relation, who speaks
+against him only because she looks upon his unworthy behaviour towards
+more than one of the most amiable of her sex as if she herself had
+suffered from it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not wish to estrange anyone, and would that others wished it as
+little as I do.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Shall I tell you the story of Marwood in a few words?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not know. But still--yes, Madam! but under the condition that you
+stop as soon as Mellefont returns. He might think that I had inquired
+about it myself; and I should not like him to think me capable of a
+curiosity so prejudicial to him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I should have asked the same caution of Miss Sampson, if she had not
+anticipated me. He must not even be able to suspect that Marwood has
+been our topic; and you will be so cautious as to act in accordance
+with this. Hear now! Marwood is of good family. She was a young widow,
+when Mellefont made her acquaintance at the house of one of her
+friends. They say, that she lacked neither beauty, nor the grace
+without which beauty would be nothing. Her good name was spotless.
+One single thing was wanting. Money. Everything that she had
+possessed,--and she is said to have had considerable wealth,--she had
+sacrificed for the deliverance of a husband from whom she thought it
+right to withhold nothing, after she had willed to give him heart and
+hand.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Truly a noble trait of character, which I wish could sparkle in a
+better setting!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+In spite of her want of fortune she was sought by persons, who wished
+nothing more than to make her happy. Mellefont appeared amongst her
+rich and distinguished admirers. His offer was serious, and the
+abundance in which he promised to place Marwood was the least on which
+he relied. He knew, in their earliest intimacy, that he had not to deal
+with an egoist, but with a woman of refined feelings, who would have
+preferred to live in a hut with one she loved, than in a palace with
+one for whom she did not care.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Another trait which I grudge Miss Marwood. Do not flatter her any more,
+pray, Madam, or I might be led to pity her at last.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont was just about to unite himself with her with due solemnity,
+when he received the news of the death of a cousin who left him his
+entire fortune on the condition that he should marry a distant
+relation. As Marwood had refused richer unions for his sake, he would
+not now yield to her in generosity. He intended to tell her nothing of
+this inheritance, until he had forfeited it through her. That was
+generously planned, was it not?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh, Madam, who knows better than I, that Mellefont possesses the most
+generous of hearts?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But what did Marwood do? She heard late one evening, through some
+friends, of Mellefont's resolution. Mellefont came in the morning to
+see her, and Marwood was gone.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Whereto? Why?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+He found nothing but a letter from her, in which she told him that he
+must not expect ever to see her again. She did not deny, though, that
+she loved him; but for this very reason she could not bring herself to
+be the cause of an act, of which he must necessarily repent some day.
+She released him from his promise, and begged him by the consummation
+of the union, demanded by the will, to enter without further delay into
+the possession of a fortune, which an honourable man could employ for a
+better purpose than the thoughtless flattery of a woman.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But, Madam, why do you attribute such noble sentiments to Marwood? Lady
+Solmes may be capable of such, I daresay, but not Marwood. Certainly
+not Marwood.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is not surprising, that you are prejudiced against her. Mellefont
+was almost distracted at Marwood's resolution. He sent people in all
+directions to search for her, and at last found her.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+No doubly because she wished to be found!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No bitter jests! They do not become a woman of such gentle disposition.
+I say, he found her; and found her inexorable. She would not accept his
+hand on any account; and the promise to return to London was all that
+he could get from her. They agreed to postpone their marriage until his
+relative, tired of the long delay, should be compelled to propose an
+arrangement. In the meantime Marwood could not well renounce the daily
+visits from Mellefont, which for a long time were nothing but the
+respectful visits of a suitor, who has been ordered back within the
+bounds of friendship. But how impossible is it for a passionate temper
+not to transgress these bounds. Mellefont possesses everything which
+can make a man dangerous to us. Nobody can be more convinced of this
+than you yourself, Miss Sampson.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Alas!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You sigh! Marwood too has sighed more than once over her weakness, and
+sighs yet.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Enough, Madam, enough! These words I should think, are worse than the
+bitter jest which you were pleased to forbid me.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Its intention was not to offend you, but only to show you the unhappy
+Marwood in a light, in which you could most correctly judge her. To be
+brief--love gave Mellefont the rights of a husband; and Mellefont did
+not any longer consider it necessary to have them made valid by the
+law. How happy would Marwood be, if she, Mellefont, and Heaven alone
+knew of her shame! How happy if a pitiable daughter did not reveal to
+the whole world that which she would fain be able to hide from herself.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you say? A daughter----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Yes, through the intervention of Sara Sampson, an unhappy daughter
+loses all hope of ever being able to name her parents without
+abhorrence.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Terrible words! And Mellefont has concealed this from me? Am I to
+believe it, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You may assuredly believe that Mellefont has perhaps concealed still
+more from you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Still more? What more could he have concealed from me?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+This,--that he still loves Marwood.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You will kill me!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is incredible that a love which has lasted more than ten years can
+die away so quickly. It may certainly suffer a short eclipse, but
+nothing but a short one, from which it breaks forth again with renewed
+brightness. I could name to you a Miss Oclaff, a Miss Dorcas, a Miss
+Moore, and several others, who one after another threatened to alienate
+from Marwood the man by whom they eventually saw themselves most
+cruelly deceived. There is a certain point beyond which he cannot go,
+and as soon as he gets face to face with it he draws suddenly back. But
+suppose, Miss Sampson, you were the one fortunate woman in whose case
+all circumstances declared themselves against him; suppose you
+succeeded in compelling him to conquer the disgust of a formal yoke
+which has now become innate to him; do you then expect to make sure of
+his heart in this way?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Miserable girl that I am! What must I hear?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Nothing less than that! He would then hurry back all the more into the
+arms of her who had not been so jealous of his liberty. You would be
+called his wife and she would be it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not torment me longer with such dreadful pictures! Advise me rather,
+Madam, I pray you, advise me what to do. You must know him! You must
+know by what means it may still be possible to reconcile him with a
+bond without which even the most sincere love remains an unholy
+passion.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+That one can catch a bird, I well know; but that one can render its
+cage more pleasant than the open field, I do not know. My advice,
+therefore, would be that one should rather not catch it, and should
+spare oneself the vexation of the profitless trouble. Content yourself,
+young lady, with the pleasure of having seen him very near your net;
+and as you can foresee, that he would certainly tear it if you tempted
+him in altogether, spare your net and do not tempt him in.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not know whether I rightly understand your playful parable----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you are vexed with it, you have understood it. In one word. Your own
+interest as well as that of another--wisdom as well as justice, can,
+and must induce Miss Sampson to renounce her claims to a man to whom
+Marwood has the first and strongest claim. You are still in such a
+position with regard to him that you can withdraw, I will not say with
+much honour, but still without public disgrace. A short disappearance
+with a lover is a stain, it is true; but still a stain which time
+effaces. In some years all will be forgotten, and for a rich heiress
+there are always men to be found, who are not so scrupulous. If Marwood
+were in such a position, and she needed no husband for her fading
+charms nor father for her helpless daughter, I am sure she would act
+more generously towards Miss Sampson than Miss Sampson acts towards her
+when raising these dishonourable difficulties.
+
+                        SARA (_rising angrily_).
+
+This is too much! Is that the language of a relative of Mellefont's?
+How shamefully you are betrayed, Mellefont! Now I perceive, Madam, why
+he was so unwilling to leave you alone with me. He knows already, I
+daresay, how much one has to fear from your tongue. A poisoned tongue!
+I speak boldly--for your unseemly talk has continued long enough. How
+has Marwood been able to enlist such a mediator; a mediator who summons
+all her ingenuity to force upon me a dazzling romance about her; und
+employs every art to rouse my suspicion against the loyalty of a man,
+who is a man but not a monster? Was it only for this that I was told
+that Marwood boasted of a daughter from him; only for this that I was
+told of this and that forsaken girl--in order that you might be enabled
+to hint to me in cruel fashion that I should do well if I gave place to
+a hardened strumpet!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Not so passionate, if you please, young lady! A hardened strumpet? You
+are surely using words whose full meaning you have not considered.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Does she not appear such, even from Lady Solmes's description? Well,
+Madam, you are her friend, perhaps her intimate friend. I do not say
+this as a reproach, for it may well be that it is hardly possible in
+this world to have virtuous friends only. Yet why should I be so
+humiliated for the sake of this friendship of yours? If I had had
+Marwood's experience, I should certainly not have committed the error
+which places me on such a humiliating level with her. But if I had
+committed it, I should certainly not have continued in it for ten
+years. It is one thing to fall into vice from ignorance; and another to
+grow intimate with it when you know it. Alas, Madam, if you knew what
+regret, what remorse, what anxiety my error has cost me! My error, I
+say, for why shall I be so cruel to myself any longer, and look upon it
+as a crime? Heaven itself ceases to consider it such; it withdraws my
+punishment, and gives me back my father.--But I am frightened, Madam;
+how your features are suddenly transformed! They glow-rage speaks from
+the fixed eye, and the quivering movement of the mouth. Ah, if I have
+vexed you, Madam, I beg for pardon! I am a foolish, sensitive creature;
+what you have said was doubtless not meant so badly. Forget my
+rashness! How can I pacify you? How can I also gain a friend in you as
+Marwood has done? Let me, let me entreat you on my knees (_falling down
+upon her knees_) for your friendship, and if I cannot have this, at
+least for the justice not to place me and Marwood in one and the same
+rank.
+
+    MARWOOD (_proudly stepping back and leaving Sara on her knees_).
+
+This position of Sara Sampson is too charming for Marwood to triumph in
+it unrecognised. In me, Miss Sampson, behold the Marwood with whom on
+your knees you beg--Marwood herself--not to compare you.
+
+           SARA (_springing up and drawing back in terror_).
+
+You Marwood? Ha! Now I recognise her--now I recognise the murderous
+deliverer, to whose dagger a warning dream exposed me. It is she! Away,
+unhappy Sara! Save me, Mellefont; save your beloved! And thou, sweet
+voice of my beloved father, call! Where does it call? Whither shall I
+hasten to it?--here?--there?--Help, Mellefont! Help, Betty! Now she
+approaches me with murderous hand! Help! (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+What does the excitable girl mean? Would that she spake the truth, and
+that I approached her with murderous hand! I ought to have spared the
+dagger until now, fool that I was! What delight to be able to stab a
+rival at one's feet in her voluntary humiliation! What now? I am
+detected. Mellefont may be here this minute. Shall I fly from him?
+Shall I await him? I will wait, but not in idleness. Perhaps the
+cunning of my servant will detain him long enough? I see I am feared.
+Why do I not follow her then? Why do I not try the last expedient which
+I can use against her? Threats are pitiable weapons; but despair
+despises no weapons, however pitiable they may be. A timid girl, who
+flies stupid and terror-stricken from my mere name, can easily take
+dreadful words for dreadful deeds. But Mellefont! Mellefont will give
+her fresh courage, and teach her to scorn my threats. He will! Perhaps
+he will not! Few things would have been undertaken in this world, if
+men had always looked to the end. And am I not prepared for the most
+fatal end? The dagger was for others, the drug is for me! The drug
+for me! Long carried by me near my heart, it here awaits its sad
+service; here, where in better times I hid the written flatteries of my
+lovers,--poison for us equally sure if slower. Would it were not
+destined to rage in my veins only! Would that a faithless one--why do I
+waste my time in wishing? Away! I must not recover my reason nor she
+hers. He will dare nothing, who wishes to dare in cold blood!
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT V.
+
+
+                                Scene I.
+
+                             Sara's _room_.
+
+               Sara (_reclining in an armchair_), Betty.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Do you feel a little better, Miss?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Better--I wish only that Mellefont would return! You have sent for him,
+have you not?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Norton and the landlord have gone for him.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Norton is a good fellow, but he is rash. I do not want him by any means
+to be rude to his master on my account. According to his story,
+Mellefont is innocent of all this. She follows him; what can he do? She
+storms, she raves, she tries to murder him. Do you see, Betty, I have
+exposed him to this danger? Who else but me? And the wicked Marwood at
+last insisted on seeing me or she would not return to London. Could he
+refuse her this trifling request? Have not I too often been curious to
+see Marwood. Mellefont knows well that we are curious creatures. And if
+I had not insisted myself that she should remain with me until his
+return, he would have taken her away with him. I should have seen her
+under a false name, without knowing that I had seen her. And I should
+perhaps have been pleased with this little deception at some future
+time. In short, it is all my fault. Well, well, I was frightened;
+nothing more! The swoon was nothing. You know, Betty, I am subject to
+such fits.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+But I had never seen you in so deep a swoon before.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not tell me so, please! I must have caused you a great deal of
+trouble, my good girl.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Marwood herself seemed moved by your danger. In spite of all I could do
+she would not leave the room, until you had opened your eyes a little
+and I could give you the medicine.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+After all I must consider it fortunate that I swooned. For who knows
+what more I should have had to hear from her! She certainly can hardly
+have followed me into my room without a purpose! You cannot imagine how
+terrified I was. The dreadful dream I had last night recurred to me
+suddenly, and I fled, like an insane woman who does not know why and
+whither she flies. But Mellefont does not come. Ah!
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What a sigh, Miss! What convulsions!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+God! what sensation was this----
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What was that?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Nothing, Betty! A pain! Not one pain, a thousand burning pains in one!
+But do not be uneasy; it is over now!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                          Norton, Sara, Betty.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Mellefont will be here in a moment.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+That is well, Norton! But where did you find him?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+A stranger had enticed him beyond the town gate, where he said a
+gentleman waited for him, to speak with him about matters of the
+greatest importance. After taking him from place to place for a long
+time, the swindler slunk away from him. It will be bad for him if he
+lets himself be caught; Mellefont is furious.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Did you tell him what has happened?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+All.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But in such a way!----
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I could not think about the way. Enough! He knows what anxiety his
+imprudence has again caused you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Not so, Norton; I have caused it myself.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Why may Mellefont never be in the wrong? Come in, sir; love has already
+excused you.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    Mellefont, Norton, Sara, Betty.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara! If this love of yours were not----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Then I should certainly be the unhappier of the two. If nothing more
+vexatious has happened to you in your absence than to me, I am happy.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I have not deserved to be so kindly received.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let my weakness be my excuse, that I do not receive you more tenderly.
+If only for your sake, I would that I was well again.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ha! Marwood! this treachery too! The scoundrel who led me with a
+mysterious air from one street to another can assuredly have been a
+messenger of her only! See, dearest Sara, she employed this artifice to
+get me away from you. A clumsy artifice certainly, but just from its
+very clumsiness, I was far from taking it for one. She shall have her
+reward for this treachery! Quick, Norton, go to her lodgings; do not
+lose sight of her, and detain her until I come!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What for, Mellefont? I intercede for Marwood.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Go!                                               (_Exit_ Norton.)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                        Sara, Mellefont, Betty.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Pray let the wearied enemy who has ventured the last fruitless assault
+retire in peace! Without Marwood I should be ignorant of much----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Much? What is the "much?"
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What you would not have told me, Mellefont! You start! Well, I will
+forget it again, since you do not wish me to know it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I hope that you will not believe any ill of me which has no better
+foundation than the jealousy of an angry slanderer.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+More of this another time! But why do you not tell me first of all
+about the danger in which your precious life was placed? I, Mellefont,
+I should have been the one who had sharpened the sword, with which
+Marwood had stabbed you.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The danger was not so great. Marwood was driven by blind passion, and I
+was cool, so her attack could not but fail. I only wish that she may
+not have been more successful with another attack--upon Sara's good
+opinion of her Mellefont! I must almost fear it. No, dearest Sara, do
+not conceal from me any longer what you have learned from her.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Well! If I had still had the least doubt of your love, Mellefont,
+Marwood in her anger would have removed it. She surely must feel that
+through me she has lost that which is of the greatest value to her; for
+an uncertain loss would have let her act more cautiously.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I shall soon learn to set some store by her bloodthirsty jealousy, her
+impetuous insolence, her treacherous cunning! But Sara! You wish again
+to evade my question and not to reveal to me----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I will; and what I said was indeed a step towards it. That Mellefont
+loves me, then, is undeniably certain. If only I had not discovered
+that his love lacked a certain confidence, which would be as flattering
+to me as his love itself. In short, dearest Mellefont--Why does a
+sudden anxiety make it so difficult for me to speak?--Well, I suppose I
+shall have to tell it without seeking for the most prudent form in
+which to say it. Marwood mentioned a pledge of love; and the talkative
+Norton--forgive him, pray--told me a name--a name, Mellefont, which
+must rouse in you another tenderness than that which you feel for me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Is it possible? Has the shameless woman confessed her own disgrace?
+Alas, Sara, have pity on my confusion! Since you already know all, why
+do you wish to hear it again from my lips? She shall never come into
+your sight,--the unhappy child, who has no other fault than that of
+having such a mother.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You love her, then, in spite of all?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Too much, Sara, too much for me to deny it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah, Mellefont! How I too love you, for this very love's sake! You would
+have offended me deeply, if you had denied the sympathy of your blood
+for any scruples on my account. You have hurt me already in that you
+have threatened me never to let her come into my sight. No, Mellefont!
+That you will never forsake Arabella must be one of the promises which
+you vow to me in presence of the Almighty! In the hands of her mother
+she is in danger of becoming unworthy of her father. Use your authority
+over both, and let me take the place of Marwood. Do not refuse me the
+happiness of bringing up for myself a friend who owes her life to
+you--a Mellefont of my own sex. Happy days, when my father, when you,
+when Arabella will vie in your calls on my filial respect, my confiding
+love, my watchful friendship. Happy days! But, alas! They are still far
+distant in the future. And perhaps even the future knows nothing of
+them, perhaps they exist only in my own desire for happiness!
+Sensations, Mellefont, sensations which I never before experienced,
+turn my eyes to another prospect. A dark prospect, with awful shadows!
+What sensations are these? (_puts her hand before her face_.)
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What sudden change from exultation to terror! Hasten, Betty! Bring
+help! What ails you, generous Sara! Divine soul! Why does this jealous
+hand (_moving it away_) hide these sweet looks from me? Ah, they are
+looks which unwillingly betray cruel pain. And yet this hand is jealous
+to hide these looks from me. Shall I not share your pain with you?
+Unhappy man, that I can only share it--that I may not feel it alone!
+Hasten, Betty!
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Whither shall I hasten?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You see, and yet ask? For help!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Stay. It passes over. I will not frighten you again, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What has happened to her, Betty? These are not merely the results of a
+swoon.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                    Norton, Mellefont, Sara, Betty.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are back again already, Norton? That is well! You will be of more
+use here.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Marwood is gone----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And my curses follow her! She is gone? Whither? May misfortune and
+death, and, were it possible, a whole hell lie in her path! May Heaven
+thunder a consuming fire upon her, may the earth burst open under her,
+and swallow the greatest of female monsters!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+As soon as she returned to her lodgings, she threw herself into her
+carriage, together with Arabella and her maid, and hurried away, at
+full gallop. This sealed note was left behind for you.
+
+                     MELLEFONT (_taking the note_).
+
+It is addressed to me. Shall I read it, Sara?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+When you are calmer, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Calmer? Can I be calmer, before I have revenged myself on her, and
+before I know that you are out of danger, dearest Sara?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let me not hear of revenge! Revenge is not ours.--But you open the
+letter? Alas, Mellefont! Why are we less prone to certain virtues with
+a healthy body, which feels its strength, than with a sick and wearied
+one? How hard are gentleness and moderation to you, and how unnatural
+to me appears the impatient heat of passion! Keep the contents for
+yourself alone.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What spirit is it that seems to compel me to disobey you? I opened it
+against my will, and against my will I must read it!
+
+             SARA (_whilst_ Mellefont _reads to himself_).
+
+How cunningly man can disunite his nature, and make of his passions
+another being than himself, on whom he can lay the blame for that which
+in cold blood he disapproves.--The water, Betty! I fear another shock,
+and shall need it. Do you see what effect the unlucky note has on him?
+Mellefont! You lose your senses, Mellefont! God! he is stunned! Here,
+Betty. Hand him the water! He needs it more than I.
+
+                  MELLEFONT (_pushing_ Betty _back_).
+
+Back, unhappy girl! Your medicines are poison!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you say? Recover yourself! You do not recognise her.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+I am Betty,--take it!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Wish rather, unhappy girl, that you were not she! Quick! Fly, before in
+default of the guiltier one you become the guilty victim of my rage.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What words! Mellefont, dearest Mellefont----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The last "dearest Mellefont" from these divine lips, and then no more
+for ever! At your feet, Sara----(_throwing himself down_). But why at
+your feet? (_springing up again_). Disclose it? I disclose it to you?
+Yes! I will tell you, that you will hate me, that you must hate me! You
+shall not hear the contents, no, not from me. But you will hear them.
+You will----Why do you all stand here, stock still, doing nothing?
+Run, Norton, bring all the doctors? Seek help, Betty! Let your help be
+as effective as your error! No, stop here! I will go myself----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Whither, Mellefont? Help for what? Of what error do you speak?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Divine help, Sara! or inhuman revenge! You are lost, dearest Sara! I
+too am lost! Would the world were lost with us!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                          Sara, Norton, Betty.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+He is gone! I am lost? What does he mean? Do you understand him,
+Norton? I am ill, very ill; but suppose the worst, that I must die, am
+I therefore lost? And why does he blame you, poor Betty? You wring your
+hands? Do not grieve; you cannot have offended him; he will bethink
+himself; Had he only done as I wished, and not read the note! He could
+have known that it must contain the last poisoned words from Marwood.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What terrible suspicion! No, it cannot be. I do not believe it!
+
+         NORTON (_who has gone towards the back of the stage_).
+
+Your father's old servant, Miss.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let him come in, Norton.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Waitwell, Sara, Betty, Norton.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I suppose you are anxious for my answer, dear Waitwell. It is ready
+except a few lines. But why so alarmed? They must have told you that I
+am ill.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+And more still.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dangerously ill? I conclude so from Mellefont's passionate anxiety
+more than from my own feelings. Suppose, Waitwell, you should have
+to go with an unfinished letter from your unhappy Sara to her still
+more unhappy father! Let us hope for the best! Will you wait until
+to-morrow? Perhaps I shall find a few good moments to finish off the
+letter to your satisfaction. At present, I cannot do so. This hand
+hangs as if dead by my benumbed side. If the whole body dies away as
+easily as these limbs----you are an old man, Waitwell, and cannot be
+far from the last scene. Believe me, if that which I feel is the
+approach of death, then the approach of death is not so bitter. Ah! Do
+not mind this sigh! Wholly without unpleasant sensation it cannot be.
+Man could not be void of feeling; he must not be impatient. But, Betty,
+why are you so inconsolable?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Permit me, Miss, permit me to leave you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Go; I well know it is not every one who can bear to be with the dying.
+Waitwell shall remain with me! And you, Norton, will do me a favour, if
+you go and look for your master. I long for his presence.
+
+                            BETTY (_going_).
+
+Alas, Norton, I took the medicine from Marwood's hands!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                            Waitwell, Sara.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Waitwell, if you will do me the kindness to remain with me, you must
+not let me see such a melancholy face. You are mute! Speak, I pray! And
+if I may ask it, speak of my father! Repeat all the comforting words
+which you said to me a few hours ago. Repeat them to me, and tell me
+too, that the Eternal Heavenly Father cannot be less merciful. I can
+die with that assurance, can I not? Had this befallen me before your
+arrival, how would I have fared? I should have despaired, Waitwell. To
+leave this world burdened with the hatred of him, who belies his
+nature when he is forced to hate--what a thought! Tell him that I died
+with the feelings of the deepest remorse, gratitude and love. Tell
+him--alas, that I shall not tell him myself--how full my heart is of
+all the benefits I owe to him. My life was the smallest amongst them.
+Would that I could yield up at his feet the ebbing portion yet
+remaining!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Do you really wish to see him, Miss?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+At length you speak--to doubt my deepest, my last desire!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Where shall I find the words which I have so long been vainly seeking?
+A sudden joy is as dangerous as a sudden terror. I fear only that the
+effect of his unexpected appearance might be too violent for so tender
+a heart!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you mean? The unexpected appearance of whom?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Of the wished-for one! Compose yourself!
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                  Sir William Sampson, Sara, Waitwell.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+You stay too long, Waitwell! I must see her!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Whose voice----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Oh, my daughter!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh, my father! Help me to rise, Waitwell, help me to rise that I may
+throw myself at his feet, (_she endeavours to rise and falls back again
+into the arm-chair_). Is it he, or is it an apparition sent from heaven
+like the angel who came to strengthen the Strong One? Bless me, whoever
+thou art, whether a messenger from the Highest in my father's form or
+my father himself!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+God bless thee, my daughter! Keep quiet (_she tries again to throw
+herself at his feet_). Another time, when you have regained your
+strength, I shall not be displeased to see you clasp my faltering
+knees.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Now, my father, or never! Soon I shall be no more! I shall be only too
+happy if I still have a few moments to reveal my heart to you. But not
+moments--whole days--another life, would be necessary to tell all that
+a guilty, chastened and repentant daughter can say to an injured but
+generous and loving father. My offence, and your forgiveness----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not reproach yourself for your weakness, nor give me credit for that
+which is only my duty. When you remind me of my pardon, you remind me
+also of my hesitation in granting it. Why did I not forgive you at
+once? Why did I reduce you to the necessity of flying from me. And this
+very day, when I had already forgiven you, what was it that forced me
+to wait first for an answer from you? I could already have enjoyed a
+whole day with you if I had hastened at once to your arms. Some latent
+spleen must still have lain in the innermost recesses of my
+disappointed heart, that I wished first to be assured of the
+continuance of your love before I gave you mine again. Ought a father
+to act so selfishly? Ought we only to love those who love us? Chide me,
+dearest Sara! Chide me! I thought more of my own joy in you than of you
+yourself. And if I were now to lose this joy? But who, then, says that
+I must lose it? You will live; you will still live long. Banish all
+these black thoughts! Mellefont magnifies the danger. He put the whole
+house in an uproar, and hurried away himself to fetch the doctors, whom
+he probably will not find in this miserable place. I saw his passionate
+anxiety, his hopeless sorrow, without being seen by him. Now I know
+that he loves you sincerely; now I do not grudge him you any longer. I
+will wait here for him and lay your hand in his. What I would otherwise
+have done only by compulsion, I now do willingly, since I see how dear
+you are to him. Is it true that it was Marwood herself who caused you
+this terror? I could understand this much from your Betty's
+lamentations, but nothing more. But why do I inquire into the causes of
+your illness, when I ought only to be thinking how to remedy it. I see
+you growing fainter every moment, I see it and stand helplessly here.
+What shall I do, Waitwell? Whither shall I run? What shall I give her?
+My fortune? My life? Speak!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dearest father! all help would be in vain! The dearest help, purchased
+with your life, would be of no avail.
+
+
+                                Scene X.
+
+                Mellefont, Sara, Sir William, Waitwell.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do I dare to set my foot again in this room? Is she still alive?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Step nearer, Mellefont!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Am I to see your face again? No, Sara; I return without consolation,
+without help. Despair alone brings me back. But whom do I see? You,
+Sir? Unhappy father! You have come to a dreadful scene! Why did you not
+come sooner? You are too late to save your daughter! But, be comforted!
+You shall not have come too late to see yourself revenged.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not remember in this moment, Mellefont, that we have ever been at
+enmity! We are so no more, and we shall never be so again. Only keep my
+daughter for me, and you shall keep a wife for yourself.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Make me a god, and then repeat your prayer! I have brought so many
+misfortunes to you already, Sara, that I need not hesitate to announce
+the last one. You must die! And do you know by whose hand you die?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not wish to know it--that I can suspect it is already too much----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You must know it, for who could be assured that you did not suspect
+wrongly? Marwood writes thus: (_he reads_) "When you read this letter,
+Mellefont, your infidelity will already be punished in its cause. I had
+made myself known to her and she had swooned with terror. Betty did her
+utmost to restore her to consciousness. I saw her taking out a
+soothing-powder, and the happy idea occurred to me of exchanging it for
+a poisonous one. I feigned to be moved, and anxious to help her, and
+prepared the draught myself. I saw it given to her, and went away
+triumphant. Revenge and rage have made me a murderess; but I will not
+be like a common murderess who does not venture to boast of her deed. I
+am on my way to Dover; you can pursue me, and let my own handwriting
+bear witness against me. If I reach the harbour unpursued I will leave
+Arabella behind unhurt. Till then I shall look upon her as a hostage,
+Marwood." Now you know all, Sara! Here, Sir, preserve this paper! You
+must bring the murderess to punishment, and for this it is
+indispensable.--How motionless he stands!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Give me this paper, Mellefont! I will convince myself with my own eyes
+(_he hands it to her and she looks at it for a moment_). Shall I still
+have sufficient strength? (_tears it_.)
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What are you doing, Sara!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Marwood will not escape her fate; but neither you nor my father shall
+be her accusers. I die, and forgive the hand through which God chastens
+me. Alas, my father, what gloomy grief has taken hold of you? I love
+you still, Mellefont, and if loving you is a crime, how guilty shall I
+enter yonder world! Would I might hope, dearest father, that you would
+receive a son in place of a daughter! And with him you will have a
+daughter too, if you will acknowledge Arabella as such. You must fetch
+her back, Mellefont; her mother may escape. Since my father loves me,
+why should I not be allowed to deal with this love as with a legacy? I
+bequeath this fatherly love to you and Arabella. Speak now and then to
+her of a friend from whose example she may learn to be on her guard
+against love. A last blessing, my father!--Who would venture to judge
+the ways of the Highest?--Console your master, Waitwell! But you too
+stand there in grief and despair, you who lose in me neither a lover
+nor a daughter?
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+We ought to be giving you courage, and your dying eyes are giving it to
+us. No more, my earthly daughter--half angel already; of what avail can
+the blessing of a mourning father be to a spirit upon whom all the
+blessings of heaven flow? Leave me a ray of the light which raises you
+so far above everything human. Or pray to God, who hears no prayer so
+surely as that of a pious and departing soul--pray to Him that this day
+may be the last of my life also!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+God must let the virtue which has been tested remain long in this world
+as an example; only the weak virtue which would perhaps succumb to too
+many temptations is quickly raised above the dangerous confines of the
+earth. For whom do these tears flow, my father? They fall like fiery
+drops upon my heart; and yet--yet they are less terrible to me than
+mute despair. Conquer it, Mellefont!--My eyes grow dim.--That sigh was
+the last! But where is Betty?--Now I understand the wringing of her
+hands.--Poor girl!--Let no one reproach her with carelessness, it
+is excused by a heart without falsehood, and without suspicion of
+it.--The moment is come! Mellefont--my father--(_dies_).
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+She dies! Ah, let me kiss this cold hand once more (_throwing himself
+at her feet_). No! I will not venture to touch her. The old saying that
+the body of the slain bleeds at the touch of the murderer, frightens
+me. And who is her murderer? Am I not he, more than Marwood? (_rises_)
+She is dead now, Sir; she does not hear us any more. Curse me now. Vent
+your grief in well-deserved curses. May none of them miss their mark,
+and may the most terrible be fulfilled twofold! Why do you remain
+silent? She is dead! She is certainly dead. Now, again, I am nothing
+but Mellefont! I am no more the lover of a tender daughter, whom you
+would have reason to spare in him. What is that? I do not want your
+compassionate looks! This is your daughter! I am her seducer. Bethink
+yourself, Sir! In what way can I rouse your anger? This budding beauty,
+who was yours alone, became my prey! For my sake her innocent virtue
+was abandoned! For my sake she tore herself from the arms of a beloved
+father! For my sake she had to die! You make me impatient with your
+forbearance, Sir! Let me see that you are a father!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+I am a father, Mellefont, and am too much a father not to respect the
+last wish of my daughter. Let me embrace you, my son, for whom I could
+not have paid a higher price!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Not so, Sir! This angel enjoined more than human nature is capable of!
+You cannot be my father. Behold, Sir (_drawing the dagger from his
+bosom_), this is the dagger which Marwood drew upon me to-day. To my
+misfortune, I disarmed her. Had I fallen a guilty victim of her
+jealousy, Sara would still be living. You would have your daughter
+still, and have her without Mellefont. It is not for me to undo what is
+done--but to punish myself for it is still in my power! (_he stabs
+himself and sinks down at_ Sara's _side_.)
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Hold him, Waitwell! What new blow upon my stricken head! Oh, would that
+my own might make the third dying heart here.
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_dying_).
+
+I feel it. I have not struck false. If now you will call me your son
+and press my hand as such, I shall die in peace. (Sir William _embraces
+him_.) You have heard of an Arabella, for whom Sara pleaded; I should
+also plead for her; but she is Marwood's child as well as mine. What
+strange feeling seizes me? Mercy--O Creator, mercy!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+If the prayers of others are now of any avail, Waitwell, let us help
+him to pray for this mercy! He dies! Alas! He was more to pity than to
+blame.
+
+
+                               Scene XI.
+
+                          Norton, The Others.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Doctors, Sir!----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+If they can work miracles, they may come in! Let me no longer remain at
+this deadly spectacle! One grave shall enclose both. Come and make
+immediate preparations, and then let us think of Arabella. Be she who
+she may, she is a legacy of my daughter! (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+                         A TRAGEDY IN ONE ACT.
+
+
+Philotos was written at Berlin in the year 1759. It was never
+represented, and was probably not intended for the stage. It is here
+translated for the first time into English.
+
+
+
+
+                            DRAMATIS PERSONĈ
+
+      Aridäus, _the King_.
+      Strato, _a General of_ Aridäus.
+      Philotas, _a prisoner_.
+      Parmenio, _a soldier_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+
+                                Scene I.
+
+         _The scene is laid in a tent in the camp of_ Aridäus.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Am I really a prisoner? A prisoner? A worthy commencement this of my
+apprenticeship in war. O ye gods! O my father! How gladly would I
+persuade myself that all was but a dream! My earliest years have never
+dreamt of anything but arms and camps, battles and assaults. Could not
+the youth too be dreaming now of loss and defeat? Do not delude thyself
+thus, Philotas!--If I did not see, did not feel the wound through which
+the sword dropped from my palsied hand.--They have dressed it for me
+against my will! O cruel mercy of a cunning foe! "It is not mortal,"
+said the surgeon, and thought to console me. Wretch, it should be
+mortal! And one wound only, only one! Did I know that I should make it
+mortal by tearing it open and dressing it and tearing it open again.--I
+rave, unhappy wretch. And with what a scornful face--I now recall
+it--that aged warrior looked at me--who snatched me from my horse! He
+called me--child! His king, too, must take me for a child, a pampered
+child. To what a tent he has had me brought! Adorned and provided with
+comforts of every sort! It must belong to one of his mistresses! A
+disgusting place for a soldier! And instead of being guarded, I am
+served. O mocking civility!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                           Strato. Philotas.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince--
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Another visitor already? Old man, I like to be alone!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince! I come by order of the king.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I understand you! It is true, I am the king's prisoner, and it rests
+with him how he will have me treated. But listen: if you are the man
+whose features you bear,--if you are an old and honest warrior, have
+pity on me, and beg the king to have me treated as a soldier, not as a
+woman.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+He will be with you directly; I come to announce his approach.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+The king with me? And you come to announce him? I do not wish that he
+should spare me one of the humiliations to which a prisoner must
+submit. Come, lead me to him! After the disgrace of having been
+disarmed, nothing is disgraceful to me now.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince! Your countenance, so full of youthful graces, bespeaks a softer
+heart!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Mock not my countenance! Your visage, full of scars, is assuredly a
+more handsome face.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+By the gods! A grand answer! I must admire and love you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I would not object if only you had feared me first.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+More and more heroic! We have the most terrible of enemies before us,
+if there are many like Philotas amongst his youths.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Do not flatter me! To become terrible to you, they must combine greater
+deeds with my thoughts. May I know your name?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Strato.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Strato? The brave Strato, who defeated my father on the Lycus?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Do not recall that doubtful victory! And how bloodily did your father
+revenge himself in the plain of Methymna! Such a father must needs have
+such a son.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+To you, the worthiest of my father's enemies, I may bewail my fate! You
+only can fully understand me; you too, you too have been consumed in
+your youth by the ambition of the glory--the glory of bleeding for your
+native land. Would you otherwise be what you are? How have I not
+begged, implored, conjured him--my father these seven days--for only
+seven days has the manly toga covered me--conjured him seven times on
+each of these seven days upon my knees to grant me that I should not in
+vain have outgrown my childhood,--to let me go with his warriors who
+had long cost me many a tear of jealousy. Yesterday I prevailed on him,
+the best of fathers, for Aristodem assisted my entreaties. You know
+Aristodem; he is my father's Strato.--"Give me this youth, my king, to
+go with me to-morrow," spoke Aristodem, "I am going to scour the
+mountains, in order to keep open the way to Cäsena." "Would I could
+accompany you!" sighed my father. He still lies sick from his wounds.
+"But be it so!" and with these words he embraced me. Ah, what did his
+happy son feel in that embrace! And the night which followed! I did not
+close my eyes; and yet dreams of glory and victory kept me on my couch
+until the second watch. Then I sprang up, threw on my new armour,
+pushed the uncurled hair beneath the helmet, chose from amongst my
+father's swords the one which matched my strength, mounted my horse and
+had tired out one already before the silver trumpet awakened the chosen
+band. They came, and I spoke with each of my companions, and many a
+brave warrior there pressed me to his scarred breast. Only with my
+father I did not speak; for I feared he might retract his word, if he
+should see me again. Then we marched. By the side of the immortal gods
+one cannot feel happier than did I by the side of Aristodem. At every
+encouraging glance from him I would have attacked a host alone, and
+thrown myself on the certain death of the enemy's swords. In quiet
+determination I rejoiced at every hill, from which I hoped to discern
+the enemy in the plain below, at every bend of the valley behind which
+I flattered myself that we should come upon them. And when at last I
+saw them rushing down upon us from the woody height,--showed them to my
+companions with the point of my sword,--flew up the mountain towards
+them, recall, O renowned warrior, the happiest of your youthful
+ecstasies, you could never have been happier. But now, now behold me,
+Strato; behold me ignominiously fallen from the summit of my lofty
+expectations! O how I shudder to repeat this fall again in thought! I
+had rushed too far in advance; I was wounded, and--imprisoned!
+Poor youth, thou hadst prepared thyself only for wounds, only for
+death,--and thou art made a prisoner! Thus always do the gods, in their
+severity, send only unforeseen evils to stultify our self-complacency.
+I weep--I must weep, although I fear to be despised for it by you. But
+despise me not! You turn away?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+I am vexed: you should not move me thus. I become a child with you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+No; hear why I weep! It is no childish weeping which you deign to
+accompany with your manly tears. What I thought my greatest happiness,
+the tender love with which my father loves me, will now become my
+greatest misery. I fear, I fear he loves me more than he loves his
+empire! What will he not sacrifice, what will not your king exact from
+him, to rescue me from prison! Through me, wretched youth, will he lose
+in one day more than he has gained in three long toilsome years with
+the blood of his noble warriors, with his own blood. With what face
+shall I appear again before him? I, his worst enemy! And my father's
+subjects--mine at some future day, if I had made myself worthy to rule
+them. How will they be able to endure the ransomed prince amongst them
+without contemptuous scorn. And when I die for shame, and creep
+unmourned to the shades below, how gloomy and proud will pass by the
+souls of those heroes who for their king had to purchase with their
+lives those gains, which, as a father, he renounces for an unworthy
+son! Oh, that is more than a feeling heart can endure!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Be comforted, dear prince! It is the fault of youth always to think
+itself more happy or less than it really is. Your fate is not so cruel
+yet;--the king approaches, you will hear more consolation from his
+lips.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    King Aridäus, Philotas, Strato.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+The wars which kings are forced to wage together are no personal
+quarrels. Let me embrace you, prince! Ah what happy days your blooming
+youth recalls to me! Thus bloomed your father's youth! This was his
+open, speaking eye; these his earnest, honest features; this his noble
+bearing! Let me embrace you again; in you I embrace your younger
+father. Have you never heard from him, prince, what good friends we
+were at your age? That was the blessed age, when we could still abandon
+ourselves to our feelings without restraint. But soon we were both
+called to the throne, and the anxious king, the jealous neighbour,
+stifled, alas, the willing friend.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Pardon me, O king, if you find me too cold in my reply to such sweet
+words. My youth has been taught to think, but not to speak. What can it
+now aid me, that you and my father once were friends? Were! so you say
+yourself. The hatred which one grafts on an extinguished friendship
+bears the most deadly fruit of all; or I still know the human heart too
+little. Do not, therefore, O king, do not prolong my despair. You have
+spoken as the polished statesman: speak now as the monarch, who has the
+rival of his greatness completely in: his power.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+O king, do not let him be tormented longer by the uncertainty of his
+fate!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I thank you, Strato! Yes, let me hear at once, I beg you, how
+despicable you will render an unfortunate son in his father's eyes.
+With what disgraceful peace, with how many lands shall he redeem him?
+How small and contemptible shall he become, in order to regain his
+child? O my father!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+This early, manly language too, prince, was your father's! I like to
+hear you speak thus. And would that my son, no less worthy of me, spoke
+thus before your father now.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What mean you by that?
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+The gods--I am convinced of it--watch over our virtue, as they watch
+over our lives. To preserve both as long as possible is their secret
+and eternal work. Where is the mortal who knows how wicked he is at
+heart,--how viciously he would act, if they allowed free scope to each
+treacherous inducement to disgrace himself by little deeds! Yes,
+prince! Perhaps I might be he, whom you think me; perhaps I might not
+have sufficient nobleness of thought to use with modesty the strange
+fortune of war, which delivered you into my hands; perhaps I might have
+tried through you to exact that for which I would no longer venture to
+contend by arms; perhaps--but fear nothing; a higher power has
+forestalled this. Perhaps. I cannot let your father redeem his son more
+dearly than by--mine.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I am astounded! You give me to understand that----
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+That my son is your father's prisoner, as you are mine.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Your son my father's prisoner? Your Polytimet? Since when? How? Where?
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Fate willed it thus! From equal scales it took equal weights at the
+same time, and the scales are balanced still.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+You wish to know more details. Polytimet led the very squadron, towards
+which you rushed too rashly; and when your soldiers saw that you were
+lost, rage and despair gave them superhuman strength. They broke
+through the lines and all assailed the one in whom they saw the
+compensation for their loss. The end you know! Now accept a word of
+advice from an old soldier: The assault is not a race; not he who
+first, but he who most surely meets the enemy, approaches victory. Note
+this, too ardent prince! otherwise the future hero may be stifled in
+his earliest bud.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Strato, you vex the prince with your warning, though it be friendly.
+How gloomily he stands there!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Not so. But do not mind me. In deep adoration of Providence--
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+The best adoration, prince, is grateful joy! Cheer up! We fathers will
+not long withhold our sons from one another. My herald is now ready; he
+shall go and hasten the exchange. But you know that joyful tidings,
+heard from the enemy alone, have the appearance of snares. They might
+suspect that you, perchance, had died from your wound. It will be
+necessary, therefore, for you to send a trustworthy messenger to your
+father with the herald. Come with me! Choose among the prisoners one
+whom you hold worthy of your confidence.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+You wish, then, that I shall detest myself a hundredfold? In each of
+the prisoners I shall behold myself! Spare me this embarrassment!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+But----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Parmenio must be among the prisoners. Send him to me! I will despatch
+him.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Well, be it so! Come, Strato! Prince, we shall see each other soon
+again!
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O God! the lightning could not have struck nearer without destroying me
+entirely. Wondrous gods! The flash returns! The vapour passes off, and
+I was only stunned. My whole misery then was seeing how miserable I
+might have become--how miserable my father through me!--Now I may
+appear again before you, my father! But still with eyes cast down;
+though shame alone will cast them down, and not the burning
+consciousness of having drawn you down with me to destruction. Now I
+need fear nothing from you but a smiling reprimand; no silent grief; no
+curses stifled by the stronger power of paternal love----
+
+But--yes, by Heavens! I am too indulgent towards myself. May I forgive
+myself all the errors which Providence seems to pardon me? Shall I not
+judge myself more severely than Providence and my father judge me? All
+too indulgent judges! All other sad results of my imprisonment the gods
+could annihilate; one only they could not--the disgrace! It is true
+they could wipe out that fleeting shame, which falls from the lips of
+the vulgar crowd: but not the true and lasting disgrace, which the
+inner judge, my impartial self, pronounces over me!
+
+And how easily I delude myself! Does my father then lose nothing
+through me?
+
+The weight which the capture of Polytimet must throw into the scale if
+I were not a prisoner--is that nothing? Only through me does it become
+nothing! Fortune would have declared for him for whom it should
+declare;--the right of my father would triumph, if Polytimet was
+prisoner and not Philotas and Polytimet!
+
+And now--but what was that which I thought just now? Nay, which a god
+thought within me--I must follow it up! Let me chain thee, fleeting
+thought! Now I have it again! How it spreads, farther and farther; and
+now it beams throughout my soul!
+
+What did the king say? Why did he wish that I myself should send a
+trustworthy messenger to my father? In order that my father should not
+suspect--yes, thus ran his own words--that I had already died,
+perchance, from my wounds. He thinks, then, that the affair would take
+a different aspect, if I had died already from my wound. Would it do
+so? A thousand thanks for this intelligence. A thousand thanks! Of
+course it is so. For my father would then have a prince as his
+prisoner, for whom he could make any claim; and the king, his enemy,
+would have the body of a captured prince, for which he could demand
+nothing; which he must have buried or burned, if it should not become
+an object of disgust to him.
+
+Good! I see that! Consequently, if I, I the wretched prisoner, will
+still turn the victory into my father's hands--on what does it depend?
+on death? On nothing more? O truly--the man is mightier than he thinks,
+the man who knows how to die!
+
+But I? I, the germ, the bud of a man, do I know how to die? Not the
+man, the grown man alone, knows how to die; the youth also, the boy
+also; or he knows nothing at all. He who has lived ten years has had
+ten years time to learn to die; and what one does not learn in ten
+years, one neither learns in twenty, in thirty, nor in more. All that
+which I might have been, I must show by what I already am. And what
+could I, what would I be? A hero! Who is a hero? O my excellent, my
+absent father, be now wholly present in my soul! Have you not taught me
+that a hero is a man who knows higher goods than life? A man who has
+devoted his life to the welfare of the state; himself, the single one,
+to the welfare of the many? A hero is a man--a man? Then not a youth,
+my father? Curious question! It is good that my father did not hear it.
+He would have to think that I should be pleased, if he answered "No" to
+it. How old must the pine-tree be which has to serve as a mast? How
+old?--It must be tall enough, and must be strong enough.
+
+Each thing, said the sage who taught me, is perfect if it can fulfil
+its end. I can fulfil my end, I can die for the welfare of the state; I
+am therefore perfect, I am a man. A man! although but a few days ago I
+was still a boy.
+
+What fire rages in my veins? What inspiration falls on me? The breast
+becomes too narrow for the heart! Patience, my heart! Soon will I give
+thee space! Soon will I release thee from thy monotonous and tedious
+task! Soon shalt thou rest, and rest for long!
+
+Who comes? It is Parmenio! Quick! I must decide! What must I say to
+him? What message must I send my father through him?--Right! that I
+must say, that message I must send.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                          Parmenio. Philotas.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Approach, Parmenio! Well? Why so shy--so full of shame? Of whom are you
+ashamed? Of yourself or of me?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Of both of us, prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Speak always as you think! Truly, Parmenio, neither of us can be good
+for much, since we are here. Have you already heard my story?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Alas!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And when you heard it?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I pitied you, I admired you, I cursed you; I do not know myself what I
+did.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Yes, yes! But now that you have also learned, as I suppose, that the
+misfortune is not so great since Polytimet immediately afterwards
+was----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Yes, now; now I could almost laugh! I find that Fate often stretches
+its arm to terrible length to deal a trifling blow. One might think it
+wished to crush us, and it has after all done nothing but killed a fly
+upon our forehead.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+To the point. I am to send you to my father with the king's herald.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Good! Your imprisonment will then plead for mine. Without the good news
+which I shall bring him from you, and which is well worth a friendly
+look, I should have had to promise myself rather a frosty one from him.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+No, honest Parmenio; in earnest now! My father knows that the enemy
+carried you from the battle-field bleeding and half dead. Let him boast
+who will. He whom approaching death has already disarmed is easily
+taken captive. How many wounds have you now, old warrior?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+O, I could cite a long list of them once. But now I have shortened it a
+good deal.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+How so?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Ha! I do not any more count the limbs on which I am wounded; to save
+time and breath I count those which still are whole. Trifles after all!
+For what else has one bones, but that the enemy's iron should notch
+itself upon them?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+That is bold! But now--what will you say to my father?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+What I see: that you are well. For your wound, if I have heard the
+truth----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Is as good as none.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+A sweet little keepsake. Such as an ardent maid nips in our cheek. Is
+it not, prince?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What do I know of that?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Well, well, time brings experience! Further I will tell your father
+what I believe you wish----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And what is that?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+To be with him again as soon as possible. Your childlike longing, your
+anxious impatience----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Why not home-sickness at once! Knave! Wait and I will teach you to
+think differently.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+By Heavens you must not! My dear youthful hero, let me tell you, you
+are still a child! Do not let the rough soldier so soon stifle in you
+the loving child! Or else one might not put the best construction on
+your heart; one might take your valour for inborn ferocity. I also am a
+father, father of an only son, who is but a little older than you, who
+with equal ardour--But you know him!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I know him. He promises everything that his father has accomplished.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+But if I knew that the young rogue did not long for his father at every
+moment when service leaves him free, and did not long for him as the
+lamb longs for its dam, I should wish--you see--that I had not begotten
+him. At present he must love more than respect me. I shall soon enough
+have to content myself with the respect, when nature guides the stream
+of his affection in another channel; when he himself becomes a father.
+Do not grow angry, prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Who can grow angry with you? You are right! Tell my father everything
+which you think a loving son should say to him at such a time. Excuse
+my youthful rashness, which has almost brought him and his empire to
+destruction. Beg him to forgive my fault. Assure him that I shall never
+again remind him of it by a similar fault; that I will do everything
+that he too may be able to forget it. Entreat him----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Leave it to me! Such things we soldiers can say well. And better than a
+learned orator, for we say it more sincerely. Leave it to me! I know
+it all already. Farewell, prince! I hasten----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Stop!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Well? What means this serious air which you suddenly assume?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+The son has done with you, but not yet the prince. The one had to feel;
+the other has to think! How willingly would the son be again with his
+father,--his beloved father--this very moment--sooner than were
+possible; but the prince, the prince cannot.--Listen!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+The prince cannot?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And will not!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Will not?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Listen!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I am surprised!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I say, you shall listen and not be surprised. Listen!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I am surprised, because I listen. It has lightened, and I expect the
+thunderbolt. Speak!--But, young prince, no second rashness!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+But, soldier, no subtilising! Listen! I have my reasons for wishing not
+to be redeemed before to-morrow. Not before to-morrow! Do you hear?
+Therefore tell our king that he shall not heed the haste of our enemy's
+herald! Tell him that a certain doubt, a certain plan compelled
+Philotas to this delay. Have you understood me?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+No!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Not? Traitor!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Softly, prince! A parrot does not understand, but he yet recollects
+what one says to him. Fear not! I will repeat everything to your father
+that I hear from you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Ha! I forbade you to subtilise; and that puts you out of humour. But
+how is it that you are so spoiled? Do all your generals inform you of
+their reasons?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+All, prince!--Except the young ones.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Excellent! Parmenio, if I were so sensitive as you----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+And yet he only to whom experience has given twofold sight can command
+my blind obedience.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Then I shall soon have to ask your pardon. Well, I ask your pardon,
+Parmenio! Do not grumble, old man! Be kind again, old father! You are
+indeed wiser than I am. But not the wisest only have the best ideas.
+Good ideas are gifts of fortune, and good fortune, as you well know,
+often gives to the youth rather than to the old man. For Fortune is
+blind. Blind, Parmenio! Stone blind to all merit. If it were not so,
+would you not have been a general long ago?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+How you know how to flatter, prince! But in confidence, beloved prince,
+do you not wish to bribe me--to bribe me with flatteries?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I flatter? And bribe you? You are the man indeed whom one could bribe!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+If you continue thus, I may become so. Already I no longer thoroughly
+trust myself.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What was it I was saying? One of those good ideas, which fortune often
+throws into the silliest brain, I too have seized--merely seized, not
+the slightest portion of it is my own. For if my reason,--my invention
+had some part in it, should I not wish to consult with you about it?
+But this I cannot do; it vanishes, if I impart it; so tender, so
+delicate is it, that I do not venture to clothe it in words. I conceive
+it only, as the philosopher has taught me to conceive God, and at the
+most I could only tell you what it is not. It is possible enough that
+it is in reality a childish thought; a thought which I consider happy,
+because I have not yet had a happier. But let that be; if it can do no
+good, it can at least do no harm. That I know for certain; it is the
+most harmless idea in the world; as harmless as--as a prayer! Would you
+cease to pray because you are not quite certain whether the prayer
+will be of use to you? Do not then spoil my pleasure, Parmenio,
+honest Parmenio! I beg you, I embrace you. If you love me but a very
+little--will you? Can I rely on you? Will you manage that I am not
+exchanged before to-morrow? Will you?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Will? Must I not? Must I not? Listen, prince; when you shall one day be
+king, do not give commands. To command is an unsure means of being
+obeyed. If you have a heavy duty to impose on anyone, do with him
+as you have just now done with me; and if he then refuses his
+obedience--Impossible! He cannot refuse it to you. I too must know what
+a man can refuse.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What obedience? What has the kindness which you show me to do with
+obedience? Will you, my friend----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Stop! Stop! You have won me quite already. Yes! I will do everything. I
+will, I will tell your father, that he shall not exchange you until
+to-morrow. But why only to-morrow? I do not know! That I need not know.
+That he need not know either. Enough that I know you wish it. And I
+wish everything that you wish. Do you wish nothing else? Is there
+nothing else that I shall do? Shall I run through the fire for you?
+Shall I cast myself from a rock for you? Command only, my dear young
+friend, command! I will do everything now for you. Even say a word and
+I will commit a crime, an act of villainy for you! My blood, it is
+true, curdles; but still, prince, if you wish, I will--I will----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O my best, my fiery friend! O how shall I call you? You creator of my
+future fame! I swear to you by everything that is sacred to me, by my
+father's honour, by the fortune of his arms, by the welfare of his
+land--I swear to you never in my life to forget this your readiness,
+your zeal! Would that I also could reward it sufficiently! Hear, ye
+gods, my oath! And now, Parmenio, swear too! Swear to keep your promise
+faithfully!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I swear? I am too old for swearing.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And I too young to trust you without an oath. Swear to me! I have sworn
+to you by my father, swear you by your son. You love your son? You love
+him from your heart?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+From my heart, as I love you! You wish it, and I swear. I swear to you
+by my only son, by my blood which flows in his veins, by the blood
+which I would willingly have shed for your father's sake, and which he
+will also willingly shed some future day for yours--by this blood I
+swear to you to keep my word. And if I do not keep it, may my son fall
+in his first battle, and never live to see the glorious days of your
+reign! Hear, ye gods, my oath!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Hear him not yet, ye gods! You will make fun of me, old man! To fall in
+the first battle--not to live to see my reign; is that a misfortune? Is
+it a misfortune to die early?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I do not say that. Yet only to see you on the throne, to serve you, I
+should like--what otherwise I should not wish at all--to become young
+again. Your father is good; but you will be better than he.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+No praise that slights my father! Alter your oath! Come, alter it like
+this. If you do not keep your word, let your son become a coward, a
+scoundrel; in the choice between death and disgrace, let him choose the
+latter; let him live ninety years the laughing-stock of women, and even
+die unwillingly in his ninetieth year.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I shudder, but I swear. Let him do so. Hear the most terrible of oaths,
+ye gods!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Hear it! Well, you can go, Parmenio! We have detained each other long
+enough, and almost made too much ado about a trifle. For is it not a
+very trifle to tell my father--to persuade him not to exchange us until
+tomorrow? And if he should wish to know the reason--well, then invent a
+reason on your way!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+That, too, I'll do. Yet I have never, though I am so old, devised a
+lie. But for your sake, prince--Leave it to me. Wickedness may still be
+learned even in old age. Farewell!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Embrace me! Go!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+There are said to be so many rogues in the world, and yet deceiving is
+so hard, even when done with the best intentions. Had I not to turn and
+twist myself! Only see, good Parmenio, that my father does not exchange
+us before to-morrow, and he shall not need to exchange us at all. Now I
+have gained time enough! Time enough to strengthen myself in my
+purpose--time enough to choose the surest means. To strengthen myself
+in my purpose! Woe to me if I need that! Firmness of age, if thou art
+not mine, then obstinacy of youth, stand thou by me!
+
+Yes, it is resolved! It is firmly resolved! I feel that I grow calm--I
+am calm! Thou who standest there, Philotas (_surveying himself_)--Ha!
+It must be a glorious, a grand sight; a youth stretched on the ground,
+the sword in his breast! The sword? Gods! O unhappy wretch that I am.
+And now only do I become aware of it! I have no sword; I have not
+anything! It became the booty of the warrior who made me prisoner.
+Perhaps he would have left it me, but the hilt was of gold. Accursed
+gold! art thou then always the ruin of virtue?
+
+No sword? I no sword? Gods, merciful gods, grant me this one thing!
+Mighty gods, ye who have created heaven and earth, ye could not create
+a sword for me, if ye wished to do so? What is now my grand and
+glorious design? I become a bitter cause of laughter to myself.
+
+And there the king comes back already! Stop! Suppose I played the
+child? This idea is promising. Yes, perhaps I may succeed.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                           Aridäus. Philotas.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+The messengers have now gone, my prince! They have started on their
+swiftest horses, and your father's camp is so near at hand, that we can
+receive a reply in a few hours.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+You are then very impatient, king, to embrace your son once more?
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Will your father be less so to press you to his heart again? But let me
+enjoy your company, dearest prince! The time will speed more quickly in
+it, and perhaps in other respects it may also have good results, if we
+become more intimately acquainted with each other. Often already have
+loving children been the mediators of their angry fathers. Follow me
+therefore to my tent, where the greatest of my generals await you! They
+burn with the desire to see you, and offer you their admiration.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Men must not admire a child, king! Leave me here, therefore, I pray!
+Shame and vexation would make me play a very foolish part. And as to
+your conversation with me, I do not see at all what good could come of
+it. I know nothing else, but that you and my father are involved in
+war; and the right--the right, I think, is on my father's side. This I
+believe, king! and will believe, even though you could prove the
+reverse indisputably. I am a son and a soldier, and have no other
+opinion than that of my father and my general.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Prince! it shows a great intelligence thus to deny one's intelligence.
+Yet I am sorry that I shall not ever be able to justify myself before
+you. Accursed war!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Yes, truly, an accursed war! And woe to him who caused it.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Prince! prince! remember that it was your father who first drew the
+sword. I do not wish to join in your curses. He was rash, he was too
+suspicious.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Well, my father drew the first sword. But does the conflagration only
+take its rise when the bright flame already breaks through the roof?
+Where is the patient, quiet creature, devoid of all feeling, which
+cannot be embittered through incessant irritations? Consider--for
+you compel me to speak of things of which I have no right to
+speak--consider what a proud and scornful answer you sent him when
+he--but you shall not compel me; I will not speak of it! Our guilt and
+our innocence are liable to endless misinterpretations, endless
+excuses. Only to the undeceived eye of the gods do we appear as we are;
+they alone can judge us. But the gods, you know it, king, speak their
+verdict through the sword of the bravest. Let us therefore wait to hear
+their bloody sentence. Why shall we turn in cowardice from this highest
+of judgments to a lower? Are our arms already so weary that the pliant
+tongue must take their place?
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+I hear with astonishment----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Ah! a woman, too, may be listened to with astonishment.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+With astonishment, prince, and not without grief. Fate has destined you
+for the throne! To you it will confide the welfare of a mighty and
+noble nation; to you! What dreadful future reveals itself to me! You
+will overwhelm your people with laurels,--and with misery. You will
+count more victories than happy subjects. Well for me, that my days
+will not reach into yours! But woe to my son, to my honest son! You
+will scarcely allow him to lay aside his armour----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Comfort the father, O king! I shall allow your son far more!--far more!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Far more? Explain yourself.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Have I spoken a riddle? O do not ask, king, that a youth, such as I am,
+shall always speak with caution and design. I only wished to say the
+fruit is often very different from what the blossom promises. An
+effeminate prince, history has taught me, has often proved a warlike
+king. Could not the reverse occur with me? Or perhaps the meaning of
+what I said was that I had still a long and dangerous way to the
+throne. Who knows if the gods will allow me to accomplish it? And do
+not let me accomplish it, father of gods and men, if in the future thou
+seest in me a waster of the most precious gift which thou hast
+entrusted to me,--the blood of my subjects!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Yes, prince; what is a king, if he be not a father? What is a hero void
+of human love? Now I recognise this also in you, and am your friend
+again! But come, come; we must not remain alone here! We are too
+serious for one another. Follow me!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Pardon, king----
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Do not refuse!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Thus, as I am, shall I show myself to many eyes?
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Why not?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I cannot, king, I cannot!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+And the reason?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O, the reason! It would make you laugh.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+So much the better,--let me hear it! I am a human being, and like to
+laugh and cry.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Well, laugh then! See, king, I have no sword, and should not like to
+appear amongst soldiers without this mark of the soldier.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+My laughing turns to joy! I have thought of that beforehand, and your
+wish will be gratified at once. Strato has the order to get your sword
+again for you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Let us then await him here!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+And then you will accompany me?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Then I will follow you immediately.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+As we willed it! There he comes! Well, Strato!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+        Strato (_with a sword in his hand_), Aridäus, Philotas.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+King! I came to the soldier who had taken the prince and demanded the
+prince's sword from him in your name. But hear how nobly the soldier
+refused! "The king," he said, "must not take the sword from me! It is a
+good sword, and I shall use it in his service. I must also keep a
+remembrance of this deed. By the gods, it was none of my least! The
+prince is a young demon. But perhaps you wish only the precious hilt!"
+And on this, before I could prevent it, his strong hand had broken off
+the hilt, and throwing it contemptuously before my feet--"There it is,"
+he continued, "what care I for your gold?"
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+O Strato, make good for me what this man has done!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+I have done so. And here is one of your swords!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Give it me! Will you accept it, prince, instead of yours?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Let me see! Ha! (_aside_.) Be thanked, ye gods! (_eyeing it long and
+earnestly_). A sword!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Have I not chosen well, prince?
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+What do you find in it so worthy of your deep attention?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+That it is a sword!--(_recovering himself_.) And a beautiful sword! I
+shall not lose anything by this exchange. A sword!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+You tremble, prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+With joy! It seems, however, a trifle short for me. But why short? A
+step nearer to the enemy replaces what is wanting in the steel. Beloved
+sword! What a beautiful thing is a sword,--to play with and to use! I
+have never played with anything else.
+
+                         ARIDÄUS (_to_ Strato).
+
+O the wondrous combination of child and hero!
+
+                          PHILOTAS (_aside_).
+
+Beloved sword! Could I but be alone with thee! But, courage!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Now gird on the sword, prince, and follow me!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Directly! Yet one must not know one's friend and one's sword only
+outwardly (_he draws it, and_ Strato _steps between him and the king_).
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+I understand the steel better than the workmanship. Believe me, prince,
+the steel is good. The king has cleft more than one helmet with it
+since his youth.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I shall never grow so strong as that! But--Do not step so near, Strato!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Why not?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+So! (_springing back and swinging the sword through the air_). It has
+the right swing.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Prince, spare your wounded arm! You will excite yourself!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Of what do you remind me, king? Of my misfortune--no, of my shame! I
+was wounded and made prisoner. Yes, but I shall never be so again! By
+this my sword, I shall never be so again! No, my father, no! To-day a
+wonder spares you the shameful ransom of your son; his death may spare
+it you in the future!--His certain death, when he shall see himself
+surrounded again! Surrounded again? Horrible! I am so! I am surrounded!
+What now? Companions! Friends! Brothers! Where are you? All dead?
+Enemies everywhere! Through here, Philotas! Ha! That is for you, rash
+fellow!--And that for you!--And that for you! (_striking around him_.)
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince! what ails you? Calm yourself (_approaches him_.)
+
+                  PHILOTAS (_stepping away from him_).
+
+You too, Strato? You too? O, foe, be generous! Kill me! Do not make me
+captive! No, I do not deliver myself up! Were you all, who surround me,
+Stratos, yet I will defend myself against you all--against a world will
+I defend myself! Do your best, my foes! But you will not? You will not
+kill me, cruel men? You only wish to have me alive? I laugh at you! To
+take me prisoner alive? Me? Sooner shall this sword--this sword--shall
+pierce this breast--sooner--before--(_he stabs himself_.)
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+God! Strato!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+King!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I wished it thus! (_sinking back_.)
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Hold him, Strato! Help! help for the prince! Prince, what raving
+anguish----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Forgive me, king! I have dealt you a more deadly blow than myself! I
+die, and soon will peaceful lands enjoy the fruit of my death. Your
+son, king, is a prisoner, and the son of my father is free!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+What do I hear?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Then it was your purpose, prince? But as our prisoner, you had no right
+over yourself!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Do not say that, Strato! Should a man be able to fetter another's
+liberty to die, the liberty which the gods have left in all
+vicissitudes of life?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+O king! Terror has paralyzed him! King!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Who calls me?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+King!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Be silent!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+The war is over, king!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Over? You lie, Strato! The war is not over, prince! Die! yes, die! But
+carry with you this tormenting thought! You believed, as a true
+ignorant boy, that fathers were all of one and the same mould,--all of
+the soft, effeminate nature of your father. They are not all like him!
+I am not so! What do I care about my son? And do you think that he
+cannot die as well for his father as you did for yours? Let him die!
+Let his death too spare me the disgraceful ransom! Strato, I am bereft
+now, I poor man! You have a son;--he shall be mine. For a son one must
+have! Happy Strato!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Your son too lives still, king! And will live! I hear it!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Does he live still? Then I must have him back. But you--die! I will
+have him back, let what will come of it. And in exchange for you! Or I
+will have such disgrace and dishonour shown to your body--I will have
+it----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+The dead body!--If you will revenge yourself, king, awaken it again!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Ah! What do I say?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I pity you! Farewell, Strato! There, where all virtuous friends and all
+brave men are members of one blessed state--in Elysium we shall meet
+again! We also, king, shall meet again.
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+And reconciled! Prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O then, ye gods, receive my triumphant soul; and thou, goddess of
+peace, thy offering!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Hear me, prince!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+He dies! Am I traitor, king, if I weep over your enemy? I cannot
+restrain myself. A wondrous youth!
+
+                                ARIDÄUS.
+
+Weep over him, weep! And I too! Come! I must have my son again. But do
+not oppose me, if I pay too high a ransom for him! In vain have we shed
+our streams of blood, in vain have we conquered lands. There he departs
+with our booty, the greater victor!--Come! Get me my son! And when I
+have him, I will no more be king. Do ye believe, ye men, that one does
+not grow weary of it? (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+
+
+
+                            EMILIA GALOTTI.
+
+                        A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.
+
+                  (_Translated by B. Dillon Boylan_.)
+
+
+'Emilia Galotti' was commenced in 1757, when Lessing was at Leipzig,
+but was thrown aside for some years, until in 1767, when at Hamburg, he
+again took it up, intending to have it represented on the Hamburg
+stage. But on the failure of the theatrical enterprise with which he
+was connected, he once more abandoned it until 1771, when he again
+turned his attention to it, and completed it in February of the
+following year. It was immediately represented on the Brunswick stage.
+
+
+
+
+
+                           DRAMATIS PERSONĈ.
+
+      Emilia Galotti.
+      Odoardo _and_     \
+                         > _parents of_ Emilia.
+      Claudia Galotti,  /
+      Hettore Gonzaga, _Prince of Guastalla_.
+      Marinelli, _the Prince's Chamberlain_.
+      Camillo Rota, _one of the Prince's Councillors_.
+      Conti, _an artist_.
+      Count Appiani.
+      Angelo, _a bandit_.
+      Pirro _and sundry servants_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                            EMILIA GALOTTI.
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT I.
+
+
+                   Scene I.--_The Prince's Cabinet_.
+
+    _The_ Prince, _seated at a desk, which is covered with papers_.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Complaints; nothing but complaints! Petitions; nothing but petitions!
+Wretched employment! And yet we are envied! To be sure, if we could
+relieve every one, we might indeed be envied. Emilia? (_opening a
+petition, and looking at the signature_.) An Emilia? Yes--but an Emilia
+Bruneschi--not Galotti. Not Emilia Galotti. What does she want, this
+Emilia Bruneschi? (_Reads_) She asks much--too much. But her name is
+Emilia. It is granted (_signs the paper, and rings_).
+
+                           _Enter a_ Servant.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Are any of the Councillors in the antechamber?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+No, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I have begun the day too early. The morning is so beautiful, I will
+take a drive. The Marquis Marinelli shall accompany me. Let him be
+called. (_Exit_ Servant.) I can attend to nothing more. I was so
+happy--delightful thought! so happy--when all at once this wretched
+Bruneschi must be named Emilia. Now all my peace is fled.
+
+               _Re-enter the_ Servant, _bringing a note_.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+The Marquis has been sent for; and here is a letter from the Countess
+Orsina.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The Countess Orsina? Put it down.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+Her courier waits.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I will send an answer if necessary. Where is she, in town, or at her
+villa?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+She arrived in town yesterday.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+So much the worse--the better, I mean. There is less reason for the
+messenger to wait. (_Exit_ Servant.) My dear Countess! (_with sarcasm,
+as he takes up the letter_) as good as read (_throwing it down again_).
+Well, well, I fancied I loved her--one may fancy anything. It may be
+that I really did love her. But--I did.
+
+                          _Re-enter_ Servant.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+The painter Conti requests the honour----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Conti? Good! admit him. That will change the current of my thoughts
+(_rising_).
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                          Conti, _The_ Prince.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Good morning, Conti. How goes it with you? How does art thrive?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Art is starving, Prince.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That must not--shall not be, within the limits of my small dominions.
+But the artist must be willing to work.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Work! that is his happiness. But too much work may rain his claim to
+the title of artist.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I do not mean that his works should be many, but his labour much: a
+little, but well done. But you do not come empty-handed, Conti?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+I have brought the portrait which your Highness ordered; and another
+which you did not order; but as it is worthy of inspection----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That one, is it? And yet I do not well remember----
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+The Countess Orsina.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+True. The commission, however, was given rather long ago.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Our beauties are not every day at the artist's command. In three
+months, the Countess could only make up her mind to sit once.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Where are the pictures?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+In the antechamber. I will fetch them (_exit_).
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Her portrait! Let it come; it is not herself. But perhaps I may see in
+the picture what I can no longer find in her person. But I have no wish
+to make such a discovery. The importunate painter! I almost believe
+that she has bribed him. But even were it so, if another picture which
+is pourtrayed in brighter colours and on a different canvas, could be
+obliterated to make room for her once more in my heart, I really think
+that I should be content. When I loved the Countess, I was ever gay,
+sprightly, and cheerful; now I am the reverse. But no, no, no; happy or
+unhappy, it is better as it is.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+_The_ Prince, Conti, _with the portraits; he places one with the face
+reversed against a chair, and prepares to show the other_.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+I beg your Highness will bear in mind the limits of our art; much of
+the highest perfection of beauty lies altogether beyond its limits.
+Look at it in this position.
+
+                  PRINCE (_after a brief inspection_).
+
+Excellent! Conti, most excellent! It does credit to your taste,--to
+your skill. But flattered, Conti--quite, infinitely flattered!
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+The original did not seem to be of your opinion. But, in truth, she is
+not more flattered than art is bound to flatter. It is the province of
+art to paint as plastic nature--if there is such a thing--intended her
+original design, without the defects which the unmanageable materials
+render inevitable, and free from the ravages which result from a
+conflict with time.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The intelligent artist has therefore double merit. But the original,
+you say, notwithstanding all this----
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Pardon me, Prince! The original is a person who commands my respect. I
+did not intend to insinuate anything to her disadvantage.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+As much as you please. But what said the original?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+"I am satisfied," said the Countess, "if I am not plainer."
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not plainer! The original herself!
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+And she uttered this with an expression of which the portrait affords
+no trace, no idea.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That is just what I meant; therein lies your infinite flattery. Oh! I
+know well her proud, contemptuous look, which would disfigure the face
+of one of the Graces. I do not deny that a handsome mouth set off with
+a slight curl of scorn, sometimes acquires thereby additional beauty.
+But, observe, it must be only slight; the look must not amount to
+grimace, as it does with this Countess. The eyes, too, must keep
+control over the disdainful charmer; eyes which the worthy Countess
+decidedly does not possess. You do not even give them to her in the
+picture.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Your Highness, I am perfectly amazed.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+And wherefore? All that could be achieved by the resources of art out
+of the great prominent staring Medusa eyes of the Countess, you have
+honourably accomplished. Honourably, I say, but less honourably would
+have been more honest; for tell me yourself, Conti, is the character of
+the individual expressed by this picture? yet it should be. You have
+converted pride into dignity, disdain into a smile, and the gloom of
+discontent into soft melancholy.
+
+                       CONTI (_somewhat vexed_).
+
+Ah! Prince, we painters expect that a portrait when finished will find
+the lover as warm as when he ordered it. We paint with eyes of love,
+and the eyes of love alone must judge our works.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+'Tis true, Conti; but why did you not bring it a month sooner? Lay it
+aside. What is the other?
+
+         CONTI (_taking it up and holding it still reversed_).
+
+It is also a female portrait.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Then I had almost rather not see it; for the ideal depicted here
+(_pointing to his forehead_), or rather here (_laying his hand upon his
+heart_), it cannot equal. I should like, Conti, to admire your art in
+other subjects.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+There may be more admirable examples of art, but a more admirable
+subject than this cannot exist.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Then I'll lay a wager, Conti, that it is the portrait of the artist's
+own mistress. (Conti _turns the picture_.) What do I see? Your work,
+Conti, or the work of my fancy? Emilia Galotti!
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+How, Prince! do you know this angel?
+
+     PRINCE (_endeavouring to compose himself, but unable to remove
+                      his eyes from the picture_).
+
+A little; just enough to recognise her. A few weeks ago I met her with
+her mother at an assembly; since then I have only seen her in sacred
+places, where staring is unseemly. I know her father also; he is not my
+friend. He it was who most violently opposed my pretensions to
+Sabionetta. He is a veteran, proud and unpolished, but upright and
+brave.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+You speak of the father, this is the daughter.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+By Heavens! you must have stolen the resemblance from her mirror (_with
+his eyes still rivetted on the picture_). Oh, you well know, Conti,
+that we praise the artist most when we forget his merits in his works.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Yet I am extremely dissatisfied with this portrait, and nevertheless I
+am satisfied with being dissatisfied with myself. Alas! that we cannot
+paint directly with our eyes! On the long journey from the eye through
+the arm to the pencil, how much is lost! But, as I have already said,
+though I know what is lost, and how and why it is lost, I am as proud
+and prouder of this loss than of what I have preserved. For by the
+former I perceive more than by the latter, that I am a good painter,
+though my hand is not always so. Or do you hold, Prince, that Raffaelle
+would not have been the greatest of all artists even had he
+unfortunately been born without hands?
+
+         PRINCE (_turning his eyes a moment from the picture_).
+
+What do you say, Conti? What was your enquiry?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Oh, nothing--nothing; mere idle observations! Your soul, I observe, was
+wholly in your eyes. I like such souls and such eyes.
+
+                     PRINCE (_affecting coldness_).
+
+And so, Conti, you really consider Emilia Galotti amongst the first
+beauties of our city.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Amongst them? Amongst the first? The first of our city? You jest,
+Prince, or your eyesight must have been all this time as insensible as
+your hearing.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Dear Conti (_again fixing his eyes on the picture_), how can we
+uninitiated trust our eyes? In fact, none but an artist can judge of
+beauty.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+And must the feeling of every person wait for the decision of a
+painter? To a cloister with him who would learn from us what is
+beautiful! But this much I must own to you, as a painter, Prince. It is
+one of the greatest delights of my life that Emilia Galotti has sat to
+me. This head, this countenance, this forehead, these eyes, this nose,
+this mouth, this chin, this neck, this bosom, this shape, this whole
+form, are from the present time forward my only model of female beauty.
+The original picture for which she sat, is in the possession of her
+absent father. But this copy----
+
+                   PRINCE (_turning to him quickly_).
+
+Well, Conti--is not surely bespoke already?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Is for you, Prince, if it affords you any pleasure.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Pleasure! (_smiling_.) How can I do better than make your model of
+female beauty my own? There, take back that other portrait, and order a
+frame for it.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Good.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+As rich and splendid as the carver can possibly make it. It shall be
+placed in the gallery. But this must remain here. A study need not be
+treated with so much ceremony; one does not hang it up for display. It
+should always be at hand. I thank you, Conti, cordially. And as I said
+before, the arts shall never starve in my dominions, as long as I have
+bread. Send to my treasurer, Conti, and let him pay your own price for
+both pictures; as much as you please, Conti.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+I must begin to fear, Prince, that you mean to reward me for something
+else besides my art?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Oh the jealousy of an artist! No, no! But remember, Conti, as much as
+you please.                                         (_Exit_ Conti.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                             _The_ Prince.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Yes, as much as he pleases. (_Turning to the picture_.) Thou art mine,
+too cheap at any price. Oh, thou enchanting work of art! Do I then
+possess thee? But who shall possess thyself, thou still more beautiful
+masterpiece of nature? Claim what you will, honest old mother; ask what
+you will, morose old father. Demand any price. Yet, dear enchantress, I
+should be far more happy to buy thee from thyself! This eye! how full
+of love and modesty! This mouth! when it speaks, when it smiles! This
+mouth!--Some one comes.--I am still too jealous of thee. (_Turning the
+picture to the wall_.) It is Marinelli. I wish I had not sent for him!
+What a morning might I have had!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                        Marinelli, _The_ Prince.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your Highness will pardon me; I was not prepared for so early a
+summons.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I felt an inclination to drive out, the morning was so fine. But now it
+is almost over, and my inclination has subsided. (_After a short
+pause_). Any news, Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Nothing of importance that I know. The Countess Orsina arrived in town
+yesterday.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Yes, here lies her morning salutation (_pointing to the letter_), or
+whatever it may be. I am not inquisitive about it. Have you seen her?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Am I not unfortunately her confidant? But if ever I am so again with a
+lady who takes it into her head to love you desperately, Prince, may
+I----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+No rash vows, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed, Prince! Is it possible? The Countess, then, is not so utterly
+mistaken.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Quite mistaken, certainly. My approaching union with the Princess of
+Massa compels me in the first place to break off all such connections.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If that were all, the Countess would doubtless know as well how to
+submit to her fate, as the Prince to his.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+My fate is harder far than hers. My heart is sacrificed to a miserable
+political consideration. She has but to take back hers, and need not
+bestow it against her inclination.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Take it back! "Why take it back," asks the Countess, "for a wife, whom
+policy and not love attaches to the Prince?" With a wife of that kind
+the mistress may still hold her place. It is not, therefore, for a wife
+that she dreads being sacrificed, but----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Perhaps another mistress. What then? would you make a crime of that,
+Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I, Prince? Oh, confound me not with the foolish woman whose cause I
+advocate--from pity! For yesterday I own she greatly moved me. She
+wished not to mention her attachment to you, and strove to appear cold
+and tranquil. But in the midst of the most indifferent topics, some
+expression, some allusion, escaped her, which betrayed her tortured
+heart. With the most cheerful demeanour she said the most melancholy
+things, and on the other hand uttered the most laughable jests with an
+air of deep distress. She has taken to books for refuge, which I fear
+will be her ruin.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Yes, for books gave the first blow to her poor understanding. And,
+Marinelli, you will scarcely employ for the purpose of renewing my
+attachment, that which was the chief cause of our separation. If love
+renders her foolish, she would sooner or later have become so, even
+without such influence. But enough of her! To something else. Is there
+nothing new in town?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Next to nothing; for that Count Appiani will be married to-day is
+little better than nothing.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Count Appiani! To whom? I have not heard that he is engaged.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The affair has been kept a profound secret. And indeed, there was not
+much to create a sensation. You will smile, Prince; but it ever happens
+so with sentimental youths! Love always plays the worst of tricks. A
+girl without fortune or rank has managed to catch him in her snares,
+without any trouble, but with a little display of virtue, sensibility,
+wit, and so forth.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The man who can wholly resign himself to the impressions which
+innocence and beauty make upon him is, in my opinion, rather to be
+envied than derided. And what is the name of the happy fair one? For
+though I well know, Marinelli, that you and Appiani dislike each other,
+he is nevertheless a very worthy young man, a handsome man, a rich man,
+and an honourable man. I should like to be able to attach him to
+myself.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If it be not too late; for, as far as I can learn, it is not his
+intention to seek his fortune at court. He will retire with his spouse
+to his native valleys of Piedmont, and indulge himself in hunting
+chamois or training marmots upon the Alps. What can he do better? Here
+his prospects are blighted by the connection he has formed. The first
+circles are closed against him.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The first circles! What are they worth, mere resorts of ceremony,
+restraint, ennui, and poverty? But how call you the fair being who is
+the cause of all these wondrous sacrifices?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A certain--Emilia Galotti?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What! Marinelli! a certain----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Emilia Calotti.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Emilia Galotti? Never!----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Assuredly, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But no, I say. It is not, and it cannot be! You mistake the name. The
+family of Galotti is numerous. It may be a Galotti, but not Emilia
+Galotti!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Emilia--Emilia Galotti.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+There must be another who bears the same names. You said, however, a
+certain Emilia Galotti,--a certain one. Of the real Emilia, none but a
+fool could so speak.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your Highness is excited. Do you know this Emilia?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+It is my place to question, not yours, Marinelli. Is she the daughter
+of Colonel Galotti, who resides at Sabionetta?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Who lives here in Guastalla with her mother.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Near the church of All-Saints.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+In a word (_turning hastily to the portrait, and giving it to_
+Marinelli)--there! is it this Emilia Galotti? Pronounce again those
+damning words, "the same," and plunge a dagger in my heart.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Traitor! This? this Emilia Galotti--will to-day be----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Countess Appiani. (_The_ Prince _seizes the portrait from the hands
+of_ Marinelli, _and flings it aside_.)--The marriage will be celebrated
+privately at her father's villa, in Sabionetta. About noon the mother
+and daughter, the Count, and perhaps a few friends, will leave town
+together.
+
+  PRINCE (_throwing himself in a state of desperation into a chair_).
+
+Then I am lost, and care no more for life.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What thus affects your Highness?
+
+                 PRINCE (_starting towards him again_).
+
+Traitor! what affects me thus? Yes, in truth, I love her! I adore her!
+You may, perhaps, know it, may even long have known it; all of you who
+desire that I should wear for ever the ignominious fetters of the
+proud Orsina. That you, Marinelli, who have so often assured me
+of your sincere friendship--but a Prince has no friend, can have no
+friend--that you should act so treacherously, so deceitfully, as to
+conceal till this moment the peril which threatened my love.--Oh, if
+ever I forgive you this, let no sin of mine be pardoned!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I could scarcely find words, Prince, to express my astonishment--even
+if you gave me the opportunity. You love Emilia Galotti? Hear, then, my
+oath in reply to yours. If I have ever known or suspected this
+attachment in the slightest degree, may the angels and saints abandon
+me! I repeat the same imprecation for Orsina. Her suspicions were
+directed to a wholly different quarter.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Pardon me, then, Marinelli (_throwing himself into his arms_), and pity
+me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well, yes, Prince. There see the consequence of your reserve. "A prince
+has no friends." And why? Because he will have none. To-day you honour
+us with your confidence, entrust to us your most secret wishes, open
+your whole soul to us--and to-morrow we are as perfect strangers to
+you, as if you had never exchanged a word with us.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Alas, Marinelli, how could I entrust a secret to you which I would
+scarcely confess to myself?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And, which you have, therefore, of course, not confessed to the author
+of your uneasiness?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+To her!--All my endeavours have been fruitless to speak with her a
+second time.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And the first time----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I spoke to her;--Oh, my brain is turned, and must I continue this
+conversation longer? You behold me at the mercy of the waves, and why
+inquire how all this has happened? Save me if you can, and then
+question me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Save you! Is there much to save? What your Highness has not confessed
+to Emilia Galotti, you will confess to the Countess Appiani. Goods
+which cannot be obtained in their primitive perfection, must be bought
+at second hand, and are often, on that account, bought at a cheaper
+rate.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Be serious, Marinelli, or----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To be sure, such articles are generally so much the worse----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+For shame, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And the Count intends to leave this country too. Well, we must devise
+some scheme----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+And what scheme? My best and dearest Marinelli, contrive something for
+me. What would you do, were you in my situation?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Above all things, I should regard a trifle as a trifle--and say to
+myself that I would not be what I am for nothing--your Highness!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Delude me not with a power of which I can, on this occasion, make no
+use. To-day, said you?--This very day?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To-day it is to take place;--but it is only things which have taken
+place that cannot be recalled. (_After a short pause_.) Prince, will
+you let me act as I please? Will you approve all I do?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Anything, Marinelli, which can avert this blow.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Then let us lose no time. You must not remain in town, but go to your
+palace at Dosalo. The road to Sabionetta passes it. Should I not
+succeed in removing the Count, I think--yes, yes, he will be caught in
+that snare without doubt. You wish to send an ambassador to Massa
+respecting your marriage. Let the Count be ambassador, and order him to
+depart this very day.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Excellent!--Bring him to my palace.--Haste, haste!--I will leave town
+instantly.                                 (_Exit_ Marinelli.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Instantly, instantly. Where is it? (_Turns to the portrait_) On the
+ground! That was too bad. (_Takes it up_) But look! And yet I will look
+at thee no more now. Why should I plunge the arrow deeper into the
+wound? (_Lays it on the table_). I have suffered and sighed long
+enough--longer than I ought, but done nothing, and my listless
+inactivity had nearly ruined all.--And may not all yet be lost? May not
+Marinelli fail? Why should I rely on him alone?--It occurs to me that
+at this hour (_looks at his watch_) at this very hour, the pious girl
+daily attends mass at the church of the Dominicans. How, if I attempted
+to address her there? But to-day--the day of her marriage--her heart
+will be occupied with other things than mass. Yet, who knows?--'tis but
+a step--(_rings, and whilst he hastily arranges the papers on the
+table_)--
+
+                            _Enter_ Servant.
+
+My carriage!--Have none of the council arrived?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+Camillo Rota waits without.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Admit him. (_Exit_ Servant). But he must not attempt to detain
+me long. Not now--another time, I will attend to his scrupulous
+investigations----There was a petition of one Emilia Bruneschi--here it
+is--but, good Bruneschi, if your intercessor----
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                         _Enter_ Camillo Rota.
+
+Come, Rota, come. There lie the papers which I have opened this
+morning--not very consoling--you will see what is to be done. Take them
+with you.
+
+                                CAMILLO.
+
+I will attend to them.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Here is a petition from one Emilia Galot--I mean Bruneschi. I have
+already signed my consent to it--but yet the request is no trifle. You
+may defer the execution of it--or not--as you please.
+
+                                CAMILLO.
+
+Not as I please, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What more is there--anything to sign?
+
+                                CAMILLO.
+
+Sentence of death for your Highness's signature.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+With all my heart!--Where is it? Quick!
+
+              CAMILLO (_starts and gazes at the_ Prince).
+
+I said a death--warrant.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I understood you plain enough. It might have been done by this. I am in
+haste.
+
+                   CAMILLO (_looking at his papers_).
+
+I really believe I have not brought it. I beg your Highness's
+forgiveness. It can be deferred till to-morrow.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Be it so. Just collect these papers together. I must away. The rest
+to-morrow, Rota.
+
+        CAMILLO (_shaking his head, as he collects the papers_).
+
+"With all my heart!"--A death-warrant, with all my heart! I would not
+have let him sign at such a moment, had the criminal murdered my own
+son.--"With all my heart!" "With all my heart"--The cruel words pierce
+my very soul.                                       (_Exit_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT II.
+
+
+                Scene I.--_A room in_ Galotti's _house_.
+
+                        Claudia Galotti, Pirro.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Who dismounted just now in the court-yard? Pirro.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+My master, madam.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+My husband? Is it possible?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Here he comes.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+So unexpectedly? (_hastens towards him_). My dearest lord!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                      Odoardo, _and the foregoing_.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Good morning, my love. Does not my arrival surprise you?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Most agreeably. But is it intended as no more than a surprise?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+No more. Be not alarmed. The happiness of to-day awakened me early. The
+morning was so fine, and the ride so short, I fancied you would be so
+busy here to-day, and thought you might perhaps forget something: in a
+word, I am come to see you, and shall return immediately. Where is
+Emilia? Occupied with her dress, I have no doubt?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+With her soul. She is gone to hear mass. "I have need," she said,
+"to-day more than at any other time to implore a blessing from above;"
+then leaving all else she took her veil, and disappeared.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Alone!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+It is but a few steps----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+One incautious step often leads to mischief.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Be not angry; but come in and rest a moment, and, if you please, take
+some refreshment.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well, well, as you like. But she ought not to have gone alone.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Stay here, Pirro, in the antechamber, and excuse me to all visitors.
+(_Exeunt_ Odoardo _and_ Claudia.)
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    Pirro, _and afterwards_ Angelo.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+All inquisitive visitors. How I have been questioned! Who comes here?
+(_Enter_ Angelo, _in a short mantle, with which he conceals his face_.)
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Pirro! Pirro!
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+An acquaintance, it seems. (Angelo _throws back the mantle_). Heavens!
+Angelo. You!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Yes, Angelo, as you perceive. I have been wandering long enough round
+the house, in order to speak to you. One word with you----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+And dare you again appear in public? Don't you know that, in
+consequence of your last murder, you are declared an outlaw, a price
+has been put upon your head?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+You don't intend to claim it, I presume?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+What do you want? I implore you not to involve me in misfortune.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+In this way, you mean? (_Showing a purse_). Take it; it belongs to you.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+To me?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Have you forgotten? The German gentleman, your last master----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Hush!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+----Whom you led into our clutches on the road to Pisa----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+If any one should overhear us!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+----Had the kindness, you know, to bequeath us a valuable ring. Do you
+not remember? It was so valuable that we could not immediately convert
+it into money without suspicion. At length, however, I succeeded. I
+received a hundred pistoles for it, and this is your share. Take it.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+No, no! You may keep it.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Well, with all my heart! If you don't care at what price you put your
+head in the market.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Give it me, then (_takes it_). And now, what do you want? for I suppose
+you did not come in search of me merely for that purpose.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+It seems to you not very credible. Rascal! what do you think of us?
+That we are capable of withholding any man's earnings? That may be the
+way with honest people; but we don't follow their fashions. Farewell!
+(_Affects to be going, but turns at the door_). One question I must
+ask. Old Galotti has just come hurriedly into town quite alone. What
+does he want?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Nothing, merely a ride. His daughter is to be married this evening, at
+his country house, whence he has come to Count Appiani. He awaits the
+moment with impatience.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Then he will return soon?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+So soon, that if you remain any longer he will discover you. But you
+surely have no thoughts of attacking him. Take care. He is a man----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Don't I know him? Have I not served under him in the army; but
+nevertheless if one could only get much from him! At what time do the
+young people follow him?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Towards noon.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+With many attendants?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+A single carriage will contain the party--the mother, the daughter, and
+the count. A few friends from Sabionetta attend as witnesses.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+And the servants?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Only two besides myself. I shall ride before.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Good. Another question. Is the carriage Galotti's or the Count's?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+The Count's.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+That is unlucky. There is another outrider, besides a courageous
+driver. However----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+I am amazed. What do you intend? The few ornaments which the bride has
+will scarcely reward your trouble.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Then the bride herself shall be the reward.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+And you mean that I should be your accomplice in this crime?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+You ride before! Then ride, ride, and take no trouble about the matter.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Never!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+What?--I believe the fellow means to play the conscientious--you
+rascal! I think you know me. If you utter a syllable--if every
+circumstance be not as you have described it----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+But, Angelo, for Heaven's sake----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Do what you cannot avoid. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Ha! let the devil hold thee by a single hair, and thou art his for
+ever! Wretch that I am!
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                 Odoardo _and_ Claudia Galotti, Pirro.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She stays too long.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+One moment more, Odoardo. It would distress her to miss seeing you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I must wait upon the Count, too. How eager am I to call this worthy man
+my son! His conduct enchants me, and, above everything, his resolution
+to pass his days in his native valleys.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+My heart almost breaks when I think of it. Must we so entirely lose our
+dear and only child!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Can you think you have lost her, when you know she is in the arms of an
+affectionate husband? Does not her happiness make your delight? You
+almost make me again suspect that your motive for remaining with her in
+town, far from an affectionate husband and father, was the bustle and
+the dissipation of the world, and proximity of the court, rather than
+the necessity of giving our daughter a proper education.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+How unjust, Odoardo! But to-day, I may be allowed to speak somewhat in
+favour of town and court, though both are so hateful to your strict
+virtue; for here alone could love have united a couple formed for each
+other; here alone could the Count have found our Emilia, and he has
+found her.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+That I allow. But were you right, good Claudia, because the result has
+been fortunate? It is well that this court education has ended so
+happily. Let us not affect to be wise, when we have only been
+fortunate. It is well that it has ended so happily. They who were
+destined for each other have found each other. Now let them go where
+peace and innocence invite them. Why should the Count remain here? To
+cringe--to fawn--to flatter--to supplant the Marinellis--to make a
+fortune which he does not want--to obtain a dignity, which he does not
+value?--Pirro!
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Sir!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Lead my horse to the Count's door. I'll follow you anon, and mount it
+there. (_Exit_ Pirro).--Why should the Count serve here, when he may
+command elsewhere? Besides, you do not consider, Claudia, that, by his
+union with my daughter, he is utterly ruined with the Prince? The
+Prince hates me----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Less, perhaps, than you fear.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Fear! Should I fear anything so contemptible?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Why, have I not already told you that the Prince has seen our daughter?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+The Prince! Where?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+At the last assembly of the Chancellor Grimaldi, which he honoured with
+his presence. He conducted himself so graciously towards her----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Graciously?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Yes. He conversed with her for some time.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Conversed with her?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Appeared to be so delighted with her cheerfulness and good sense----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Delighted?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Spoke of her elegance and beauty, in terms of such admiration----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Admiration? And all this you relate to me in a tone of rapture. Oh,
+Claudia! vain, foolish mother!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Why so?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well, well. This, too, has ended happily.--Ha! when I think----That
+were exactly the point where a wound would be to me most deadly.--A
+libertine, who admires, and seduces----Claudia! Claudia! The very
+thought rouses my fury. You ought to have mentioned this to me
+immediately.--But to-day I would not willingly say anything to vex you.
+And I should (_as she takes him by the hand_), were I to stay longer.
+Therefore, let me begone. God be with you, Claudia; follow me in
+safety. (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                           Claudia, Galotti.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+What a man! What rigid virtue--if virtue that should be called, to
+which everything seems suspicious and culpable. If this be a knowledge
+of mankind, who would not wish to remain in ignorance? Why does Emilia
+stay so long?----He dislikes the father--consequently, if he admire the
+daughter, he must mean to bring disgrace upon him!
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                     Emilia _and_ Claudia Galotti.
+
+                  EMILIA (_rushing in, much alarmed_.)
+
+Heaven be praised! I am now in safety. Or has he even followed me
+hither? (_Throwing back her veil and espying her mother_). Has he, my
+mother, has he?--No, thank Heaven.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+What has happened to you, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Nothing--nothing.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+And yet you look wildly round, and tremble in every limb!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+What have I had to hear?--And where have I been forced to hear it?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+I thought you were at church.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I was. But what are churches and altars to the vicious?--Oh, my mother!
+(_Throws herself into_ Claudia's _arms_.)
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Speak, my daughter, and remove my fears. What evil can have happened to
+you in so holy a place?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Never should my devotion have been more fervent and sincere than on
+this day. Never was it less what it ought to have been.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Emilia we are all human. The faculty of praying fervently is not always
+in our power; but, in the eye of Heaven, the wish to pray is accepted
+as prayer.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And our wish to sin as sin.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+That my Emilia never wished.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+No, my mother. The grace of Heaven has preserved me from falling so
+low. But, alas! that the vice of others should render us accomplices in
+vice against our will!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Compose yourself.--Collect your thoughts as well as you can. Tell me at
+once what has happened to you.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I had just sunk upon my knees, further from the altar than usual--for I
+arrived too late. I had just begun to raise my thoughts towards
+Heaven--when some person placed himself behind me--so close behind me!
+I could neither move forwards nor aside, however much I desired it, in
+my fear lest the devotion of my neighbour might interrupt my prayers.
+Devotion was the worst thing which I suspected. But it was not long
+before I heard a deep sigh close to my ear, and not the name of a
+saint;--no--the name--do not be angry, dear mother--the name of your
+daughter.--My own name! Oh, that a peal of thunder had at that
+moment made me deaf to the rest. The voice spoke of beauty and of
+love--complained that this day, which crowned my happiness (if such
+should prove the case) sealed his misery for ever. He conjured me--all
+this I was obliged to hear, but I did not look round. I wished to seem
+as if I was not listening. What more could I do? Nothing but pray that
+my guardian angel would strike me with deafness--even with eternal
+deafness. This was my prayer--the only prayer which I could utter. At
+length it was time to rise; the service came to an end. I trembled at
+the idea of being obliged to turn round--trembled at the idea of
+beholding him whose impiety had so much shocked me--and when I
+turned--when I beheld him----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Whom, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Guess, dear mother, guess: I thought I should have sunk into the earth.
+Himself!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Whom do you mean?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+The Prince!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+The Prince! Blest be your father's impatience! He was here just now,
+and would not stay till you returned.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+My father here--and not stay till I returned!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+If, in the midst of your confusion, you had told him too.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Well, dear mother--could he have found anything in my conduct deserving
+of censure?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+No--as little as in mine. And yet, yet--you do not know your father.
+When enraged, he would have mistaken the innocent for the guilty--in
+his anger he would have fancied me the cause of what I could neither
+prevent nor foresee. But proceed, my daughter, proceed. When you
+recognised the Prince, I trust that you were sufficiently composed to
+convince him by your looks, of the contempt which he deserved.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That I was not. After the glance by which I recognised him, I had not
+courage to cast a second. I fled.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+And the Prince followed you?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I did not know it till I had reached the porch, where I felt my hand
+seized--by him. Shame compelled me to stop; as an effort to extricate
+myself would have attracted the attention of every one who was passing.
+This was the only reflection of which I was capable, or which I at
+present remember. He spoke, and I replied--but what he said, or what I
+replied, I know not.--Should I recollect it, my dear mother, you shall
+hear it. At present I remember nothing further. My senses had forsaken
+me.--In vain do I endeavour to recollect how I got away from him, and
+escaped from the porch. I found myself in the street--I heard his steps
+behind me--I heard him follow me into the house, and pursue me up the
+stairs----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Fear has its peculiar faculty, my daughter. Never shall I forget the
+look with which you rushed into this room!--No. He dared not follow you
+so far.--Heavens! had your father known this!--How angry was he when I
+merely told him that the Prince had lately beheld you with admiration!
+Be at ease, however, my dear girl. Fancy what has happened to be a mere
+dream. The result will be less, even, than a dream. You will be assured
+to-day from all similar designs.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+No, mother! The Count must know it--to him I must relate it.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Not for the world. Wherefore? Why? Do you wish to make him uneasy
+without a cause? And granting that he may not become so at
+present--know, my child, the poison which does not operate immediately,
+is not on that account less dangerous. That which has no effect upon
+the lover, may produce a serious one upon the husband. The lover might
+even be flattered at winning the prize from so great a rival; but when
+he has won it--alas, my dear Emilia, the lover often becomes quite
+another being. Heaven preserve you from such experience!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+You know, dear mother, how willingly I ever submit to your superior
+judgment. But should he learn from another that the Prince spoke
+to me to-day, would not my silence sooner or later increase his
+uneasiness?--I think it would be better not to conceal anything from
+him.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Weakness--a fond weakness. No, on no account, my daughter! Tell him
+nothing. Let him observe nothing.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I submit. I have no will, dear mother, opposed to yours. Ah! (_sighing
+deeply_), I shall soon be well again. What a silly, timid thing I am!
+am I not, mother? I might have conducted myself otherwise, and should,
+perhaps, have compromised myself just a little.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+I would not say this, my daughter, till your own good sense had spoken,
+which I was sure would be as soon as your alarm was at an end. The
+Prince is a gallant. You are too little used to the unmeaning language
+of gallantry. In your mind a civility becomes an emotion--a compliment,
+a declaration--an idea, a wish--a wish, a design. A mere nothing, in
+this language, sounds like everything, while everything is in reality
+nothing.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Dear mother, my terror cannot but appear ridiculous to myself now. But
+my kind Appiani shall know nothing of it. He might, perhaps, think me
+more vain than virtuous----Ah! there he comes himself. That is his
+step.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+_Enter_ Appiani, _in deep meditation. His eyes are cast down, and he
+approaches without observing_ Claudia _and_ Emilia, _till the latter
+runs towards him_.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Ha! My dearest! I did not expect to find you in the ante-room.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I wish you to be cheerful, even where you do not expect to see me. Why
+so grave and solemn? Should not this day inspire joyful emotions?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+It is of greater value to me than my whole life; but it teems with so
+much bliss for me--perhaps it is this very bliss which makes me so
+grave--so solemn, as you express it (_espies_ Claudia). Ha! You too
+here, dear madam. This day I hope to address you by a more familiar
+name.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Which will be my greatest pride.--How happy you are, Emilia! Why would
+not your father share our delight?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+But a few minutes have elapsed since I tore myself from his arms--or
+rather he from mine.--What a man your father is, my Emilia! A pattern
+of every manly virtue! With what sentiments does his presence inspire
+my soul! Never is my resolution to continue just and good, so firm as
+when I see or think of him. And by what, but by fulfilling this
+resolution, can I make myself worthy of the honour to be called his
+son--to become your husband, dear Emilia?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And he would not wait for me!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Because, in my opinion, this brief interview with his Emilia would have
+distressed him too much, too deeply affected his soul.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+He expected to find you busy with your bridal ornaments, and heard----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What I have learnt from him with the tenderest admiration. Right, my
+Emilia. I shall be blessed with a pious wife--and one who is not proud
+of her piety.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+But let us not, whilst we attend to one subject, forget another. It is
+high time, Emilia. Go!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Go! Why?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Surely, my lord, you would not lead her to the altar in her present
+attire.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+In truth, I was not, till you spoke, aware of that. Who can behold
+Emilia, and take heed of her dress? Yet why should I not lead her to
+the altar thus?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+No, dear Count, not exactly thus; yet in a dress not much more gay. In
+a moment I shall be ready. I do not mean to wear those costly jewels,
+which were the last present of your prodigal generosity, no, nor
+anything suited to such jewels. Oh, I could quarrel with those jewels
+were they not your present--for thrice I've dreamt----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Indeed! I know nothing of that.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That while I wore them, every diamond changed suddenly to a pearl--and
+pearls, you know, dear mother, signify tears.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Child, the interpretation is more visionary than the dream. Were you
+not always more fond of pearls than diamonds?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I assuredly, dear mother--assuredly----
+
+                 APPIANI (_thoughtful and melancholy_).
+
+Signify tears!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+How! Does that affect you? You?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+It does, though I ought to be ashamed that such is the case; yet when
+the fancy is once disposed to sad impressions----
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+But why should yours be so? Guess the subject of my thoughts. What did
+I wear, and how did I look when I first attracted your attention? Do
+you remember?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Remember! I never see you in idea but in that dress, and I see you so,
+even when you are not thus attired.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I mean to wear one of the same colour and form--flowing and loose.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Excellent!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And my hair----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+In its own dark beauty, in curls formed by the hand of nature.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Not forgetting the rose. Right! Have a little patience, and you shall
+see me thus.                                  (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                    Count Appiani, Claudia Galotti.
+
+           APPIANI (_looks after her with a downcast mien_).
+
+"Pearls signify tears!"--a little patience! Yes! if we could but defy
+time! If a minute on the clock were not sometimes an age within us!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Emilia's remark was no less just than quick, Count. You are to-day more
+grave than usual. And yet you are but a step from the object of your
+wishes. Do you repent that you have attained the wished-for goal?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+How could you, dear mother, suspect this of your son? But it is true. I
+am to-day unusually dejected and gloomy. All that I have seen, heard or
+dreamt, has preached since yesterday, and before yesterday this
+doctrine to me--to be but one step from the goal, and not to have
+attained it, is in reality the same. This one idea engrosses all my
+thoughts. What can it mean? I understand it not.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+You make me uneasy, Count.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+One thought succeeds another. I am vexed--angry with my friends and
+with myself.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Why so?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+My friends absolutely require, that, before I solemnize my marriage, I
+should acquaint the Prince with my intentions. They allow I am not
+bound to do this, but maintain that respect towards him demands it; and
+I have been weak enough to consent. I have already ordered my carriage
+for the purpose.
+
+                          CLAUDIA (_starts_).
+
+To wait upon the Prince!
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+         Pirro, _afterwards_ Marinelli, Count Appiani, Claudia.
+
+                             _Enter_ Pirro.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+My lady, the Marquis Marinelli is at the door, and inquires for the
+Count.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+For me!
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Here his lordship comes. (_Opens the door and exit_.)
+
+                           _Enter_ Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I ask pardon, madam. My lord Count, I called at your house, and was
+informed that I should find you here. I have important business with
+you. Once more pardon, madam. It will occupy but a few minutes.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+I will not impede it.                  (_Curtseys and exit_.)
+
+
+                                Scene X.
+
+                          Marinelli, Appiani.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Now, my lord?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I come from his Highness.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What are his commands?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am proud to be the bearer of this distinguished favour; and if Count
+Appiani will not wilfully misunderstand one of his most devoted
+friends----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Proceed, I pray, without more ceremony.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I will. The Prince is obliged to send an ambassador immediately to the
+Duke of Massa respecting his marriage with the Princess his daughter.
+He was long undetermined whom to appoint, till his choice at last has
+fallen upon you, my lord.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Upon me?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes--and if friendship may be allowed to boast, I was instrumental----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Truly I am at a loss for thanks. I had long renounced the hope of being
+noticed by the Prince.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am sure he only waited for a proper opportunity, and if the present
+mission be not sufficiently worthy of Count Appiani, I own my
+friendship has been too precipitate.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Friendship, friendship! every third word. With whom am I speaking? The
+Marquis Marinelli's friendship I never dreamt of gaining.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I acknowledge my fault, Count Appiani, my unpardonable fault in wishing
+to be your friend without your permission. But what of that? The favour
+of his Highness, and the dignity he offers, remain the same. I do not
+doubt you will accept them with pleasure.
+
+                 APPIANI (_after some consideration_).
+
+Undoubtedly.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Come, then, with me.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Whither?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To the Prince's palace at Dosalo. All is ready. You must depart to-day.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What say you? To-day?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes. Rather now than an hour hence. The business presses.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Indeed! Then I am sorry I must decline the honour which the Prince
+intended to confer upon me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+I cannot depart to-day,--nor to-morrow--nor the next day.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You are jesting, Count.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+With you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Incomparable! If with the Prince, the joke is so much the merrier.--You
+cannot?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+No, my lord, no--and I trust that the Prince himself will think my
+excuse sufficient.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am eager to hear it.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Oh, it is a mere trifle. I mean to be married to-day.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed!--and what then?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+And what then?--Your question shows a cursed simplicity!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+There are examples, Count, of marriages having been deferred. I do not
+mean to infer that the delay was pleasant to the bride and bridegroom.
+To them it was, no doubt, a trial, yet the sovereign's command----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Sovereign's command? A sovereign of my own option, I am not so strictly
+bound to obey. I admit that you owe the Prince absolute obedience, but
+not I. I came to his court a volunteer. I wished to enjoy the honour of
+serving him, but not of being his slave. I am the vassal of a greater
+sovereign.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Greater or smaller, a monarch is a monarch.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Idle controversy! Enough! Tell the Prince what you have heard. Tell him
+I am sorry I cannot accept the honour, as I to-day intend to solemnize
+an union which will consummate my happiness.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Will you not at the same time inform him with whom?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+With Emilia Galotti.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The daughter of this family?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Yes.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Humph!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What do you mean?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I mean that there would be the less difficulty in deferring the
+ceremony till your return.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+The ceremony?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes. The worthy parents will not think much about it.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+The worthy parents?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And Emilia will remain faithful to you, of course.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+_Of course_?----You are an impertinent ape, with your "of course."
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+This to me, Count?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Why not?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Heaven and hell! You shall hear from me.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Pshaw! The ape is malicious, but----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Death and damnation!--Count, I demand satisfaction.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+You shall have it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+----And would insist upon it instantly--but that I should not like to
+spoil the day for the loving bridegroom.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Good--natured creature!--(_seizes his arm_). I own an embassy to Massa
+does not suit me, but still I have time enough to take a walk with you.
+Come.
+
+       MARINELLI (_extricates himself from the_ Count's _grasp_).
+
+Patience, my lord, patience!                             (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene XI.
+
+                           Appiani, Claudia.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Go, worthless wretch----Ha! that does me good. My blood
+circulates----I feel different and all the better.
+
+                    CLAUDIA (_hastily and alarmed_).
+
+Heavens! My lord--I overheard an angry altercation. Your cheek is
+flushed. What has happened?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Nothing, Madam, nothing. The chamberlain Marinelli has conferred a
+favour on me. He has saved me a visit to the Prince.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Indeed!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+We can therefore leave town earlier. I go to give orders to my people,
+and shall return immediately. Emilia will, in the meantime, get ready.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+May I feel quite at ease, my lord?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Perfectly so, dear Madam.                    (_Exeunt severally_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT III.
+
+     Scene, _an apartment in the_ Prince's _country palace_.
+
+
+                                Scene I.
+
+                    _Enter_ Prince _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In vain. He refused the proffered honour with the greatest contempt.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+This ends all hope, then. Things take their course,
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+According to all appearances.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I relied so firmly on your project--but who knows how ridiculously you
+acted? I ought to have recollected that though a blockhead's counsel
+may be good, it requires a clever man to execute it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A pretty reward, this!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Why should you be rewarded?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For having risked my life on the venture. Finding that neither raillery
+nor reason could induce the Count to sacrifice his love to honour, I
+tried to rouse his anger. I said things to him which made him
+forget himself. He used insulting expressions, and I demanded
+satisfaction--yes, satisfaction on the spot. One of us must fall,
+thought I. Should it be his fate, the field is ours--should it be
+mine--why, he must fly, and the Prince will at least gain time.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Did you act thus, Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes; he, who is ready to sacrifice his life for princes, ought to learn
+beforehand how grateful they are likely to be.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+And the Count? Report says that he is not the man to wait till
+satisfaction is a second time demanded.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+No doubt, in ordinary cases. Who can blame him? He said that he had
+then something of greater consequence than a duel to occupy his
+thoughts, and put me off till a week after his marriage.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+With Emilia Galotti. The idea drives me to distraction----Thus, then,
+the affair ended, and now you come hither to boast that you risked your
+life in my behalf--sacrificed yourself for me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What more, my lord, would you have had me do?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+More? As if you had done anything!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+May I be allowed to ask what your Highness has done for yourself? You
+were so fortunate as to see her at church. What is the result of your
+conference?
+
+                        PRINCE (_with a sneer_).
+
+You have curiosity enough--but I will satisfy it. All happened as I
+wished. You need take no further trouble, my most serviceable friend.
+She met my proposal more than half way. I ought to have taken her with
+me instantly. (_In a cold and commanding tone_.) Now you have heard
+what you wished to know, and may depart.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And may depart! Yes, yes. Thus the song ends, and so 'twould be were I
+to attempt the impossible. The impossible, did I say? No. Impossible it
+is not--only a daring attempt. Had we the girl in our power, I would
+answer for it that no marriage should take place.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Ay--you would answer for anything. I suppose, for instance, you would
+like to take a troop of my guards, lie in ambush by the highway, fall
+to the number of fifty upon one carriage, and bear the girl in triumph
+to me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A girl has been carried off before now by force, though there has been
+no appearance of force in the transaction.----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+If you were able to do this, you would not talk so much about it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+----But I cannot be answerable for the consequences. Unforeseen
+accidents may happen.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Is it my custom to make people answerable for what they cannot help?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Therefore your Highness will--(_a pistol is fired at a distance_). Ha!
+What was that? Did not my ears deceive me? Did not your Highness also
+hear a shot. And hark! Another!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What means this? What is the matter?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How if I were more active than you deemed me?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+More active! Explain, then----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In short, what I mentioned is now taking place.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Is it possible?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But forget not, Prince, what you just now promised. You pledge your
+word that----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The necessary precautions I hope have been taken.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes, as carefully as possible. The execution of my plan is entrusted to
+people on whom I can rely. The road, as you know, runs close by your
+park fence. There the carriage will be attacked by a party, apparently
+to rob the travellers. Another band (one of whom is my trusty servant)
+will rush from the park as if to assist those who are attacked. During
+the sham battle between the two parties, my servant will seize Emilia,
+as if to rescue her, and bring her through the park into the palace.
+This is the plan. What says your Highness now?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You surprise me beyond measure. A fearful anxiety comes o'er me.
+(Marinelli _walks to the window_.) What are you looking at?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+That must be the scene of action--yes, and see, some one in a mask has
+just leapt over the fence--doubtless to acquaint me with the result.
+Withdraw awhile, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Ah, Marinelli----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well--now, doubtless, I have done too much--as I before had done too
+little.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not so--not so--yet I cannot perceive----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Perceive?--It is best done at one blow. Withdraw quickly. You must not
+be seen here.
+
+                                                  (_Exit_ Prince.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                   Marinelli _and presently_ Angelo.
+
+                MARINELLI (_goes again to the window_).
+
+The carriage is returning slowly to town. So slowly? and at each door a
+servant? These appearances do not please me; they show the plot has
+only half succeeded. They are driving some wounded person carefully,
+and he is not dead. The fellow in the mask comes nearer. 'Tis Angelo
+himself--foolhardy! But he knows the windings of this place. He beckons
+to me--he must know that he has succeeded.--Ha! ha! Count Appiani. You,
+who refused an embassy to Massa, have been obliged to go a longer
+journey. Who taught you to recognize apes so well? 'Tis true, they are
+malicious (_walks towards the door_). Well, Angelo?
+
+           _Enter_ Angelo, _with his mash in his hand_.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Be ready, my lord. She will be here directly.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How did you succeed in other respects?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+As you wished, I have no doubt.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How is it with the Count?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+So, so. But he must have had some suspicions, for he was not quite
+unprepared.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Quick, tell me--is he dead?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+I am sorry for him, poor man.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+There! Take that for thy compassion (_gives him a purse_).
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+And our poor Nicolo too, he has shared the same luck.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What! Loss on both sides?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Yes. I could cry for the honest lad's fate; though I come in for
+another quarter of this purse by it; for I am his heir, since I avenged
+him. This is a law among us, and as good a law, methinks, as ever was
+made for the support of friendship and fidelity. This Nicolo, my
+lord----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+No more of your Nicolo! The Count----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Zounds! The Count finished him, and I finished the Count. He fell, and
+though he might be alive when they put him into the coach, I'll answer
+for it that he will never come alive out of it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Were you but sure of this, Angelo----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+I'll forfeit your custom, if it be not true. Have you any further
+commands? For I have a long journey. We must be across the frontier
+before sunset.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Go, then.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Should anything else occur in my way, you know where to inquire for me.
+What any other can venture to do will be no magic for me, and my terms
+are lower than any other's.                              (_Exit_.)
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+'Tis well--yet not so well as it might have been. Shame on thee,
+Angelo, to be such a niggard! Surely the Count was worthy of a second
+shot. Now, he may die in agony; poor Count! Shame, Angelo! It was a
+cruel and bungling piece of work. The Prince must not know what has
+happened. He himself must discover how advantageous this death is to
+him. Death! What would I not give to be certain of it!
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                         The Prince, Marinelli.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Here she comes up the avenue. She flies before the servants. Fear gives
+wings to her feet. She must not suspect our design. She thinks she is
+escaping from robbers. How long will her mistake last?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+At least we have her here.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But will not her mother come in search of her? Will not the Count
+follow her? What can we do then? How can I keep her from them?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To all this I confess I can make no reply. But we must see. Compose
+yourself, Prince. This first step was, at all events, necessary.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How so, if we are obliged to recede?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But perhaps we need not. There are a thousand things on which we may
+make further steps. Have you forgotten the chief one?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How can I have forgotten that of which I never thought? What mean you
+by the chief one?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The art of pleasing and persuading--which in a prince who loves can
+never fail.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Can never fail! True, except when it is most needed. I have already
+made a poor attempt in this art to-day. All my flattery, all my
+entreaties could not extract one word from her. Mute, trembling, and
+abashed, she stood before me like a criminal who fears the judge's
+fatal sentence. Her terror was infectious. I trembled also and
+concluded by imploring her forgiveness. Scarcely dare I speak to her
+again--and, at all events, I dare not be present when she arrives. You,
+Marinelli, must receive her. I will listen to your conversation, and
+join you when I am more collected.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+       Marinelli, _presently his servant_ Battista, _and_ Emilia.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If she did not see him fall--and of course she could not, as she fled
+instantly But she comes, and I too do not wish to be the first to meet
+her eye (_withdraws to a corner of the apartment_).
+
+                     _Enter_ Battista _and_ Emilia.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+This way--this way--dear lady.
+
+                       EMILIA (_out of breath_).
+
+Oh! I thank you, my friend--I thank you. But, Heavens! Where am I?
+Quite alone, too! Where are my mother, and the Count? They are surely
+coming? Are they not close behind me?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+I suppose so.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+You suppose so? Are you not certain? Have you not seen them? Were not
+pistols fired behind us?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Pistols? Was it so?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Surely. Oh, Heavens! and the Count or my mother is shot.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+I'll go in search of them instantly.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Not without me! I'll go with you! I must go with you. Come, my friend.
+
+          MARINELLI (_approaches as if he had just entered_).
+
+Ha! fair lady! What misfortune, or rather what good fortune--what
+fortunate misfortune has procured us the honour----
+
+                         EMILIA (_astonished_).
+
+How!--You here, my lord!--This then is doubtless your house. Pardon my
+intrusion. We have been attacked by robbers. Some good people came to
+our assistance,--and this honest man took me out of the carriage and
+conducted me hither. But I am alarmed to find that I alone am rescued.
+My mother must be still in danger. I heard pistols fired behind us.
+Perhaps she is dead,--and yet I live. Pardon me. I must away, I must
+return to the place, which I ought not to have left.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Compose yourself, dear lady. All is well. The beloved persons, for whom
+you feel this tender anxiety, will soon be here.--Run, Battista; they
+may perhaps not know where the lady is. See whether you can find them
+in any of the lodges, and conduct them hither instantly.
+
+                                                (_Exit_ Battista.)
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Are you sure they are all safe? Has nothing happened to them?--Oh, what
+a day of terrors has this been to me! But I ought not to remain here; I
+should hasten to meet them.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why so, dear lady? You are already breathless and exhausted. Compose
+yourself, and condescend to step into this room, where you will find
+better accommodation than here. I feel certain that the Prince has
+already found your gracious mother, and is escorting her hither.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Who do you say?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Our gracious Prince himself.
+
+                    EMILIA (_extremely terrified_).
+
+The Prince!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+He flew to your assistance at the first intelligence. He is highly
+incensed that such a crime should have been committed so near to his
+villa, nay, almost before his eyes. He has sent in search of the
+villains, and if they be seized, their punishment will be most severe.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+The Prince!--Where am I then?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+At Dosalo, the Prince's villa.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+How strange!--And you think he will soon arrive?--But with my mother
+too?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Here he is, already.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+              _The_ Prince, Emilia, _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Where is she? Where is she?--We have sought you everywhere, dear
+lady.--You are well, I hope? Now, all is well. The Count and your
+mother----
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Oh, your Highness! Where are they? Where is my mother?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not far off, close at hand.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Heavens! In what a situation shall I perhaps find one or other of them!
+For your Highness conceals from me--I perceive----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I conceal nothing, be assured. Lean on my arm, and accompany me to them
+without fear.
+
+                         EMILIA (_irresolute_).
+
+But--if they be not wounded--if my suspicions be not true--why are they
+not already here?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Hasten then, that all these sad apprehensions may at once be banished.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+What shall I do? (_wrings her hands_).
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How, dear lady! Can you harbour any suspicion against me?
+
+                     EMILIA (_falls at his feet_).
+
+On my knees I entreat you----
+
+                        PRINCE (_raising her_).
+
+I am quite ashamed.--Yes, Emilia, I deserve this mute reproach. My
+conduct this morning cannot be justified, or even excused. Pardon my
+weakness: I ought not to have made you uneasy by an avowal, from which
+I could expect no advantage. I was amply punished by the speechless
+agitation with which you listened to it, or rather did not listen to
+it. And if I might be allowed to think this accident the signal
+of more favourable fortune--the most wondrous respite of my final
+sentence--this accident, which allows me to behold and speak to you
+again before my hopes for ever vanish--this accident, which gives
+me an opportunity of imploring your forgiveness--yet will I--do not
+tremble--yet will I rely only and entirely on your looks. Not a sigh,
+not a syllable shall offend you. Only wound me not with suspicions--do
+not for a moment doubt the unbounded influence which you possess over
+me--only imagine not that you need any protection against me. And now
+come--come where delights more in harmony with your feelings, await
+you. (_Leads her away, not without opposition_.) Follow us, Marinelli.
+
+                                   (_Exeunt_ Prince _and_ Emilia.)
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Follow us! That means of course--Follow us not. And why should I follow
+them? He will now find how far he can proceed with her, without
+witnesses. All that I have to do is to prevent intrusion. From the
+Count I no longer expect it--but from her mother. Wonderful, indeed,
+would it be, were she to have departed quietly, leaving her daughter
+unprotected. Well, Battista, what now?
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                       Battista _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                         BATTISTA (_in haste_).
+
+The mother, my lord chamberlain----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+As I suspected. Where is she?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+She will be here immediately, unless you prevent it. When you ordered
+me to pretend to look for her, I felt little inclination to do so. But
+in the distance I heard her shrieks. She is in search of her daughter,
+and will discover the whole plot. All the people who inhabit this
+retired spot have gathered round her, and each vies with his neighbour
+to show her the way. Whether she has been told that you are here, or
+that the Prince is here, I know not. What is to be done?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Let us see (_considering_). Refuse her admittance when she knows that
+her daughter is here? That will not do. She will certainly open her
+eyes when she finds her lambkin in the clutches of the wolf. Eyes! They
+would be of little consequence; but Heaven have mercy on our ears!
+Well, well. A woman's lungs are not inexhaustible. She will be silent,
+when she can shriek no longer. Besides, the mother it is whom we should
+gain over to our side--and if I be a judge of mothers--to be a sort of
+prince's step--mother would flatter most of them. Let her come,
+Battista, let her come.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Hark, my lord!
+
+                          CLAUDIA (_within_).
+
+Emilia! Emilia! My child! Where are you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Go, Battista, and use your endeavours to dismiss her inquisitive
+companions.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Claudia, Battista, Marinelli.
+
+          _As_ Battista _is going_, Claudia _meets him_.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Ha! You took her out of the carriage. You led her away. I know you
+again. Where is she? Speak, wretch.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Are these your thanks?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Oh, if you merit thanks (_in a mild tone_), forgive me, worthy man.
+Where is she? Let me no longer be deprived of her. Where is she?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+She could not be more safe, were she in heaven.--My master, here, will
+conduct you to her. (_Observes that some people are beginning to
+follow_ Claudia.) Back there! Begone! (_Exit, driving them away_.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                          Claudia, Marinelli.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Your master? (_espies_ Marinelli, _and starts_). Ha! Is this your
+_master_? You here, Sir--and my daughter here--and you--you will
+conduct me to her?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+With great pleasure, madam.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Hold! It just occurs to me. It was you, I think, who visited Count
+Appiani this morning at my house,--whom I left alone with him,--and
+with whom he afterwards had a quarrel?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A quarrel? That I did not know. We had a trifling dispute respecting
+affairs of state.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+And your name is Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Marquis Marinelli.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+True. Hear, then, Marquis Marinelli. Your name, accompanied with a
+curse----but no--I will not wrong the noble man--the curse was inferred
+by myself--your name was the last word uttered by the dying Count.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The dying Count? Count Appiani?----You hear, Madam, what most surprises
+me in this your strange address--the dying Count?--What else you mean
+to imply, I know not.
+
+          CLAUDIA (_with asperity, and in a deliberate tone_).
+
+Marinelli was the last word uttered by the dying Count.--Do you
+understand me now? I myself did not at first understand it, though it
+was spoken in a tone--a tone which I still hear. Where were my senses
+that I could not understand it instantly?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well, Madam, I was always the Count's friend--his intimate friend. If,
+therefore, he pronounced my name at the hour of death----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+In that tone!--I cannot imitate--I cannot describe it--but it
+signified----everything. What! Were we attacked by robbers? No--by
+assassins--by hired assassins: and Marinelli was the last word uttered
+by the dying Count, in such a tone----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In such a tone? Did any one ever hear that a tone of voice used in a
+moment of terror could be a ground of accusation against an honest man?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Oh that I could appear before a tribunal of justice, and imitate that
+tone? Yet, wretch that I am! I forget my daughter. Where is she--dead
+too? Was it my daughter's fault that Appiani was thy enemy?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I revere the mother's fears, and therefore pardon you.--Come, Madam.
+Your daughter is in an adjoining room, and I hope her alarms are by
+this time at an end. With the tenderest solicitude is the Prince
+himself employed in comforting her.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Who?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+The Prince! Do you really say the Prince--our Prince?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Who else should it be?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Wretched mother that I am!--And her father, her father! He will curse
+the day of her birth. He will curse me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For Heaven's sake, Madam, what possesses you?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+It is clear. To-day--at church--before the eyes of the All-pure--in the
+presence of the Eternal, this scheme of villainy began. (_To_
+Marinelli.) Murderer! Mean, cowardly murderer! Thou wast not bold
+enough to meet him face to face, but base enough to bribe assassins
+that another might be gratified. Thou scum of murderers! honourable
+murderers would not endure thee in their company. Why may I not spit
+all my gall, all my rancour into thy face, thou panderer?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You rave, good woman. Moderate your voice, at any rate, and remember
+where you are.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Where I am! Remember where I am! What cares the lioness, when robbed of
+her young, in whose forest she roars?
+
+                           EMILIA (_within_).
+
+Ha! My mother! I hear my mother's voice.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Her voice? 'Tis she! She has heard me. Where are you, my child?--I
+come, I come (_rushes into the room, followed by_ Marinelli).
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT IV.
+
+                         Scene I.--_The same_.
+
+                      The Prince _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Come, Marinelli, I must collect myself--I look to you for explanation.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Oh! maternal anger! Ha! ha! ha!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You laugh?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Had you, Prince, but seen her frantic conduct in this room! You heard
+how she screamed; yet how tame she became as soon as she beheld you!
+Ha! ha! Yes--I never yet knew the mother who scratched a prince's eyes
+out, because he thought her daughter handsome.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You are a poor observer. The daughter fell senseless into her mother's
+arms. This made the mother forget her rage. It was her daughter, not
+me, whom she spared, when, in a low voice, she uttered--what I myself
+had rather not have heard--had rather not have understood.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What means your Highness?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Why this dissimulation? Answer me. Is it true or false?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And if it were true!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+If it were! It is, then--he is dead (_in a threatening tone_).
+Marinelli! Marinelli!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+By the God of justice I swear that I am innocent of this blood. Had you
+previously told me that the Count's life must be sacrificed--God is my
+witness I would as soon have consented to lose my own.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Had I previously told you! As if the Count's death was part of my plan!
+I charged Angelo that on his soul he should take care that no person
+suffered injury; and this, too, would have been the case, had not the
+Count begun the fray, and shot the first assailant on the spot.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Indeed! he ought to have understood the joke better.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+So that Angelo was enraged, and instantly avenged his comrade's
+death----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Well, that is certainly very natural.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I have reproved him for it.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Reproved him! How good--natured! Advise him never to appear again in my
+dominions; for my reproof might not be found so good-natured.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Just as I foresaw! I and Angelo.--Design and accident; all the
+same.--It was, however, agreed, and indeed promised, that I should not
+be answerable for any accidents which might happen.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+_Might_ happen, say you, or _must_?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Still better! Yet one word, your Highness, before you say in harsh
+phrase what you think of me. The Count's death was far from being a
+matter of indifference to me. I had challenged him. He left the world
+without giving me satisfaction, and my honour, consequently, remains
+tarnished. Allowing, therefore, what under other circumstances I
+deserved the suspicion you allude to, can I in this? (_with assumed
+anger_.) He who can so suspect me----
+
+                          PRINCE (_yielding_).
+
+Well, well!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Oh that he were still alive! I would give all that I possess--(_with
+bitterness_)--even the favour of my Prince--even that treasure,
+invaluable and never to be trifled with, would I give.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Well, well! I understand you. His death was accidental, merely
+accidental--you assure me that it was so, and I believe it. But will
+any one else believe it? Will Emilia--her mother--the world?
+
+                         MARINELLI (_coldly_).
+
+Scarcely.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What, then, will they believe? You shrug your shoulders. They will
+suppose Angelo the tool and me the prime mover.
+
+                    MARINELLI (_still more coldly_).
+
+Probable enough!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Me! me, myself!--or from this hour I must resign all hopes of Emilia.
+
+            MARINELLI (_in a tone of perfect indifference_).
+
+Which you must also have done, had the Count lived.
+
+                         PRINCE (_violently_).
+
+Marinelli!--(_checking his warmth_)--But you shall not rouse my anger.
+Be it so. It is so. You mean to imply that the Count's death is
+fortunate for me;--the best thing which could have happened--the only
+circumstance which could bring my passion to a happy issue--and,
+therefore, no matter how it happened. A Count more or less in the world
+is of little consequence. Am I right?--I am not alarmed at a little
+crime; but it must be a secret little crime, a serviceable little
+crime. But ours has not been either secret or serviceable. It has
+opened a passage only to close it again. Every one will lay it to our
+door. And, after all, we have not perpetrated it at all. This can only
+be the result of your wise and wonderful management.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If your Highness have it so----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Why not?--I want an explanation----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am accused of more than I deserve.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I want an explanation.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well then, what error in my plans has attached such obvious suspicion
+to the Prince? The fault lies in the master-stroke which your Highness
+so graciously put to my plans----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Allow me to say that the step which you took at church this
+morning--with whatever circumspection it was done, or however
+inevitable it might be--was not part of my programme.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How did that injure it?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Not indeed the whole plan, but its opportuneness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Do I understand you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To speak more intelligibly. When I undertook the business, Emilia knew
+nothing of the Prince's attachment. Her mother just as little. How if I
+formed my foundation upon this circumstance, and in the meantime the
+Prince was undermining my edifice?
+
+                   PRINCE (_striking his forehead_).
+
+Damnation!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How, if he himself betrayed his intentions?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Cursed interposition!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For had he not so behaved himself I should like to know what part of my
+plan could have raised the least suspicion in the mind of the mother or
+the daughter?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You are right.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And therein I certainly am very wrong.--Pardon me.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                    Battista, The Prince, Marinelli.
+
+                     _Enter_ BATTISTA (_hastily_).
+
+The Countess is arrived.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The Countess? What Countess?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Orsina!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Orsina? Marinelli!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am as much astonished as yourself.
+
+                        PRINCE (_to_ Battista).
+
+Go--run--Battista. She must not alight. I am not here--not here to her.
+She must return this instant. Go, go. (_Exit_ Battista). What does the
+silly woman want? How dares she take this liberty? How could she know
+that we were here? Is she come as a spy? Can she have heard anything?
+Oh, Marinelli, speak, answer me. Is the man offended, who vows he is my
+friend--offended by a paltry altercation? Shall I beg pardon?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Prince, as soon as you recover yourself, I am yours again, with my
+whole soul. The arrival of Orsina is as much an enigma to me as to you.
+But she will not be denied. What will you do?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I will not speak to her. I will withdraw.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Right! Do so instantly; I will receive her.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But merely to dismiss her. No more. We have other business to perform.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Not so, not so. Our other things are done. Summon up resolution and all
+deficiencies will be supplied. But do I not hear her? Hasten, Prince.
+In that room (_pointing to an adjoining apartment, to which the_ Prince
+_retires_)--you may, if you please, listen to our conversation. She
+comes, I fear, at an unpropitious moment for her.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    The Countess Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                ORSINA (_without perceiving_ Marinelli).
+
+What means this? No one comes to meet me, but a shameless servant, who
+endeavours to obstruct my entrance. Surely I am at Dosalo, where, on
+former occasions, an army of attendants rushed to receive me--where
+love and ecstasy awaited me. Yes. The place is the same, but----Ha! you
+here, Marinelli? I am glad the Prince has brought you with him. Yet,
+no. My business with his Highness must be transacted with himself only.
+Where is he?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince, Countess?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Who else?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You suppose that he is here, then,--or know it, perhaps. He, however,
+does not expect a visit from your ladyship.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Indeed! He has not then received my letter this morning.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your letter? But--yes. I remember he mentioned that he had received
+one.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Well? Did I not in that letter request he would meet me here to-day? I
+own he did not think proper to return a written answer; but I learnt
+that an hour afterwards he drove from town to Dosalo. This I thought a
+sufficient answer, and therefore I have come.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A strange accident!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Accident! It was an agreement--at least as good as an agreement. On my
+part, the letter--on his, the deed. How you stand staring, Marquis!
+What surprises you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You seemed resolved yesterday never to appear before the Prince again.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Night is a good councillor. Where is he? Where is he? Doubtless in the
+chamber, whence sighs and sobs were issuing as I passed. I wished to
+enter, but the impertinent servant would not let me pass.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Dearest Countess----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I heard a woman's shriek. What means this, Marinelli? Tell me--if I be
+your dearest Countess--tell me. A curse on these court slaves! Their
+tales! their lies! But what matters it whether you choose to tell me or
+not? I will see for myself.
+
+                    MARINELLI (_holding her back_).
+
+Whither would you go?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Where I ought to have gone long since. Is it proper, think you,
+that I should waste any time in idle conversation with you in the
+ante-chamber, when the Prince expects me in the saloon?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You are mistaken, Countess. The Prince does not expect you here. He
+cannot--will not see you.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+And yet is here, in consequence of my letter.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Not in consequence of your letter.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+He received it, you say.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes, but he did not read it.
+
+                         ORSINA (_violently_).
+
+Not read it! (_Less violently_.) Not read it! (_Sorrowfully, and wiping
+away a tear_.) Not even read it!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+From preoccupation, I am certain, not contempt.
+
+                         ORSINA (_with pride_).
+
+Contempt! Who thought of such a thing? To whom do you use the term?
+Marinelli, your comfort is impertinent. Contempt! Contempt! To me! (_In
+a milder tone_.) It is true that he no longer loves me. That is
+certain. And in place of love something else has filled his soul. It is
+natural. But why should this be contempt? Indifference would be enough.
+Would it not, Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Certainly, certainly.
+
+                    ORSINA (_with a scornful look_).
+
+Certainly! What an oracle, who can be made to say what one pleases!
+Indifference in the place of love!--That means nothing in the place of
+something. For learn, thou mimicking court-parrot, learn from a woman,
+that indifference is but an empty word, a mere sound which means
+nothing. The mind can only be indifferent to objects of which it does
+not think; to things which for itself have no existence. Only
+indifferent for a thing that is nothing--that is as much as saying not
+indifferent. Is that meaning beyond thee, man?
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+Alas! how prophetic were my fears?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+What do you mutter?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Mere admiration! Who does not know, Countess, that you are a
+philosopher?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Am I not? True; I am a philosopher. But have I now shown it; ah, shame!
+If I have shown it, and have often done so, it were no wonder if the
+Prince despised me. How can man love a creature which, in spite of him,
+will _think_? A woman who thinks is as silly as a man who uses paint.
+She ought to laugh--do nothing but laugh, that the mighty lords of the
+creation may be kept in good humour--What makes me laugh now,
+Marinelli? Why, the accidental circumstance that I should have written
+to the Prince to come hither--that he should not have read my letter
+and nevertheless have come. Ha! ha! ha! 'Tis an odd accident, very
+pleasant and amusing. Why don't you laugh, Marinelli? The mighty lords
+of the creation may laugh, though we poor creatures dare not think.
+(_In a serious and commanding tone_.) Then laugh, you!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Presently, Countess, presently.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Blockhead! while you speak the proper moment is for ever past. No. Do
+not laugh--for mark me, Marinelli, (_with emotion_) that which makes me
+laugh, has, like every thing in the world, its serious side. Accident!
+Could it be accidental that the Prince, who little thought that he
+would see me here, must see me?--Accident! Believe me, Marinelli, the
+word accident is blasphemy. Nothing under the sun is accidental, and
+least of all this, of which the purpose is so evident.--Almighty and
+all--bounteous Providence, pardon me that I joined this poor weak
+sinner in giving the name of accident to what so plainly is Thy
+work--yes, Thy immediate work. (_In a hasty tone to_ Marinelli.) Dare
+not again to lead me thus astray from truth.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+This is going too far (_aside_)--But, Countess----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Peace with your _but_--that word demands reflection, and--my head, my
+head!--(_Puts her hand to her forehead_)--Contrive that I may speak to
+the Prince immediately, or I shall soon want strength to do so. You
+see, Marinelli, that I must speak to him--that I am resolved to speak
+to him.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                     The Prince, Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                   PRINCE (_aside, as he advances_).
+
+I must come to his assistance.
+
+    ORSINA (_espies him, but remains irresolute whether to approach
+                             him or not_).
+
+Ha! There he is.
+
+       PRINCE (_walks straight across the room towards the other
+                             apartments_).
+
+Ha! The fair Countess, as I live. How sorry I am, Madam, that I can
+to-day so ill avail myself of the honour of your visit. I am engaged. I
+am not alone. Another time, dear Countess, another time. At present
+stay no longer--no longer, I beg. And you, Marinelli--I want you.
+(_Exit_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                           Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your ladyship has now heard, from himself, what you would not believe
+from my lips, have you not?
+
+                      ORSINA (_as if petrified_).
+
+Have I? Have, I indeed?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Most certainly.
+
+                      ORSINA (_deeply affected_).
+
+"I am engaged, I am not alone." Is this all the excuse I am worth? For
+whose dismissal would not these words serve? For every importunate, for
+every beggar. Could he not frame one little falsehood for me? Engaged!
+With what? Not alone! Who can be with him? Marinelli, dear Marinelli,
+be compassionate--tell me a falsehood on your own account. What can a
+falsehood cost you? What has he to do? Who is with him? Tell me, tell
+me. Say anything which first occurs to you, and I will go.
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+On this condition, I may tell her part of the truth.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Quick, Marinelli, and I will go. He said, "Another time, dear
+Countess!" Did he not? That he may keep his promise--that he may have
+no pretext to break it--quick, then, Marinelli,--tell me a falsehood,
+and I will go.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince, dear Countess, is really not alone. There are persons with
+him, whom he cannot leave for a moment--persons, who have just escaped
+imminent danger. Count Appiani----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Is with him! What a pity that I know this to be false! Quick, another!
+for Count Appiani, if you do not know it, has just been assassinated by
+robbers. I met the carriage, with his body in it, as I came from town.
+Or did I not? Was it a dream?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Alas, it was not a dream. But they who accompanied the Count were
+fortunately rescued, and are now in this palace; namely, a lady to whom
+he was betrothed, and whom, with her mother, he was conducting to
+Sabionetta, to celebrate his nuptials.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+They are with the Prince! A lady and her mother! Is the lady handsome?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince is extremely sorry for her situation.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+That he would be, I hope, even if she were hideous--for her fate is
+dreadful. Poor girl! at the moment he was to become thine for ever, he
+was torn for ever from thee. Who is she? Do I know her? I have of late
+been so much out of town, that I am ignorant of every thing.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It is Emilia Galotti.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+What? Emilia Galotti? Oh, Marinelli, let me not mistake this lie for
+truth.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Emilia Galotti?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes. Whom you can scarcely know.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I do know her--though our acquaintance only began to-day. Emilia
+Galotti! Answer me seriously. Is Emilia Galotti the unfortunate lady
+whom the Prince is consoling?
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+Can I have disclosed too much?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+And Count Appiani was her destined bridegroom--Count Appiani, who was
+shot to-day?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Exactly.
+
+                     ORSINA (_clapping her hands_).
+
+Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What now?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I could kiss the devil that tempted him to do it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Whom? Tempted? To do what?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Yes, I could kiss--him--even wert thou that devil, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Countess!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Come hither. Look at me--steadfastly--eye to eye.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Know you not my thoughts?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How can I?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Have you no concern in it?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In what?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Swear. No, do not swear, for that might be another crime. But
+yes--swear. One sin more or less is of no consequence to a man who is
+already damned. Have you no concern in it?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You alarm me, Countess.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Indeed! Now, Marinelli--has your good heart no suspicion?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Suspicion? Of what?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+'Tis well. Then I will entrust you with a secret--a secret, which will
+make each hair upon your head stand on end. But here, so near the door,
+some one might overhear us. Come here--(_puts her finger to her
+mouth_)--mark me, it is a secret--a profound secret. (_Places her mouth
+to his ear, as if about to whisper, and shouts as loudly as she can_)
+The Prince is a murderer!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Countess! Countess! Have you lost your senses?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Senses? Ha! ha! ha! (_laughing loudly_). I have very seldom, if
+ever, been so satisfied with my understanding as I am at this moment.
+Depend upon it, Marinelli--but it is between ourselves--(_in a low
+voice_)--the Prince is a murderer--the murderer of Count Appiani. The
+Count was assassinated, not by robbers, but by the Prince's myrmidons,
+by the Prince himself.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How can so horrid a suspicion fall from your lips, or enter your
+imagination?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+How? Very naturally. This Emilia Galotti, who is now in the palace,
+and whose bridegroom--was thus trundled head over heels out of the
+world--this Emilia Galotti did the Prince to-day accost in the Church
+of the Dominicans, and held a lengthy conversation with her. That I
+know, for my spies not only saw it, but heard what he said. Now, sir,
+have I lost my senses? Methinks I connect the attendant circumstances
+very tolerably together. Or has all this happened, too, by accident? If
+so, Marinelli, you have as little idea of the wickedness of man as you
+have of prevision.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Countess, you would talk your life into danger----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Were I to mention this to others? So much the better! So much the
+better! To-morrow I will repeat it aloud in the market-place--and, if
+any one contradict me--if any one contradict me, he was the murderer's
+accomplice. Farewell. (_As she is going, she meets_ Odoardo _entering
+hastily_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                      Odoardo, Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Pardon me, gracious lady----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I can grant no pardon here, for I can take no offence. You must apply
+to this gentleman (_pointing to_ Marinelli).
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+The father! This completes the business.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Pardon a father, sir, who is in the greatest embarrassment, for
+entering unannounced.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Father!--(_turning round again_)--Of Emilia, no doubt! Ha! Thou art
+welcome.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+A servant came in haste to tell me that my family was in danger near
+here. I flew hither, he mentioned, and found that Count Appiani has
+been wounded--and carried back to town--and that my wife and daughter
+have found refuge in the palace. Where are they, sir, where are they?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Be calm, Colonel. Your wife and daughter have sustained no injury save
+from terror. They are both well. The Prince is with them. I will
+immediately announce you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Why announce? merely _announce_ me?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For reasons--on account of--on account of--you know, sir, that you are
+not upon the most friendly terms with the Prince. Gracious as may be
+his conduct towards your wife and daughter--they are ladies--will your
+unexpected appearance be welcome to him?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+You are right, my lord, you are right.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But, Countess, may I not first have the honour of handing you to your
+carriage?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+By no means.
+
+       MARINELLI (_taking her hand, not in the most gentle way_).
+
+Allow me to perform my duty.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Softly!--I excuse you, Marquis. Why do such as you ever consider mere
+politeness a duty, and neglect as unimportant what is really an
+essential duty? To announce this worthy man immediately is your duty.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Have you forgotten what the Prince himself commanded?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Let him come, and repeat his commands. I shall expect him.
+
+                  MARINELLI (_draws_ Odoardo _aside_).
+
+I am obliged to leave you, Colonel, with a lady whose intellect--you
+understand me, I mention this that you may know in what way to treat
+her remarks, which are sometimes singular. It were better not to enter
+into conversation with her.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Very well. Only make haste, my lord.
+
+                                               (_Exit_ Marinelli.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Orsina, Odoardo.
+
+ORSINA (_after a pause, during which she has surveyed_ Odoardo _with a
+look of compassion, while he has cast towards her a glance of
+curiosity_).
+
+Alas! What did he say to you, unfortunate man?
+
+                        ODOARDO (_half aside_).
+
+Unfortunate!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Truth it certainly was not--at least, not one of those sad truths which
+await you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Which await me? Do I, then, not know enough? Madam--but proceed,
+proceed.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+You know nothing?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Nothing.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Worthy father! What would I give that you were my father! Pardon me.
+The unfortunate so willingly associate together. I would faithfully
+share your sorrows--and your anger.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Sorrows and anger? Madam--but I forget--go on.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Should she even be your only daughter--your only child--but it matters
+not. An unfortunate child is ever an only one.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Unfortunate?--Madam! But why do I attend to her? And yet, by Heaven, no
+lunatic speaks thus.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Lunatic? That, then, was the secret which he told you of me. Well,
+well. It is perhaps not one of his greatest falsehoods. I feel that I
+am something like one; and believe me, sir, they who, under certain
+circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+What must I think?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Treat me not with contempt, old man. You possess strong sense. I know
+it by your resolute and reverend mien. You also possess sound judgment,
+yet I need but speak one word, and both these qualities are fled for
+ever.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Oh, Madam, they will have fled before you speak that word, unless you
+pronounce it soon. Speak, I conjure you; or it is not true that you are
+one of that good class of lunatics who claim our pity and respect; you
+are naught else than a common fool. You cannot have what you never
+possessed.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Mark my words, then. What do you know, who fancy that you know enough?
+That Appiani is wounded? Wounded only? He is dead.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Dead? Dead? Woman, you abide not by your promise. You said you would
+rob me of my reason, but you break my heart.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Thus much by the way. Now, let me proceed. The bridegroom is dead, and
+the bride, your daughter, worse than dead.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Worse? Worse than dead? Say that she too is dead--for I know but one
+thing worse.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+She is not dead; no, good father, she is alive, and will now just begin
+to live indeed; the finest, merriest fool's paradise of a life--as long
+as it lasts.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Say the word, Madam! The single word, which is to deprive me of my
+reason! Out with it! Distil not thus your poison drop by drop. That
+single word at once!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+You yourself shall put the letters of it together. This morning the
+Prince spoke to your daughter at church; this afternoon he has her at
+his----his summer-palace.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Spoke to her at church? The Prince to my daughter?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+With such familiarity and such fervour. Their agreement was about no
+trifling matter; and if they did agree, all the better: all the better
+if your daughter made this her voluntary asylum. You understand--and in
+that case this is no forcible seduction, but only a trifling--trifling
+assassination.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Calumny! Infamous calumny! I know my daughter. If there be murder here,
+there is seduction also, (_Looks wildly round, stamping and foaming_.)
+Now, Claudia! Now, fond mother! Have we not lived to see a day of joy?
+Oh, the gracious Prince! Oh, the mighty honour!
+
+                           ORSINA (_aside_).
+
+Have I roused thee, old man?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Here I stand before the robber's cave. (_Throws his coat back on both
+sides, and perceives he has no weapon_.) 'Tis a marvel that, in my
+haste, I have not forgotten my hands too. (_Feeling in all his
+pockets_.) Nothing, nothing.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Ha! I understand, and can assist you. I have brought one. (_Produces a
+dagger_.) There! Take it, take it quickly, ere any one observes us. I
+have something else, too--poison--but that is for women, not for men.
+Take this (_forcing the dagger upon him_), take it.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I thank thee. Dear child, whosoever again asserts thou art a lunatic,
+he shall answer it to me.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Conceal it, instantly. (Odoardo _hides the dagger_.) The opportunity
+for using it is denied to me. You will not fail to find one, and you
+will seize the first that comes, if you are a man. I am but a woman,
+yet I came hither resolute. We, old man, can trust each other, for we
+are both injured, and by the same seducer. Oh, if you knew how
+preposterously, how inexpressibly, how incomprehensibly, I have been
+injured by him, you would almost forget his conduct towards yourself.
+Do you know me? I am Orsina, the deluded, forsaken Orsina--perhaps
+forsaken only for your daughter. But how is she to blame? Soon she also
+will be forsaken; then another, another, and another. Ha! (_As if in
+rapture_) What a celestial thought! When all who have been victims of
+his arts shall form a band, and we shall be converted into Mĉnads, into
+furies; what transport will it be to tear him piecemeal, limb from
+limb, to wallow through his entrails, and wrench from its seat the
+traitor's heart--that heart which he promised to bestow on each, and
+gave to none. Ha! that indeed will be a glorious revelry!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                       Claudia, Odoardo, Orsina.
+
+                           _Enter_ Claudia.
+
+     CLAUDIA (_looks round, and as soon as she espies her husband,
+                          runs towards him_.)
+
+I was right. Our protector, our deliverer! Are you really here? Do I
+indeed behold you, Odoardo? From their whisper and their manner I knew
+it was the case. What shall I say to you, if you are still ignorant?
+What shall I say to you if you already know everything? But we are
+innocent. I am innocent. Your daughter is innocent. Innocent; wholly
+innocent.
+
+     ODOARDO (_who, on seeing his wife, has endeavoured to compose
+                               himself_).
+
+'Tis well. Be calm, and answer me.--(_To_ Orsina)--Not that I doubt
+your information, Madam. Is the Count dead?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+He is.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Is it true that the Prince spoke this morning to Emilia, at the church?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+It is; but if you knew how much she was alarmed--with what terror she
+rushed home.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Now, was my information false?
+
+                    ODOARDO (_with a bitter laugh_).
+
+I would not that it were! For worlds I would not that it were!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Am I a lunatic?
+
+                ODOARDO (_wildly pacing the apartment_).
+
+Oh!--nor as yet am I.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+You commanded me to be calm, and I obeyed--My dear husband, may I--may
+I entreat----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+What do you mean? Am I not calm? Who can be calmer than I? (_Putting
+restraint upon himself_.) Does Emilia know that Appiani is dead?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+She cannot know it, but I fear that she suspects it, because he does
+not appear.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And she weeps and sobs.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+No more. That is over, like her nature, which you know. She is the most
+timid, yet the most resolute of her sex; incapable of governing her
+first emotions, but upon the least reflection calm and prepared for
+all. She keeps the Prince at a distance--she speaks to him in a
+tone----Let us, dear Odoardo, depart immediately.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I came on horseback hither. What is to be done? You, Madam, will
+probably return to town?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Immediately.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+May I request you to take my wife with you.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+With pleasure.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Claudia, this is the Countess Orsina, a lady of sound sense, my friend
+and benefactress. Accompany her to town, and send our carriage hither
+instantly. Emilia must not return to Guastalla. She shall go with me.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+But--if only--I am unwilling to part from the child.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Is not her father here? I shall be admitted at last. Do not delay!
+Come, my lady. (_Apart to her_.) You shall hear from me.--Come,
+Claudia. (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT V.
+
+
+                         Scene I.--_As before_.
+
+                         The Prince, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+From this window your Highness may observe him. He is walking to and
+fro under the arcade. Now he turns this way. He comes; no, he turns
+again. He has not yet altogether made up his mind; but is much calmer,
+or at least appears so. To us this is unimportant. He will scarcely
+dare utter the suspicions which these women have expressed! Battista
+says that he desired his wife to send the carriage hither as soon as
+she should reach the town, for he came hither on horseback. Mark my
+words. When he appears before your Highness, he will humbly return
+thanks for the gracious protection which you were pleased to afford to
+his family, will recommend himself and his daughter to your further
+favour, quietly take her to town, and with perfect submission await the
+further interest which your Highness may think proper to take in the
+welfare of his child.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But should he not be so resigned--and I scarcely think he will, I know
+him too well to expect it--he may, perhaps, conceal his suspicions, and
+suppress his indignation; but instead of conducting Emilia to town, he
+may take her away and keep her with himself, or place her in some
+cloister beyond my dominions. What then?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Love's fears are farsighted. But he will not.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But, if he were to do it, what would the death of the unfortunate Count
+avail us?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why this gloomy supposition? "Forward!" shouts the victor, and asks not
+who falls near him--friend or foe. Yet if the old churl should act as
+you fear, prince--(_After some consideration_) I have it. His wish
+shall prove the end of his success. I'll mar his plan. But we must not
+lose sight of him. (_Walks again to the window_.) He had almost
+surprised us. He comes. Let us withdraw awhile, and in the meanwhile,
+Prince, you shall hear how we can elude the evil you apprehend.
+
+                   PRINCE (_in a threatening tone_).
+
+But, Marinelli----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The most innocent thing in the world.                  (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Still no one here? 'Tis well. They allow me time to get still cooler. A
+lucky chance. Nothing is more unseemly than a hoary-headed man
+transported with the rage of youth. So I have often thought, yet I have
+suffered myself to be aroused----by whom? By a woman whom jealousy had
+driven to distraction. What has injured virtue to do with the revenge
+of vice? I have but to save the former. And thy cause, my son--my
+son----I could never weep, and will not learn the lesson now. There is
+another, who will avenge thy cause. Sufficient for me that thy murderer
+shall not enjoy the fruit of his crime. May this torment him more than
+even the crime itself; and when at length loathsome satiety shall drive
+him from one excess to another, may the recollection of having failed
+in this poison the enjoyment of all! In every dream may the bride
+appear to him, led to his bedside by the murdered bridegroom; and when,
+in spite of this, he stretches forth his sinful arms to seize the
+prize, may he suddenly hear the derisive laughter of hell echo in his
+ears, and so awake.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                          Marinelli, Odoardo.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+We have been looking for you, Sir.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Has my daughter been here?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+No; the Prince.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I beg his pardon. I have been conducting the Countess to her carriage.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+A good lady!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And where is your lady?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She accompanied the Countess that she might send my carriage hither. I
+would request the Prince to let me stay with my daughter till it
+arrives.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why this ceremony? The Prince would have felt pleasure in conducting
+your daughter and her mother to town.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+My daughter at least would have been obliged to decline that honour.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why so?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She will not go to Guastalla again.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed! Why not?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Count Appiani is dead.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For that very reason----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She must go with me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+With you?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+With me.--I tell you the Count is dead--though she may not know it.
+What therefore has she to do in Guastalla? She must go with me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The future residence of the lady must certainly depend upon her
+father--but at present----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well? What?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+At present, sir, you will, I hope, allow her to be conveyed to
+Guastalla.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+My daughter, conveyed to Guastalla? Why so?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why! Consider----
+
+                         ODOARDO (_incensed_).
+
+Consider! consider! consider that there is nothing to consider. She
+must and shall go with me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+We need have no contention on the subject, sir. I may be mistaken. What
+I think necessary may not be so. The Prince is the best judge--he,
+therefore, will decide. I go to bring him to you.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                                Odoardo.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+How? Never! Prescribe to me whether she shall go! Withhold her from me!
+Who will do this?--Who dares attempt it?--He, who dares here do
+anything he pleases?----'Tis well, 'tis well. Then shall he see how
+much I, too, dare, and whether I have not already dared. Short-sighted
+voluptuary! I defy thee.--He who regards no law is as independent
+as he who is subject to no law. Knowest thou not this? Come on, come
+on----But what am I saying? My temper once more overpowers my reason.
+What do I want? I should first know why I rave. What will not a
+courtier assert? Better had I allowed him to proceed. I should have
+heard his pretext for conveying my daughter to Guastalla, and I could
+have prepared a proper reply. But can I need a reply!--Should one fail
+me--should----I hear footsteps. I will be calm.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                    The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+My dear worthy Galotti.--Was such an accident necessary to bring you to
+your Prince? Nothing less would have sufficed--but I do not mean to
+reproach you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Your Highness, I have ever thought it unbecoming to press into the
+presence of my Prince. He will send for those whom he wants. Even now I
+ask your pardon----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Would that many, whom I know, possessed this modest pride!--But to the
+subject. You are, doubtless, anxious to see your daughter. She is again
+alarmed on account of her dear mother's sudden departure. And why
+should she have departed? I only waited till the terrors of the lovely
+Emilia were completely removed, and then I should have conveyed both
+the ladies in triumph to town. Your arrival has diminished by half the
+pleasure of this triumph; but I will not entirely resign it.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Your Highness honours me too much. Allow me to spare my unfortunate
+child the various mortifications, which friendship and enmity,
+compassion and malicious pleasure, prepare for her in town.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Of the sweet comforts, which the friendly and compassionate bestow, it
+would be cruelty to deprive her; but against all the mortifications of
+enmity and malice, believe me, I will guard her, dear Galotti.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Prince, paternal love is jealous of its duties. I think I know what
+alone suits my daughter in her present situation. Retirement from the
+world--a cloister as soon as possible.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+A cloister?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Till then, let her weep under the protection of her father.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Shall so much beauty wither in a cloister?----Should one disappointed
+hope embitter one against the world?--But as you please. No one has a
+right to dictate to a parent. Take your daughter wherever you think
+proper, Galotti.
+
+                       ODOARDO (_to_ Marinelli).
+
+Do you hear, my lord?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Nay, if you call upon me to speak----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+By no means, by no means.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What has happened between you two?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Nothing, your Highness, nothing. We were only settling which of us had
+been deceived in your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How so?--Speak, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am sorry to interfere with the condescension of my Prince, but
+friendship commands that I should make an appeal to him as judge.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What friendship?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your Highness knows how sincerely I was attached to Count Appiani--how
+our souls were interwoven----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Does his Highness know that? Then you are indeed the only one who does
+know it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Appointed his avenger by himself----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+You?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Ask your wife. The name of Marinelli was the last word of the dying
+Count, and was uttered in such a tone----Oh may that dreadful tone
+sound in my ears for ever, if I do not strain every nerve to discover
+and to punish his murderers!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Rely upon my utmost aid.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And upon my most fervent wishes. All this is well. But what further?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That I, too, want to know, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It is suspected that the Count was not attacked by robbers----
+
+                       ODOARDO (_with a sneer_).
+
+Indeed!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But that a rival hired assassins to despatch him.
+
+                          ODOARDO (_bitterly_).
+
+Indeed! A rival?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Exactly.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well then--May damnation overtake the vile assassin!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A rival--a favoured rival too.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+How? Favoured? What say you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Nothing but what fame reports.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Favoured? favoured by my daughter?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Certainly not. That cannot be. Were you to say it I would contradict
+it. But, on this account, your Highness, though no prejudice, however
+well-grounded, can be of any weight in the scale of justice, it will,
+nevertheless, be absolutely necessary that the unfortunate lady should
+be examined.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+True--undoubtedly.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And where can this be done but in Guastalla?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+There you are right, Marinelli, there you are right.--This alters the
+affair, dear Galotti. Is it not so. You yourself must see----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Yes! I see----what I see. O God! O God!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What now? What is the matter?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I am only angry with myself for not having foreseen what I now
+perceive. Well, then--she shall return to Guastalla. I will take her to
+her mother, and till she has been acquitted, after the most rigid
+examination, I myself will not leave Guastalla. For who knows--(_with a
+bitter smile of irony_)--who knows whether the court of justice may not
+think it necessary to examine me?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It is very possible. In such cases justice rather does too much than
+too little. I therefore even fear----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What? What do you fear?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+That the mother and daughter will not, at present, be suffered to
+confer together.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Not confer together?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It will be necessary to keep mother and daughter apart.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+To keep mother and daughter apart?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The mother, the daughter, and the father. The forms of the court
+absolutely enjoin this caution; and I assure your Highness that it
+pains me that I must enforce the necessity of at least placing Emilia
+in strict security.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+In strict security!--Oh, Prince, Prince!--Butyes--right!--of course, of
+course! In strict security! Is it not so, Prince? Oh! justice! oh
+justice is a fine thing! Excellent! (_Hastily puts his hand into the
+pocket in which he had concealed the dagger_.)
+
+                     PRINCE (_in a soothing tone_).
+
+Compose yourself, dear Galotti.
+
+      ODOARDO (_aside, drawing his hand, without the dagger, from
+                             his pocket_).
+
+There spoke his guardian angel.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You are mistaken. You do not understand him. You think, perhaps, by
+security is meant a prison and a dungeon.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Let me think so, and I shall be at ease.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not a word of imprisonment, Marinelli. The rigour of the law may easily
+be combined with the respect due to unblemished virtue. If Emilia must
+be placed in proper custody, I know the most proper situation for
+her--my chancellor's house. No opposition, Marinelli. Thither I will
+myself convey her, and place her under the protection of one of the
+worthiest of ladies, who shall be answerable for her safety. You go too
+far, Marinelli, you go too far, if you require more. Of course,
+Galotti, you know my chancellor Grimaldi and his wife?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Undoubtedly I do. I also know the amiable daughters of this noble pair.
+Who does not know them? (_To_ Marinelli).--No, my lord--do not agree to
+this. If my daughter must be confined, she ought to be confined in the
+deepest dungeon. Insist upon it, I beseech you. Fool that I was to make
+any request. Yes, the good Sybil was right. "They, who under certain
+circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose."
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I do not understand you. Dear Galotti, what can I do more? Be
+satisfied, I beseech you. She shall be conveyed to the chancellor's
+house. I myself will convey her thither; and if she be not there
+treated with the utmost respect, my word is of no value. But fear
+nothing; it is settled. You, Galotti, may do as you think proper. You
+may follow us to Guastalla, or return to Sabionetta, as you please. It
+would be ridiculous to dictate any conduct to you. And now, farewell
+for the present, dear Galotti.--Come, Marinelli. It grows late.
+
+         ODOARDO (_who has been standing in deep meditation_).
+
+--How! May I not even see my daughter, then? May I not even see her
+here? I submit to everything--I approve of everything. A chancellor's
+house is, of course, a sanctuary of virtue. Take my daughter thither, I
+beseech your Highness--nowhere but thither. Yet I would willingly have
+some previous conversation with her. She is still ignorant of the
+Count's death, and will be unable to understand why she is separated
+from her parents. That I may apprise her gently of the one, and console
+her for this parting----I must see her, Prince, I must see her.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Come, then, with us.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Surely the daughter can come to her father. Let us have a short
+conversation here, without witnesses. Send her hither, I beg your
+Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That, too, shall be done. Oh, Galotti, if you would be my friend, my
+guide, my father!
+
+                                (_Exeunt_ Prince _and_ Marinelli).
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                                Odoardo.
+
+ODOARDO (_after a pause, during which his eyes follow the_
+                                Prince).
+
+Why not? Most willingly. Ha! ha! ha! (_Looks wildly around_.) Who
+laughed? By Heaven I believe it was myself. 'Tis well. I will
+be merry. The game is near an end. Thus must it be, or thus.
+But--(_pauses_)--how if she were in league with him? How if this were
+the usual deception? How if she were not worthy of what I am about to
+do for her? (_Pauses again_.) And what am I about to do for her? Have I
+a heart to name it even to myself? A thought comes to me--a thought
+which can be but a thought. Horrible!--I will go. I will not wait until
+she comes. (_Raises his eyes towards Heaven_.) If she be innocent, let
+Him who plunged her into this abyss, extricate her from it. He needs
+not my hand. I will away. (_As he is going he espies_ Emilia.) Ha! 'Tis
+too late. My hand is required--He requires it.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Emilia, Odoardo.
+
+                            _Enter_ Emilia.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+How! Ton here, my father? And you alone--without the Count--without my
+mother? So uneasy, too, my father?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And you so much at ease, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Why should I not be so, my father? Either all is lost, or nothing. To
+be able to be at ease, and to be obliged to be at ease, do they not
+come to the same thing!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+But what do you suppose to be the case?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That all is lost--therefore that we must be at ease, my father.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And you are at ease, because necessity requires it? Who are you? A
+girl; my daughter? Then should the man and the father be ashamed
+of you. But let me hear. What mean you when you say that all is
+lost?--that Count Appiani is dead?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And why is he dead? Why? Ha! It is, then, true, my father--the horrible
+tale is true which I read in my mother's tearful and wild looks. Where
+is my mother? Where has she gone?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She is gone before us--if we could but follow her.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Oh, the sooner the better. For if the Count be dead--if he was doomed
+to die on that account--Ha! Why do we stay here? Let us fly, my father.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Fly! Where is the necessity? You are in the hands of your ravisher, and
+will there remain.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I remain in his hands?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And alone--without your mother--without me.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I remain alone in his hands? Never, my father--or you are not my
+father. I remain alone in his hands? 'Tis well. Leave me, leave me. I
+will see who can detain me--who can compel me. What human being can
+compel another?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I thought, my child, you were tranquil.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I am so. But what do you call tranquillity?--To lay my hands in my lap,
+and patiently bear what cannot be borne, and suffer what should be
+suffered.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Ha! If such be thy thoughts, come to my arms, my daughter. I have ever
+said, that Nature, when forming woman, wished to form her master-piece.
+She erred in that the clay she chose was too plastic. In every other
+respect man is inferior to woman. Ha! If this be thy composure, I
+recognize my daughter again. Come to my arms. Now, mark me. Under the
+pretence of legal examination, the Prince--tears thee (the hellish
+fool's play!) tears thee from our arms, and places thee under the
+protection of Grimaldi.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Tears me from your arms? Takes me--would tear me--take
+me--would--would----As if we ourselves had no will, father.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+So incensed was I, that I was on the point of drawing forth this dagger
+(_produces it_), and plunging it into the hearts of both the villains.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Heaven forbid it! my father. This life is all the wicked can enjoy.
+Give me, give me the dagger.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Child, it is no bodkin.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+If it were, it would serve as a dagger. 'Twere the same.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+What! Is it come to that? Not yet, not yet. Reflect. You have but one
+life to lose, Emilia.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And but one innocence.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Which is proof against all force.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+But not against all seduction. Force! Force! What is that? Who may not
+defy force? What you call force is nothing. Seduction is the only real
+force. I have blood, my father, as youthful and as warm as that of
+others. I have senses too. I cannot pledge myself: I guarantee nothing.
+I know the house of Grimaldi. It is a house of revelry--a single hour
+spent in that society, under the protection of my mother, created such
+a tumult in my soul, that all the rigid exercises of religion could
+scarcely quell it in whole weeks. Religion! And what religion? To avoid
+no worse snares thousands have leapt into the waves, and now are
+saints. Give me the dagger, then, my father, give it to me.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And didst thou but know who armed me with this dagger----
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That matters not. An unknown friend is not the less a friend. Give me
+the dagger, father, I beseech you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And if I were to give it you?--what then? There! (_He presents it_)
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And there! (_She seizes it with ardour, and is about to stab herself
+when_ Odoardo _wrests it from her_.)
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+See how rash----No; it is not for thy hand.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Tis true; then with this bodkin will I! (_she searches for one in her
+hair, and feels the rose in her head_). Art thou still there? Down,
+down! thou shouldst not deck the head of one, such as my father wishes
+me to be!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Oh! my daughter!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Oh, my father! if I understand you. But no, you will not do it, or why
+so long delayed. (_In a bitter tone, while she plucks the leaves of the
+rose_.) In former days there was a father, who, to save his daughter
+from disgrace plunged the first deadly weapon which he saw, into his
+daughter's heart--and thereby gave her life, a second time. But those
+were deeds of ancient times. Such fathers exist not now.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+They do, they do, my daughter (_stabs her_). God of heaven! What have I
+done? (_supports her in his arms as she sinks_.)
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Oh, let me
+kiss this kind parental hand.
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo, Emilia.
+
+                          PRINCE (_entering_).
+
+What means this? Is Emilia not well?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Very well, very well.
+
+                      PRINCE (_approaching her_.)
+
+What do I see? Oh, horror!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am lost!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Cruel father, what hast thou done.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Said you not
+so, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Not you, my father. I, I myself----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Not thou my daughter--not thou! Quit not this world with falsehood on
+thy lips. Not thou, my daughter--thy father, thy unfortunate father.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Ah!--My father----(_Dies in his arms. He lays her gently on the
+floor_.)
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Ascend on high! There, Prince! Does she still charm you? Does she still
+rouse your appetites?--here, weltering in her blood--which cries for
+vengeance against you. (_After a pause_.) Doubtless you wait to see the
+end of this. You expect, perhaps, that I shall turn the steel against
+myself, and finish the deed like some wretched tragedy. You are
+mistaken. There! (_Throws the dagger at his feet_.) There lies the
+blood-stained witness of my crime. I go to deliver myself into the
+hands of justice. I go to meet you as my judge: then I shall meet you
+in another world, before the Judge of all.               (_Exit_.)
+
+    PRINCE (_after a pause, during which he surveys the body with a
+           look of horror and despair, turns to_ Marinelli).
+
+Here! Raise her. How! Dost thou hesitate? Wretch! Villain! (_Tears the
+dagger from his grasp_.) No. Thy blood shall not be mixed with such as
+this. Go: hide thyself for ever. Begone, I say. Oh God! Oh God! Is it
+not enough for the misery of many that monarchs are men? Must devils in
+disguise become their friends?
+
+
+
+
+
+                            NATHAN THE WISE.
+
+                     A DRAMATIC POEM IN FIVE ACTS.
+
+                  (_Translated by R. Dillon Boylan_.)
+
+The well-known Goetze Controversy is to be thanked for the appearance
+of this, the longest, and in many respects the most important of
+Lessing's dramatic works. It was written in 1778-9, in reply to some of
+the theological censures of the Hamburg pastor. In 1783, it was first
+acted at Berlin, but it met with little success there or elsewhere,
+until in 1801, when it was introduced on the Weimar stage, by Schiller
+and Goethe.
+
+
+
+
+                            DRAMATIS PERSONĈ
+
+      Sultan Saladin.
+      Sittah, _his Sister_.
+      Nathan, _a rich Jew of Jerusalem_.
+      Recha, _his adopted Daughter_.
+      Daja, _a Christian woman living in the Jew's house as_ Recha's
+        _companion_.
+      _A young_ Knight Templar.
+      A Dervise.
+      _The_ Patriarch of Jerusalem.
+      A Friar.
+      _An_ Emir _and several of_ Saladin's Mamelukes.
+
+                      _The scene is in Jerusalem_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                            NATHAN THE WISE.
+
+                "Introite, nam et heic Dii sunt."
+
+                                                   _Apud_ Gellium.
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT I.
+
+
+                 Scene I.--_A Hall in Nathan's House_.
+
+        Nathan, _returning from a journey_; Daja, _meeting him_.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis he! 'Tis Nathan! endless thanks to Heaven
+   That you at last are happily returned.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, Daja! thanks to Heaven! But why at _last_?
+   Was it my purpose--was it in my power
+   To come back sooner? Babylon from here,
+   As I was forced to take my devious way,
+   Is a long journey of two hundred leagues;
+   And gathering in one's debts is not--at best,
+   A task that expedites a traveller's steps.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   O Nathan! what a dire calamity
+   Had, in your absence, nigh befallen us!
+   Your house----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Took fire. I have already heard.
+   God grant I may have learnt the whole that chanced!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Chance saved it, or it had been burnt to ashes.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then, Daja! we had built another house,
+   And a far better----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   True--ay, true! but Recha
+   Was on the point of perishing amid
+   The flames----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       Of perishing? Who saidst thou? Recha?
+   I had not heard of that. I should not then
+   Have needed any house. What! on the point
+   Of perishing? Nay, nay; perchance she's dead--
+   Is burnt alive. Speak, speak the dreadful truth.
+   Kill me, but do not agonize me thus.
+   Tell me at once she's dead.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  And if she were
+   Could you expect to hear it from these lips?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why then alarm me? Recha! O my Recha!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Your Recha? Yours?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                And can it ever be
+   That I shall cease to call this child my own?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Is all you have yours by an equal title?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Nought by a better. What I else enjoy
+   Are Fortune's gifts, or Nature's. This alone--
+   This treasure do I owe to virtue.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                      Nathan!
+   How dearly must I pay for all your goodness!
+   If goodness practised for an end like yours
+   Deserves the name.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      An end like mine! What mean you?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   My conscience----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                Daja, let me tell you first----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I say my conscience----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Oh, the gorgeous robe
+   That I have bought for you in Babylon!
+   Costly it is and rare. For Recha's self
+   I have not bought a richer.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                 What of that?
+   My conscience can be silent now no more.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I long to witness your delight, to see
+   The bracelets, earrings, and the golden chain
+   Which I selected at Damascus for you.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis always so, you surfeit me with gifts.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Accept them freely, as they are bestowed,
+   And silence!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                  Silence! Yes. But who can doubt
+   That you are generosity itself?
+   And yet----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                I'm but a Jew! Daja, confess
+   That I have guessed your thought.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        You know my thoughts
+   Far better.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                   Well, be silent!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    I am dumb.
+   And henceforth all the evil that may spring
+   From this, which I cannot avert, nor change,
+   Fall on your head.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Let it all fall on me!
+   But where is Recha? What detains her thus?
+   Are you deceiving me? Can she have heard
+   That I am here?
+
+                                  DAJA.
+
+                     Yourself must answer that.
+   Terror still palpitates through every nerve,
+   And fancy mingles fire with all her thoughts.
+   In sleep her soul's awake; but when awake,
+   Is wrapt in slumber. Less than mortal now,
+   And now far more than angel, she appears.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Poor child! how frail a thing is human nature!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   She lay this morning with her eyelids closed--
+   One would have thought her dead--when suddenly
+   She started from her couch, and cried, "Hark, hark!
+   Here come my father's camels, and I hear
+   His own sweet voice again!" With that, her eyes
+   Once more she opened, and her arms' support
+   Withdrawn, her head droop'd softly on her pillow.
+   Quickly I hastened forth, and now behold,
+   I find you here. But marvel not at this.
+   Has not her every thought been long engrossed
+   With dreams of you and him?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Of him! What him?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Of him who from the flames preserved her life.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And who was he? Where is he? Name the man
+   Who saved my Recha?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                            A young Templar he!
+   Brought hither captive lately, and restored
+   To freedom by the Sultan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               How? A Templar?
+   A captive, too, and pardoned by the Sultan?
+   Could not my Recha's life have been preserved
+   By some less wondrous miracle? O God!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But for this stranger's help, who risked afresh
+   The life so unexpectedly restored,
+   Recha had surely perished.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  Where is he?
+   Where is this noble youth? Where is he, Daja?
+   Oh, lead me to his feet! But you already
+   Have surely lavished on him all the wealth
+   That I had left behind; have given him all--
+   And promised more, much more.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                      How could we, Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why not?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   He came we know not whence, he went
+   We know not whither. To the house a stranger,
+   And guided by his ear alone, he rushed
+   With fearless daring through the smoke and flame,
+   His mantle spread before him, till he reached
+   The spot whence issued piercing screams for help.
+   We thought him lost; when, bursting through the fire,
+   He stood before us, bearing in his arms
+   Her almost lifeless form. Unmoved and cold,
+   Deaf to our cries of thanks, he left his prize,
+   Passed through the wondering crowd, and disappeared.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But not for ever, Daja, I would hope.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   For some days after, 'neath yon spreading palms,
+   Which wave above our blest Redeemer's grave,
+   We saw him pacing thoughtful to and fro.
+   With transport I approached to speak my thanks.
+   I pleaded, begged, entreated that for once,
+   Once only, he would see the grateful maid,
+   Who longed to shed at her preserver's feet
+   Her tears of gratitude.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                Well?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          All in vain!
+
+   Deaf to my warmest prayers, he poured on me
+   Such bitter taunts----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  That you withdrew dismayed.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Far otherwise. I sought to meet him daily,
+   And daily heard his harsh insulting words.
+   Much have I borne, and would have borne still more;
+   But lately he has ceased his lonely walk
+   Beneath the spreading palms that shade the grave
+   Of Him who rose from death; and no man knows
+   Where he may now be found. You seem surprised.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I was considering how such a scene
+   Must work upon a mind like Recha's. Scorned
+   By one whom she can never cease to prize;
+   Repelled by one who still attracts her to him.
+   Her head and heart at strife! And long, full long
+   The contest may endure, without the power
+   To say if anger or regret shall triumph.
+   Should neither prove the victor, Fancy then
+   May mingle in the fray, and turn her brain.
+   Then Passion will assume fair Reason's garb,
+   And Reason act like Passion. Fatal change!
+   Such, doubtless, if I know my Recha well,
+   Must be her fate; her mind is now unhinged.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But her illusions are so sweet and holy.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But yet she raves!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              The thought she clings to most,
+   Is that the Templar was no earthly form,
+   But her blest guardian angel, such as she
+   From childhood fancied hovering o'er her path;
+   Who from his veiling cloud, amid the fire
+   Rushed to her aid in her preserver's form.
+   You smile incredulous. Who knows the truth?
+   Permit her to indulge the fond deceit,
+   Which Christian, Jew, and Mussulman alike
+   Agree to own. The illusion is so sweet!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I love it too. But go, good Daja! go,
+   See what she does--if I can speak with her.
+   This guardian angel, wilful and untamed,
+   I'll then seek out--and if he still is pleased
+   To sojourn here a while with us--or still
+   Is pleased to play the knight so boorishly,
+   I'll doubtless find him out and bring him here.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   You are too daring, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Trust me, Daja!
+   If fond delusion yield to sweeter truth--
+   For human beings ever to their kind
+   Are dearer after all than angels are--
+   You will not censure me, when you perceive
+   Our lov'd enthusiast's mind again restored.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   You are so good, and so discerning, Nathan!
+   But see, behold! Yes, here she comes herself.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                       Recha, Nathan, _and_ Daja.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   And is it you! your very self, my father?
+   I thought you had but sent your voice before you,
+   Where are you lingering still? What mountains, streams,
+   Or deserts now divide us? Here we are
+   Once more together, face to face, and yet
+   You do not hasten to embrace your Recha!
+   Poor Recha! she was almost burnt alive!
+   Yet she escaped----But do not, do not shudder.
+   It were a dreadful death to die by fire!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   My child! my darling child!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           Your journey lay
+   Across the Tigris, Jordan, and Euphrates,
+   And many other rivers. 'Till that fire
+   I trembled for your safety, but since then
+   Methinks it were a blessed, happy thing
+   To die by water. But you are not drowned,
+   Nor am I burnt alive. We will rejoice,
+   And thank our God, who bore you on the wings
+   Of unseen angels o'er the treacherous streams,
+   And bade my angel bear me visibly
+   On his white pinion through the raging flames.
+
+                           NATHAN (_aside_).
+
+   On his white pinion! Ha! I see; she means
+   The broad white fluttering mantle of the Templar.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Yes, visibly he bore me through the flames,
+   O'ershadowed by his wings. Thus, face to face,
+   I have beheld an angel--my own angel.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Recha were worthy of so blest a sight.
+   And would not see in him a fairer form
+   Than he would see in her.
+
+                           RECHA (_smiling_).
+
+                           Whom would you flatter--
+   The angel, dearest father, or yourself?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And yet methinks, dear Recha, if a man--
+   Just such a man as Nature daily fashions--
+   Had rendered you this service, he had been
+   A very angel to you.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                 But he was
+   No angel of that stamp, but true and real.
+   And have I not full often heard you say
+   'Tis possible that angels may exist?
+   And how God still works miracles for those
+   Who love Him? And I love Him dearly, father.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And He loves you; and 'tis for such as you
+   That He from all eternity has wrought
+   Such ceaseless wonders daily.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       How I love
+   To hear you thus discourse!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   Well, though it sound
+   A thing but natural and common-place
+   That you should by a Templar have been saved,
+   Is it the less a miracle for that?
+   The greatest of all miracles seems this:
+   That real wonders, genuine miracles,
+   Can seem and grow so commonplace to us.
+   Without this universal miracle,
+   Those others would scarce strike a thinking man,
+   Awaking wonder but in children's minds,
+   Who love to stare at strange, unusual things,
+   And hunt for novelty.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                Why will you thus
+   With airy subtleties perplex her mind,
+   Already overheated?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Silence, Daja!
+   And was it then no miracle that Recha
+   Should be indebted for her life to one
+   Whom no small miracle preserved himself?
+   Who ever heard before, that Saladin
+   Pardoned a Templar? that a Templar asked it--
+   Hoped it--or for his ransom offered more
+   Than his own sword--belt, or at most his dagger?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   That argues for me, father! All this proves
+   That my preserver was no Templar knight,
+   But only seemed so. If no captive Templar
+   Has e'er come hither but to meet his death,
+   And through Jerus'lem cannot wander free,
+   How could I find one, in the night, to save me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Ingenious, truly! Daja, you must speak.
+   Doubtless, you know still more about this knight;
+   For 'twas from you I learnt he was a prisoner.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis but report indeed, but it is said
+   That Saladin gave freedom to the knight,
+   Moved by the likeness which his features bore
+   To a lost brother whom he dearly loved,
+   Though since his disappearance twenty years
+   Have now elapsed. He fell I know not where,
+   And e'en his very name's a mystery.
+   But the whole tale sounds so incredible,
+   It may be mere invention, pure romance.
+
+                                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;
+   God 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.
+
+   Without advice, or hope, or sympathy,
+   May lie a prey to agony and death.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Where, where?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  And yet for one he never knew--
+   Enough for him it was a human being--
+   He plunged amid the flames and----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          Spare her, Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He sought no more to know the being whom
+   He rescued thus--he shunned her very thanks----
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh, spare her!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          Did not wish to see her more,
+   Unless to save her for the second time--
+   Enough for him that she was human!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                      Hold!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He may have nothing to console him dying,
+   Save the remembrance of his deed.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          You kill her!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And you kill him, or might have done at least.
+   'Tis med'cine that I give, not poison, Recha!
+   But be of better cheer: he lives--perhaps
+   He is not ill.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                  Indeed? not dead--not ill?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Assuredly not dead--for God rewards
+   Good deeds done here below--rewards them hero.
+   Then go, but ne'er forget how easier far
+   Devout enthusiasm is, than good deeds.
+   How soon our indolence contents itself
+   With pious raptures, ignorant, perhaps,
+   Of their ulterior end, that we may be
+   Exempted from the toil of doing good.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   O father! leave your child no more alone.--
+   But may he not have only gone a journey?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Perhaps. But who is yonder Mussulman,
+   Numbering with curious eye my laden camels?
+   Say, do you know him?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                               Surely your own Dervise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+            Your Dervise--your old chess companion.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Al-Hafi do you mean? What!--that Al-Hafi?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No other: now the Sultan's treasurer.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What, old Al-Hafi? Do you dream again?
+   And yet 'tis he himself--he's coming hither.
+   Quick, in with you! What am I now to hear?
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                       Nathan _and the_ Dervise.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Ay, lift your eyes and wonder.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                          Is it you?
+   A Dervise so magnificent!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                  Why not?
+   Can you make nothing of a Dervise, Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Ay, surely, but I've still been wont to think
+   A Dervise--I would say a thorough Dervise--
+   Will ne'er let anything be made of him.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Well, by the Prophet! though it may be true
+   That I'm no thorough Dervise, yet one must----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   _Must_, Hafi! You a Dervise! No man _must_----
+   And least of all a Dervise.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                     Nay, he must,
+   When he is much implored and deems it right.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well spoken, Hafi! Let us now embrace.
+   You're still, I trust, my friend.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                          Why not ask first
+   What has been made of me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     I take my chance,
+   In spite of all that has been made of you.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   May I not be a servant of the state
+   Whose friendship is no longer good for you?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you but still possess your Dervise heart
+   I'll run the risk of that. The stately robe
+   Is but your cloak.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                             And yet it claims some honour.
+   But, tell me truly, at a court of yours
+   What had been Hafi's rank?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    A Dervise only--
+   Or, if aught else--perhaps my cook.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                             Why yes!
+   That I might thus unlearn my native trade,
+   Your cook! why not your butler? But the Sultan--
+   He knows me better--I'm his treasurer.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What, you?--his treasurer?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                     Mistake me not,
+   I only bear his lesser purse; his father
+   Still manages the greater, and I am
+   The treasurer of his house.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    His house is large!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Far larger than you think--all needy men
+   Are of his house.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Yet Saladin is such
+   A foe to beggars!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                            That he'd root them out,
+   Though he turned beggar in the enterprise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Bravo! I meant as much.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                  He's one already.
+   His treasury at sunset every day
+   Is worse than empty; and although the tide
+   Flowed high at morn, 'tis ebb before the noon.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Because it flows through channels such as we
+   Can neither stop nor fill.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                  You hit the truth.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I know it well.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                          Ah! 'tis an evil case
+   When kings are vultures amid carcases,
+   But ten times worse when they're the carcases
+   Amid the vultures.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Dervise, 'tis not so.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Is that your thought? But, come, what will you give
+   If I resign my office in your favour?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What are your profits?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                               Mine? not much; but you
+   Would soon grow rich; for when, as oft occurs,
+   The Sultan's treasury is at an ebb,
+   You might unlock your sluices, pour in gold,
+   And take in form of interest what you please.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And interest on the interest of the interest.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Of course.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       Until my capital becomes
+   All interest.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                     Well! is not the offer tempting?
+   Farewell for ever to our friendship then,
+   For I had counted on you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  How so, Hafi?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   I thought you would have helped me to discharge
+   My task with credit; that I should have found
+   Your treasury ready. Ha! you shake your head.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Let us explain. We must distinguish here.
+   To you, Dervise Al-Hafi, all I have
+   Is welcome; but to you, the Defterdar
+   Of Saladin--to that Al-Hafi, who----
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   I guessed as much. You ever are as good
+   As you are wise and prudent. Only wait.
+   The two Al-Hafis you distinguish thus
+   Will soon be parted. See, this robe of honour,
+   Which Saladin bestowed, before 'tis worn
+   To rags, and suited to a Dervise back,
+   Will in Jerusalem hang from a nail;
+   Whilst I, upon the Ganges' scorching strand,
+   Barefoot amid my teachers will be found.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   That's like yourself!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                             Or playing chess with them.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Your greatest bliss!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                               What do you think seduced me?
+   Hopes of escaping future penury,
+   The pride of acting the rich man to beggars,
+   Would this have metamorphosed all at once
+   The richest beggar to a poor rich man?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+        But I yielded to a sillier whim.
+   For the first time I felt myself allured
+   By Saladin's kind-hearted, flattering words.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And what were they?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                 He said a beggar's wants
+   Are known but to the poor alone; that they
+   Alone can tell how want should be relieved.
+   "Thy predecessor was too cold," he said,
+   "Too harsh, and when he gave, 'twas with a frown.
+   He searched each case too strictly, not content
+   To find out want, he would explore the cause,
+   And thus he measured out his niggard alms.
+   Not so wilt thou bestow, and Saladin
+   Will not appear so harshly kind in thee.
+   Thou art not like that choked-up conduit-pipe,
+   Whence in unequal streams the water flows,
+   Which it receives in pure and copious stores.
+   Al-Hafi thinks, Al-Hafi feels like me."
+   The fowler whistled, and at last the quail
+   Ran to his net. Cheated, and by a cheat?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Hush, Dervise, hush!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                               What! is it not a cheat
+   To grind mankind by hundred thousands thus!
+   Oppress them, plunder, butcher, and torment,
+   And singly play the philanthropic part?
+   Not cheating, to pretend to imitate
+   That heavenly bounty, which in even course
+   Descends alike on desert and on plain,
+   On good and bad, in sunshine and in shower,
+   And not possess the never empty hand
+   Of the Most High! Not cheating----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                                Dervise, cease!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Nay, let me speak of cheating of my own,
+   How now? Were it not cheating to seek out
+   The bright side of impostures such as these,
+   That under colour of this brighter side
+   I might take part in them? What say you now?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Fly to your desert quickly. Amongst men
+   I fear you'll soon unlearn to be a man.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   I fear so too. Farewell!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 What, so abrupt?
+   Stay, stay, Al-Hafi! Has the desert wings?
+   It will not fly away. Here, stay, Al-Hafi!
+   He's gone; he's gone. I would that I had asked
+   About that Templar; he must know the man.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                      Daja (_rushing in_), Nathan.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   O Nathan, Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Well! what now?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                                He's there.
+   He shows himself once more.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Who, Daja--who?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   He--he!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+            Where cannot he be found? But _he_
+   You mean, is, I suppose, the only _He_.
+   That should not be, were he an angel's self.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Beneath the palms he wanders up and down,
+   And gathers dates.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             And eats them, I suppose,
+   Just as a Templar would.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              You mock me, sir!
+   Her eager eye espied him long ago,
+   When scarcely seen amid the distant trees.
+   She watches him intently, and implores
+   That you will go to him without delay.
+   Then go, and from the window she will mark
+   Which way his paces tend. Go, go; make haste!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What! thus, as I alighted from my camel?
+   Would that be seemly? But do you accost him;
+   Tell him of my return. I do not doubt
+   You'll find the honest man forbore our house
+   Because the host was absent. He'll accept
+   A father's invitation. Say I ask him,
+   I heartily request him.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                             All in vain!
+   In short, he will not visit any Jew.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then use your best endeavours to detain him,
+   Or, with unerring eye, observe his steps,
+   And mark him well. Go, I shall not be long.
+
+                     (Nathan _enters the house_. Daja _retires_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+_A Place of Palms. The_ Templar, _walking to and fro; a_ Friar,
+_following him at some distance, as if desirous of addressing him_.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   It cannot be for pastime that this man
+   Follows me thus. See how he eyes my hands!
+   Good brother--or, perhaps I should say, father!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   No, brother; a lay brother, at your service.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well, brother, then, if I had anything--
+   But truly I have nothing----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    Thanks the same!
+   God will reward your purpose thousandfold.
+   The will and not the deed perfects the giver.
+   Nor was I sent to follow you for alms.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Sent?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+            From the convent.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   Where I even now
+   Was hoping to partake a pilgrim's fare.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   'Tis meal--time now, the tables all are full;
+   But if it please you, we will turn together.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   No matter, though I have not tasted meat
+   For many days; these dates, you see, are ripe.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Be sparing of that fruit, sir, for too much
+   Is hurtful, sours the blood, and makes one sad.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And what if sadness suits me? Though, methinks,
+   'Twas not to give this warning that you came.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Oh, no! my mission was to question you--
+   To feel your pulse a little.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   And you tell
+   This tale yourself?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Why not?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 An artful soul! (_aside_).
+   And has the convent many more like you?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I know not. Mere obedience is my duty.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And you obey without much questioning.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Could it be rightly termed obedience else?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The simple mind is ever in the right.--(_aside_).
+   But will you not inform me who it is
+   That wishes to know more of me? Not you,
+   I dare be sworn.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Would such a wish become
+   Or profit me?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Whom would it then become
+   Or profit to be thus inquisitive?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Perhaps the Patriarch--'twas he that sent.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The Patriarch? and does he know my badge
+   So ill?--The red cross on the snow-white robe.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Why? I know that.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  Well, brother, hear me out.
+   I am a Templar--and a prisoner now.
+   Made captive with some others at Tebnin,
+   Whose fortress we had almost ta'en by storm
+   Just as the truce expired. Our hopes had been
+   To threaten Sidon next. Of twenty knights
+   Made prisoners there together, I alone
+   Was pardoned by command of Saladin.
+   The Patriarch now knows what he requires,
+   And more than he requires.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                     And yet no more
+   Than he had learned already. He would ask
+   Why you, of all the captives doomed to die,
+   Alone were spared?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Can I myself tell that?
+   Already with bare neck I had knelt down
+   Upon my mantle, to await the stroke,
+   When Saladin with steadfast eye surveys me.
+   Nearer he draws--he makes a sign--they raise me--
+   I am unbound--I would express my thanks--
+   I mark the tear-drop glisten in his eye--
+   We both stand mute--he turns and leaves the spot--
+   I stay. And now, how all this hangs together,
+   The Patriarch must explain.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                     The Patriarch thinks
+   That Heaven preserved you for some mighty deed.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Some mighty deed? To rescue from the flames
+   A Jewish maid! To lead to Sinai's mount
+   Bands of inquiring pilgrims--and the like!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The time may come for more important tasks:
+   Perhaps the Patriarch has already planned
+   Some mighty business for you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Think you so?
+   Has he already given you a hint?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Yes--but my task is first to sift a little,
+   To see if you are one to undertake----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well--sift away? (We'll see how this man sifts).
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The better course will be to name at once
+   What is the Patriarch's desire.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                          It is----?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   To make you bearer of a letter.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Me?
+   I am no carrier. Is that the office
+   More meritorious than to save from death
+   A Jewish maid?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                    So, truly, it would seem.
+   The Patriarch says that this little note
+   Involves the general weal of Christendom,
+   And that to bear it to its destined hand,
+   Safely, will merit a peculiar crown
+   From Heaven--and of that crown, the Patriarch
+   Says none can worthier be than you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Than I!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   You have your liberty--can look around;
+   You understand how cities may be stormed,
+   And how defended, says the Patriarch;
+   You know the strength and weakness of the towers,
+   And of the inner rampart lately reared
+   By Saladin, and you could point out all
+   To the Lord's champions fully.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                      May I know
+   Exactly the contents of this same letter?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Of that I am not quite informed myself.
+   'Tis to King Philip; and our Patriarch--
+   I often wonder how that holy man,
+   Whose every thought would seem absorbed by Heaven,
+   Can stoop to earthly things, and how his mind
+   Can be so deeply skilled in human lore----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well, then, your Patriarch----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                          Exactly knows
+   From secret sources, how, and with what force,
+   And in what quarter, should the war break out,
+   The foe and Saladin will take the field.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Knows he so much?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Ay, truly! and he longs
+   To send the urgent tidings to King Philip,
+   That he may better calculate if now
+   The danger be so great, as to demand
+   At every hazard that he should renew
+   The truce so boldly broken by the Templars.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The noble Patriarch! He seeks in me
+   No common herald, but the meanest spy.
+   Therefore, good brother, tell your Patriarch,
+   That I am not--as far as you can sift--
+   The man to suit his ends. I hold myself
+   A captive still. I know a Templar's duty:
+   Ready to die, not live to play the spy.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I thought as much. Nor can I censure you
+   For your resolve. The best has still to come.
+   Our Patriarch has learnt the very fort,
+   Its name, its strength, its site on Lebanon,
+   Wherein those countless treasures are concealed,
+   Wherewith the Sultan's prudent father pays
+   His troops, and all the heavy costs of war.
+   He knows that Saladin, from time to time,
+   Visits this fortress, by some secret way,
+   With but a few attendants.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Well! what then?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   'Twould be an easy task, methinks, to seize
+   The Sultan thus defenceless--and to end him.
+   You shudder, knight! Two monks who fear the Lord,
+   Are ready now to undertake the task,
+   And wait a leader.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           And the Patriarch
+   Has pitched on me to do this noble deed?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   He thinks King Philip might from Ptolemais
+   Give aid in the design.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           Has pitched on me!
+   On me!--Say, brother, have you never heard
+   The boundless debt I owe to Saladin?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Truly I have.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        And yet----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                          The Patriarch
+   Says that is very well; but yet your order,
+   And vows to God----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Change nothing; they command
+   No villainy.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+               No. But the Patriarch
+   Says what seems villainy to human eyes,
+   May not appear so in the sight of God.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Brother, I owe my life to Saladin,
+   And his shall my hand take?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    Oh, no!--But yet
+   The Patriarch maintains that Saladin,
+   Who is the common foe of Christendom,
+   Can never have a claim to be your friend.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   My friend? forsooth! because I will not be
+   A thankless wretch to him!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    'Tis so!--But yet
+   The Patriarch thinks gratitude is not
+   Before the eyes of God or man, a debt,
+   Unless, for our own sakes, some benefit
+   Has been conferred; and, says the Patriarch,
+   It is affirmed the Sultan spared your life
+   Merely because your voice, your look, your air,
+   Awoke a recollection of his brother----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   He knows all this, and yet?----Ah, were it true!
+   And, Saladin, could Nature form in me
+   A single feature in thy brother's likeness,
+   With nothing in my soul to answer it?
+   Or what does correspond, shall I belie
+   To please a Patriarch? No, surely Nature
+   Could never lie so basely! Nor, kind God,
+   Couldst thou so contradict Thyself! Go, brother,
+   And do not rouse my anger.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                         I withdraw
+   More gladly than I came. And, pardon me:
+   A monk's first duty, sir, is to obey.
+
+
+                  Scene VI.--_The_ Templar _and_ Daja.
+
+      (_She has been watching him from afar and now approaches_.)
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Methinks the monk left him in no good mood,
+   But, spite of that, I must my errand risk.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   This hits exactly. As the proverb goes,
+   Women and monks are ever Satan's tools,
+   And I to-day am subject to them both.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Whom do I see? Thank God, our noble knight.
+   Where have you been so long? Not ill, I hope?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   No.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+      In good health?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             Yes.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   We have all been grieved
+   Lest something should have ailed you. Have you been
+   Upon a journey?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Fairly guessed.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          Since when
+   Have you returned to us?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  Since yesterday.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Our Recha's father, too, is just returned,
+   And now may Recha hope at last.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                         For what?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   For what she has so often asked in vain.
+   Her father pressingly invites you too.
+   He lately has arrived from Babylon
+   With twenty camels, bearing precious stones,
+   And stuffs and fragrant spices, which he sought
+   In India, Persia, Syria, and China.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I am no merchant.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                        He is much esteemed
+   By all his nation--honoured as a prince--
+   And yet to hear how he is named by all
+   Nathan _the Wise_, and not _the Rich_, seems strange.
+   It often makes me wonder.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  But to them
+   It may be, _wise_ and rich--both mean the same.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   It seems to me he should be called _the Good_,
+   So rich a store of goodness dwells in him.
+   Since he has learned the weighty debt he owes
+   For service done to Recha there is nought
+   He would withhold from you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Well?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                                Try him, sir!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What then? A moment passes soon away.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I had not dwelt with him so many years
+   Were he less kind. I know a Christian's worth,
+   And it was never o'er my cradle sung
+   That I to Palestine should wend my way,
+   Following a husband's steps, to educate
+   A Jewish maid. My husband was a page,
+   A noble page, in Emperor Frederick's court----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   By birth a Swiss, who earned the sorry fame
+   Of drowning in one river with his lord.
+   Woman! how often have you told this tale?
+   When will you cease to persecute me thus?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   To persecute you!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                    Ay, to persecute!
+   Now mark me. I will never see you more,
+   Hear you, nor be reminded of a deed
+   Performed at random. When I think of it,
+   I wonder somewhat, though I ne'er repent.
+   But hear me still. Should such a fatal chance
+   Again occur, you have yourself to blame
+   If I proceed more calmly, question first.
+   And let what's burning, burn.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    Great God forbid!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And now I have a favour to implore.
+   Know me henceforth no more. Grant me this grace,
+   And save me from her father; for with me
+   A Jew's a Jew; a Swabian blunt am I.
+   The image of the maid is now erased
+   Out of my soul--if it was ever there.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But yours remains with her.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                     Well, and what then?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Who knows? Men are not always what they seem.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   They're seldom better.                         (_Going_.)
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              Stay a little while.
+   What need of haste?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              Woman! forbear to make
+   These palm--trees odious: I have loved their shade.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Then go, thou German bear! Yet I must follow him.
+                            (_She follow him at a distance_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT II.
+
+
+                    Scene I.--_The Sultan's Palace_.
+
+                Saladin and Sittah (_playing at chess_).
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Where are your thoughts? How ill you play, dear brother!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Not well in truth--and yet I thought----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                           Oh, yes!
+   You're playing well for me; take back that move.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Why?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+            Don't you see you leave your knight exposed?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ay, true!--then so.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                        And now I take your pawn.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   That's true again, dear Sittah! Well, then, check!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   That will not help you--I protect my king,
+   And all is safe again.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Well, out of this
+   Dilemma 'tis not easy to escape.
+   I cannot save the knight.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 I pass him by;
+   I will not take him.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        Well, I owe you nothing;
+   The place you gain is better than the piece.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Perhaps.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+              But reckon not without your host;
+   You did not see that move.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                Not I, indeed;
+   I did not think you weary of your queen.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   My queen!
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                Well, well! I see that I to-day
+   Shall win my thousand dinars and no more.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+  Why so?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                Why so? Because designedly
+   You lose the game! You vex me, Saladin!
+   I find no pleasure in a game like this.
+   And even when I lose, I come off well;
+   For, to console me for the games you win,
+   You force me to accept a double stake.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   In that case, then, it may be by design
+   That you have sometimes lost. Is that the truth?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   At least your generosity's to blame
+   That I improve so little in my play.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   But we forget the game; come, finish it.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well, 'tis my move; now, check to king and queen!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Indeed! I did not see the double check.
+   I lose my queen.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                     Let's see! Can it be helped?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   No, take the queen--I have no luck with her.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Only with her?
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                    Remove her from the board,
+   I shall not miss her. Now I am right again.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   I know from lessons which yourself have taught
+   How courteously we should behave to queens.
+                           (_Offering to restore the piece_.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Take her or not, I shall not move her more.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Why need I take her? Check, and check!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                                Go on.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Check, check, and check again!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                         'Tis checkmate now.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Hold!--no, not yet. You may advance the knight,
+   And ward the danger. But 'twill be the same.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.
+   Let him be called, Sittah! You were not wrong.
+   My thoughts were wandering--were not in the game,
+   But who gives us so oft these shapeless bits
+   Of wood? which speak of naught--suggest no thought.
+   Was it with Iman that I've played--Well, well,
+   Ill-luck is ever wont to seek excuse.
+   Not the unmeaning squares or shapeless men
+   Have made me heedless; your dexterity,
+   Your calm, sharp eye, dear Sittah!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                           What of that?
+   Is that to blunt the sting of your defeat?
+   Enough--your thoughts were wandering more than mine.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Than yours? What subject could engage your thoughts?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Far different cares than those which trouble you.
+   But, Saladin, say, when shall we again
+   Resume this pleasant pastime?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Dearest Sittah,
+   This interruption will but whet our zeal.
+   Your thoughts are on the war: well, let it come--
+   'Twas not my arm that first unsheathed the sword;
+   I would have willingly prolonged the truce,
+   And willingly have knit a tender bond,
+   For Sittah's sake, with Richard's noble brother.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   How pleased you are, can you but praise your Richard.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   If Richard's sister had but been bestowed
+   Upon our brother Melek, what a house
+   Had then been ours! the best, the happiest
+   The earth could boast. You know I am not slow
+   To praise myself: I'm worthy of my friends.
+   What men these unions would have given us!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Did I not smile at once at your fine dreams?
+   You do not, will not, know the Christian race.
+   It is their pride not to be men, but Christians.
+   The virtue which their founder felt and taught,
+   The charity He mingled with their creed,
+   Is valued, not because it is humane,
+   And good, and lovely, but for this alone,
+   That it was Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.
+   'Tis well for them He was so good a man,
+   Well that they take His goodness all on trust,
+   And in His virtues put their faith. His virtues!
+   'Tis not His virtues, but His name alone
+   They wish to thrust upon us--His mere name,
+   Which they desire should overspread the world,
+   Should swallow up the name of all good men,
+   And put the rest to shame. 'Tis for His name
+   Alone they care.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                    Else, Sittah, as you say,
+   They would not have required that you and Melek
+   Should be called Christians, ere they suffered you
+   To feel for Christians the pure flame of love.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   As if from Christians, and from them alone,
+   That love can be expected, which the hand
+   Of our Creator gives to man and wife.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Christians believe such vain absurdities,
+   That this may be among them. And yet, Sittah,
+   The Templars, not the Christians, are in this
+   To blame. 'Tis they alone who thwart my plans;
+   'Tis they who still hold Acca, pledged to us
+   By treaty as the dower of Richard's sister.
+   And, to maintain their order's interests,
+   They use this cant--the nonsense of the monk.
+   Scarce would they wait until the truce expired
+   To fall upon us. But, go on, good sirs!
+   Would that all else may thrive as well as this!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Why, what else troubles you? What other care
+   Have you to struggle with?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                That constant grief--
+   I've been to Lebanon, and seen our father.
+   He's full of care.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                     Alas!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              He must give way.
+   Straitened on every side, no aid, no help,
+   Nothing comes in.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                        What ails him, Saladin?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   The only thing that I am loth to name,
+   Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems,
+   And, when I have it not, so necessary.
+   Where is Al-Hafi? Have they gone for him?
+   Will no one go? Oh, fatal, cursed money!
+   Welcome, Al-Hafi! You are come at last.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+             _The_ Dervise Al-Hafi, Saladin, _and_ Sittah.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   The gold from Egypt, I suppose, is come.
+   Say, is it much?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     What! have you heard of it?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Not I. I thought I should receive it here.
+
+              SALADIN (_pacing thoughtfully to and fro_).
+
+   Sittah has won a thousand dinars, pay them.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Pay without getting. That is worse than nothing!
+   And still to Sittah--once again for chess!
+   But let us see the board; how stands the game?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   You grudge me my good fortune?
+
+                    AL-HAFI (_examining the board_).
+
+                         Grudge you? When--
+   You know too well----
+
+                    SITTAH (_making signs to him_).
+
+                        Oh, hush! Al-Hafi, hush!
+
+                 AL-HAFI (_still examining the board_).
+
+   Don't grudge it to yourself.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                         Al-Hafi, hush!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   And were the white men yours?
+                                         You gave the check?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   'Tis well he does not hear.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                    The move is his.
+
+                     SITTAH (_approaching nearer_).
+
+   Then promise me that I shall have the money.
+
+                AL-HAFI (_still intent upon the board_).
+
+   You shall receive it as you've always done.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   How! are you mad?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                          The game's not over yet.
+   You have not lost it, Saladin.
+
+                    SALADIN (_paying no attention_).
+
+                                      Oh, yes;
+   Pay down the money.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                              Pay! here stands the queen.
+
+                      SALADIN (_still heedless_).
+
+   She's of no use; she's lost.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                               Do say that I
+   May send and fetch the gold.
+
+                  AL-HAFI (_still studying the game_).
+
+                                   Oh, yes! of course.
+   But though the queen be lost, you are not mate.
+
+                  SALADIN (_dashing down the board_).
+
+   I say I am. I will be mate.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                  If so,
+   Small pains, small gains, say I. So got, so spent.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What is he muttering there?
+
+      SITTAH (_to_ Saladin, _making a sign meanwhile to_ Al-Hafi).
+
+                                   You know him well.
+   He likes entreaties--loves to be implored.
+   Who knows if he be not a little jealous?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well, not of thee--not of my sister, surely.
+   What do I hear? Al-Hafi, are you jealous?
+
+                                 AL-HAFI.
+
+   Perhaps I am. I wish I had her head,
+   Or that I were as good as she.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                  My brother,
+   He always pays me fairly, and to-day
+   He'll do the same. Let him alone. Now go!
+   Al-Hafi! go! I'll have the money----
+
+                                 AL-HAFI.
+
+                                      No, not I.
+   I'll act this farce no more. He must know soon.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Who? what?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                  Al-Hafi! say, is this your promise?
+   Is't thus you keep your word?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                    Could I foresee
+   That it would come to this?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Well, tell me all.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Al-Hafi! I implore you, be discreet.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   'Tis very strange; and what can Sittah have
+   So earnestly to sue for, from a stranger--
+   A Dervise--rather than from me, her brother?
+   Al-Hafi, I command you. Dervise, speak.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Let not a trifle touch my brother nearer
+   Than is becoming, for you know that I
+   Have often won as much from you at chess.
+   But as I stand in little need of gold,
+   I've left the money in Al-Hafi's chest,
+   Which is not over full; but never fear,
+   It is not my intention to bestow
+   My wealth on either of you.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                   Were this all!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Some more such trifles are perhaps unclaimed:
+   My own allowance, which you set apart
+   Has lain some months untouched.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                    Nor is this all.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Then tell the whole.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                          Whilst we've been waiting for
+   The gold from Egypt, she----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                    Nay, hear him not.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Not only has had nothing,----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Dearest sister I--
+   But also has been lending it to you?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Ay! at her sole expense maintained your state.
+
+                       SALADIN (_embracing her_).
+
+   So like my sister!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                      Who but you, my brother,
+   Could make me rich enough to have the power?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   And soon he'll make her once again as poor
+   As he is now.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                I poor! her brother poor!
+   When had I more--when had I less than now?
+   A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and my God!
+   What need I else? and these ne'er can I lack.
+   And yet, Al-Hafi, I could scold you now.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Nay, brother, do not scold. I would that I
+   Could thus also relieve our father's cares!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ah! now my joy has vanished all at once.
+   We can want nothing; but he's destitute.
+   And whilst he wants, we all are poor indeed.
+   What shall I do? From Egypt we can hope
+   For nothing--though God only knows the cause.
+   'Tis general peace around, and as for me,
+   I could live sparingly, reduce, retrench,
+   If none else suffered; but 'twould not avail.
+   A cloak, a horse, a sword I ne'er can want.
+   As to my God, He is not to be bought.
+   He asks but little, only asks my heart.
+   I had relied, Al-Hafi, on your chest,
+   Upon the surplus there.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                             A surplus there!
+   Say, should I not have been impaled or hanged,
+   If I had been detected hoarding up
+   A surplus? Deficits I might have ventured.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well, but what next? Could you have found out none
+   To borrow from, but Sittah?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 And would I
+   Have borne it, had another been preferred?
+   I claim that privilege. I am not yet
+   Quite beggared.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                   No, not quite. Dear Sittah, this
+   Alone was wanting. But, Al-Hafi, go,
+   Inquire about, take where and what you can;
+   Borrow on promise, contract, anyhow;
+   But, mark me, not from those I have enriched.
+   'Twould seem as if I wished to have it back.
+   Go to the covetous. They gladliest lend.
+   They know how well their money thrives with me.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   I know of none.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                      I recollect just now,
+   I heard, Al-Hafi, of your friend's return.
+
+                         AL-HAFI (_starting_).
+
+   Friend! friend of mine! and who can that be, pray?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Your boasted Jew.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                      A Jew! and praised by me!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   On whom his God--I think I recollect
+   The very words you used, as touching him--
+   On whom his God, of all the choicest goods
+   Of earth, in full abundance, has bestowed
+   The greatest and the least.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                What could I mean
+
+   When I said so?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                     The least of good things--wealth.
+   The greatest--wisdom!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                             How! and of a Jew
+   Did I say that?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                    Ay, that you did--of Nathan.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Oh, true! of Nathan--yes! He did not now
+   Occur to me. But he's returned at last,
+   Then do not doubt that he's well off. He's called
+   The Wise, the Rich, by all the Jewish folk.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Now more than ever is he named the Rich.
+   The town resounds with news of costly stuffs
+   And priceless treasures he has brought with him.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Is he the Rich once more? Then, do not fear,
+   He'll be the Wise again.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                           What think you? Will
+   You visit him, Al-Hafi?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                          What, to borrow?
+   You know him, surely! Think you he will lend?
+   His very wisdom lies in this--that he
+   Will lend to no one.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                          Formerly you gave
+   A picture very different of him.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   In case of need he'll lend you merchandise;
+   But money--money--never! He's a Jew,
+   Who has not many equals 'mongst his tribe.
+   He's wise, knows how to live, can play at chess;
+   Excels in evil, too, as well as good.
+   Rely not on him. To the poor, indeed,
+   He vies with Saladin himself in gifts;
+   And if not quite so much, he gives as freely,
+   To Jew, and Christian, and Mahometan--
+   To all alike.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                And such a man as this----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   How comes it, then, I never heard of him?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Can he refuse to lend to Saladin,
+   Who wants for others--never for himself.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Ay, there peeps out the Jew--the vulgar Jew:
+   Believe me, he is jealous, envious
+   Of generosity. It seems as though
+   To earn God's favour were his special mission.
+   And that he may possess wherewith to give,
+   He never lends. The law he serves, commands
+   That he show mercy, but not complaisance.
+   Thus him has mercy made the rudest churl
+   In all the world. 'Tis true I have not been
+   This long time past on friendly terms with him,
+   But do not think that I would do him wrong,
+   He's good in all things else, but not in that;
+   Therefore I'll go and knock at other doors.
+   I recollect this instant an old Moor,
+   Who's rich and covetous: I'll go to him. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Why in such haste, Al-Hafi?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Let him go.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                            Sittah, Saladin.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   He speeds away, as though he would escape.
+   Why so? Is he indeed himself deceived,
+   Or would he now mislead me?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Can I guess?
+   I scarcely know the man of whom you speak,
+   And, for the first time, hear to-day of him.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Can it be possible you know him not
+   Who, it is said, has visited the
+   Of Solomon and David; knows the spell
+   To ope their marble lids, and thence obtain
+   The boundless stores that claim no lesser source.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Were this man's wealth by miracle procured,
+   'Tis not at Solomon's or David's tomb
+   That it is found. Mere mortal fools lie there.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Or knaves!--But still his source of opulence
+   Is more productive, more exhaustless than
+   A cave of Mammon.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  For he trades, I'm told.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   His caravans through every desert toil,
+   His laden camels throng the public roads,
+   His ships in every harbour furl their sails.
+   Al-Hafi long ago has told me this,
+   Adding, with pride, how Nathan gives away,
+   What he esteems it noble to have earned
+   By patient industry, for others' wants;
+   How free from bias is his lofty soul,
+   His heart to every virtue how unlocked,
+   To every lovely feeling how allied!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And yet Al-Hafi spoke with coldness of him.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Not coldness, but unwillingness, as if
+   He deemed it dangerous to praise too much,
+   Yet knew not how to blame without a cause.
+   Or can it be, in truth, that e'en the best
+   Amongst a tribe can never quite escape
+   The foibles of their race, and that, in fact,
+   Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan?
+   But come what may, let him be Jew or not,
+   If he be rich, that is enough for me.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You would not, sister, take his--wealth by force?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   By force? What mean you? Fire and sword? Oh, no!
+   What force is necessary with the weak
+   But their own weakness? Come awhile with me,
+   Into my harem. I have bought a songstress
+   You have not heard--she came but yesterday.
+   Meanwhile I'll think upon a subtle plan
+   For this same Nathan. Follow, Saladin!
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+_The Place of Palms, near_ Nathan's _house, from which_ Recha _and_
+Nathan _are coming_; Daja, _meeting them_.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Dear father! you have been so slow, that you
+   Will scarcely meet him now.
+
+                                 NATHAN.
+
+                            Well, well, my child;
+   If not beneath the palms, be sure that we
+   Shall meet him somewhere else. Be satisfied.
+   Is not that Daja whom I see approaching?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   She certainly has lost him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               Wherefore so?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Her pace were quicker else.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               She has not seen us.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   There, now she spies us.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              And her speed redoubles.
+   Recha, be calm!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        What! would you have your child
+   Be cold and unconcerned about his fate
+   To whom her life is due?--a life to her
+   But dear because she owed it first to you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I would not wish you other than you are,
+   E'en if I knew that in your secret soul
+   Another and a different feeling throbs.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   What means my father?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Do you ask of me--
+   So tremblingly of me? What passes now
+   Within your soul is innocence and nature.
+   Nay, fear not, for it gives me no alarm.
+   But promise, if the heart shall ever speak
+   A plainer language, you will not conceal
+   One single of your wishes from my love.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh, the bare thought that I should ever wish
+   To hide them from my father, makes me shudder.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Recha, enough of this. Now, what says Daja?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   He's still beneath the palms, and presently
+   He'll reach yon wall. See! here he comes at last.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   He seems irresolute which way to turn,
+   To left or right!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                     His custom is to seek
+   The convent walls, so he will pass this way.
+   What will you wager? Yes, he comes to us.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Right! Did you speak to him? How did he look?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   As usual.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+               Do not let him see you here.
+   Stand farther back, or to the house retire.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Just one look more. Ah! the trees hide him now.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Come, come away! Recha, your father's right.
+   Should he observe us he'll retire at once.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Alas! the trees----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Now he emerges from them.
+   He can't but see you. Hence! I beg of you.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Come, Recha, come! I know a window whence
+   We may observe him better.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                             Come, then, come.
+                                    (_They both retire_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+           Nathan (_who is presently joined by the_ Templar).
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I almost shrink from meeting this strange fellow--
+   Recoil from his rough virtue! That one man
+   Should ever make another feel confused!
+   But see, he comes! he seems a noble youth;
+   Looks like a man. I like his daring eye,
+   His honest gait. Although the shell is bitter,
+   The kernel may not be so. I have seen
+   One like him somewhere. Pardon, noble Frank----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What would you?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Pardon me----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               What would you, Jew?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The privilege of speaking to you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Well!
+   How can I help it? Quick, then--what's your wish?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Patience! nor pass with such contempt and pride
+   One who must be your debtor evermore.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   How so? I almost guess. No; are you then----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   My name is Nathan, father to the maid
+   Your generous courage rescued from the flames.
+   I come to----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+               If you come to render thanks,
+   Spare them. I have already been compelled
+   To bear too many thanks for this small act.
+   Besides, you owe me nothing. Could I know
+   The maiden was your daughter? I was bound--
+   It is a Templar's duty--to assist
+   All who need succour; and my life just then
+   Was a mere burden. It was a relief
+   To risk it for another, even though
+   The task were to preserve a Jewess' life.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Great--great yet horrible--I understand
+   The turn. The modest greatness will assume
+   The hideous mask to ward off gratitude.
+   But though he may disdain our proffer'd thanks,
+   Is there no other tribute we can pay?
+   Sir Knight! if you were not a stranger here,
+   And not a pris'ner, I were not so bold.
+   But, come, what service can I render you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You!--nothing.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                     I am rich.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              The richer Jew
+   Was ne'er in my esteem the better Jew.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Is that a reason why you should not use
+   The better part of him--his wealth?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                            Well, well,
+   I'll not refuse it wholly, for the sake
+   Of my poor mantle; when it is well worn,
+   And spite of darning will not hold together,
+   I'll come and borrow cloth or gold of you,
+   To make a new one. Nay, Sir, do not start;
+   The danger is not pressing--'tis not yet
+   Quite worthless; it is sound, and strong, and good.
+   Save in one corner, where an ugly spot
+   Is singed, and that is from a burn it got
+   When I bore off your daughter from the fire.
+
+                 NATHAN (_taking hold of the mantle_).
+
+   'Tis strange, indeed, that such a spot as this
+   Should bear far better witness to the man
+   Than his own lips. This spot! Oh, I could kiss it.
+   Your pardon, Sir, in truth, I meant it not!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+          'Twas a tear that fell.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Well, 'tis no matter.
+   'Tis not the first. (This Jew doth puzzle me.)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Would you but send this mantle to my daughter!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Why?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+           That she, too, may press it to her lips;
+   For at her benefactor's feet to fall
+   She now may hope in vain.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               But, Jew, your name?
+   Tis Nathan, is it not? You choose your words
+   With skill--I am confused. I did not think
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Feign, Templar, and dissemble as you may,
+   I see the truth. I see your generous heart,
+   Too honest and too good to be polite.
+   A grateful girl, all feeling, and her maid
+   Swift to obey--a father far from home,
+   You valued her fair fame, and would not see her.
+   You scorned to tempt lest you should victor prove.
+   For this too I must tender you my thanks.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You know at least how Templars _ought_ to feel.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why Templars only? and why ought to feel?
+   Is it because your rules and vows enjoin
+   These duties to _your order_? Sir, I know
+   How good men all should feel, and know as well
+   That every country can produce good men.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You'll make distinctions?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Yes, in colour, form,
+   And dress, perhaps.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Ay, and in number too--
+   Here more--there less.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            The difference is not much.
+   Great men, like trees, have ever need of room;
+   Too many set together only serve
+   To crush each other's boughs. The middling sort,
+   Like us, are found in numbers, they abound;
+   Only let not one scar and bruise the other,
+   Let not the gnarl be angry with the stump,
+   Let not the upper branch alone pretend
+   Not to have started from the common earth.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well said. And yet what nation was the first
+   To scatter discord 'mongst their fellow-men?
+   To claim the title of "the chosen people?"
+   How now if I were not to hate them, but
+   To scorn this upstart nation, for their pride?
+   That pride which it bequeathed to Mussulman
+   And Christian, as if God were theirs alone.
+   You start to hear a Christian and a Templar
+   Talk thus. But when and where has all this rage,
+   This pious rage, to win the better God,
+   And force this better God on all the world,
+   Shown itself more, or in a blacker form,
+   Than here, and now? Who here, who now retains
+   The blinding scales upon his eyes--and yet
+   Let him be blind who will!--forget my words,
+   And leave me (_is going_).
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                   Templar! you but little know
+   How closer henceforth I shall cling to you.
+   We must, we must be friends. Despise my people--
+   We did not choose a nation for ourselves.
+   Are we our nation's? What then is a nation?
+   Were Jews or Christians such, ere they were men?
+   Ah! would that I had found in you one man
+   To whom it were enough to be a man.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Thou hast so, Nathan! Yes, by Heaven, thou hast.
+   Thy hand. I blush to have mistaken thee.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Now I feel proud. 'Tis only common souls
+   In whom we seldom err.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           Uncommon ones
+   We do not oft forget. Nathan, we must,
+   We must be friends.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        We are so. And my Recha
+   Will now rejoice. How bright the prospect grows
+   That dawns upon me! If you did but know her.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I grow impatient, Nathan. But who now
+   Comes from your house? Methinks it is your Daja.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, and her look how full of care! God grant----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That nothing may have chanced to our Recha!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                          Daja (_rushing in_).
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Nathan, dear Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           Well.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  Forgive me, Knight,
+   That I must interrupt you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               What has happened?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   The Sultan sends for you--commands you straight
+   To speak with him. Protect us, Heaven! the Sultan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The Sultan sends for me! He would inspect
+   The goods--the precious wares that I have brought
+   From Persia. Say there's nothing yet unpacked.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No, no; 'tis not to look at anything;
+   He wants to speak to you in person, Nathan,
+   And orders you to come at once.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    I go.
+
+   Daja, return.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                Knight, take it not amiss.
+   We were alarmed for what the Sultan might
+   Require of Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      That I soon shall know. (_Exit Daja_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                         Nathan, _the_ Templar.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Are you then not acquainted with him yet?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who, Saladin? Not yet. I've neither shunned
+   Nor sought to see him. And the public voice
+   Proclaims his fame so loud, that I could wish
+   Rather to take its language upon trust,
+   Than sift the truth. And yet if it be true
+   That he has spared your life----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   Yes, so it is.
+   The life I live, he gave.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Then he bestows
+   A double, treble life on me. And thus
+   He flings a bond around me, which secures
+   My duty to his service; and henceforth
+   I burn to know his wishes. Now, for all
+   I am prepared; and further, will confess
+   'Tis for your sake alone that I am thus.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Often I've sought to meet him, but as yet
+   Have found no means to render him my thanks.
+   The impress which his mind received of me
+   Was transient, and ere now has disappeared.
+   Who knows if he may still remember me?
+   And yet once more at least he must recall
+   Me to his thoughts--to fix my future lot!
+   'Tis not enough that by his gracious will
+   I still have of life; I've yet to learn
+   According to whose will I have to live.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Therefore 'twere well I did not tarry now.
+   Perchance some happy word may give excuse
+   To speak of you. Now, pardon me, farewell!
+   I must away. When shall we meet again?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Whenever 'tis permitted.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 When you will.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   To-day, then.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  And your name?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                           My name was--is--
+   Conrad of Stauffen.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Conrad of Stauffen! Stauffen!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What is there in my name to wonder at?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   There are more races of that name, no doubt.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Yes, many of the name were here--rot here,
+   My uncle even--I should say my father.
+   But wherefore is your eye so fixed on me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I know not; but I love to look on you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Therefore I take my leave. The searching eye
+   Will oft discover more than it desires.
+   I fear it, Nathan; so, farewell. Let time,
+   Not curious prying, make us better known. (_Exit_.)
+
+            NATHAN (_looking after him with astonishment_).
+
+   "The searching eye will oft discover more
+   Than it desires." As if he read my soul!
+   That, too, may chance to be. 'Tis not alone
+   His walk, his stature, but his very voice!
+   Leonard so bore himself--was even wont
+   To carry thus his sword upon his arm,
+   And thus to shade his eyebrow with his hand,
+   As if to hide the fire that fill'd his look.
+   So deeply graven images may seem
+   At times to lie asleep within the soul,
+   When all at once a single word--a tone--
+   Calls them to life again. Of Stauffen--right--
+   Filnek and Stauffen--I will soon know more.
+   But first to Saladin. Ha! Daja here--
+   And on the watch! Come nearer, Daja, come.
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                             Daja, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well, both of you have something more at heart
+   Than to know what the Sultan wants with me.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   And you can hardly blame her for it, sir.
+   You were beginning to converse with him
+   More trustingly yourself, when suddenly
+   The Sultan's message drove us from the window.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Go tell her, Daja, she may soon expect
+   A visit from the Templar.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                               What! indeed!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I think I may rely upon you, Daja.
+   Be on your guard, I beg, you'll not repent it.
+   Your conscience shall at length be satisfied,
+   But do not mar my plans. Inquire, explain,
+   But with reserve, with fitting modesty.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No need for such advice. I go, I go.
+   And you must follow; for, see, Hafi comes--
+   The Sultan sends a second messenger.
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                            Nathan, Al-Hafi.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Ha! are you there? I have been seeking you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why in such haste? What can he want with me?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Who?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+          Saladin. But I am coming quickly.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   To whom? To Saladin?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          Has he not sent you?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Me? no--but has he sent already?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  Yes.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Then it is so.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        What's so?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                      That----I'm not guilty,
+   God knows, I'm not to blame; 'tis not my fault.
+   I've done my best--belied, and slandered you--
+   To save you from it.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Save me? and from what?
+   Be plain.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+               From being made his Defterdar.
+   I pity you--I cannot stay to see it.
+   I fly this hour--you know the road I take.
+   Speak, then, if I can serve you; but your wants
+   Must suit a wretch that's wholly destitute.
+   Quick, what's your pleasure?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               Recollect yourself--
+   Your words are mystery. I know of nothing.
+   What do you mean?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                     You'll take your money--bags?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   My money--bags!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                        Ay, bring your treasures forth--
+   The treasures you must shower on Saladin.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And is that all?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+              Ah! shall I witness it,
+   How, day by day, he'll scoop and pare you down,
+   Till nothing but a hollow, empty shell,
+   A husk as light as film, is left behind.
+   Nathan, you've yet to learn how spendthrift waste
+   From prudent bounty's never empty stores
+   Borrows and borrows, till there's not a crumb
+   Left to keep rats from starving. Do not think
+   That he who wants your gold will heed advice.
+   When has the Sultan listened to advice?
+   Hear what befel me with him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   Well--go on.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   He played just now at chess with Sittah. She
+   Is a keen player. I drew near and watched.
+   The game which Saladin supposed was lost,
+   Stood yet upon the board. He had given in,
+   I marked, and cried, "The game's not lost at all!"
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Oh! what a grand discovery for you.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   He needed only to remove his king
+   Behind the castle--and the check was saved.
+   Could I but show you----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           I believe it all!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Then with the castle free, he must have won.
+   I saw it, and I called him to the board.
+   What do you think he did?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  He doubted you.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Not only that--he would not hear a word--
+   And with contempt he overthrew the board.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+             He said he chose it--would be mate.
+   Is that to play the game?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Most surely not.
+   'Twas rather playing with the game.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                         And yet
+   The stakes were high.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          A trifle to the Sultan!
+   Money is nought to him. It is not that
+   Which galls, but not to hear Al-Hafi out--
+   Not to admire his comprehensive glance,
+   His eagle eye--'tis that demands revenge.
+   Say, am I right?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                   I only tell this tale
+   That you may know how much his head is worth.
+   But I am weary of him. All the day
+   I am running round to every wretched Moor
+   To borrow--money for him--I who ne'er
+   Ask for myself, am now obliged to sue
+   For others--and, according to my creed,
+   To borrow is to beg, as, when you lend
+   Your money upon usury, you steal.
+   Among my Ghebers on the Ganges' shores
+   I shall need neither; there I shall not be
+   The tool or pimp of any; there alone
+   Upon the Ganges honest men are found.
+   You, Nathan, you alone of all I see
+   Are worthy on the Ganges' banks to live.
+   Then come with me; leave him the wretched gold
+   That he would strip you of--'tis all he wants.
+   Little by little he will ruin you;
+   'Tis better to be quit of all at once;
+   Come, then, and I'll provide you with a staff.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Nay, that resource will still remain for us
+   As a last refuge. But I'll think of it.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Nay, ponder not upon a thing like this.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then stay till I have seen the Sultan. Stay
+   Till I have bid farewell.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                              The man who stays
+   To hunt for motives, to search reasons out,
+   Who cannot boldly and at once resolve
+   To live a free man's life, must be the slave
+   Of others till his death. But as you please.
+   Farewell! my path is here, and yours is there!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But stay, Al-Hafi! till you have arranged
+   The state accounts.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                        Pah! Nathan, there's no need;
+   The balance in the chest is quickly told,
+   And my account, Sittah, or you, will vouch.
+   Farewell!                                   (_Exit_.)
+
+                     NATHAN (_looking after him_).
+
+              Yes, I will vouch it, honest, wild--
+   How shall I call him? Ah! the real beggar
+   Is, after all, the only real king. (_Exit at opposite side_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT III.
+
+
+                Scene I.--_A room in_ Nathan's _house_.
+
+                              Recha, Daja.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Well, Daja, did my father really say
+   "That I might instantly expect him here?"
+   That surely meant that he would come at once,
+   And yet how many minutes have rolled by!
+   But I'll not dwell upon the moments gone,
+   I'll only live in those that are to come,
+   That one which brings him here must come in time.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But for the Sultan's ill-timed messenger
+   Nathan had brought him hither.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                    When he comes--
+   Oh! when this dearest of my inmost hopes
+   Shall be fulfilled--what then--what then?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                             What then?
+   Why then I trust the wish most dear to me
+   Will also be fulfilled.
+
+                                  RECHA.
+
+                         And in its place
+   What wish shall take possession of my breast?
+   Which now forgets to heave, unless it pant
+   With some fond wish? Will nothing come? I shudder!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   My wish shall then supplant the one fulfilled,
+   My wish to see you borne to Europe's shores
+   By hands well worthy of you.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                    You do err.
+   The very thought which makes you form this wish
+   Forbids it to be mine. Your native land
+   Attracts you, and has mine no charm for me?
+   Shall a remembrance of your cherished home,
+   Your absent kindred and your dearest friends,
+   Which years and distance have not yet effaced,
+   Rule in your soul with softer, mightier sway
+   Than what I know, and hear, and feel of mine.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis vain to struggle, for the ways of Heaven
+   Are still the ways of Heaven. And who can say
+   If he who saved your life may not be doomed,
+   Through his God's arm, for whom he nobly fights.
+   To lead you to that people--to that land
+   To which you should belong by right of birth?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   What are you saying, Daja? dearest Daja!
+   Indeed you have some strange and curious thoughts.
+   "_His_ God!" whose God? To whom can God belong,
+   And how can God belong to any man,
+   Or need a human arm to fight his battles?
+   And who, among the scattered clods of earth
+   Can say for which of them himself was born,
+   Unless for that on which he was produced?
+   If Nathan heard thee! How has Nathan sinned,
+   That Daja seeks to paint my happiness
+   So far removed from his? What has he done,
+   That thus amongst the seeds of reason, which
+   He sowed unmixed and pure within my soul,
+   The hand of Daja must for ever seek
+   To plant the weeds, or flowers of her own land?
+   He has no wish to see upon this soil
+   Such rank luxuriant blossoms. I myself
+   Must own I faint beneath the sour--sick odour;
+   Your head is stronger and is used to it.
+   I find no fault with those of stronger nerves
+   Who can support it--mine, alas! give way.
+   Your angel too, how near befool'd was I
+   Through him; I blush whene'er I see my father.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   As if, dear Recha, you alone were wise.
+   Folly! If I might speak----
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                            And may you not?
+   Have I not listened gladly to your tales
+   About the valiant heroes of your faith?
+   Have I not freely on their deeds bestowed
+   My admiration--to their sufferings given
+   The tribute of my tears? Their faith, 'tis true,
+   Has never seemed to me their noblest boast,
+   But, therefore, Daja, I have only learnt
+   To find more consolation in the thought
+   That our devotion to the God of all
+   Depends not on our notions of that God.
+   My father has so often taught me this--
+   You have so often to this point agreed,
+   How can it be that you wish now alone
+   To undermine what you have built together?
+   But this is no discourse with which to wait
+   The friend whom we expect--and yet for me
+   'Tis of some moment whether he----But hark!
+   Hark! Some one comes this way.---If it were he!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                       The Templar, Daja, Recha.
+
+                  (_A servant ushers in the_ Templar.)
+
+   This way, Sir Knight!--
+
+   (Recha _starts, composes herself, and is about to fall at his
+                                feet_.)
+
+                          'Tis he! my rescuer. Ah!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   'Twas only to avoid this scene that I
+   So long postponed my visit.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                   At the feet
+   Of this proud man, I will thank God alone,
+   And not the man. He does not want my thanks--
+   As little as the bucket does which proved
+   Itself so useful at the fire, and let
+   Itself be filled and emptied; so this man,
+   He too was thrust by chance amid the flames;
+   I dropped by chance into his open arms,
+   By chance remained there, like a fluttering spark
+   Upon his mantle--till--I know not what
+   Expelled us from the flames. What room is here
+   For thanks?--In Europe wine excites the men
+   To greater deeds--The Templar knows his duty,
+   Performs his task, as well-trained spaniels do,
+   Who fetch alike from water and from flames.
+
+ TEMPLAR (_who has been surveying her with surprise and uneasiness_).
+
+   O Daja, Daja! if in hasty hours
+   Of care and grief, this unchecked tongue of mine
+   Betrayed me into rudeness, why convey
+   To her each idle word that leaves my lips?
+   This is indeed too galling a revenge!
+   Yet, if henceforth, you will interpret better----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I question if these little stings, Sir Knight,
+   Were so shot forth as to have done you wrong.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   How! you had cares, and were more covetous
+   Of them than of your life.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             Thou best of beings,
+   How is my soul with eye and ear at strife?
+   No, 'twas not she I rescued from the fire,
+   For who could know her and forbear the deed?
+   In truth, disguised by terror----
+                (_He gazes on her as if entranced_.)
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                  But to me
+   You still appear the same as then you seemed.
+   (_A pause, till she resumes in order to interrupt his reverie_.)
+   Tell me, Sir Knight, where have you been so long?
+   And--I might almost ask--where are you now?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I am where I, perhaps, ought not to be.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   And been, perhaps, where you should not have been.
+   That is not well.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                    I have been up the mountain--
+   What is the name?--ay! Sinai!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       I am glad;
+   For, doubtless, you can tell me if 'tis true----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   If what is true? If holy people show
+   The spot where Moses stood before his God?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh no; not that. Wherever Moses stood
+   It was before his God. I know enough
+   About such things already. Is it true--
+   I wish to learn from you who have been there--
+   If it is not by far less difficult
+   To climb than to descend the holy mount?
+   For with all other mountains that I know,
+   'Tis quite the contrary. You turn away!
+   Why do you turn, Sir Knight? Nay, look at me.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I wish to hear you rather.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                              I perceive,
+   Because you do not wish that I should see
+   You smile at my simplicity. You smile
+   That I have not some more important thing
+   To ask about the holy hill of hills.
+   Is it so?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+             Must I meet those eyes again?
+   And now you cast them down, and check your smile.
+   How can I in those changeful features read
+   What I so plainly hear--the truth your words
+   So audibly declare, and yet would hide?
+   How truly did your father say to me,
+   "If you but knew her!"
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                             Who said that to you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Your father, and of you he spoke the words.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Have I not said it to you many times?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Where is your father now? with Saladin?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Doubtless he is.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                      Still there! Oh, I forget.
+   He cannot still be there. He waits for me,
+   As he appointed, near the cloister gate.
+   Forgive me, I must go in quest of him.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I will do that. Wait here, I'll bring him straight.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   O no, O no! He is expecting me.
+   Besides, you cannot tell what may have chanced.
+   'Tis not unlikely he may be engaged
+   With Saladin--you do not know the Sultan--
+   In some unpleasant----Danger may ensue
+   If I delay.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+              Danger! for whom? for what?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Danger for me--for you--for him! unless
+   I go at once                                    (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                              Recha, Daja.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                  What is the matter, Daja?
+   So quick! what ails him--makes him fly from hence?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Let him alone. I think it no bad sign.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Sign! and of what?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                           That something vexes him.
+   It boils, but it must not boil over. Go,
+   'Tis your turn now.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        My turn. You have become
+   Incomprehensible to me--like him.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Now you may pay him back with interest
+   All the unrest he once occasioned you.
+   But be not too vindictive--too severe.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Well, Daja, you must know your meaning best.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   And are you then already calm once more?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   In truth I am.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                     Confess at least, dear Recha,
+   That all this restlessness has brought you pleasure,
+   And that you have to thank his want of ease
+   For all the ease that you yourself enjoy.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   I know not that, but I must still confess
+   That to myself it seems a mystery
+   How in this bosom, such a pleasing calm
+   Can suddenly succeed so rude a storm.
+   His countenance, his speech, his manner have----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   By this time satisfied you.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                No, not that.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Well, satisfied your more impatient want.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Well, well, if you must have it so.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        Not I!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   To me he must be ever dear. To me
+   He must remain more dear than life, although
+   My pulse no longer flutters at his name,
+   My heart no longer, when I think of him,
+   Beats with a fuller throb. What have I said?
+   Come, Daja, to the window once again
+   Which overlooks the palms.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   I see 'tis not
+   Yet satisfied, that more impatient want.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Now, I shall see the palm--trees once again;
+   Not him alone amidst them.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  Such a fit
+   Of coldness speaks of fevers yet to come.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Nay, I'm not cold, in truth I do not see
+   Less gladly that which I do calmly see.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+            (_The Hall of Audience in_ Saladin's _Palace_.)
+
+                            Saladin, Sittah.
+
+                     SALADIN (_giving directions_).
+
+   Bring the Jew here, as soon as he arrives.
+   He seems in no great haste.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                Nay, Saladin,
+   Perhaps he was not found at home.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                        Ah, sister!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   You look as if some contest were at hand.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ay! and with weapons I'm not used to wield.
+   Must I then play the hypocrite--and frame
+   Precautions--lay a snare? Where learnt I that?
+   And for what end? To seek for money--money!
+   For money from a Jew? And to such arts
+   Must Saladin descend, that he may win
+   The most contemptible of paltry things?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   But paltry things, despised too much, are sure
+   To find some method of revenge.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    'Tis true!
+   What, if this Jew should prove an upright man,
+   Such as the Dervise painted him?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                        Why, then,
+   Your difficulty ceases; for a snare
+   Implies an avaricious, cheating Jew,
+   And not an upright man. Then he is ours
+   Without a snare. 'Twill give us joy to hear
+   How such a man will speak--with what stern strength
+   He'll tear the net, or with what cunning skill
+   Untangle all its meshes, one by one.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   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 pass.--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 prone
+   To think it is their swords alone that raise them.
+   When with the fox the noble lion hunts,
+   'Tis of the fellowship 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.
+
+                              No, not with you,
+   But in this neighb'ring chamber.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                        What! to listen?
+   Not so, my sister, if I shall succeed.
+   Away! the curtain rustles--he is come.
+   Beware of lingering! I'll be on the watch.
+   (_While_ Sittah _retires through, one door_, Nathan _enters at
+              another, and_ Saladin _seats himself_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                            Saladin, Nathan.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Draw nearer, Jew--yet nearer--close to me!
+   Lay fear aside.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                   Fear, Sultan, 's for your foes.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Your name is Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           Yes.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    Nathan the Wise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+        But, at least the people call you so.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   That may be true. The people!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                       Do not think
+   I treat the people's voice contemptuously.
+   I have been wishing long to know the man
+   Whom it has called the Wise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   What, if it named
+   Him so in scorn? If wise means prudent only--
+   And prudent, one who knows his interest well?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Who knows his real interest, you mean.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then, Sultan, selfish men were the most prudent,
+   And wise, and prudent, then, would mean the same.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You're proving what your speeches contradict.
+   You know the real interests of man:
+   The people know them not--have never sought
+   To know them. That alone can make man wise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Which every man conceives himself to be.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   A truce to modesty! To meet it ever,
+   When we are seeking truth is wearisome (_springs up_).
+   So, let us to the point. Be candid, Jew,
+   Be frank and honest.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        I will serve you, prince,
+   And prove that I am worthy of your favour.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   How will you serve me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                You shall have the best
+   Of all I have, and at the cheapest rate.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What mean you? Not your wares?--My sister, then,
+   Shall make the bargain with you. (That's for the listener!)
+   I am not versed in mercantile affairs,
+   And with a merchant's craft I've nought to do.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Doubtless you would inquire if I have marked
+   Upon my route the movements of the foe?
+   Whether he's stirring? If I may presume----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Neither was that my object. On that point
+   I know enough. But hear me.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 I obey.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   It is another, a far different thing
+   On which I seek for wisdom; and since you
+   Are called the Wise, tell me which faith or law
+   You deem the best.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Sultan, I am a Jew.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And I a Mussulman. The Christian stands
+   Between us. Here are three religions, then,
+   And of these three one only can be true.
+   A man like you remains not where his birth
+   By accident has cast him; or if so,
+   Conviction, choice, or ground of preference,
+   Supports him. Let me, Nathan, hear from you,
+   In confidence, the reasons of your choice,
+   Which I have lacked the leisure to examine.
+   It may be, Nathan, that I am the first
+   Sultan who has indulged this strange caprice,
+   Which need not, therefore, make a Sultan blush.
+   Am I the first? Nay, speak; or if you seek
+   A brief delay to shape your scattered thoughts,
+   I yield it freely. (Has she overheard?
+   She will inform me if I've acted right.)
+   Reflect then, Nathan, I shall soon return. (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                           NATHAN (_alone_).
+
+   Strange! how is this? What can the Sultan want?
+   I came prepared for cash--he asks for truth!
+   Truth! as if truth were cash! A coin disused--
+   Valued by weight! If so, 'twere well, indeed!
+   But coin quite new, not coin but for the die,
+   To be flung down and on the counter told----
+   It is not that. Like gold tied up in bags,
+   Will truth lie hoarded in the wise man's head,
+   To be produced at need? Now, in this case,
+   Which of us plays the Jew? He asks for truth.
+   Is truth what he requires? his aim, his end?
+   Or does he use it as a subtle snare?
+   That were too petty for his noble mind.
+   Yet what is e'er too petty for the great?
+   Did he not rush at once into the house,
+   Whilst, as a friend, he would have paused or knocked?
+   I must beware. Yet to repel him now
+   And act the stubborn Jew, is not the thing;
+   And wholly to fling off the Jew, still less.
+   For if no Jew, he might with justice ask,
+   Why not a Mussulman?--That thought may serve.--
+   Others than children may be quieted
+   With tales well told. But see, he comes--he comes.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Saladin, Nathan.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   (_Aside_) (The coast is clear)--I am not come too soon?
+   Have you reflected on this matter, Nathan?
+   Speak! no one hears.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           Would all the world might hear!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And are you of your cause so confident?
+   'Tis wise, indeed, of you to hide no truth,
+   For truth to hazard all, even life and goods.
+
+                                 NATHAN.
+
+   Ay, when necessity and profit bid.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I hope that henceforth I shall rightly bear
+   One of my names, "Reformer of the world
+   And of the law!"
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      A noble title, truly;
+   But, Sultan, ere I quite explain myself,
+   Permit me to relate a tale.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Why not?
+   I ever was a friend of tales well told.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well told! Ah, Sultan! that's another thing.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What! still so proudly modest? But begin.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   In days of yore, there dwelt in Eastern lands
+   A man, who from a valued hand received
+   A ring of priceless worth. An opal stone
+   Shot from within an ever-changing hue,
+   And held this virtue in its form concealed,
+   To render him of God and man beloved,
+   Who wore it in this fixed unchanging faith.
+   No wonder that its Eastern owner ne'er
+   Withdrew it from his finger, and resolved
+   That to his house the ring should be secured.
+   Therefore he thus bequeathed it: first to him
+   Who was the most beloved of his sons,
+   Ordaining then that he should leave the ring
+   To the most dear among his children; then,
+   That without heeding birth, the fav'rite son,
+   In virtue of the ring alone, should still
+   Be lord of all the house. You hear me, Sultan?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I understand. Proceed.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             From son to son,
+   The ring at length descended to a sire
+   Who had three sons, alike obedient to him,
+   And whom he loved with just and equal love.
+   The first, the second, and the third, in turn,
+   According as they each apart received
+   The overflowings of his heart, appeared
+   Most worthy as his heir, to take the ring,
+   Which, with good-natured weakness, he in turn
+   Had promised privately to each; and thus
+   Things lasted for a while. But death approached,
+   The father now embarrassed, could not bear
+   To disappoint two sons, who trusted him.
+   What's to be done? In secret he commands
+   The jeweller to come, that from the form
+   Of the true ring, he may bespeak two more.
+   Nor cost nor pains are to be spared, to make
+   The rings alike--quite like the true one. This
+   The artist managed. When the rings were brought
+   The father's eye could not distinguish which
+   Had been the model. Overjoyed, he calls
+   His sons, takes leave of each apart--bestows
+   His blessing and his ring on each--and dies.
+   You hear me?
+
+             SALADIN (_who has turned away in perplexity_).
+
+                      Ay! I hear. Conclude the tale.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   'Tis ended, Sultan! All that follows next
+   May well be guessed. Scarce is the father dead,
+   When with his ring, each separate son appears,
+   And claims to be the lord of all the house.
+   Question arises, tumult and debate--
+   But all in vain--the true ring could no more
+   Be then distinguished than----(_after a pause, in which he
+     awaits the Sultan's reply_) the true faith now.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Is that your answer to my question?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                              No!
+   But it may serve as my apology.
+   I cannot venture to decide between
+   Rings which the father had expressly made,
+   To baffle those who would distinguish them.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Rings, Nathan! Come, a truce to this! The creeds
+   Which I have named have broad, distinctive marks,
+   Differing in raiment, food, and drink!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                           'Tis true!
+   But then they differ not in their foundation.
+   Are not all built on history alike,
+   Traditional or written? History
+   Must be received on trust. Is it not so?
+   In whom are we most likely to put trust?
+   In our own people? in those very men
+   Whose blood we are? who, from our earliest youth
+   Have proved their love for us, have ne'er deceived,
+   Except in cases where 'twere better so?
+   Why should I credit my forefathers less
+   Than you do yours? or can I ask of you
+   To charge your ancestors with falsehood, that
+   The praise of truth may be bestowed on mine?
+   And so of Christians.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                         By our Prophet's faith,
+   The man is right. I have no more to say.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Now let us to our rings once more return.
+   We said the sons complained; each to the judge
+   Swore from his father's hand immediately
+   To have received the ring--as was the case--
+   In virtue of a promise, that he should
+   One day enjoy the ring's prerogative.
+   In this they spoke the truth. Then each maintained
+   It was not possible that to himself
+   His father had been false. Each could not think
+   His father guilty of an act so base.
+   Rather than that, reluctant as he was
+   To judge his brethren, he must yet declare
+   Some treach'rous act of falsehood had been done.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well! and the judge? I'm curious now to hear
+   What you will make him say. Go on, go on!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The judge said: If the father is not brought
+   Before my seat, I cannot judge the case.
+   Am I to judge enigmas? Do you think
+   That the true ring will here unseal its lips?
+   But, hold! You tell me that the real ring
+   Enjoys the secret power to make the man
+   Who wears it, both by God and man, beloved.
+   Let that decide. Who of the three is loved
+   Best by his brethren? Is there no reply?
+   What! do these love--exciting rings alone
+   Act inwardly? Have they no outward charm?
+   Does each one love himself alone? You're all
+   Deceived deceivers. All your rings are false.
+   The real ring, perchance, has disappeared;
+   And so your father, to supply the loss,
+   Has caused three rings to fill the place of one.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   O, charming, charming!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         And,--the judge continued:--
+   If you insist on judgment, and refuse
+   My counsel, be it so. I recommend
+   That you consider how the matter stands.
+   Each from his father has received a ring:
+   Let each then think the real ring his own.
+   Your father, possibly, desired to free
+   His power from one ring's tyrannous control.
+   He loved you all with an impartial love,
+   And equally, and had no inward wish
+   To prove the measure of his love for one
+   By pressing heavily upon the rest.
+   Therefore, let each one imitate this love;
+   So, free from prejudice, let each one aim
+   To emulate his brethren in the strife
+   To prove the virtues of his several ring,
+   By offices of kindness and of love,
+   And trust in God. And if, in years to come,
+   The virtues of the ring shall reappear
+   Amongst your children's children, then, once more,
+   Come to this judgment--seat. A greater far
+   Than I shall sit upon it, and decide.
+   So spake the modest judge.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Oh God, O God!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And if now, Saladin, you think you're he----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+(_Approaches_ Nathan, _and takes his hand, which he retains to the end
+of the scene_.)
+
+   This promised judge--I?--Dust! I?--Nought! oh God!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What is the matter, Sultan?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                   Dearest Nathan!
+   That judge's thousand years are not yet past;
+   His judgment-seat is not for me. But go,
+   And still remain my friend.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 Has Saladin
+   Aught else to say?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        No.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Nothing?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                          Truly nothing.
+   But why this eagerness?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              I could have wished
+   An opportunity to ask a boon.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+Wait not for opportunity. Speak now.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I have been traveling, and am just returned
+   From a long journey, from collecting debts.
+   Hard cash is troublesome these perilous times,
+   I know not where I may bestow it safely.
+   These coming wars need money; and, perchance,
+   You can employ it for me, Saladin?
+
+                SALADIN (_fixing his eyes upon_ Nathan).
+
+   I ask not, Nathan, have you seen Al-Hafi?
+   Nor if some shrewd suspicion of your own
+   Moves you to make this offer.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   What suspicion?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I do not ask--forgive me,--it is just,
+   For what avails concealment? I confess
+   I was about----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                 To ask this very thing?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Yes!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+          Then our objects are at once fulfilled,
+   And if I cannot send you all my store,
+   The Templar is to blame for that. You know
+   The man. I owe a heavy debt to him.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   The Templar! Surely, Nathan, with your gold
+   You do not aid my direst foes?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    I speak
+   Of him whose life was spared by Saladin.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Of what do you remind me? I had quite
+   Forgot the youth. Where is he? Know you him?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Have you not heard, then, how your clemency
+   Through him has flowed to me? How, at the risk
+   Of the existence which your mercy gave,
+   He saved my daughter from the raging flames?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ha! did he so? He looked like one that would!
+   My brother, too--his image--would have done it.
+   Is he still here? Bring him to me at once.
+   I have so often spoken to my sister
+   Of this same brother, whom she never knew,
+   That I must let her see his counterfeit.
+   Go, fetch him. How a single noble deed,
+   Though but the offspring of the merest whim,
+   Gives birth to other blessings! Bring him to me.
+
+                  NATHAN (_loosing_ Saladin's _hand_).
+
+   I'll go--the other matter then is settled. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I wish I had but let my sister listen.
+   I'll go at once to her and tell it all.
+                              (_Exit on the opposite side_.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+_The Place of Palms in the neighbourhood of the Convent, where the_
+Templar _awaits_ Nathan.
+
+       TEMPLAR (_walking to and fro, in conflict with himself_.)
+
+   The panting victim here may rest awhile.
+   So far 'tis well. I dare not ask myself
+   What change has sprung within me, nor inquire
+   What yet may happen. Flight has proved in vain,
+   And, come what may, I could no more than flee,
+   The stroke was far too sudden to escape.
+   Long--much--I strove to keep aloof, in vain.
+   But once to see her, e'en against my will,
+   To see her, and to frame a firm resolve
+   Never to lose her. What, then, is resolve?
+   Resolve is purpose--action, while--in truth--
+   I was but passive. But to see her once,
+   And feel that I was woven into her being,
+   Was then and still remains the self-same thing.
+   To live apart from her--oh, bitter thought!--
+   Were death; and after death--where'er we were--
+   'Twould there be death too. Say, then, is this love?
+   And doth the Templar love? A Christian loves
+   A Jewish maiden! Well, and what of that?
+   This is the holy land; holy to me,
+   And dear, because I have of late renounced
+   Full many a prejudice. What says my vow?
+   In the same hour that made me prisoner
+   To Saladin. The head he gave me back,
+   Was it the old one? No. I'm newly framed,
+   I know no fragment of the ancient forms
+   That bound me once. My brain is clearer now,
+   More fit for my paternal home above.
+   Now I can think as once my father thought,
+   If tales of him are not untruly told--
+   Tales that were ne'er so credible as now,
+   When I am stumbling where my father fell.
+   Fell! yet 'twere better far to fall with men
+   Than stand with boys. His conduct guarantees
+   His approbation. And what need I more
+   Than Nathan's approbation? Of his praise
+   I cannot doubt. Oh, what a Jew is he!
+   And yet he would appear the simple Jew.
+   But, see, he comes--he comes in haste--delight
+   Beams from his eye. But who leaves Saladin
+   With other looks? Ho! Nathan!
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                         Nathan, _the_ Templar.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    Are you there?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Your visit to the Sultan has been long.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Not over long. My audience was delayed.
+   But, Conrad, this man well supports his fame--
+   His fame is but his shadow. But I must
+   Without delay inform you that he would----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                                Say on.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Would speak with you. So, come with me at once.
+   I have some brief commands to give at home,
+   Then to the Sultan.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Nathan, I will ne'er
+   Enter your door again----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Then you've been there
+   Already--spoken with her. Tell me all.
+   How do you like my Recha?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Words would fail
+   To tell how much. I dare not trust myself
+   Alone with her again, unless you say
+   That I may gaze upon her form for ever.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What can this mean?
+
+        TEMPLAR (_after a short pause, embracing him suddenly_).
+
+                              My father!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   How, young man?
+
+              TEMPLAR (_withdrawing himself as suddenly_).
+
+   Call me your son! I do implore you, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Dear youth!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  And not your son! I pray you, Nathan,
+   Conjure you, by the strongest ties of Nature,
+   Let it content you now to be a man:
+   Repel me not.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    My dearest friend!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Say son!
+   Why not your son? What, if in Recha's heart
+   Mere gratitude had paved the way for love,
+   And if we both but waited your assent
+   To crown our union! You are silent, sir!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I am astonished at your words, young Knight.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Astonished! Do I then astonish you
+   With your own thoughts, although you know them not
+   When uttered by my lips. Astonished, Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Would that I knew what Stauffen was your father!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What say you, Nathan? At a time like this,
+   Can you indulge such empty, curious thoughts?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I knew a Stauffen once whose name was Conrad.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What, if my father bore that very name?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And did he so?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                   I bear my father's name,
+   I am called Conrad.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       So! And yet the man
+   I knew was not your father, for, like you,
+   He was a Templar, and was never married.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And what of that?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        How?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    He might still have been
+   My father.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  Nay, you jest.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               You're far too good.
+   What matters it? Does bastard wound your ear?
+   The race, good sir, is not to be despised.
+   But spare my pedigree, and I'll spare yours.
+   Great God! forbid my words should ever cast
+   The smallest doubt on your ancestral tree.
+   You can attest it backwards, leaf by leaf,
+   To Abraham. And from that point--I know it well,
+   Myself--can even swear to it.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Your words are bitter. Do I merit this?
+   What have I e'er refused you? I have but
+   Forborn assent at the first word you spoke.
+   No more!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+             Oh! true, no more. Forgive me, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well, come with me, come.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Whither? to your house?
+   That will I not--it burns. I'll wait you here.
+   Farewell. If I'm to see her once again,
+   I then shall see her often; and if not,
+   I have already seen her too--too much.
+
+
+                                Scene X.
+
+                          _The_ Templar, Daja.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Too much, indeed! Strange that the human brain
+   So infinite of comprehension, should
+   At times with a mere trifle be engrossed,
+   Suddenly filled, and all at once quite full,
+   No matter what it teems with. But the soul
+   Soon calms again, and the fermenting stuff
+   Makes itself room, restoring life and order.
+   And is this, then, the first time that I love?
+   And was the glow to which I gave that name
+   Not love at all? And is this love alone
+   Which now with burning flame consumes my heart?
+
+                 DAJA (_who has crept up to his side_).
+
+   Sir Knight! Sir Knight!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           Who calls? What, Daja, you!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Yes, I am here; I managed to slip by him.
+   But he can see us where we stand. Come nearer,
+   And place yourself with me behind this tree.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Why so mysterious? What's the secret, Daja?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Yes, 'tis a secret which has brought me hither--
+   A twofold secret. Part is known to me,
+   The other part to you. Come, let us change:
+   First tell me yours, and then I'll tell you mine.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Yes, willingly, when I have ascertained
+   What you call mine. But yours will throw a light
+   Upon the whole. Begin, then.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   That's not fair;
+   You must begin, Sir Knight, and I will follow.
+   For be assured my secret's nothing worth,
+   Unless I hear yours first. Then lose no time,
+   For if I guess it, you've not trusted me;
+   My secret, then, will be my own, and yours
+   Worth nothing. But do you suppose, Sir Knight,
+   That you can hide such secrets from a woman?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Secrets we often are unconscious of.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Perhaps. But I must prove myself your friend
+   And tell you all. Confess how happened it
+   That you so suddenly took leave of us,
+   And that with Nathan you will not return?
+   Has Recha, then, made no impression on you,
+   Or made too deep a one, perchance? Oh yes!
+   Too deep--too deep! You are a hapless bird
+   Whose fluttering wing the fatal twig has limed,
+   Confess it, plainly, with a word, you love--
+   Love her to madness, and I'll tell you then----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   To madness? Ah! you understand it well.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Well, grant the love, the madness I'll resign.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Because, of course, there is no doubt of it.
+   A Templar love a Jewess!----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              Why, it seems
+   Absurd. But often there's more fitness in
+   Some things than we can readily discern;
+   And 'twould not be the first time that our Lord
+   Had drawn us to Him by a secret path
+   Which we had ne'er discovered of ourselves.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Solemnly spoken I (and if for our Lord
+   I substituted Providence, 'twere true).
+   You make me curious, far beyond my wont.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   This is the land of miracles!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Ay, true,
+   Of miracles! Can it be otherwise,
+   When all the world flocks hither? Dearest Daja,
+   You have your wish; so take it as confessed
+   That I do love her, nor can comprehend
+   How I can live without her.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                Can this be?
+   Then swear, Sir Knight, to make her yours--to save
+   Her here on earth--to save her there for ever.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   How can I this? How can I swear to do
+   What stands not in my power.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  'Tis in your power!
+   One single word brings it within your power.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But will her father smile upon my suit?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Her father, truly! He shall be compelled.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Compell'd! What, has he fallen among thieves?
+   Compell'd!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+             Then hear me. Nathan will consent:
+   He must consent.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Consent! and must! Oh, Daja!
+   I have already tried to touch that chord;
+   It vibrates not responsive.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    What! reject you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   He answered me in such discordant tone
+   That I was hurt.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   What say you? Did you breathe
+   The shadow of a wish to marry Recha.
+   And did not Nathan leap for joy? Did he
+   Draw coldly back--raise obstacles?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        He did.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+            Then I'll deliberate no moment more.
+
+                       TEMPLAR (_after a pause_).
+
+   And yet you are deliberating still.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Nathan in all things has been ever good.
+   I owe him much. Did he refuse to listen?
+   God knows it grieves me to constrain him thus.
+
+                                 TEMPLAR.
+
+   I pray you, Daja, now to terminate
+   This dire uncertainty. But if you doubt
+   Whether the thing you would impart to me
+   Be right or wrong, worthy of shame or honour,
+   Then tell it not, and henceforth I'll forget
+   You have a secret it were well to hide.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Your words but spur me on to tell you all.
+   Then learn that Recha is no Jewess--that
+   She is a Christian maid.
+
+                          TEMPLAR (_coldly_).
+
+                              I wish you joy!
+   At last the tedious labour's at an end.
+   The birth-pangs have not hurt you. Still go on
+   With undiminished zeal, and people heaven
+   When you are fit no more to people earth.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   How, Knight! and does the news I bring deserve
+   Such bitter taunts? Does it confer no joy
+   On you to hear that Recha is a Christian,
+   On you, her lover, and a Christian knight?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And more especially since Recha is
+   A Christian of your making?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                 Think you so?
+   Then I would fain see him that may convert her.
+   It is her fate long since to have been that
+   Which she can now no more become.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                              Explain,
+   Or leave me.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                   Well! she is a Christian maid,
+   Of Christian parents born--and is baptised.
+
+                          TEMPLAR (_hastily_).
+
+   And Nathan!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                  Not her father.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             Nathan not
+   Her father? Are you sure of that?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        I am;
+   The truth has cost me tears of blood. He's not.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But as his daughter he has brought her up,
+   Brought up the Christian maiden as a Jewess?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Just so.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+             And knows she aught about her birth?
+   Has she not learnt from him that she was born
+   A Christian and no Jewess?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    Never yet.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And he not only let the child grow up
+   In this mistaken notion, but he leaves
+   The woman in it.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                        Ay, alas!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Oh, Nathan!
+   How can the wise, good Nathan lend himself
+   To stifle Nature's voice--to misdirect
+   The yearnings of a heart in such a way
+   Which, to itself abandoned, would have formed
+   Another bias, Daja? Ay, in truth,
+   The secret is of moment, and may have
+   Important issues. But I feel perplexed:
+   I know not how I ought to act. But go,
+   Let me have breathing time. He may approach,
+   He may surprise us suddenly. Farewell!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I tremble with affright.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         And I can scarce
+   Express my thoughts. But go; and should you chance
+   To meet him, say he'll find me at the Sultan's.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Let him not see that you have any thing
+   Against him. That 'twere well to keep reserved,
+   To give the proper turn to things at last.
+   It may remove your scruples, touching Recha.
+   But if you take her back to Europe, Knight,
+   You will not leave me here?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    We'll see, now go!
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT IV.
+
+               Scene I.--_The Cloisters of the Convent_.
+
+          _The_ Friar, _and presently afterwards the_ Templar.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Ay, ay! he must be right, the Patriarch!
+   And yet, of all his business, no great part
+   Has prospered in my hands. But why should he
+   Entrust such tasks to me? I have no wish
+   To play the knave, to wheedle and persuade,
+   To worm out secrets, and to thrust my hand
+   Into my neighbour's business. Not for this
+   Did I renounce the world, that I might be
+   Entangled with its cares for other men.
+
+                     TEMPLAR (_entering abruptly_).
+
+   Good brother, are you here? I've sought you long.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Me, sir?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+               What, don't you recollect me, then?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Ay! but, Sir Knight, I never thought to see
+   Your face again--and so I hoped in God.
+   God knows how much I hated the proposal
+   Which I was bound to make you, and He knows
+   How little I desired you should assent,
+   How in my inmost soul I was rejoiced
+   When you refused, without a moment's thought,
+   To do what had been shameful in a Knight.
+   But have you thought the matter o'er again?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You seem to know what object brings me here.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Have you, Sir Knight, reflected by this time,
+   That our good Patriarch is not much deceived
+   In thinking gold and glory may be won
+   By his commission? that a foe's a foe,
+   Were he our guardian angel seven times o'er?
+   Have you 'gainst flesh and blood weighed all these things,
+   And are you come to strike a bargain now?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   My dear good man, be patient; not for this
+   Am I come hither; not for aught like this
+   Do I desire to see the Patriarch.
+   On every point my thoughts remain unchanged;
+   Nor would I for the wealth of all this world
+   Forfeit that good opinion, which I won
+   From such an upright, honest man as you.
+   I merely come to ask the Patriarch
+   For counsel.
+
+                    FRIAR (_looking round timidly_).
+
+                 Counsel from the Patriarch!
+   What, you! a knight to ask a priest's advice!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Mine is a priestly business.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                 Yet the priests
+   Would scorn a knight's advice, were their affairs
+   Ever so knightly.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Therefore they're allowed
+   To err sometimes, a privilege which I,
+   For one, don't greatly envy them; and yet,
+   If I were acting only for myself,
+   And were not bound to others, I should care
+   But little for advice. But in some things
+   'Twere better to go wrong by others' guidance
+   Than, by our own, go right. And I observe,
+   By this time, that religion's naught but party,
+   And he who in his own belief is most
+   Impartial, does but hold the standard up
+   Of his own creed, howe'er unconsciously.
+   Yet since 'tis so, it must be right.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                     I'm silent.
+   In truth, I don't quite comprehend.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        And yet--
+   (Let me consider first what 'tis I want--
+   Decision or advice from sage or simple?)
+   Thanks, brother; yes, I thank you for your hint.
+   What is a patriarch? Be thou for once
+   My patriarch; for 'tis the Christian rather
+   Whom in the patriarch I would consult,
+   Than in the Christian the mere patriarch.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Hold, hold, Sir Knight! no more of this, I find
+   That you mistake me. He who hath learnt much
+   Must needs have many cares. I know but one----
+   But hark, behold! here comes the very man!
+   'Tis he, so stay; he has perceived us both.
+
+
+                                Scene II.
+
+_The_ Patriarch, _after marching up one of the aisles with great pomp,
+approaches_.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I'd rather shun him--he is not my man--
+   A round, red smiling prelate! And what state!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   But you should see him at a festival,
+   Now he but comes from visiting the sick.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Great Saladin will then have cause to blush.
+
+        PATRIARCH (_coming forward, makes signs to the_ Friar).
+
+   Was that the Templar? What's his business here?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I know not.
+
+   PATRIARCH (_advancing, whilst the_ Friar _and his train retire_.)
+
+                  Well, Sir Knight, I'm truly glad
+   To meet so brave a youth. So very young,
+   Something may come of him, if Heaven assist.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Not more than has already come of him,
+   But rather less, my reverend father.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                                           Well,
+   It is my prayer that so devout a Knight
+   May for the cause of Christendom and God
+   Be long preserved; nor can it fail to be,
+   If valour will give ear to aged words.
+   Then say, how can I serve you, Sir?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        With that
+   In which my youth's deficient--sound advice.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   Most gladly, if you'll follow my advice.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Not blindly, though.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                        Whose words are those? Indeed,
+   None should neglect to use the intellect
+   Bestowed by God, when it is suitable.
+   But is it always suitable? O no!
+   If God, through one of the celestial choir--
+   That is, through one of the blest ministers
+   Of His most sacred word--should condescend
+   To show some way by which the Church's weal,
+   Or else the general good of Christendom,
+   Might be secured, what man would venture then
+   To weigh the laws of intellect against
+   His will, who fashioned intellect itself?
+   Or measure the unchanged decrees of Heaven
+   By empty rules that suit this petty world?
+   But of all this enough. Now tell me, Knight,
+   Wherefore you seek our counsel?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Reverend father!
+   Suppose a Jew possessed an only child--
+   A girl--whom he with fond parental care
+   Trained to each virtue, treasured as his soul,
+   Whilst she, with love as ardent as his own,
+   Repaid his love,--suppose it rumoured then
+   That she was not the daughter of this Jew,
+   But a poor orphan, purchased in her youth,
+   Or stolen, or found--or anything, but still
+   Of Christian birth, and in her youth baptised,
+   And that the Jew had reared her in his faith,
+   Allowed her to be thought a Jewish maid,
+   And firmly to believe herself his child,--
+   Say, reverend father, what should then be done?
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   I shudder at the thought! But, worthy Sir,
+   Say, is this fact, or mere hypothesis?
+   That is, if your own head has framed the case,
+   Or has it happened--does it still exist?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That's unimportant, and could not assist
+   Your reverence to pronounce upon the point.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   What! unimportant! See, Sir Knight, how apt
+   Proud reason is to err in sacred things.
+   'Tis of deep import; though, 'tis true, the case
+   May be the offspring of your sportive wit,
+   When we should straight dismiss it from our thoughts,
+   And I should then refer you to the stage
+   Where _pros_ and _cons_ like these are oft discussed
+   With loud applause. But if the object be,
+   By something better than a sleight of hand,
+   To sound my judgment, if the thing be fact,
+   And may have happened in our diocese,
+   Here in our dear Jerusalem itself,
+   Why then----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  What then?
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                         Then were it well, Sir Knight,
+   To execute at once upon the Jew
+   The penalty provided for the case,
+   By Papal and Imperial laws, against
+   So foul a crime, such dire iniquity.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+             The laws I mention have decreed
+   That if a Jew shall to apostasy
+   Seduce a Christian, he shall die by fire.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+            How much more when a Jew by force
+   Tears from baptismal bonds a Christian child?
+   For all that's done to children is by force,
+   Save what the Church shall order and perform.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What if the child were steeped in misery,
+   And must have died, but for this bounteous Jew?
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   It matters not: the Jew should still be burnt.
+   'Twere better to expire in misery,
+   Than live to suffer never-ending pains.
+   The Jew moreover should not have forestalled
+   The hand of God, whom had He willed to save,
+   Could save without him.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              Make him happy too,
+   In spite of him.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                     It matters not, the Jew
+   Must still be burnt.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        That grieves me very much,
+   And all the more, as people say that he
+   Has reared the child not in his own belief,
+   So much as in no faith at all, and taught
+   Her neither more nor less of God than is
+   By reason asked.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                        It matters not, the Jew
+   Must still be burnt--and for this very cause
+   Would merit threefold death. To rear a child
+   Without a faith! Not even teach a child
+   The greatest of all duties--to believe!
+   'Tis heinous, and I'm rapt in wonder, Knight,
+   That you yourself----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         Oh, reverend Sir, the rest
+   In the confessional, if God allow. (_Is going_.)
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   What, going! and not await my questioning!
+   Not name to me this infidel, this Jew!
+   Not find him out for me at once! But, hold!
+   A thought occurs. I'll to the Sultan straight.
+   According to the treaty we have sworn
+   With Saladin, he must protect our creed
+   With all the privileges, all the rights
+   That appertain to our most holy faith.
+   Thank God! we have retained the deed itself,
+   With seal and signature affixed, and we
+   Can readily convince him, make him feel
+   How full of peril for the state it is
+   Not to believe. All civil bonds are rent
+   Asunder, torn to pieces, Knight, when men
+   Have no belief. Away, away for ever
+   With such impiety!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         I much deplore
+   That I want time to relish this discourse,
+   This holy sermon. Saladin awaits
+   My coming.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                  Ah, indeed!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             And I'll prepare
+   The Sultan for your presence, reverend Sir,
+   If you desire.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                  Why, yes! for I have heard
+   You have found favour in the Sultan's sight.
+   I beg to be remembered with respect.
+   Zeal in the cause of God impels me on,
+   And all excesses are performed for Him.
+   Weigh that in kindness, then, most noble 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 Assad's voice still slumbers in my soul!)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                      _The_ Templar _and_ Saladin.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I am your prisoner, Sultan.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                You my prisoner!
+   Shall I refuse him liberty, whose life
+   I freely spared?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                     It is my duty, Sire,
+   To hear, and not anticipate, your will.
+   Yet it but ill becomes my character
+   And station, Sultan, to be thus profuse
+   Of gratitude because you've spared my life--
+   A life which henceforth is at your command.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Only forbear to use it to my hurt.
+   Not that I grudge my mortal enemy
+   Another pair of hands; but such a heart
+   As yours I do not yield him willingly.
+   You valiant youth! I have not gauged you ill:
+   In soul and body, you are truly Assad.
+   I fain would learn where you have been so long
+   Concealed. In what dim cavern you have slept?
+   What spirit, in some region of the blest,
+   Has kept this beauteous flower so fresh in bloom?
+   Methinks I could remind you of our sports
+   In days gone by; and I could chide you, too,
+   For having kept one secret from my ear,
+   For having dared one gallant deed alone.
+   I'm happy that so much of this deceit
+   At least is true, that in my sear of life
+   An Assad blooms for me once more. And you,
+   You too are happy, Knight!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  Whate'er you will--
+   Whatever be your thought--lies as a wish
+   Within mine inmost soul.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                             We'll prove you, then.
+   Will you abide with me?--cling to my side,
+   Whether as Christian or as Mussulman,
+   In turban or white mantle? Choose your garb--
+   Choose for yourself. I never have desired
+   That the same bark should grow on every tree.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+   Else, Saladin, you never had become
+   The hero that you are--who'd rather be
+   The gardener of the Lord.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 If thus you think
+   Of Saladin, we're half agreed, already----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Nay, quite!
+
+                     SALADIN (_offering his hand_).
+
+   One word!
+
+                         TEMPLAR (_taking it_).
+
+                             One man! and with this hand
+   Take more than you can e'er take back again.
+   Henceforth I'm wholly yours.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                This is too much--
+   For one day 'tis too much! Came he not with you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Who?
+                                SALADIN.
+
+            Who? Nathan.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              No; I came alone.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Oh, what a deed was thine! what happiness
+   That such a deed should serve so good a man!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   'Twas nothing.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                Why so cold, O valiant youth!
+   When God makes man His minister of good,
+   He need not be so cold, nor modestly
+   Wish to appear so cold.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              But in the world
+   All things have many sides, and who is he
+   Can comprehend how they may fit each other?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Cling ever to what's noble, and praise God!
+   He knows how all things fit. But if you are
+   So scrupulous, young man, I must beware.
+   I too have many sides, and some of them
+   May seem to you not always made to fit.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That grieves me; for suspicion, at the least,
+   Is not a sin of mine.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     Then, tell me, whom
+   Do you suspect? Not Nathan, surely? What!
+   Nathan suspected, and by you? Explain--
+   Afford me this first proof of confidence.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I've nothing against Nathan. I am vexed,
+   But with myself alone.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Why so?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                     For dreaming
+   That any Jew can think himself no Jew.
+   I dreamt this waking.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Tell me all your dream.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You know that Nathan has a daughter, Sultan!
+   And what I did for her, I did--because
+   I did it. Far too proud to reap the thanks
+   I had not sown, from day to day I shunned
+   The maiden's sight. Her father was afar.
+   He comes, he hears, he seeks me, give me thanks;
+   Wishes that she might please me, and he talks
+   Of dawning prospects. Well, I hear it all,
+   I listen to him, go and see the maid--
+   O! such a maiden, Sultan. But, I blush.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Why blush? Blush that a Jewish maid should win
+   Your admiration? 'Tis a venial fault.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But oh! that, through her father's sweet discourse,
+   To this impression my o'er-hasty heart
+   Such weak resistance offered! Fool. I leaped
+   A second time into the flame, and then
+   I wooed, and was denied.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    Denied?--denied?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The prudent father does not plainly say
+   No, to my suit--but he must first inquire--
+   He must reflect. Well, be it so. Had I
+   Not done the same? I looked about, inquired--
+   Reflected--ere I plunged into the flames
+   Where she was shrieking. Oh, by Heaven! it is
+   A splendid thing to be so circumspect!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Nay, but you must concede somewhat to age.
+   His doubts will pass away, nor will he wish
+   You to become a Jew.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              Who knows?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                          Who knows!
+   One who knows Nathan better than yourself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And yet the superstitions we have learned
+   From education, do not lose their power
+   When we have found them out; nor are all free
+   Whose judgment mocks the galling chains they wear.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   'Tis wisely said; but Nathan, surely Nathan----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That superstition is the worst of all
+   Which thinks itself the easiest to be borne----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   'Tis possible. But Nathan----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                And to trust
+   To it alone a blind humanity
+   Till it is used to truth's more brilliant light.
+   To it alone----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                      Well, well! But Nathan's fate
+   Is not to be so weak----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              I thought so once,
+   But what if this bright pattern to mankind
+   Were such a thorough Jew that he seeks out
+   For Christian children to bring up as Jews?
+   How then?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  Who speaks so of him?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        E'en the maid
+   For whom I'm so distressed, with hopes of whom
+   He seemed so glad to recompense the deed
+   He would not suffer me to do for naught.
+   This maid is not his daughter; no, she is
+   A kidnapped Christian child.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                       Whom Nathan now
+   Refuses you!
+
+                         TEMPLAR (_earnestly_).
+
+                   Refuse or not refuse,
+   He is found out--the prating hypocrite
+   Is now found out; but on this Jewish wolf,
+   For all his philosophical sheep's garb,
+   Dogs I can loosen who will tear his hide.
+
+                         SALADIN (_earnestly_).
+
+   Peace, Christian!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  What! peace, Christian? Wherefore so?
+   Shall Jew and Mussulman be free to boast
+   Their creeds, and shall the Christian be ashamed
+   To own his faith?
+
+                      SALADIN (_more earnestly_).
+
+                        Peace, Christian!
+
+                           TEMPLAR (_calmly_).
+
+                                         Yes, I feel
+   What weight of blame lies in your calm reproof--
+   In that one word pronounced by Saladin.
+   Oh! that I knew what Assad would have done
+   Had he but fill'd my place!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                               He had not done
+   Much better; nay, perhaps, had been more warm.
+   Where did you learn to bribe me with a word?
+   And yet, in truth, if all has happened so
+   As you narrate, it is not much like Nathan.
+   But Nathan is my friend, and of my friends
+   One must not quarrel with the other. So
+   Take counsel, act with prudence. Do not loose
+   On him the fanatics among your race.
+   Keep silence. All the clergy of your sect
+   Would call to me for vengeance upon him
+   With far more show of right than I could wish.
+   Let not revenge impel you to become
+   A Christian to the Jew or Mussulman.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Thanks to the Patriarch's bloodthirsty rage,
+   Your counsel almost comes too late; and I
+   Had nearly proved his cruel instrument.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   How so? and did you see the Patriarch
+   Before you came to me?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Yes, in the storm
+   Of passion--in the whirl of doubt----Forgive me.
+   I fear you will no longer find in me
+   One feature of your Assad.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Yes, that fear
+   Is like him. But, methinks, I know full well
+   The weaknesses from which our virtues spring:
+   Attend to these--the former cannot hurt.
+   But go, seek Nathan, as he sought for you,
+   And bring him hither. Be but reconciled.
+   Are you in earnest, Knight, about this maid?
+   Be calm--she shall be yours. Nathan shall feel
+   That without swines-flesh he has dared to rear
+   A Christian child. Now, Templar, leave me. Go!
+                   (_Exit the_ Templar. Sittah _leaves the sofa_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                         Saladin _and_ Sittah.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   'Tis strange, indeed.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                      What say you now, my Sittah?
+   Was not our Assad once a handsome youth?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   If this were like him, and 'twere not the knight
+   Who had his portrait taken. But, dear brother,
+   How could you ever so forget yourself
+   As not to make inquiry for his parents?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And more especially about his mother?
+   That was your meaning--eh?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                              You are too quick.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   But nothing is more possible; for he,
+   My brother Assad, was so favoured by
+   The Christian ladies--handsome Christian ladies--
+   That a report once spread----But 'tis not right
+   We should refer to that. We'll be content
+   That he is here again, with all his faults,
+   The faults and wildness of his gentle heart--
+   That he is here again. Oh, Nathan must
+   Give him the maid. What think you?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                          What, to him?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ay! for what claim has Nathan to the girl
+   If he is not her father? He, who saved
+   Her life, may properly assume the rights
+   Of him who gave existence to the maid.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Then might not Saladin lay claim to her,
+   Withdrawing her from the unrightful owner?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   There is no need of that.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                             No actual need,
+   But female curiosity suggests
+   That counsel to me. There are certain men
+   Of whom I feel impatient till I know
+   What maidens they can love.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                   Well send for her.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Brother, may I do that?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                           But hurt not Nathan.
+   He must not think that we, by violence,
+   Would separate them.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                              Fear it not.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                           Farewell!
+   I must find out where this Al-Hafi is.
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+_The hall in_ Nathan's _house, looking towards the palm-trees, as in
+the first Act. Part of the merchandise and treasures unpacked and
+displayed_.
+
+                           Nathan _and_ Daja.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   O, how magnificent are all these things!
+   How rich! they're such as none but you could give.
+   Where was this silver stuff with sprigs of gold
+   Woven? What might it cost? 'Tis what I call
+   A wedding garment. Is there any queen
+   Could wish aught richer?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Why a wedding robe?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   In buying it, you never thought of that.
+   But, Nathan, it must be so--it must, indeed--
+   'Twas made for that. See, here, the pure white ground,
+   Emblem of innocence; that branching gold,
+   Covering the virgin white on every side,
+   Emblem of wealth. Say, is it not divine?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why all this ingenuity of speech?
+   Over whose wedding dress would you display
+   This learning? Have you found a lover, Daja?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   What, I?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  Who, then?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              I, gracious Heaven?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                              Who, then?
+   Whose wedding garment would you speak of, Daja?
+   All this is yours, 'tis meant for no one else.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   What, mine! for me! I thought it was for Recha.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No, what I bought for her is elsewhere packed;
+   'Tis in another bale. But, come, away
+   With all this rubbish.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                           Nathan, tempt me not,
+   For were these things the very costliest
+   In all the world, I'll touch not one of them
+   Till you have sworn to seize a happy chance
+   Which Heaven ne'er offers twice.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                          What happy chance?
+   What must I seize?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                     Nathan, feign not such ignorance.
+   But, in one word--the Templar loves your Recha--
+   Give her to him, and then your sin, which I
+   Can hide no longer, will for ever cease.
+   The maid will then once more resume her place
+   Amongst the Christians, will again become
+   What she was born to, and what once she was;
+   And you, whom we can never thank enough
+   For all your goodness, will not then have heaped
+   More burning coals of fire upon your head.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Still harping on the same old string again,
+   New tuned, but neither to accord nor hold.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   How so?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+               The Templar pleases me; 'tis true
+   I'd rather he, than any one, had Recha.
+   But patience.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                  Patience! and, say, is not that
+   The string you always harp on?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  Still, have patience
+   But for a few days longer. Ha! who comes?
+   A friar! Go ask him what his errand is.
+
+                            DAJA (_going_).
+
+   What can he want?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Give--give before he begs.
+   (Oh, that I knew how I could sound the Knight
+   Without betraying what my motive is!
+   For should I tell it, and my thoughts prove false,
+   I shall have staked the father's rights in vain.)
+   What is the matter?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    He would speak with you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Let him approach. Leave us together, Daja.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                        Nathan _and the_ Friar.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+    (_Aside_. Gladly I would continue Recha's father!
+   And can I not be so, though I may cease
+   To bear the name? To her--at least to her--
+   I should be father still, if she but knew
+   How willingly I bore that title once.)
+   What can I do to serve you, pious brother?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Not much; and yet it gives me pleasure, Nathan,
+   To see at least that you are still so well.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   You know me, then, it seems?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                 Who knows you not?
+   You have impressed your name on many a hand--
+   It has been stamped on mine these many years.
+
+                   NATHAN (_feeling for his purse_).
+
+   Come, brother, come; here's to refresh it.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                                     Thanks.
+   That would be robbing poorer men. I will
+   Take nothing; but I beg of you, permit
+   That I refresh your memory with my name;
+   For I can boast of having formerly
+   Placed something in your hand you should not scorn.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Excuse me--I'm ashamed--what was it? Say,
+   And then take for atonement sevenfold
+   The value of the thing.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                         Well, first of all,
+   Hear how this very day has brought to mind
+   The pledge I gave you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       What! a pledge to me?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Not long ago I led a hermit's life
+   On Quarantana, near to Jericho.
+   Some Arab thieves came and attacked my cell;
+   They robbed my oratory, forcing me
+   To follow them. But fortune favoured me.
+   I fled, came hither to the Patriarch,
+   And sought from him another calm retreat,
+   Where I might serve my God in solitude
+   Till death should bless me.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Ah! I am on thorns.
+   Be quick! What pledge did you entrust to me?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Yes, Nathan, presently. The Patriarch
+   Has promised I shall have a hermitage
+   On Tabor, when 'tis vacant; and meanwhile
+   Employs me in this convent as a brother,
+   And here I am at present. But I pine
+   For Tabor fifty times a day; for here
+   He makes me toil at work which I detest.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Be speedy, I beseech you.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                Well, it chanced
+   Some one has whispered in his ear to-day
+   That a Jew lives hard by, who educates
+   A Christian as his daughter.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 How?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                                  Nay, hear.
+   He has commissioned me, if possible,
+   To find this Jew out for him; and he raves
+   Loudly and bitterly against the crime,
+   Which he pronounces as the actual sin
+   Against the Holy Ghost--that is, the sin
+   The greatest, which a sinner can commit.
+   But luckily we can't exactly tell
+   Its nature. But my conscience all at once
+   Was roused, and it occurred to me that I
+   Had once, perhaps, been guilty of this sin.
+   Do you remember, eighteen years ago,
+   When a knight's squire committed to your hands
+   A female infant but a few weeks old?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What say you? Well, in fact there was----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                                  Ay, look--
+   Look well at me--for I'm that squire: 'twas I.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What! you?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                   And he from whom I brought the child
+   Was, if I recollect the matter right,
+   A Lord of Filneck--Wolf von Filneck.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                          Right.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Because the mother died not long before;
+   And he, the father, was obliged to fly
+   To Gaza suddenly. The helpless child
+   Could not accompany him, and therefore he
+   Committed it to you: that was my task.
+   I found you out at Daran.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Right, quite right.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   It were no wonder had my memory
+   Deceived me. I have served so many lords.
+   The one who fled was not my master long,
+   He fell at Askalon. His heart was kind.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, yes, and I have much to thank him for.
+   Not once, but many times he saved my life.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   O, glorious! then the greater joy for you
+   To educate his daughter.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              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 God.
+
+                                 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 God!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                                   You came.
+   Three nights in dust and ashes I had lain
+   Before my God 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.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But by degrees returning reason came,
+   And spoke with gentle accent: "God is just!
+   And this was His decree. Now exercise
+   The lesson thou so long hast understood,
+   And which is surely not more difficult
+   To exercise than well to understand."
+   I rose and cried to God, "I will, I will!
+   Do Thou but aid my purpose." And, behold,
+   Just at that moment you dismounted. You
+   Gave me the child enfolded in your robe.
+   The words we spoke occur not to me now.
+   This much I recollect: I took the child;
+   I bore it to my bed; I kissed its cheek;
+   I flung myself upon my knees, and sobbed,
+   "My God, Thou hast restored me one of seven!"
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Nathan, you are a Christian. Yes, I swear
+   You are a Christian--better never lived.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Indeed! the very thing that makes me seem
+   Christian to you, makes you a Jew to me.
+   But let us not distress each other thus,
+   'Tis time to act, and though a sevenfold love
+   Had bound me to this strange, this lovely maid,
+   Though the mere thought distracts me, that in her
+   I lose my seven dear sons a second time,
+   If Providence require her at my hands
+   I'm ready to obey.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                       'Tis well! And thus
+   I thought to counsel you; but there's no need:
+   Your own good genius has forestalled my words.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The first chance claimant must not tear her hence.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Most surely not.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    And he who has no claim
+   Stronger than mine--at least he ought to have
+   Those prior claims which----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    Certainly,
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                           Those claims
+   Which are derived from nature and from blood.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   In my opinion, yes.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Then name the man
+   As brother, or as uncle, bound to her,
+   I'll not withhold her from him; she was made
+   To be the ornament of any house,
+   The pride of any faith. I hope you know
+   More of your master and his creed than I.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   On that point, Nathan, I'm but ill informed,
+   I have already told you that I spent
+   Only some moments with him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 Can you tell
+   The mother's name, at least? She was, I think,
+   A Stauffen?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                  Possibly; nay, more--you're right.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Conrad of Stauffen was her brother's name.
+   He was a Templar.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Yes, I think he was:
+   But hold, I have a book that was my lord's.
+   I drew it from his bosom when he lay
+   Dead, and we buried him at Askalon.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+            There are prayers in it; 'tis what we call
+   A breviary. This, thought I, yet may serve
+   Some Christian man--not me, forsooth--for I
+   Can't read a word.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        No matter--to the point.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The pages of this book are written all
+   In his own hand, and, as I'm told, contain
+   All that's important touching him and her.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Go, run and fetch the book: 'tis fortunate!
+   I'll pay you for it with its weight in gold.
+   And with a thousand thanks besides. Go! run!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I go--but what he wrote is Arabic.               (_Exit_)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No matter, fetch it. What, if from this book
+   I can find means to keep this precious girl,
+   And win, to boot, a son-in-law like him!
+   I hardly hope--fate must decide. But who
+   Has told the Patriarch this? I must not fail
+   To ascertain. It surely was not Daja?
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                           Daja _and_ Nathan.
+
+                   DAJA (_rushing in in agitation_).
+
+   Only think, Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              What?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                     Well--only think:
+    The child was frightened when the message came!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   From whom? The Patriarch?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        The Sultan's sister,
+   The Princess Sittah--
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Not the Patriarch?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No, Sittah. Can't you hear? The Princess sends,
+   And wishes Recha to be brought to her.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Wishes for Recha! Sittah wishes thus?
+   'Tis Sittah, then--and not the Patriarch?
+
+                                  DAJA.
+
+   Why do you speak of him?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Have you not heard
+   Some tidings of him lately? Have you seen
+   Nothing of him, and whispered nothing to him?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   How could I so?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Where are the messengers?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   They stand without.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          I'll speak to them myself--
+   'Tis prudent; I shall see if nothing lurks
+   Behind this message, from the Patriarch.        (_Exit_.)
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Well, I have other fears. The only child,
+   As they suppose, of such a wealthy Jew,
+   Would for a Mussulman be no bad thing.
+   I'll wager that the Templar loses her,
+   Unless I risk a second step, and state
+   Plainly to Recha who she is. So, courage!
+   And to do this I must at once employ
+   The first brief moments when we are alone.
+   Chance serves: she waits for me, and on the way
+   An earnest hint will never prove amiss.
+   So now or never. All will soon be well. (_Follows Nathan_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT V.
+
+
+     Scene I.--_The room in_ Saladin's _Palace. The treasure still
+                               piled up_.
+
+                  (Saladin, _and several Mamelukes_.)
+
+                       SALADIN (_as he enters_).
+
+   There lies the gold--and no one yet has seen
+   The Dervise. He will probably be found
+   Over the chess-board. Play can often make
+   A man forget himself. Then why not me?
+   But patience. What's the matter?
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                                      Oh, good news!
+   Joy, Sultan! joy. The Cairo caravan
+   Is safe arrived, and from the Nile it brings
+   The seven years' tribute.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                            Bravo, Ibrahim!
+   You always were a welcome messenger,
+   And now at length--accept my heartfelt thanks
+   For the good tidings.
+
+                          1ST MAMELUKE (_waiting_).
+
+                                   (Let me have them, then!)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What are you waiting for? Go.
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                                                Nothing more
+   For my good news?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              What further?
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                                          Messengers
+   Of good are paid. Am I to be the first
+   Whom Saladin has learnt to pay with words?
+   The first to whom he proves ungenerous?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Go, take a purse.
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                           No, no--not now. Not if
+   You'd give them all to me.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                            All? Hold, young man!
+   Come hither. Take these purses--take these two.
+   What, going? And shall I be conquered thus
+   In generosity? for surely 'tis
+   More difficult for this man to refuse
+   Than for the Sultan to bestow. Then, here
+   Here, Ibrahim! Shall I be tempted, just
+   Before my death, to be a different man?
+   Shall Saladin not die like Saladin?
+   Then wherefore has he lived like Saladin?
+
+                      (_Enter a second Mameluke_.)
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   Hail, Sultan!
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                    If you come and bring the news----
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   That the Egyptian convoy is arrived.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I know it.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+                  Then I come too late.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                      Too late?
+   Wherefore too late? There, for your tidings take
+   A purse or two.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   Say three.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                     You reckon well;
+   But take them.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+                      A third messenger will come
+   Ere long, if he be able.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Wherefore so?
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   He may perhaps, ere this, have brok'n his neck.
+   We three, when we had heard of the approach
+   Of the rich caravan, mounted our steeds,
+   And galloped hitherward. The foremost fell,
+   Then I was first, and I continued so
+   Into the town; but that sly fellow there,
+   Who knew the streets----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                          But where is he who fell?
+
+   Go seek him out.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+                      That I will quickly do,
+   And if he lives, one half of this is his.       (_Exit_.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Oh, what a noble fellow! who can boast
+   Such Mamelukes as these? And may I not,
+   Without conceit, imagine that my life
+   Has helped to make them so? Avaunt the thought!
+   That I should ever teach them otherwise.
+
+                             3RD MAMELUKE.
+
+   Sultan!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  Are you the man who fell?
+
+                             3RD MAMELUKE.
+
+                                         No, Sire.
+   I have to tell you that the Emir Mansor,
+   Who led the caravan, is just arrived.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Then bring him quickly.--There he is already.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                 _The Emir_ Mansor _and_ Saladin.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Emir, you're welcome! What has happened to you,
+   Mansor? we have expected you for long.
+
+                                MANSOR.
+
+   This letter will explain how, in Thebais,
+   Some discontents required the sabred hand
+   Of Abulkassen. But, since then, our march
+   Has been pressed forward.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                               I believe it all.
+   But take, good Mansor--take, without delay,
+   Another escort if you will proceed,
+   And take the treasure on to Lebanon:
+   The greater part is destined for my father.
+
+                                MANSOR.
+
+   Most willingly.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     And let your escort be
+   A strong and trusty one, for Lebanon
+   Is far from quiet, and the Templars there
+   Are on the stir again; be cautious, then
+   Come, I must see your troop, and order all.
+   (_To a slave_.) Say I shall presently return to Sittah.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+           (_The palm-trees before_ Nathan's _house_.)
+
+              _The_ Templar, _walking up and down_.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Into this house I never enter more:
+   He'll come to me at last. Yet, formerly,
+   They used to watch for me with longing eyes;
+   And now----The time may come he'll send to beg,
+   Most civilly, that I will get me hence,
+   And not pace up and down before his door!
+   No matter: though I feel a little hurt.
+   I know not what has thus embittered me:
+   He answered yes, and has refused me naught,
+   So far, and Saladin has pledged himself
+   To bring him round. Say, does the Christian live
+   Deeper in me than the Jew lurks in him?
+   Ah! who can truly estimate himself?
+   How comes it else that I should grudge him so
+   The trifling booty, which he took such pains
+   To rob the Christians of? No trifling theft!
+   No less than such a creature! And to whom
+   Does she belong? Oh, surely not to him,
+   The thoughtless slave, who floated the mere block
+   On to life's barren strand, then disappeared.
+   Rather to him, the artist, whose fine soul
+   Has from the block moulded this godlike form,
+   And graved it there. And yet in spite of him,
+   The Christian, who begot this beauteous maid,
+   Recha's true father must be still the Jew.
+   Were I to fancy her a Christian now,
+   Bereft of all the Jew has given to her--
+   Which only such a Jew could have bestowed--
+   Speak out, my heart--where would have been her charm'
+   It had been nothing--little; then her smile
+   Had been a pretty twisting of the mouth
+   And that which caused it were unworthy deemed
+   Of the enchantment blooming on her lips.
+   No: not her very smile! I've seen sweet smiles
+   Squandered on pride, on foppery, on lies,
+   On flatterers, on wicked wooers spent:
+   And did they charm me then? Did they awake
+   The wish to flutter out existence in
+   Their sunshine? And I'm angry now with him
+   Who gave this higher value to the maid?
+   And wherefore so? Do I deserve the taunt
+   With which I was dismissed by Saladin?
+   'Twas bad enough he should think thus of me.
+   How wicked, how contemptible, alas!
+   I must have seemed to him! And for a girl!
+   Conrad, this will not do. Avaunt such thoughts!
+   And what if Daja has been chattering
+   Of things not easy to be proved? But see,
+   He comes, engaged in converse; and with whom?
+   With him, the Friar. Then he knows all: perhaps
+   He has betrayed him to the Patriarch.
+   O Conrad! what vile mischief hast thou done!
+   O! that one spark of love, that wayward passion,
+   Should so inflame the brain! But, quick! resolve;
+   What's to be done? Stay, step aside awhile;
+   Perhaps the Friar will leave him. Let us see.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                        Nathan _and the_ Friar.
+
+                      NATHAN (_approaching him_).
+
+   Good brother, once more, thanks.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                            The same to you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why thanks from you? Because I'm wayward, and
+   Would force upon you what you cannot use?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The book you have did not belong to me.
+   It is the maid's, is all her property,
+   Her only patrimony--save yourself.
+   God grant you ne'er have reason to repent
+   Of what you've done for her!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Impossible!
+   That cannot be. Fear not.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                               Alas! alas!
+   These Patriarchs and Templars----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Cannot work
+   Such evil as to force me to repent.
+   But are you sure it is a Templar who
+   Urges the Patriarch?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                            It is none else;
+   A Templar talked with him just now, and all
+   I hear confirms the rumour.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               But there is
+   Only one Templar in Jerusalem,
+   And him I know. He is a friend of mine,
+   A noble, open-hearted youth.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                  The same.
+   But what one is at heart, and what one must
+   Appear in active life, are not the same.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Alas! 'tis true. And so let every one
+   Act as he will, and do his best, or worst.
+   With your book, brother, I defy them all!
+   I'm going straightway with it to the Sultan.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Then God be with you! Here I take my leave.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What! without seeing her? But come again,
+   Come soon--come often. If the Patriarch
+   To-day learns nothing. Well! no matter now!
+   Tell him the whole to-day, or when you will.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Not I. Farewell!                                (_Exit_.)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Do not forget us, brother!
+   O God! I could sink down upon my knees,
+   Here on this spot! Behold, the knotted skein
+   Which has so often troubled me, at last
+   Untangles of itself. I feel at ease,
+   Since henceforth nothing in this world remains
+   That I need hide. Henceforth, I am as free
+   Before mankind, as in the sight of God.
+   Who only does not need to judge us men
+   By deeds, which oftentimes are not our own.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       Nathan _and the_ Templar.
+
+          (_The latter advancing towards him from the side_.)
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Hold, Nathan, hold! Take me along with you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who calls? You, Templar! Where can you have been
+   That you could not be met with at the Sultan's?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   We missed each other; do not be displeased.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Not I, but Saladin.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              You had just gone.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Oh, then, you spoke with him. I'm satisfied.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Yes; but he wants to talk with us together.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   So much the better. Come with me; I go
+   Direct to him.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                   Say, Nathan, may I ask
+   Who left you even now?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            What! don't you know?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Was it that worthy fellow, the good friar,
+   Whom the old Patriarch employs at will
+   To work his ends?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       The same--the very same.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   'Tis a prime hit to make simplicity
+   The workman of deceit.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Yes, if he use
+   The fool, and not the pious man.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       This last
+   The Patriarch ne'er trusts.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 Depend on this,
+   That man will not assist the Patriarch
+   To a wicked end.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Well, so I think myself.
+   But has he told you aught of me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Of you?
+   He scarcely knows your name.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                     That's like enough.
+
+                                 NATHAN.
+
+   He spoke to me about a Templar, who----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Who what?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+               But then he never mentioned you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Who knows? Come tell me, Nathan, all he said.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who has accused me to the Patriarch?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Accused you! With his leave, that is untrue.
+   No! Hear me, Nathan! I am not the man
+   E'er to deny my actions. What I've done
+   I've done--and there's an end. Nor am I one
+   Who would maintain that all I've done is right.
+   But should one fault condemn me? Am I not
+   Resolved on better deeds for time to come?
+   And who is ignorant how much the man
+   Who wills it may improve? Then hear me, Nathan:
+   I am the Templar talked of by the Friar,
+   Who has accused--you know what maddened me,
+   What set my blood on fire within my veins--
+   Fool that I was! I had almost resolved
+   To fling myself both soul and body, straight
+   Into your arms. But how was I received?
+   How did you meet me, Nathan? Cold--or worse.
+   Lukewarm--far worse than cold. With cautious words,
+   Well weighed and measured, Nathan, you took care
+   To put me off, and with calm questions, asked
+   About my parentage, and God knows what,
+   You sought to meet my suit. I cannot now
+   Dwell on it and be patient. Hear me further.
+   While in this ferment, Daja suddenly
+   Drew near to me and whispered in my ear
+   A secret which cleared up the mystery.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What was it?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  Hear me to the end. I thought
+   The treasure you had from the Christians stolen,
+   You would not promptly to a Christian yield;
+   And so the project struck me, with good speed,
+   To bring you to extremities.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Good speed?
+   Good, good? pray where's the good!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   But hear me out.
+   I own my error; you are free from guilt;
+   That prating Daja knows not what she says.
+   She's hostile to you, and she seeks to twine
+   A dangerous snare around you. Be it so.
+   I'm but a crazed enthusiast, doubly mad,
+   Aiming at far too much, or much too little.
+   That may be also true. Forgive me, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you conceive thus of me----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Well, in short.
+   I saw the Patriarch--but named you not.
+   'Twas false to say so, for I only told
+   The case in general terms, to sound his mind.
+   And that I also might have left undone,
+   For knew I not the Patriarch to be
+   An arrant, subtle knave? And might I not
+   As well have told you all the case at first?
+   Or was it right in me to risk the loss
+   Of such a father to the hapless maid?
+   But what has happened now? The Patriarch,
+   Ever consistent in his villainy,
+   Has all at once restored me to myself.
+   For hear me, Nathan, hear me! Were he now
+   To learn your name, what more could then occur?
+   He cannot seize the maid, if she belong
+   To some one else, and not to you alone.
+   'Tis from your house alone she can be dragged
+   Into a convent: grant her, then, I pray,
+   Grant her to me! Then come the Patriarch!
+   He'll hardly dare to take my wife from me.
+   Oh! give her to me. Be she yours or not--
+   Your daughter--Christian--Jewess--'tis all one--
+   Or be she nothing--I will ne'er inquire,
+   Or in my lifetime ask you what she is,
+   'Tis all alike to me.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Do you then think
+   That to conceal the truth I am compelled?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   No matter.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                I have ne'er denied the truth
+   To you, or any one whom it concerned
+   To know the fact, that she's of Christian birth,
+   And that the maid is my adopted child.
+   Why I have not informed her of the truth,
+   I need explain to none but to herself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Nathan; no need of that, it were not well
+   That she should see you in a different light;
+   Then spare her the discovery. As yet
+   She's yours alone--no other's--to bestow.
+   Then grant her to me, Nathan, I implore--
+   Grant her to me: I only, I alone,
+   Can rescue her a second time--and will.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, you could once have saved her, but alas!
+   'Tis now too late.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Too late! ah! say not so.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Thanks to the Patriarch.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                            Why, thanks to him?
+   Why should we thank the Patriarch! For what?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   That now we know her relatives, and know
+   Into whose hands Recha may be restored.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Let him give thanks who shall have better cause
+   To thank him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    But you must receive her now
+   From other hands than mine.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   Alas, poor maid!
+   O hapless Recha! what has chanced to thee,
+   That what to other orphans had appeared
+   A real blessing, is to thee a curse!
+   But, Nathan, where are these new relatives?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Where are they?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Ay, both where and who are they?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Her brother is discovered, and to him
+   You must address yourself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  Her brother! Ha!
+   And what is he--a soldier or a priest?
+   Tell me at once what I've to hope from him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I hear he's neither--or he's both. As yet
+   I do not know him thoroughly.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    What more?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He is a gallant fellow, and with him
+   Recha may be content.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                          But he's a Christian.
+   At times I know not what to make of you.
+   Take it not ill, good Nathan, that I ask,
+   Must she not henceforth play the Christian,
+   Associate with Christians, and at last
+   Become the character she long has played?
+   Will not the tares at length grow up and choke
+   The pure wheat you have sown? And does not that
+   Affect you? Yet you say she'll be content
+   When with her brother.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               As I think and hope.
+   For should she e'er have need of anything,
+   Has she not you and me?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           What can she need
+   When with her brother. Gladly he'll provide
+   His dear new sister with a thousand robes,
+   With dainties, and with toys and finery.
+   And what could any sister wish for more--
+   Unless, perhaps, a husband? And him too,
+   Him too the brother, in due time, will find;
+   And the more Christian he, the better!--Nathan,
+   How sad to think the angel you have formed,
+   Should now be marred by others!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                         Be assured
+   He'll always prove deserving of our love.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Nay speak not so; of my love, speak not so,
+   For it can brook no loss, however small,
+   Not e'en a name. But, hold! Has she as yet
+   Any suspicion of these late events?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   'Tis possible, and yet I know not how.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   It matters not; she must, in either case,
+   First learn from me what fate is threat'ning her.
+   My purpose not to speak with her again,
+   And ne'er to see her more, till I should call
+   Your Recha mine, is gone. I take my leave.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Nay, whither would you go?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  At once to her,
+   To learn if she be bold enough at heart,
+   To fix upon the only course that now
+   Is worthy of her.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Name it.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  It is this:
+   That henceforth she should never care to know
+   Aught of her brother or of you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    What more?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   To follow me--even if it were her fate
+   To wed a Mussulman.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          Stay, Templar, stay!
+   You will not find her. She's with Sittah now,
+   The Sultan's sister.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         Wherefore, and since when?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you desire to see her brother, come,
+   Follow me straight.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                          Her brother, say you? Whose?
+   Recha's, or Sittah's?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Both--ay, both, perhaps.
+   But come this way, I pray you. Come with me.
+                           (Nathan _leads the_ Templar _away_.)
+
+
+                      Scene VI.--Sittah's _harem_.
+
+             Sittah _and_ Recha _engaged in conversation_.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   How I am pleased with you, sweet girl. But, come,
+   Shake off these fears, and be no more alarmed,
+   Be happy, cheerful. Let me hear you talk.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Princess!
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Nay, child, not princess! Call me friend,
+   Or Sittah--or your sister--or dear mother,
+   For I might well be so to you--so good,
+   So prudent, and so young! How much you know,
+   How much you must have read!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       Read, Sittah! now
+   You're mocking me, for I can scarcely read.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Scarce read, you young deceiver!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                      Yes, perhaps
+   My father's hand; I thought you spoke of books.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   And so I did--of books.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           They puzzle me
+   To read.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+            Indeed!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                      I speak, in veriest truth.
+   My father hates book-learning, which he says,
+   Makes an impression only on the brain
+   With lifeless letters.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                          Well, he's right in that.
+   And so the greater part of what you know----
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   I've learnt from his own mouth, and I can tell
+   The when, the where, and why he taught it me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   So it clings closer, and the soul drinks in
+   The full instruction.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           Yes, and Sittah, too,
+   Has not read much.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                        How so? I am not vain
+   Of having read, and yet why say you so?
+   Speak boldly. Tell the reason.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       She's so plain--
+   So free from artifice--so like herself.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+           And my father says 'tis rarely books
+   Work that effect.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                    Oh, what a man he is,
+   Dear Recha!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                 Is he not?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                           He never fails
+   To hit the mark.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                    Yes, yes; and yet this father----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   What ails you, love?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        This father----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                      Oh my God!
+   You're weeping.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+                     And this father--it must forth--
+   My heart wants room, wants room----
+                  (_Throws herself in tears at_ Sittah's _feet_.)
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                       What ails you, Recha?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Yes, I must lose this father!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                             Lose him--never!
+   Why so? Be calm. Courage! it must not be.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Your offer to be friend and sister to me
+   Will now not be in vain.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 Yes, I am both.
+   Arise, arise, or I must call for help.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   O pardon! I forget, through agony,
+   With whom I speak. Tears, sobbing, and despair
+   Are naught with Sittah. Reason, calm and cool,
+   Is over her alone omnipotent.
+   No other argument avails with her.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well, then?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                My friend and sister, suffer not
+   Another father to be forced on me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Another father to be forced on you!
+   Who can do that, or wish to do it, love?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Who but my good, my evil genius, Daja?
+   She can both wish it and perform the deed.
+   You do not know this good, this evil Daja.
+   May God forgive her, and reward her, too,
+   For she has done me good and evil, both.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Evil? Then she has little goodness left.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh, she has much.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                      Who is she?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                     Who? a Christian,
+   Who cared for me in childhood's early years.
+   You cannot know how little she allowed
+   That I should miss a mother's tender cares--
+   May God reward her for it!--but she has
+   Worried and tortured me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 Wherefore, and how?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Poor woman, she's a Christian, and from love
+   Has tortured me: a warm enthusiast,
+   Who thinks she only knows the real road
+   That leads to God.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                       I understand you now.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   And one of those who feel in duty bound
+   To point it out to every one who strays
+   From the plain path, to lead, to drag them in.
+   And who can censure them? for if the road
+   They travel is the only one that's safe,
+   They cannot, without pain, behold their friends
+   Pursue a path that lead to endless woe,
+   Else, at the self-same time, 'twere possible
+   To love and hate another. Nor does this
+   Alone compel me to complain aloud.
+   Her groans, her prayers, her warnings, and her threats
+   I could have borne much longer willingly.
+   They always called up good and wholesome thoughts.
+   Who is not flattered to be held so dear,
+   And precious by another, that the thought
+   Of parting pierces him with lasting pain?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   This is most true.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                      And yet this goes too far,
+   And I have nothing to oppose to it--
+   Patience, reflection, nothing.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                   How? to what?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   To what she has disclosed to me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                      Say, when?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   'Tis scarce an instant. Coming hither
+   We passed a Christian temple on our way;
+   She all at once stood still, seemed inly moved,
+   Raised her moist eyes to heaven, then looked on me.
+   "Come," she exclaimed at length, "come straight on here,
+   Through this old fane." She leads, I follow her.
+   My eyes with horror overrun the dim
+   And tottering ruin: all at once she stops
+   By a low ruined altar's sunken steps.
+   O, how I felt, when there, with streaming eyes
+   And wringing hands, down at my feet she fell!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Good child!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+               And, by the Holy Virgin, who had heard
+   So many suppliants' prayers, and had performed
+   Full many a wonder there, she begged, implored
+   With looks of heart-felt sympathy and love,
+   That I would now take pity on myself,
+   And pardon her for daring to unfold
+   The nature of the Church's claims on me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   I guessed as much.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        I'm born of Christian blood,
+   Have been baptised, and am not Nathan's child!
+   Nathan is not my father! God, O God!
+   He's not my father, Sittah! Now, behold,
+   I'm once more prostrate at your feet.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                        Arise!
+   Recha, arise! behold, my brother comes.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Saladin, Sittah, _and_ Recha.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What is the matter, Sittah?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                    She has swooned.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Who is she?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                  Don't you know?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    'Tis Nathan's child.
+   What ails her?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                    Look up, Recha! 'tis the Sultan.
+
+                 RECHA (_crawling to Saladin's feet_).
+
+   No, I'll not rise--not rise nor even look
+   Upon the Sultan's countenance, nor wonder
+   At the bright lustre of unchanging truth
+   And goodness on his brow and in his eye,
+   Before----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+          Rise, rise!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           Before he promises----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Come, come! I promise, whatsoe'er your prayer.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   'Tis only this--to leave my father to me,
+   And me to him. As yet I cannot tell
+   Who seeks to be my father: who it is
+   Can harbour such a wish I'll ne'er inquire.
+   Does blood alone make fathers--blood alone?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Who can have been so cruel as to raise
+   This dire suspicion in my Recha's breast?
+   Say, is it proved? beyond all doubt made clear?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   'Tis proved, for Daja had it from my nurse,
+   Whose dying lips entrusted it to her.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Dying! she raved. And even were it true,
+   A father is not made by blood alone;
+   Scarcely the father of a savage beast--
+   Blood only gives the right to earn the name.
+   Then fear no more, but hear me. If there be
+   Two fathers who contend for thee, leave both,
+   And claim a third! O! take me for your father!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Oh, do so, Recha, do so!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                            I will be
+   A good, kind father to you. But, in truth
+   A better thought occurs. Why should you need
+   Two fathers? They are mortal, and must die.
+   'Twere better, Recha, to look out betimes
+   For one to start with you on equal terms,
+   And stake his life for thine. You understand?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   You make her blush!
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                          Why that was half my scheme.
+   Blushing becomes plain features, and will make
+   A beauteous cheek more beauteous. My commands
+   Are giv'n to bring your father, Nathan, here.
+   Another comes as well. You'll guess his name?
+   Hither they come! Will you allow it, Sittah?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Brother!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+               And when he comes, maid, you must blush
+   To crimson.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                Sittah! wherefore should I blush?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You young dissembler, you will else grow pale!
+   But as thou wilt and canst. (_A female slave enters, and approaches_
+          Sittah.) What, here so soon?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well, let them enter. Brother, here they are!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+             Nathan, _the_ Templar, _and the others_.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Welcome, my dear good friends! Nathan, to you
+   I must first mention, you may send and fetch
+   Your moneys when you will.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                                 Sultan----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                                      And now
+   I'm at your service.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Sultan----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    For my gold
+   Is now arrived; the caravan is safe:
+   These many years I have not been so rich.
+   Now, tell me what you wish for, to achieve
+   Some splendid speculation? You in trade,
+   Like us, have never too much ready cash.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why speak about this trifle first? I see
+   An eye in tears (_going towards_ Recha). My Recha, you
+        have wept.
+   What have you lost? Are you not still my child?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   My father!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                That's enough! We're understood
+   By one another! But look up--be calm,
+   Be cheerful! If your heart is still your own,
+   And if no threatened loss disturb your breast,
+   Your father is not lost to you!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                    None, none!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   None! Then I'm much deceived. What we don't fear
+   To lose, we ne'er have loved, and ne'er have wished
+   To be possessed of. But 'tis well, 'tis well!
+   Nathan, this changes all! At your command,
+   We come here, Sultan. You have been misled
+   By me, and I will trouble you no more!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Rash, headlong youth! Must every temper yield
+   To yours!--and must we all thus guess your mind?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But, Sultan, you have heard and seen it all.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well, truly, it was awkward to be thus
+   Uncertain of your cause!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              I know my fate.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Whoe'er presumes upon a service done,
+   Cancels the benefit. What you have saved
+   Is, therefore, not your own. Or else the thief,
+   Urged by mere avarice through flaming halls,
+   Were like yourself a hero. (_Advancing towards_ Recha _to
+        lead her to the_ Templar.) Come, sweet maid!
+   Be not reserved towards him. Had he been so,
+   Were he less warm, less proud, he had held back,
+   And had not saved you. Weigh the former deed
+   Against the latter, and you'll make him blush!
+   Do what he should have done! confess your love!
+   Make him your offer! and if he refuse,
+   Or e'er forget how infinitely more
+   You do for him than he has done for you--
+   For what, in fact, have been his services,
+   Save soiling his complexion? a mere sport--
+   Else has he nothing of my Assad in him,
+   But only wears his mask. Come, lovely maid.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Go, dearest, go! this step is not enough
+   For gratitude; it is too little.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Hold!
+   Hold, Saladin! hold, Sittah!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                            What would you?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   It is the duty of another now
+   To speak.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        Who questions that? Beyond all doubt
+   A foster--father has a right to vote
+   First, if you will. You see I know the whole.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Not quite. I speak not, Sultan, of myself.
+   There is another and a different man
+   Whom I must first confer with, Saladin.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And who is he?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    Her brother.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                  Recha's brother?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   E'en so.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+             My brother! Have I then a brother?
+
+      TEMPLAR (_starting from his silent and sullen inattention_).
+
+   Where is this brother? Not yet here! 'Twas here
+   I was to meet him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Patience yet awhile.
+
+                          TEMPLAR (_bitterly_).
+
+   He has imposed a father on the girl;
+   He'll find a brother for her now!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Indeed,
+   That much was wanting. But this mean rebuke,
+   Christian, had ne'er escaped my Assad's lips.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Forgive him: I forgive him readily.
+   Who knows what in his youth and in his place
+   We might ourselves have thought? (_Approaching him in
+        a very friendly manner_) Suspicion, knight,
+   Follows upon reserve. Had you at first
+   Vouchsafed to me your real name----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       How! what!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   You are no Stauffen.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                          Tell me who I am.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Conrad of Stauffen, not.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+                              Then what's my name?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Leo of Filneck.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              How?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    You start!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                                With reason.
+   But who says this?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    I, who can tell you more.
+   Meanwhile, observe, I tax you not with falsehood.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+            It may be both names fit you well.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I think so. (_Aside_) God inspired him with that thought.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Your mother was a Stauffen: and her brother
+   (The uncle to whose care you were consigned,
+   When, by the rigour of the climate chased,
+   Your parents quitted Germany, to seek
+   This land once more) was Conrad. He, perhaps,
+   Adopted you as his own son and heir.
+   Is it long since you travelled hither with him?
+   Does he still live?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       What shall I answer him?
+   He speaks the truth. Nathan, 'tis so indeed;
+   But he himself is dead. I journeyed here,
+   With the last troops of knights, to reinforce
+   Our order. But inform me how this tale
+   Concerns your Recha's brother.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   Well, your father----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What! did you know him too?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   He was my friend.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Your friend! Oh, Nathan, is it possible?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Oluf of Filneck did he style himself;
+   But he was not a German.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             You know that?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He had espoused a German, and he lived
+   For some, time with your mother there.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                           No more
+   Of this, I beg. But what of Recha's brother?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   It is yourself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                     What, I? am I her brother?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   He, my brother?
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     Are they so near akin?
+
+                   RECHA (_approaching the_ Templar).
+
+   My brother!
+
+                       TEMPLAR (_stepping back_).
+
+                I, your brother?
+
+               RECHA (_stopping and turning to Nathan_).
+
+                                  No, in truth,
+   It cannot be. His heart makes no response.
+   O God! we are deceivers.
+
+                      SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
+
+                                Say you so?
+   Is that your thought? All is deceit in you:
+   The voice, the gesture, and the countenance,
+   Nothing of these is yours. How! will you not
+   Acknowledge such a sister? Then begone!
+
+                  TEMPLAR (_approaching him humbly_).
+
+   Oh! do not misinterpret my surprise.
+   Sultan, you never saw your Assad's heart
+   At any time like this. Then do not err,
+   Mistake not him and me. (_Turning to_ Nathan.) You give
+        me much,
+   Nathan, and also you take much away,
+   And yet you give me more than you withdraw--
+   Ay, infinitely more. My sister, sister! (_embraces_ Recha.)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Blanda of Filneck.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                     Blanda, ha! not Recha?
+   Your Recha now no more! Have you resigned
+   Your child? Give her her Christian name once more,
+   And for my sake discard her then. Oh, Nathan,
+   Why must she suffer for a fault of mine?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What mean you, oh, my children, both of you?
+   For sure my daughter's brother is my child
+   Whenever he shall wish.
+   (_While they embrace_ Nathan, Saladin _uneasily approaches_
+                          Sittah.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              What say you, sister? Sittah.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   I'm deeply moved----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        And I half tremble when
+   I think of the emotion that must come:
+   Prepare yourself to bear it as you may.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   What! How!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  Nathan, a word--one word with you.
+   (_He joins_ Nathan, _while_ Sittah _approaches the others to
+         express her sympathy, and_ Nathan _and_ Saladin _converse
+         in a low tone_.)
+
+   Hear, hear me, Nathan. Said you not just now
+   That he----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+             That who?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                      Her father was not born
+   In Germany. You know then whence he came?
+   And what he was?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                     He never told me that.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Was he no Frank, nor from the Western land?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He said as much. He spoke the Persian tongue.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   The Persian! need I more? 'Tis he! 'twas he!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+         Assad, my brother Assad, beyond doubt.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you think so, then be assured from this:
+   Look in this book (_handing him the breviary_).
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        Oh, 'tis his hand! once more
+   I recognise it.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       They know naught of this:
+   It rests with you to tell them all the truth.
+
+          SALADIN (_turning over the leaves of the breviary_).
+
+   They are my brother's children. Shall I not
+   Acknowledge them and claim them? Or shall I
+   Abandon them to you? (_Speaking aloud_.) Sittah, they are
+   The children of my brother and of yours. (_Rushes to
+        embrace them_.)
+
+                   SITTAH (_following his example_).
+
+   What do I hear? Could it be otherwise?
+
+                      SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
+
+   Proud youth! from this time forward you are bound
+   To love me. (_To_ Recha.) And henceforth, without your
+        leave
+   Or with it, I am what I vowed to be.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   And so am I.
+
+                      SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
+
+   My son! my Assad's son!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I of your blood! Then those were more than dreams
+   With which they used to lull my infancy--
+                               (_Falls at_ Sultan's _feet_.)
+
+                        SALADIN (_raising him_).
+
+   There, mark the rascal! though he knew something
+   Of what has chanced, he was content that I
+   Should have become his murderer! Beware.
+   (_The curtain falls whilst they repeatedly embrace each
+                          other in silence_.)
+
+
+
+                             END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+      LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET
+                           AND CHARING CROSS.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                       York Street, Covent Garden,
+                                                 _November_, 1877.
+
+
+
+                                   A
+
+                          CLASSIFIED CATALOGUE
+
+                                   OF
+
+                             SELECTED WORKS
+
+                              PUBLISHED BY
+
+                         GEORGE BELL AND SONS.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+                               CONTENTS:
+
+Travel and Archĉology          1    |     Poetry and Drama      11
+Biography--History           2,4    |     Law and Reference     14
+Philosophy                     5    |     Natural History       15
+Theology                       6    |     Art and Ornament      16
+Standard Prose                10    |     Young People          18
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+                        _TRAVEL AND ARCHEOLOGY_.
+
+ANCIENT ATHENS; its History, Topography, and Remains. By T. H. Dyer,
+LL.D. Super-royal 8vo. copiously Illustrated. 1_l_. 5_s_.
+
+'Dr. Dyer's volume will be a work of reference to the student
+of Greek History and literature, of the greatest interest and
+value.'--_Spectator_.
+
+DESERT OF THE EXODUS. Journeys on Foot in the Wilderness of the Forty
+Years' Wanderings, undertaken in connexion with the Ordnance Survey of
+Sinai and the Palestine Exploration Fund. By E. H. Palmer, M.A., Lord
+Almoner's Professor of Arabic, and Fellow of St. John's College,
+Cambridge. With Maps and numerous Illustrations. 2 vols. 8vo. 1_l_.
+8_s_.
+
+'A work which the biblical student will highly prize for the strong
+light which it sheds upon a most important portion of Scripture
+history, but which cannot be read without interest and delight by every
+one who is capable of taking an intelligent interest in manners and
+customs widely removed from our own.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+HISTORY OF EGYPT. From the Earliest Times till its Conquest by the
+Arabs, A.D. 640. By S. Sharpe. With numerous Illustrations, Maps, &c.
+6th Edition. 2 vols. post 8vo. 10_s_.
+
+NINEVEH AND ITS PALACES. By J. Bonomi, F.R.S.L. New Edition, revised
+and considerably enlarged. With upwards of 300 Engravings. Post 8vo.
+5_s_.
+
+HISTORY OF POMPEII: its Buildings and Antiquities. An Account of the
+City, with full description of the Remains and Recent Excavations, and
+also an Itinerary for Visitors. By T. H. Dyer, LL.D. With nearly 300
+Wood Engravings, a large Map, and a Plan of the Forum. 4th Edition,
+bringing the work down to 1874. Post 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+ROME AND THE CAMPAGNA. A Historical and Topographical Description of
+the Site, Buildings and Neighbourhood of ancient Rome. By the Rev. R.
+Burn, late Fellow and Tutor of Trinity College, Cambridge. With 85
+Engravings by Jewitt, and numerous Maps and Plans. An Appendix and
+additional Plan illustrating recent Excavations have lately been added.
+Demy 4to. 3_l_. 3_s_.
+
+
+                              _BIOGRAPHY_.
+
+BARBAULD (MRS.) A Memoir of, including Letters and Notices of her
+Family and Friends. By her great-niece, Anna Letitia Le Breton. With
+Portrait. Demy 12mo. 5_s_.
+
+BOSWELL'S JOHNSON, and JOHNSONIANA. Including his Tour to the Hebrides,
+Tour in Wales, &c. Edited, with large Additions and Notes, by the Rt.
+Hon. J. W. Croker. The second and most complete Copyright Edition, with
+upwards of 40 Engravings on Steel. Post 8vo. 5 vols. 20_s_.
+
+BRYAN. A Biographical and Critical Dictionary of Painters and
+Engravers. With a List of Ciphers, Monograms, and Marks. By M. Bryan. A
+New Edition by G. Stanley. Imp. 8vo. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+---- A SUPPLEMENT of RECENT and LIVING PAINTERS. By H. Ottley. Imp.
+8vo. 12_s_.
+
+COLERIDGE (S. T.) Biographia Literaria, and two Lay Sermons. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+COOPER (THOMPSON). A New Biographical Dictionary. By T. Cooper, F.S.A.
+1 vol. 8vo. 12_s_.
+
+FOSTER (JOHN), The Life of. 2 vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+GOETHE, Autobiography of (Wahrheit und Dichtung aus Meinem Leben). 2
+vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+GOETHE. Conversations with Eckermann and Soret. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+GOETHE. Correspondence with Schiller. 2 vols. post 8vo. 7_s_.
+
+GOLDSMITH (O.) The Life of, together with The Sketch-Book. By
+Washington Irving. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. The Life alone, in paper
+wrapper, 1_s_. 6_d_.
+
+IRVING (W.) Life and Letters. By his Nephew, P. E. Irving. In 2 vols.
+post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+LUTHER, Michelet's Life of. Translated by W. Hazlitt. Post 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+MAHOMET AND HIS SUCCESSORS. By Washington Irving. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+MICHAEL ANGELO AND RAPHAEL, their Lives and Works. By Duppa and
+Quatremere de Quincy. With 13 Engravings on Steel. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+NELSON, The Life of. By R. Southey. With additional Notes and numerous
+Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+RICHTER (J. P. F.) Autobiography and short Memoir, with the _Levana_.
+Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WASHINGTON, The Life of. By W. Irving. With Portrait. In 4 vols. post
+8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+WELLINGTON, The Life of. By An Old Soldier, from the materials of
+Maxwell. Eighteen Engravings. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+WESLEY (JOHN), The Life of. By R. Southey. New and Complete Edition.
+With Portrait. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+
+                   _By the late Sir A. Helps, K.C.B._
+
+BRASSEY (T.) The Life and Labours of the late. With Illustrations. 5th
+Edition, 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+HERNANDO CORTES, The Life of, and The CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 2 vols. Crown
+8vo. 15_s_.
+
+COLUMBUS, The Life of. The Discoverer of America. 5th Edition. Crown
+8vo. 6_s_.
+
+PIZARRO, The Life of. With Some Account of his Associates in the
+Conquest of Peru. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+LAS CASAS, The Life of, the Apostle of the Indies. 3rd Edition. Crown
+8vo. 6_s_.
+
+
+                              _HISTORY_.
+
+MODERN EUROPE, from the Fall of Constantinople to the Founding of the
+German Empire, A.D. 1453-1871. By Thomas Henry Dyer, LL.D. 2nd Edition,
+revised throughout and continued by the Author. In 5 vols. demy 8vo.
+2_l_. 12_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KINGS OF ROME, History of the. By T. Dyer, LL.D. With a Prefatory
+Dissertation on the Sources and Evidences of Early Roman History. Demy
+8vo. 16_s_.
+
+'It will mark or help to mark an era in the history of the subject to
+which it is devoted. It is one of the most decided as well as one of
+the ablest results of the reaction which is now in progress against the
+influence of Niebuhr.'--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+DECLINE OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC. From the Destruction of Carthage to the
+Consulship of Julius Cĉsar. By George Long, M.A. 5 vols. 8vo. 14_s_.
+per vol.
+
+'If any one can guide us through the almost inextricable mazes of this
+labyrinth, it is Mr. Long. As a chronicler, he possesses all the
+requisite knowledge, and what is nearly, if not quite as important, the
+necessary caution. He never attempts to explain that which is
+hopelessly corrupt or obscure: he does not confound twilight with
+daylight; he warns the reader repeatedly that he is standing on shaking
+ground; he has no framework of theory into which he presses his
+facts.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+LIFE OF THE EMPEROR KARL THE GREAT. Translated from the contemporary
+History Of Eginhard, with Notes and Chapters on Eginhard--the
+Franks--Karl--and the Breaking-up of the Empire. With a Map. By William
+Glaister, M.A., B.C.L., University College, Oxford. Crown 8vo. 4_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+HISTORY OF ENGLAND, during the Early and Middle Ages. By C. H. Pearson,
+M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. 2nd Edition, much enlarged. Vol.
+I. 8vo. 16_s_. Vol. II. 8vo. 14_s_.
+
+HISTORICAL MAPS OF ENGLAND during the first Thirteen Centuries. With
+Explanatory Essays and Indices. By C. H. Pearson, M.A. Imp. folio. 2nd
+Edition. 31_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE BARONS' WAR. Including the Battles of Lewes and Evesham. By W. H.
+Blaauw, M.A. 2nd Edition, with Additions and Corrections by C. H.
+Pearson, M.A. Demy 8vo. 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THIRTY YEARS' PEACE, 1815-45, A History of the. By Harriet Martineau. 4
+vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+QUEENS OF ENGLAND, from the Norman Conquest to the Reign of Queen Anne.
+By Agnes Strickland. Library Edition, with Portraits, Autographs, and
+Vignettes, 8 vols. post 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_. each. Cheap Edition, 6 vols.
+5_s_. each.
+
+MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, The Life of. By A. Strickland. 2 vols. post 8vo.
+cloth gilt, 11_s_.
+
+
+                             _PHILOSOPHY_.
+
+ELEMENTS OF THOUGHT. By Isaac Taylor, Post 8vo. 4_s_.
+
+HOME EDUCATION. By the same Author. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+ELEMENTS OF MORALITY, including Polity. By W. Whewell, D.D. 4th
+Edition. In 1 vol. 8vo. 15_s_.
+
+MORAL PHILOSOPHY. Lectures on the History of, in England. By W.
+Whewell, D.D. Crown 8vo. 8_s_.
+
+MANUAL OF HUMAN CULTURE. By M. A. Garvey, LL.B. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+LOCKE. PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS, containing an Essay on the Human
+Understanding, &c., with Notes and Index by J. A. St. John. Portrait.
+In 2 vols. Post 8vo. 7_s_.
+
+INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF EUROPE. A History of the. By J. W. Draper,
+M.D., LL.D. 2 vols. Post 8vo. 10_s_.
+
+COMTE'S PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES. Edited by G. H. Lewes. Post 8vo.
+5_s_.
+
+KANT. CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON. Translated by J. M. D. Meiklejohn. Post
+8vo. 5_s_.
+
+HEGEL. LECTURES ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY. Translated by J. Sibree,
+M.A. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+
+                              _THEOLOGY_.
+
+ARTICLES OF RELIGION, History of the. To which is added a Series of
+Documents from A.D. 1536 to A.D. 1615. Together with Illustrations from
+contemporary sources. By the late C. Hardwick, M.A., Archdeacon of Ely.
+3rd Edition. Revised by the Rev. F. Procter, M.A., Author of 'A History
+of the Book of Common Prayer,' with additional matter. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+THE CREEDS, History of. By J. Rawson Lumby, M.A., Tyrwhitt's Hebrew
+Scholar, Crosse Divinity Scholar. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+PEARSON (BP.) ON THE CREED. Carefully printed from an Early Edition.
+With Analysis and Index. Edited by E. Walford, M.A. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+COMMON PRAYER. Historical and Explanatory Treatise on the Book of.
+By W. G. Humphry, B.D., Prebendary of St. Paul's and Vicar of St.
+Martin-in-the-Fields. 5th Edition, revised and enlarged. Fcap. 8vo.
+4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+COMMON PRAYER, Rational Illustrations of the Book of. By C. Wheatly,
+M.A. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+AN INTRODUCTION TO THE OLD TESTAMENT. By F. Bleek. Translated from the
+German by G. H. Venables, under the supervision of the Rev. E.
+Venables. In 2 vols. 10_s_.
+
+COMPANION TO THE GREEK TESTAMENT. For the use of Theological Students
+and the Upper Forms in Schools. By A. C. Barrett, M.A., Caius College.
+3rd Edition, enlarged and improved. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+          _By F. H. Scrivener, D.C.L., Prebendary of Exeter_.
+
+NOVUM TESTAMENTUM GRĈCUM, TEXTUS STEPHANICI, 1550. Accedunt variĉ
+lectiones editionum Bezĉ, Elzeviri, Lachmanni, Tischendorfii, et
+Tregellesii. 16mo. 4_s_. 6_d_. With wide Margin for Notes, 4to. 12_s_.
+
+A PLAIN INTRODUCTION TO THE CRITICISM OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. With 40
+Facsimiles from Ancient Manuscripts. Containing also an Account of the
+Egyptian Versions by Canon Lightfoot, D.D. For the Use of Biblical
+Students. New Edition. Demy 8vo. 16_s_.
+
+SIX LECTURES ON THE TEXT OF THE NEW TESTAMENT and the ancient
+Manuscripts which contain it. Chiefly addressed to those who do not
+read Greek. With facsimiles from MSS. &c. Crown 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+BOOK OF PSALMS; a New Translation, with Introductions and Notes,
+Critical and Explanatory. By the Rev. J. J. Stewart Perowne, D.D.,
+Canon Residentiary of Llandaff, and Hulsean Professor of Divinity,
+Cambridge. 8vo. Vol. I. 3rd Edition, 18_s_. Vol. II. 3rd Edition,
+16_s_. An abridged Edition for Schools and Private Students. Crown 8vo.
+10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+A COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPELS AND EPISTLES for the Sundays and other Holy
+Days of the Christian Year. By the Rev. W. Denton, A.M., Worcester
+College, Oxford, and Incumbent of St. Bartholomew's, Cripplegate. In 5
+vols. 18_s_. each.
+
+A COMMENTARY ON THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. In 2 vols. Vol. I. 18_s_.
+Vol. II. 14_s_. These Commentaries originated in Notes collected by the
+compiler to aid in the composition of expository sermons. They are
+derived from all available sources, and especially from the wide but
+little-known field of theological comment found in the 'Schoolmen' of
+the Middle Ages. They are recommended to the notice of young Clergymen,
+who frequently, while inexperienced, are called upon to preach to
+educated and intelligent congregations.
+
+BIBLE-ENGLISH. Chapters on Words and Phrases in the Authorized Version
+of the Holy Scriptures and the Book of Common Prayer, no longer in
+common use; illustrated from contemporaneous writers. By the Rev. T.
+Lewis O. Davies, M.A., Vicar of St. Mary Extra, Southampton. Small
+crown 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+'Everyone who takes an interest in the history of the English Language,
+and indeed everyone who is not absolutely inattentive to the words
+spoken around him, may turn to Mr. Davies's little book with the
+certainty of finding both useful information and agreeable
+entertainment in its pages.'--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST; in its Historical Connexion and Development. By
+A. Neander. From the 4th German Edition. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+LIFE AND EPISTLES OF ST. PAUL. By T. Lewin, Esq., M.A., F.S.A., Trinity
+College, Oxford, Barrister-at-law, Author of 'Fasti Sacri,' 'Siege of
+Jerusalem,' 'Cĉsar's Invasion,' 'Treatise on Trusts,' &c. With upwards
+of 350 Illustrations finely engraved on Wood, Maps, Plans, &c. In 2
+vols. 3rd Edition, revised. Demy 4to. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+'Nothing but a careful inspection of the work itself can give the
+reader an adequate idea of the thoroughness with which Mr. Lewin has
+carried out his plan--a plan which may be described as the giving of
+all information possibly attainable about every person or place
+connected directly or even indirectly with St. Paul.'--_Spectator_.
+
+FASTI SACRI; or, a Key to the Chronology of the New Testament. By the
+same Author. 4to. 21_s_.
+
+ANALOGY OF RELIGION, Natural and Revealed, and Sermons with Notes. By
+Bp. Butler. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+HOLY LIVING AND DYING. By Bp. Jeremy Taylor. With portrait. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THOMAS A KEMPIS. On the Imitation of Christ. A New Translation. By the
+Rt. Rev. H. Goodwin, Bishop of Carlisle. 3rd Edition. With fine Steel
+Engraving after Guido, 5_s_.; without the Engraving, 3_s_. 6_d_. Cheap
+Edition, 1_s_. cloth; 6_d_. sewed.
+
+                     _For Confirmation Candidates_.
+
+THE CHURCH TEACHER'S MANUAL OF CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTION. Being the Church
+Catechism expanded and explained in Question and Answer, for the use of
+Clergymen, Parents, and Teachers. By the Rev. M. F. Sadler. 16th
+Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It is impossible to overrate the service to religious instruction
+achieved by this compact and yet pregnant volume.... We owe many boons
+to Mr. Sadler, whose sermons and theological lectures and treatises
+have wrought much good in matters of faith. This Catechetical Manual is
+second to none of such.'--_English Churchman_.
+
+CATECHETICAL HINTS AND HELPS. A Manual for Parents and Teachers on
+giving Instruction in the Catechism of the Church of England. 3rd
+Edition, enlarged. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'Perhaps the most thoroughly _practical_ little book on its subject we
+have ever seen. Its explanations, its paraphrases, its questions, and
+the mass of information contained in its appendices, are not merely
+invaluable in themselves, but they are the information actually wanted
+for the purpose of the teaching contemplated. We do not wonder at its
+being in its third edition.'--_Literary Churchman_.
+
+THE WINTON CHURCH CATECHIST. Questions and Answers on the Teaching of
+the Church Catechism. 32mo. cloth, 3_s_. Also in Four Parts, 6_d_. or
+9_d_. each.
+
+LIFE AFTER CONFIRMATION. By J. S. Blunt. 18mo. 1_s_.
+
+CONFIRMATION DAY. Being a Book of Instruction for Young Persons how
+they ought to spend that solemn day. By the Rt. Rev. H. Goodwin, D.D.,
+Bp. of Carlisle. 8th Thousand. 2_d_., or 25 for 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+             _By the Rev. M. F. Sadler, Rector of Honiton_.
+
+THE ONE OFFERING; a Treatise on the Sacrificial Nature of the
+Eucharist. 3rd Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A treatise of singular clearness and force, which gives us what we did
+not really possess till it appeared.'--_Church Times_.
+
+'It is by far the most useful, trustworthy, and accurate book we have
+seen upon the subject.'--_Literary Churchman_.
+
+'The subject of the Holy Eucharist is ably and fully treated, and in a
+candid spirit, by Mr. Sadler in these pages.'--_English Churchman_.
+
+JUSTIFICATION OF LIFE: its Nature, Antecedents, and Consequences. Fcap.
+8vo.                                              [_In the press_.]
+
+THE LOST GOSPEL AND ITS CONTENTS; or, the Author of 'Supernatural
+Religion' Refuted by Himself. By Rev. M. F. Sadler, Rector of Honiton.
+Demy 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE SACRAMENT OF RESPONSIBILITY: or, Testimony of the Scripture to the
+Teaching of the Church on Holy Baptism. Fcap. 8vo. cloth, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+Also, Cheap Edition, 25th Thousand, fcap. 8vo. sewed, 6_d_.
+
+'An exceedingly valuable repertory of arguments on the questions it
+refers to.'--_English Churchman_.
+
+CHURCH DOCTRINE--BIBLE TRUTH. Fcap. 8vo. 18th Thousand, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'Some writers have the gift of speaking the right word at the right
+time, and the Rev. M. F. Sadler is pre-eminently one of them. "Church
+Doctrine--Bible Truth," is full of wholesome truths fit for these
+times.... He has power of putting his meaning in a forcible and
+intelligible way, which will, we trust, enable his valuable work to
+effect that which it is well calculated to effect, viz. to meet with an
+appropriate and crushing reply one of the most dangerous misbeliefs of
+the time.'--_Guardian_.
+
+THE SECOND ADAM AND THE NEW BIRTH; or, the Doctrine of Baptism as
+contained in Holy Scripture. Fcap. 8vo. 7th Edition, price 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'The most striking peculiarity of this useful little work is that its
+author argues almost exclusively from the Bible. We commend it most
+earnestly to clergy and laity, as containing in a small compass, and at
+a trifling cost, a body of sound and Scriptural doctrine respecting the
+New Birth, which cannot be too widely circulated.'--_Guardian_.
+
+PARISH SERMONS. Trinity to Advent. Fcap. 8vo. 2nd Edition, 6_s_.
+
+PLAIN SPEAKING ON DEEP TRUTHS. Sermons preached at St. Paul's Church,
+Bedford. Fcap. 8vo. 4th Edition, 6_s_.
+
+ABUNDANT LIFE, and other Sermons. Fcap. 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+THE COMMUNICANT'S MANUAL; being a Book of Self-examination, Prayer,
+Praise, and Thanksgiving. 8th Thousand. Royal 32mo. roan, gilt edges,
+price 2_s_.; cloth, 1_s_. 6_d_. Cheap Edition, for distribution, 25th
+Thousand, 8_d_. A larger Edition, on fine paper, and Rubrics. Fcap.
+8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.; morocco, 7_s_.
+
+SCRIPTURE TRUTHS. A Series of Ten Plain, Popular Tracts upon subjects
+now universally under discussion, 9_d_. per set, sold separately. No.
+1. Reasons for Infant Baptism. 2. On Eucharistic Worship. 3. On the
+Priesthood of the Christian Ministry. 4. On Confirmation. 5. Reasons
+for receiving the Holy Communion. 6. On the Doctrine of the Holy
+Communion. 7. On Baptism and Conversion. 8. Some Objections to
+receiving the Holy Communion considered. 9. On the First Truths of the
+Christian Faith. 10. On Faith and Justification.
+
+
+                        _STANDARD PROSE WORKS_.
+
+ADDISON. Works. With Notes by Bishop Hurd, and numerous unpublished
+Letters. With Portrait and eight steel Engravings. 6 vols. cloth, gilt,
+post 8vo. 4_s_. each.
+
+BACON'S (LORD) ESSAYS AND HISTORICAL WORKS, with Introduction and Notes
+by J. Devey, M.A. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+BURKE. Works. In 8 vols. post 8vo. cloth, gilt, 4_s_. each.
+
+COLERIDGE (S. T.) THE FRIEND. A Series of Essays on Morals, Politics,
+and Religion. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+COLERIDGE (S. T.) BIOGRAPHIA LITERARIA, and Two Lay Sermons. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+CRAIK (G. L.) THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. Illustrated.
+Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+EMERSON (R. W.) WORKS, comprising Essays, Lectures, Poems, and
+Orations. In 2 vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+FIELDING (H.) TOM JONES, the History of a Foundling. Roscoe's Edition
+revised. With Illustrations by G. Cruikshank. In 2 vols. 7_s_.
+
+FIELDING (H.) JOSEPH ANDREWS, and Roscoe's Biography of the Author
+revised. With Illustrations by G. Cruikshank. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+FIELDING (H.) AMELIA. Roscoe's Edition revised. With Cruikshank's
+Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+HAZLITT'S (W.) LECTURES, &c. 6 vols. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+IRVING (W.) WORKS. In 11 vols. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each. [_See also
+p_. 3.]
+
+LAMB (C.) ESSAYS OF ELIA, AND ELIANA. New Edition, post 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+LUTHER (M.) TABLE-TALK. Translated by W. Hazlitt. With Life and
+Portrait. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+MANZONI (ALESSANDRO). THE BETROTHED (I promessi Sposi). The only
+complete English translation. With numerous Woodcuts, 5_s_.
+
+PEPYS'S DIARY. With Life and Notes by Richard Lord Braybrooke. 4 vols.
+post 8vo. cloth, gilt, 5_s_. 6_d_. per vol.
+
+PROUT (FATHER). RELIQUES. New Edition, revised and largely augmented.
+Twenty-one spirited Etchings by Maclise. 1 vol. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+RICHTER (J. P. F.) AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND LEVANA. Translated. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+RICHTER (J. P. F.) FLOWER, FRUIT, AND THORN PIECES. A Novel. Translated
+by Alex. Ewing. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WALTON. THE COMPLETE ANGLER. Edited by E. Jesse. With an account of
+Fishing Stations, &c., and 203 Engravings. 5_s_.; or with 26 additional
+page Illustrations on Steel, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+
+                           _POETRY AND DRAMA_
+
+SHAKESPEARE. Edited by S. W. Singer. With a Life by W. W. Lloyd.
+Uniform with the Aldine Edition of the Poets. 10 vols. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+each. In half morocco, 5_s_.
+
+CRITICAL ESSAYS ON THE PLAYS. By W. W. Lloyd. Uniform with the above,
+2_s_. 6_d_.; in half morocco, 5_s_.
+
+SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS AND POEMS. With Notes and Life by Charles Knight,
+and 40 Engravings on Wood by Harvey. Royal 8vo. cloth, 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+---- (Valpy's Cabinet Pictorial Edition), with Glossarial Notes,
+Digests, &c., and 171 Outline Plates. 15 vols. Fcap. 8vo. 2_l_. 5_s_.
+
+---- (Pocket Volume Edition). Comprising all his Plays and Poems.
+Edited from the First Folio Edition by T. Keightley. 13 vols. royal
+32mo. in a cloth box, price 21_s_.
+
+SHAKESPEARE. DRAMATIC ART OF  The History and Character of the Plays.
+By Dr. Ulrici. Translated by L. D. Schmitz. 2 vols. post 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_. each.
+
+CHAUCER. Robert Bell's Edition. Revised. With Preliminary Essay by the
+Rev. W. W. Skeat. M.A. 4 vols. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+EARLY BALLADS AND SONGS OF THE PEASANTRY OF ENGLAND. Edited by Robert
+Bell. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+GREENE, MARLOWE, and BEN JONSON. Poems of. Edited by Robert Bell. 1
+vol. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+PERCY'S RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY. Reprinted from the Original
+Edition, and Edited by J. V. Prichard. In 2 vols. 7_s_.
+
+MILTON'S (J.) POETICAL WORKS. With Memoir and Notes, and 120
+Engravings. In 2 vols. post 8vo. 5_s_. each.
+
+GOLDSMITH. POEMS. Illustrated. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+SHERIDAN'S DRAMATIC WORKS. With Short Life, by G. C. S. and Portrait.
+Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+ALFIERI. The Tragedies of. In English Verse. Edited by E. A. Bowring,
+C. B. 2 vols. post 8vo. 7_s_.
+
+CAMOENS' LUSIAD. Mickle's Translation revised. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+DANTE. THE DIVINE COMEDY. Translated by the Rev. H. F. Cary. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+This and the following one are the only editions containing the
+author's last corrections and emendations.
+
+---- The Popular Edition, neatly Printed in Double Columns. Royal 8vo.
+sewed, 1_s_. 6_d_.; cloth, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+---- Translated into English Verse by J. C. Wright, M.A. With Portrait
+and 34 Engravings on Steel, after Flaxman. 5th Edition, post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+PETRARCH. SONNETS, TRIUMPHS, AND OTHER POEMS. Translated into English
+Verse. With Campbell's Life of the Poet. Illustrated. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+MOLIÈRE. DRAMATIC WORKS. In prose. Translated by C. H. Wall. In 3 vols.
+post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each. Also fine-paper Edition, large post 8vo.
+7_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+                  _Translated by E. A. Bowring, C.B._
+
+POEMS OF GOETHE. 2nd Edition (including Hermann and Dorothea). Post
+8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+POEMS OF SCHILLER. 2nd Edition. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+POEMS OF HEINE. 2nd Edition. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+                     _By Professor Conington, M.A._
+
+HORACE'S ODES AND CARMEN SĈCULARE. Translated into English Verse. 7th
+Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_. 6_d_.
+
+---- SATIRES AND EPISTLES. Translated into English Verse. 3rd Edition.
+6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+                         _By C. S. Calverley_.
+
+VERSES AND TRANSLATIONS. 5th Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+FLY LEAVES. 6th Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+TRANSLATIONS INTO ENGLISH AND LATIN. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THEOCRITUS, into English Verse. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+                      _By Adelaide Anne Procter_.
+
+LEGENDS AND LYRICS. Illustrated Edition, with Portrait, and
+Introduction by Charles Dickens. 4th Thous. 21_s_.
+
+---- First Series. Introduction by Charles Dickens, and Portrait of the
+Author. 29th Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+---- Second Series. 23rd Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+ENGLISH SONGS AND LYRICS. By Barry Cornwall. New Edition. Fcap. 8vo.
+6_s_.
+
+SONGS, BALLADS, AND STORIES. By W. Allingham. Crown 8vo. gilt edges,
+10_s_. 6_d_.
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+                  ALDINE SERIES OF THE BRITISH POETS.
+
+The Editors of the various authors in this Series have in all cases
+endeavoured to make the collections of Poems as complete as possible,
+and in many instances copyright Poems are to be found in these editions
+which are not in any other. Each volume is carefully edited, with Notes
+where necessary for the elucidation of the Text, and a Memoir. A
+Portrait also is added in all cases where an authentic one is
+accessible. The volumes are printed on toned paper in fcap. 8vo. size,
+and neatly bound in cloth gilt, price 5_s_. each.
+
+  A Cheap Reprint of this Series, neat cloth, 1_s_. 6_d_. per volume.
+
+AKENSIDE.                                 | KIRKE WHITE.
+BEATTIE.                                  | MILTON. 3 vols.
+BURNS. 3 vols.                            | PARNELL.
+BUTLER. 2 vols.                           | POPE. 3 vols.
+CHAUCER. 6 vols.                          | PRIOR. 2 vols.
+CHURCHILL. 2 vols.                        | SHAKESPEARE'S POEMS.
+COLLINS.                                  | SPENSER. 5 vols.
+COWPER, including his Translations.       | SURREY.
+   3 vols.                                | SWIFT. 3 vols.
+DRYDEN. 5 vols.                           | THOMSON. 2 vols.
+FALCONER.                                 | WYATT.
+GOLDSMITH.                                | YOUNG. 2 vols.
+GRAY.
+
+  The following volumes of a New Series have been issued, 5_s_. each.
+
+CHATTERTON. 2 vols.                       | THE COURTLY POETS, from
+CAMPBELL.                                 |   RALEIGH to WOTTON.
+WILLIAM BLAKE.                            | GEORGE HERBERT.
+ROGERS.                                   | KEATS.
+
+
+                              _REFERENCE._
+
+STUDENTS' GUIDE to the University of Cambridge. 3rd Edition, revised
+and corrected. Fcap. 8vo. 6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KING'S INTEREST TABLES. 25th Edition, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KENT'S COMMENTARY on International Law. New Edition, revised, with
+additional Notes and Cases, by J. T. Abdy, LL.D. Crown 8vo.
+                                                   [_Immediately_.]
+
+THE EPIGRAMMATISTS. Selections from the Epigrammatic Literature of
+Ancient, Mediĉval, and Modern Times. With Notes, &c. by Rev. H. P.
+Dodd, M.A. 2nd Edition, enlarged. Post 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+LATIN AND GREEK QUOTATIONS. A Dictionary of. Including Proverbs,
+Maxims, Mottoes, Law Terms, Phrases, &c. By H. T. Riley. Post 8vo.
+5_s_. With Index Verboram, 6_s_.
+
+BRYAN'S DICTIONARY OF PAINTERS. _See p_. 2.
+
+COOPER'S BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. _See p_. 2.
+
+DR. RICHARDSON'S DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Combining
+Explanation with Etymology, and copiously illustrated by Quotations
+from the best authorities. New edition, with a Supplement. In 2 vols.
+4to. 4_l_. 14_s_. 6_d_.; half-bound in russia, 5_l_. 15_s_. 6_d_.;
+russia, 6_l_. 12_s_. The Supplement separately. 4to. 12_s_. An 8vo
+edition, without the Quotations, 15_s_.; half russia, 20_s_.; russia,
+24_s_.
+
+The following are the only authorised and unabridged Editions of
+WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY containing the valuable Etymological Notes and
+Derivations of Dr. Mahn, of Berlin, who devoted five years to the
+Revision of the Work.
+
+WEBSTER'S GUINEA DICTIONARY of the English Language, including
+scientific, biblical, and Scottish terms and phrases, with their
+pronunciations, alternative spellings, derivations, and meanings. In 1
+vol. 4to. with nearly 1600 pages and 3000 Illustrations. Strongly bound
+in cloth, 21_s_.; half calf, 30_s_.; calf or half russia, 1_l_. 11_s_.
+6_d_.; russia, 2_l_.
+
+WEBSTER'S COMPLETE DICTIONARY, containing all that appears in the
+above, and also a valuable Appendix, and 70 pages of Illustrations
+grouped and classified, rendering it a complete Literary and Scientific
+Reference Book. 1 vol. 4to. strongly bound in cloth, 1_l_. 11_s_.
+6_d_.; half calf, 2_l_.; calf or half russia, 2_l_. 2_s_.; russia,
+2_l_. 10_s_.
+
+'Certainly the best practical English Dictionary extant.'--_Quarterly
+Review_.
+
+
+                           _NATURAL HISTORY_.
+
+THE LIBRARY OF NATURAL HISTORY. Containing Morris' British
+Birds--Nests--Eggs--British Butterflies--British Moths--Bree's Birds of
+Europe--Lowe's Works on British and Exotic Ferns, Grasses and Beautiful
+Leaved Plants--Hibberd's Plants--Maund's Botanic Garden--Tripp's
+British Mosses--Gatty's Seaweeds--Wooster's Alpine Plants, and Couch's
+Fishes--making in all 43 Volumes, in super-royal 8vo. containing
+upwards of 2550 full--page Plates, carefully coloured.
+
+            _Complete Lists sent post free on application_.
+
+SOWERBY'S BOTANY. Containing a Description and Life--size Drawing of
+every British Plant. Edited and brought up to the present standard of
+scientific knowledge, by T. Boswell (formerly Syme), LL.D., F.L.S., &c.
+With Popular Descriptions of the Uses, History, and Traditions of each
+Plant, by Mrs. Lankester, Author of 'Wild Flowers worth Notice,' 'The
+British Ferns,' &c. The Figures by J. C. Sowerby, F.L.S., J. De C.
+Sowerby, F.L.S., and J. W. Salter, A.L.S., F.G.S., and John Edward
+Sowerby. Third Edition, entirely revised, with descriptions of all the
+species by the Editor. In 11 vols. 22_l_. 8_s_. cloth; 24_l_. 12_s_.
+half morocco; and 28_l_. 3_s_. 6_d_. whole morocco. Volumes sold
+separately.
+
+SOWERBY'S FERNS AND FERN-ALLIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. With 80 Plates by J.
+E. Sowerby. The Descriptions, Synonyms, &c, by C. Johnson. Royal paper,
+Coloured Plates, 25_s_.
+
+COTTAGE GARDENER'S DICTIONARY. With a Supplement, containing all the
+new plants and varieties down to the year 1869. Edited by G. W.
+Johnson. Post 8vo. cloth, 6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+BOTANIST'S POCKET-BOOK. By W. R. Hayward. Containing the Botanical
+name, Common name, Soil or Situation, Colour, Growth, and time of
+Flowering of all plants, arranged in a tabulated form. 2nd Edition,
+revised. Fcap. 8vo. 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+MY GARDEN; its Plan and Culture. Together with a General Description of
+its Geology, Botany, and Natural History. By A. Smee, F.R.S., with more
+than 1300 Engravings on Wood. 4th Thousand, imp. 8vo. 21_s_.
+
+"'My Garden' is indeed a book which ought to be in the hands of
+everyone who is fortunate enough to possess a garden of his own; he is
+certain to find some things in it from which he may profit."--_Nature_.
+
+NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. With Notes by Sir William Jardine and
+Edward Jesse, Esq. Illustrated by 40 highly-finished Engravings; or,
+with the Plates coloured, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+HISTORY OF BRITISH BIRDS. By R. Mudie. With 28 Plates. 2 vols. 7_s_.
+6_d_. each.
+
+
+                          _ART AND ORNAMENT_.
+
+TURNER'S PICTURESQUE VIEWS IN ENGLAND AND WALES. With Descriptive
+Notices. 96 Illustrations, reproduced in Permanent Photography. In 3
+vols. imp. 4to. Vol. I. Landscapes, 40 Plates, 2_l_. 12_s_. 6_d_.; Vol.
+II. Castles and Abbeys, 32 Plates, 2_l_. 2_s_.; Vol. III. Coast
+Scenery, 24 Plates, 1_l_. 11_s_. 6_d_.
+
+TURNER'S CELEBRATED LANDSCAPES. Sixteen Autotype Reproductions of the
+most important Works of J. M. W. Turner, R.A. With Memoir and
+Descriptions. Imp. 4to. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+THE RAFFAELLE GALLERY. Permanent Reproductions in Autotype of
+Engravings of the most celebrated Works of Raffaelle Sanzio d'Urbino.
+With Descriptions, &c. Imp. quarto, 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+FLAXMAN. CLASSICAL COMPOSITIONS, comprising the Outline Illustrations
+to Homer's 'Iliad' and 'Odyssey,' the 'Tragedies' of Ĉschylus, the
+'Theogony' and 'Works and Days' of Hesiod, engraved by Piroli of Rome,
+and William Blake. Imp. 4to. half bound morocco, 4_l_. 14_s_. 6_d_. The
+four parts, separately, 21_s_. each.
+
+---- THE DRAWINGS OF. Thirty-two large Plates, comprising the entire
+Series of the Flaxman Drawings in the Gallery of University College,
+London, reproduced by the Autotype Process of Permanent Photography.
+Edited, with a descriptive letterpress and copious Introduction, by
+Sidney Colvin, M.A., Fellow of Trinity College and Slade Professor in
+the University of Cambridge. Large folio, in portfolio, 10_l_. 10_s_.
+
+MEMOIRS OF SIR EDWIN LANDSEER. Being a New Edition of 'The Early Works
+of Sir Edwin Landseer.' Revised and enlarged by F. G. Stephens. With 24
+Illustrations in Photography. Imp. 8vo. 1_l_. 5_s_.
+
+NOTES ON IRISH ARCHITECTURE. By the late Earl Of Dunraven. Edited by M.
+Stokes, Associate of the Scottish Society of Antiquaries. With numerous
+Woodcuts and fine Photographic Illustrations. Imp. 4to. Vol. I. 4_l_.
+4_s_.; Vol. II. 4_l_. 4_s_.
+
+MOUNTAINS AND LAKES Of Switzerland AND ITALY. 64 Picturesque Views in
+Chromolithograph, from Original Sketches by C. C. Pyne. With a Map of
+Routes and Descriptive Notes by Rev. J. Mercier. 2nd Edition. Crown
+4to. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+RIVIERA, THE. Pen-and-Pencil Sketches from Cannes to Genoa. By Dean
+Alford. With 12 Chromolithographic Illustrations and numerous Woodcuts,
+from Drawings by the Author. Imp. 8vo. 21_s_.
+
+CRUIKSHANK (G.) A COMPLETE CATALOGUE OF THE ENGRAVED WORKS OF.
+Including Etchings on Steel, Copper, &c., and Woodcuts executed between
+the years 1805 and 1870. Compiled by G. W. Reid, Keeper of the Prints
+and Drawings in the British Museum. With a large number of
+Illustrations, chiefly from the Original Plates and Blocks. In 3 vols.
+royal 4to. 12_l_. 12_s_.
+
+FLAXMAN. LECTURES ON SCULPTURE, as delivered before the President and
+Members of the Royal Academy. By J. Flaxman, R.A. With 53 Plates. New
+Edition, 6_s_.
+
+HEATON (MRS.) A CONCISE HISTORY OF PAINTING FOR STUDENTS AND GENERAL
+READERS. By Mrs. Heaton. With Illustrations. 8vo. 15_s_.
+
+DRAWING COPIES. By P. H. Delamotte, Professor of Drawing at King's
+College, London. 96 Original Sketches in Architecture, Trees, Figures,
+Foregrounds, Landscapes, Boats, and Sea--pieces. Royal 8vo. Oblong,
+half-bound, 12_s_.
+
+HANDBOOK TO THE DEPARTMENT OF PRINTS AND DRAWINGS IN THE BRITISH
+MUSEUM. With Introduction and Notices of the various Schools, and a
+Frontispiece after Raffaelle. By Louis Fagan, of the Department of
+Prints and Drawings, British Museum. Medium 8vo. 8_s_.; sewed, 9_s_. in
+cloth.
+
+                          _By Eliza Meteyard_.
+
+MEMORIALS OF WEDGWOOD. A Series of Plaques, Cameos, Vases, &c.,
+selected from various Private Collections, and executed in Permanent
+Photography. With Introduction and Descriptions. Imp. 4to. 3_l_. 3_s_.
+
+WEDGWOOD AND HIS WORKS: a Selection of his choicest Plaques,
+Medallions, Vases, &c, from Designs by Flaxman and others, in Permanent
+Photography, with a Sketch of his Life and of the Progress of his Art
+Manufacture. Imp. 4to. 3_l_. 3_s_.
+
+CATALOGUE OF WEDGWOOD'S MANUFACTURES. With Illustrations. Half-bound
+8vo. 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WEDGWOOD HANDBOOK. A Manual for Collectors: Treating of the Marks,
+Monograms, and other Tests of the Old Period of Manufacture; also
+including the Catalogues with Prices obtained at various Sales,
+together with a Glossary of Terms. 8vo. 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+OLD DERBY CHINA FACTORY. The Workmen and their Productions. Containing
+Biographical Sketches of the chief Artist-workmen, the various Marks
+used, Facsimiles from the old Derby Books, and original Price Lists of
+more than 400 Figures and Groups, &c. With 12 Coloured Plates and
+numerous Woodcuts. By John Haslem. Imp. 8vo. 31_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'That which has been done so well by Miss Meteyard for Etruria, by Mr.
+Binns for Worcester, and by Mr. Owen for Bristol, has now been done for
+the Derby works with at least equal zeal, intelligence, and ability, by
+Mr. Haslem.'--_Staffordshire Advertiser_.
+
+
+                          _FOR YOUNG PEOPLE_.
+
+AUNT JUDY'S MAGAZINE. Edited by H. K. F. Gatty. A High-class
+Illustrated Magazine for Young People. 8_d_. Monthly.
+
+The CHRISTMAS VOLUME for 1877 contains Stories by Mrs. Ewing,
+Ascott R. Hope, Flora Masson, and others. Translations from the
+German, French, and Swedish--Short Stories--Fairy Tales--Papers
+on Historical Subjects--Natural History Articles. Short Biographies
+of Eminent Persons--Verses--A Christmas Play by Douglas
+Straight--Acrostics--Correspondence--Book Notices, and numerous
+Illustrations. Imp. 16mo. Handsomely bound, price 8_s_. 6_d_.
+
+       _Former Volumes may still be had, some at reduced prices_.
+
+                        _By Mrs. Alfred Gatty_.
+
+PARABLES FROM NATURE. With Notes on the Natural History; and numerous
+large Illustrations by eminent Artists. 4to. cloth gilt, 21_s_. Also in
+2 vols. 10_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+---- 16mo. with Illustrations. First Series, 17th Edition, 1_s_. 6_d_.
+Second Series, 10th Edition, 2_s_. The two Series in 1 vol. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+Third Series, 6th Edition, 2_s_. Fourth Series, 4th Edition, 2_s_. The
+two Series in one vol. 4_s_. Fifth Series, 2_s_.
+
+WORLDS NOT REALIZED. 16mo. 4th Edition, 2_s_.
+
+PROVERBS ILLUSTRATED. 16mo. With Illustrations. 4th Edition, 2_s_.
+
+A BOOK OF EMBLEMS. Drawn by F. Gilbert. With Introduction and
+Explanations. Imp. 16mo. 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WAIFS AND STRAYS OF NATURAL HISTORY. With Coloured Frontispiece and
+Woodcuts. Fcap. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE POOR INCUMBENT. Fcap. 8vo. 1_s_. and 1_s_. 6_d_.
+
+AUNT SALLY'S LIFE. With Six Illustrations. Square 16mo. 3rd Edition,
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE MOTHER'S BOOK OF POETRY. Selected and Arranged by Mrs. A. Gatty.
+Crown 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.; or with Illustrations, elegantly bound, 7_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+A BIT OF BREAD. By Jean Macé. Translated by Mrs. Alfred Gatty. 2 vols.
+fcap. 8vo. Vol. I. 4_s_. 6_d_. Vol. II. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+        The Uniform Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each volume.
+
+PARABLES FROM NATURE.                 | DOMESTIC PICTURES AND
+ 2 vols. With Portrait.               | TALES. With 6 Illustrations.
+THE HUMAN FACE DIVINE,                | WORLDS NOT REALIZED,
+ and other Tales. With Illustrations. |  and Proverbs Illustrated.
+ 3rd Edition.                         | THE HUNDRETH BIRTHDAY,
+THE FAIRY GODMOTHERS,                 |  and other Tales. With
+ and other Tales. With                |  Illustrations by Phiz.
+ Frontispiece. 7th Edition,           |  New Edition.
+ 2_s_. 6_d_.                          | MRS. ALFRED GATTY'S
+AUNT JUDY'S TALES.                    |  PRESENTATION BOX for Young
+ Illustrated. 7th Edition.            |  People, containing the above
+AUNT JUDY'S LETTERS; a                |  volumes, neatly bound, and
+ Sequel to 'Aunt Judy's Tales.'       |  enclosed in a cloth box.
+ Illustrated. 5th Edition.            |  31_s_. 6_d_.
+
+
+                            _By Mrs. Ewing_.
+
+'Everything Mrs. Ewing writes is full of talent, and also full of
+perception and common sense.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+A GREAT EMERGENCY, and other Tales. With 4 Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo.
+5_s_. [_Just published._]
+
+THE BROWNIES, and other Tales. Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 3rd
+Edition. Imp. 16mo. 5_s_.
+
+'Mrs. Ewing gives us some really charming writing. While her first
+story most prettily teaches children how much they can do to help their
+parents, the immediate result will be, we fear, anything but good. For
+if a child once begins "The Brownies," it will get so deeply interested
+in it, that when bed-time comes it will altogether forget the moral,
+and will weary its parents with importunities for just a few minutes
+more to see how everything ends. The frontispiece, by the old friend
+of our childhood, George Cruikshank, is no less pretty than the
+story.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+MRS. OVERTHEWAY'S REMEMBRANCES. Illustrated with 10 fine Full-page
+Engravings on Wood, after Drawings by Pasquier and Wolf, and Edition,
+cloth gilt, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It is not often nowadays the privilege of a critic to grow
+enthusiastic over a new work; and the rarity of the occasion that calls
+forth the delight is apt to lead one into the sin of hyperbole. And yet
+we think we shall not be accused of extravagance when we say that,
+without exception, "Mrs. Overthewny's Remembrances" is the most
+delightful work avowedly written for children that we have ever read.
+There are passages in this book which the genius of George Eliot would
+be proud to own. It is full of a peculiar, heart-stirring pathos of its
+own, which culminates in the last pages, when Ida finds that her father
+is not dead. The book is one that may be recurred to often, and always
+with the same delight. We predict for it a great popularity.'--
+_Leader_.
+
+MELCHIOR'S DREAM, and other Tales. Illustrated. 3rd Edition. Fcap. 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+"'Melchior's Dream' is an exquisite little story, charming by original
+humour, buoyant spirits, and tender pathos."--_Athenĉum_.
+
+A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING; or, Some Passages in the Life of an Only
+Son. With 12 Illustrations by H. Allingham. 5th Edition. Small 8vo.
+5_s_.
+
+'Let every parent and guardian who wishes to be amused, and at the same
+time to please a child, purchase "A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or, some
+Passages in the Life of an Only Son," by J. H Ewing. We will answer for
+the delight with which they will read it themselves, and we do not
+doubt that the young and fortunate recipients will also like it. The
+story is quaint, original, and altogether delightful.'--_Athenĉum_.
+
+'A capital book for a present. No child who is fortunate enough to
+possess it will be in a hurry to put it down, for it is a book of
+uncommon fascination. The story is good, the principles inculcated
+admirable, and some of the illustrations simply delicious.'--_John
+Bull_.
+
+LOB-LIE-BY-THE-FIRE; or, the Luck of Lingborough. And other Tales.
+Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 2nd Edition. Imp. 16mo. 5_s_.
+
+'A charming tale by another of those clever writers, thanks to
+whom the children are now really better served than their
+neighbours.'--_Spectator_.
+
+'Mrs. Ewing has written as good a story as her "Brownies," and that is
+saying a great deal. "Lob-lie-by-the-fire" has humour and pathos, and
+teaches what is right without making children think they are reading a
+sermon.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+SIX TO SIXTEEN: A Story for Girls. With 10 Illustrations by Mrs.
+Allingham. 3rd Edition. Small post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+'The homely good sense and humour of the bulk of the story are set off
+by the pathos of its opening and its close, and a soft and beautiful
+light, as of dawn and sunset, is thrown round the substantial English
+ideal of what a girl's education ought to be, which runs through the
+tale.'--_Spectator_.
+
+'It is a beautifully told story, full of humour and pathos, and bright
+sketches of scenery and character. It is all told with great
+naturalness, and will amuse grown-up people quite as much as children.
+In reading the story, we have been struck especially by characteristic
+bits of description, which show very happily the writer's appreciation
+of child life.'--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+'We have rarely met, on such a modest scale, with characters so ably
+and simply drawn ... The merits of the volume, in themselves not small,
+are much enhanced by some clever illustrations from the pencil of Mrs.
+Allingham.'--_Athenĉum_.
+
+'The tone of the book is pleasant and healthy, and singularly free from
+that sentimental, not to say "mawkish," stain which is apt to disfigure
+such productions. The illustrations by Mrs. Allingham add a special
+attraction to the little volume.'--_Times_.
+
+'It is scarcely necessary to say that Mrs. Ewing's book is one of the
+best of the year.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+'There is in it not only a great deal of common sense, but there is
+true humour.... We have not met a healthier or breezier tale for girls
+for a long period.'--_Academy_.
+
+JAN OF THE WINDMILL; a Story of the Plains. With 11 Illustrations by
+Helen Allingham. Crown 8vo. 8_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A capital story, which, like all that Mrs. Ewing gives us, will be
+read with pleasure Some well-drawn illustrations materially increase
+the attractiveness of the volume.'--_City Press_.
+
+                          _By Mrs. O'Reilly_.
+
+'Mrs. O'Reilly's works need no commendation ... the style is so good,
+the narrative so engrossing, and the tone so excellent.'--_John Bull_.
+
+LITTLE PRESCRIPTION, and other Tales. With 6 Illustrations by W. H.
+Petherick and others. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A worthy successor of some charming little volumes of the same
+kind.... The tale from which the title is taken is for its grace and
+pathos an especial favourite.'--_Spectator_.
+
+'Mrs. O'Reilly could not write otherwise than well, even if she were to
+try.'--_Morning Post_.
+
+CICELY'S CHOICE, A Story for Girls. With a Frontispiece by J. A.
+Pasquier. Fcap. 8vo. gilt edges, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A pleasant story.... It is a book for girls, and grown people will
+also enjoy reading it.'--_Athenĉum_.
+
+'A pleasant, well-written, interesting story, likely to be acceptable
+to young people who are in their teens.'--_Scotsman_.
+
+GILES'S MINORITY; or, Scenes at the Red House. With 8 Illustrations.
+16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'In one of our former reviews we praised "Deborah's Drawer." "Giles's
+Minority" no less deserves our goodwill. It is a picture of
+school-room life, and is so well drawn that grown-up readers may
+delight in it. In literary excellence this little book is above most of
+its fellows.'--_Times_.
+
+DOLL WORLD; or, Play and Earnest. A Study from Real Life. With 8
+Illustrations. By C. A. Saltmarsh. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It is a capital child's book, and it has a charm for grown-up people
+also, as the fairy haze of "long-ago" brightens every page. We are not
+ashamed to confess to the "thrilling interest" with which we followed
+the history of "Robertina" and "Mabel."'--_Athenĉum_.
+
+DEBORAH'S DRAWER. With 9 Illustrations. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'Any godmamma who wishes to buy an unusually pretty and
+artistically-written gift-book for an eight-year-old pet cannot do
+better than spend a florin or two on the contents of "Aunt Deborah's
+Drawer."'--_Athenĉum_.
+
+DAISY'S COMPANIONS; or, Scenes from Child Life. A Story for Little
+Girls. With 8 Illustrations. 3rd Edit. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'If anybody wants a pretty little present for a pretty (and good)
+little daughter, or a niece or grand-daughter, we cannot recommend a
+better or tastier one than "Daisy's Companions."'--_Times_.
+
+                   _Captain Marryats Books for Boys_.
+
+     Uniform Illustrated Edition, neatly bound in cloth, post 8vo.
+               3_s_. 6_d_. each; gilt edges, 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+POOR JACK. With Sixteen            | THE SETTLERS IN CANADA.
+ Illustrations after Designs by    |  With Illustrations by
+ Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.          |  Gilbert and Dalziel.
+THE MISSION; or, Scenes in         | THE PRIVATEERSMAN.
+ Africa. With Illustrations by     |  Adventures by Sea and Land in
+ John Gilbert.                     |  Civil and Savage Life One
+THE PIRATE, AND THREE              |  Hundred Years Ago. Illustrated
+ CUTTERS. With Memoir of the       |  with Eight Steel Engravings.
+ Author, and 20 Steel Engravings   | MASTERMAN READY; or, the
+ by Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.       |  Wreck of the Pacific.
+  Cheap Edition, without           |  Embellished with Ninety-three
+  Illustrations, 1_s_. 6_d_.       |  Engravings on Wood.
+
+A BOY'S LOCKER. A Smaller Edition of Captain Marryat's Books for Boys,
+in 12 vols. Fcap. 8vo. in a compact cloth box, 21_s_.
+
+                     _By Hans Christian Andersen_.
+
+FAIRYTALES AND SKETCHES. Translated by C. C. Peachey, H. Ward, A.
+Plesner, &c. With 104 Illustrations by Otto Speckter and others. Crown
+8vo. 6_s_.
+
+'The translation most happily hits the delicate quaintness of
+Andersen--most happily transposes into simple English words the tender
+precision of the famous story-teller; in a keen examination of the book
+we scarcely recall a single phrase or turn that obviously could have
+been bettered.'--_Daily Telegraph_.
+
+TALES FOR CHILDREN. With 48 Full-page Illustrations by Wehnert, and 57
+Small Engravings on Wood by W. Thomas. A new Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+This and the above volume form the most complete English Edition of
+Andersen's Tales.
+
+LATER TALES. Translated from the Danish by Augusta Plesner and H. Ward.
+With Illustrations by Otto Speckter, W. Cooper, and other Artists.
+Cloth gilt, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+WONDERWORLD. A Collection of Fairy Tales, Old and New. Translated from
+the French, German, and Danish. With 4 Coloured Illustrations and
+numerous Woodcuts by L. Richter, Oscar Pletsch, and others. Royal 16mo.
+cloth, gilt edges, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It will delight the children, and has in it a wealth of wisdom that
+may be of practical service when they have grown into men and
+women.'--_Literary World_.
+
+GUESSING STORIES; or, The Surprising Adventures of the Man with the
+Extra Pair of Eyes. By the late Archdeacon Freeman. 3rd Edition, 2_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+GRIMM'S GAMMER GRETHEL; or, German Fairy Tales and Popular Stories.
+Translated by Edgar Taylor. Numerous Woodcuts after G. Cruikshank's
+designs. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+LITTLE PLAYS FOR LITTLE PEOPLE; with Hints for Drawing-room
+Performances. By Mrs. Chisholm, Author of 'Rana, the Story of a Frog.'
+16mo. with Illustrations, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+ROBINSON CRUSOE. With a Biographical Account of Defoe. Illustrated with
+70 Wood Engravings, chiefly after Designs by Harvey; and 12 Engravings
+on Steel after Stothard. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. By E. Wetherell. With 10 Illustrations. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By H. B. Stowe. Illustrated. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KIRSTIN'S ADVENTURES. A Story of Jutland Life. By the Author of
+'Casimir the Little Exile,' &c. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+'There is so much true art and natural talent in the book that we are
+half inclined to take it away from the boys and girls for whom it is
+written.'--_Times_.
+
+KATIE; or, the Simple Heart. By D. Richmond, Author of 'Annie
+Maitland.' Illustrated by M. I. Booth. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+'The family life which surrounds Katie is both pretty and natural. The
+tone is good, and the plot--we speak from experience--engages a child's
+interest with almost too keen a sympathy.'--_Guardian_.
+
+QUEENS OF ENGLAND from the Norman Conquest. By A. Strickland. An
+Abridged Edition, with Portrait of Matilda of Flanders. In 1 vol. crown
+8vo. cloth, 6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+GLIMPSES INTO PET-LAND. By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A., F.L.S. With
+Frontispiece. Fcap. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+FRIENDS IN FUR AND FEATHERS. By Gwynfryn. Illustrated with 8 Full-page
+Engravings by F. W. Keyl, &c. 5th Edition. Handsomely bound, 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+'We have already characterised some other book as the best cat-and-dog
+book of the season. We said so because we had not seen the present
+little book, which is delightful. It is written on an artistic
+principle, consisting of actual biographies of certain elephants,
+squirrels, blackbirds, and what not, who lived in the flesh; and we
+only wish that human biographies were always as entertaining and
+instructive.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+INSECT ARCHITECTURE. By Rennie. Edited by the Rev. J. G. Wood, Author
+of 'Homes Without Hands.' Post 8vo. with nearly 200 Illustrations,
+5_s_.
+
+THE ENTERTAINING NATURALIST. By Mrs. Loudon. Revised and enlarged by W.
+S. Dallas, F.L.S. With nearly 500 Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+ANECDOTES OF DOGS. By Edward Jesse. With Illustrations. Post 8vo.
+cloth, 5_s_. With 34 Steel Engravings after Cooper, Landseer, &c. 7_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. By Gilbert White. Edited by Jesse.
+Illustrated with 40 Engravings. Post 8vo. 5_s_.; or, with the Plates
+Coloured, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+CHARADES, ENIGMAS, AND RIDDLES. Collected by a Cantab. 5th Edition,
+enlarged. Illustrated. Fcap. 8vo. 1_s_.
+
+POETRY-BOOK FOR SCHOOLS, illustrated with 37 highly finished Engravings
+by C. W. Cope, R.A., W. Helmsley, S. Palmer, F. Skill, G. Thomas, and
+H. Weir. Crown 8vo. gilt, 2_s_. 6_d_.; cloth, 1_s_.
+
+GILES WITHERNE; or, the Reward of Disobedience. A Village Tale for the
+Young. By the Rev. J. P. Parkinson, D.C.L. 6th Edition. Illustrated by
+the Rev. F. W. Mann. Super-royal 16mo. 1_s_.
+
+THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. By John Bunyan. With 281 Engravings from
+Designs by William Harvey. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+OLD NURSERY RHYMES AND CHIMES. Collected and arranged by a Peal of
+Bells. Fcap. 4to. Ornamental binding, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+NURSERY CAROLS. By the Rev. Dr. Monsell, Rector of St. Nicholas,
+Guildford, with upwards of 100 Illustrations by Ludwig Richter and
+Oscar Pletsch. Imp. 16mo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'At once a poet and a child lover, full of fun and yet disposed gently
+to instil what is good, Dr. Monsell is inimitable in this particular
+department.'--_John Bull_.
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+                                LONDON:
+
+                 GEORGE BELL & SONS, York Street,
+
+                             Covent Garden.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing, by 
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF LESSING ***
+
+***** This file should be named 33435-8.txt or 33435-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/4/3/33435/
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/33435-8.zip b/33435-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a52bb29
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33435-8.zip
diff --git a/33435-h.zip b/33435-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9ff4f9a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33435-h.zip
diff --git a/33435-h/33435-h.htm b/33435-h/33435-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de731c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33435-h/33435-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,22060 @@
+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<title>The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing.</title>
+<meta name="Author" content="G. E. Lessing">
+<meta name="Publisher" content="George Bell and Sons">
+<meta name="Date" content="1878">
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1">
+<style type="text/css">
+body  {margin-left:10%;
+       margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;}
+
+
+
+p.normal  {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;}
+p.center   {text-align:center; margin-top:9pt;}
+
+
+p.section        {letter-spacing:1em; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt;}
+p.right          {text-align:right; margin-right:10%;}
+
+p.continue       {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;}
+.text10           {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;}
+.text20           {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:20%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;}
+
+
+
+.t0              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t1              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t2              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:8em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t3              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:12em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t4              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:16em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t5              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:20em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t6              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:24em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t7              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:28em; margin-right:0px;}
+.t8              {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:32em; margin-right:0px;}
+
+
+
+h1,h2,h3,h4,h5   {text-align: center;}
+
+span.sc		{font-variant: small-caps; font-size:100%}
+.space      {letter-spacing: 1em; text-align:center; margin-bottom:24pt; margin-top:24pt;}
+
+
+hr.W10		  {width:10%; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt;
+               color:black;}
+hr.W20        {width:20%; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt;
+               color:black;}
+hr.W50        {width:50%; margin-top:12pt; color:black;}
+hr.W90        {width:90%; margin-top:12pt; color:black;}
+
+
+p.hang1        {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;}
+p.hang2        {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em; margin-bottom:24pt; font-size:90%; margin-top:24pt}
+
+.poem {
+  margin-top: 24pt;
+  margin-left: 10%;
+  margin-right: 10%;
+  text-align: left;
+  margin-bottom: 24pt
+  }
+  .poem .stanza {
+  margin : 1em 0;
+  margin-top:24pt;
+  }
+
+</style>
+
+</head>
+
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing, by 
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing
+       Miss Sara Sampson, Philotas, Emilia Galotti, Nathan the Wise
+
+Author: Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+Contributor: Helen Zimmern
+
+Translator: Ernest Bell
+
+Release Date: August 15, 2010 [EBook #33435]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF LESSING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br>
+1. Page scan source: http://books.google.com/books?id=BPQIAAAAQAAJ&amp;pg</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="center">
+<img border="0" src="images/lessing.png" alt="Lessing"><br>
+Lessing.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>THE DRAMATIC WORKS</h1>
+
+<h4>OF</h4>
+
+<h1>G. E. LESSING.</h1>
+
+<br>
+<h3>Translated from the German.</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h4>EDITED BY</h4>
+<h2>ERNEST BELL, M.A.,</h2>
+<h4>TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>WITH A SHORT MEMOIR BY HELEN ZIMMERN.</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<h3><i>MISS SARA SAMPSON</i>, <i>PHILOTAS</i>, <i>EMILIA GALOTTI</i>,<br>
+                           <i>NATHAN THE WISE</i>.</h3>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<h3>LONDON:</h3>
+<h2>GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET,</h2>
+<h3>COVENT GARDEN.</h3>
+<h3>1878.</h3>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4>LONDON:<br>
+PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES ANB SONS,<br>
+STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>PREFACE.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="normal">A Translation of some of Lessing's works has long been
+contemplated for 'Bonn's Standard Library,' and the publishers are glad to be
+able to bring it out at a time when an increased appreciation of this writer has
+become manifest in this country.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The publication of Mr. Sime's work on Lessing, and the almost
+simultaneous appearance of Miss Helen Zimmern's shorter but probably more
+popular biographical study, will, without doubt, tend to spread amongst
+English-speaking people a knowledge of a writer who is held in peculiar
+reverence by his own countrymen; and there is little, if anything, of what he
+wrote that does not appeal in some way or other to the sympathies of Englishmen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In this translation it is purposed to include the most popular
+of his works--the first two volumes comprising all the finished dramatic pieces,
+whilst the third will contain the famous 'Laokoon,' and a large portion of the
+'Hamburg Dramaturgy' (here called 'Dramatic Notes'), and some other smaller
+pieces.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The arrangement of the plays is as follows:--The first volume
+contains the three tragedies and the &quot;dramatic poem,&quot; 'Nathan the Wise.' This
+last piece and 'Emilia Galotti' are translated by Mr. R. Dillon Boylan, whose
+English versions of Schiller's 'Don Carlos,' Goethe's 'Wilhelm Meister,' &amp;c.,
+had previously distinguished him in this path of literature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The second volume will be found to consist entirely of
+comedies, arranged according to the date of composition; and as it happens that
+all these comedies, with the exception of the last and best, 'Minna von
+Barnhelm,' were written before he published any more serious dramatic
+composition, we have, by reversing the order of the first two volumes, an almost
+exactly chronological view of Lessing's dramatic work. The later section of it
+has been placed at the commencement of the series, simply because it was more
+convenient to include in it the introductory notice which Miss Zimmern kindly
+consented to write.</p>
+<div style="margin-right:70%">
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">York Street, Covent Garden</span>.<br>
+      <i>June</i> 1878.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+<div style="margin-left:20%">
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1_Memoir" href="#div1Ref_Memoir"><span class="sc">Memoir</span></a></p>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1_Sara" href="#div1Ref_Sara"><span class="sc">Miss Sara Sampson</span></a></p>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1_Philotas" href="#div1Ref_Philotas"><span class="sc">Philotas</span></a></p>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1_Emilia" href="#div1Ref_Emilia"><span class="sc">Emilia Galotti</span></a></p>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1_Nathan" href="#div1Ref_Nathan"><span class="sc">Nathan The Wise</span></a></p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1Ref_Memoir" href="#div1_Memoir">LESSING.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p class="continue">Since Luther, Germany has produced no greater or better man
+than Gotthold Ephraim Lessing; these two are Germany's pride and joy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This is the witness of Heine, and with Goethe in memory, none
+would pronounce the statement too bold. Luther and Lessing are Germany's
+representative men; each inaugurates an epoch the very existence of which would
+not have been possible without him. Nor is this the only point of analogy.
+Lessing was the Luther of the eighteenth century. Like Luther, Lessing is
+distinguished by earnestness, ardour, true manliness, fierce hatred of
+dissimulation, largeness of mind, breadth, and profundity of thought. Like
+Luther, he stands in history a massive presence whereon the weak may lean. Like
+Luther, he led the vanguard of reform in every department of human learning into
+which he penetrated. Like Luther, he was true to every conviction, and did not
+shrink from its expression. Like Luther, he could have said, &quot;I was born to
+fight with devils and storms, and hence it is that my writings are so boisterous
+and stormy.&quot; Like Luther, he became the founder of a new religion and of a new
+German literature. And again, like Luther, his life labours were not for Germany
+alone, but spread over all Europe; and few of us know how much of our present
+culture we owe directly or indirectly to Lessing's influence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In this country he has not been sufficiently known. Up to the
+present, his name has been familiar to Englishmen only as the author of the 'Laokoon,'
+'Nathan the Wise,' and, possibly also, of 'Minna von Barnhelm.' In knowing
+these, we certainly know the names of some of his masterpieces, but we cannot
+thence deduce the entire cause of the man's far-spreading influence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fully to understand Lessing's influence, and fully to
+understand the bearing of his works, some slight previous acquaintance with
+German literature is absolutely requisite. For unless we comprehend the source
+whence an author's inspirations have sprung, we may often misconceive his views.
+And Lessing's writings, above all, essentially sprang from the needs of his
+time. The subject is a large one, and can only be briefly indicated here; but we
+venture to remark, for those whose interest may be aroused in the subject of
+this volume, that the fuller their knowledge of the man and the motive force
+that evoked his works, the keener will be their enjoyment of these works
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In naming Lessing, Goethe, and Schiller, we utter the three
+greatest names that German literature can boast. And between the three runs a
+connecting link of endeavour; the efforts of none can be conceived without the
+efforts of the others; but Lessing was the leader. He was the mental pathfinder
+who smoothed the way for Goethe's genius, and prepared the popular understanding
+for Schiller, the poetical interpreter of Kant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lessing was born in the early years of the eighteenth century,
+at a time therefore when Germany may be said practically to have had no
+literature. For the revival of learning, the interest in letters that arose with
+the Reformation, and had been fostered by the emancipating spirit of
+Protestantism, had been blighted and extinguished by the terrible wars that
+ravaged the country for thirty years, impoverishing the people, destroying the
+homesteads and farms, and utterly annihilating the mental repose needful to the
+growth and to the just appreciation of literature. Books were destroyed as
+relentlessly in those sad times as flourishing cornfields were down-trodden by
+the iron heel of the invader. It was a fearful period of anarchy and
+retrogression, under the baneful effects of which Germany still labours. Peace
+was at last restored in 1648 by the Treaty of Westphalia, but it found the
+nation broken in spirit and vigour, and where material needs entirely absorb the
+mental energies of a people the Muses cannot flourish. And not only was the
+spirit of the people broken by the war, their national feeling seemed totally
+extinct. The bold fine language wherewith Luther had endowed them was neglected
+and despised by the better classes, who deemed servile imitation of the
+foreigner the true and only criterion of good taste. It grew, at last, to be
+held quite a distinction for a German to be unable to speak his own language
+correctly, and it seems probable that but for the religious utterances of the
+hymn-writers, who thus provided the poor oppressed people with ideal
+consolations, the very essence of the language, in all its purity, might have
+perished. It is among these hymn-writers that we must seek and shall find the
+finest, truest, and most national expressions of that time. Shortly before
+Lessing's birth there had awakened a sense of this national degradation, and
+some princes and nobles formed themselves into a society to suppress the
+fashionable Gallicisms and reinstate the people's language. Their efforts met
+with some little success, but their powers were too limited, and their attempts
+too artificial and jejune to exert any considerable influence either in the
+direction of conservation or of reform. It needed something stronger, bolder, to
+dispel the apathy of a century. Still these associations, known as the two
+Silesian schools, bore their part in sowing the good seed, and though most of it
+fell on stony ground, because there was little other ground for it whereon to
+fall, still some fell on fruitful earth, and brought forth in due season. An
+excessive interest in French literature was opposed by an equal interest in
+English literature. The adherents of these two factions formed what was known as
+the Swiss and Leipzig schools. They waged a fierce paper warfare, that had the
+good effect of once more attracting popular attention to the claims of letters,
+as well as showing the people that in French manners, French language, and
+French literature, the Alpha and Omega of culture need not of necessity be
+sought. The leader of the Leipzig faction, who stood by the French, was
+Gottsched, a German professor of high pretensions and small merits, who put his
+opponents on their mettle by his pedantic and arrogant attacks. He had
+instituted himself a national dictator of good taste, and for a long time it
+seemed probable that he and his party would triumph. His ultimate defeat was
+accomplished by Lessing, whose early boyhood was contemporaneous with the
+fiercest encounters of these antagonists. It was he who gave the death-blow to
+their factious disputes, and referred the nation back to itself and its own
+national glory and power. He found Germany without original literature, and,
+before his short life was ended, the splendid genius of Goethe shed its light
+over the land. Who and what was the man who effected so much?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gotthold Ephraim Lessing was born on the twenty-second of
+January, 1729, at Camentz, a small town in Saxony, of which his father was head
+pastor. For several generations Lessing's ancestors had been distinguished for
+their learning, and with few exceptions they had all held ecclesiastical
+preferment. The father of Gotthold Ephraim was a man of no inconsiderable
+talents and acquirements. His upright principles, breadth of vision and
+scholarly attainments, made him a venerated example to his son, with whom he
+maintained through life the most cordial relationship, though the son's yet more
+enlightened standpoint came to transcend the comprehension of the father. Their
+first divergence occurred on the choice of a profession. It had been traditional
+among the Lessings that the eldest son should take orders, and accordingly
+Gotthold Ephraim was silently assumed to be training for the ministry. He was
+sent for this end, first to the Grammar-school of his native town, then to a
+public school at Meissen, and finally to the University of Leipzig. At Meissen
+he distinguished himself in classical studies, and attempted some original
+German verses. He outstripped his compeers, and before he had accomplished his
+curriculum, the rector recommended his removal, inasmuch as he had exhausted the
+resources of the school. At Leipzig he appeared to turn his back on study. He
+deserted the class-rooms of the theologians and was the more constant attendant
+instead at the theatre, at that time the <i>bête noire</i> of all who affected
+respectability, and decried loudly by the clergy as a very hotbed of vice. News
+of their son's haunts reached the dismayed parents. They urged him to abandon
+his courses, that could only end in mental and moral destruction. In vain the
+son represented to them that he had lived in retirement too long, that he now
+wished to become acquainted with the world and men, and that he held the theatre
+to be a popular educator. In vain he represented that he did attend the
+philosophical courses of Professors Kaestner, Ernesti, and Christ. He was a
+playgoer, and what was still worse, he was a play-writer, for the directress of
+the Leipzig Theatre, Frau Neuber, a woman, of great taste and intelligence, had
+put on the stage Lessing's juvenile effort, 'The Young Scholar.' Nay more, he
+associated with a notorious freethinker, Mylius, and in concert with him had
+contributed to various journals and periodicals. And meanwhile the magistracy of
+Camentz was allowing Lessing a stipend on condition of studying theology. It was
+too much. His son was neglecting the <i>dic cur hic</i>, and to obviate this the
+father recalled him home by a stratagem, informing him that his mother was dying
+and desired once more to see her son. The <i>ruse</i>, intended also as a test
+of Lessing's filial obedience, succeeded in so far as to prove that this was at
+least unshaken; but his parents urged in vain that he should abandon his evil
+ways. He once more expressed with great decision his disinclination towards a
+theological career. But he was also firmly resolved to be no longer a burden to
+his parents, whose large family was a great drain on their resources. He
+determined to follow Mylius, who had gone to Berlin in the capacity of editor,
+convinced that a good brain and steadfast will would force their own way in the
+world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Accordingly Lessing settled in Berlin in 1748, a youth of
+barely twenty years, prepared to fight a hand-to-hand struggle for existence.
+Frederick the Great at that time ruled in Prussia, and his capital was in ill
+repute as a hotbed of frivolity and atheism. If anything could be worse in the
+parents' eyes than their son's attendance at the theatre, it was his presence at
+Berlin. They urged his return home. He refused respectfully but decidedly. He
+had found employment that remunerated him. Voss's <i>Gazette</i> had appointed
+him literary editor, he wrote its critical feuilletons, and here he had the
+first opportunity of attacking the Swiss and Leipzig factions, and of exposing
+the absurdities of both schools. He was able to teach himself Spanish and
+Italian, he translated for the booksellers, he catalogued a library; and while
+thus earning his livelihood <i>tant bien que mal</i>, he indirectly prosecuted
+his studies and enlarged his knowledge of literature and life. For at Berlin he
+was not forced to associate only with books, he also came in contact with
+intellectual men, his views expanded, his judgment became sure. A volume of
+minor poems that he published in 1751 excited attention.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The essays he contributed to Voss's <i>Gazette</i> gave him
+notoriety on account of their independent spirit, their pregnant flashes of
+originality and truth. This unknown youth ventured alone and unsupported to
+attack Gottsched's meretricious writings, and so successfully that even the vain
+dictator trembled, and the rival schools asked each other who was this Daniel
+that had come to judgment? With pitiless subtlety he exposed the crudity, the
+inflation of Klopstock's 'Messiah,' which at that time one half the world
+extolled, the other half abused, while he alone could truly distinguish in what
+respects the poem fell short of its pretensions to be a national epic, and where
+its national importance and merit really lay.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For two years Lessing remained at Berlin; busy years, in which
+he scattered these treatises teeming with discernment and genius. Then at the
+end of that time he felt himself exhausted, he craved seclusion, in which he
+could once more live for himself and garner up fresh stores of knowledge. The
+city and his numerous friends were too distracting. So one day he stole away
+without previous warning and installed himself in the quiet university town of
+Wittenberg. At Wittenberg he spent a year of quiet study. The University library
+was freely opened to him, and he could boast that it did not contain a book he
+had not held in his hands. Wittenberg: being chiefly a theological university,
+Lessing's attention was principally attracted to that subject, and he here laid
+the foundations of the accurate knowledge that was in after years to stand him
+in great stead. When he had exhausted all that Wittenberg could offer, he one
+day (1752) reappeared at Berlin as unexpectedly as he had quitted it, and
+quickly resumed his old relations there, which proved as busy and significant as
+before. Lessing again maintained himself by authorship, but this time his
+productions were riper. He published several volumes of his writings. They
+contained treatises composed at Wittenberg, Rehabilitations (<i>Rettungen</i>)
+of distinguished men, whom he held the world had maligned, as well as several
+plays, among which were the 'Jews,' 'The Woman-hater,' 'The Freethinker,' 'The
+Treasure,' as well as the fragmentary play 'Samuel Henzi,' a novel attempt to
+treat of modern historical incidents on the stage. A somewhat savage attack,
+entitled 'Vade mecum,' in which he criticised unsparingly a certain Pastor
+Lange's rendering of 'Horace,' drew upon Lessing the attention of the learned
+world, and since he was in the right in his strictures, they regarded him with
+mingled fear and admiration. His renewed criticisms in Voss's <i>Gazette</i>
+further maintained his reputation as a redoubtable critic.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">These were happy, hopeful years in Lessing's life; he enjoyed
+his work, and it brought him success. He had, moreover, formed some of the
+warmest friendships of his life with the bookseller Nicolai and the philosopher
+Moses Mendelssohn. With the former he discoursed on English literature, with the
+latter, on ĉsthetic and metaphysical themes. Their frequent reunions were
+sources of mental refreshment and invigoration to all three. What cared Lessing
+that his resources were meagre, he could live, and his father was growing more
+reconciled now that men of established repute lauded his son's works. Together
+with Mendelssohn, Lessing wrote an essay on a theme propounded by the Berlin
+Academy, 'Pope a Metaphysician!' that did not obtain the prize, as it ridiculed
+the learned body which had proposed a ridiculous theme, but it attracted notice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the year 1755 Lessing wrote 'Miss Sara Sampson,' a play
+that marks an epoch in his life and in German literature. It was the first
+German attempt at domestic drama, and was, moreover, written in prose instead of
+in the fashionable Alexandrines. The play was acted that same year at
+Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, and Lessing went to superintend in person. Its success
+was immense, and revived Lessing's love for the stage, which had rather flagged
+at Berlin from want of a theatre there. He accordingly resolved on this account
+to remove to Leipzig again, and disappeared from Berlin without announcing his
+intention to his friends.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At Leipzig he once more lived among the comedians, and carried
+on a lively correspondence with Mendelssohn on the philosophical theories of the
+drama in general, with especial reference to Aristotle. A proposal to act as
+travelling companion to a rich Leipzig merchant interrupted this life. The pair
+started early in the year 1756, intending a long absence that should include a
+visit to England. The trip, however, did not extend beyond Holland, as the Seven
+Years' War broke out. Prussian troops were stationed at Leipzig, and this caused
+Lessing's companion to desire return. Return they accordingly did, Lessing
+waiting all the winter for the resumption of their interrupted project. But as
+the prospects of peace grew more distant, their contract was annulled, much to
+Lessing's regret, and also to his severe pecuniary loss. He found himself at
+Leipzig penniless, the theatre closed by the war, and interest in letters
+deadened from the same cause. He contrived, however, to maintain himself by
+hack-work for the booksellers; but it was a dismal time, not devoid, however, of
+some redeeming lights. The poet Von Kleist was then stationed at Leipzig, and
+with him Lessing formed a friendship that proved one of his warmest and
+tenderest. On the removal of Kleist to active service, Lessing determined to
+quit Leipzig, which had grown distasteful to him in its military hubbub. In May
+1758 he once more appeared at Berlin, and fell into his former niche. He worked
+at his 'Fables,' wrote a play on the Greek models, 'Philotas,' began a life of
+Sophocles, and edited and translated several works of minor importance. But the
+chief labour of the period was the establishment of a journal dealing with
+contemporary literature. It was to be written tersely, as was suited to a time
+of war and general excitement; and to connect it with the war, it was couched in
+the form of letters purporting to be addressed to an officer in the field, who
+wished to be kept acquainted with current literature. Kleist was certainly in
+Lessing's mind when he began. The letters were to be written by Mendelssohn,
+Nicolai, and Lessing, but nearly all the earlier ones are from Lessing's pen.
+The papers made a great mark, from their bold strictures and independence. They
+did not belong to either of the recognised coteries, plainly placing themselves
+on a footing outside and above them. Though they were issued anonymously,
+Lessing was now sufficiently known, and it was not long before they were
+universally attributed to him. Their peculiar merit was that they did not merely
+condemn the contemporary productions, but showed the way to their improvement.
+They are throughout written with dialectic brilliancy, vigour, and lively wit,
+so that they are classics to this day, although their immediate themes are long
+removed from our interests From these 'Letters Concerning Contemporary
+Literature' our modern science of criticism may be said to date. After this,
+works were no longer merely judged by ancient standards, but by their
+application to the demands of the age in which they were written.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The news of Kleist's death affected Lessing severely, and so
+broke down his energies that he felt the imperative need of a change of scene.
+He therefore accepted an offer to act as secretary to General Tauentzien, who
+had been appointed Governor of Breslau. He followed him to that city in 1760,
+hoping to find renewed energies in a fixed employment that gave him good
+emolument and left him free time for self-culture.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lessing remained at this post for nearly five years, until the
+conclusion of the Seven Years' War, and though his letters of that period are
+very scanty, and though he gained evil repute at Breslau as a gambler and a
+tavern haunter, they were really the busiest and most studious years of his
+life. Here he read Spinoza and the Church Fathers, studied ĉsthetics and
+Winckelmann's newly issued 'History of Art,' wrote his 'Minna von Barnhelm,' and
+the 'Laokoon.' Their publication did not occur till his return to Berlin after
+the peace of Hubertsburg, when Lessing threw up his appointment, greatly to the
+dismay of his family, who had reckoned on it as a permanent resource. But
+Lessing had had enough of soldiers and military life, he had exhausted all they
+could teach him, and he craved to resume his studious and independent existence.
+He did not like it on resumption so well as he had thought he should at a
+distance. Restlessness seized him. He wanted to travel; to see Italy. His
+friends desired an appointment for him as royal librarian. He applied for the
+post, and was kept for some time in uncertainty. He failed, however, owing to
+Frederick's dislike to German learned men, and it was in vain that Lessing's
+friends pleaded that he was anything but the typical German pedant, uncouth,
+unkempt, who was Frederick's <i>bête noire</i>. To prove his efficiency for the
+post, Lessing had published his 'Laokoon.' He published it as a fragment, and,
+like too many of Lessing's works, it never grew beyond that stage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But <i>torso</i> as it is, its influence has been far
+spreading. The science of ĉsthetics was in its infancy when Lessing wrote.
+Pedantic and conventional rules were laid down regarding beauty, and the
+greatest confusion of ideas existed concerning the provinces and limits of the
+respective arts. Poetry and painting were treated as arts identical in purpose
+and scope; indeed each was advised to borrow aid from the resources of the
+other. Simonides' dictum that &quot;Painting is silent poetry, and poetry eloquent
+painting,&quot; was regarded as an incontrovertible axiom. Winckelmann's lately
+published 'History of Art' had supported this view of the matter; a point of
+view that encouraged allegorical painting and didactic poetry. The 'Laokoon'
+strove to expose the radical error of this idea, as its second title, 'or the
+boundaries of Poetry and Painting,' proves. The conclusions established by the
+'Laokoon' have become to-day the very groundwork of cultured art criticism, and
+though the somewhat narrow scope of its ĉsthetic theory has been extended, the
+basis remains untouched and unshaken. The book is of as much value now as upon
+its first appearance. Its luminous distinctions, its suggestive utterances,
+point the way to exact truth, even where they do not define it. Like the
+celebrated Torso of the Vatican, it can be made an object of constant study, and
+every fresh investigation will reveal new beauties, new subtle traits of
+artistic comprehension hitherto overlooked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This work, so grand and ultimately fruitful, fell,
+nevertheless, very flat on its first issue, and only gradually assumed the
+position that was its due. It had indeed to educate its public, so new were the
+principles it enunciated. Three years after its publication, Lessing told a
+friend that hardly any one seemed to know at what goal he had aimed in his
+'Laokoon.' Critics arose in plenty, but their criticism was of such a character
+that Lessing, usually so combative, did not hold them worthy of a reply. Little
+wonder, therefore, that even the discerning Frederick did not recognise the
+value of its author, and finally decided against Lessing's appointment as royal
+librarian.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In November 1766 Lessing describes himself as standing idly in
+the market-place waiting for hire. He was discontented with his surroundings,
+eager to find himself in a wider and more congenial mental atmosphere than that
+of Berlin, uncertain whither to turn, and hampered by money difficulties,
+private debts and family demands. At this juncture an invitation from Hamburg
+reached him, which at the first aspect seemed to open out a future peculiarly
+suited to Lessing's tastes and idiosyncrasies. An association of rich burghers
+had conceived the idea of founding a national theatre, which, liberally endowed,
+and thus removed from the region of pecuniary speculation, could devote itself
+exclusively to the cultivation of high art, and thus raise the national standard
+of taste. A dramatic critic and adviser was to belong to the establishment, and
+this post was offered to Lessing with a salary of 800 thalers. He accepted with
+alacrity, and repaired to Hamburg in the confidence of having at last found a
+niche well suited to his capacity. At the worst, he had nothing to lose and
+everything to gain by this step, and he gladly turned his back on Berlin, now
+distasteful to him. He hoped to throw himself once more into dramatic labours,
+and to find himself in contact with the living stage. Only too speedily his
+hopes were destined to disappointment. He had not been long at Hamburg before,
+notwithstanding all his power of illusion, he could not disguise from himself
+the fact that the project that sounded so noble and disinterested really rested
+on no higher basis than that of miserable stage cabals.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before issuing the first number of his paper, the 'Hamburger
+Dramaturgie,' a critical journal, which was to accompany the art of the author
+and actor throughout the representations, he already knew that the project begun
+with such high hopes must end in a miserable
+<i>fiasco</i>. Still he set to work upon his journal undauntedly, determined
+that it should, as far as it lay in his power, serve the purposes of the drama
+and instruct the populace as to the full import and aim of this noble art. The
+paper was a weekly one, the criticisms, therefore, had the merit of being
+thoroughly thought out and digested, not written like our modern theatrical
+criticisms under the very glare of the foot-lights. Lessing analysed the plays
+and their performance; he pointed out not only where, but why actors had erred;
+his sure perception and accurate knowledge of stage routine made him an
+invaluable guide to the performers. His criticisms, had they been continued,
+would have laid the basis of a science of histrionics, but unhappily for the
+world, the wretched vanity of the <i>artistes</i>, some of whom he had ventured
+gently to condemn, caused him to desist from this portion of his criticism. He
+confined himself solely to the play performed. After a while, however, even this
+did not suffice; bad management, stage cabals, private jealousy, and clerical
+intrigues, had undermined the slender popularity of the theatre. Before the end
+of its first year, the house saw itself forced to close its doors, thanks to
+creditors and to the rival and superior attractions of a company of French
+comedians. It is true the German troupe returned in the spring to make a final
+effort, but this also proved a failure; the debts were only increased, and the
+throng of creditors who besieged the box-office was so great that the public
+could not have entered if it had tried. In November (1768) the theatre finally
+closed its doors.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Transeat cum cĉteris erroribus</i>, was Lessing's comment
+on the event. He was the poorer by another hope, and not only poorer in spirit
+but in fact. The promised salary had not been paid, the sale of his rich library
+would not suffice for his debts and needs, and he had moreover hampered himself
+with a printing-press that only helped yet more to cripple his means. His
+position was a sorry one. Literary work was once more his only resource. It
+happened that he had from the first been in arrears with his journal, first
+advisedly, then from a tendency to procrastination that befell him whenever the
+first white heat of interest had been expended. He now determined to continue
+it, employing it as a vehicle for his own opinions under the cover of criticisms
+of the national theatre, which he still hoped against hope might not be utterly
+defunct.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The 'Dramaturgy' is the permanent result of this shipwrecked
+undertaking, itself a fragment--for after a while Lessing wearied of it, and
+piratical reprints robbed him of the slender profit--but a fragment like the
+'Laokoon,' full of suggestive truths and flashes of elucidation. As an entire
+work it is not as homogeneous in design as the 'Laokoon'; no connected or
+definite thread of reasoning pervades it, its perusal requires more independent
+thought from the reader, who must form his own conclusions, they are not worked
+out before him as in the 'Laokoon.' But in its ultimate results it is no less
+valuable, and has been no less effective. It freed the German stage from bondage
+to French pseudo-classicisms by its scornful exposure of the perversions
+practised by the Gallic authors under the cloak of Aristotelian laws. Lessing
+showed the divergence between real and absolute, and fanciful and perverted
+rules. He pointed out how the three unities insisted on by the French had been
+often violated by them in the spirit if not in the letter. He demonstrated the
+real meaning of Aristotle; and enabled, by his exact classical knowledge, to
+place himself on the actual stand-point of the ancients, he exposed the
+meretricious imitations of the French, that had been too long passed off as
+genuine. He referred the Germans to Shakespeare as a far truer follower of
+Sophocles than Voltaire or Corneille, and he illustrated his conclusions by
+excerpts and digressions remote from the subject presumed to be under treatment,
+and which had first started this train of thought. Until now the French had
+prescribed the sole standard of good taste. Lessing wished to destroy this
+unthinking veneration, and lead his nation back to the true sources of
+inspiration, and he fought with an iconoclastic zeal against all distortions,
+and all confusions of ĉsthetic boundaries. In a measure, indeed, the
+'Dramaturgy' supplements the 'Laokoon', for in the latter work Lessing had
+distinctly referred to the drama as the highest expression of poetry, and he had
+placed poetry above the arts of design in its results and capacities. Once more
+he displays his subtlety in discriminating between the various constituents of
+the complex feelings produced by art, and his rare faculty of combining ĉsthetic
+sensibility with logical criticism constitutes one of his grand claims to
+originality. The 'Dramaturgy' must be regarded rather as a collection of [Greek:
+epea pteroenta], than a systematic book. This remark applies, indeed, to all
+Lessing's prose writings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The 'Dramaturgy' was not the only work that occupied Lessing
+at Hamburg. A certain Professor Klotz had been for some time past attacking
+Lessing's writings, and had done this in a spirit of arrogant superiority that
+roused his ire. A remark that Lessing had been guilty of &quot;an unpardonable
+fault,&quot; in an archaeological matter, wherein Klotz himself was plainly in error,
+brought matters to a crisis, and drew down on Klotz a series of 'Letters
+treating of Antiquarian Subjects,' that utterly demolished both the man and his
+conclusions. A private feud gave occasion to this publication, but, like all
+that Lessing wrote, it is full of matter of permanent worth. Cameos and engraved
+gems form the ground-work of the controversy that was waged fast and furiously
+for some months, until at last Lessing silenced his adversary. The
+archaeological studies that it necessitated had awakened afresh Lessing's
+artistic interests and provoked the charming little essay, 'How the Ancients
+represented Death,' that starting as a polemic against Klotz, ended in becoming
+a finished and exquisite whole.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">About this time (1772) Lessing received encouragement from
+Vienna to settle in the Austrian dominions, but as the offers concerned the
+theatre he declined compliance, still feeling sore from his late experiences.
+The old desire to visit Italy was once more uppermost, his restless activity had
+exhausted the slender intellectual resources of Hamburg. But he was once more
+hampered by money difficulties. He vacillated for a while between remaining and
+leaving, and finally accepted an appointment at the Brunswick Court as librarian
+of the Wolfenbüttel Library, with the proviso that this appointment should not
+permanently interfere with his projected Italian journey. His salary was to be
+600 thalers, with an official residence; his duties were undefined. The Duke,
+who recognised Lessing's eminence, wished to attach him to his Court, and
+desired that Lessing should use the library for his personal convenience rather
+than as its custodian. The post promised well, though Lessing entered on it with
+reluctance; his love of freedom causing him at any time to shrink from any
+definite appointment. He loved, as he himself expressed it, to be like the
+sparrow on the housetops, but considerations hitherto unknown contributed to
+induce him to seek a settled post and establish his affairs on a more permanent
+basis than heretofore. The wish to marry had become awakened in him at the
+mature age of forty; he had made the acquaintance in Hamburg of a Madame Koenig,
+a widow, the first woman who had seriously roused his interest. Business
+complications of her late husband's and the charge of a family made union
+impossible for some little time, but Lessing had not been long at Wolfenbüttel
+before a formal engagement was entered upon whose ultimate fulfilment it was
+confidently expected would not be too long deferred. It was deferred, however,
+for the space of six years--years that were the weariest and saddest in
+Lessing's life, and mark the only time when his healthful optimism, his sanguine
+cheerfulness broke into complaint and yielded to depression of mind. Physical
+causes were at work as well as mental. Wolfenbüttel was an old deserted capital,
+devoid of society, and Lessing, who loved to mingle with his fellow-creatures,
+saw himself banished from any intelligent human intercourse, unless he undertook
+the somewhat expensive journey to Brunswick. At Hamburg he had lived in an
+active and intellectual circle; here he found himself thrown back upon himself
+and books. His heart and thoughts were with Madame Koenig, her business affairs
+went badly; their rare meetings only further strengthened his desire to claim as
+his own this the only woman who understood him and felt with him. The promised
+leave of absence, too, for Italy, was constantly deferred under futile pretexts,
+and thus depressed, dispirited, Lessing could not feel within himself the
+capability of original production. At the same time he did not feel it right or
+wise to neglect the resources placed within his reach by the excellent library
+of which he was custodian; he ransacked its manuscript treasures, and published
+some of them. He also in a brief period of renewed happiness and mental vigour,
+that followed a visit to Hamburg and a meeting with Madame Koenig, wrote his
+famous tragedy 'Emilia Galotti.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This drama is an illustration of the principles enunciated by
+Lessing in his 'Dramaturgy;' its condensation is a protest against the verbosity
+of the French, its form an approach to Shakespeare; while its tendency is a
+stricture on the abuses practised at petty Courts. The latter was a bold
+innovation, considering that at the time Lessing wrote and produced this play he
+was himself the servant of a Court, enlightened and liberal it is true, but
+libertine and despotic; and that parallels could not fail to be drawn by the
+malevolent between Brunswick and Guastalla. The story is a modernised version of
+that of Virginia, but the catastrophe is not equally harmonious, because not so
+absolutely necessitated by the conditions of modern society as by those of the
+ancient world. Still the play is in many respects inimitable; the manner in
+which the story is developed and unravelled renders it a model to young
+dramatists; nothing superfluous, nothing obscure, no needless retrogressions, no
+violent transitions. Lessing's contemporaries were not slow to recognise that he
+had presented them with a master-piece. He himself after its completion had sunk
+back into his former mood of irritated depression, and he would not even be
+present at the first representation. This mood was in great part physical, but
+was also the result of circumstances. He was anxious and uneasy. The hereditary
+prince had held out hopes to him, but their fulfilment was too long deferred;
+Madame Koenig's affairs grew more and more involved, the solitude of
+Wolfenbüttel more and more arid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last his restless spirit could brook this position no
+longer. Heedless of Madame Koenig's warning prayers not to bring matters to an
+abrupt crisis, to have patience with the Court whose financial position at the
+time was truly a sorry one, Lessing one day broke away from Wolfenbüttel and
+appeared at Berlin, whence he applied for an extended leave of absence to
+Vienna, where Madame Koenig's business had lately required her presence. He
+reassures her that he has not burnt his ships behind him, and this was true, but
+he wished to ascertain for himself how matters stood with her, and also if there
+was, any opening for him in that capital. He arrived at Vienna in March 1775,
+and found Madame Koenig's affairs so far advanced towards settlement as to
+justify him in entertaining hopes of a speedy union.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the evil fortune that seemed to run like a fatal thread
+through Lessing's life whenever he found himself near the fulfilment of an
+ardent desire again asserted itself. He had not been ten days in Vienna before
+one of the younger princes of the house of Brunswick arrived there also on his
+way to Italy. He wished to have Lessing as his travelling companion. Thus a long
+cherished desire was to be realised at the moment when a far stronger one had
+usurped its place. Lessing debated for some time what he should do, but on
+consideration with Madame Koenig, it was decided to be unwise to offend the
+prince whose earnest wish for Lessing's companionship was supported by the
+Empress Maria Theresa, and moreover the projected journey was only to extend
+over eight weeks; consequently the parting and delay would be brief, while the
+ultimate consequences of having obliged the ducal house at personal
+inconvenience might be incalculable. The journey extended to nine months, and
+was a period of misery to Lessing. He never received a line from Madame Koenig
+all this time, her letters having all miscarried, thanks to the officious zeal
+of her Vienna acquaintances, and he tortured himself with fears lest she were
+ill or dead. Neither did he write to her, nor keep a diary, beyond the very
+briefest records of some discoveries in libraries. Not a word about the art, the
+scenery of the land he had so craved to see. He perceived quickly enough that it
+could offer all, and more than he had anticipated, but, added to his private
+anxieties, this travelling in the suite of a prince was not propitious to the
+proper enjoyment of Italy. Receptions, formal dinners, deputations, at all of
+which Lessing had to be present, engrossed the precious time that should have
+been devoted to more intellectual pursuits.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Transeat cum cĉteris erroribus</i>, Lessing might again
+have written when he returned to Germany in December. He hastened to Vienna to
+learn news of his beloved, and there a whole packet of her letters were put into
+his hands--those letters the want of which had preyed upon his heart. He was now
+more fully determined than ever to bring matters to a crisis; if the Brunswick
+Court would not improve his position he would seek employment elsewhere; at the
+very worst he could not fare worse than he was at present faring. His resolution
+triumphed, his salary was raised, his position improved, and on the 8th of
+October, 1776, he was at last united to the woman of his choice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then followed a very heyday of happiness to Lessing; he was at
+last content, at peace; his wife understood him and felt with him; she was his
+stay, his pride, his joy. But once more the evil fate was at work, and could not
+permit of ease to this poor victim she pursued so relentlessly. Early in January
+(1778) Lessing saw his wife and baby boy laid in the grave. The brief sunshine
+which had illumined his path had vanished for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The letters written by him at the time are more pathetic in
+their stoic brevity than folios of lamentations. There were no further hopes of
+happiness for him on earth; he must just resign himself and work on at his
+appointed labour until he too should be laid to rest. He turned with an ardour
+that was almost furious to encounter the assailants of his last literary
+publication. Since his appointment as Wolfenbüttel librarian Lessing had from
+time to time published some of its manuscript treasures, and among these he had
+inserted portions of a work that had been intrusted to him, and which he deemed
+ought not to be withheld from the light of day. These were the famous
+Wolfenbüttel Fragments issued anonymously by Lessing, but really the work of a
+deceased Hamburger, Professor Reimarus. Their publication drew down upon Lessing
+a fury of rancorous abuse, and involved him in a vortex of controversy that
+lasted till his death. The chief and most vehement of his opponents was Pastor
+J. M. Goeze, whose insulting polemic reached him by the bedside of his dying
+wife. Its malignant and unjustified attacks roused Lessing's energy. He assailed
+Goeze with all the strength of his grief, for which he was thankful to find a
+safety-valve in controversy. The work of Reimarus had advocated rationalism;
+Lessing had distinctly placed himself in position of editor, and pronounced that
+he did not of necessity subscribe to the opinions therein enunciated, but he
+found in their reasoning much food for thought, and with his almost romantic
+passion for truth he deemed that such matter should not be withheld from the
+world. Goeze chose to consider that Lessing was sailing under false colours,
+that the fragments were his own composition, and that he was undermining the
+national faith. Lessing replied to Goeze's insults by a series of fourteen
+letters, entitled 'Anti-Goeze,' which actually silenced his opponent, who had
+never been known before to allow an adversary the last word. They are written in
+a serio-comic tone, and for sparkling wit, trenchant sarcasm, and dramatic
+dialectics surpass anything ever penned by Lessing. No less admirable is his
+accurate theological knowledge and his large-minded comprehension of the
+purposes of religion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The same noble spirit pervades his 'Nathan the Wise,' which he
+wrote about this time as a relief to his controversial discussions, and as
+another protest against the narrow-minded assumptions of the professional
+theologians. Lessing had ever contended that the stage might prove as useful a
+pulpit as the church, and in 'Nathan' he strove to preach the universal
+brotherhood of mankind; its hero is a Jew of ideal and pure morality. The whole
+purpose of the drama was a stricture on class prejudices and an enunciation of
+the innate truth that underlies all forms of creeds. The play is too well known
+even in this country to require much comment; it is a noble monument of
+toleration and large-mindedness, and the fact that he could produce it under the
+load of a crushing sorrow speaks volumes for the true earnest religious faith
+that dwelt in Lessing's nature. At the time its pure tendencies were not
+understood. Lessing had progressed beyond the comprehension of his age, and the
+inevitable consequences ensued,--misconstruction and mental loneliness. He began
+to be regarded with suspicion as a dangerous innovator; even old friends held
+aloof in doubt. Meanwhile his only comfort remained in his home, in the
+step-children, whom his wife had brought thither. His step-daughter was his
+tender and attentive companion, for since his wife's death Lessing's health had
+declined, and he required care. Though no trace of impaired vigour appears in
+his writings of the period, which indeed are animated by an exhilarating
+vitality, yet too evident traces of impaired vigour appeared in himself. He grew
+languid, an excessive inclination to sleep overpowered him; he suffered from
+attacks of vertigo. Yet as long as he could hold a pen he should write, he told
+his brother,--write in the cause of what he firmly held to be the truth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A small pamphlet, consisting of a hundred propositions,
+entitled 'The Education of the Human Race,' was his next production, a work
+pregnant with thought that opens out wide vistas of knowledge and progress to
+mankind. Lessing indeed was the first man of his century to formulate the modern
+doctrine of progress; he preached a true millennium of toleration, love, and
+knowledge; he distinctly proclaimed his faith in the immortality of the soul.
+'The Education of the Human Race' is a splendid disavowal of his enemies'
+calumnious assertions. It was a glorious swan-song, wherewith he lulled himself
+into eternal peace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On one of his official visits to Brunswick, Lessing was
+overtaken by a paralytic stroke. On the 15th of February, 1781, he passed away.
+He died as he lived, nobly, in a reverent assurance that he had fought a good
+fight on earth in the cause of truth and enlightenment, progress and humanity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Time, the true criterion of human fame, has not only left his
+glory undiminished, but has augmented it, as popular intelligence has gradually
+arisen to the comprehension of its many-sided significance. It will be long
+before we have outgrown Lessing, if indeed that time can ever come. And even if
+some things in his writings may seem narrow or antiquated to our vision, we may
+readily pass them over to arrive at matters eternally true, exalted, sublime.
+Truth was the main purpose of all he wrote, and truth is for all ages and all
+time. Lessing was one of the truly great ones of this earth, and petty cavillers
+should lay to heart the words of another wise man, the author of 'The
+Imitation:'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All perfection in this world has some imperfection coupled
+with it, and none of our investigations are without some obscurity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="sc">Helen Zimmern</span>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1Ref_Sara" href="#div1_Sara">MISS SARA SAMPSON.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.</h3>
+
+<hr class="W20">
+<p class="normal">Miss Sara Sampson, the first of Lessing's tragedies, was
+completed in the year 1755, while Lessing was at Potsdam. In the same year it
+was represented at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, and was very well received. It was
+afterwards translated and acted in France, where it also met with success.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The present is the first English translation which has
+appeared.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONĈ.</h2>
+<div style="margin-left:20%">
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Sir William Sampson</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss <span class="sc">Sara Sampson</span>, <i>his daughter</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Mellefont</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Marwood</span>, <i>formerly </i><span class="sc">Mellefont's </span><i>mistress</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Arabella</span>, <i>a child, daughter of </i><span class="sc">Marwood</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Waitwell</span>, <i>an old servant of </i><span class="sc">Sir William</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Norton</span>, <i>servant of </i><span class="sc">Mellefont</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Betty, Sara's </span><i>maid</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Hannah, Marwood's </span><i>maid</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Innkeeper </span><i>and others</i>.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>MISS SARA SAMPSON.</h1>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="W10">
+
+<br>
+<h2>ACT I.</h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>A room in an inn</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sir William Sampson, Waitwell</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">   My daughter, here? Here in this wretched inn?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No doubt, Mellefont has purposely selected the most wretched
+one in the town. The wicked always seek the darkness, because they are wicked.
+But what would it help them, could they even hide themselves from the whole
+world? Conscience after all is more powerful than the accusations of a world.
+Ah, you are weeping again, again, Sir!--Sir!</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let me weep, my honest old servant! Or does she not, do you
+think, deserve my tears?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas! She deserves them, were they tears of blood.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, let me weep!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The best, the loveliest, the most innocent child that ever
+lived beneath the sun, must thus be led astray! Oh, my Sara, my little Sara! I
+have watched thee grow; a hundred times have I carried thee as a child in these
+arms, have I admired thy smiles, thy lispings. From every childish look beamed
+forth the dawn of an intelligence, a kindliness, a----</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, be silent! Does not the present rend my heart enough? Will
+you make my tortures more infernal still by recalling past happiness? Change
+your tone, if you will do me a service. Reproach me, make of my tenderness a
+crime, magnify my daughter's fault; fill me with abhorrence of her, if you can;
+stir up anew my revenge against her cursed seducer; say, that Sara never was
+virtuous, since she so lightly ceased to be so; say that she never loved me,
+since she clandestinely forsook me!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If I said that, I should utter a lie, a shameless, wicked lie.
+It might come to me again on my death-bed, and I, old wretch, would die in
+despair. No, little Sara has loved her father; and doubtless, doubtless she
+loves him yet. If you will only be convinced of this, I shall see her again in
+your arms this very day.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, Waitwell, of this alone I ask to be convinced. I cannot
+any longer live without her; she is the support of my age, and if she does not
+help to sweeten the sad remaining days of my life, who shall do it? If she loves
+me still, her error is forgotten. It was the error of a tender-hearted maiden,
+and her flight was the result of her remorse. Such errors are better than forced
+virtues. Yet I feel, Waitwell, I feel it, even were these errors real crimes,
+premeditated vices--even then I should forgive her. I would rather be loved by a
+wicked daughter, than by none at all.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dry your tears, dear sir! I hear some one. It will be the
+landlord coming to welcome us.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The</i> <span class="sc">Landlord, Sir
+William Sampson, Waitwell</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>LANDLORD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So early, gentlemen, so early? You are welcome; welcome,
+Waitwell! You have doubtless been travelling all night! Is that the gentleman,
+of whom you spoke to me yesterday?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, it is he, and I hope that in accordance with what we
+settled----</p>
+
+<h3>LANDLORD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am entirely at your service, my lord. What is it to me,
+whether I know or not, what cause has brought you hither, and why you wish to
+live in seclusion in my house? A landlord takes his money and lets his guests do
+as they think best. Waitwell, it is true, has told me that you wish to observe
+the stranger a little, who has been staying here for a few weeks with his young
+wife, but I hope that you will not cause him any annoyance. You would bring my
+house into ill repute and certain people would fear to stop here. Men like us
+must live on people of all kinds.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not fear; only conduct me to the room which Waitwell has
+ordered for me; I come here for an honourable purpose.</p>
+
+<h3>LANDLORD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have no wish to know your secrets, my lord! Curiosity is by
+no means a fault of mine. I might for instance have known long ago, who the
+stranger is, on whom you want to keep a watch, but I have no wish to know. This
+much however I have discovered, that he must have eloped with the young lady.
+The poor little wife--or whatever she may be!--remains the whole day long locked
+up in her room, and cries.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And cries?</p>
+
+<h3>LANDLORD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, and cries; but, my lord, why do your tears fall? The
+young lady must interest you deeply. Surely you are not----</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not detain him any longer!</p>
+
+<h3>LANDLORD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Come, come! One wall only will separate you from the lady in
+whom you are so much interested, and who may be----</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You mean then at any cost to know, who----</p>
+
+<h3>LANDLORD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, Waitwell! I have no wish to know anything.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Make haste, then, and take us to our rooms, before the whole
+house begins to stir.</p>
+
+<h3>LANDLORD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Will you please follow me, then, my lord? (<i>Exeunt</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> III.--<span class="sc">Mellefont's </span>
+<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>room</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Norton</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>in dressing-gown, sitting in an easy chair</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Another night, which I could not have spent more cruelly on
+the rack!--(<i>calls</i>) Norton!--I must make haste to get sight of a face or two. If
+I remained alone with my thoughts any longer, they might carry me too far. Hey,
+Norton! He is still asleep. But is not it cruel of me, not to let the poor devil
+sleep? How happy he is! However, I do not wish any one about me to be happy!
+Norton!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>coming</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sir!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dress me!--Oh, no sour looks please! When I shall be able to
+sleep longer myself I will let you do the same. If you wish to do your duty, at
+least have pity on me.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pity, sir! Pity on you? I know better where pity is due.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And where then?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, let me dress you and don't ask.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Confound it! Are <i>your</i> reproofs then to awaken together
+with my conscience? I understand you; I know on whom you expend your pity. But I
+will do justice to her and to myself. Quite right, do not have any pity on me!
+Curse me in your heart; but--curse yourself also!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Myself also?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, because you serve a miserable wretch, whom earth ought
+not to bear, and because you have made yourself a partaker in his crimes.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I made myself a partaker in your crimes? In what way?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">By keeping silent about them.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, that is good! A word would have cost me my neck in the
+heat of your passions. And, besides, did I not find you already so bad, when I
+made your acquaintance, that all hope of amendment was vain? What a life I have
+seen you leading from the first moment! In the lowest society of gamblers and
+vagrants--I call them what they were without regard to their knightly titles and
+such like--in this society you squandered a fortune which might have made a way
+for you to an honourable position. And your culpable intercourse with all sorts
+of women, especially with the wicked Marwood----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Restore me--restore me to that life. It was virtue compared
+with the present one. I spent my fortune; well! The punishment follows, and I
+shall soon enough feel all the severity and humiliation of want. I associated
+with vicious women; that may be. I was myself seduced more often than I seduced
+others; and those whom I did seduce wished it. But--I still had no ruined virtue
+upon my conscience. I had carried off no Sara from the house of a beloved father
+and forced her to follow a scoundrel, who was no longer free. I had----who
+comes so early to me?</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Betty</span>, <span class="sc">Mellefont</span>, <span class="sc">
+Norton</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is Betty.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Up already, Betty? How is your mistress?</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How is she? (<i>sobbing</i>.) It was long after midnight before I
+could persuade her to go to bed. She slept a few moments; but God, what a sleep
+that must have been! She started suddenly, sprang up and fell into my arms, like
+one pursued by a murderer. She trembled, and a cold perspiration started on her
+pale face. I did all I could to calm her, but up to this morning she has only
+answered me with silent tears. At length she sent me several times to your door
+to listen whether you were up. She wishes to speak to you. You alone can comfort
+her. O do so, dearest sir, do so! My heart will break, if she continues to fret
+like this.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go, Betty! Tell her, I shall be with her in a moment,</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, she wishes to come to you herself.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, tell her, then, that I am awaiting her----</p>
+<p class="t7" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">(<i>Exit</i>
+Betty.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont</span>, <span class="sc">Norton</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O God, the poor young lady!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whose feelings is this exclamation of yours meant to rouse?
+See, the first tear which I have shed since my childhood is running down my
+cheek. A bad preparation for receiving one who seeks comfort. But why does she
+seek it from me? Yet where else shall she seek it? I must collect myself (<i>drying
+his eyes</i>). Where is the old firmness with which I could see a beautiful eye
+in tears? Where is the gift of dissimulation gone by which I could be and could
+say whatsoever I wished? She will come now and weep tears that brook no
+resistance. Confused and ashamed I shall stand before her; like a convicted
+criminal I shall stand before her. Counsel me, what shall I do? What shall I
+say?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You shall do what she asks of you!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I shall then perpetrate a fresh act of cruelty against her.
+She is wrong to blame me for delaying a ceremony which cannot be performed in
+this country without the greatest injury to us.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, leave it, then. Why do we delay? Why do you let one day
+after the other pass, and one week after the other? Just give me the order, and
+you will be safe on board to-morrow! Perhaps her grief will not follow her over
+the ocean; she may leave part of it behind, and in another land may----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I hope that myself. Silence! She is coming! How my heart
+throbs!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sara</span>, <span class="sc">Mellefont</span>, <span class="sc">
+Norton</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>advancing towards her</i></span>).</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You have had a restless night, dearest Sara.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas, Mellefont, if it were nothing but a restless night.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to his servant</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Leave us!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside, in going</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I would not stay if I was paid in gold for every moment.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sara</span>, <span class="sc">Mellefont</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are faint, dearest Sara! You must sit down!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>sits down</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I trouble you very early! Will you forgive me that with the
+morning I again begin my complaints?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dearest Sara, you mean to say that you cannot forgive me,
+because another morning has dawned, and I have not yet put an end to your
+complaints?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What is there that I would not forgive you? You know what I
+have already forgiven you. But the ninth week, Mellefont! the ninth week begins
+to-day, and this miserable house still sees me in just the same position as on
+the first day.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You doubt my love?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I doubt your love? No, I feel my misery too much, too much to
+wish to deprive myself of this last and only solace.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How, then, can you be uneasy about the delay of a ceremony?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Mellefont! Why is it that we think so differently about
+this ceremony! Yield a little to the woman's way of thinking! I imagine in it a
+more direct consent from Heaven. In vain did I try again, only yesterday, in the
+long tedious evening, to adopt your ideas, and to banish from my breast the
+doubt which just now--not for the first time, you have deemed the result of my
+distrust. I struggled with myself; I was clever enough to deafen my
+understanding; but my heart and my feeling quickly overthrew this toilsome
+structure of reason. Reproachful voices roused me from my sleep, and my
+imagination united with them to torment me. What pictures, what dreadful
+pictures hovered about me! I would willingly believe them to be dreams----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What? Could my sensible Sara believe them to be anything else?
+Dreams, my dearest, dreams!--How unhappy is man!--Did not his Creator find
+tortures enough for him in the realm of reality? Had he also to create in him
+the still more spacious realm of imagination in order to increase them?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not accuse Heaven! It has left the imagination in our
+power. She is guided by our acts; and when these are in accordance with our
+duties and with virtue the imagination serves only to increase our peace and
+happiness. A single act, Mellefont, a single blessing bestowed upon us by a
+messenger of peace, in the name of the Eternal One, can restore my shattered
+imagination again. Do you still hesitate to do a few days sooner for love of me,
+what in any case you mean to do at some future time? Have pity on me, and
+consider that, although by this you may be freeing me only from torments of the
+imagination, yet these imagined torments are torments, and are real torments for
+her who feels them. Ah! could I but tell you the terrors of the last night half
+as vividly as I have felt them. Wearied with crying and grieving--my only
+occupations--I sank down on my bed with half-closed eyes. Sly nature wished to
+recover itself a moment, to collect new tears. But hardly asleep yet, I suddenly
+saw myself on the steepest peak of a terrible rock. You went on before, and I
+followed with tottering, anxious steps, strengthened now and then by a glance
+which you threw back upon me. Suddenly I heard behind me a gentle call, which
+bade me stop. It was my father's voice--I unhappy one, can I forget nothing
+which is his? Alas if his memory renders him equally cruel service; if he too
+cannot forget me!--But he has forgotten me. Comfort! cruel comfort for his
+Sara!--But, listen, Mellefont! In turning round to this well-known voice, my
+foot slipped; I reeled, and was on the point of falling down the precipice, when
+just in time, I felt myself held back by one who resembled myself. I was just
+returning her my passionate thanks, when she drew a dagger from her bosom. &quot;I
+saved you,&quot; she cried, &quot;to ruin you!&quot; She lifted her armed hand--and--! I awoke
+with the blow. Awake, I still felt all the pain which a mortal stab must give,
+without the pleasure which it brings--the hope for the end of grief in the end
+of life.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah! dearest Sara, I promise you the end of your grief, without
+the end of your life, which would certainly be the end of mine also. Forget the
+terrible tissue of a meaningless dream!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I look to you for the strength to be able to forget it. Be it
+love or seduction, happiness or unhappiness which threw me into your arms, I am
+yours in my heart and will remain so for ever. But I am not yet yours in the
+eyes of that Judge, who has threatened to punish the smallest transgressions of
+His law----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then may all the punishment fall upon me alone!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What can fall upon you, without touching me too? But do not
+misinterpret my urgent request! Another woman, after having forfeited her honour
+by an error like mine, might perhaps only seek to regain a part of it by a legal
+union. I do not think of that, Mellefont, because I do not wish to know of any
+other honour in this world than that of loving you. I do not wish to be united
+to you for the world's sake but for my own. And I will willingly bear the shame
+of not appearing to be so, when I am united to you. You need not then, if you do
+not wish, acknowledge me to be your wife, you may call me what you will! I will
+not bear your name; you shall keep our union as secret as you think good, and
+may I always be unworthy of it, if I ever harbour the thought of drawing any
+other advantage from it than the appeasing of my conscience.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Stop, Sara, or I shall die before your eyes. How wretched I
+am, that I have not the courage to make you more wretched still! Consider that
+you have given yourself up to my guidance; consider that it is my duty to look
+to our future, and that I must at present be deaf to your complaints, if I will
+not hear you utter more grievous complaints throughout the rest of your life.
+Have you then forgotten what I have so often represented to you in justification
+of my conduct?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have not forgotten it, Mellefont! You wish first to secure a
+certain bequest. You wish first to secure temporal goods, and you let me forfeit
+eternal ones, perhaps, through it.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Sara! If you were as certain of all temporal goods as your
+virtue is of the eternal ones----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My virtue? Do not say that word! Once it sounded sweet to me,
+but now a terrible thunder rolls in it!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What? Must he who is to be virtuous, never have committed a
+trespass? Has a single error such fatal effect that it can annihilate a whole
+course of blameless years? If so, no one is virtuous; virtue is then a chimera,
+which disperses in the air, when one thinks that one grasps it most firmly; if
+so, there is no Wise Being who suits our duties to our strength; if so,
+there is----I am frightened at the terrible conclusions in which your despondency
+must involve you. No, Sara, you are still the virtuous Sara that you were before
+your unfortunate acquaintance with me. If you look upon yourself with such cruel
+eyes, with what eyes must you regard me!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With the eyes of love, Mellefont!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I implore you, then, on my knees I implore you for the sake of
+this love, this generous love which overlooks all my unworthiness, to calm
+yourself! Have patience for a few days longer!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A few days! How long even a single day is!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Cursed bequest! Cursed nonsense of a dying cousin, who would
+only leave me his fortune on the condition that I should give my hand to a
+relation who hates me as much as I hate her! To you, inhuman tyrants of our
+freedom, be imputed all the misfortune, all the sin, into which your compulsion
+forces us. Could I but dispense with this degrading inheritance. As long as my
+father's fortune sufficed for my maintenance, I always scorned it, and did not
+even think it worthy of mentioning. But now, now, when I should like to possess
+all the treasures of the world only to lay them at the feet of my Sara, now,
+when I must contrive at least to let her appear in the world as befits her
+station, now I must have recourse to it.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Which probably will not be successful after all.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You always forbode the worst. No, the lady whom this also
+concerns is not disinclined to enter into a sort of agreement with me. The
+fortune is to be divided, and as she cannot enjoy the whole with me, she is
+willing to let me buy my liberty with half of it. I am every hour expecting the
+final intelligence, the delay of which alone has so prolonged our sojourn here.
+As soon as I receive it, we shall not remain here one moment longer. We will
+immediately cross to France, dearest Sara, where you shall find new friends, who
+already look forward to the pleasure of seeing and loving you. And these new
+friends shall be the witnesses of our union----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">They shall be the witnesses of our union? Cruel man, our
+union, then, is not to be in my native land? I shall leave my country as a
+criminal? And as such, you think, I should have the courage to trust myself to
+the ocean. The heart of him must be calmer or more impious than mine, who, only
+for a moment, can see with indifference between himself and destruction, nothing
+but a quivering plank. Death would roar at me in every wave that struck against
+the vessel, every wind would howl its curses after me from my native shore, and
+the slightest storm would seem a sentence of death pronounced upon me. No,
+Mellefont, you cannot be so cruel to me! If I live to see the completion of this
+agreement, you must not grudge another day, to be spent here. This must be the
+day, on which you shall teach me to forget the tortures of all these tearful
+days. This must be the sacred day--alas! which day will it be?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But do you consider, Sara, that our marriage here would lack
+those ceremonies which are due to it?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A sacred act does not acquire more force through ceremonies.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am astonished. You surely will not insist on such a trivial
+pretext? O Mellefont, Mellefont! had I not made for myself an inviolable law,
+never to doubt the sincerity of your love, this circumstance might----But too
+much of this already, it might seem as if I had been doubting it even now.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The first moment of your doubt would be the last moment of my
+life! Alas, Sara, what have I done, that you should remind me even of the
+possibility of it? It is true the confessions, which I have made to you without
+fear, of my early excesses cannot do me honour, but they should at least awaken
+confidence. A coquettish Marwood held me in her meshes, because I felt for her
+that which is so often taken for love which it so rarely is. I should still bear
+her shameful fetters, had not Heaven, which perhaps did not think my heart quite
+unworthy to bum with better flames, taken pity on me. To see you, dearest Sara,
+was to forget all Marwoods! But how dearly have you paid for taking me out of
+such hands! I had grown too familiar with vice, and you know it too little----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let us think no more of it.</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Norton, Mellefont, Sara</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you want?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">While I was standing before the house, a servant gave me this
+letter. It is directed to you, sir!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To me? Who knows my name here? (<i>looking at the letter</i>).
+Good heavens!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are startled.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But without cause, Sara, as I now perceive. I was mistaken in
+the handwriting.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">May the contents be as agreeable to you as you can wish.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I suspect that they will be of very little importance.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">One is less constrained when one is alone, so allow me to
+retire to my room again.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You entertain suspicions, then, about it?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not at all, Mellefont.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>going with her to the back of the stage</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I shall be with you in a moment, dearest Sara.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IX.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Norton</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>still looking at the letter</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Just Heaven!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Woe to you, if it is only just!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is it possible? I see this cursed handwriting again and am not
+chilled with terror? Is it she? Is it not she? Why do I still doubt? It is she!
+Alas, friend, a letter from Marwood! What fury, what demon has betrayed my abode
+to her? What does she still want from me? Go, make preparations immediately that
+we may get away from here. Yet stop! Perhaps it is unnecessary; perhaps the
+contempt of my farewell letters has only caused Marwood to reply with equal
+contempt. There, open the letter; read it! I am afraid to do it myself.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>reads</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you will deign, Mellefont, to glance at the name which you
+will find at the bottom of the page, it will be to me as though I had written
+you the longest of letters.&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Curse the name! Would I had never heard it! Would it could be
+erased from the book of the living!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>reads on</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The labour of finding you out has been sweetened by the love
+which helped me in my search.&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Love? Wanton creature! You profane the words which belong to
+virtue alone.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>continues</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Love has done more still&quot;----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I tremble----</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It has brought me to you&quot;----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Traitor, what are you reading? (<i>snatches the letter from
+his hand and reads himself</i>). &quot;I am here; and it rests with you, whether you
+will await a visit from me, or whether you will anticipate mine by one from you.
+Marwood.&quot; What a thunderbolt! She is here! Where is she? She shall atone for
+this audacity with her life!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With her life? One glance from her and you will be again at
+her feet. Take care what you do! You must not speak with her, or the misfortunes
+of your poor young lady will be complete.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O, wretched man that I am! No, I must speak with her! She
+would go even into Sara's room in search of me, and would vent all her rage on
+the innocent girl.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, sir----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not a word! Let me see (<i>looking at the letter</i>) whether
+she has given the address. Here it is! Come, show me the way!<span style="letter-spacing:2em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Exeunt</i>).</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT II.</h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span class="sc">Marwood's </span>
+<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>room
+in another inn</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marwood</span> (<i>in negligée</i>), <span class="sc">
+Hannah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I hope Belfort has delivered the letter at the right address,
+Hannah?</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He has.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To him himself?</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To his servant.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am all impatience to see what effect it will have. Do I not
+seem a little uneasy to you, Hannah? And I am so. The traitor! But gently! I
+must not on any account give way to anger. Forbearance, love, entreaty are the
+only weapons which I can use against him, if I rightly understand his weak side.</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But if he should harden himself against them?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If he should harden himself against them? Then I shall not be
+angry. I shall rave! I feel it, Hannah, and I would rather do so to begin with.</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Calm yourself! He may come at any moment.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I only hope he may come; I only hope he has not decided to
+await me on his own ground. But do you know, Hannah, on what I chiefly found my
+hopes of drawing away the faithless man from this new object of his love? On our
+Bella!</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is true, she is a little idol to him; and there could not
+have been a happier idea than that of bringing her with you.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Even if his heart should be deaf to an old love, the language
+of blood will at least be audible to him. He tore the child from my arms a short
+time ago under the pretext of wishing to give her an education such as she could
+not have with me. It is only by an artifice that I have been able to get her
+again from the lady who had charge of her. He had paid more than a year in
+advance, and had given strict orders the very day before his flight that they
+should by no means give admission to a certain Marwood, who would perhaps come
+and give herself out as mother of the child. From this order I see the
+distinction which he draws between us. He regards Arabella as a precious portion
+of himself, and me as an unfortunate creature, of whose charms he has grown
+weary.</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What ingratitude!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Hannah! Nothing more infallibly draws down ingratitude,
+than favours for which no gratitude would be too great. Why have I shown him
+these fatal favours? Ought I not to have foreseen that they could not always
+retain their value with him; that their value rested on the difficulty in the
+way of their enjoyment, and that the latter must disappear with the charm of our
+looks which the hand of time imperceptibly but surely effaces?</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You, Madam, have not anything to fear for a long time from
+this dangerous hand! To my mind your beauty is so far from having passed the
+point of its brightest bloom, that it is rather advancing towards it, and would
+enchain fresh hearts for you every day if you only would give it the permission.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be silent, Hannah! You flatter me on an occasion which makes
+me suspicious of any flattery. It is nonsense to speak of new conquests, if one
+has not even sufficient power to retain possession of those which one has
+already made.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Servant, Marwood, Hannah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one wishes to have the honour of speaking with you.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who is it?</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I suppose it is the gentleman to whom the letter was
+addressed. At least the servant to whom I delivered it is with him.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mellefont!--Quick, bring him up! (<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>.) Ah,
+Hannah! He is here now! How shall I receive him? What shall I say? What look
+shall I put on? Is this calm enough? Just see!</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Anything but calm.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This, then?</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Throw a little sweetness into it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So, perhaps?</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Too sad.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Would this smile do?</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Perfectly--only less constrained--He is coming.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Marwood, Hannah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>entering with wild gestures</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! Marwood----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>running to meet him smiling, and with open arms</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Mellefont!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The murderess! What a look!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I must embrace you, faithless, dear fugitive! Share my joy
+with me! Why do you tear yourself from my caresses!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I expected, Marwood, that you would receive me differently.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why differently? With more love, perhaps? With more delight?
+Alas, how unhappy I am, that I cannot express all that I feel! Do you not see,
+Mellefont, do you not see that joy, too, has its tears? Here they fall, the
+offspring of sweetest delight! But alas, vain tears! His hand does not dry you!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood, the time is gone, when such words would have charmed
+me. You must speak now with me in another tone. I come to hear your last
+reproaches and to answer them.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Reproaches? What reproaches should I have for you, Mellefont?
+None!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then you might have spared yourself the journey, I should
+think.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dearest, capricious heart. Why will you forcibly compel me to
+recall a trifle which I forgave you the same moment I heard of it? Does a
+passing infidelity which your gallantry, but not your heart, has caused, deserve
+these reproaches? Come, let us laugh at it!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are mistaken; my heart is more concerned in it, than it
+ever was in all our love affairs, upon which I cannot now look back but with
+disgust.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your heart, Mellefont, is a good little fool. It lets your
+imagination persuade it to whatever it will. Believe me, I know it better than
+you do yourself! Were it not the best, the most faithful of hearts, should I
+take such pains to keep it?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To keep it? You have never possessed it, I tell you.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And I tell you, that in reality I possess it still!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood! if I knew that you still possessed one single fibre
+of it, I would tear it out of my breast here before your eyes.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You would see that you were tearing mine out at the same time.
+And then, then these hearts would at last attain that union which they have
+sought so often upon our lips.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What a serpent! Flight will be the best thing here.--Just tell
+me briefly, Marwood, why you have followed me, and what you still desire of me!
+But tell it me without this smile, without this look, in which a whole' hell of
+seduction lurks and terrifies me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>insinuatingly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Just listen, my dear Mellefont! I see your position now. Your
+desires and your taste are at present your tyrants. Never mind, one must let
+them wear themselves out. It is folly to resist them. They are most safely
+lulled to sleep, and at last even conquered, by giving them free scope. They
+wear themselves away. Can you accuse me, my fickle friend, of ever having been
+jealous, when more powerful charms than mine estranged you from me for a time? I
+never grudged you the change, by which I always won more than I lost. You
+returned with new ardour, with new passion to my arms, in which with light
+bonds, and never with heavy fetters I encompassed you. Have I not often even
+been your confidante though you had nothing to confide but the favours which you
+stole from me, in order to lavish them on others. Why should you believe then,
+that I would now begin to display a capriciousness just when I am ceasing, or,
+perhaps have already ceased, to be justified in it. If your ardour for the
+pretty country girl has not yet cooled down, if you are still in the first fever
+of your love for her; if you cannot yet do without the enjoyment she gives you;
+who hinders you from devoting yourself to her, as long as you think good? But
+must you on that account make such rash projects, and purpose to fly from the
+country with her?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood! You speak in perfect keeping with your character, the
+wickedness of which I never understood so well as I do now, since, in the
+society of a virtuous woman, I have learned to distinguish love from
+licentiousness.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! Your new mistress is then a girl of fine moral
+sentiments, I suppose? You men surely cannot know yourselves what you want. At
+one time you are pleased with the most wanton talk and the most unchaste jests
+from us, at another time we charm you, when we talk nothing but virtue, and seem
+to have all the seven sages on our lips. But the worst is, that you get tired of
+one as much as the other. We may be foolish or reasonable, worldly or spiritual;
+our efforts to make you constant are lost either way. The turn will come to your
+beautiful saint soon enough. Shall I give you a little sketch? Just at present
+you are in the most passionate paroxysm over her. I allow this two or at the
+most three days more. To this will succeed a tolerably calm love; for this I
+allow a week. The next week you will only think occasionally of this love. In
+the third week, you will have to be reminded of it; and when you have got tired
+of being thus reminded, you will so quickly see yourself reduced to the most
+utter indifference, that I can hardly allow the fourth week for this final
+change. This would be about a month altogether. And this month, Mellefont, I
+will overlook with the greatest pleasure; but you will allow that I must not
+lose sight of you.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You try all the weapons in vain which you remember to have
+used successfully with me in bygone days. A virtuous resolution secures me
+against both your tenderness and your wit. However, I will not expose myself
+longer to either. I go, and have nothing more to tell you but that in a few days
+you shall know that I am bound in such a manner as will utterly destroy all your
+hope of my ever returning into your sinful slavery. You will have learned my
+justification sufficiently from the letter which I sent to you before my
+departure.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is well that you mention this letter. Tell me, who did you
+get to write it?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Did not I write it myself?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Impossible! The beginning of it, in which you reckoned up--I
+do not know what sums--which you say you have wasted with me, must have been
+written by an innkeeper, and the theological part at the end by a Quaker. I will
+now give you a serious reply to it. As to the principal point, you well know
+that all the presents which you have made are still in existence. I have never
+considered your cheques or your jewels as my property, and I have brought them
+all with me to return them into the hands which entrusted them to me.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Keep them all, Marwood!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will not keep any of them. What right have I to them without
+you yourself? Although you do not love me any more, you must at least do me
+justice and not take me for one of those venal females, to whom it is a matter
+of indifference by whose booty they enrich themselves. Come, Mellefont, you
+shall this moment be as rich again as you perhaps might still be if you had not
+known me; and perhaps, too, might <i>not</i> be.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What demon intent upon my destruction speaks through you now!
+Voluptuous Marwood does not think so nobly.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do you call that noble? I call it only just. No, Sir, no, I do
+not ask that you shall account the return of your gifts as anything remarkable.
+It costs me nothing, and I should even consider the slightest expression of
+thanks on your part as an insult, which could have no other meaning than this:
+&quot;Marwood, I thought you a base deceiver; I am thankful that you have not wished
+to be so towards me at least.&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Enough, Madam, enough! I fly, since my unlucky destiny
+threatens to involve me in a contest of generosity, in which I should be most
+unwilling to succumb.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Fly, then! But take everything with you that could remind me
+of you. Poor, despised, without honour, and without friends, I will then venture
+again to awaken your pity. I will show you in the unfortunate Marwood only a
+miserable woman, who has sacrificed to you her person, her honour, her virtue,
+and her conscience. I will remind you of the first day, when you saw and loved
+me; of the first, stammering, bashful confession of your love, which you made me
+at my feet; of the first assurance of my return of your love, which you forced
+from me; of the tender looks, of the passionate embraces, which followed, of the
+eloquent silence, when each with busy mind divined the other's most secret
+feelings, and read the most hidden thoughts of the soul in the languishing eye;
+of the trembling expectation of approaching gratification; of the intoxication
+of its joys; of the sweet relaxation after the fulness of enjoyment, in which
+the exhausted spirits regained strength for fresh delights. I shall remind you
+of all this, and then embrace your knees, and entreat without ceasing for the
+only gift, which you cannot deny me, and which I can accept without
+blushing--for death from your hand.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Cruel one! I would still give even my life for you. Ask it,
+ask it, only do not any longer claim my love. I must leave you, Marwood, or make
+myself an object of loathing to the whole world. I am culpable already in that I
+only stand here and listen to you. Farewell, farewell!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>holding him back</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You must leave me? And what, then, do you wish, shall become
+of me? As I am now, I am your creature; do, then, what becomes a creator; he may
+not withdraw his hand from the work until he wishes to destroy it utterly. Alas,
+Hannah, I see now, my entreaties alone are too feeble. Go, bring my intercessor,
+who will now, perhaps, return to me more than she ever received from me. (<i>Exit </i>
+<span class="sc">Hannah</span>).</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What intercessor, Marwood?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, an intercessor of whom you would only too willingly have
+deprived me. Nature will take a shorter road to your heart with her grievances.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You alarm me. Surely you have not----</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Arabella, Hannah, Mellefont, Marwood</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do I see? It is she! Marwood, how could you dare to----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Am I not her mother? Come, my Bella, see, here is your
+protector again, your friend, your .... Ah! his heart may tell him what more he
+can be to you than a protector and a friend.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>turning away his face</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">God, what shall I have to suffer here?</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>advancing timidly towards him</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Sir! Is it you? Are you our Mellefont? No, Madam, surely,
+surely it is not he! Would he not look at me, if it were? Would he not hold me
+in his arms? He used to do so. What an unhappy child I am! How have I grieved
+him, this dear, dear man, who let me call him my father?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are silent, Mellefont? You grudge the innocent child a
+single look?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah!</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why, he sighs, Madam! What is the matter with him? Cannot we
+help him? Cannot I? Nor you? Then let us sigh with him! Ah, now he looks at me!
+No, he looks away again! He looks up to Heaven! What does he want? What does he
+ask from Heaven? Would that Heaven would grant him everything, even if it
+refused me everything for it!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go, my child, go, fall at his feet! He wants to leave us, to
+leave us for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>falling on her knees before him</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here I am already. You will leave us? You will leave us for
+ever? Have not we already been without you for a little &quot;for ever.&quot; Shall we
+have to lose you again? You have said so often that you loved us. Does one leave
+the people whom one loves? I cannot love you then, I suppose, for I should wish
+never to leave you. Never, and I never will leave you either.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will help you in your entreaties, my child! And you must
+help me too! Now, Mellefont, you see me too at your feet....</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>stopping her, as she throws herself at his feet</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood, dangerous Marwood! And you, too, my dearest Bella (<i>raising
+her up</i>), you too are the enemy of your Mellefont?</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I your enemy?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What is your resolve?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What it ought not to be, Marwood; what it ought not to be.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>embracing him</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, I know that the honesty of your heart has always overcome
+the obstinacy of your desires.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not importune me any longer! I am already what you wish to
+make me; a perjurer, a seducer, a robber, a murderer!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You will be so in imagination for a few days, and after that
+you will see that I have prevented you from becoming so in reality. You will
+return with us, won't you?</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>insinuatingly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh yes, do!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Return with you! How can I?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing is easier, if you only wish it.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And my Sara----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And your Sara may look to herself.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! cruel Marwood, these words reveal the very bottom of your
+heart to me. And yet I, wretch, do not repent?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you had seen the bottom of my heart, you would have
+discovered that it has more true pity for your Sara than you yourself have. I
+say true pity; for your pity is egotistic and weak. You have carried this
+love-affair much too far. We might let it pass, that you as a man, who by long
+intercourse with our sex has become master in the art of seducing, used your
+superiority in dissimulation and experience against such a young maiden, and did
+not rest until you had gained your end. You can plead the impetuosity of your
+passion as your excuse. But, Mellefont, you cannot justify yourself for having
+robbed an old father of his only child, for having rendered to an honourable old
+man his few remaining steps to the grave harder and more bitter, for having
+broken the strongest ties of nature for the sake of your desires. Repair your
+error, then, as far as it is possible to repair it. Give the old man his support
+again, and send a credulous daughter back to her home, which you need not render
+desolate also, because you have dishonoured it.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This only was still wanting--that you should call in my
+conscience against me also. But even supposing what you say were just, must I
+not be brazenfaced if I should propose it myself to the unhappy girl?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, I will confess to you, that I have anticipated this
+difficulty, and considered how to spare you it. As soon as I learned your
+address, I informed her old father privately of it. He was beside himself with
+joy, and wanted to start directly. I wonder he has not yet arrived.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you say?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Just await his arrival quietly, and do not let the girl notice
+anything. I myself will not detain you any longer. Go to her again; she might
+grow suspicious. But I trust that I shall see you again to-day.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, Marwood! With what feelings did I come to you, and with
+what must I leave you! A kiss, my dear Bella.</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That was for you, now one for me! But come back again soon,
+do!</p>
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">(<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Mellefont</span>).</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marwood, Arabella, Hannah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>drawing a deep breath</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Victory, Hannah! but a hard victory! Give me a chair, I feel
+quite exhausted (<i>sitting down</i>). He surrendered only just in time, if he
+had hesitated another moment, I should have shown him quite a different Marwood.</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Madam, what a woman you are! I should like to Bee the man
+who could resist you.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He has resisted me already too long. And assuredly, assuredly,
+I will not forgive him that he almost let me go down on my knees to him.</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, no! You must forgive him everything. He is so good, so
+good----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be silent, little silly!</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not know on what side you did not attack him! But
+nothing, I think, touched him more, than the disinterestedness with which you
+offered to return all his presents to him.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I believe so too. Ha! ha! ha! (<i>contemptuously</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why do you laugh, Madam? You really risked a great deal, if
+you were not in earnest about it. Suppose he had taken you at your word?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, nonsense, one knows with whom one has to deal.</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I quite admit that! But you too, my pretty Bella, did your
+part excellently, excellently!</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How so? Could I do it, then, any other way? I had not seen him
+for such a long time. I hope you are not angry, Madam, that I love him so? I
+love you as much as him, just as much.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Very well, I will pardon you this time that you do not love me
+better than him.</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>sobbing</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This time?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why, you are crying actually? What is it about?</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, no! I am not crying. Do not get angry! I will love you
+both so much, so much, that it will be impossible to love either of you more.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Very well.</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am so unhappy.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Now be quiet----but what is that?</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Marwood, Arabella, Hannah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why do you come back again so soon, Mellefont? (<i>rising</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>passionately</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Because I needed but a few moments to recover my senses.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I was stunned, Marwood, but not moved! You have had all your
+trouble in vain. Another atmosphere than this infectious one of your room has
+given me back my courage and my strength, to withdraw my foot in time from this
+dangerous snare. Were the tricks of a Marwood not sufficiently familiar to me,
+unworthy wretch that I am?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>impatiently</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What language is that?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The language of truth and anger.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Gently, Mellefont! or I too shall speak in the same language.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I return only in order not to leave you one moment longer
+under a delusion with regard to me, which must make me despicable even in your
+eyes.</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>timidly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, Hannah!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Look at me as madly as you like. The more madly the better!
+Was it possible that I could hesitate only for one moment between a Marwood and
+a Sara, and that I had well nigh decided for the former?</p>
+
+<h3>ARABELLA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, Mellefont!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not tremble, Bella! For your sake too I came back. Give me
+your hand, and follow me without fear!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>stopping them</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whom shall she follow, traitor?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Her father!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go, pitiable wretch, and learn first to know her mother.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I know her. She is a disgrace to her sex.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Take her away, Hannah!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Remain here, Bella (<i>attempting to stop her</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No force, Mellefont, or----</p>
+
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">(<i>Exeunt</i> Hannah <i>and</i>
+Arabella).</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Marwood</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Now we are alone! Say now once more, whether you are
+determined to sacrifice me for a foolish girl?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>bitterly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sacrifice you? You recall to my mind that impure animals were
+also sacrificed to the ancient gods.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>mockingly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Express yourself without these learned allusions.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I tell you, then, that I am firmly resolved never to think of
+you again, but with the most fearful of curses. Who are you? And who is Sara?
+You are a voluptuous, egoistic, shameful strumpet, who certainly can scarcely
+remember any longer that she ever was innocent. I have nothing to reproach
+myself with but that I have enjoyed with you that which otherwise you would
+perhaps have let the whole world enjoy. You have sought me, not I you, and if I
+now know who Marwood is, I have paid for this knowledge dearly enough. It has
+cost me my fortune, my honour, my happiness----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And I would that it might also cost you your eternal
+happiness. Monster! Is the devil worse than you, when he lures feeble mortals
+into crimes and himself accuses them afterwards for these crimes which are his
+own work! What is my innocence to you? What does it matter to you when and how I
+lost it. If I could not sacrifice my virtue, I have at least staked my good name
+for you. The former is no more valuable than the latter. What do I say? More
+valuable? Without it the former is a silly fancy, which brings one neither
+happiness nor guilt. The good name alone gives it some value, and can exist
+quite well without it. What did it matter what I was before I knew you, you
+wretch! It is enough that in the eyes of the world I was a woman without
+reproach. Through you only it has learned that I am not so; solely through my
+readiness to accept your heart, as I then thought, without your hand.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This very readiness condemns you, vile woman!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But do you remember to what base tricks you owed it? Was I not
+persuaded by you, that you could not be publicly united to me without forfeiting
+an inheritance which you wished to share with me only? Is it time now to
+renounce it? And to renounce it, not for me but for another!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is a real delight to me to be able to tell you that this
+difficulty will soon be removed. Content yourself therefore with having deprived
+me of my father's inheritance, and let me enjoy a far smaller one with a more
+worthy wife.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! Now I see what it is that makes you so perverse. Well, I
+will lose no more words. Be it so! Be assured I shall do everything to forget
+you. And the first thing that I will do to this end, shall be this. You will
+understand me! Tremble for your Bella! Her life shall not carry the memory of my
+despised love down to posterity; my cruelty shall do it. Behold in me a new
+Medea!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>frightened</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood!----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Or, if you know a more cruel mother still, behold her cruelty
+doubled in me! Poison and dagger shall avenge me. But no, poison and dagger are
+tools too merciful for me! They would kill your child and mine too soon. I will
+not see it dead. I will see it dying! I will see each feature of the face which
+she has from you disfigured, distorted, and obliterated by slow torture. With
+eager hand will I part limb from limb, vein from vein, nerve from nerve, and
+will not cease to cut and burn the very smallest of them, even when there is
+nothing remaining but a senseless carcass! I--I shall at least feel in it--how
+sweet is revenge!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are raving, Marwood----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You remind me that my ravings are not directed against the
+right person. The father must go first! He must already be in yonder world,
+when, through a thousand woes the spirit of his daughter follows him (<i>she
+advances towards him with a dagger which she draws from her bosom</i>). So die,
+traitor!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>seizing her arm, and snatching the dagger from her</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Insane woman! What hinders me now from turning the steel
+against you? But live, and your punishment shall be left for a hand void of
+honour.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>wringing her hands</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Heaven, what have I done? Mellefont----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your grief shall not deceive me. I know well why you are
+sorry--not that you wished to stab me, but that you failed to do so.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Give me back the erring steel! Give it me back, and you shall
+see for whom it was sharpened! For this breast alone, which for long has been
+too narrow for a heart which will rather renounce life than your love.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hannah!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What are you doing, Mellefont?</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Hannah</span> (<i>in terror</i>), <span class="sc">
+Marwood, Mellefont</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Did you hear, Hannah, how madly your mistress was behaving?
+Remember that I shall hold you responsible for Arabella!</p>
+
+<h3>HANNAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Madam, how agitated you are!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will place the innocent child in safety immediately. Justice
+will doubtless be able to bind the murderous hands of her cruel mother (<i>going</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whither, Mellefont? Is it astonishing that the violence of my
+grief deprived me of my reason? Who forces me to such unnatural excess? Is it
+not you yourself? Where can Bella be safer than with me? My lips may rave, but
+my heart still remains the heart of a mother. Oh, Mellefont, forget my madness,
+and to excuse it think only of its cause.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There is only one thing which can induce me to forget it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And that is?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That you return immediately to London! I will send Arabella
+there under another escort. You must by no means have anything further to do
+with her.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Very well! I submit to everything; but grant me one single
+request more. Let me see your Sara once.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And what for?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To read in her eyes my future fate. I will judge for myself
+whether she is worthy of such a breach of faith as you commit against me; and
+whether I may cherish the hope of receiving again, some day at any rate, a
+portion of your love.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Vain hope!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who is so cruel as to grudge even hope to the unhappy? I will
+not show myself to her as Marwood, but as a relation of yours. Announce me to
+her as such; you shall be present when I call upon her, and I promise you, by
+all that is sacred, to say nothing that is in any way displeasing to her. Do not
+refuse my request, for otherwise I might perhaps do all that is in my power to
+show myself to her in my true character.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood! This request----(<i>after a moment's reflection</i>)
+might be granted.--But will you then be sure to quit this spot?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Certainly; yes I promise you. Even more, I will spare you the
+visit from her father, if that is still possible.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There is no need of that! I hope that he will include me too
+in the pardon which he grants to his daughter. But if he will not pardon her, I
+too shall know how to deal with him. I will go and announce you to my Sara. Only
+keep your promise, Marwood. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas, Hannah, that our powers are not as great as our courage.
+Come, help me to dress. I do not despair of my scheme. If I could only make sure
+of him first. Come!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT III.</h2>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I. <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>A room in the first inn</i></span>.)</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sir William Sampson, Waitwell</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There, Waitwell, take this letter to her! It is the letter of
+an affectionate father, who complains of nothing but her absence. Tell her that
+I have sent you on before with it, and that I only await her answer, to come
+myself and fold her again in my arms.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I think you do well to prepare them for your arrival in this
+way.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I make sure of her intentions by this means, and give her the
+opportunity of freeing herself from any shame or sorrow which repentance might
+cause her, before she speaks verbally with me. In a letter it will cost her less
+embarrassment, and me, perhaps, fewer tears.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But may I ask, Sir, what you have resolved upon with regard to
+Mellefont?</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Waitwell, if I could separate him from my daughter's
+lover, I should make some very harsh resolve. But as this cannot be, you see, he
+is saved from my anger. I myself am most to blame in this misfortune. But for me
+Sara would never have made the acquaintance of this dangerous man. I admitted
+him freely into my house on account of an obligation under which I believed
+myself to be to him. It was natural that the attention which in gratitude I paid
+him, should win for him the esteem of my daughter. And it was just as natural,
+that a man of his disposition should suffer himself to be tempted by this esteem
+to something more. He had been clever enough to transform it into love before I
+noticed anything at all, and before I had time to inquire into his former life.
+The evil was done, and I should have done well, if I had forgiven them
+everything immediately. I wished to be inexorable towards him, and did not
+consider that I could not be so towards him alone. If I had spared my severity,
+which came too late, I would at least have prevented their flight. But here I am
+now, Waitwell! I must fetch them back myself and consider myself happy if only I
+can make a son of a seducer. For who knows whether he will give up his Marwoods
+and his other creatures for the sake of a girl who has left nothing for his
+desires to wish for and who understands so little the bewitching arts of a
+coquette?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, Sir, it cannot be possible, that a man could be so
+wicked----</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This doubt, good Waitwell, does honour to your virtue. But
+why, at the same time, is it true that the limits of human wickedness extend
+much further still? Go now, and do as I told you! Notice every look as she reads
+my letter. In this short deviation from virtue she cannot yet have learned the
+art of dissimulation, to the masks of which only deep-rooted vice can have
+recourse. You will read her whole soul in her face. Do not let a look escape you
+which might perhaps indicate indifference to me--disregard of her father. For if
+you should unhappily discover this, and if she loves me no more, I hope that I
+shall be able to conquer myself and abandon her to her fate. I hope so,
+Waitwell. Alas! would that there were no heart here, to contradict this hope. (<i>Exeunt
+on different sides</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Miss Sara, Mellefont</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">(<span class="sc">Sara's </span><i>room</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have done wrong, dearest Sara, to leave you in uneasiness
+about the letter which came just now.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh dear, no, Mellefont! I have not been in the least uneasy
+about it. Could you not love me even though you still had secrets from me?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You think, then, that it was a secret?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But not one which concerns me. And that must suffice for me.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are only too good. Let me nevertheless reveal my secret to
+you. The letter contained a few lines from a relative of mine, who has heard of
+my being here. She passes through here on her way to London, and would like to
+see me. She has begged at the same time to be allowed the honour of paying you a
+visit.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It will always be a pleasure to me to make the acquaintance of
+the respected members of your family. But consider for yourself, whether I can
+yet appear before one of them without blushing.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Without blushing? And for what? For your love to me? It is
+true, Sara, you could have given your love to a nobler or a richer man. You must
+be ashamed that you were content to give your heart for another heart only, and
+that in this exchange you lost sight of your happiness.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You must know yourself how wrongly you interpret my words.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon me, Sara; if my interpretation is wrong, they can have
+no meaning at all.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What is the name of your relation?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She is--Lady Solmes. You will have heard me mention the name
+before.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I don't remember.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">May I beg you to see her?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Beg me? You can command me to do so.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What a word! No, Sara, she shall not have the happiness of
+seeing you. She will regret it, but she must submit to it. Sara has her reasons,
+which I respect without knowing them.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How hasty you are, Mellefont! I shall expect Lady Solmes, and
+do my best to show myself worthy of the honour of her visit. Are you content?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Sara! let me confess my ambition. I should like to show
+you to the whole world! And were I not proud of the possession of such a being,
+I should reproach myself with not being able to appreciate her value. I will go
+and bring her to you at once. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>alone</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I hope she will not be one of those proud women, who are so
+full of their own virtue that they believe themselves above all failings. With
+one single look of contempt they condemn us, and an equivocal shrug of the
+shoulders is all the pity we seem to deserve in their eyes.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Waitwell, Sara</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>behind the scenes</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Just come in here, if you must speak to her yourself!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>looking round</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who must speak to me? Whom do I see? Is it possible? You,
+Waitwell?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How happy I am to see our young lady again!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Good God, what do you bring me? I hear already, I hear
+already; you bring me the news of my father's death! He is gone, the excellent
+man, the best of fathers! He is gone, and I--I am the miserable creature who has
+hastened his death.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Miss----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Tell me, quick! tell me, that his last moments were not
+embittered by the thought of me; that he had forgotten me; that he died as
+peacefully as he used to hope to die in my arms; that he did not remember me
+even in his last prayer----</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pray do not torment yourself with such false notions! Your
+father is still alive! He is still alive, honest Sir William!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is he still alive? Is it true? Is he still alive? May he live
+a long while yet, and live happily! Oh, would that God would add the half of my
+years to his life! Half! How ungrateful should I be, if I were not willing to
+buy even a few moments for him with all the years, that may yet be mine! But
+tell me at least, Waitwell, that it is not hard for him to live without me; that
+it was easy to him to renounce a daughter who could so easily renounce her
+virtue, that he is angry with me for my flight, but not grieved; that he curses
+me, but does not mourn for me.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah! Sir William is still the same fond father, as his Sara is
+still the same fond daughter that she was.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you say? You are a messenger of evil, of the most
+dreadful of all the evils which my imagination has ever pictured to me! He is
+still the same fond father? Then he loves me still? And he must mourn for me,
+then! No no, he does not do so; he cannot do so? Do you not see how infinitely
+each sigh which he wasted on me would magnify my crime? Would not the justice of
+heaven have to charge me with every tear which I forced from him, as if with
+each one I repeated my vice and my ingratitude? I grow chill at the thought. I
+cause him tears? Tears? And they are other tears than tears of joy? Contradict
+me, Waitwell! At most he has felt some slight stirring of the blood on my
+account; some transitory emotion, calmed by a slight effort of reason. He did
+not go so far as to shed tears, surely not to shed tears, Waitwell?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>wiping his eyes</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, Miss, he did not go so far as that.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas! your lips say no, and your eyes say yes.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Take this letter Miss, it is from him himself----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">From whom? From my father? To me?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, take it! You can learn more from it, than I am able to
+say. He ought to have given this to another to do, not to me. I promised myself
+pleasure from it; but you turn my joy into sadness.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Give it me, honest Waitwell! But no! I will not take it before
+you tell me what it contains.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What can it contain? Love and forgiveness.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Love? Forgiveness?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And perhaps a real regret, that he used the rights of a
+father's power against a child, who should only have the privileges of a
+father's kindness.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then keep your cruel letter.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Cruel? Have no fear. Full liberty is granted you over your
+heart and hand.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And it is just this which I fear. To grieve a father such as
+he, this I have had the courage to do. But to see him forced by this very
+grief-by his love which I have forfeited, to look with leniency on all the wrong
+into which an unfortunate passion has led me; this, Waitwell, I could not bear.
+If his letter contained all the hard and angry words which an exasperated father
+can utter in such a case, I should read it--with a shudder it is true--but still
+I should be able to read it. I should be able to produce a shadow of defence
+against his wrath, to make him by this defence if possible more angry still. My
+consolation then would be this-that melancholy grief could have no place with
+violent wrath and that the latter would transform itself finally into bitter
+contempt. And we grieve no more for one whom we despise. My father would have
+grown calm again, and I would not have to reproach myself with having made him
+unhappy for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas, Miss! You will have to reproach yourself still less for
+this if you now accept his love again, which wishes only to forget everything.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are mistaken, Waitwell! His yearning for me misleads him,
+perhaps, to give his consent to everything. But no sooner would this desire be
+appeased a little, than he would feel ashamed before himself of his weakness.
+Sullen anger would take possession of him, and he would never be able to look at
+me without silently accusing me of all that I had dared to exact from him. Yes,
+if it were in my power to spare him his bitterest grief, when on my account he
+is laying the greatest restraint upon himself; if at a moment when he would
+grant me everything I could sacrifice all to him; then it would be quite a
+different matter. I would take the letter from your hands with pleasure, would
+admire in it the strength of the fatherly love, and, not to abuse this love, I
+would throw myself at his feet a repentant and obedient daughter. But can I do
+that? I shall be obliged to make use of his permission, regardless of the price
+this permission has cost him. And then, when I feel most happy, it will suddenly
+occur to me that he only outwardly appears to share my happiness and that
+inwardly he is sighing--in short, that he has made me happy by the renunciation
+of his own happiness. And to wish to be happy in this way,--do you expect that
+of me, Waitwell?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I truly do not know what answer to give to that.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There is no answer to it. So take your letter back! If my
+father must be unhappy through me, I will myself remain unhappy also. To be
+quite alone in unhappiness is that for which I now pray Heaven every hour, but
+to be quite alone in my happiness--of that I will not hear.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I really think I shall have to employ deception with this good
+child to get her to read the letter.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What are you saying to yourself?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I was saying to myself that the idea I had hit on to get you
+to read this letter all the quicker was a very clumsy one.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How so?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I could not look far enough. Of course you see more deeply
+into things than such as I. I did not wish to frighten you; the letter is
+perhaps only too hard; and when I said that it contained nothing but love and
+forgiveness, I ought to have said that I wished it might not contain anything
+else.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is that true? Give it me then! I will read it. If one has been
+unfortunate enough to deserve the anger of one's father, one should at least
+have enough respect for it to submit to the expression of it on his part. To try
+to frustrate it means to heap contempt on insult. I shall feel his anger in all
+its strength. You see I tremble already. But I must tremble; and I will rather
+tremble than weep (<i>opens the letter</i>). Now it is opened! I sink! But what
+do I see? (<i>she reads</i>) &quot;My only, dearest daughter&quot;--ah, you old deceiver,
+is that the language of an angry father? Go, I shall read no more----</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Miss! You will pardon an old servant! Yes, truly, I
+believe it is the first time in my life that I have intentionally deceived any
+one. He who deceives once, Miss, and deceives for so good a purpose, is surely
+no old deceiver on that account. That touches me deeply, Miss! I know well that
+the good intention does not always excuse one; but what else could I do? To
+return his letter unread to such a good father? That certainly I cannot do!
+Sooner will I walk as far as my old legs will carry me, and never again come
+into his presence.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What? You too will leave him?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Shall I not be obliged to do so if you do not read the letter?
+Read it, pray! Do not grudge a good result to the first deceit with which I have
+to reproach myself. You will forget it the sooner, and I shall the sooner be
+able to forgive myself. I am a common, simple man, who must not question the
+reasons why you cannot and will not read the letter. Whether they are true, I
+know not, but at any rate they do not appear to me to be natural. I should think
+thus, Miss: a father, I should think, is after all a father; and a child may err
+for once, and remain a good child in spite of it. If the father pardons the
+error, the child may behave again in such a manner that the father may not even
+think of it any more. For who likes to remember what he would rather had never
+happened? It seems, Miss, as if you thought only of your error, and believed you
+atoned sufficiently in exaggerating it in your imagination and tormenting
+yourself with these exaggerated ideas. But, I should think, you ought also to
+consider how you could make up for what has happened. And how will you make up
+for it, if you deprive yourself of every opportunity of doing so. Can it be hard
+for you to take the second step, when such a good father has already taken the
+first?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What daggers pierce my heart in your simple words! That he has
+to take the first step is just what I cannot bear. And, besides, is it only the
+first step which he takes? He must do all! I cannot take a single one to meet
+him. As far as I have gone from him, so far must he descend to me. If he pardons
+me, he must pardon the whole crime, and in addition must bear the consequences
+of it continually before his eyes. Can one demand that from a father?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not know, Miss, whether I understand this quite right.
+But it seems to me, you mean to say that he would have to forgive you too much,
+and as this could not but be very difficult to him, you make a scruple of
+accepting his forgiveness. If you mean that, tell me, pray, is not forgiving a
+great happiness to a kind heart? I have not been so fortunate in my life as to
+have felt this happiness often. But I still remember with pleasure the few
+instances when I have felt it. I felt something so sweet, something so
+tranquillising, something so divine, that I could not help thinking of the great
+insurpassable blessedness of God, whose preservation of miserable mankind is a
+perpetual forgiveness. I wished that I could be forgiving continually, and was
+ashamed that I had only such trifles to pardon. To forgive real painful insults,
+deadly offences, I said to myself, must be a bliss in which the whole soul
+melts. And now, Miss, will you grudge your father such bliss?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah! Go on, Waitwell, go on!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I know well there are people who accept nothing less willingly
+than forgiveness, and that because they have never learned to grant it. They are
+proud, unbending people, who will on no account confess that they have done
+wrong. But you do not belong to this kind, Miss! You have the most loving and
+tender of hearts that the best of your sex can have. You confess your fault too.
+Where then is the difficulty? But pardon me, Miss! I am an old chatterer, and
+ought to have seen at once that your refusal is only a praiseworthy solicitude,
+only a virtuous timidity. People who can accept a great benefit immediately
+without any hesitation are seldom worthy of it. Those who deserve it most have
+always the greatest mistrust of themselves. Yet mistrust must not be pushed
+beyond limits!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dear old father! I believe you have persuaded me.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If I have been so fortunate as that it must have been a good
+spirit that has helped me to plead. But no, Miss, my words have done no more
+than given you time to reflect and to recover from the bewilderment of joy. You
+will read the letter now, will you not? Oh, read it at once!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will do so, Waitwell! What regrets, what pain shall I feel!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pain, Miss! but pleasant pain.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be silent! (<i>begins reading to herself</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh! If he could see her himself!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after reading a few moments</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Waitwell, what a father! He calls my flight &quot;an absence.&quot;
+How much more culpable it becomes through this gentle word! (<i>continues
+reading and interrupts herself again</i>). Listen! he flatters himself I shall
+love him still. He flatters himself! He begs me--he begs me? A father begs his
+daughter? his culpable daughter? And what does he beg then? He begs me to forget
+his over-hasty severity, and not to punish him any longer with my absence.
+Over-hasty severity! To punish! More still! Now he thanks me even, and thanks me
+that I have given him an opportunity of learning the whole extent of paternal
+love. Unhappy opportunity! Would that he also said it had shown him at the same
+time the extent of filial disobedience. No, he does not say it! He does not
+mention my crime with one single word. (<i>Continues reading</i>.) He will come
+himself and fetch his children. His children, Waitwell! that surpasses
+everything! Have I read it rightly? (<i>reads again to herself</i>) I am
+overcome! He says, that he without whom he could not possess a daughter deserves
+but too well to be his son. Oh that he had never had this unfortunate daughter!
+Go, Waitwell, leave me alone! He wants an answer, and I will write it at once.
+Come again in an hour! I thank you meanwhile for your trouble. You are an honest
+man. Few servants are the friends of their masters!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not make me blush, Miss! If all masters were like Sir
+William, servants would be monsters, if they would not give their lives for
+them. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal"><h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>sits down to write</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If they had told me a year ago that I should have to answer
+such a letter! And under such circumstances! Yes, I have the pen in my hand. But
+do I know yet what I shall write? What I think; what I feel. And what then does
+one think when a thousand thoughts cross each other in one moment? And what does
+one feel, when the heart is in a stupor from a thousand feelings. But I must
+write! I do not guide the pen for the first time. After assisting me in so many
+a little act of politeness and friendship, should its help fail me at the most
+important office? (<i>She pauses, and then writes a few lines</i>.) It shall
+commence so? A very cold beginning! And shall I then begin with his love? I must
+begin with my crime. (<i>She scratches it out and writes again</i>.) I must be
+on my guard not to express myself too leniently. Shame may be in its place
+anywhere else, but not in the confession of our faults. I need not fear falling
+into exaggeration, even though I employ the most dreadful terms. Ah, am I to be
+interrupted now?</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marwood, Mellefont, Sara</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dearest Sara, I have the honour of introducing Lady Solmes to
+you; she is one of the members of my family to whom I feel myself most indebted.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I must beg your pardon, Madam, for taking the liberty of
+convincing myself with my own eyes of the happiness of a cousin, for whom I
+should wish the most perfect of women if the first moment had not at once
+convinced me, that he has found her already in you.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your ladyship does me too much honour! Such a compliment would
+have made me blush at any time, but now I would almost take it as concealed
+reproach, if I did not think that Lady Solmes is much too generous to let her
+superiority in virtue and wisdom be felt by an unhappy girl.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>coldly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I should be inconsolable if you attributed to me any but the
+most friendly feelings towards you. (<i>Aside</i>.) She is good-looking.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Would it be possible Madam, to remain indifferent to such
+beauty, such modesty? People say, it is true, that one charming woman rarely
+does another one justice, but this is to be taken only of those who are
+over-vain of their superiority, and on the other hand of those who are not
+conscious of possessing any superiority. How far are you both removed from this.
+(<i>To </i><span class="sc">Marwood</span>, <i>who stands in deep thought</i>.) Is it not true, Madam,
+that my love has been anything but partial? Is it not true, that though I have
+said much to you in praise of my Sara, I have not said nearly so much as you
+yourself see? But why so thoughtful. (<i>Aside to her</i>.) You forget whom you
+represent.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">May I say it? The admiration of your dear young lady led me to
+the contemplation of her fate. It touched me, that she should not enjoy the
+fruits of her love in her native land. I recollected that she had to leave a
+father, and a very affectionate father as I have been told, in order to become
+yours; and I could not but wish for her reconciliation with him.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Madam! how much am I indebted to you for this wish. It
+encourages me to tell you the whole of my happiness. You cannot yet know,
+Mellefont, that this wish was granted before Lady Solmes had the kindness to
+wish it.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How do you mean, Sara?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How am I to interpret that?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have just received a letter from my father. Waitwell brought
+it to me. Ah, Mellefont, such a letter!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Quick, relieve me from my uncertainty. What have I to fear?
+What have I to hope? Is he still the father from whom we fled? And if he is,
+will Sara be the daughter who loves me so tenderly as to fly again? Alas, had I
+but done as you wished, dearest Sara, we should now be united by a bond which no
+caprice could dissolve. I feel now all the misfortune which the discovery of our
+abode may bring upon me.--He will come and tear you out of my arms. How I hate
+the contemptible being who has betrayed us to him (<i>with an angry glance at</i>
+<span class="sc">Marwood</span>).</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dearest Mellefont, how flattering to me is this uneasiness I
+And how happy are we both in that it is unnecessary. Read his letter! (<i>To </i>
+<span class="sc">Marwood</span>, <i>whilst </i><span class="sc">Mellefont </span><i>reads the letter</i>.) He will be astonished
+at the love of my father. Of my father? Ah, he is <i>his</i> now too.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>perplexed</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is it possible?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, Madam, you have good cause to be surprised at this
+change. He forgives us everything; we shall now love each other before his eyes;
+he allows it, he commands it. How has this kindness gone to my very soul! Well,
+Mellefont? (<i>who returns the letter to her</i>). You are silent? Oh no, this
+tear which steals from your eye says far more than your lips could say.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How I have injured my own cause. Imprudent woman that I was!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, let me kiss this tear from your cheek.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Sara, why was it our fate to grieve such a godlike man?
+Yes, a godlike man, for what is more godlike than to forgive? Could we only have
+imagined such a happy issue possible, we should not now owe it to such violent
+means, we should owe it to our entreaties alone. What happiness is in store for
+me! But how painful also will be the conviction, that I am so unworthy of this
+happiness!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And I must be present to hear this.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How perfectly you justify my love by such thoughts.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>.)</span></h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What restraint must I put on myself!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You too, Madam, must read my father's letter. You seem to take
+too great an interest in our fate to be indifferent to its contents.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indifferent? (<i>takes the letter</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, Madam, you still seem very thoughtful, very sad----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Thoughtful, but not sad!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Heavens! If she should betray herself!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And why then thoughtful?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I tremble for you both. Could not this unforeseen kindness of
+your father be a dissimulation? An artifice?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Assuredly not, Madam, assuredly not. Only read and you will
+admit it yourself. Dissimulation is always cold, it is not capable of such
+tender words. (<span class="sc">Marwood </span><i>reads</i>.) Do not grow suspicious, Mellefont, I beg.
+I pledge myself that my father cannot condescend to an artifice. He says nothing
+which he does not think, falseness is a vice unknown to him.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, of that I am thoroughly convinced, dearest Sara! You must
+pardon Lady Solmes for this suspicion, since she does not know the man whom it
+concerns.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>whilst </i><span class="sc">Marwood </span><i>returns the letter to her</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do I see, my lady? You are pale! You tremble! What is the
+matter with you?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What anxiety I suffer? Why did I bring her here?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is nothing but a slight dizziness, which will pass over.
+The night air on my journey must have disagreed with me.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You frighten me! Would you not like to go into the air? You
+will recover sooner than in a close room.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you think so, give me your arm!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will accompany your ladyship!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I beg you will not trouble to do so! My faintness will pass
+over immediately.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I hope then, to see you again soon.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you permit me (<span class="sc">Mellefont </span><i>conducts her out</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>alone</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Poor thing! She does not seem exactly the most friendly of
+people; but yet she does not appear to be either proud or ill-tempered. I am
+alone again. Can I employ the few moments, while I remain so, better than by
+finishing my answer? (<i>Is about to sit down to write</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Betty, Sara</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That was indeed a very short visit.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, Betty! It was Lady Solmes, a relation of my Mellefont.
+She was suddenly taken faint. Where is she now?</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mellefont has accompanied her to the door.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She is gone again, then?</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I suppose so. But the more I look at you--you must forgive my
+freedom, Miss--the more you seem to me to be altered. There is something calm,
+something contented in your looks. Either Lady Solmes must have been a very
+pleasant visitor, or the old man a very pleasant messenger.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The latter, Betty, the latter! He came from my father. What a
+tender letter I have for you to read! Your kind heart has often wept with me,
+now it shall rejoice with me, too. I shall be happy again, and be able to reward
+you for your good services.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What services could I render you in nine short weeks?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You could not have done more for me in all the rest of my
+life, than in these nine weeks. They are over! But come now with me, Betty. As
+Mellefont is probably alone again, I must speak to him. It just occurs to me
+that it would be well if he wrote at the same time to my father, to whom an
+expression of gratitude from him could hardly come unexpectedly. Come! (<i>Exeunt</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sir William Sampson, Waitwell</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>The drawing-room</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What balm you have poured on my wounded heart with your words,
+Waitwell! I live again, and the prospect of her return seems to carry me as far
+back to my youth as her flight had brought me nearer to my grave. She loves me
+still? What more do I wish! Go back to her soon, Waitwell? I am impatient for
+the moment when I shall fold her again in these arms, which I had stretched out
+so longingly to death! How welcome would it have been to me in the moments of my
+grief! And how terrible will it be to me in my new happiness! An old man, no
+doubt, is to be blamed for drawing the bonds so tight again which still unite
+him to the world. The final separation becomes the more painful. But God who
+shows Himself so merciful to me now, will also help me to go through this. Would
+He, I ask, grant me a mercy in order to let it become ray ruin in the end? Would
+He give me back a daughter, that I should have to murmur when He calls me from
+life? No, no! He gives her back to me that in my last hour I may be anxious
+about myself alone. Thanks to Thee, Eternal Father! How feeble is the gratitude
+of mortal lips? But soon, soon I shall be able to thank Him more worthily in an
+eternity devoted to Him alone!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How it delights me, Sir, to know you happy again before my
+death! Believe me, I have suffered almost as much in your grief as you yourself.
+Almost as much, for the grief of a father in such a case must be inexpressible.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not regard yourself as my servant any longer, my good
+Waitwell. You have long deserved to enjoy a more seemly old age. I will give it
+you, and you shall not be worse off than I am while I am still in this world. I
+will abolish all difference between us; in yonder world, you well know, it will
+be done. For this once be the old servant still, on whom I never relied in vain.
+Go, and be sure to bring me her answer, as soon as it is ready.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I go, Sir! But such an errand is not a service. It is a reward
+which you grant me for my services. Yes, truly it is so! (<i>Exeunt on different
+sides of the stage</i>.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT IV.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><span class="sc">Mellefont's </span><i>room</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Sara</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, dearest Sara, yes! That I will do! That I must do.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How happy you make me!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is I who must take the whole crime upon myself. I alone am
+guilty; I alone must ask for forgiveness.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, Mellefont, do not take from me the greater share which I
+have in our error! It is dear to me, however wrong it is, for it must have
+convinced you that I love my Mellefont above everything in this world. But is
+it, then, really true, that I may henceforth combine this love with the love of
+my father? Or am I in a pleasant dream? How I fear it will pass and I shall
+awaken in my old misery! But no! I am not merely dreaming, I am really happier
+than I ever dared hope to become; happier than this short life may perhaps
+allow. But perhaps this beam of happiness appears in the distance, and
+delusively seems to approach only in order to melt away again into thick
+darkness, and to leave me suddenly in a night whose whole terror has only become
+perceptible to me through this short illumination. What forebodings torment me!
+Are they really forebodings, Mellefont, or are they common feelings, which are
+inseparable from the expectation of an undeserved happiness, and the fear of
+losing it? How fast my heart beats, and how wildly it beats. How loud now, how
+quick! And now how weak, how anxious, how quivering! Now it hurries again, as if
+these were its last throbbings, which it would fain beat out rapidly. Poor
+heart!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The tumult of your blood, which a sudden surprise cannot fail
+to cause, will abate, Sara, and your heart will continue its work more calmly.
+None of its throbs point to aught that is in the future, and we are to
+blame--forgive me, dearest Sara!--if we make the mechanic pressure of our blood
+into a prophet of evil. But I will not leave anything undone which you yourself
+think good to appease this little storm within your breast. I will write at
+once, and I hope that Sir William will be satisfied with the assurances of my
+repentance, with the expressions of my stricken heart, and my vows of
+affectionate obedience.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sir William? Ah, Mellefont, you must begin now to accustom
+yourself to a far more tender name. My father, your father, Mellefont----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Very well, Sara, our kind, our dear father! I was very young
+when I last used this sweet name; very young, when I had to unlearn the equally
+sweet name of mother.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You had to unlearn it, and I--I was never so happy, as to be
+able to pronounce it at all. My life was her death! O God, I was a guiltless
+matricide! And how much was wanting--how little, how almost nothing was wanting
+to my becoming a parricide too! Not a guiltless, but a voluntary parricide. And
+who knows, whether I am not so already? The years, the days, the moments by
+which he is nearer to his end than he would have been without the grief I have
+caused him--of those I have robbed him. However old and weary he may be when
+Fate shall permit him to depart, my conscience will yet be unable to escape the
+reproach that but for me he might have lived yet longer. A sad reproach with
+which I doubtless should not need to charge myself, if a loving mother had
+guided me in my youth. Through her teaching and her example my heart would--you
+look tenderly on me, Mellefont? You are right; a mother would perhaps have been
+a tyrant for very love, and I should not now belong to Mellefont. Why do I wish
+then for that, which a wiser Fate denied me out of kindness? Its dispensations
+are always best. Let us only make proper use of that which it gives us; a father
+who never yet let me sigh for a mother; a father who will also teach you to
+forget the parents you lost so soon. What a flattering thought. I fall in love
+with it, and forget almost, that in my innermost heart there is still something
+which refuses to put faith in it. What is this rebellious something?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This something, dearest Sara, as you have already said
+yourself, is the natural, timid incapability to realize a great happiness. Ah,
+your heart hesitated less to believe itself unhappy than now, to its own
+torment, it hesitates to believe in its own happiness! But as to one who has
+become dizzy with quick movement, the external objects still appear to move
+round when again he is sitting still, so the heart which has been violently
+agitated cannot suddenly become calm again; there remains often for a long time,
+a quivering palpitation which we must suffer to exhaust itself.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I believe it, Mellefont, I believe it, because you say it,
+because I wish it. But do not let us detain each other any longer! I will go and
+finish my letter. And you will let me read yours, will you not, after I have
+shown you mine?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Each word shall be submitted to your judgment; except what I
+must say in your defence, for I know you do not think yourself so innocent as
+you are. (<i>Accompanies Sara to the back of the stage</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after walking up and down several times in thought</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What a riddle I am to myself! What shall I think myself? A
+fool? Or a knave? Heart, what a villain thou art! I love the angel, however much
+of a devil I may be. I love her! Yes, certainly! certainly I love her. I feel I
+would sacrifice a thousand lives for her, for her who sacrificed her virtue for
+me; I would do so,--this very moment without hesitation would I do so. And yet,
+yet--I am afraid to say it to myself--and yet--how shall I explain it? And yet I
+fear the moment which will make her mine for ever before the world. It cannot be
+avoided now, for her father is reconciled. Nor shall I be able to put it off for
+long. The delay has already drawn down painful reproaches enough upon me. But
+painful as they were, they were still more supportable to me than the melancholy
+thought of being fettered for life. But am I not so already? Certainly,--and
+with pleasure! Certainly I am already her prisoner. What is it I want, then? At
+present I am a prisoner, who is allowed to go about on parole; that is
+flattering! Why cannot the matter rest there? Why must I be put in chains and
+thus lack even the pitiable shadow of freedom? In chains? Quite so! Sara
+Sampson, my beloved! What bliss lies in these words! Sara Sampson, my wife! The
+half of the bliss is gone! and the other half--will go! Monster that I am! And
+with such thoughts shall I write to her father? Yet these are not my real
+thoughts, they are fancies! Cursed fancies, which have become natural to me
+through my dissolute life! I will free myself from them, or live no more.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Norton, Mellefont</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You disturb me, Norton!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I beg your pardon, Sir (<i>withdrawing again</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, no! Stay! It is just as well that you should disturb me.
+What do you want?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have heard some very good news from Betty, and have come to
+wish you happiness.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">On the reconciliation with her father, I suppose you mean? I
+thank you.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So Heaven still means to make you happy.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If it means to do so,--you see, Norton, I am just towards
+myself--it certainly does not mean it for my sake.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, no; if you feel that, then it will be for your sake also.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For my Sara's sake alone. If its vengeance, already armed,
+could spare the whole of a sinful city for the sake of a few just men, surely it
+can also bear with a sinner, when a soul in which it finds delight, is the
+sharer of his fate.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You speak with earnestness and feeling. But does not joy
+express itself differently from this?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Joy, Norton? (<i>Looking sharply at him</i>.) For me it is
+gone now for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">May I speak candidly?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You may.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The reproach which I had to hear this morning of having made
+myself a participator in your crimes, because I had been silent about them, may
+excuse me, if I am less silent henceforth.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Only do not forget who you are!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will not forget that I am a servant, and a servant, alas,
+who might be something better, if he had lived for it. I am your servant, it is
+true, but not so far as to wish to be damned along with you.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With me? And why do you say that now?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Because I am not a little astonished to find you different
+from what I expected.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Will you not inform me what you expected?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To find you all delight.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is only the common herd who are beside themselves
+immediately when luck smiles on them for once.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Perhaps, because the common herd still have the feelings which
+among greater people are corrupted and weakened by a thousand unnatural notions.
+But there is something besides moderation to be read in your face--coldness,
+irresolution, disinclination.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And if so? Have you forgotten who is here besides Sara? The
+presence of Marwood----</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Could make you anxious, I daresay, but not despondent.
+Something else troubles you. And I shall be glad to be mistaken in thinking you
+would rather that the father were not yet reconciled. The prospect of a position
+which so little suits your way of thinking----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Norton, Norton! Either you must have been, or still must be, a
+dreadful villain, that you can thus guess my thoughts. Since you have hit the
+nail upon the head, I will not deny it. It is true--so certain as it is that I
+shall love my Sara for ever so little does it please me, that I
+<i>must</i>--<i>must</i> love her for ever! But do not fear; I shall conquer
+this foolish fancy. Or do you think that it is no fancy? Who bids me look at
+marriage as compulsion? I certainly do not wish to be freer than she will permit
+me to be.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">These reflections are all very well. But Marwood will come to
+the aid of your old prejudices, and I fear, I fear----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That which will never happen! You shall see her go back this
+very evening to London. And as I have confessed my most secret--folly we will
+call it for the present--I must not conceal from you either, that I have put
+Marwood into such a fright that she will obey the slightest hint from me.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That sounds incredible to me.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Look! I snatched this murderous steel from her hand (<i>showing
+the dagger which he had taken from </i><span class="sc">Marwood</span>) when in a fearful rage she was
+on the point of stabbing me to the heart with it. Will you believe now, that I
+offered her a stout resistance? At first she well nigh succeeded in throwing her
+noose around my neck again. The traitoress!--She has Arabella with her.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Arabella?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have not yet been able to fathom by what cunning she got the
+child back into her hands again. Enough, the result did not fall out as she no
+doubt had expected.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Allow me to rejoice at your firmness, and to consider your
+reformation half assured. Yet,--as you wish me to know all--what business had
+she here under the name of Lady Solmes?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She wanted of all things to see her rival. I granted her wish
+partly from kindness, partly from rashness, partly from the desire to humiliate
+her by the sight of the best of her sex. You shake your head, Norton?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I should not have risked that.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Risked? I did not risk anything more, after all, than what I
+should have had to risk if I had refused her. She would have tried to obtain
+admittance as Marwood; and the worst that can be expected from her incognito
+visit is not worse than that.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Thank Heaven that it went off so quietly.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is not quite over yet, Norton. A slight indisposition came
+over her and compelled her to go away without taking leave. She wants to come
+again. Let her do so! The wasp which has lost its sting (<i>pointing to the
+dagger</i>) can do nothing worse than buzz. But buzzing too shall cost her dear,
+if she grows too troublesome with it. Do I not hear somebody coming? Leave me if
+it should be she. It is she. Go! (<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Norton</span>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Marwood</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No doubt you are little pleased to see me again.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am very pleased, Marwood, to see that your indisposition has
+had no further consequences. You are better, I hope?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So, so.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You have not done well, then, to trouble to come here again.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I thank you, Mellefont, if you say this out of kindness to me;
+and I do not take it amiss, if you have another meaning in it.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am pleased to see you so calm.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The storm is over. Forget it, I beg you once more.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Only remember your promise, Marwood, and I will forget
+everything with pleasure. But if I knew that you would not consider it an
+offence, I should like to ask----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ask on, Mellefont! You cannot offend me any more. What were
+you going to ask?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How you liked my Sara?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The question is natural. My answer will not seem so natural,
+but it is none the less true for that. I liked her very much.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Such impartiality delights me. But would it be possible for
+him who knew how to appreciate the charms of a Marwood to make a bad choice?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You ought to have spared me this flattery, Mellefont, if it is
+flattery. It is not in accordance with our intention to forget each other.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You surely do not wish me to facilitate this intention by
+rudeness? Do not let our separation be of an ordinary nature. Let us break with
+each other as people of reason who yield to necessity; without bitterness,
+without anger, and with the preservation of a certain degree of respect, as
+behoves our former intimacy.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Former intimacy! I do not wish to be reminded of it. No more
+of it. What must be, must, and it matters little how. But one word more about
+Arabella. You will not let me have her?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, Marwood!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is cruel, since you can no longer be her father, to take
+her mother also from her.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I can still be her father, and will be so.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prove it, then, now!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Permit Arabella to have the riches which I have in keeping for
+you, as her father's inheritance. As to her mother's inheritance I wish I could
+leave her a better one than the shame of having been borne by me.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not speak so! I shall provide for Arabella without
+embarrassing her mother's property. If she wishes to forget me, she must begin
+by forgetting that she possesses anything from me. I have obligations towards
+her, and I shall never forget that really--though against her will--she has
+promoted my happiness. Yes, Marwood, in all seriousness I thank you for
+betraying our retreat to a father whose ignorance of it alone prevented him from
+receiving us again.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not torture me with gratitude which I never wished to
+deserve. Sir William is too good an old fool; he must think differently from
+what I should have thought in his place. I should have forgiven my daughter, but
+as to her seducer I should have----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">True; you yourself are the seducer! I am silent. Shall I be
+presently allowed to pay my farewell visit to Miss Sampson?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sara could not be offended, even if you left without seeing
+her again.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mellefont, I do not like playing my part by halves, and I have
+no wish to be taken, even under an assumed name, for a woman without breeding.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you care for your own peace of mind you ought to avoid
+seeing a person again who must awaken certain thoughts in you which----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>smiling disdainfully</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You have a better opinion of yourself than of me. But even if
+you believed that I should be inconsolable on your account, you ought at least
+to believe it in silence.--Miss Sampson would awaken certain thoughts in me?
+Certain thoughts! Oh yes; but none more certain than this--that the best girl
+can often love the most worthless man.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Charming, Marwood, perfectly charming. Now you are as I have
+long wished to see you; although I could almost have wished, as I told you
+before, that we could have retained some respect for each other. But this may
+perhaps come still when once your fermenting heart has cooled down. Excuse me
+for a moment. I will fetch Miss Sampson to see you.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>looking round</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Am I alone? Can I take breath again unobserved, and let the
+muscles of my face relax into their natural position? I must just for a moment
+be the true Marwood in all my features to be able again to bear the restraint of
+dissimulation! How I hate thee, base dissimulation! Not because I love
+sincerity, but because thou art the most pitiable refuge of powerless revenge. I
+certainly would not condescend to thee, if a tyrant would lend me his power or
+Heaven its thunderbolt.--Yet, if thou only servest my end! The beginning is
+promising, and Mellefont seems disposed to grow more confident. If my device
+succeeds and I can speak alone with his Sara; then-yes, then, it is still very
+uncertain whether it will be of any use to me. The truths about Mellefont will
+perhaps be no novelty to her; the calumnies she will perhaps not believe, and
+the threats, perhaps, despise. But yet she shall hear truths, calumnies and
+threats. It would be bad, if they did not leave any sting at all in her mind.
+Silence; they are coming. I am no longer Marwood, I am a worthless outcast, who
+tries by little artful tricks to turn aside her shame,--a bruised worm, which
+turns and fain would wound at least the heel of him who trod upon it.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sara, Mellefont, Marwood</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am happy, Madam, that my uneasiness on your account has been
+unnecessary.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I thank you! The attack was so insignificant that it need not
+have made you uneasy.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Solmes wishes to take leave of you, dearest Sara!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So soon, Madam?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I cannot go soon enough for those who desire my presence in
+London.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You surely are not going to leave to-day?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To-morrow morning, first thing.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To-morrow morning, first thing? I thought to-day.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Our acquaintance, Madam, commences hurriedly. I hope to be
+honoured with a more intimate intercourse with you at some future time.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I solicit your friendship, Miss Sampson.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I pledge myself, dearest Sara, that this desire of Lady Solmes
+is sincere, although I must tell you beforehand that you will certainly not see
+each other again for a long time. Lady Solmes will very rarely be able to live
+where we are.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How subtle!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That is to deprive me of a very pleasant anticipation,
+Mellefont!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I shall be the greatest loser!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But in reality, Madam, do you not start before tomorrow
+morning?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It may be sooner! (<i>Aside</i>.) No one comes.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">We do not wish to remain much longer here either. It will be
+well, will it not, Sara, to follow our answer without delay? Sir William cannot
+be displeased with our haste.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Betty, Mellefont, Sara, Marwood</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What is it, Betty?</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Somebody wishes to speak with you immediately.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! now all depends on whether----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Me? Immediately? I will come at once. Madam, is it agreeable
+to you to shorten your visit?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why so, Mellefont? Lady Solmes will be so kind as to wait for
+your return.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon me; I know my cousin Mellefont, and prefer to depart
+with him.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The stranger, sir--he wishes only to say a word to you. He
+says, that he has not a moment to lose.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go, please! I will be with him directly. I expect it will be
+some news at last about the agreement which I mentioned to you. (<i>Exit</i>
+Betty.)</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A good conjecture!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But still, Madam----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you order it, then, I must bid you----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh no, Mellefont; I am sure you will not grudge me the
+pleasure of entertaining Lady Solmes during your absence?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You wish it, Sara?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not stay now, dearest Mellefont, but come back again soon!
+And come with a more joyful face, I will wish! You doubtless expect an
+unpleasant answer. Don't let this disturb you. I am more desirous to see whether
+after all you can gracefully prefer me to an inheritance, than I am to know that
+you are in the possession of one.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I obey. (<i>In a warning tone</i>.) I shall be sure to come
+back in a moment, Madam.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Lucky so far. <span style="letter-spacing:2em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>(<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Mellefont</span>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sara, Marwood</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My good Mellefont sometimes gives his polite phrases quite a
+wrong accent. Do not you think so too, Madam?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am no doubt too much accustomed to his way already to notice
+anything of that sort.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Will you not take a seat, Madam?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you desire it. (<i>Aside, whilst they are seating
+themselves</i>.) I must not let this moment slip by unused.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Tell me! Shall I not be the most enviable of women with my
+Mellefont?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If Mellefont knows how to appreciate his happiness, Miss
+Sampson will make him the most enviable of men. But----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A &quot;but,&quot; and then a pause, Madam----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am frank, Miss Sampson.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And for this reason infinitely more to be esteemed.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Frank--not seldom imprudently so. My &quot;but&quot; is a proof of it. A
+very imprudent &quot;but.&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not think that my Lady Solmes can wish through this
+evasion to make me more uneasy. It must be a cruel mercy that only rouses
+suspicions of an evil which it might disclose.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not at all, Miss Sampson! You attach far too much importance
+to my &quot;but.&quot; Mellefont is a relation of mine----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then all the more important is the slightest charge which you
+have to make against him.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But even were Mellefont my brother, I must tell you, that I
+should unhesitatingly side with one of my own sex against him, if I perceived
+that he did not act quite honestly towards her. We women ought properly to
+consider every insult shown to one of us as an insult to the whole sex, and to
+make it a common affair, in which even the sister and mother of the guilty one
+ought not to hesitate to share.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This remark----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Has already been my guide now and then in doubtful cases.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And promises me--I tremble.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, Miss Sampson, if you mean to tremble, let us speak of
+something else----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Cruel woman!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am sorry to be misunderstood. I at least, if I place myself
+in imagination in Miss Sampson's position, would regard as a favour any more
+exact information which one might give me about the man with whose fate I was
+about to unite my own for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you wish, Madam? Do I not know my Mellefont already?
+Believe me I know him, as I do my own soul. I know that he loves me----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And others----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Has</i> loved others. That I know also. Was he to love me,
+before he knew anything about me? Can I ask to be the only one who has had charm
+enough to attract him? Must I not confess it to myself, that I have striven to
+please him? Is he not so lovable, that he must have awakened this endeavour in
+many a breast? And isn't it but natural, if several have been successful in
+their endeavour?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You defend him with just the same ardour and almost the same
+words with which I have often defended him already. It is no crime to have
+loved; much less still is it a crime to have been loved. But fickleness is a
+crime.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not always; for often, I believe, it is rendered excusable by
+the objects of one's love, which seldom deserve to be loved for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Miss Sampson's doctrine of morals does not seem to be of the
+strictest.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is true; the one by which I judge those who themselves
+confess that they have taken to bad ways is not of the strictest. Nor should it
+be so. For here it is not a question of fixing the limits which virtue marks out
+for love, but merely of excusing the human weakness that has not remained within
+those limits and of judging the consequences arising therefrom by the rules of
+wisdom. If, for example, a Mellefont loves a Marwood and eventually abandons
+her; this abandonment is very praiseworthy in comparison with the love itself.
+It would be a misfortune if he had to love a vicious person for ever because he
+once had loved her.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But do you know this Marwood, whom you so confidently call a
+vicious person?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I know her from Mellefont's description.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mellefont's? Has it never occurred to you then that Mellefont
+must be a very invalid witness in his own affairs?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I see now, Madam, that you wish to put me to the test.
+Mellefont will smile, when you repeat to him how earnestly I have defended him.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I beg your pardon, Miss Sampson, Mellefont must not hear
+anything about this conversation. You are of too noble a mind to wish out of
+gratitude for a well-meant warning to estrange from him a relation, who speaks
+against him only because she looks upon his unworthy behaviour towards more than
+one of the most amiable of her sex as if she herself had suffered from it.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not wish to estrange anyone, and would that others wished
+it as little as I do.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Shall I tell you the story of Marwood in a few words?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not know. But still--yes, Madam! but under the condition
+that you stop as soon as Mellefont returns. He might think that I had inquired
+about it myself; and I should not like him to think me capable of a curiosity so
+prejudicial to him.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I should have asked the same caution of Miss Sampson, if she
+had not anticipated me. He must not even be able to suspect that Marwood has
+been our topic; and you will be so cautious as to act in accordance with this.
+Hear now! Marwood is of good family. She was a young widow, when Mellefont made
+her acquaintance at the house of one of her friends. They say, that she lacked
+neither beauty, nor the grace without which beauty would be nothing. Her good
+name was spotless. One single thing was wanting. Money. Everything that she had
+possessed,--and she is said to have had considerable wealth,--she had sacrificed
+for the deliverance of a husband from whom she thought it right to withhold
+nothing, after she had willed to give him heart and hand.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Truly a noble trait of character, which I wish could sparkle
+in a better setting!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In spite of her want of fortune she was sought by persons, who
+wished nothing more than to make her happy. Mellefont appeared amongst her rich
+and distinguished admirers. His offer was serious, and the abundance in which he
+promised to place Marwood was the least on which he relied. He knew, in their
+earliest intimacy, that he had not to deal with an egoist, but with a woman of
+refined feelings, who would have preferred to live in a hut with one she loved,
+than in a palace with one for whom she did not care.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Another trait which I grudge Miss Marwood. Do not flatter her
+any more, pray, Madam, or I might be led to pity her at last.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mellefont was just about to unite himself with her with due
+solemnity, when he received the news of the death of a cousin who left him his
+entire fortune on the condition that he should marry a distant relation. As
+Marwood had refused richer unions for his sake, he would not now yield to her in
+generosity. He intended to tell her nothing of this inheritance, until he had
+forfeited it through her. That was generously planned, was it not?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, Madam, who knows better than I, that Mellefont possesses
+the most generous of hearts?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But what did Marwood do? She heard late one evening, through
+some friends, of Mellefont's resolution. Mellefont came in the morning to see
+her, and Marwood was gone.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whereto? Why?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He found nothing but a letter from her, in which she told him
+that he must not expect ever to see her again. She did not deny, though, that
+she loved him; but for this very reason she could not bring herself to be the
+cause of an act, of which he must necessarily repent some day. She released him
+from his promise, and begged him by the consummation of the union, demanded by
+the will, to enter without further delay into the possession of a fortune, which
+an honourable man could employ for a better purpose than the thoughtless
+flattery of a woman.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, Madam, why do you attribute such noble sentiments to
+Marwood? Lady Solmes may be capable of such, I daresay, but not Marwood.
+Certainly not Marwood.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is not surprising, that you are prejudiced against her.
+Mellefont was almost distracted at Marwood's resolution. He sent people in all
+directions to search for her, and at last found her.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No doubly because she wished to be found!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No bitter jests! They do not become a woman of such gentle
+disposition. I say, he found her; and found her inexorable. She would not accept
+his hand on any account; and the promise to return to London was all that he
+could get from her. They agreed to postpone their marriage until his relative,
+tired of the long delay, should be compelled to propose an arrangement. In the
+meantime Marwood could not well renounce the daily visits from Mellefont, which
+for a long time were nothing but the respectful visits of a suitor, who has been
+ordered back within the bounds of friendship. But how impossible is it for a
+passionate temper not to transgress these bounds. Mellefont possesses everything
+which can make a man dangerous to us. Nobody can be more convinced of this than
+you yourself, Miss Sampson.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You sigh! Marwood too has sighed more than once over her
+weakness, and sighs yet.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Enough, Madam, enough! These words I should think, are worse
+than the bitter jest which you were pleased to forbid me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Its intention was not to offend you, but only to show you the
+unhappy Marwood in a light, in which you could most correctly judge her. To be
+brief--love gave Mellefont the rights of a husband; and Mellefont did not any
+longer consider it necessary to have them made valid by the law. How happy would
+Marwood be, if she, Mellefont, and Heaven alone knew of her shame! How happy if
+a pitiable daughter did not reveal to the whole world that which she would fain
+be able to hide from herself.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you say? A daughter----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, through the intervention of Sara Sampson, an unhappy
+daughter loses all hope of ever being able to name her parents without
+abhorrence.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Terrible words! And Mellefont has concealed this from me? Am I
+to believe it, Madam?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You may assuredly believe that Mellefont has perhaps concealed
+still more from you.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Still more? What more could he have concealed from me?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This,--that he still loves Marwood.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You will kill me!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is incredible that a love which has lasted more than ten
+years can die away so quickly. It may certainly suffer a short eclipse, but
+nothing but a short one, from which it breaks forth again with renewed
+brightness. I could name to you a Miss Oclaff, a Miss Dorcas, a Miss Moore, and
+several others, who one after another threatened to alienate from Marwood the
+man by whom they eventually saw themselves most cruelly deceived. There is a
+certain point beyond which he cannot go, and as soon as he gets face to face
+with it he draws suddenly back. But suppose, Miss Sampson, you were the one
+fortunate woman in whose case all circumstances declared themselves against him;
+suppose you succeeded in compelling him to conquer the disgust of a formal yoke
+which has now become innate to him; do you then expect to make sure of his heart
+in this way?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Miserable girl that I am! What must I hear?</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing less than that! He would then hurry back all the more
+into the arms of her who had not been so jealous of his liberty. You would be
+called his wife and she would be it.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not torment me longer with such dreadful pictures! Advise
+me rather, Madam, I pray you, advise me what to do. You must know him! You must
+know by what means it may still be possible to reconcile him with a bond without
+which even the most sincere love remains an unholy passion.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That one can catch a bird, I well know; but that one can
+render its cage more pleasant than the open field, I do not know. My advice,
+therefore, would be that one should rather not catch it, and should spare
+oneself the vexation of the profitless trouble. Content yourself, young lady,
+with the pleasure of having seen him very near your net; and as you can foresee,
+that he would certainly tear it if you tempted him in altogether, spare your net
+and do not tempt him in.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not know whether I rightly understand your playful
+parable----</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you are vexed with it, you have understood it. In one word.
+Your own interest as well as that of another--wisdom as well as justice, can,
+and must induce Miss Sampson to renounce her claims to a man to whom Marwood has
+the first and strongest claim. You are still in such a position with regard to
+him that you can withdraw, I will not say with much honour, but still without
+public disgrace. A short disappearance with a lover is a stain, it is true; but
+still a stain which time effaces. In some years all will be forgotten, and for a
+rich heiress there are always men to be found, who are not so scrupulous. If
+Marwood were in such a position, and she needed no husband for her fading charms
+nor father for her helpless daughter, I am sure she would act more generously
+towards Miss Sampson than Miss Sampson acts towards her when raising these
+dishonourable difficulties.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>rising angrily</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This is too much! Is that the language of a relative of
+Mellefont's? How shamefully you are betrayed, Mellefont! Now I perceive, Madam,
+why he was so unwilling to leave you alone with me. He knows already, I daresay,
+how much one has to fear from your tongue. A poisoned tongue! I speak
+boldly--for your unseemly talk has continued long enough. How has Marwood been
+able to enlist such a mediator; a mediator who summons all her ingenuity to
+force upon me a dazzling romance about her; und employs every art to rouse my
+suspicion against the loyalty of a man, who is a man but not a monster? Was it
+only for this that I was told that Marwood boasted of a daughter from him; only
+for this that I was told of this and that forsaken girl--in order that you might
+be enabled to hint to me in cruel fashion that I should do well if I gave place
+to a hardened strumpet!</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not so passionate, if you please, young lady! A hardened
+strumpet? You are surely using words whose full meaning you have not considered.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Does she not appear such, even from Lady Solmes's description?
+Well, Madam, you are her friend, perhaps her intimate friend. I do not say this
+as a reproach, for it may well be that it is hardly possible in this world to
+have virtuous friends only. Yet why should I be so humiliated for the sake of
+this friendship of yours? If I had had Marwood's experience, I should certainly
+not have committed the error which places me on such a humiliating level with
+her. But if I had committed it, I should certainly not have continued in it for
+ten years. It is one thing to fall into vice from ignorance; and another to grow
+intimate with it when you know it. Alas, Madam, if you knew what regret, what
+remorse, what anxiety my error has cost me! My error, I say, for why shall I be
+so cruel to myself any longer, and look upon it as a crime? Heaven itself ceases
+to consider it such; it withdraws my punishment, and gives me back my
+father.--But I am frightened, Madam; how your features are suddenly transformed!
+They glow-rage speaks from the fixed eye, and the quivering movement of the
+mouth. Ah, if I have vexed you, Madam, I beg for pardon! I am a foolish,
+sensitive creature; what you have said was doubtless not meant so badly. Forget
+my rashness! How can I pacify you? How can I also gain a friend in you as
+Marwood has done? Let me, let me entreat you on my knees (<i>falling down upon
+her knees</i>) for your friendship, and if I cannot have this, at least for the
+justice not to place me and Marwood in one and the same rank.</p>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>proudly stepping back and leaving Sara on her knees</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This position of Sara Sampson is too charming for Marwood to
+triumph in it unrecognised. In me, Miss Sampson, behold the Marwood with whom on
+your knees you beg--Marwood herself--not to compare you.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>springing up and drawing back in terror</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You Marwood? Ha! Now I recognise her--now I recognise the
+murderous deliverer, to whose dagger a warning dream exposed me. It is she!
+Away, unhappy Sara! Save me, Mellefont; save your beloved! And thou, sweet voice
+of my beloved father, call! Where does it call? Whither shall I hasten to
+it?--here?--there?--Help, Mellefont! Help, Betty! Now she approaches me with
+murderous hand! Help! (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IX.</h3>
+
+<h3>MARWOOD.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What does the excitable girl mean? Would that she spake the
+truth, and that I approached her with murderous hand! I ought to have spared the
+dagger until now, fool that I was! What delight to be able to stab a rival at
+one's feet in her voluntary humiliation! What now? I am detected. Mellefont may
+be here this minute. Shall I fly from him? Shall I await him? I will wait, but
+not in idleness. Perhaps the cunning of my servant will detain him long enough?
+I see I am feared. Why do I not follow her then? Why do I not try the last
+expedient which I can use against her? Threats are pitiable weapons; but despair
+despises no weapons, however pitiable they may be. A timid girl, who flies
+stupid and terror-stricken from my mere name, can easily take dreadful words for
+dreadful deeds. But Mellefont! Mellefont will give her fresh courage, and teach
+her to scorn my threats. He will! Perhaps he will not! Few things would have
+been undertaken in this world, if men had always looked to the end. And am I not
+prepared for the most fatal end? The dagger was for others, the drug is for me!
+The drug for me! Long carried by me near my heart, it here awaits its sad
+service; here, where in better times I hid the written flatteries of my
+lovers,--poison for us equally sure if slower. Would it were not destined to
+rage in my veins only! Would that a faithless one--why do I waste my time in
+wishing? Away! I must not recover my reason nor she hers. He will dare nothing,
+who wishes to dare in cold blood!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT V.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sara's </span><i>room</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">Sara (<i>reclining in an armchair</i>), Betty.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do you feel a little better, Miss?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Better--I wish only that Mellefont would return! You have sent
+for him, have you not?</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Norton and the landlord have gone for him.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Norton is a good fellow, but he is rash. I do not want him by
+any means to be rude to his master on my account. According to his story,
+Mellefont is innocent of all this. She follows him; what can he do? She storms,
+she raves, she tries to murder him. Do you see, Betty, I have exposed him to
+this danger? Who else but me? And the wicked Marwood at last insisted on seeing
+me or she would not return to London. Could he refuse her this trifling request?
+Have not I too often been curious to see Marwood. Mellefont knows well that we
+are curious creatures. And if I had not insisted myself that she should remain
+with me until his return, he would have taken her away with him. I should have
+seen her under a false name, without knowing that I had seen her. And I should
+perhaps have been pleased with this little deception at some future time. In
+short, it is all my fault. Well, well, I was frightened; nothing more! The swoon
+was nothing. You know, Betty, I am subject to such fits.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But I had never seen you in so deep a swoon before.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not tell me so, please! I must have caused you a great deal
+of trouble, my good girl.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood herself seemed moved by your danger. In spite of all I
+could do she would not leave the room, until you had opened your eyes a little
+and I could give you the medicine.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">After all I must consider it fortunate that I swooned. For who
+knows what more I should have had to hear from her! She certainly can hardly
+have followed me into my room without a purpose! You cannot imagine how
+terrified I was. The dreadful dream I had last night recurred to me suddenly,
+and I fled, like an insane woman who does not know why and whither she flies.
+But Mellefont does not come. Ah!</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What a sigh, Miss! What convulsions!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">God! what sensation was this----</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What was that?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing, Betty! A pain! Not one pain, a thousand burning pains
+in one! But do not be uneasy; it is over now!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Norton, Sara, Betty</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mellefont will be here in a moment.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That is well, Norton! But where did you find him?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A stranger had enticed him beyond the town gate, where he said
+a gentleman waited for him, to speak with him about matters of the greatest
+importance. After taking him from place to place for a long time, the swindler
+slunk away from him. It will be bad for him if he lets himself be caught;
+Mellefont is furious.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Did you tell him what has happened?</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">All.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But in such a way!----</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I could not think about the way. Enough! He knows what anxiety
+his imprudence has again caused you.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not so, Norton; I have caused it myself.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why may Mellefont never be in the wrong? Come in, sir; love
+has already excused you.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Norton, Sara, Betty</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Sara! If this love of yours were not----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then I should certainly be the unhappier of the two. If
+nothing more vexatious has happened to you in your absence than to me, I am
+happy.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have not deserved to be so kindly received.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let my weakness be my excuse, that I do not receive you more
+tenderly. If only for your sake, I would that I was well again.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! Marwood! this treachery too! The scoundrel who led me with
+a mysterious air from one street to another can assuredly have been a messenger
+of her only! See, dearest Sara, she employed this artifice to get me away from
+you. A clumsy artifice certainly, but just from its very clumsiness, I was far
+from taking it for one. She shall have her reward for this treachery! Quick,
+Norton, go to her lodgings; do not lose sight of her, and detain her until I
+come!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What for, Mellefont? I intercede for Marwood.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go! <span style="letter-spacing: 2em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>(<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Norton</span>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sara, Mellefont, Betty</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pray let the wearied enemy who has ventured the last fruitless
+assault retire in peace! Without Marwood I should be ignorant of much----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Much? What is the &quot;much?&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What you would not have told me, Mellefont! You start! Well, I
+will forget it again, since you do not wish me to know it.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I hope that you will not believe any ill of me which has no
+better foundation than the jealousy of an angry slanderer.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">More of this another time! But why do you not tell me first of
+all about the danger in which your precious life was placed? I, Mellefont, I
+should have been the one who had sharpened the sword, with which Marwood had
+stabbed you.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The danger was not so great. Marwood was driven by blind
+passion, and I was cool, so her attack could not but fail. I only wish that she
+may not have been more successful with another attack--upon Sara's good opinion
+of her Mellefont! I must almost fear it. No, dearest Sara, do not conceal from
+me any longer what you have learned from her.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well! If I had still had the least doubt of your love,
+Mellefont, Marwood in her anger would have removed it. She surely must feel that
+through me she has lost that which is of the greatest value to her; for an
+uncertain loss would have let her act more cautiously.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I shall soon learn to set some store by her bloodthirsty
+jealousy, her impetuous insolence, her treacherous cunning! But Sara! You wish
+again to evade my question and not to reveal to me----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will; and what I said was indeed a step towards it. That
+Mellefont loves me, then, is undeniably certain. If only I had not discovered
+that his love lacked a certain confidence, which would be as flattering to me as
+his love itself. In short, dearest Mellefont--Why does a sudden anxiety make it
+so difficult for me to speak?--Well, I suppose I shall have to tell it without
+seeking for the most prudent form in which to say it. Marwood mentioned a pledge
+of love; and the talkative Norton--forgive him, pray--told me a name--a name,
+Mellefont, which must rouse in you another tenderness than that which you feel
+for me.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is it possible? Has the shameless woman confessed her own
+disgrace? Alas, Sara, have pity on my confusion! Since you already know all, why
+do you wish to hear it again from my lips? She shall never come into your
+sight,--the unhappy child, who has no other fault than that of having such a
+mother.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You love her, then, in spite of all?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Too much, Sara, too much for me to deny it.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Mellefont! How I too love you, for this very love's sake!
+You would have offended me deeply, if you had denied the sympathy of your blood
+for any scruples on my account. You have hurt me already in that you have
+threatened me never to let her come into my sight. No, Mellefont! That you will
+never forsake Arabella must be one of the promises which you vow to me in
+presence of the Almighty! In the hands of her mother she is in danger of
+becoming unworthy of her father. Use your authority over both, and let me take
+the place of Marwood. Do not refuse me the happiness of bringing up for myself a
+friend who owes her life to you--a Mellefont of my own sex. Happy days, when my
+father, when you, when Arabella will vie in your calls on my filial respect, my
+confiding love, my watchful friendship. Happy days! But, alas! They are still
+far distant in the future. And perhaps even the future knows nothing of them,
+perhaps they exist only in my own desire for happiness! Sensations, Mellefont,
+sensations which I never before experienced, turn my eyes to another prospect. A
+dark prospect, with awful shadows! What sensations are these? (<i>puts her hand
+before her face</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What sudden change from exultation to terror! Hasten, Betty!
+Bring help! What ails you, generous Sara! Divine soul! Why does this jealous
+hand (<i>moving it away</i>) hide these sweet looks from me? Ah, they are looks
+which unwillingly betray cruel pain. And yet this hand is jealous to hide these
+looks from me. Shall I not share your pain with you? Unhappy man, that I can
+only share it--that I may not feel it alone! Hasten, Betty!</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whither shall I hasten?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You see, and yet ask? For help!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Stay. It passes over. I will not frighten you again,
+Mellefont.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What has happened to her, Betty? These are not merely the
+results of a swoon.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Norton, Mellefont, Sara, Betty</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are back again already, Norton? That is well! You will be
+of more use here.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood is gone----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And my curses follow her! She is gone? Whither? May misfortune
+and death, and, were it possible, a whole hell lie in her path! May Heaven
+thunder a consuming fire upon her, may the earth burst open under her, and
+swallow the greatest of female monsters!</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">As soon as she returned to her lodgings, she threw herself
+into her carriage, together with Arabella and her maid, and hurried away, at
+full gallop. This sealed note was left behind for you.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>taking the note</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is addressed to me. Shall I read it, Sara?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">When you are calmer, Mellefont.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Calmer? Can I be calmer, before I have revenged myself on her,
+and before I know that you are out of danger, dearest Sara?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let me not hear of revenge! Revenge is not ours.--But you open
+the letter? Alas, Mellefont! Why are we less prone to certain virtues with a
+healthy body, which feels its strength, than with a sick and wearied one? How
+hard are gentleness and moderation to you, and how unnatural to me appears the
+impatient heat of passion! Keep the contents for yourself alone.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What spirit is it that seems to compel me to disobey you? I
+opened it against my will, and against my will I must read it!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>whilst </i><span class="sc">Mellefont </span><i>reads to himself</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How cunningly man can disunite his nature, and make of his
+passions another being than himself, on whom he can lay the blame for that which
+in cold blood he disapproves.--The water, Betty! I fear another shock, and shall
+need it. Do you see what effect the unlucky note has on him? Mellefont! You lose
+your senses, Mellefont! God! he is stunned! Here, Betty. Hand him the water! He
+needs it more than I.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>pushing </i><span class="sc">Betty </span><i>back</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Back, unhappy girl! Your medicines are poison!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you say? Recover yourself! You do not recognise her.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am Betty,--take it!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Wish rather, unhappy girl, that you were not she! Quick! Fly,
+before in default of the guiltier one you become the guilty victim of my rage.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What words! Mellefont, dearest Mellefont----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The last &quot;dearest Mellefont&quot; from these divine lips, and then
+no more for ever! At your feet, Sara----(<i>throwing himself down</i>). But why
+at your feet? (<i>springing up again</i>). Disclose it? I disclose it to you?
+Yes! I will tell you, that you will hate me, that you must hate me! You shall
+not hear the contents, no, not from me. But you will hear them. You will----Why
+do you all stand here, stock still, doing nothing? Run, Norton, bring all the
+doctors? Seek help, Betty! Let your help be as effective as your error! No, stop
+here! I will go myself----</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whither, Mellefont? Help for what? Of what error do you speak?</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Divine help, Sara! or inhuman revenge! You are lost, dearest
+Sara! I too am lost! Would the world were lost with us!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sara, Norton, Betty</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He is gone! I am lost? What does he mean? Do you understand
+him, Norton? I am ill, very ill; but suppose the worst, that I must die, am I
+therefore lost? And why does he blame you, poor Betty? You wring your hands? Do
+not grieve; you cannot have offended him; he will bethink himself; Had he only
+done as I wished, and not read the note! He could have known that it must
+contain the last poisoned words from Marwood.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What terrible suspicion! No, it cannot be. I do not believe
+it! NORTON (<i>who has gone towards the back of the stage</i>). Your father's
+old servant, Miss.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let him come in, Norton.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Waitwell, Sara, Betty, Norton</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I suppose you are anxious for my answer, dear Waitwell. It is
+ready except a few lines. But why so alarmed? They must have told you that I am
+ill.</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And more still.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dangerously ill? I conclude so from Mellefont's passionate
+anxiety more than from my own feelings. Suppose, Waitwell, you should have to go
+with an unfinished letter from your unhappy Sara to her still more unhappy
+father! Let us hope for the best! Will you wait until to-morrow? Perhaps I shall
+find a few good moments to finish off the letter to your satisfaction. At
+present, I cannot do so. This hand hangs as if dead by my benumbed side. If the
+whole body dies away as easily as these limbs----you are an old man, Waitwell,
+and cannot be far from the last scene. Believe me, if that which I feel is the
+approach of death, then the approach of death is not so bitter. Ah! Do not mind
+this sigh! Wholly without unpleasant sensation it cannot be. Man could not be
+void of feeling; he must not be impatient. But, Betty, why are you so
+inconsolable?</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Permit me, Miss, permit me to leave you.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go; I well know it is not every one who can bear to be with
+the dying. Waitwell shall remain with me! And you, Norton, will do me a favour,
+if you go and look for your master. I long for his presence.</p>
+
+<h3>BETTY <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>going</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas, Norton, I took the medicine from Marwood's hands!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Waitwell, Sara</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Waitwell, if you will do me the kindness to remain with me,
+you must not let me see such a melancholy face. You are mute! Speak, I pray! And
+if I may ask it, speak of my father! Repeat all the comforting words which you
+said to me a few hours ago. Repeat them to me, and tell me too, that the Eternal
+Heavenly Father cannot be less merciful. I can die with that assurance, can I
+not? Had this befallen me before your arrival, how would I have fared? I should
+have despaired, Waitwell. To leave this world burdened with the hatred of him,
+who belies his nature when he is forced to hate--what a thought! Tell him that I
+died with the feelings of the deepest remorse, gratitude and love. Tell
+him--alas, that I shall not tell him myself--how full my heart is of all the
+benefits I owe to him. My life was the smallest amongst them. Would that I could
+yield up at his feet the ebbing portion yet remaining!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do you really wish to see him, Miss?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">At length you speak--to doubt my deepest, my last desire!</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Where shall I find the words which I have so long been vainly
+seeking? A sudden joy is as dangerous as a sudden terror. I fear only that the
+effect of his unexpected appearance might be too violent for so tender a heart!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you mean? The unexpected appearance of whom?</p>
+
+<h3>WAITWELL.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Of the wished-for one! Compose yourself!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IX.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sir William Sampson, Sara, Waitwell</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You stay too long, Waitwell! I must see her!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whose voice----</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, my daughter!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, my father! Help me to rise, Waitwell, help me to rise that
+I may throw myself at his feet, (<i>she endeavours to rise and falls back again
+into the arm-chair</i>). Is it he, or is it an apparition sent from heaven like
+the angel who came to strengthen the Strong One? Bless me, whoever thou art,
+whether a messenger from the Highest in my father's form or my father himself!</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">God bless thee, my daughter! Keep quiet (<i>she tries again to
+throw herself at his feet</i>). Another time, when you have regained your
+strength, I shall not be displeased to see you clasp my faltering knees.</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, my father, or never! Soon I shall be no more! I shall be
+only too happy if I still have a few moments to reveal my heart to you. But not
+moments--whole days--another life, would be necessary to tell all that a guilty,
+chastened and repentant daughter can say to an injured but generous and loving
+father. My offence, and your forgiveness----</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not reproach yourself for your weakness, nor give me credit
+for that which is only my duty. When you remind me of my pardon, you remind me
+also of my hesitation in granting it. Why did I not forgive you at once? Why did
+I reduce you to the necessity of flying from me. And this very day, when I had
+already forgiven you, what was it that forced me to wait first for an answer
+from you? I could already have enjoyed a whole day with you if I had hastened at
+once to your arms. Some latent spleen must still have lain in the innermost
+recesses of my disappointed heart, that I wished first to be assured of the
+continuance of your love before I gave you mine again. Ought a father to act so
+selfishly? Ought we only to love those who love us? Chide me, dearest Sara!
+Chide me! I thought more of my own joy in you than of you yourself. And if I
+were now to lose this joy? But who, then, says that I must lose it? You will
+live; you will still live long. Banish all these black thoughts! Mellefont
+magnifies the danger. He put the whole house in an uproar, and hurried away
+himself to fetch the doctors, whom he probably will not find in this miserable
+place. I saw his passionate anxiety, his hopeless sorrow, without being seen by
+him. Now I know that he loves you sincerely; now I do not grudge him you any
+longer. I will wait here for him and lay your hand in his. What I would
+otherwise have done only by compulsion, I now do willingly, since I see how dear
+you are to him. Is it true that it was Marwood herself who caused you this
+terror? I could understand this much from your Betty's lamentations, but nothing
+more. But why do I inquire into the causes of your illness, when I ought only to
+be thinking how to remedy it. I see you growing fainter every moment, I see it
+and stand helplessly here. What shall I do, Waitwell? Whither shall I run? What
+shall I give her? My fortune? My life? Speak!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dearest father! all help would be in vain! The dearest help,
+purchased with your life, would be of no avail.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> X.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mellefont, Sara, Sir William, Waitwell</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do I dare to set my foot again in this room? Is she still
+alive?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Step nearer, Mellefont!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Am I to see your face again? No, Sara; I return without
+consolation, without help. Despair alone brings me back. But whom do I see? You,
+Sir? Unhappy father! You have come to a dreadful scene! Why did you not come
+sooner? You are too late to save your daughter! But, be comforted! You shall not
+have come too late to see yourself revenged.</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not remember in this moment, Mellefont, that we have ever
+been at enmity! We are so no more, and we shall never be so again. Only keep my
+daughter for me, and you shall keep a wife for yourself.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Make me a god, and then repeat your prayer! I have brought so
+many misfortunes to you already, Sara, that I need not hesitate to announce the
+last one. You must die! And do you know by whose hand you die?</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not wish to know it--that I can suspect it is already too
+much----</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You must know it, for who could be assured that you did not
+suspect wrongly? Marwood writes thus: (<i>he reads</i>) &quot;When you read this
+letter, Mellefont, your infidelity will already be punished in its cause. I had
+made myself known to her and she had swooned with terror. Betty did her utmost
+to restore her to consciousness. I saw her taking out a soothing-powder, and the
+happy idea occurred to me of exchanging it for a poisonous one. I feigned to be
+moved, and anxious to help her, and prepared the draught myself. I saw it given
+to her, and went away triumphant. Revenge and rage have made me a murderess; but
+I will not be like a common murderess who does not venture to boast of her deed.
+I am on my way to Dover; you can pursue me, and let my own handwriting bear
+witness against me. If I reach the harbour unpursued I will leave Arabella
+behind unhurt. Till then I shall look upon her as a hostage, Marwood.&quot; Now you
+know all, Sara! Here, Sir, preserve this paper! You must bring the murderess to
+punishment, and for this it is indispensable.--How motionless he stands!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Give me this paper, Mellefont! I will convince myself with my
+own eyes (<i>he hands it to her and she looks at it for a moment</i>). Shall I
+still have sufficient strength? (<i>tears it</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What are you doing, Sara!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marwood will not escape her fate; but neither you nor my
+father shall be her accusers. I die, and forgive the hand through which God
+chastens me. Alas, my father, what gloomy grief has taken hold of you? I love
+you still, Mellefont, and if loving you is a crime, how guilty shall I enter
+yonder world! Would I might hope, dearest father, that you would receive a son
+in place of a daughter! And with him you will have a daughter too, if you will
+acknowledge Arabella as such. You must fetch her back, Mellefont; her mother may
+escape. Since my father loves me, why should I not be allowed to deal with this
+love as with a legacy? I bequeath this fatherly love to you and Arabella. Speak
+now and then to her of a friend from whose example she may learn to be on her
+guard against love. A last blessing, my father!--Who would venture to judge the
+ways of the Highest?--Console your master, Waitwell! But you too stand there in
+grief and despair, you who lose in me neither a lover nor a daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">We ought to be giving you courage, and your dying eyes are
+giving it to us. No more, my earthly daughter--half angel already; of what avail
+can the blessing of a mourning father be to a spirit upon whom all the blessings
+of heaven flow? Leave me a ray of the light which raises you so far above
+everything human. Or pray to God, who hears no prayer so surely as that of a
+pious and departing soul--pray to Him that this day may be the last of my life
+also!</p>
+
+<h3>SARA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">God must let the virtue which has been tested remain long in
+this world as an example; only the weak virtue which would perhaps succumb to
+too many temptations is quickly raised above the dangerous confines of the
+earth. For whom do these tears flow, my father? They fall like fiery drops upon
+my heart; and yet--yet they are less terrible to me than mute despair. Conquer
+it, Mellefont!--My eyes grow dim.--That sigh was the last! But where is
+Betty?--Now I understand the wringing of her hands.--Poor girl!--Let no one
+reproach her with carelessness, it is excused by a heart without falsehood, and
+without suspicion of it.--The moment is come! Mellefont--my father--(<i>dies</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She dies! Ah, let me kiss this cold hand once more (<i>throwing
+himself at her feet</i>). No! I will not venture to touch her. The old saying
+that the body of the slain bleeds at the touch of the murderer, frightens me.
+And who is her murderer? Am I not he, more than Marwood? (<i>rises</i>) She is
+dead now, Sir; she does not hear us any more. Curse me now. Vent your grief in
+well-deserved curses. May none of them miss their mark, and may the most
+terrible be fulfilled twofold! Why do you remain silent? She is dead! She is
+certainly dead. Now, again, I am nothing but Mellefont! I am no more the lover
+of a tender daughter, whom you would have reason to spare in him. What is that?
+I do not want your compassionate looks! This is your daughter! I am her seducer.
+Bethink yourself, Sir! In what way can I rouse your anger? This budding beauty,
+who was yours alone, became my prey! For my sake her innocent virtue was
+abandoned! For my sake she tore herself from the arms of a beloved father! For
+my sake she had to die! You make me impatient with your forbearance, Sir! Let me
+see that you are a father!</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am a father, Mellefont, and am too much a father not to
+respect the last wish of my daughter. Let me embrace you, my son, for whom I
+could not have paid a higher price!</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not so, Sir! This angel enjoined more than human nature is
+capable of! You cannot be my father. Behold, Sir (<i>drawing the dagger from
+his bosom</i>), this is the dagger which Marwood drew upon me to-day. To my
+misfortune, I disarmed her. Had I fallen a guilty victim of her jealousy, Sara
+would still be living. You would have your daughter still, and have her without
+Mellefont. It is not for me to undo what is done--but to punish myself for it is
+still in my power! (<i>he stabs himself and sinks down at </i><span class="sc">Sara's </span><i>side</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hold him, Waitwell! What new blow upon my stricken head! Oh,
+would that my own might make the third dying heart here.</p>
+
+<h3>MELLEFONT <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>dying</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I feel it. I have not struck false. If now you will call me
+your son and press my hand as such, I shall die in peace. (<span class="sc">Sir William </span><i>
+embraces him</i>.) You have heard of an Arabella, for whom Sara pleaded; I
+should also plead for her; but she is Marwood's child as well as mine. What
+strange feeling seizes me? Mercy--O Creator, mercy!</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If the prayers of others are now of any avail, Waitwell, let
+us help him to pray for this mercy! He dies! Alas! He was more to pity than to
+blame.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> XI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Norton, The Others</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NORTON.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Doctors, Sir!----</p>
+
+<h3>SIR WILLIAM.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If they can work miracles, they may come in! Let me no longer
+remain at this deadly spectacle! One grave shall enclose both. Come and make
+immediate preparations, and then let us think of Arabella. Be she who she may,
+she is a legacy of my daughter! (<i>Exeunt</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<h1><a name="div1Ref_Philotas" href="#div1_Philotas">PHILOTAS.</a></h1>
+<br>
+<h2>A TRAGEDY IN ONE ACT.</h2>
+
+<hr class="W20">
+
+<p class="normal">Philotos was written at Berlin in the year 1759. It was never
+represented, and was probably not intended for the stage. It is here translated
+for the first time into English.</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONĈ</h2>
+<div style="margin-left:20%">
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Aridäus</span>, <i>the King</i>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Strato</span>, <i>a General of </i><span class="sc">Aridäus</span>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Philotas</span>, <i>a prisoner</i>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Parmenio</span>, <i>a soldier</i>.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>PHILOTAS.</h1>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The scene is laid in a tent in the camp of </i><span class="sc">
+Aridäus</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Am I really a prisoner? A prisoner? A worthy commencement this
+of my apprenticeship in war. O ye gods! O my father! How gladly would I persuade
+myself that all was but a dream! My earliest years have never dreamt of anything
+but arms and camps, battles and assaults. Could not the youth too be dreaming
+now of loss and defeat? Do not delude thyself thus, Philotas!--If I did not see,
+did not feel the wound through which the sword dropped from my palsied
+hand.--They have dressed it for me against my will! O cruel mercy of a cunning
+foe! &quot;It is not mortal,&quot; said the surgeon, and thought to console me. Wretch, it
+should be mortal! And one wound only, only one! Did I know that I should make it
+mortal by tearing it open and dressing it and tearing it open again.--I rave,
+unhappy wretch. And with what a scornful face--I now recall it--that aged
+warrior looked at me--who snatched me from my horse! He called me--child! His
+king, too, must take me for a child, a pampered child. To what a tent he has had
+me brought! Adorned and provided with comforts of every sort! It must belong to
+one of his mistresses! A disgusting place for a soldier! And instead of being
+guarded, I am served. O mocking civility!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Strato. Philotas</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince--</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Another visitor already? Old man, I like to be alone!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince! I come by order of the king.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I understand you! It is true, I am the king's prisoner, and it
+rests with him how he will have me treated. But listen: if you are the man whose
+features you bear,--if you are an old and honest warrior, have pity on me, and
+beg the king to have me treated as a soldier, not as a woman.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He will be with you directly; I come to announce his approach.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The king with me? And you come to announce him? I do not wish
+that he should spare me one of the humiliations to which a prisoner must submit.
+Come, lead me to him! After the disgrace of having been disarmed, nothing is
+disgraceful to me now.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince! Your countenance, so full of youthful graces, bespeaks
+a softer heart!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mock not my countenance! Your visage, full of scars, is
+assuredly a more handsome face.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">By the gods! A grand answer! I must admire and love you.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I would not object if only you had feared me first.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">More and more heroic! We have the most terrible of enemies
+before us, if there are many like Philotas amongst his youths.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not flatter me! To become terrible to you, they must
+combine greater deeds with my thoughts. May I know your name?</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Strato.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Strato? The brave Strato, who defeated my father on the Lycus?</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not recall that doubtful victory! And how bloodily did your
+father revenge himself in the plain of Methymna! Such a father must needs have
+such a son.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To you, the worthiest of my father's enemies, I may bewail my
+fate! You only can fully understand me; you too, you too have been consumed in
+your youth by the ambition of the glory--the glory of bleeding for your native
+land. Would you otherwise be what you are? How have I not begged, implored,
+conjured him--my father these seven days--for only seven days has the manly toga
+covered me--conjured him seven times on each of these seven days upon my knees
+to grant me that I should not in vain have outgrown my childhood,--to let me go
+with his warriors who had long cost me many a tear of jealousy. Yesterday I
+prevailed on him, the best of fathers, for Aristodem assisted my entreaties. You
+know Aristodem; he is my father's Strato.--&quot;Give me this youth, my king, to go
+with me to-morrow,&quot; spoke Aristodem, &quot;I am going to scour the mountains, in
+order to keep open the way to Cäsena.&quot; &quot;Would I could accompany you!&quot; sighed my
+father. He still lies sick from his wounds. &quot;But be it so!&quot; and with these words
+he embraced me. Ah, what did his happy son feel in that embrace! And the night
+which followed! I did not close my eyes; and yet dreams of glory and victory
+kept me on my couch until the second watch. Then I sprang up, threw on my new
+armour, pushed the uncurled hair beneath the helmet, chose from amongst my
+father's swords the one which matched my strength, mounted my horse and had
+tired out one already before the silver trumpet awakened the chosen band. They
+came, and I spoke with each of my companions, and many a brave warrior there
+pressed me to his scarred breast. Only with my father I did not speak; for I
+feared he might retract his word, if he should see me again. Then we marched. By
+the side of the immortal gods one cannot feel happier than did I by the side of
+Aristodem. At every encouraging glance from him I would have attacked a host
+alone, and thrown myself on the certain death of the enemy's swords. In quiet
+determination I rejoiced at every hill, from which I hoped to discern the enemy
+in the plain below, at every bend of the valley behind which I flattered myself
+that we should come upon them. And when at last I saw them rushing down upon us
+from the woody height,--showed them to my companions with the point of my
+sword,--flew up the mountain towards them, recall, O renowned warrior, the
+happiest of your youthful ecstasies, you could never have been happier. But now,
+now behold me, Strato; behold me ignominiously fallen from the summit of my
+lofty expectations! O how I shudder to repeat this fall again in thought! I had
+rushed too far in advance; I was wounded, and--imprisoned! Poor youth, thou
+hadst prepared thyself only for wounds, only for death,--and thou art made a
+prisoner! Thus always do the gods, in their severity, send only unforeseen evils
+to stultify our self-complacency. I weep--I must weep, although I fear to be
+despised for it by you. But despise me not! You turn away?</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am vexed: you should not move me thus. I become a child with
+you.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No; hear why I weep! It is no childish weeping which you deign
+to accompany with your manly tears. What I thought my greatest happiness, the
+tender love with which my father loves me, will now become my greatest misery. I
+fear, I fear he loves me more than he loves his empire! What will he not
+sacrifice, what will not your king exact from him, to rescue me from prison!
+Through me, wretched youth, will he lose in one day more than he has gained in
+three long toilsome years with the blood of his noble warriors, with his own
+blood. With what face shall I appear again before him? I, his worst enemy! And
+my father's subjects--mine at some future day, if I had made myself worthy to
+rule them. How will they be able to endure the ransomed prince amongst them
+without contemptuous scorn. And when I die for shame, and creep unmourned to the
+shades below, how gloomy and proud will pass by the souls of those heroes who
+for their king had to purchase with their lives those gains, which, as a father,
+he renounces for an unworthy son! Oh, that is more than a feeling heart can
+endure!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be comforted, dear prince! It is the fault of youth always to
+think itself more happy or less than it really is. Your fate is not so cruel
+yet;--the king approaches, you will hear more consolation from his lips.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">King Aridäus, Philotas, Strato</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The wars which kings are forced to wage together are no
+personal quarrels. Let me embrace you, prince! Ah what happy days your blooming
+youth recalls to me! Thus bloomed your father's youth! This was his open,
+speaking eye; these his earnest, honest features; this his noble bearing! Let me
+embrace you again; in you I embrace your younger father. Have you never heard
+from him, prince, what good friends we were at your age? That was the blessed
+age, when we could still abandon ourselves to our feelings without restraint.
+But soon we were both called to the throne, and the anxious king, the jealous
+neighbour, stifled, alas, the willing friend.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon me, O king, if you find me too cold in my reply to such
+sweet words. My youth has been taught to think, but not to speak. What can it
+now aid me, that you and my father once were friends? Were! so you say yourself.
+The hatred which one grafts on an extinguished friendship bears the most deadly
+fruit of all; or I still know the human heart too little. Do not, therefore, O
+king, do not prolong my despair. You have spoken as the polished statesman:
+speak now as the monarch, who has the rival of his greatness completely in: his
+power.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O king, do not let him be tormented longer by the uncertainty
+of his fate!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I thank you, Strato! Yes, let me hear at once, I beg you, how
+despicable you will render an unfortunate son in his father's eyes. With what
+disgraceful peace, with how many lands shall he redeem him? How small and
+contemptible shall he become, in order to regain his child? O my father!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This early, manly language too, prince, was your father's! I
+like to hear you speak thus. And would that my son, no less worthy of me, spoke
+thus before your father now.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What mean you by that?</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The gods--I am convinced of it--watch over our virtue, as they
+watch over our lives. To preserve both as long as possible is their secret and
+eternal work. Where is the mortal who knows how wicked he is at heart,--how
+viciously he would act, if they allowed free scope to each treacherous
+inducement to disgrace himself by little deeds! Yes, prince! Perhaps I might be
+he, whom you think me; perhaps I might not have sufficient nobleness of thought
+to use with modesty the strange fortune of war, which delivered you into my
+hands; perhaps I might have tried through you to exact that for which I would no
+longer venture to contend by arms; perhaps--but fear nothing; a higher power has
+forestalled this. Perhaps. I cannot let your father redeem his son more dearly
+than by--mine.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am astounded! You give me to understand that----</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That my son is your father's prisoner, as you are mine.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your son my father's prisoner? Your Polytimet? Since when?
+How? Where?</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Fate willed it thus! From equal scales it took equal weights
+at the same time, and the scales are balanced still.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You wish to know more details. Polytimet led the very
+squadron, towards which you rushed too rashly; and when your soldiers saw that
+you were lost, rage and despair gave them superhuman strength. They broke
+through the lines and all assailed the one in whom they saw the compensation for
+their loss. The end you know! Now accept a word of advice from an old soldier:
+The assault is not a race; not he who first, but he who most surely meets the
+enemy, approaches victory. Note this, too ardent prince! otherwise the future
+hero may be stifled in his earliest bud.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Strato, you vex the prince with your warning, though it be
+friendly. How gloomily he stands there!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not so. But do not mind me. In deep adoration of Providence--</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The best adoration, prince, is grateful joy! Cheer up! We
+fathers will not long withhold our sons from one another. My herald is now
+ready; he shall go and hasten the exchange. But you know that joyful tidings,
+heard from the enemy alone, have the appearance of snares. They might suspect
+that you, perchance, had died from your wound. It will be necessary, therefore,
+for you to send a trustworthy messenger to your father with the herald. Come
+with me! Choose among the prisoners one whom you hold worthy of your confidence.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You wish, then, that I shall detest myself a hundredfold? In
+each of the prisoners I shall behold myself! Spare me this embarrassment!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Parmenio must be among the prisoners. Send him to me! I will
+despatch him.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, be it so! Come, Strato! Prince, we shall see each other
+soon again!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O God! the lightning could not have struck nearer without
+destroying me entirely. Wondrous gods! The flash returns! The vapour passes off,
+and I was only stunned. My whole misery then was seeing how miserable I might
+have become--how miserable my father through me!--Now I may appear again before
+you, my father! But still with eyes cast down; though shame alone will cast them
+down, and not the burning consciousness of having drawn you down with me to
+destruction. Now I need fear nothing from you but a smiling reprimand; no silent
+grief; no curses stifled by the stronger power of paternal love----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But--yes, by
+Heavens! I am too indulgent towards myself. May I forgive myself all the errors
+which Providence seems to pardon me? Shall I not judge myself more severely than
+Providence and my father judge me? All too indulgent judges! All other sad
+results of my imprisonment the gods could annihilate; one only they could
+not--the disgrace! It is true they could wipe out that fleeting shame, which
+falls from the lips of the vulgar crowd: but not the true and lasting disgrace,
+which the inner judge, my impartial self, pronounces over me!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And how easily I
+delude myself! Does my father then lose nothing through me?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The weight which the
+capture of Polytimet must throw into the scale if I were not a prisoner--is that
+nothing? Only through me does it become nothing! Fortune would have declared for
+him for whom it should declare;--the right of my father would triumph, if
+Polytimet was prisoner and not Philotas and Polytimet!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And now--but what was
+that which I thought just now? Nay, which a god thought within me--I must follow
+it up! Let me chain thee, fleeting thought! Now I have it again! How it spreads,
+farther and farther; and now it beams throughout my soul!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What did the king say?
+Why did he wish that I myself should send a trustworthy messenger to my father?
+In order that my father should not suspect--yes, thus ran his own words--that I
+had already died, perchance, from my wounds. He thinks, then, that the affair
+would take a different aspect, if I had died already from my wound. Would it do
+so? A thousand thanks for this intelligence. A thousand thanks! Of course it is
+so. For my father would then have a prince as his prisoner, for whom he could
+make any claim; and the king, his enemy, would have the body of a captured
+prince, for which he could demand nothing; which he must have buried or burned,
+if it should not become an object of disgust to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Good! I see that!
+Consequently, if I, I the wretched prisoner, will still turn the victory into my
+father's hands--on what does it depend? on death? On nothing more? O truly--the
+man is mightier than he thinks, the man who knows how to die!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But I? I, the
+germ, the bud of a man, do I know how to die? Not the man, the grown man alone,
+knows how to die; the youth also, the boy also; or he knows nothing at all. He
+who has lived ten years has had ten years time to learn to die; and what one
+does not learn in ten years, one neither learns in twenty, in thirty, nor in
+more. All that which I might have been, I must show by what I already am. And
+what could I, what would I be? A hero! Who is a hero? O my excellent, my absent
+father, be now wholly present in my soul! Have you not taught me that a hero is
+a man who knows higher goods than life? A man who has devoted his life to the
+welfare of the state; himself, the single one, to the welfare of the many? A
+hero is a man--a man? Then not a youth, my father? Curious question! It is good
+that my father did not hear it. He would have to think that I should be pleased,
+if he answered &quot;No&quot; to it. How old must the pine-tree be which has to serve as a
+mast? How old?--It must be tall enough, and must be strong enough.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Each thing,
+said the sage who taught me, is perfect if it can fulfil its end. I can fulfil
+my end, I can die for the welfare of the state; I am therefore perfect, I am a
+man. A man! although but a few days ago I was still a boy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What fire rages in my
+veins? What inspiration falls on me? The breast becomes too narrow for the
+heart! Patience, my heart! Soon will I give thee space! Soon will I release thee
+from thy monotonous and tedious task! Soon shalt thou rest, and rest for long!
+Who comes? It is Parmenio! Quick! I must decide! What must I say to him? What
+message must I send my father through him?--Right! that I must say, that message
+I must send.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Parmenio. Philotas</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Approach, Parmenio! Well? Why so shy--so full of shame? Of
+whom are you ashamed? Of yourself or of me?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Of both of us, prince!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Speak always as you think! Truly, Parmenio, neither of us can
+be good for much, since we are here. Have you already heard my story?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And when you heard it?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I pitied you, I admired you, I cursed you; I do not know
+myself what I did.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, yes! But now that you have also learned, as I suppose,
+that the misfortune is not so great since Polytimet immediately afterwards
+was----</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, now; now I could almost laugh! I find that Fate often
+stretches its arm to terrible length to deal a trifling blow. One might think it
+wished to crush us, and it has after all done nothing but killed a fly upon our
+forehead.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To the point. I am to send you to my father with the king's
+herald.</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Good! Your imprisonment will then plead for mine. Without the
+good news which I shall bring him from you, and which is well worth a friendly
+look, I should have had to promise myself rather a frosty one from him.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, honest Parmenio; in earnest now! My father knows that the
+enemy carried you from the battle-field bleeding and half dead. Let him boast
+who will. He whom approaching death has already disarmed is easily taken
+captive. How many wounds have you now, old warrior?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O, I could cite a long list of them once. But now I have
+shortened it a good deal.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How so?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! I do not any more count the limbs on which I am wounded;
+to save time and breath I count those which still are whole. Trifles after all!
+For what else has one bones, but that the enemy's iron should notch itself upon
+them?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That is bold! But now--what will you say to my father?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What I see: that you are well. For your wound, if I have heard
+the truth----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is as good as none.</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A sweet little keepsake. Such as an ardent maid nips in our
+cheek. Is it not, prince?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do I know of that?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, well, time brings experience! Further I will tell your
+father what I believe you wish----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And what is that?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To be with him again as soon as possible. Your childlike
+longing, your anxious impatience----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why not home-sickness at once! Knave! Wait and I will teach
+you to think differently.</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">By Heavens you must not! My dear youthful hero, let me tell
+you, you are still a child! Do not let the rough soldier so soon stifle in you
+the loving child! Or else one might not put the best construction on your heart;
+one might take your valour for inborn ferocity. I also am a father, father of an
+only son, who is but a little older than you, who with equal ardour--But you
+know him!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I know him. He promises everything that his father has
+accomplished.</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But if I knew that the young rogue did not long for his father
+at every moment when service leaves him free, and did not long for him as the
+lamb longs for its dam, I should wish--you see--that I had not begotten him. At
+present he must love more than respect me. I shall soon enough have to content
+myself with the respect, when nature guides the stream of his affection in
+another channel; when he himself becomes a father. Do not grow angry, prince!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who can grow angry with you? You are right! Tell my father
+everything which you think a loving son should say to him at such a time. Excuse
+my youthful rashness, which has almost brought him and his empire to
+destruction. Beg him to forgive my fault. Assure him that I shall never again
+remind him of it by a similar fault; that I will do everything that he too may
+be able to forget it. Entreat him----</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Leave it to me! Such things we soldiers can say well. And
+better than a learned orator, for we say it more sincerely. Leave it to me! I
+know it all already. Farewell, prince! I hasten----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Stop!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well? What means this serious air which you suddenly assume?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The son has done with you, but not yet the prince. The one had
+to feel; the other has to think! How willingly would the son be again with his
+father,--his beloved father--this very moment--sooner than were possible; but
+the prince, the prince cannot.--Listen!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince cannot?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And will not!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Will not?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Listen!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am surprised!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I say, you shall listen and not be surprised. Listen!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am surprised, because I listen. It has lightened, and I
+expect the thunderbolt. Speak!--But, young prince, no second rashness!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, soldier, no subtilising! Listen! I have my reasons for
+wishing not to be redeemed before to-morrow. Not before to-morrow! Do you hear?
+Therefore tell our king that he shall not heed the haste of our enemy's herald!
+Tell him that a certain doubt, a certain plan compelled Philotas to this delay.
+Have you understood me?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not? Traitor!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Softly, prince! A parrot does not understand, but he yet
+recollects what one says to him. Fear not! I will repeat everything to your
+father that I hear from you.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! I forbade you to subtilise; and that puts you out of
+humour. But how is it that you are so spoiled? Do all your generals inform you
+of their reasons?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">All, prince!--Except the young ones.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Excellent! Parmenio, if I were so sensitive as you----</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And yet he only to whom experience has given twofold sight can
+command my blind obedience.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then I shall soon have to ask your pardon. Well, I ask your
+pardon, Parmenio! Do not grumble, old man! Be kind again, old father! You are
+indeed wiser than I am. But not the wisest only have the best ideas. Good ideas
+are gifts of fortune, and good fortune, as you well know, often gives to the
+youth rather than to the old man. For Fortune is blind. Blind, Parmenio! Stone
+blind to all merit. If it were not so, would you not have been a general long
+ago?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How you know how to flatter, prince! But in confidence,
+beloved prince, do you not wish to bribe me--to bribe me with flatteries?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I flatter? And bribe you? You are the man indeed whom one
+could bribe!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you continue thus, I may become so. Already I no longer
+thoroughly trust myself.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What was it I was saying? One of those good ideas, which
+fortune often throws into the silliest brain, I too have seized--merely seized,
+not the slightest portion of it is my own. For if my reason,--my invention had
+some part in it, should I not wish to consult with you about it? But this I
+cannot do; it vanishes, if I impart it; so tender, so delicate is it, that I do
+not venture to clothe it in words. I conceive it only, as the philosopher has
+taught me to conceive God, and at the most I could only tell you what it is not.
+It is possible enough that it is in reality a childish thought; a thought which
+I consider happy, because I have not yet had a happier. But let that be; if it
+can do no good, it can at least do no harm. That I know for certain; it is the
+most harmless idea in the world; as harmless as--as a prayer! Would you cease to
+pray because you are not quite certain whether the prayer will be of use to you?
+Do not then spoil my pleasure, Parmenio, honest Parmenio! I beg you, I embrace
+you. If you love me but a very little--will you? Can I rely on you? Will you
+manage that I am not exchanged before to-morrow? Will you?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Will? Must I not? Must I not? Listen, prince; when you shall
+one day be king, do not give commands. To command is an unsure means of being
+obeyed. If you have a heavy duty to impose on anyone, do with him as you have
+just now done with me; and if he then refuses his obedience--Impossible! He
+cannot refuse it to you. I too must know what a man can refuse.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What obedience? What has the kindness which you show me to do
+with obedience? Will you, my friend----</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Stop! Stop! You have won me quite already. Yes! I will do
+everything. I will, I will tell your father, that he shall not exchange you
+until to-morrow. But why only to-morrow? I do not know! That I need not know.
+That he need not know either. Enough that I know you wish it. And I wish
+everything that you wish. Do you wish nothing else? Is there nothing else that I
+shall do? Shall I run through the fire for you? Shall I cast myself from a rock
+for you? Command only, my dear young friend, command! I will do everything now
+for you. Even say a word and I will commit a crime, an act of villainy for you!
+My blood, it is true, curdles; but still, prince, if you wish, I will--I
+will----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O my best, my fiery friend! O how shall I call you? You
+creator of my future fame! I swear to you by everything that is sacred to me, by
+my father's honour, by the fortune of his arms, by the welfare of his land--I
+swear to you never in my life to forget this your readiness, your zeal! Would
+that I also could reward it sufficiently! Hear, ye gods, my oath! And now,
+Parmenio, swear too! Swear to keep your promise faithfully!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I swear? I am too old for swearing.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And I too young to trust you without an oath. Swear to me! I
+have sworn to you by my father, swear you by your son. You love your son? You
+love him from your heart?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">From my heart, as I love you! You wish it, and I swear. I
+swear to you by my only son, by my blood which flows in his veins, by the blood
+which I would willingly have shed for your father's sake, and which he will also
+willingly shed some future day for yours--by this blood I swear to you to keep
+my word. And if I do not keep it, may my son fall in his first battle, and never
+live to see the glorious days of your reign! Hear, ye gods, my oath!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hear him not yet, ye gods! You will make fun of me, old man!
+To fall in the first battle--not to live to see my reign; is that a misfortune?
+Is it a misfortune to die early?</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not say that. Yet only to see you on the throne, to serve
+you, I should like--what otherwise I should not wish at all--to become young
+again. Your father is good; but you will be better than he.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No praise that slights my father! Alter your oath! Come, alter
+it like this. If you do not keep your word, let your son become a coward, a
+scoundrel; in the choice between death and disgrace, let him choose the latter;
+let him live ninety years the laughing-stock of women, and even die unwillingly
+in his ninetieth year.</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I shudder, but I swear. Let him do so. Hear the most terrible
+of oaths, ye gods!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hear it! Well, you can go, Parmenio! We have detained each
+other long enough, and almost made too much ado about a trifle. For is it not a
+very trifle to tell my father--to persuade him not to exchange us until
+tomorrow? And if he should wish to know the reason--well, then invent a reason
+on your way!</p>
+
+<h3>PARMENIO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That, too, I'll do. Yet I have never, though I am so old,
+devised a lie. But for your sake, prince--Leave it to me. Wickedness may still
+be learned even in old age. Farewell!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Embrace me! Go!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There are said to be so many rogues in the world, and yet
+deceiving is so hard, even when done with the best intentions. Had I not to turn
+and twist myself! Only see, good Parmenio, that my father does not exchange us
+before to-morrow, and he shall not need to exchange us at all. Now I have gained
+time enough! Time enough to strengthen myself in my purpose--time enough to
+choose the surest means. To strengthen myself in my purpose! Woe to me if I need
+that! Firmness of age, if thou art not mine, then obstinacy of youth, stand thou
+by me!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, it is resolved! It is firmly resolved! I feel that I grow calm--I am
+calm! Thou who standest there, Philotas (<i>surveying himself</i>)--Ha! It must
+be a glorious, a grand sight; a youth stretched on the ground, the sword in his
+breast! The sword? Gods! O unhappy wretch that I am. And now only do I become
+aware of it! I have no sword; I have not anything! It became the booty of the
+warrior who made me prisoner. Perhaps he would have left it me, but the hilt was
+of gold. Accursed gold! art thou then always the ruin of virtue?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">No sword? I no
+sword? Gods, merciful gods, grant me this one thing! Mighty gods, ye who have
+created heaven and earth, ye could not create a sword for me, if ye wished to do
+so? What is now my grand and glorious design? I become a bitter cause of
+laughter to myself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And there the king comes back already! Stop! Suppose I
+played the child? This idea is promising. Yes, perhaps I may succeed.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Aridäus. Philotas</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The messengers have now gone, my prince! They have started on
+their swiftest horses, and your father's camp is so near at hand, that we can
+receive a reply in a few hours.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are then very impatient, king, to embrace your son once
+more?</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Will your father be less so to press you to his heart again?
+But let me enjoy your company, dearest prince! The time will speed more quickly
+in it, and perhaps in other respects it may also have good results, if we become
+more intimately acquainted with each other. Often already have loving children
+been the mediators of their angry fathers. Follow me therefore to my tent, where
+the greatest of my generals await you! They burn with the desire to see you, and
+offer you their admiration.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Men must not admire a child, king! Leave me here, therefore, I
+pray! Shame and vexation would make me play a very foolish part. And as to your
+conversation with me, I do not see at all what good could come of it. I know
+nothing else, but that you and my father are involved in war; and the right--the
+right, I think, is on my father's side. This I believe, king! and will believe,
+even though you could prove the reverse indisputably. I am a son and a soldier,
+and have no other opinion than that of my father and my general.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince! it shows a great intelligence thus to deny one's
+intelligence. Yet I am sorry that I shall not ever be able to justify myself
+before you. Accursed war!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, truly, an accursed war! And woe to him who caused it.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince! prince! remember that it was your father who first
+drew the sword. I do not wish to join in your curses. He was rash, he was too
+suspicious.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, my father drew the first sword. But does the
+conflagration only take its rise when the bright flame already breaks through
+the roof? Where is the patient, quiet creature, devoid of all feeling, which
+cannot be embittered through incessant irritations? Consider--for you compel me
+to speak of things of which I have no right to speak--consider what a proud and
+scornful answer you sent him when he--but you shall not compel me; I will not
+speak of it! Our guilt and our innocence are liable to endless
+misinterpretations, endless excuses. Only to the undeceived eye of the gods do
+we appear as we are; they alone can judge us. But the gods, you know it, king,
+speak their verdict through the sword of the bravest. Let us therefore wait to
+hear their bloody sentence. Why shall we turn in cowardice from this highest of
+judgments to a lower? Are our arms already so weary that the pliant tongue must
+take their place?</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I hear with astonishment----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah! a woman, too, may be listened to with astonishment.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With astonishment, prince, and not without grief. Fate has
+destined you for the throne! To you it will confide the welfare of a mighty and
+noble nation; to you! What dreadful future reveals itself to me! You will
+overwhelm your people with laurels,--and with misery. You will count more
+victories than happy subjects. Well for me, that my days will not reach into
+yours! But woe to my son, to my honest son! You will scarcely allow him to lay
+aside his armour----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Comfort the father, O king! I shall allow your son far
+more!--far more!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Far more? Explain yourself.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Have I spoken a riddle? O do not ask, king, that a youth, such
+as I am, shall always speak with caution and design. I only wished to say the
+fruit is often very different from what the blossom promises. An effeminate
+prince, history has taught me, has often proved a warlike king. Could not the
+reverse occur with me? Or perhaps the meaning of what I said was that I had
+still a long and dangerous way to the throne. Who knows if the gods will allow
+me to accomplish it? And do not let me accomplish it, father of gods and men, if
+in the future thou seest in me a waster of the most precious gift which thou
+hast entrusted to me,--the blood of my subjects!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, prince; what is a king, if he be not a father? What is a
+hero void of human love? Now I recognise this also in you, and am your friend
+again! But come, come; we must not remain alone here! We are too serious for one
+another. Follow me!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon, king----</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not refuse!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus, as I am, shall I show myself to many eyes?</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why not?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I cannot, king, I cannot!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And the reason?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O, the reason! It would make you laugh.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So much the better,--let me hear it! I am a human being, and
+like to laugh and cry.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, laugh then! See, king, I have no sword, and should not
+like to appear amongst soldiers without this mark of the soldier.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My laughing turns to joy! I have thought of that beforehand,
+and your wish will be gratified at once. Strato has the order to get your sword
+again for you.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let us then await him here!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And then you will accompany me?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then I will follow you immediately.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">As we willed it! There he comes! Well, Strato!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Strato</span> (<i>with a sword in his hand</i>), <span class="sc">
+Aridäus, Philotas</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">King! I came to the soldier who had taken the prince and
+demanded the prince's sword from him in your name. But hear how nobly the
+soldier refused! &quot;The king,&quot; he said, &quot;must not take the sword from me! It is a
+good sword, and I shall use it in his service. I must also keep a remembrance of
+this deed. By the gods, it was none of my least! The prince is a young demon.
+But perhaps you wish only the precious hilt!&quot; And on this, before I could
+prevent it, his strong hand had broken off the hilt, and throwing it
+contemptuously before my feet--&quot;There it is,&quot; he continued, &quot;what care I for
+your gold?&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O Strato, make good for me what this man has done!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have done so. And here is one of your swords!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Give it me! Will you accept it, prince, instead of yours?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let me see! Ha! (<i>aside</i>.) Be thanked, ye gods! (<i>eyeing
+it long and earnestly</i>). A sword!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Have I not chosen well, prince?</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you find in it so worthy of your deep attention?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That it is a sword!--(<i>recovering himself</i>.) And a
+beautiful sword! I shall not lose anything by this exchange. A sword!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You tremble, prince!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With joy! It seems, however, a trifle short for me. But why
+short? A step nearer to the enemy replaces what is wanting in the steel. Beloved
+sword! What a beautiful thing is a sword,--to play with and to use! I have never
+played with anything else.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to </i><span class="sc">Strato</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O the wondrous combination of child and hero!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Beloved sword! Could I but be alone with thee! But, courage!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Now gird on the sword, prince, and follow me!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Directly! Yet one must not know one's friend and one's sword
+only outwardly (<i>he draws it, and </i><span class="sc">Strato </span><i>steps between him and the king</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I understand the steel better than the workmanship. Believe
+me, prince, the steel is good. The king has cleft more than one helmet with it
+since his youth.</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I shall never grow so strong as that! But--Do not step so
+near, Strato!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why not?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So! (<i>springing back and swinging the sword through the air</i>).
+It has the right swing.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince, spare your wounded arm! You will excite yourself!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Of what do you remind me, king? Of my misfortune--no, of my
+shame! I was wounded and made prisoner. Yes, but I shall never be so again! By
+this my sword, I shall never be so again! No, my father, no! To-day a wonder
+spares you the shameful ransom of your son; his death may spare it you in the
+future!--His certain death, when he shall see himself surrounded again!
+Surrounded again? Horrible! I am so! I am surrounded! What now? Companions!
+Friends! Brothers! Where are you? All dead? Enemies everywhere! Through here,
+Philotas! Ha! That is for you, rash fellow!--And that for you!--And that for
+you! (<i>striking around him</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince! what ails you? Calm yourself (<i>approaches him</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>stepping away from him</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You too, Strato? You too? O, foe, be generous! Kill me! Do not
+make me captive! No, I do not deliver myself up! Were you all, who surround me,
+Stratos, yet I will defend myself against you all--against a world will I defend
+myself! Do your best, my foes! But you will not? You will not kill me, cruel
+men? You only wish to have me alive? I laugh at you! To take me prisoner alive?
+Me? Sooner shall this sword--this sword--shall pierce this
+breast--sooner--before--(<i>he stabs himself</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">God! Strato!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">King!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I wished it thus! (<i>sinking back</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hold him, Strato! Help! help for the prince! Prince, what
+raving anguish----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Forgive me, king! I have dealt you a more deadly blow than
+myself! I die, and soon will peaceful lands enjoy the fruit of my death. Your
+son, king, is a prisoner, and the son of my father is free!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do I hear?</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then it was your purpose, prince? But as our prisoner, you had
+no right over yourself!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do not say that, Strato! Should a man be able to fetter
+another's liberty to die, the liberty which the gods have left in all
+vicissitudes of life?</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O king! Terror has paralyzed him! King!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who calls me?</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">King!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be silent!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The war is over, king!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Over? You lie, Strato! The war is not over, prince! Die! yes,
+die! But carry with you this tormenting thought! You believed, as a true
+ignorant boy, that fathers were all of one and the same mould,--all of the soft,
+effeminate nature of your father. They are not all like him! I am not so! What
+do I care about my son? And do you think that he cannot die as well for his
+father as you did for yours? Let him die! Let his death too spare me the
+disgraceful ransom! Strato, I am bereft now, I poor man! You have a son;--he
+shall be mine. For a son one must have! Happy Strato!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your son too lives still, king! And will live! I hear it!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Does he live still? Then I must have him back. But you--die! I
+will have him back, let what will come of it. And in exchange for you! Or I will
+have such disgrace and dishonour shown to your body--I will have it----</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The dead body!--If you will revenge yourself, king, awaken it
+again!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah! What do I say?</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I pity you! Farewell, Strato! There, where all virtuous
+friends and all brave men are members of one blessed state--in Elysium we shall
+meet again! We also, king, shall meet again.</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And reconciled! Prince!</p>
+
+<h3>PHILOTAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">O then, ye gods, receive my triumphant soul; and thou, goddess
+of peace, thy offering!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hear me, prince!</p>
+
+<h3>STRATO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He dies! Am I traitor, king, if I weep over your enemy? I
+cannot restrain myself. A wondrous youth!</p>
+
+<h3>ARIDÄUS.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Weep over him, weep! And I too! Come! I must have my son
+again. But do not oppose me, if I pay too high a ransom for him! In vain have we
+shed our streams of blood, in vain have we conquered lands. There he departs
+with our booty, the greater victor!--Come! Get me my son! And when I have him, I
+will no more be king. Do ye believe, ye men, that one does not grow weary of it?
+(<i>Exeunt</i>.)
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<h1><a name="div1Ref_Emilia" href="#div1_Emilia">EMILIA GALOTTI.</a></h1>
+
+<h2>A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Translated by B. Dillon Boylan</i>.)</p>
+
+<hr class="W20">
+
+
+<p class="normal">'Emilia Galotti' was commenced in 1757, when Lessing was at
+Leipzig, but was thrown aside for some years, until in 1767, when at Hamburg, he
+again took it up, intending to have it represented on the Hamburg stage. But on
+the failure of the theatrical enterprise with which he was connected, he once
+more abandoned it until 1771, when he again turned his attention to it, and
+completed it in February of the following year. It was immediately represented
+on the Brunswick stage.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONĈ.</h2>
+<table cellpadding="10" style="width:60%; margin-left:20%">
+<colgroup><col style="width:40%"><col style="width:5%"><col style="width:55%"></colgroup>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Emilia Galotti</span>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>and </i><br>
+<span class="sc">Claudia Galotti</span>,</td>
+<td><span style="font-size:24pt">}</span></td>
+<td><i>parents of </i><span class="sc">Emilia</span>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Hettore Gonzaga</span>,
+<i>Prince of Guastalla</i>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>, <i>the Prince's Chamberlain</i>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Camillo Rota</span>, <i>one of the Prince's Councillors</i>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Conti</span>, <i>an artist</i>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Count Appiani</span>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Angelo</span>, <i>a bandit</i>.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="3"><span class="sc">Pirro </span><i>and sundry servants</i>.</td>
+</tr></table>
+
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h1>EMILIA GALOTTI.</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT I.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>The Prince's Cabinet</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Prince</span>, <i>
+seated at a desk, which is covered with papers</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Complaints; nothing but complaints! Petitions; nothing but
+petitions! Wretched employment! And yet we are envied! To be sure, if we could
+relieve every one, we might indeed be envied. Emilia? (<i>opening a petition,
+and looking at the signature</i>.) An Emilia? Yes--but an Emilia Bruneschi--not
+Galotti. Not Emilia Galotti. What does she want, this Emilia Bruneschi? (<i>Reads</i>)
+She asks much--too much. But her name is Emilia. It is granted (<i>signs the
+paper, and rings</i>).
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter a </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Are any of the Councillors in the antechamber?</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, your Highness.
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have begun the day too early. The morning is so beautiful, I
+will take a drive. The Marquis Marinelli shall accompany me. Let him be called.
+(<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>.) I can attend to nothing more. I was so happy--delightful
+thought! so happy--when all at once this wretched Bruneschi must be named
+Emilia. Now all my peace is fled.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Re-enter the </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>, <i>
+bringing a note</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Marquis has been sent for; and here is a letter from the
+Countess Orsina.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess Orsina? Put it down.</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Her courier waits.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will send an answer if necessary. Where is she, in town, or
+at her villa?</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She arrived in town yesterday.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So much the worse--the better, I mean. There is less reason
+for the messenger to wait. (<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>.) My dear Countess! (<i>with
+sarcasm, as he takes up the letter</i>) as good as read (<i>throwing it down
+again</i>). Well, well, I fancied I loved her--one may fancy anything. It may be
+that I really did love her. But--I did.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Re-enter </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The painter Conti requests the honour----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Conti? Good! admit him. That will change the current of my
+thoughts (<i>rising</i>).</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Conti</span>, <i>The </i><span class="sc">
+Prince</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Good morning, Conti. How goes it with you? How does art
+thrive?</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Art is starving, Prince.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That must not--shall not be, within the limits of my small
+dominions. But the artist must be willing to work.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Work! that is his happiness. But too much work may rain his
+claim to the title of artist.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not mean that his works should be many, but his labour
+much: a little, but well done. But you do not come empty-handed, Conti?</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have brought the portrait which your Highness ordered; and
+another which you did not order; but as it is worthy of inspection----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That one, is it? And yet I do not well remember----</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess Orsina.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">True. The commission, however, was given rather long ago.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Our beauties are not every day at the artist's command. In
+three months, the Countess could only make up her mind to sit once.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Where are the pictures?</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In the antechamber. I will fetch them (<i>exit</i>).</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Her portrait! Let it come; it is not herself. But perhaps I
+may see in the picture what I can no longer find in her person. But I have no
+wish to make such a discovery. The importunate painter! I almost believe that
+she has bribed him. But even were it so, if another picture which is pourtrayed
+in brighter colours and on a different canvas, could be obliterated to make room
+for her once more in my heart, I really think that I should be content. When I
+loved the Countess, I was ever gay, sprightly, and cheerful; now I am the
+reverse. But no, no, no; happy or unhappy, it is better as it is.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Prince, Conti</span>, <i>with the
+portraits; he places one with the face reversed against a chair, and prepares to
+show the other</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I beg your Highness will bear in mind the limits of our art;
+much of the highest perfection of beauty lies altogether beyond its limits. Look
+at it in this position.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after a brief inspection</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Excellent! Conti, most excellent! It does credit to your
+taste,--to your skill. But flattered, Conti--quite, infinitely flattered!</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The original did not seem to be of your opinion. But, in
+truth, she is not more flattered than art is bound to flatter. It is the
+province of art to paint as plastic nature--if there is such a thing--intended
+her original design, without the defects which the unmanageable materials render
+inevitable, and free from the ravages which result from a conflict with time.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The intelligent artist has therefore double merit. But the
+original, you say, notwithstanding all this----</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon me, Prince! The original is a person who commands my
+respect. I did not intend to insinuate anything to her disadvantage.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">As much as you please. But what said the original?</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am satisfied,&quot; said the Countess, &quot;if I am not plainer.&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not plainer! The original herself!</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And she uttered this with an expression of which the portrait
+affords no trace, no idea.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That is just what I meant; therein lies your infinite
+flattery. Oh! I know well her proud, contemptuous look, which would disfigure
+the face of one of the Graces. I do not deny that a handsome mouth set off with
+a slight curl of scorn, sometimes acquires thereby additional beauty. But,
+observe, it must be only slight; the look must not amount to grimace, as it does
+with this Countess. The eyes, too, must keep control over the disdainful
+charmer; eyes which the worthy Countess decidedly does not possess. You do not
+even give them to her in the picture.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your Highness, I am perfectly amazed.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And wherefore? All that could be achieved by the resources of
+art out of the great prominent staring Medusa eyes of the Countess, you have
+honourably accomplished. Honourably, I say, but less honourably would have been
+more honest; for tell me yourself, Conti, is the character of the individual
+expressed by this picture? yet it should be. You have converted pride into
+dignity, disdain into a smile, and the gloom of discontent into soft melancholy.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>somewhat vexed</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah! Prince, we painters expect that a portrait when finished
+will find the lover as warm as when he ordered it. We paint with eyes of love,
+and the eyes of love alone must judge our works.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">'Tis true, Conti; but why did you not bring it a month sooner?
+Lay it aside. What is the other?</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>taking it up and holding it still reversed</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is also a female portrait.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then I had almost rather not see it; for the ideal depicted
+here (<i>pointing to his forehead</i>), or rather here (<i>laying his hand upon
+his heart</i>), it cannot equal. I should like, Conti, to admire your art in
+other subjects.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There may be more admirable examples of art, but a more
+admirable subject than this cannot exist.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then I'll lay a wager, Conti, that it is the portrait of the
+artist's own mistress. (<span class="sc">Conti </span><i>turns the picture</i>.) What do I see? Your
+work, Conti, or the work of my fancy? Emilia Galotti!</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How, Prince! do you know this angel?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>endeavouring to compose himself, but unable to remove his eyes
+from the picture</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A little; just enough to recognise her. A few weeks ago I met
+her with her mother at an assembly; since then I have only seen her in sacred
+places, where staring is unseemly. I know her father also; he is not my friend.
+He it was who most violently opposed my pretensions to Sabionetta. He is a
+veteran, proud and unpolished, but upright and brave.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You speak of the father, this is the daughter.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">By Heavens! you must have stolen the resemblance from her
+mirror (<i>with his eyes still rivetted on the picture</i>). Oh, you well know,
+Conti, that we praise the artist most when we forget his merits in his works.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet I am extremely dissatisfied with this portrait, and
+nevertheless I am satisfied with being dissatisfied with myself. Alas! that we
+cannot paint directly with our eyes! On the long journey from the eye through
+the arm to the pencil, how much is lost! But, as I have already said, though I
+know what is lost, and how and why it is lost, I am as proud and prouder of this
+loss than of what I have preserved. For by the former I perceive more than by
+the latter, that I am a good painter, though my hand is not always so. Or do you
+hold, Prince, that Raffaelle would not have been the greatest of all artists
+even had he unfortunately been born without hands?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>turning his eyes a moment from the picture</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you say, Conti? What was your enquiry?</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, nothing--nothing; mere idle observations! Your soul, I
+observe, was wholly in your eyes. I like such souls and such eyes.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>affecting coldness</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And so, Conti, you really consider Emilia Galotti amongst the
+first beauties of our city.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Amongst them? Amongst the first? The first of our city? You
+jest, Prince, or your eyesight must have been all this time as insensible as
+your hearing.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dear Conti (<i>again fixing his eyes on the picture</i>), how
+can we uninitiated trust our eyes? In fact, none but an artist can judge of
+beauty.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And must the feeling of every person wait for the decision of
+a painter? To a cloister with him who would learn from us what is beautiful! But
+this much I must own to you, as a painter, Prince. It is one of the greatest
+delights of my life that Emilia Galotti has sat to me. This head, this
+countenance, this forehead, these eyes, this nose, this mouth, this chin, this
+neck, this bosom, this shape, this whole form, are from the present time forward
+my only model of female beauty. The original picture for which she sat, is in
+the possession of her absent father. But this copy----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>turning to him quickly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, Conti--is not surely bespoke already?</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is for you, Prince, if it affords you any pleasure.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pleasure! (<i>smiling</i>.) How can I do better than make your
+model of female beauty my own? There, take back that other portrait, and order a
+frame for it.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Good.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">As rich and splendid as the carver can possibly make it. It
+shall be placed in the gallery. But this must remain here. A study need not be
+treated with so much ceremony; one does not hang it up for display. It should
+always be at hand. I thank you, Conti, cordially. And as I said before, the arts
+shall never starve in my dominions, as long as I have bread. Send to my
+treasurer, Conti, and let him pay your own price for both pictures; as much as
+you please, Conti.</p>
+
+<h3>CONTI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I must begin to fear, Prince, that you mean to reward me for
+something else besides my art?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh the jealousy of an artist! No, no! But remember, Conti, as
+much as you please.<span style="letter-spacing:2em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>(<i>Exit </i>
+<span class="sc">Conti</span>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Prince</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, as much as he pleases. (<i>Turning to the picture</i>.)
+Thou art mine, too cheap at any price. Oh, thou enchanting work of art! Do I
+then possess thee? But who shall possess thyself, thou still more beautiful
+masterpiece of nature? Claim what you will, honest old mother; ask what you
+will, morose old father. Demand any price. Yet, dear enchantress, I should be
+far more happy to buy thee from thyself! This eye! how full of love and modesty!
+This mouth! when it speaks, when it smiles! This mouth!--Some one comes.--I am
+still too jealous of thee. (<i>Turning the picture to the wall</i>.) It is
+Marinelli. I wish I had not sent for him! What a morning might I have had!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>, <i>The </i><span class="sc">
+Prince</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your Highness will pardon me; I was not prepared for so early
+a summons.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I felt an inclination to drive out, the morning was so fine.
+But now it is almost over, and my inclination has subsided. (<i>After a short
+pause</i>). Any news, Marinelli?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing of importance that I know. The Countess Orsina arrived
+in town yesterday.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, here lies her morning salutation (<i>pointing to the
+letter</i>), or whatever it may be. I am not inquisitive about it. Have you seen
+her?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Am I not unfortunately her confidant? But if ever I am so
+again with a lady who takes it into her head to love you desperately, Prince,
+may I----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No rash vows, Marinelli.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed, Prince! Is it possible? The Countess, then, is not so
+utterly mistaken.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Quite mistaken, certainly. My approaching union with the
+Princess of Massa compels me in the first place to break off all such
+connections.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If that were all, the Countess would doubtless know as well
+how to submit to her fate, as the Prince to his.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My fate is harder far than hers. My heart is sacrificed to a
+miserable political consideration. She has but to take back hers, and need not
+bestow it against her inclination.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Take it back! &quot;Why take it back,&quot; asks the Countess, &quot;for a
+wife, whom policy and not love attaches to the Prince?&quot; With a wife of that kind
+the mistress may still hold her place. It is not, therefore, for a wife that she
+dreads being sacrificed, but----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Perhaps another mistress. What then? would you make a crime of
+that, Marinelli?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I, Prince? Oh, confound me not with the foolish woman whose
+cause I advocate--from pity! For yesterday I own she greatly moved me. She
+wished not to mention her attachment to you, and strove to appear cold and
+tranquil. But in the midst of the most indifferent topics, some expression, some
+allusion, escaped her, which betrayed her tortured heart. With the most cheerful
+demeanour she said the most melancholy things, and on the other hand uttered the
+most laughable jests with an air of deep distress. She has taken to books for
+refuge, which I fear will be her ruin.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, for books gave the first blow to her poor understanding.
+And, Marinelli, you will scarcely employ for the purpose of renewing my
+attachment, that which was the chief cause of our separation. If love renders
+her foolish, she would sooner or later have become so, even without such
+influence. But enough of her! To something else. Is there nothing new in town?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Next to nothing; for that Count Appiani will be married to-day
+is little better than nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Count Appiani! To whom? I have not heard that he is engaged.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The affair has been kept a profound secret. And indeed, there
+was not much to create a sensation. You will smile, Prince; but it ever happens
+so with sentimental youths! Love always plays the worst of tricks. A girl
+without fortune or rank has managed to catch him in her snares, without any
+trouble, but with a little display of virtue, sensibility, wit, and so forth.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The man who can wholly resign himself to the impressions which
+innocence and beauty make upon him is, in my opinion, rather to be envied than
+derided. And what is the name of the happy fair one? For though I well know,
+Marinelli, that you and Appiani dislike each other, he is nevertheless a very
+worthy young man, a handsome man, a rich man, and an honourable man. I should
+like to be able to attach him to myself.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If it be not too late; for, as far as I can learn, it is not
+his intention to seek his fortune at court. He will retire with his spouse to
+his native valleys of Piedmont, and indulge himself in hunting chamois or
+training marmots upon the Alps. What can he do better? Here his prospects are
+blighted by the connection he has formed. The first circles are closed against
+him.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The first circles! What are they worth, mere resorts of
+ceremony, restraint, ennui, and poverty? But how call you the fair being who is
+the cause of all these wondrous sacrifices?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A certain--Emilia Galotti?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What! Marinelli! a certain----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Emilia Calotti.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Emilia Galotti? Never!----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Assuredly, your Highness.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But no, I say. It is not, and it cannot be! You mistake the
+name. The family of Galotti is numerous. It may be a Galotti, but not Emilia
+Galotti!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Emilia--Emilia Galotti.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There must be another who bears the same names. You said,
+however, a certain Emilia Galotti,--a certain one. Of the real Emilia, none but
+a fool could so speak.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your Highness is excited. Do you know this Emilia?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is my place to question, not yours, Marinelli. Is she the
+daughter of Colonel Galotti, who resides at Sabionetta?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The same.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who lives here in Guastalla with her mother.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The same.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Near the church of All-Saints.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The same.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In a word (<i>turning hastily to the portrait, and giving it
+to </i>
+<span class="sc">Marinelli</span>)--there! is it this Emilia Galotti? Pronounce again those damning
+words, &quot;the same,&quot; and plunge a dagger in my heart.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The same.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Traitor! This? this Emilia Galotti--will to-day be----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess Appiani. (<i>The </i><span class="sc">Prince </span><i>seizes the
+portrait from the hands of </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>, <i>and flings it aside</i>.)--The
+marriage will be celebrated privately at her father's villa, in Sabionetta.
+About noon the mother and daughter, the Count, and perhaps a few friends, will
+leave town together.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>throwing himself in a state of desperation into a chair</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then I am lost, and care no more for life.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What thus affects your Highness?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>starting towards him again</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Traitor! what affects me thus? Yes, in truth, I love her! I
+adore her! You may, perhaps, know it, may even long have known it; all of you
+who desire that I should wear for ever the ignominious fetters of the proud
+Orsina. That you, Marinelli, who have so often assured me of your sincere
+friendship--but a Prince has no friend, can have no friend--that you should act
+so treacherously, so deceitfully, as to conceal till this moment the peril which
+threatened my love.--Oh, if ever I forgive you this, let no sin of mine be
+pardoned!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I could scarcely find words, Prince, to express my
+astonishment--even if you gave me the opportunity. You love Emilia Galotti?
+Hear, then, my oath in reply to yours. If I have ever known or suspected this
+attachment in the slightest degree, may the angels and saints abandon me! I
+repeat the same imprecation for Orsina. Her suspicions were directed to a wholly
+different quarter.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon me, then, Marinelli (<i>throwing himself into his arms</i>),
+and pity me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, yes, Prince. There see the consequence of your reserve.
+&quot;A prince has no friends.&quot; And why? Because he will have none. To-day you honour
+us with your confidence, entrust to us your most secret wishes, open your whole
+soul to us--and to-morrow we are as perfect strangers to you, as if you had
+never exchanged a word with us.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas, Marinelli, how could I entrust a secret to you which I
+would scarcely confess to myself?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And, which you have, therefore, of course, not confessed to
+the author of your uneasiness?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To her!--All my endeavours have been fruitless to speak with
+her a second time.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And the first time----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I spoke to her;--Oh, my brain is turned, and must I continue
+this conversation longer? You behold me at the mercy of the waves, and why
+inquire how all this has happened? Save me if you can, and then question me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Save you! Is there much to save? What your Highness has not
+confessed to Emilia Galotti, you will confess to the Countess Appiani. Goods
+which cannot be obtained in their primitive perfection, must be bought at second
+hand, and are often, on that account, bought at a cheaper rate.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be serious, Marinelli, or----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To be sure, such articles are generally so much the worse----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For shame, Marinelli.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And the Count intends to leave this country too. Well, we must
+devise some scheme----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And what scheme? My best and dearest Marinelli, contrive
+something for me. What would you do, were you in my situation?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Above all things, I should regard a trifle as a trifle--and
+say to myself that I would not be what I am for nothing--your Highness!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Delude me not with a power of which I can, on this occasion,
+make no use. To-day, said you?--This very day?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To-day it is to take place;--but it is only things which have
+taken place that cannot be recalled. (<i>After a short pause</i>.) Prince, will
+you let me act as I please? Will you approve all I do?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Anything, Marinelli, which can avert this blow.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then let us lose no time. You must not remain in town, but go
+to your palace at Dosalo. The road to Sabionetta passes it. Should I not succeed
+in removing the Count, I think--yes, yes, he will be caught in that snare
+without doubt. You wish to send an ambassador to Massa respecting your marriage.
+Let the Count be ambassador, and order him to depart this very day.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Excellent!--Bring him to my palace.--Haste, haste!--I will
+leave town instantly. (<i>Exit</i> Marinelli.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Instantly, instantly. Where is it? (<i>Turns to the portrait</i>)
+On the ground! That was too bad. (<i>Takes it up</i>) But look! And yet I will
+look at thee no more now. Why should I plunge the arrow deeper into the wound? (<i>Lays
+it on the table</i>). I have suffered and sighed long enough--longer than I
+ought, but done nothing, and my listless inactivity had nearly ruined all.--And
+may not all yet be lost? May not Marinelli fail? Why should I rely on him
+alone?--It occurs to me that at this hour (<i>looks at his watch</i>) at this
+very hour, the pious girl daily attends mass at the church of the Dominicans.
+How, if I attempted to address her there? But to-day--the day of her
+marriage--her heart will be occupied with other things than mass. Yet, who
+knows?--'tis but a step--(<i>rings, and whilst he hastily arranges the papers on
+the table</i>)--
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="continue">My carriage!--Have none of the council arrived?</p>
+
+<h3>SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Camillo Rota waits without.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Admit him. (<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Servant</span>). But he must not attempt to
+detain me long. Not now--another time, I will attend to his scrupulous
+investigations----There was a petition of one Emilia Bruneschi--here it is--but,
+good Bruneschi, if your intercessor----</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Camillo Rota</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Come, Rota, come. There lie the papers which I have opened this morning--not
+very consoling--you will see what is to be done. Take them with you.</p>
+
+<h3>CAMILLO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will attend to them.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here is a petition from one Emilia Galot--I mean Bruneschi. I
+have already signed my consent to it--but yet the request is no trifle. You may
+defer the execution of it--or not--as you please.</p>
+
+<h3>CAMILLO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not as I please, your Highness.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What more is there--anything to sign?</p>
+
+<h3>CAMILLO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sentence of death for your Highness's signature.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With all my heart!--Where is it? Quick!</p>
+
+<h3>CAMILLO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>starts and gazes at the </i><span class="sc">Prince</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I said a death--warrant.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I understood you plain enough. It might have been done by
+this. I am in haste.</p>
+
+<h3>CAMILLO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>looking at his papers</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I really believe I have not brought it. I beg your Highness's
+forgiveness. It can be deferred till to-morrow.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be it so. Just collect these papers together. I must away. The
+rest to-morrow, Rota.</p>
+
+<h3>CAMILLO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>shaking his head, as he collects the papers</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With all my heart!&quot;--A death-warrant, with all my heart! I
+would not have let him sign at such a moment, had the criminal murdered my own
+son.--&quot;With all my heart!&quot; &quot;With all my heart&quot;--The cruel words pierce my very
+soul.<span class="space">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT II.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>A room in </i><span class="sc">Galotti's </span><i>house</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Claudia Galotti, Pirro</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who dismounted just now in the court-yard? Pirro.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My master, madam.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My husband? Is it possible?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here he comes.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So unexpectedly? (<i>hastens towards him</i>). My dearest
+lord!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Odoardo</span>, <i>and the foregoing</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Good morning, my love. Does not my arrival surprise you?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Most agreeably. But is it intended as no more than a surprise?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No more. Be not alarmed. The happiness of to-day awakened me
+early. The morning was so fine, and the ride so short, I fancied you would be so
+busy here to-day, and thought you might perhaps forget something: in a word, I
+am come to see you, and shall return immediately. Where is Emilia? Occupied with
+her dress, I have no doubt?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With her soul. She is gone to hear mass. &quot;I have need,&quot; she
+said, &quot;to-day more than at any other time to implore a blessing from above;&quot;
+then leaving all else she took her veil, and disappeared.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alone!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is but a few steps----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">One incautious step often leads to mischief.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be not angry; but come in and rest a moment, and, if you
+please, take some refreshment.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, well, as you like. But she ought not to have gone alone.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Stay here, Pirro, in the antechamber, and excuse me to all
+visitors. (<i>Exeunt </i><span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">Claudia</span>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Pirro</span>, <i>and afterwards </i><span class="sc">
+Angelo</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">All inquisitive visitors. How I have been questioned! Who
+comes here? (<i>Enter</i> Angelo, <i>in a short mantle, with which he conceals
+his face</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pirro! Pirro!</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">An acquaintance, it seems. (Angelo <i>throws back the mantle</i>).
+Heavens! Angelo. You!</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, Angelo, as you perceive. I have been wandering long
+enough round the house, in order to speak to you. One word with you----</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And dare you again appear in public? Don't you know that, in
+consequence of your last murder, you are declared an outlaw, a price has been
+put upon your head?</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You don't intend to claim it, I presume?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you want? I implore you not to involve me in
+misfortune.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In this way, you mean? (<i>Showing a purse</i>). Take it; it
+belongs to you.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To me?</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Have you forgotten? The German gentleman, your last master----</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hush!</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">----Whom you led into our clutches on the road to Pisa----</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If any one should overhear us!</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">----Had the kindness, you know, to bequeath us a valuable
+ring. Do you not remember? It was so valuable that we could not immediately
+convert it into money without suspicion. At length, however, I succeeded. I
+received a hundred pistoles for it, and this is your share. Take it.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, no! You may keep it.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, with all my heart! If you don't care at what price you
+put your head in the market.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Give it me, then (<i>takes it</i>). And now, what do you want?
+for I suppose you did not come in search of me merely for that purpose.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It seems to you not very credible. Rascal! what do you think
+of us? That we are capable of withholding any man's earnings? That may be the
+way with honest people; but we don't follow their fashions. Farewell! (<i>Affects
+to be going, but turns at the door</i>). One question I must ask. Old Galotti
+has just come hurriedly into town quite alone. What does he want?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing, merely a ride. His daughter is to be married this
+evening, at his country house, whence he has come to Count Appiani. He awaits
+the moment with impatience.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he will return soon?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So soon, that if you remain any longer he will discover you.
+But you surely have no thoughts of attacking him. Take care. He is a man----</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Don't I know him? Have I not served under him in the army; but
+nevertheless if one could only get much from him! At what time do the young
+people follow him?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Towards noon.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With many attendants?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A single carriage will contain the party--the mother, the
+daughter, and the count. A few friends from Sabionetta attend as witnesses.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And the servants?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Only two besides myself. I shall ride before.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Good. Another question. Is the carriage Galotti's or the
+Count's?</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Count's.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That is unlucky. There is another outrider, besides a
+courageous driver. However----</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am amazed. What do you intend? The few ornaments which the
+bride has will scarcely reward your trouble.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the bride herself shall be the reward.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And you mean that I should be your accomplice in this crime?</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You ride before! Then ride, ride, and take no trouble about
+the matter.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Never!</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What?--I believe the fellow means to play the
+conscientious--you rascal! I think you know me. If you utter a syllable--if
+every circumstance be not as you have described it----</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, Angelo, for Heaven's sake----</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do what you cannot avoid. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! let the devil hold thee by a single hair, and thou art his
+for ever! Wretch that I am!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Claudia Galotti, Pirro</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She stays too long.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">One moment more, Odoardo. It would distress her to miss seeing
+you.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I must wait upon the Count, too. How eager am I to call this
+worthy man my son! His conduct enchants me, and, above everything, his
+resolution to pass his days in his native valleys.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My heart almost breaks when I think of it. Must we so entirely
+lose our dear and only child!</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Can you think you have lost her, when you know she is in the
+arms of an affectionate husband? Does not her happiness make your delight? You
+almost make me again suspect that your motive for remaining with her in town,
+far from an affectionate husband and father, was the bustle and the dissipation
+of the world, and proximity of the court, rather than the necessity of giving
+our daughter a proper education.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How unjust, Odoardo! But to-day, I may be allowed to speak
+somewhat in favour of town and court, though both are so hateful to your strict
+virtue; for here alone could love have united a couple formed for each other;
+here alone could the Count have found our Emilia, and he has found her.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That I allow. But were you right, good Claudia, because the
+result has been fortunate? It is well that this court education has ended so
+happily. Let us not affect to be wise, when we have only been fortunate. It is
+well that it has ended so happily. They who were destined for each other have
+found each other. Now let them go where peace and innocence invite them. Why
+should the Count remain here? To cringe--to fawn--to flatter--to supplant the
+Marinellis--to make a fortune which he does not want--to obtain a dignity, which
+he does not value?--Pirro!</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sir!</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Lead my horse to the Count's door. I'll follow you anon, and
+mount it there. (<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Pirro</span>).--Why should the Count serve here, when he
+may command elsewhere? Besides, you do not consider, Claudia, that, by his union
+with my daughter, he is utterly ruined with the Prince? The Prince hates me----</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Less, perhaps, than you fear.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Fear! Should I fear anything so contemptible?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why, have I not already told you that the Prince has seen our
+daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince! Where?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">At the last assembly of the Chancellor Grimaldi, which he
+honoured with his presence. He conducted himself so graciously towards her----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Graciously?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes. He conversed with her for some time.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Conversed with her?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Appeared to be so delighted with her cheerfulness and good
+sense----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Delighted?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Spoke of her elegance and beauty, in terms of such
+admiration----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Admiration? And all this you relate to me in a tone of
+rapture. Oh, Claudia! vain, foolish mother!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why so?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, well. This, too, has ended happily.--Ha! when I
+think----That were exactly the point where a wound would be to me most
+deadly.--A libertine, who admires, and seduces----Claudia! Claudia! The very
+thought rouses my fury. You ought to have mentioned this to me immediately.--But
+to-day I would not willingly say anything to vex you. And I should (<i>as she
+takes him by the hand</i>), were I to stay longer. Therefore, let me begone. God
+be with you, Claudia; follow me in safety. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Claudia, Galotti</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What a man! What rigid virtue--if virtue that should be
+called, to which everything seems suspicious and culpable. If this be a
+knowledge of mankind, who would not wish to remain in ignorance? Why does Emilia
+stay so long?----He dislikes the father--consequently, if he admire the
+daughter, he must mean to bring disgrace upon him!</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Emilia </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Claudia Galotti</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>rushing in, much alarmed</i>.)</span></h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Heaven be praised! I am now in safety. Or has he even followed
+me hither? (<i>Throwing back her veil and espying her mother</i>). Has he, my
+mother, has he?--No, thank Heaven.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What has happened to you, my daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing--nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And yet you look wildly round, and tremble in every limb!</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What have I had to hear?--And where have I been forced to hear
+it?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I thought you were at church.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I was. But what are churches and altars to the vicious?--Oh,
+my mother! (<i>Throws herself into</i> Claudia's <i>arms</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Speak, my daughter, and remove my fears. What evil can have
+happened to you in so holy a place?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Never should my devotion have been more fervent and sincere
+than on this day. Never was it less what it ought to have been.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Emilia we are all human. The faculty of praying fervently is
+not always in our power; but, in the eye of Heaven, the wish to pray is accepted
+as prayer.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And our wish to sin as sin.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That my Emilia never wished.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, my mother. The grace of Heaven has preserved me from
+falling so low. But, alas! that the vice of others should render us accomplices
+in vice against our will!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Compose yourself.--Collect your thoughts as well as you can.
+Tell me at once what has happened to you.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I had just sunk upon my knees, further from the altar than
+usual--for I arrived too late. I had just begun to raise my thoughts towards
+Heaven--when some person placed himself behind me--so close behind me! I could
+neither move forwards nor aside, however much I desired it, in my fear lest the
+devotion of my neighbour might interrupt my prayers. Devotion was the worst
+thing which I suspected. But it was not long before I heard a deep sigh close to
+my ear, and not the name of a saint;--no--the name--do not be angry, dear
+mother--the name of your daughter.--My own name! Oh, that a peal of thunder had
+at that moment made me deaf to the rest. The voice spoke of beauty and of
+love--complained that this day, which crowned my happiness (if such should prove
+the case) sealed his misery for ever. He conjured me--all this I was obliged to
+hear, but I did not look round. I wished to seem as if I was not listening. What
+more could I do? Nothing but pray that my guardian angel would strike me with
+deafness--even with eternal deafness. This was my prayer--the only prayer which
+I could utter. At length it was time to rise; the service came to an end. I
+trembled at the idea of being obliged to turn round--trembled at the idea of
+beholding him whose impiety had so much shocked me--and when I turned--when I
+beheld him----</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whom, my daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Guess, dear mother, guess: I thought I should have sunk into
+the earth. Himself!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whom do you mean?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince! Blest be your father's impatience! He was here
+just now, and would not stay till you returned.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My father here--and not stay till I returned!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If, in the midst of your confusion, you had told him too.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, dear mother--could he have found anything in my conduct
+deserving of censure?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No--as little as in mine. And yet, yet--you do not know your
+father. When enraged, he would have mistaken the innocent for the guilty--in his
+anger he would have fancied me the cause of what I could neither prevent nor
+foresee. But proceed, my daughter, proceed. When you recognised the Prince, I
+trust that you were sufficiently composed to convince him by your looks, of the
+contempt which he deserved.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That I was not. After the glance by which I recognised him, I
+had not courage to cast a second. I fled.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And the Prince followed you?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I did not know it till I had reached the porch, where I felt
+my hand seized--by him. Shame compelled me to stop; as an effort to extricate
+myself would have attracted the attention of every one who was passing. This was
+the only reflection of which I was capable, or which I at present remember. He
+spoke, and I replied--but what he said, or what I replied, I know not.--Should I
+recollect it, my dear mother, you shall hear it. At present I remember nothing
+further. My senses had forsaken me.--In vain do I endeavour to recollect how I
+got away from him, and escaped from the porch. I found myself in the street--I
+heard his steps behind me--I heard him follow me into the house, and pursue me
+up the stairs----</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Fear has its peculiar faculty, my daughter. Never shall I
+forget the look with which you rushed into this room!--No. He dared not follow
+you so far.--Heavens! had your father known this!--How angry was he when I
+merely told him that the Prince had lately beheld you with admiration! Be at
+ease, however, my dear girl. Fancy what has happened to be a mere dream. The
+result will be less, even, than a dream. You will be assured to-day from all
+similar designs.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, mother! The Count must know it--to him I must relate it.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not for the world. Wherefore? Why? Do you wish to make him
+uneasy without a cause? And granting that he may not become so at present--know,
+my child, the poison which does not operate immediately, is not on that account
+less dangerous. That which has no effect upon the lover, may produce a serious
+one upon the husband. The lover might even be flattered at winning the prize
+from so great a rival; but when he has won it--alas, my dear Emilia, the lover
+often becomes quite another being. Heaven preserve you from such experience!</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You know, dear mother, how willingly I ever submit to your
+superior judgment. But should he learn from another that the Prince spoke to me
+to-day, would not my silence sooner or later increase his uneasiness?--I think
+it would be better not to conceal anything from him.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Weakness--a fond weakness. No, on no account, my daughter!
+Tell him nothing. Let him observe nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I submit. I have no will, dear mother, opposed to yours. Ah! (<i>sighing
+deeply</i>), I shall soon be well again. What a silly, timid thing I am! am I
+not, mother? I might have conducted myself otherwise, and should, perhaps, have
+compromised myself just a little.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I would not say this, my daughter, till your own good sense
+had spoken, which I was sure would be as soon as your alarm was at an end. The
+Prince is a gallant. You are too little used to the unmeaning language of
+gallantry. In your mind a civility becomes an emotion--a compliment, a
+declaration--an idea, a wish--a wish, a design. A mere nothing, in this
+language, sounds like everything, while everything is in reality nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dear mother, my terror cannot but appear ridiculous to myself
+now. But my kind Appiani shall know nothing of it. He might, perhaps, think me
+more vain than virtuous----Ah! there he comes himself. That is his step.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang1"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Appiani</span>, <i>in deep
+meditation. His eyes are cast down, and he approaches without observing </i><span class="sc">
+Claudia </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">Emilia</span>, <i>till the latter
+runs towards him</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! My dearest! I did not expect to find you in the ante-room.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I wish you to be cheerful, even where you do not expect to see
+me. Why so grave and solemn? Should not this day inspire joyful emotions?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is of greater value to me than my whole life; but it teems
+with so much bliss for me--perhaps it is this very bliss which makes me so
+grave--so solemn, as you express it (<i>espies </i><span class="sc">Claudia</span>). Ha! You too here,
+dear madam. This day I hope to address you by a more familiar name.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Which will be my greatest pride.--How happy you are, Emilia!
+Why would not your father share our delight?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But a few minutes have elapsed since I tore myself from his
+arms--or rather he from mine.--What a man your father is, my Emilia! A pattern
+of every manly virtue! With what sentiments does his presence inspire my soul!
+Never is my resolution to continue just and good, so firm as when I see or think
+of him. And by what, but by fulfilling this resolution, can I make myself worthy
+of the honour to be called his son--to become your husband, dear Emilia?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And he would not wait for me!</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Because, in my opinion, this brief interview with his Emilia
+would have distressed him too much, too deeply affected his soul.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He expected to find you busy with your bridal ornaments, and
+heard----</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What I have learnt from him with the tenderest admiration.
+Right, my Emilia. I shall be blessed with a pious wife--and one who is not proud
+of her piety.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But let us not, whilst we attend to one subject, forget
+another. It is high time, Emilia. Go!</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go! Why?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Surely, my lord, you would not lead her to the altar in her
+present attire.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In truth, I was not, till you spoke, aware of that. Who can
+behold Emilia, and take heed of her dress? Yet why should I not lead her to the
+altar thus?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, dear Count, not exactly thus; yet in a dress not much more
+gay. In a moment I shall be ready. I do not mean to wear those costly jewels,
+which were the last present of your prodigal generosity, no, nor anything suited
+to such jewels. Oh, I could quarrel with those jewels were they not your
+present--for thrice I've dreamt----</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! I know nothing of that.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That while I wore them, every diamond changed suddenly to a
+pearl--and pearls, you know, dear mother, signify tears.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Child, the interpretation is more visionary than the dream.
+Were you not always more fond of pearls than diamonds?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I assuredly, dear mother--assuredly----</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>thoughtful and melancholy</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Signify tears!</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How! Does that affect you? You?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It does, though I ought to be ashamed that such is the case;
+yet when the fancy is once disposed to sad impressions----</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But why should yours be so? Guess the subject of my thoughts.
+What did I wear, and how did I look when I first attracted your attention? Do
+you remember?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Remember! I never see you in idea but in that dress, and I see
+you so, even when you are not thus attired.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I mean to wear one of the same colour and form--flowing and
+loose.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Excellent!</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And my hair----</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In its own dark beauty, in curls formed by the hand of nature.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not forgetting the rose. Right! Have a little patience, and
+you shall see me thus. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Count Appiani, Claudia Galotti</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>looks after her with a downcast mien</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pearls signify tears!&quot;--a little patience! Yes! if we could
+but defy time! If a minute on the clock were not sometimes an age within us!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Emilia's remark was no less just than quick, Count. You are
+to-day more grave than usual. And yet you are but a step from the object of your
+wishes. Do you repent that you have attained the wished-for goal?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How could you, dear mother, suspect this of your son? But it
+is true. I am to-day unusually dejected and gloomy. All that I have seen, heard
+or dreamt, has preached since yesterday, and before yesterday this doctrine to
+me--to be but one step from the goal, and not to have attained it, is in reality
+the same. This one idea engrosses all my thoughts. What can it mean? I
+understand it not.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You make me uneasy, Count.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">One thought succeeds another. I am vexed--angry with my
+friends and with myself.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why so?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My friends absolutely require, that, before I solemnize my
+marriage, I should acquaint the Prince with my intentions. They allow I am not
+bound to do this, but maintain that respect towards him demands it; and I have
+been weak enough to consent. I have already ordered my carriage for the purpose.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>starts</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To wait upon the Prince!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IX.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Pirro</span>, <i>afterwards </i><span class="sc">
+Marinelli, Count Appiani, Claudia</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Pirro</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My lady, the Marquis Marinelli is at the door, and inquires
+for the Count.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For me!</p>
+
+<h3>PIRRO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here his lordship comes. (<i>Opens the door and exit</i>.)
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I ask pardon, madam. My lord Count, I called at your house,
+and was informed that I should find you here. I have important business with
+you. Once more pardon, madam. It will occupy but a few minutes.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will not impede it. (<i>Curtseys and exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> X.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marinelli, Appiani</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, my lord?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I come from his Highness.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What are his commands?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am proud to be the bearer of this distinguished favour; and
+if Count Appiani will not wilfully misunderstand one of his most devoted
+friends----</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Proceed, I pray, without more ceremony.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will. The Prince is obliged to send an ambassador
+immediately to the Duke of Massa respecting his marriage with the Princess his
+daughter. He was long undetermined whom to appoint, till his choice at last has
+fallen upon you, my lord.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Upon me?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes--and if friendship may be allowed to boast, I was
+instrumental----</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Truly I am at a loss for thanks. I had long renounced the hope
+of being noticed by the Prince.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am sure he only waited for a proper opportunity, and if the
+present mission be not sufficiently worthy of Count Appiani, I own my friendship
+has been too precipitate.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Friendship, friendship! every third word. With whom am I
+speaking? The Marquis Marinelli's friendship I never dreamt of gaining.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I acknowledge my fault, Count Appiani, my unpardonable fault
+in wishing to be your friend without your permission. But what of that? The
+favour of his Highness, and the dignity he offers, remain the same. I do not
+doubt you will accept them with pleasure.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after some consideration</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Undoubtedly.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Come, then, with me.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whither?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To the Prince's palace at Dosalo. All is ready. You must
+depart to-day.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What say you? To-day?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes. Rather now than an hour hence. The business presses.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! Then I am sorry I must decline the honour which the
+Prince intended to confer upon me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I cannot depart to-day,--nor to-morrow--nor the next day.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are jesting, Count.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With you?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Incomparable! If with the Prince, the joke is so much the
+merrier.--You cannot?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No, my lord, no--and I trust that the Prince himself will
+think my excuse sufficient.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am eager to hear it.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, it is a mere trifle. I mean to be married to-day.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed!--and what then?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And what then?--Your question shows a cursed simplicity!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There are examples, Count, of marriages having been deferred.
+I do not mean to infer that the delay was pleasant to the bride and bridegroom.
+To them it was, no doubt, a trial, yet the sovereign's command----</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sovereign's command? A sovereign of my own option, I am not so
+strictly bound to obey. I admit that you owe the Prince absolute obedience, but
+not I. I came to his court a volunteer. I wished to enjoy the honour of serving
+him, but not of being his slave. I am the vassal of a greater sovereign.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Greater or smaller, a monarch is a monarch.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Idle controversy! Enough! Tell the Prince what you have heard.
+Tell him I am sorry I cannot accept the honour, as I to-day intend to solemnize
+an union which will consummate my happiness.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Will you not at the same time inform him with whom?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With Emilia Galotti.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The daughter of this family?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Humph!</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you mean?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I mean that there would be the less difficulty in deferring
+the ceremony till your return.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The ceremony?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes. The worthy parents will not think much about it.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The worthy parents?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And Emilia will remain faithful to you, of course.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Of course</i>?----You are an impertinent ape, with your &quot;of
+course.&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This to me, Count?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why not?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Heaven and hell! You shall hear from me.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pshaw! The ape is malicious, but----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Death and damnation!--Count, I demand satisfaction.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You shall have it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">----And would insist upon it instantly--but that I should not
+like to spoil the day for the loving bridegroom.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Good--natured creature!--(<i>seizes his arm</i>). I own an
+embassy to Massa does not suit me, but still I have time enough to take a walk
+with you. Come.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>extricates himself from the </i><span class="sc">Count's </span><i>grasp</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Patience, my lord, patience! (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> XI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Appiani, Claudia</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go, worthless wretch----Ha! that does me good. My blood
+circulates----I feel different and all the better.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>hastily and alarmed</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Heavens! My lord--I overheard an angry altercation. Your cheek
+is flushed. What has happened?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing, Madam, nothing. The chamberlain Marinelli has
+conferred a favour on me. He has saved me a visit to the Prince.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">We can therefore leave town earlier. I go to give orders to my
+people, and shall return immediately. Emilia will, in the meantime, get ready.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">May I feel quite at ease, my lord?</p>
+
+<h3>APPIANI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Perfectly so, dear Madam. (<i>Exeunt severally</i>.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT III.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Scene</span>, <i>an apartment in the </i><span class="sc">Prince's
+</span><i>country palace</i>.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Prince </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In vain. He refused the proffered honour with the greatest
+contempt.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This ends all hope, then. Things take their course,</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">According to all appearances.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I relied so firmly on your project--but who knows how
+ridiculously you acted? I ought to have recollected that though a blockhead's
+counsel may be good, it requires a clever man to execute it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A pretty reward, this!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why should you be rewarded?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For having risked my life on the venture. Finding that neither
+raillery nor reason could induce the Count to sacrifice his love to honour, I
+tried to rouse his anger. I said things to him which made him forget himself. He
+used insulting expressions, and I demanded satisfaction--yes, satisfaction on
+the spot. One of us must fall, thought I. Should it be his fate, the field is
+ours--should it be mine--why, he must fly, and the Prince will at least gain
+time.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Did you act thus, Marinelli?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes; he, who is ready to sacrifice his life for princes, ought
+to learn beforehand how grateful they are likely to be.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And the Count? Report says that he is not the man to wait till
+satisfaction is a second time demanded.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No doubt, in ordinary cases. Who can blame him? He said that
+he had then something of greater consequence than a duel to occupy his thoughts,
+and put me off till a week after his marriage.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With Emilia Galotti. The idea drives me to
+distraction----Thus, then, the affair ended, and now you come hither to boast
+that you risked your life in my behalf--sacrificed yourself for me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What more, my lord, would you have had me do?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">More? As if you had done anything!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">May I be allowed to ask what your Highness has done for
+yourself? You were so fortunate as to see her at church. What is the result of
+your conference?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>with a sneer</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You have curiosity enough--but I will satisfy it. All happened
+as I wished. You need take no further trouble, my most serviceable friend. She
+met my proposal more than half way. I ought to have taken her with me instantly.
+(<i>In a cold and commanding tone</i>.) Now you have heard what you wished to
+know, and may depart.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And may depart! Yes, yes. Thus the song ends, and so 'twould
+be were I to attempt the impossible. The impossible, did I say? No. Impossible
+it is not--only a daring attempt. Had we the girl in our power, I would answer
+for it that no marriage should take place.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ay--you would answer for anything. I suppose, for instance,
+you would like to take a troop of my guards, lie in ambush by the highway, fall
+to the number of fifty upon one carriage, and bear the girl in triumph to me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A girl has been carried off before now by force, though there
+has been no appearance of force in the transaction.----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If you were able to do this, you would not talk so much about
+it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">----But I cannot be answerable for the consequences.
+Unforeseen accidents may happen.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is it my custom to make people answerable for what they cannot
+help?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Therefore your Highness will--(<i>a pistol is fired at a
+distance</i>). Ha! What was that? Did not my ears deceive me? Did not your
+Highness also hear a shot. And hark! Another!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What means this? What is the matter?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How if I were more active than you deemed me?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">More active! Explain, then----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In short, what I mentioned is now taking place.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is it possible?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But forget not, Prince, what you just now promised. You pledge
+your word that----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The necessary precautions I hope have been taken.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, as carefully as possible. The execution of my plan is
+entrusted to people on whom I can rely. The road, as you know, runs close by
+your park fence. There the carriage will be attacked by a party, apparently to
+rob the travellers. Another band (one of whom is my trusty servant) will rush
+from the park as if to assist those who are attacked. During the sham battle
+between the two parties, my servant will seize Emilia, as if to rescue her, and
+bring her through the park into the palace. This is the plan. What says your
+Highness now?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You surprise me beyond measure. A fearful anxiety comes o'er
+me. (<span class="sc">Marinelli </span><i>walks to the window</i>.) What are you looking at?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That must be the scene of action--yes, and see, some one in a
+mask has just leapt over the fence--doubtless to acquaint me with the result.
+Withdraw awhile, your Highness.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, Marinelli----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well--now, doubtless, I have done too much--as I before had
+done too little.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not so--not so--yet I cannot perceive----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Perceive?--It is best done at one blow. Withdraw quickly. You
+must not be seen here.</p>
+
+<p class="right">(<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Prince</span>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marinelli </span><i>and presently </i><span class="sc">
+Angelo</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>goes again to the window</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The carriage is returning slowly to town. So slowly? and at
+each door a servant? These appearances do not please me; they show the plot has
+only half succeeded. They are driving some wounded person carefully, and he is
+not dead. The fellow in the mask comes nearer. 'Tis Angelo himself--foolhardy!
+But he knows the windings of this place. He beckons to me--he must know that he
+has succeeded.--Ha! ha! Count Appiani. You, who refused an embassy to Massa,
+have been obliged to go a longer journey. Who taught you to recognize apes so
+well? 'Tis true, they are malicious (<i>walks towards the door</i>). Well,
+Angelo?</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Angelo</span>, <i>with his mash
+in his hand</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be ready, my lord. She will be here directly.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How did you succeed in other respects?</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">As you wished, I have no doubt.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How is it with the Count?</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So, so. But he must have had some suspicions, for he was not
+quite unprepared.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Quick, tell me--is he dead?</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am sorry for him, poor man.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There! Take that for thy compassion (<i>gives him a purse</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And our poor Nicolo too, he has shared the same luck.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What! Loss on both sides?</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes. I could cry for the honest lad's fate; though I come in
+for another quarter of this purse by it; for I am his heir, since I avenged him.
+This is a law among us, and as good a law, methinks, as ever was made for the
+support of friendship and fidelity. This Nicolo, my lord----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No more of your Nicolo! The Count----</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Zounds! The Count finished him, and I finished the Count. He
+fell, and though he might be alive when they put him into the coach, I'll answer
+for it that he will never come alive out of it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Were you but sure of this, Angelo----</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I'll forfeit your custom, if it be not true. Have you any
+further commands? For I have a long journey. We must be across the frontier
+before sunset.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go, then.</p>
+
+<h3>ANGELO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Should anything else occur in my way, you know where to
+inquire for me. What any other can venture to do will be no magic for me, and my
+terms are lower than any other's. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">'Tis well--yet not so well as it might have been. Shame on
+thee, Angelo, to be such a niggard! Surely the Count was worthy of a second
+shot. Now, he may die in agony; poor Count! Shame, Angelo! It was a cruel and
+bungling piece of work. The Prince must not know what has happened. He himself
+must discover how advantageous this death is to him. Death! What would I not
+give to be certain of it!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Prince, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here she comes up the avenue. She flies before the servants.
+Fear gives wings to her feet. She must not suspect our design. She thinks she is
+escaping from robbers. How long will her mistake last?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">At least we have her here.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But will not her mother come in search of her? Will not the
+Count follow her? What can we do then? How can I keep her from them?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To all this I confess I can make no reply. But we must see.
+Compose yourself, Prince. This first step was, at all events, necessary.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How so, if we are obliged to recede?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But perhaps we need not. There are a thousand things on which
+we may make further steps. Have you forgotten the chief one?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How can I have forgotten that of which I never thought? What
+mean you by the chief one?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The art of pleasing and persuading--which in a prince who
+loves can never fail.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Can never fail! True, except when it is most needed. I have
+already made a poor attempt in this art to-day. All my flattery, all my
+entreaties could not extract one word from her. Mute, trembling, and abashed,
+she stood before me like a criminal who fears the judge's fatal sentence. Her
+terror was infectious. I trembled also and concluded by imploring her
+forgiveness. Scarcely dare I speak to her again--and, at all events, I dare not
+be present when she arrives. You, Marinelli, must receive her. I will listen to
+your conversation, and join you when I am more collected.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>, <i>presently his servant </i><span class="sc">
+Battista</span>, <i>and </i><span class="sc">Emilia</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If she did not see him fall--and of course she could not, as
+she fled instantly But she comes, and I too do not wish to be the first to meet
+her eye (<i>withdraws to a corner of the apartment</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Battista </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Emilia</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This way--this way--dear lady.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>out of breath</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh! I thank you, my friend--I thank you. But, Heavens! Where
+am I? Quite alone, too! Where are my mother, and the Count? They are surely
+coming? Are they not close behind me?</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I suppose so.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You suppose so? Are you not certain? Have you not seen them?
+Were not pistols fired behind us?</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pistols? Was it so?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Surely. Oh, Heavens! and the Count or my mother is shot.</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I'll go in search of them instantly.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not without me! I'll go with you! I must go with you. Come, my
+friend.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>approaches as if he had just entered</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! fair lady! What misfortune, or rather what good
+fortune--what fortunate misfortune has procured us the honour----</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>astonished</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How!--You here, my lord!--This then is doubtless your house.
+Pardon my intrusion. We have been attacked by robbers. Some good people came to
+our assistance,--and this honest man took me out of the carriage and conducted
+me hither. But I am alarmed to find that I alone am rescued. My mother must be
+still in danger. I heard pistols fired behind us. Perhaps she is dead,--and yet
+I live. Pardon me. I must away, I must return to the place, which I ought not to
+have left.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Compose yourself, dear lady. All is well. The beloved persons,
+for whom you feel this tender anxiety, will soon be here.--Run, Battista; they
+may perhaps not know where the lady is. See whether you can find them in any of
+the lodges, and conduct them hither instantly.</p>
+
+<p class="right">(<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Battista</span>.)</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Are you sure they are all safe? Has nothing happened to
+them?--Oh, what a day of terrors has this been to me! But I ought not to remain
+here; I should hasten to meet them.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why so, dear lady? You are already breathless and exhausted.
+Compose yourself, and condescend to step into this room, where you will find
+better accommodation than here. I feel certain that the Prince has already found
+your gracious mother, and is escorting her hither.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who do you say?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Our gracious Prince himself.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>extremely terrified</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He flew to your assistance at the first intelligence. He is
+highly incensed that such a crime should have been committed so near to his
+villa, nay, almost before his eyes. He has sent in search of the villains, and
+if they be seized, their punishment will be most severe.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince!--Where am I then?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">At Dosalo, the Prince's villa.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How strange!--And you think he will soon arrive?--But with my
+mother too?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here he is, already.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Prince, Emilia</span>, <i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Marinellies</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Where is she? Where is she?--We have sought you everywhere,
+dear lady.--You are well, I hope? Now, all is well. The Count and your
+mother----</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, your Highness! Where are they? Where is my mother?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not far off, close at hand.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Heavens! In what a situation shall I perhaps find one or other
+of them! For your Highness conceals from me--I perceive----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I conceal nothing, be assured. Lean on my arm, and accompany
+me to them without fear.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>irresolute</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But--if they be not wounded--if my suspicions be not true--why
+are they not already here?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hasten then, that all these sad apprehensions may at once be
+banished.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What shall I do? (<i>wrings her hands</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How, dear lady! Can you harbour any suspicion against me?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>falls at his feet</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">On my knees I entreat you----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>raising her</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am quite ashamed.--Yes, Emilia, I deserve this mute
+reproach. My conduct this morning cannot be justified, or even excused. Pardon
+my weakness: I ought not to have made you uneasy by an avowal, from which I
+could expect no advantage. I was amply punished by the speechless agitation with
+which you listened to it, or rather did not listen to it. And if I might be
+allowed to think this accident the signal of more favourable fortune--the most
+wondrous respite of my final sentence--this accident, which allows me to behold
+and speak to you again before my hopes for ever vanish--this accident, which
+gives me an opportunity of imploring your forgiveness--yet will I--do not
+tremble--yet will I rely only and entirely on your looks. Not a sigh, not a
+syllable shall offend you. Only wound me not with suspicions--do not for a
+moment doubt the unbounded influence which you possess over me--only imagine not
+that you need any protection against me. And now come--come where delights more
+in harmony with your feelings, await you. (<i>Leads her away, not without
+opposition</i>.) Follow us, Marinelli.</p>
+
+<p class="right">(<i>Exeunt </i><span class="sc">Prince </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">Emilia</span>.)</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Follow us! That means of course--Follow us not. And why should
+I follow them? He will now find how far he can proceed with her, without
+witnesses. All that I have to do is to prevent intrusion. From the Count I no
+longer expect it--but from her mother. Wonderful, indeed, would it be, were she
+to have departed quietly, leaving her daughter unprotected. Well, Battista, what
+now?</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Battista </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>in haste</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The mother, my lord chamberlain----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">As I suspected. Where is she?</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She will be here immediately, unless you prevent it. When you
+ordered me to pretend to look for her, I felt little inclination to do so. But
+in the distance I heard her shrieks. She is in search of her daughter, and will
+discover the whole plot. All the people who inhabit this retired spot have
+gathered round her, and each vies with his neighbour to show her the way.
+Whether she has been told that you are here, or that the Prince is here, I know
+not. What is to be done?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let us see (<i>considering</i>). Refuse her admittance when
+she knows that her daughter is here? That will not do. She will certainly open
+her eyes when she finds her lambkin in the clutches of the wolf. Eyes! They
+would be of little consequence; but Heaven have mercy on our ears! Well, well. A
+woman's lungs are not inexhaustible. She will be silent, when she can shriek no
+longer. Besides, the mother it is whom we should gain over to our side--and if I
+be a judge of mothers--to be a sort of prince's step--mother would flatter most
+of them. Let her come, Battista, let her come.</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hark, my lord!</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>within</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Emilia! Emilia! My child! Where are you?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go, Battista, and use your endeavours to dismiss her
+inquisitive companions.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Claudia, Battista, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>As </i><span class="sc">Battista </span><i>is going</i>, <span class="sc">
+Claudia </span><i>meets him</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! You took her out of the carriage. You led her away. I know
+you again. Where is she? Speak, wretch.</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Are these your thanks?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, if you merit thanks (<i>in a mild tone</i>), forgive me,
+worthy man. Where is she? Let me no longer be deprived of her. Where is she?</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She could not be more safe, were she in heaven.--My master,
+here, will conduct you to her. (<i>Observes that some people are beginning to
+follow </i><span class="sc">Claudia</span>.) Back there! Begone! (<i>Exit, driving them away</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Claudia, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your master? (<i>espies </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>, <i>and starts</i>). Ha!
+Is this your
+<i>master</i>? You here, Sir--and my daughter here--and you--you will conduct me
+to her?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With great pleasure, madam.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Hold! It just occurs to me. It was you, I think, who visited
+Count Appiani this morning at my house,--whom I left alone with him,--and with
+whom he afterwards had a quarrel?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A quarrel? That I did not know. We had a trifling dispute
+respecting affairs of state.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And your name is Marinelli?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Marquis Marinelli.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">True. Hear, then, Marquis Marinelli. Your name, accompanied
+with a curse----but no--I will not wrong the noble man--the curse was inferred
+by myself--your name was the last word uttered by the dying Count.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The dying Count? Count Appiani?----You hear, Madam, what most
+surprises me in this your strange address--the dying Count?--What else you mean
+to imply, I know not.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>with asperity, and in a deliberate tone</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marinelli was the last word uttered by the dying Count.--Do
+you understand me now? I myself did not at first understand it, though it was
+spoken in a tone--a tone which I still hear. Where were my senses that I could
+not understand it instantly?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, Madam, I was always the Count's friend--his intimate
+friend. If, therefore, he pronounced my name at the hour of death----</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In that tone!--I cannot imitate--I cannot describe it--but it
+signified----everything. What! Were we attacked by robbers? No--by assassins--by
+hired assassins: and Marinelli was the last word uttered by the dying Count, in
+such a tone----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In such a tone? Did any one ever hear that a tone of voice
+used in a moment of terror could be a ground of accusation against an honest
+man?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh that I could appear before a tribunal of justice, and
+imitate that tone? Yet, wretch that I am! I forget my daughter. Where is
+she--dead too? Was it my daughter's fault that Appiani was thy enemy?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I revere the mother's fears, and therefore pardon you.--Come,
+Madam. Your daughter is in an adjoining room, and I hope her alarms are by this
+time at an end. With the tenderest solicitude is the Prince himself employed in
+comforting her.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince! Do you really say the Prince--our Prince?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who else should it be?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Wretched mother that I am!--And her father, her father! He
+will curse the day of her birth. He will curse me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For Heaven's sake, Madam, what possesses you?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is clear. To-day--at church--before the eyes of the
+All-pure--in the presence of the Eternal, this scheme of villainy began. (<i>To
+</i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>.) Murderer! Mean, cowardly murderer! Thou wast not bold enough to meet
+him face to face, but base enough to bribe assassins that another might be
+gratified. Thou scum of murderers! honourable murderers would not endure thee in
+their company. Why may I not spit all my gall, all my rancour into thy face,
+thou panderer?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You rave, good woman. Moderate your voice, at any rate, and
+remember where you are.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Where I am! Remember where I am! What cares the lioness, when
+robbed of her young, in whose forest she roars?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA (<i>within</i>).</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! My mother! I hear my mother's voice.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Her voice? 'Tis she! She has heard me. Where are you, my
+child?--I come, I come (<i>rushes into the room, followed by </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>).</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT IV.</h2>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>The same</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Prince </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Come, Marinelli, I must collect myself--I look to you for
+explanation.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh! maternal anger! Ha! ha! ha!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You laugh?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Had you, Prince, but seen her frantic conduct in this room!
+You heard how she screamed; yet how tame she became as soon as she beheld you!
+Ha! ha! Yes--I never yet knew the mother who scratched a prince's eyes out,
+because he thought her daughter handsome.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are a poor observer. The daughter fell senseless into her
+mother's arms. This made the mother forget her rage. It was her daughter, not
+me, whom she spared, when, in a low voice, she uttered--what I myself had rather
+not have heard--had rather not have understood.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What means your Highness?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why this dissimulation? Answer me. Is it true or false?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And if it were true!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If it were! It is, then--he is dead (<i>in a threatening tone</i>).
+Marinelli! Marinelli!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">By the God of justice I swear that I am innocent of this
+blood. Had you previously told me that the Count's life must be sacrificed--God
+is my witness I would as soon have consented to lose my own.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Had I previously told you! As if the Count's death was part of
+my plan! I charged Angelo that on his soul he should take care that no person
+suffered injury; and this, too, would have been the case, had not the Count
+begun the fray, and shot the first assailant on the spot.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! he ought to have understood the joke better.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So that Angelo was enraged, and instantly avenged his
+comrade's death----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, that is certainly very natural.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I have reproved him for it.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Reproved him! How good--natured! Advise him never to appear
+again in my dominions; for my reproof might not be found so good-natured.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Just as I foresaw! I and Angelo.--Design and accident; all the
+same.--It was, however, agreed, and indeed promised, that I should not be
+answerable for any accidents which might happen.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Might</i> happen, say you, or <i>must</i>?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Still better! Yet one word, your Highness, before you say in
+harsh phrase what you think of me. The Count's death was far from being a matter
+of indifference to me. I had challenged him. He left the world without giving me
+satisfaction, and my honour, consequently, remains tarnished. Allowing,
+therefore, what under other circumstances I deserved the suspicion you allude
+to, can I in this? (<i>with assumed anger</i>.) He who can so suspect me----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>yielding</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, well!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh that he were still alive! I would give all that I
+possess--(<i>with bitterness</i>)--even the favour of my Prince--even that
+treasure, invaluable and never to be trifled with, would I give.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, well! I understand you. His death was accidental, merely
+accidental--you assure me that it was so, and I believe it. But will any one
+else believe it? Will Emilia--her mother--the world?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>coldly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Scarcely.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What, then, will they believe? You shrug your shoulders. They
+will suppose Angelo the tool and me the prime mover.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>still more coldly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Probable enough!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Me! me, myself!--or from this hour I must resign all hopes of
+Emilia.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>in a tone of perfect indifference</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Which you must also have done, had the Count lived.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>violently</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Marinelli!--(<i>checking his warmth</i>)--But you shall not
+rouse my anger. Be it so. It is so. You mean to imply that the Count's death is
+fortunate for me;--the best thing which could have happened--the only
+circumstance which could bring my passion to a happy issue--and, therefore, no
+matter how it happened. A Count more or less in the world is of little
+consequence. Am I right?--I am not alarmed at a little crime; but it must be a
+secret little crime, a serviceable little crime. But ours has not been either
+secret or serviceable. It has opened a passage only to close it again. Every one
+will lay it to our door. And, after all, we have not perpetrated it at all. This
+can only be the result of your wise and wonderful management.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If your Highness have it so----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why not?--I want an explanation----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am accused of more than I deserve.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I want an explanation.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well then, what error in my plans has attached such obvious
+suspicion to the Prince? The fault lies in the master-stroke which your Highness
+so graciously put to my plans----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Allow me to say that the step which you took at church this
+morning--with whatever circumspection it was done, or however inevitable it
+might be--was not part of my programme.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How did that injure it?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not indeed the whole plan, but its opportuneness.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do I understand you?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To speak more intelligibly. When I undertook the business,
+Emilia knew nothing of the Prince's attachment. Her mother just as little. How
+if I formed my foundation upon this circumstance, and in the meantime the Prince
+was undermining my edifice?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>striking his forehead</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Damnation!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How, if he himself betrayed his intentions?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Cursed interposition!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For had he not so behaved himself I should like to know what
+part of my plan could have raised the least suspicion in the mind of the mother
+or the daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are right.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And therein I certainly am very wrong.--Pardon me.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Battista, The Prince, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">BATTISTA</span> (<i>hastily</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess is arrived.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess? What Countess?</p>
+
+<h3>BATTISTA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Orsina!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Orsina? Marinelli!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am as much astonished as yourself.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to </i><span class="sc">Battista</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Go--run--Battista. She must not alight. I am not here--not
+here to her. She must return this instant. Go, go. (<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Battista</span>). What
+does the silly woman want? How dares she take this liberty? How could she know
+that we were here? Is she come as a spy? Can she have heard anything? Oh,
+Marinelli, speak, answer me. Is the man offended, who vows he is my
+friend--offended by a paltry altercation? Shall I beg pardon?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince, as soon as you recover yourself, I am yours again,
+with my whole soul. The arrival of Orsina is as much an enigma to me as to you.
+But she will not be denied. What will you do?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I will not speak to her. I will withdraw.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Right! Do so instantly; I will receive her.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But merely to dismiss her. No more. We have other business to
+perform.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not so, not so. Our other things are done. Summon up
+resolution and all deficiencies will be supplied. But do I not hear her? Hasten,
+Prince. In that room (<i>pointing to an adjoining apartment, to which the
+</i><span class="sc">Prince
+</span><i>retires</i>)--you may, if you please, listen to our conversation. She comes,
+I fear, at an unpropitious moment for her.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Countess Orsina, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>without perceiving </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What means this? No one comes to meet me, but a shameless
+servant, who endeavours to obstruct my entrance. Surely I am at Dosalo, where,
+on former occasions, an army of attendants rushed to receive me--where love and
+ecstasy awaited me. Yes. The place is the same, but----Ha! you here, Marinelli?
+I am glad the Prince has brought you with him. Yet, no. My business with his
+Highness must be transacted with himself only. Where is he?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince, Countess?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Who else?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You suppose that he is here, then,--or know it, perhaps. He,
+however, does not expect a visit from your ladyship.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! He has not then received my letter this morning.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your letter? But--yes. I remember he mentioned that he had
+received one.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well? Did I not in that letter request he would meet me here
+to-day? I own he did not think proper to return a written answer; but I learnt
+that an hour afterwards he drove from town to Dosalo. This I thought a
+sufficient answer, and therefore I have come.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A strange accident!</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Accident! It was an agreement--at least as good as an
+agreement. On my part, the letter--on his, the deed. How you stand staring,
+Marquis! What surprises you?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You seemed resolved yesterday never to appear before the
+Prince again.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Night is a good councillor. Where is he? Where is he?
+Doubtless in the chamber, whence sighs and sobs were issuing as I passed. I
+wished to enter, but the impertinent servant would not let me pass.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dearest Countess----</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I heard a woman's shriek. What means this, Marinelli? Tell
+me--if I be your dearest Countess--tell me. A curse on these court slaves! Their
+tales! their lies! But what matters it whether you choose to tell me or not? I
+will see for myself.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>holding her back</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whither would you go?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Where I ought to have gone long since. Is it proper, think
+you, that I should waste any time in idle conversation with you in the
+ante-chamber, when the Prince expects me in the saloon?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are mistaken, Countess. The Prince does not expect you
+here. He cannot--will not see you.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And yet is here, in consequence of my letter.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not in consequence of your letter.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He received it, you say.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, but he did not read it.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>violently</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not read it! (<i>Less violently</i>.) Not read it! (<i>Sorrowfully,
+and wiping away a tear</i>.) Not even read it!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">From preoccupation, I am certain, not contempt.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>with pride</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Contempt! Who thought of such a thing? To whom do you use the
+term? Marinelli, your comfort is impertinent. Contempt! Contempt! To me! (<i>In
+a milder tone</i>.) It is true that he no longer loves me. That is certain. And
+in place of love something else has filled his soul. It is natural. But why
+should this be contempt? Indifference would be enough. Would it not, Marinelli?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Certainly, certainly.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>with a scornful look</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Certainly! What an oracle, who can be made to say what one
+pleases! Indifference in the place of love!--That means nothing in the place of
+something. For learn, thou mimicking court-parrot, learn from a woman, that
+indifference is but an empty word, a mere sound which means nothing. The mind
+can only be indifferent to objects of which it does not think; to things which
+for itself have no existence. Only indifferent for a thing that is nothing--that
+is as much as saying not indifferent. Is that meaning beyond thee, man?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas! how prophetic were my fears?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you mutter?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mere admiration! Who does not know, Countess, that you are a
+philosopher?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Am I not? True; I am a philosopher. But have I now shown it;
+ah, shame! If I have shown it, and have often done so, it were no wonder if the
+Prince despised me. How can man love a creature which, in spite of him, will <i>
+think</i>? A woman who thinks is as silly as a man who uses paint. She ought to
+laugh--do nothing but laugh, that the mighty lords of the creation may be kept
+in good humour--What makes me laugh now, Marinelli? Why, the accidental
+circumstance that I should have written to the Prince to come hither--that he
+should not have read my letter and nevertheless have come. Ha! ha! ha! 'Tis an
+odd accident, very pleasant and amusing. Why don't you laugh, Marinelli? The
+mighty lords of the creation may laugh, though we poor creatures dare not think.
+(<i>In a serious and commanding tone</i>.) Then laugh, you!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Presently, Countess, presently.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Blockhead! while you speak the proper moment is for ever past.
+No. Do not laugh--for mark me, Marinelli, (<i>with emotion</i>) that which makes
+me laugh, has, like every thing in the world, its serious side. Accident! Could
+it be accidental that the Prince, who little thought that he would see me here,
+must see me?--Accident! Believe me, Marinelli, the word accident is blasphemy.
+Nothing under the sun is accidental, and least of all this, of which the purpose
+is so evident.--Almighty and all--bounteous Providence, pardon me that I joined
+this poor weak sinner in giving the name of accident to what so plainly is Thy
+work--yes, Thy immediate work. (<i>In a hasty tone to </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>.) Dare not
+again to lead me thus astray from truth.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">This is going too far (<i>aside</i>)--But, Countess----</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Peace with your <i>but</i>--that word demands reflection,
+and--my head, my head!--(<i>Puts her hand to her forehead</i>)--Contrive that I
+may speak to the Prince immediately, or I shall soon want strength to do so. You
+see, Marinelli, that I must speak to him--that I am resolved to speak to him.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Prince, Orsina, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside, as he advances</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I must come to his assistance.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>espies him, but remains irresolute whether to approach him or not</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! There he is.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>walks straight across the room towards the other apartments</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! The fair Countess, as I live. How sorry I am, Madam, that
+I can to-day so ill avail myself of the honour of your visit. I am engaged. I am
+not alone. Another time, dear Countess, another time. At present stay no
+longer--no longer, I beg. And you, Marinelli--I want you. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Orsina, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your ladyship has now heard, from himself, what you would not
+believe from my lips, have you not?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>as if petrified</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Have I? Have, I indeed?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Most certainly.</p>
+
+<h3 dir="ltr">ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>deeply affected</i>).</span></h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am engaged, I am not alone.&quot; Is this all the excuse I am
+worth? For whose dismissal would not these words serve? For every importunate,
+for every beggar. Could he not frame one little falsehood for me? Engaged! With
+what? Not alone! Who can be with him? Marinelli, dear Marinelli, be
+compassionate--tell me a falsehood on your own account. What can a falsehood
+cost you? What has he to do? Who is with him? Tell me, tell me. Say anything
+which first occurs to you, and I will go.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">On this condition, I may tell her part of the truth.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Quick, Marinelli, and I will go. He said, &quot;Another time, dear
+Countess!&quot; Did he not? That he may keep his promise--that he may have no pretext
+to break it--quick, then, Marinelli,--tell me a falsehood, and I will go.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince, dear Countess, is really not alone. There are
+persons with him, whom he cannot leave for a moment--persons, who have just
+escaped imminent danger. Count Appiani----</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is with him! What a pity that I know this to be false! Quick,
+another! for Count Appiani, if you do not know it, has just been assassinated by
+robbers. I met the carriage, with his body in it, as I came from town. Or did I
+not? Was it a dream?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas, it was not a dream. But they who accompanied the Count
+were fortunately rescued, and are now in this palace; namely, a lady to whom he
+was betrothed, and whom, with her mother, he was conducting to Sabionetta, to
+celebrate his nuptials.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">They are with the Prince! A lady and her mother! Is the lady
+handsome?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince is extremely sorry for her situation.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That he would be, I hope, even if she were hideous--for her
+fate is dreadful. Poor girl! at the moment he was to become thine for ever, he
+was torn for ever from thee. Who is she? Do I know her? I have of late been so
+much out of town, that I am ignorant of every thing.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is Emilia Galotti.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What? Emilia Galotti? Oh, Marinelli, let me not mistake this
+lie for truth.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Emilia Galotti?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes. Whom you can scarcely know.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do know her--though our acquaintance only began to-day.
+Emilia Galotti! Answer me seriously. Is Emilia Galotti the unfortunate lady whom
+the Prince is consoling?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Can I have disclosed too much?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And Count Appiani was her destined bridegroom--Count Appiani,
+who was shot to-day?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Exactly.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>clapping her hands</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What now?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I could kiss the devil that tempted him to do it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Whom? Tempted? To do what?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, I could kiss--him--even wert thou that devil, Marinelli.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess!</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Come hither. Look at me--steadfastly--eye to eye.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Know you not my thoughts?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How can I?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Have you no concern in it?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In what?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Swear. No, do not swear, for that might be another crime. But
+yes--swear. One sin more or less is of no consequence to a man who is already
+damned. Have you no concern in it?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You alarm me, Countess.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! Now, Marinelli--has your good heart no suspicion?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Suspicion? Of what?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">'Tis well. Then I will entrust you with a secret--a secret,
+which will make each hair upon your head stand on end. But here, so near the
+door, some one might overhear us. Come here--(<i>puts her finger to her mouth</i>)--mark
+me, it is a secret--a profound secret. (<i>Places her mouth to his ear, as if
+about to whisper, and shouts as loudly as she can</i>) The Prince is a murderer!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess! Countess! Have you lost your senses?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Senses? Ha! ha! ha! (<i>laughing loudly</i>). I have very
+seldom, if ever, been so satisfied with my understanding as I am at this moment.
+Depend upon it, Marinelli--but it is between ourselves--(<i>in a low voice</i>)--the
+Prince is a murderer--the murderer of Count Appiani. The Count was assassinated,
+not by robbers, but by the Prince's myrmidons, by the Prince himself.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How can so horrid a suspicion fall from your lips, or enter
+your imagination?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How? Very naturally. This Emilia Galotti, who is now in the
+palace, and whose bridegroom--was thus trundled head over heels out of the
+world--this Emilia Galotti did the Prince to-day accost in the Church of the
+Dominicans, and held a lengthy conversation with her. That I know, for my spies
+not only saw it, but heard what he said. Now, sir, have I lost my senses?
+Methinks I connect the attendant circumstances very tolerably together. Or has
+all this happened, too, by accident? If so, Marinelli, you have as little idea
+of the wickedness of man as you have of prevision.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess, you would talk your life into danger----</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Were I to mention this to others? So much the better! So much
+the better! To-morrow I will repeat it aloud in the market-place--and, if any
+one contradict me--if any one contradict me, he was the murderer's accomplice.
+Farewell. (<i>As she is going, she meets </i><span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>entering hastily</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Odoardo, Orsina, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon me, gracious lady----</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I can grant no pardon here, for I can take no offence. You
+must apply to this gentleman (<i>pointing to </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>).</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The father! This completes the business.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Pardon a father, sir, who is in the greatest embarrassment,
+for entering unannounced.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Father!--(<i>turning round again</i>)--Of Emilia, no doubt!
+Ha! Thou art welcome.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A servant came in haste to tell me that my family was in
+danger near here. I flew hither, he mentioned, and found that Count Appiani has
+been wounded--and carried back to town--and that my wife and daughter have found
+refuge in the palace. Where are they, sir, where are they?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Be calm, Colonel. Your wife and daughter have sustained no
+injury save from terror. They are both well. The Prince is with them. I will
+immediately announce you.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why announce? merely <i>announce</i> me?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For reasons--on account of--on account of--you know, sir, that
+you are not upon the most friendly terms with the Prince. Gracious as may be his
+conduct towards your wife and daughter--they are ladies--will your unexpected
+appearance be welcome to him?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are right, my lord, you are right.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, Countess, may I not first have the honour of handing you
+to your carriage?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">By no means.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>taking her hand, not in the most gentle way</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Allow me to perform my duty.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Softly!--I excuse you, Marquis. Why do such as you ever
+consider mere politeness a duty, and neglect as unimportant what is really an
+essential duty? To announce this worthy man immediately is your duty.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Have you forgotten what the Prince himself commanded?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let him come, and repeat his commands. I shall expect him.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>draws </i><span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am obliged to leave you, Colonel, with a lady whose
+intellect--you understand me, I mention this that you may know in what way to
+treat her remarks, which are sometimes singular. It were better not to enter
+into conversation with her.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Very well. Only make haste, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="right">(<i>Exit </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Orsina, Odoardo</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">ORSINA (<i>after a pause, during which she has surveyed </i><span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>with a
+look of compassion, while he has cast towards her a glance of curiosity</i>).</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Alas! What did he say to you, unfortunate man?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>half aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Unfortunate!</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Truth it certainly was not--at least, not one of those sad
+truths which await you.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Which await me? Do I, then, not know enough? Madam--but
+proceed, proceed.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You know nothing?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Worthy father! What would I give that you were my father!
+Pardon me. The unfortunate so willingly associate together. I would faithfully
+share your sorrows--and your anger.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Sorrows and anger? Madam--but I forget--go on.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Should she even be your only daughter--your only child--but it
+matters not. An unfortunate child is ever an only one.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Unfortunate?--Madam! But why do I attend to her? And yet, by
+Heaven, no lunatic speaks thus.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Lunatic? That, then, was the secret which he told you of me.
+Well, well. It is perhaps not one of his greatest falsehoods. I feel that I am
+something like one; and believe me, sir, they who, under certain circumstances,
+do not lose their intellect, have none to lose.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What must I think?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Treat me not with contempt, old man. You possess strong sense.
+I know it by your resolute and reverend mien. You also possess sound judgment,
+yet I need but speak one word, and both these qualities are fled for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, Madam, they will have fled before you speak that word,
+unless you pronounce it soon. Speak, I conjure you; or it is not true that you
+are one of that good class of lunatics who claim our pity and respect; you are
+naught else than a common fool. You cannot have what you never possessed.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Mark my words, then. What do you know, who fancy that you know
+enough? That Appiani is wounded? Wounded only? He is dead.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Dead? Dead? Woman, you abide not by your promise. You said you
+would rob me of my reason, but you break my heart.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus much by the way. Now, let me proceed. The bridegroom is
+dead, and the bride, your daughter, worse than dead.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Worse? Worse than dead? Say that she too is dead--for I know
+but one thing worse.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She is not dead; no, good father, she is alive, and will now
+just begin to live indeed; the finest, merriest fool's paradise of a life--as
+long as it lasts.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Say the word, Madam! The single word, which is to deprive me
+of my reason! Out with it! Distil not thus your poison drop by drop. That single
+word at once!</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You yourself shall put the letters of it together. This
+morning the Prince spoke to your daughter at church; this afternoon he has her
+at his----his summer-palace.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Spoke to her at church? The Prince to my daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With such familiarity and such fervour. Their agreement was
+about no trifling matter; and if they did agree, all the better: all the better
+if your daughter made this her voluntary asylum. You understand--and in that
+case this is no forcible seduction, but only a trifling--trifling assassination.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Calumny! Infamous calumny! I know my daughter. If there be
+murder here, there is seduction also, (<i>Looks wildly round, stamping and
+foaming</i>.) Now, Claudia! Now, fond mother! Have we not lived to see a day of
+joy? Oh, the gracious Prince! Oh, the mighty honour!</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Have I roused thee, old man?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here I stand before the robber's cave. (<i>Throws his coat
+back on both sides, and perceives he has no weapon</i>.) 'Tis a marvel that, in
+my haste, I have not forgotten my hands too. (<i>Feeling in all his pockets</i>.)
+Nothing, nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! I understand, and can assist you. I have brought one. (<i>Produces
+a dagger</i>.) There! Take it, take it quickly, ere any one observes us. I have
+something else, too--poison--but that is for women, not for men. Take this (<i>forcing
+the dagger upon him</i>), take it.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I thank thee. Dear child, whosoever again asserts thou art a
+lunatic, he shall answer it to me.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Conceal it, instantly. (<span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>hides the dagger</i>.) The
+opportunity for using it is denied to me. You will not fail to find one, and you
+will seize the first that comes, if you are a man. I am but a woman, yet I came
+hither resolute. We, old man, can trust each other, for we are both injured, and
+by the same seducer. Oh, if you knew how preposterously, how inexpressibly, how
+incomprehensibly, I have been injured by him, you would almost forget his
+conduct towards yourself. Do you know me? I am Orsina, the deluded, forsaken
+Orsina--perhaps forsaken only for your daughter. But how is she to blame? Soon
+she also will be forsaken; then another, another, and another. Ha! (<i>As if in
+rapture</i>) What a celestial thought! When all who have been victims of his
+arts shall form a band, and we shall be converted into Mĉnads, into furies; what
+transport will it be to tear him piecemeal, limb from limb, to wallow through
+his entrails, and wrench from its seat the traitor's heart--that heart which he
+promised to bestow on each, and gave to none. Ha! that indeed will be a glorious
+revelry!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Claudia, Odoardo, Orsina</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Claudia</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>looks round, and as soon as she espies her husband, runs towards
+him</i>.)</span></h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I was right. Our protector, our deliverer! Are you really
+here? Do I indeed behold you, Odoardo? From their whisper and their manner I
+knew it was the case. What shall I say to you, if you are still ignorant? What
+shall I say to you if you already know everything? But we are innocent. I am
+innocent. Your daughter is innocent. Innocent; wholly innocent.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>who, on seeing his wife, has endeavoured to compose himself</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">'Tis well. Be calm, and answer me.--(<i>To </i><span class="sc">Orsina</span>)--Not
+that I doubt your information, Madam. Is the Count dead?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">He is.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is it true that the Prince spoke this morning to Emilia, at
+the church?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is; but if you knew how much she was alarmed--with what
+terror she rushed home.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, was my information false?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>with a bitter laugh</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I would not that it were! For worlds I would not that it were!</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Am I a lunatic?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>wildly pacing the apartment</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh!--nor as yet am I.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You commanded me to be calm, and I obeyed--My dear husband,
+may I--may I entreat----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do you mean? Am I not calm? Who can be calmer than I? (<i>Putting
+restraint upon himself</i>.) Does Emilia know that Appiani is dead?</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She cannot know it, but I fear that she suspects it, because
+he does not appear.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And she weeps and sobs.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No more. That is over, like her nature, which you know. She is
+the most timid, yet the most resolute of her sex; incapable of governing her
+first emotions, but upon the least reflection calm and prepared for all. She
+keeps the Prince at a distance--she speaks to him in a tone----Let us, dear
+Odoardo, depart immediately.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I came on horseback hither. What is to be done? You, Madam,
+will probably return to town?</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Immediately.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">May I request you to take my wife with you.</p>
+
+<h3>ORSINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With pleasure.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Claudia, this is the Countess Orsina, a lady of sound sense,
+my friend and benefactress. Accompany her to town, and send our carriage hither
+instantly. Emilia must not return to Guastalla. She shall go with me.</p>
+
+<h3>CLAUDIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But--if only--I am unwilling to part from the child.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Is not her father here? I shall be admitted at last. Do not
+delay! Come, my lady. (<i>Apart to her</i>.) You shall hear from me.--Come,
+Claudia. (<i>Exeunt</i>.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2> ACT V.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>As before</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Prince, Marinelli</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">From this window your Highness may observe him. He is walking
+to and fro under the arcade. Now he turns this way. He comes; no, he turns
+again. He has not yet altogether made up his mind; but is much calmer, or at
+least appears so. To us this is unimportant. He will scarcely dare utter the
+suspicions which these women have expressed! Battista says that he desired his
+wife to send the carriage hither as soon as she should reach the town, for he
+came hither on horseback. Mark my words. When he appears before your Highness,
+he will humbly return thanks for the gracious protection which you were pleased
+to afford to his family, will recommend himself and his daughter to your further
+favour, quietly take her to town, and with perfect submission await the further
+interest which your Highness may think proper to take in the welfare of his
+child.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But should he not be so resigned--and I scarcely think he
+will, I know him too well to expect it--he may, perhaps, conceal his suspicions,
+and suppress his indignation; but instead of conducting Emilia to town, he may
+take her away and keep her with himself, or place her in some cloister beyond my
+dominions. What then?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Love's fears are farsighted. But he will not.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, if he were to do it, what would the death of the
+unfortunate Count avail us?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why this gloomy supposition? &quot;Forward!&quot; shouts the victor, and
+asks not who falls near him--friend or foe. Yet if the old churl should act as
+you fear, prince--(<i>After some consideration</i>) I have it. His wish shall
+prove the end of his success. I'll mar his plan. But we must not lose sight of
+him. (<i>Walks again to the window</i>.) He had almost surprised us. He comes.
+Let us withdraw awhile, and in the meanwhile, Prince, you shall hear how we can
+elude the evil you apprehend.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>in a threatening tone</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But, Marinelli----</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The most innocent thing in the world. (<i>Exeunt</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Still no one here? 'Tis well. They allow me time to get still
+cooler. A lucky chance. Nothing is more unseemly than a hoary-headed man
+transported with the rage of youth. So I have often thought, yet I have suffered
+myself to be aroused----by whom? By a woman whom jealousy had driven to
+distraction. What has injured virtue to do with the revenge of vice? I have but
+to save the former. And thy cause, my son--my son----I could never weep, and
+will not learn the lesson now. There is another, who will avenge thy cause.
+Sufficient for me that thy murderer shall not enjoy the fruit of his crime. May
+this torment him more than even the crime itself; and when at length loathsome
+satiety shall drive him from one excess to another, may the recollection of
+having failed in this poison the enjoyment of all! In every dream may the bride
+appear to him, led to his bedside by the murdered bridegroom; and when, in spite
+of this, he stretches forth his sinful arms to seize the prize, may he suddenly
+hear the derisive laughter of hell echo in his ears, and so awake.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Marinelli, Odoardo</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">We have been looking for you, Sir.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Has my daughter been here?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">No; the Prince.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I beg his pardon. I have been conducting the Countess to her
+carriage.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A good lady!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And where is your lady?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She accompanied the Countess that she might send my carriage
+hither. I would request the Prince to let me stay with my daughter till it
+arrives.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why this ceremony? The Prince would have felt pleasure in
+conducting your daughter and her mother to town.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My daughter at least would have been obliged to decline that
+honour.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why so?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She will not go to Guastalla again.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! Why not?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Count Appiani is dead.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">For that very reason----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She must go with me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With you?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">With me.--I tell you the Count is dead--though she may not
+know it. What therefore has she to do in Guastalla? She must go with me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The future residence of the lady must certainly depend upon
+her father--but at present----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well? What?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">At present, sir, you will, I hope, allow her to be conveyed to
+Guastalla.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My daughter, conveyed to Guastalla? Why so?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why! Consider----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>incensed</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Consider! consider! consider that there is nothing to
+consider. She must and shall go with me.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">We need have no contention on the subject, sir. I may be
+mistaken. What I think necessary may not be so. The Prince is the best
+judge--he, therefore, will decide. I go to bring him to you.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Odoardo</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How? Never! Prescribe to me whether she shall go! Withhold her
+from me! Who will do this?--Who dares attempt it?--He, who dares here do
+anything he pleases?----'Tis well, 'tis well. Then shall he see how much I, too,
+dare, and whether I have not already dared. Short-sighted voluptuary! I defy
+thee.--He who regards no law is as independent as he who is subject to no law.
+Knowest thou not this? Come on, come on----But what am I saying? My temper once
+more overpowers my reason. What do I want? I should first know why I rave. What
+will not a courtier assert? Better had I allowed him to proceed. I should have
+heard his pretext for conveying my daughter to Guastalla, and I could have
+prepared a proper reply. But can I need a reply!--Should one fail
+me--should----I hear footsteps. I will be calm.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">My dear worthy Galotti.--Was such an accident necessary to
+bring you to your Prince? Nothing less would have sufficed--but I do not mean to
+reproach you.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your Highness, I have ever thought it unbecoming to press into
+the presence of my Prince. He will send for those whom he wants. Even now I ask
+your pardon----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Would that many, whom I know, possessed this modest
+pride!--But to the subject. You are, doubtless, anxious to see your daughter.
+She is again alarmed on account of her dear mother's sudden departure. And why
+should she have departed? I only waited till the terrors of the lovely Emilia
+were completely removed, and then I should have conveyed both the ladies in
+triumph to town. Your arrival has diminished by half the pleasure of this
+triumph; but I will not entirely resign it.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your Highness honours me too much. Allow me to spare my
+unfortunate child the various mortifications, which friendship and enmity,
+compassion and malicious pleasure, prepare for her in town.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Of the sweet comforts, which the friendly and compassionate
+bestow, it would be cruelty to deprive her; but against all the mortifications
+of enmity and malice, believe me, I will guard her, dear Galotti.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince, paternal love is jealous of its duties. I think I know
+what alone suits my daughter in her present situation. Retirement from the
+world--a cloister as soon as possible.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A cloister?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Till then, let her weep under the protection of her father.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Shall so much beauty wither in a cloister?----Should one
+disappointed hope embitter one against the world?--But as you please. No one has
+a right to dictate to a parent. Take your daughter wherever you think proper,
+Galotti.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Do you hear, my lord?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nay, if you call upon me to speak----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">By no means, by no means.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What has happened between you two?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing, your Highness, nothing. We were only settling which
+of us had been deceived in your Highness.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How so?--Speak, Marinelli.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am sorry to interfere with the condescension of my Prince,
+but friendship commands that I should make an appeal to him as judge.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What friendship?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Your Highness knows how sincerely I was attached to Count
+Appiani--how our souls were interwoven----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Does his Highness know that? Then you are indeed the only one
+who does know it.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Appointed his avenger by himself----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ask your wife. The name of Marinelli was the last word of the
+dying Count, and was uttered in such a tone----Oh may that dreadful tone sound
+in my ears for ever, if I do not strain every nerve to discover and to punish
+his murderers!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Rely upon my utmost aid.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And upon my most fervent wishes. All this is well. But what
+further?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That I, too, want to know, Marinelli.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is suspected that the Count was not attacked by robbers----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>with a sneer</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But that a rival hired assassins to despatch him.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>bitterly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed! A rival?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Exactly.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Well then--May damnation overtake the vile assassin!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A rival--a favoured rival too.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How? Favoured? What say you?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing but what fame reports.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Favoured? favoured by my daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Certainly not. That cannot be. Were you to say it I would
+contradict it. But, on this account, your Highness, though no prejudice, however
+well-grounded, can be of any weight in the scale of justice, it will,
+nevertheless, be absolutely necessary that the unfortunate lady should be
+examined.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">True--undoubtedly.</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And where can this be done but in Guastalla?</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There you are right, Marinelli, there you are right.--This
+alters the affair, dear Galotti. Is it not so. You yourself must see----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes! I see----what I see. O God! O God!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What now? What is the matter?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am only angry with myself for not having foreseen what I now
+perceive. Well, then--she shall return to Guastalla. I will take her to her
+mother, and till she has been acquitted, after the most rigid examination, I
+myself will not leave Guastalla. For who knows--(<i>with a bitter smile of irony</i>)--who
+knows whether the court of justice may not think it necessary to examine me?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It is very possible. In such cases justice rather does too
+much than too little. I therefore even fear----</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What? What do you fear?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That the mother and daughter will not, at present, be suffered
+to confer together.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not confer together?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It will be necessary to keep mother and daughter apart.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">To keep mother and daughter apart?</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The mother, the daughter, and the father. The forms of the
+court absolutely enjoin this caution; and I assure your Highness that it pains
+me that I must enforce the necessity of at least placing Emilia in strict
+security.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In strict security!--Oh, Prince, Prince!--Butyes--right!--of
+course, of course! In strict security! Is it not so, Prince? Oh! justice! oh
+justice is a fine thing! Excellent! (<i>Hastily puts his hand into the pocket in
+which he had concealed the dagger</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>in a soothing tone</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Compose yourself, dear Galotti.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside, drawing his hand, without the dagger, from his pocket</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There spoke his guardian angel.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">You are mistaken. You do not understand him. You think,
+perhaps, by security is meant a prison and a dungeon.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Let me think so, and I shall be at ease.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not a word of imprisonment, Marinelli. The rigour of the law
+may easily be combined with the respect due to unblemished virtue. If Emilia
+must be placed in proper custody, I know the most proper situation for her--my
+chancellor's house. No opposition, Marinelli. Thither I will myself convey her,
+and place her under the protection of one of the worthiest of ladies, who shall
+be answerable for her safety. You go too far, Marinelli, you go too far, if you
+require more. Of course, Galotti, you know my chancellor Grimaldi and his wife?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Undoubtedly I do. I also know the amiable daughters of this
+noble pair. Who does not know them? (<i>To </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>).--No, my lord--do not
+agree to this. If my daughter must be confined, she ought to be confined in the
+deepest dungeon. Insist upon it, I beseech you. Fool that I was to make any
+request. Yes, the good Sybil was right. &quot;They, who under certain circumstances,
+do not lose their intellect, have none to lose.&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not understand you. Dear Galotti, what can I do more? Be
+satisfied, I beseech you. She shall be conveyed to the chancellor's house. I
+myself will convey her thither; and if she be not there treated with the utmost
+respect, my word is of no value. But fear nothing; it is settled. You, Galotti,
+may do as you think proper. You may follow us to Guastalla, or return to
+Sabionetta, as you please. It would be ridiculous to dictate any conduct to you.
+And now, farewell for the present, dear Galotti.--Come, Marinelli. It grows
+late.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>who has been standing in deep meditation</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">--How! May I not even see my daughter, then? May I not even
+see her here? I submit to everything--I approve of everything. A chancellor's
+house is, of course, a sanctuary of virtue. Take my daughter thither, I beseech
+your Highness--nowhere but thither. Yet I would willingly have some previous
+conversation with her. She is still ignorant of the Count's death, and will be
+unable to understand why she is separated from her parents. That I may apprise
+her gently of the one, and console her for this parting----I must see her,
+Prince, I must see her.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Come, then, with us.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Surely the daughter can come to her father. Let us have a
+short conversation here, without witnesses. Send her hither, I beg your
+Highness.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That, too, shall be done. Oh, Galotti, if you would be my
+friend, my guide, my father!</p>
+
+<p class="right">(<i>Exeunt </i><span class="sc">Prince </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>).</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Odoardo</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after a pause, during which his eyes follow the</i>
+                                <span class="sc">Prince</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why not? Most willingly. Ha! ha! ha! (<i>Looks wildly around</i>.)
+Who laughed? By Heaven I believe it was myself. 'Tis well. I will be merry. The
+game is near an end. Thus must it be, or thus. But--(<i>pauses</i>)--how if she
+were in league with him? How if this were the usual deception? How if she were
+not worthy of what I am about to do for her? (<i>Pauses again</i>.) And what am
+I about to do for her? Have I a heart to name it even to myself? A thought comes
+to me--a thought which can be but a thought. Horrible!--I will go. I will not
+wait until she comes. (<i>Raises his eyes towards Heaven</i>.) If she be
+innocent, let Him who plunged her into this abyss, extricate her from it. He
+needs not my hand. I will away. (<i>As he is going he espies </i><span class="sc">Emilia</span>.) Ha!
+'Tis too late. My hand is required--He requires it.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Emilia, Odoardo</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter </i><span class="sc">Emilia</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">How! Ton here, my father? And you alone--without the
+Count--without my mother? So uneasy, too, my father?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And you so much at ease, my daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Why should I not be so, my father? Either all is lost, or
+nothing. To be able to be at ease, and to be obliged to be at ease, do they not
+come to the same thing!</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But what do you suppose to be the case?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That all is lost--therefore that we must be at ease, my
+father.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And you are at ease, because necessity requires it? Who are
+you? A girl; my daughter? Then should the man and the father be ashamed of you.
+But let me hear. What mean you when you say that all is lost?--that Count
+Appiani is dead?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And why is he dead? Why? Ha! It is, then, true, my father--the
+horrible tale is true which I read in my mother's tearful and wild looks. Where
+is my mother? Where has she gone?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">She is gone before us--if we could but follow her.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, the sooner the better. For if the Count be dead--if he was
+doomed to die on that account--Ha! Why do we stay here? Let us fly, my father.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Fly! Where is the necessity? You are in the hands of your
+ravisher, and will there remain.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I remain in his hands?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And alone--without your mother--without me.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I remain alone in his hands? Never, my father--or you are not
+my father. I remain alone in his hands? 'Tis well. Leave me, leave me. I will
+see who can detain me--who can compel me. What human being can compel another?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I thought, my child, you were tranquil.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am so. But what do you call tranquillity?--To lay my hands
+in my lap, and patiently bear what cannot be borne, and suffer what should be
+suffered.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ha! If such be thy thoughts, come to my arms, my daughter. I
+have ever said, that Nature, when forming woman, wished to form her
+master-piece. She erred in that the clay she chose was too plastic. In every
+other respect man is inferior to woman. Ha! If this be thy composure, I
+recognize my daughter again. Come to my arms. Now, mark me. Under the pretence
+of legal examination, the Prince--tears thee (the hellish fool's play!) tears
+thee from our arms, and places thee under the protection of Grimaldi.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Tears me from your arms? Takes me--would tear me--take
+me--would--would----As if we ourselves had no will, father.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">So incensed was I, that I was on the point of drawing forth
+this dagger (<i>produces it</i>), and plunging it into the hearts of both the
+villains.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Heaven forbid it! my father. This life is all the wicked can
+enjoy. Give me, give me the dagger.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Child, it is no bodkin.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">If it were, it would serve as a dagger. 'Twere the same.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What! Is it come to that? Not yet, not yet. Reflect. You have
+but one life to lose, Emilia.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And but one innocence.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Which is proof against all force.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">But not against all seduction. Force! Force! What is that? Who
+may not defy force? What you call force is nothing. Seduction is the only real
+force. I have blood, my father, as youthful and as warm as that of others. I
+have senses too. I cannot pledge myself: I guarantee nothing. I know the house
+of Grimaldi. It is a house of revelry--a single hour spent in that society,
+under the protection of my mother, created such a tumult in my soul, that all
+the rigid exercises of religion could scarcely quell it in whole weeks.
+Religion! And what religion? To avoid no worse snares thousands have leapt into
+the waves, and now are saints. Give me the dagger, then, my father, give it to
+me.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And didst thou but know who armed me with this dagger----</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">That matters not. An unknown friend is not the less a friend.
+Give me the dagger, father, I beseech you.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And if I were to give it you?--what then? There! (<i>He
+presents it</i>)</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">And there! (<i>She seizes it with ardour, and is about to stab
+herself when </i><span class="sc">Odoardo </span><i>wrests it from her</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">See how rash----No; it is not for thy hand.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Tis true; then with this bodkin will I! (<i>she searches for
+one in her hair, and feels the rose in her head</i>). Art thou still there?
+Down, down! thou shouldst not deck the head of one, such as my father wishes me
+to be!</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh! my daughter!</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, my father! if I understand you. But no, you will not do
+it, or why so long delayed. (<i>In a bitter tone, while she plucks the leaves of
+the rose</i>.) In former days there was a father, who, to save his daughter from
+disgrace plunged the first deadly weapon which he saw, into his daughter's
+heart--and thereby gave her life, a second time. But those were deeds of ancient
+times. Such fathers exist not now.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">They do, they do, my daughter (<i>stabs her</i>). God of
+heaven! What have I done? (<i>supports her in his arms as she sinks</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Oh,
+let me kiss this kind parental hand.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo, Emilia</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>entering</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What means this? Is Emilia not well?</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Very well, very well.</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>approaching her</i>.)</span></h3>
+
+<p class="normal">What do I see? Oh, horror!</p>
+
+<h3>MARINELLI.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">I am lost!</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Cruel father, what hast thou done.</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom.
+Said you not so, my daughter?</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not you, my father. I, I myself----</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Not thou my daughter--not thou! Quit not this world with
+falsehood on thy lips. Not thou, my daughter--thy father, thy unfortunate
+father.</p>
+
+<h3>EMILIA.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah!--My father----(<i>Dies in his arms. He lays her gently on
+the floor</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>ODOARDO.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Ascend on high! There, Prince! Does she still charm you? Does
+she still rouse your appetites?--here, weltering in her blood--which cries for
+vengeance against you. (<i>After a pause</i>.) Doubtless you wait to see the end
+of this. You expect, perhaps, that I shall turn the steel against myself, and
+finish the deed like some wretched tragedy. You are mistaken. There! (<i>Throws
+the dagger at his feet</i>.) There lies the blood-stained witness of my crime. I
+go to deliver myself into the hands of justice. I go to meet you as my judge:
+then I shall meet you in another world, before the Judge of all. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>PRINCE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after a pause, during which he surveys the body with a look of
+horror and despair, turns to </i><span class="sc">Marinelli</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Here! Raise her. How! Dost thou hesitate? Wretch! Villain! (<i>Tears
+the dagger from his grasp</i>.) No. Thy blood shall not be mixed with such as
+this. Go: hide thyself for ever. Begone, I say. Oh God! Oh God! Is it not enough
+for the misery of many that monarchs are men? Must devils in disguise become
+their friends?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1><a name="div1Ref_Nathan" href="#div1_Nathan">NATHAN THE WISE.</a></h1>
+<br>
+
+<h2>A DRAMATIC POEM IN FIVE ACTS.</h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Translated by R. Dillon Boylan</i>.)</h3>
+
+<hr class="W20">
+
+<p class="normal">The well-known Goetze Controversy is to be thanked for the
+appearance of this, the longest, and in many respects the most important of
+Lessing's dramatic works. It was written in 1778-9, in reply to some of the
+theological censures of the Hamburg pastor. In 1783, it was first acted at
+Berlin, but it met with little success there or elsewhere, until in 1801, when
+it was introduced on the Weimar stage, by Schiller and Goethe.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONĈ</h2>
+<hr class="W10">
+
+<div style="margin-left:20%">
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Sultan Saladin</span>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Sittah</span>, <i>his Sister</i>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>a rich Jew of Jerusalem</i>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Recha</span>, <i>his adopted Daughter</i>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Daja</span>, <i>a Christian woman living in the Jew's house as</i>
+<span class="sc">Recha's </span><i>companion</i>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><i>A young </i><span class="sc">Knight Templar</span>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">A Dervise</span>.</p>
+<p class="continue"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Patriarch of Jerusalem</span>.</p>
+<p class="continue">A Friar.</p>
+<p class="continue"><i>An </i><span class="sc">Emir </span><i>and several of </i><span class="sc">Saladin's Mamelukes</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The scene is in Jerusalem</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+<h1>NATHAN THE WISE.</h1>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center">&quot;Introite, nam et heic Dii sunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>Apud </i><span class="sc">Gellium</span>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<div style="margin-left: 10%; margin-right:20%">
+<h2>ACT I.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<i>A Hall in Nathan's House</i>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>returning from a journey</i>; <span class="sc">
+Daja</span>, <i>meeting him</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis he! 'Tis Nathan! endless thanks to Heaven</p>
+<p class="t0">That you at last are happily returned.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, Daja! thanks to Heaven! But why at <i>last</i>?</p>
+<p class="t0">Was it my purpose--was it in my power</p>
+<p class="t0">To come back sooner? Babylon from here,</p>
+<p class="t0">As I was forced to take my devious way,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is a long journey of two hundred leagues;</p>
+<p class="t0">And gathering in one's debts is not--at best,</p>
+<p class="t0">A task that expedites a traveller's steps.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O Nathan! what a dire calamity</p>
+<p class="t0">Had, in your absence, nigh befallen us!</p>
+<p class="t0">Your house----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Took fire. I have already heard.</p>
+<p class="t0">God grant I may have learnt the whole that chanced!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Chance saved it, or it had been burnt to ashes.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then, Daja! we had built another house,</p>
+<p class="t0">And a far better----</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">True--ay, true! but Recha</p>
+<p class="t0">Was on the point of perishing amid</p>
+<p class="t0">The flames----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Of perishing? Who saidst thou? Recha?</p>
+<p class="t0">I had not heard of that. I should not then</p>
+<p class="t0">Have needed any house. What! on the point</p>
+<p class="t0">Of perishing? Nay, nay; perchance she's dead--</p>
+<p class="t0">Is burnt alive. Speak, speak the dreadful truth.</p>
+<p class="t0">Kill me, but do not agonize me thus.</p>
+<p class="t0">Tell me at once she's dead.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">And if she were</p>
+<p class="t0">Could you expect to hear it from these lips?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why then alarm me? Recha! O my Recha!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your Recha? Yours?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">And can it ever be</p>
+<p class="t0">That I shall cease to call this child my own?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Is all you have yours by an equal title?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nought by a better. What I else enjoy</p>
+<p class="t0">Are Fortune's gifts, or Nature's. This alone--</p>
+<p class="t0">This treasure do I owe to virtue.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">Nathan!</p>
+<p class="t0">How dearly must I pay for all your goodness!</p>
+<p class="t0">If goodness practised for an end like yours</p>
+<p class="t0">Deserves the name.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">An end like mine! What mean you?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My conscience----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Daja, let me tell you first----</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I say my conscience----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Oh, the gorgeous robe</p>
+<p class="t0">That I have bought for you in Babylon!</p>
+<p class="t0">Costly it is and rare. For Recha's self</p>
+<p class="t0">I have not bought a richer.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">What of that?</p>
+<p class="t0">My conscience can be silent now no more.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I long to witness your delight, to see</p>
+<p class="t0">The bracelets, earrings, and the golden chain</p>
+<p class="t0">Which I selected at Damascus for you.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis always so, you surfeit me with gifts.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Accept them freely, as they are bestowed,</p>
+<p class="t0">And silence!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">Silence! Yes. But who can doubt</p>
+<p class="t0">That you are generosity itself?</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">I'm but a Jew! Daja, confess</p>
+<p class="t0">That I have guessed your thought.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">You know my thoughts</p>
+<p class="t0">Far better.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">Well, be silent!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t5">I am dumb.</p>
+<p class="t0">And henceforth all the evil that may spring</p>
+<p class="t0">From this, which I cannot avert, nor change,</p>
+<p class="t0">Fall on your head.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Let it all fall on me!</p>
+<p class="t0">But where is Recha? What detains her thus?</p>
+<p class="t0">Are you deceiving me? Can she have heard</p>
+<p class="t0">That I am here?
+
+ <h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                     <p class="t3">Yourself must answer that.</p>
+<p class="t0">Terror still palpitates through every nerve,</p>
+<p class="t0">And fancy mingles fire with all her thoughts.</p>
+<p class="t0">In sleep her soul's awake; but when awake,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is wrapt in slumber. Less than mortal now,</p>
+<p class="t0">And now far more than angel, she appears.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Poor child! how frail a thing is human nature!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">She lay this morning with her eyelids closed--</p>
+<p class="t0">One would have thought her dead--when suddenly</p>
+<p class="t0">She started from her couch, and cried, &quot;Hark, hark!</p>
+<p class="t0">Here come my father's camels, and I hear</p>
+<p class="t0">His own sweet voice again!&quot; With that, her eyes</p>
+<p class="t0">Once more she opened, and her arms' support</p>
+<p class="t0">Withdrawn, her head droop'd softly on her pillow.</p>
+<p class="t0">Quickly I hastened forth, and now behold,</p>
+<p class="t0">I find you here. But marvel not at this.</p>
+<p class="t0">Has not her every thought been long engrossed</p>
+<p class="t0">With dreams of you and him?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Of him! What him?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Of him who from the flames preserved her life.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And who was he? Where is he? Name the man</p>
+<p class="t0">Who saved my Recha?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">A young Templar he!</p>
+<p class="t0">Brought hither captive lately, and restored</p>
+<p class="t0">To freedom by the Sultan.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">How? A Templar?</p>
+<p class="t0">A captive, too, and pardoned by the Sultan?</p>
+<p class="t0">Could not my Recha's life have been preserved</p>
+<p class="t0">By some less wondrous miracle? O God!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But for this stranger's help, who risked afresh</p>
+<p class="t0">The life so unexpectedly restored,</p>
+<p class="t0">Recha had surely perished.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Where is he?</p>
+<p class="t0">Where is this noble youth? Where is he, Daja?</p>
+<p class="t0">Oh, lead me to his feet! But you already</p>
+<p class="t0">Have surely lavished on him all the wealth</p>
+<p class="t0">That I had left behind; have given him all--</p>
+<p class="t0">And promised more, much more.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">How could we, Nathan?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why not?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He came we know not whence, he went</p>
+<p class="t0">We know not whither. To the house a stranger,</p>
+<p class="t0">And guided by his ear alone, he rushed</p>
+<p class="t0">With fearless daring through the smoke and flame,</p>
+<p class="t0">His mantle spread before him, till he reached</p>
+<p class="t0">The spot whence issued piercing screams for help.</p>
+<p class="t0">We thought him lost; when, bursting through the fire,</p>
+<p class="t0">He stood before us, bearing in his arms</p>
+<p class="t0">Her almost lifeless form. Unmoved and cold,</p>
+<p class="t0">Deaf to our cries of thanks, he left his prize,</p>
+<p class="t0">Passed through the wondering crowd, and disappeared.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But not for ever, Daja, I would hope.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">For some days after, 'neath yon spreading palms,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which wave above our blest Redeemer's grave,</p>
+<p class="t0">We saw him pacing thoughtful to and fro.</p>
+<p class="t0">With transport I approached to speak my thanks.</p>
+<p class="t0">I pleaded, begged, entreated that for once,</p>
+<p class="t0">Once only, he would see the grateful maid,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who longed to shed at her preserver's feet</p>
+<p class="t0">Her tears of gratitude.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Well?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">All in vain!</p>
+<p class="t0">Deaf to my warmest prayers, he poured on me</p>
+<p class="t0">Such bitter taunts----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">That you withdrew dismayed.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Far otherwise. I sought to meet him daily,</p>
+<p class="t0">And daily heard his harsh insulting words.</p>
+<p class="t0">Much have I borne, and would have borne still more;</p>
+<p class="t0">But lately he has ceased his lonely walk</p>
+<p class="t0">Beneath the spreading palms that shade the grave</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Him who rose from death; and no man knows</p>
+<p class="t0">Where he may now be found. You seem surprised.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I was considering how such a scene</p>
+<p class="t0">Must work upon a mind like Recha's. Scorned</p>
+<p class="t0">By one whom she can never cease to prize;</p>
+<p class="t0">Repelled by one who still attracts her to him.</p>
+<p class="t0">Her head and heart at strife! And long, full long</p>
+<p class="t0">The contest may endure, without the power</p>
+<p class="t0">To say if anger or regret shall triumph.</p>
+<p class="t0">Should neither prove the victor, Fancy then</p>
+<p class="t0">May mingle in the fray, and turn her brain.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then Passion will assume fair Reason's garb,</p>
+<p class="t0">And Reason act like Passion. Fatal change!</p>
+<p class="t0">Such, doubtless, if I know my Recha well,</p>
+<p class="t0">Must be her fate; her mind is now unhinged.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But her illusions are so sweet and holy.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But yet she raves!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">The thought she clings to most,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is that the Templar was no earthly form,</p>
+<p class="t0">But her blest guardian angel, such as she</p>
+<p class="t0">From childhood fancied hovering o'er her path;</p>
+<p class="t0">Who from his veiling cloud, amid the fire</p>
+<p class="t0">Rushed to her aid in her preserver's form.</p>
+<p class="t0">You smile incredulous. Who knows the truth?</p>
+<p class="t0">Permit her to indulge the fond deceit,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which Christian, Jew, and Mussulman alike</p>
+<p class="t0">Agree to own. The illusion is so sweet!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I love it too. But go, good Daja! go,</p>
+<p class="t0">See what she does--if I can speak with her.</p>
+<p class="t0">This guardian angel, wilful and untamed,</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll then seek out--and if he still is pleased</p>
+<p class="t0">To sojourn here a while with us--or still</p>
+<p class="t0">Is pleased to play the knight so boorishly,</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll doubtless find him out and bring him here.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You are too daring, Nathan.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Trust me, Daja!</p>
+<p class="t0">If fond delusion yield to sweeter truth--</p>
+<p class="t0">For human beings ever to their kind</p>
+<p class="t0">Are dearer after all than angels are--</p>
+<p class="t0">You will not censure me, when you perceive</p>
+<p class="t0">Our lov'd enthusiast's mind again restored.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You are so good, and so discerning, Nathan!</p>
+<p class="t0">But see, behold! Yes, here she comes herself.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Recha</span>, <span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>
+and</i> <span class="sc">Daja</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And is it you! your very self, my father?</p>
+<p class="t0">I thought you had but sent your voice before you,</p>
+<p class="t0">Where are you lingering still? What mountains, streams,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or deserts now divide us? Here we are</p>
+<p class="t0">Once more together, face to face, and yet</p>
+<p class="t0">You do not hasten to embrace your Recha!</p>
+<p class="t0">Poor Recha! she was almost burnt alive!</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet she escaped----But do not, do not shudder.</p>
+<p class="t0">It were a dreadful death to die by fire!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My child! my darling child!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Your journey lay</p>
+<p class="t0">Across the Tigris, Jordan, and Euphrates,</p>
+<p class="t0">And many other rivers. 'Till that fire</p>
+<p class="t0">I trembled for your safety, but since then</p>
+<p class="t0">Methinks it were a blessed, happy thing</p>
+<p class="t0">To die by water. But you are not drowned,</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor am I burnt alive. We will rejoice,</p>
+<p class="t0">And thank our God, who bore you on the wings</p>
+<p class="t0">Of unseen angels o'er the treacherous streams,</p>
+<p class="t0">And bade my angel bear me visibly</p>
+<p class="t0">On his white pinion through the raging flames.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>aside</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">On his white pinion! Ha! I see; she means</p>
+<p class="t0">The broad white fluttering mantle of the Templar.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, visibly he bore me through the flames,</p>
+<p class="t0">O'ershadowed by his wings. Thus, face to face,</p>
+<p class="t0">I have beheld an angel--my own angel.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Recha were worthy of so blest a sight.</p>
+<p class="t0">And would not see in him a fairer form</p>
+<p class="t0">Than he would see in her.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>smiling</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Whom would you flatter--</p>
+<p class="t0">The angel, dearest father, or yourself?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And yet methinks, dear Recha, if a man--</p>
+<p class="t0">Just such a man as Nature daily fashions--</p>
+<p class="t0">Had rendered you this service, he had been</p>
+<p class="t0">A very angel to you.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">But he was</p>
+<p class="t0">No angel of that stamp, but true and real.</p>
+<p class="t0">And have I not full often heard you say</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis possible that angels may exist?</p>
+<p class="t0">And how God still works miracles for those</p>
+<p class="t0">Who love Him? And I love Him dearly, father.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And He loves you; and 'tis for such as you</p>
+<p class="t0">That He from all eternity has wrought</p>
+<p class="t0">Such ceaseless wonders daily.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">How I love</p>
+<p class="t0">To hear you thus discourse!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Well, though it sound</p>
+<p class="t0">A thing but natural and common-place</p>
+<p class="t0">That you should by a Templar have been saved,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is it the less a miracle for that?</p>
+<p class="t0">The greatest of all miracles seems this:</p>
+<p class="t0">That real wonders, genuine miracles,</p>
+<p class="t0">Can seem and grow so commonplace to us.</p>
+<p class="t0">Without this universal miracle,</p>
+<p class="t0">Those others would scarce strike a thinking man,</p>
+<p class="t0">Awaking wonder but in children's minds,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who love to stare at strange, unusual things,</p>
+<p class="t0">And hunt for novelty.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Why will you thus</p>
+<p class="t0">With airy subtleties perplex her mind,</p>
+<p class="t0">Already overheated?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Silence, Daja!</p>
+<p class="t0">And was it then no miracle that Recha</p>
+<p class="t0">Should be indebted for her life to one</p>
+<p class="t0">Whom no small miracle preserved himself?</p>
+<p class="t0">Who ever heard before, that Saladin</p>
+<p class="t0">Pardoned a Templar? that a Templar asked it--</p>
+<p class="t0">Hoped it--or for his ransom offered more</p>
+<p class="t0">Than his own sword--belt, or at most his dagger?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That argues for me, father! All this proves</p>
+<p class="t0">That my preserver was no Templar knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">But only seemed so. If no captive Templar</p>
+<p class="t0">Has e'er come hither but to meet his death,</p>
+<p class="t0">And through Jerus'lem cannot wander free,</p>
+<p class="t0">How could I find one, in the night, to save me?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ingenious, truly! Daja, you must speak.</p>
+<p class="t0">Doubtless, you know still more about this knight;</p>
+<p class="t0">For 'twas from you I learnt he was a prisoner.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis but report indeed, but it is said</p>
+<p class="t0">That Saladin gave freedom to the knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">Moved by the likeness which his features bore</p>
+<p class="t0">To a lost brother whom he dearly loved,</p>
+<p class="t0">Though since his disappearance twenty years</p>
+<p class="t0">Have now elapsed. He fell I know not where,</p>
+<p class="t0">And e'en his very name's a mystery.</p>
+<p class="t0">But the whole tale sounds so incredible,</p>
+<p class="t0">It may be mere invention, pure romance.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And why incredible? Would you reject</p>
+<p class="t0">This story, Daja, as so oft is done,</p>
+<p class="t0">To fix on something more incredible,</p>
+<p class="t0">And credit that? Why should not Saladin,</p>
+<p class="t0">To whom his race are all so dear, have loved</p>
+<p class="t0">In early youth a brother now no more?</p>
+<p class="t0">Since when have features ceased to be alike?</p>
+<p class="t0">Is an impression lost because 'tis old?</p>
+<p class="t0">Will the same cause not work a like effect?</p>
+<p class="t0">What, then, is so incredible? My Daja,</p>
+<p class="t0">This can to you be no great miracle;</p>
+<p class="t0">Or does a wonder only claim belief</p>
+<p class="t0">When it proceeds from you?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">You mock me, Nathan!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, 'tis the very tone you use yourself.</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet, dear Recha, your escape from death</p>
+<p class="t0">Remains no less a miracle</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Him who turns the proud resolves of kings</p>
+<p class="t0">To mockery, or guides them to their end</p>
+<p class="t0">By the most slender threads.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">O father, father!</p>
+<p class="t0">My error is not wilful, if I err.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No, I have ever found you glad to learn.</p>
+<p class="t0">See, then, a forehead vaulted thus or thus,</p>
+<p class="t0">A nose of such a shape, and brows that shade</p>
+<p class="t0">The eye with straighter or with sharper curve,</p>
+<p class="t0">A spot, a mole, a wrinkle, or a line--</p>
+<p class="t0">A nothing--in an European's face,</p>
+<p class="t0">And you are saved in Asia from the flames!</p>
+<p class="t0">Is that no wonder, wonder-seeking folk?</p>
+<p class="t0">What need to summon angels to your aid?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But, Nathan, where's the harm,--if I may speak--</p>
+<p class="t0">In thinking one was rescued by an angel</p>
+<p class="t0">Rather than by a man? Are we not brought</p>
+<p class="t0">Thus nearer to the first mysterious cause</p>
+<p class="t0">Of our life's preservation?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Pride, rank pride!</p>
+<p class="t0">The iron pot would with a silver tongs</p>
+<p class="t0">Be lifted from the furnace, to believe</p>
+<p class="t0">Itself a silver vase! Well! where's the harm?</p>
+<p class="t0">And &quot;where's the good?&quot; I well may ask in turn.</p>
+<p class="t0">Your phrase, &quot;It brings you nearer to the first</p>
+<p class="t0">Mysterious cause!&quot; is nonsense--if 'tis not</p>
+<p class="t0">Rank blasphemy:--it works a certain harm.</p>
+<p class="t0">Attend to me. To him who saved your life,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whether he be an angel or a man,</p>
+<p class="t0">You both--and you especially--should pay</p>
+<p class="t0">Substantial services in just return.</p>
+<p class="t0">Is not this true? Now, what great services</p>
+<p class="t0">Have you the power to render to an angel!</p>
+<p class="t0">To sing his praise--to pour forth sighs and prayers--</p>
+<p class="t0">Dissolve in transports of devotion o'er him--</p>
+<p class="t0">Fast on his vigil, and distribute alms?</p>
+<p class="t0">Mere nothings! for 'tis clear your neighbour gains</p>
+<p class="t0">Far more than he by all this piety.</p>
+<p class="t0">Not by your abstinence will he grow fat,</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor by your alms will he be rendered rich;</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor by your transports is his glory raised,</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor by your faith in him his power increased.</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, is not all this true? But to a man----</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No doubt a man had furnished us with more</p>
+<p class="t0">Occasions to be useful to himself;</p>
+<p class="t0">God knows how willingly we had seized them!</p>
+<p class="t0">But he who saved her life demanded nought;</p>
+<p class="t0">He needed nothing--in himself complete</p>
+<p class="t0">And self--sufficient--as the angels are;</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And when at last he vanished----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">How was that?</p>
+<p class="t0">Did he then vanish? 'Neath yon spreading palms</p>
+<p class="t0">Has he not since been seen? Or have you sought</p>
+<p class="t0">Elsewhere to find him?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">No, in truth we've not.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not sought him, Daja? Cold enthusiasts!</p>
+<p class="t0">See now the harm: suppose your angel stretched</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon a bed of sickness!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Sickness, what!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">A chill creeps over me. I shudder, Daja!</p>
+<p class="t0">My forehead, which till now was warm, becomes</p>
+<p class="t0">As cold as very ice; come, feel it, Daja.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He is a Frank, unused to this hot clime,</p>
+<p class="t0">Young and unpractised in his order's rules,</p>
+<p class="t0">In fastings and in watchings quite untrained.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Sick! sick!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">Your father means 'twere possible.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Friendless and penniless, he may be lying</p>
+<p class="t0">Without the means to purchase aid.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">Alas!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Without advice, or hope, or sympathy,</p>
+<p class="t0">May lie a prey to agony and death.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Where, where?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">And yet for one he never knew--</p>
+<p class="t0">Enough for him it was a human being--</p>
+<p class="t0">He plunged amid the flames and----</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">Spare her, Nathan!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He sought no more to know the being whom</p>
+<p class="t0">He rescued thus--he shunned her very thanks----</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, spare her!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Did not wish to see her more,</p>
+<p class="t0">Unless to save her for the second time--</p>
+<p class="t0">Enough for him that she was human!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">Hold!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He may have nothing to console him dying,</p>
+<p class="t0">Save the remembrance of his deed.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">You kill her!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And you kill him, or might have done at least.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis med'cine that I give, not poison, Recha!</p>
+<p class="t0">But be of better cheer: he lives--perhaps</p>
+<p class="t0">He is not ill.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Indeed? not dead--not ill?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Assuredly not dead--for God rewards</p>
+<p class="t0">Good deeds done here below--rewards them hero.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then go, but ne'er forget how easier far</p>
+<p class="t0">Devout enthusiasm is, than good deeds.</p>
+<p class="t0">How soon our indolence contents itself</p>
+<p class="t0">With pious raptures, ignorant, perhaps,</p>
+<p class="t0">Of their ulterior end, that we may be</p>
+<p class="t0">Exempted from the toil of doing good.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O father! leave your child no more alone.--</p>
+<p class="t0">But may he not have only gone a journey?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Perhaps. But who is yonder Mussulman,</p>
+<p class="t0">Numbering with curious eye my laden camels?</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, do you know him?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                               <p class="t4">Surely your own Dervise.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+            <p class="t1">Your Dervise--your old chess companion.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Al-Hafi do you mean? What!--that Al-Hafi?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No other: now the Sultan's treasurer.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What, old Al-Hafi? Do you dream again?</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet 'tis he himself--he's coming hither.</p>
+<p class="t0">Quick, in with you! What am I now to hear?</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>and the </i><span class="sc">
+Dervise</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay, lift your eyes and wonder.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                          <p class="t5">Is it you?</p>
+<p class="t0">A Dervise so magnificent!</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                  <p class="t4">Why not?</p>
+<p class="t0">Can you make nothing of a Dervise, Nathan?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay, surely, but I've still been wont to think</p>
+<p class="t0">A Dervise--I would say a thorough Dervise--</p>
+<p class="t0">Will ne'er let anything be made of him.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, by the Prophet! though it may be true</p>
+<p class="t0">That I'm no thorough Dervise, yet one must----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0"><i>Must</i>, Hafi! You a Dervise! No man <i>must</i>----</p>
+<p class="t0">And least of all a Dervise.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                     <p class="t5">Nay, he must,</p>
+<p class="t0">When he is much implored and deems it right.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well spoken, Hafi! Let us now embrace.</p>
+<p class="t0">You're still, I trust, my friend.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                          <p class="t6">Why not ask first</p>
+<p class="t0">What has been made of me?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                     <p class="t4">I take my chance,</p>
+<p class="t0">In spite of all that has been made of you.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">May I not be a servant of the state</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose friendship is no longer good for you?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">If you but still possess your Dervise heart</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll run the risk of that. The stately robe</p>
+<p class="t0">Is but your cloak.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                             <p class="t3">And yet it claims some honour.</p>
+<p class="t0">But, tell me truly, at a court of yours</p>
+<p class="t0">What had been Hafi's rank?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t4">A Dervise only--</p>
+<p class="t0">Or, if aught else--perhaps my cook.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                             <p class="t6">Why yes!</p>
+<p class="t0">That I might thus unlearn my native trade,</p>
+<p class="t0">Your cook! why not your butler? But the Sultan--</p>
+<p class="t0">He knows me better--I'm his treasurer.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What, you?--his treasurer?</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                     <p class="t5">Mistake me not,</p>
+<p class="t0">I only bear his lesser purse; his father</p>
+<p class="t0">Still manages the greater, and I am</p>
+<p class="t0">The treasurer of his house.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t5">His house is large!</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Far larger than you think--all needy men</p>
+<p class="t0">Are of his house.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                            <p class="t3">Yet Saladin is such</p>
+<p class="t0">A foe to beggars!</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                            <p class="t3">That he'd root them out,</p>
+<p class="t0">Though he turned beggar in the enterprise.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Bravo! I meant as much.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                  <p class="t4">He's one already.</p>
+<p class="t0">His treasury at sunset every day</p>
+<p class="t0">Is worse than empty; and although the tide</p>
+<p class="t0">Flowed high at morn, 'tis ebb before the noon.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Because it flows through channels such as we</p>
+<p class="t0">Can neither stop nor fill.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                  <p class="t5">You hit the truth.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know it well.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                          <p class="t3">Ah! 'tis an evil case</p>
+<p class="t0">When kings are vultures amid carcases,</p>
+<p class="t0">But ten times worse when they're the carcases</p>
+<p class="t0">Amid the vultures.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                              <p class="t3">Dervise, 'tis not so.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Is that your thought? But, come, what will you give</p>
+<p class="t0">If I resign my office in your favour?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What are your profits?</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                               <p class="t4">Mine? not much; but you</p>
+<p class="t0">Would soon grow rich; for when, as oft occurs,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Sultan's treasury is at an ebb,</p>
+<p class="t0">You might unlock your sluices, pour in gold,</p>
+<p class="t0">And take in form of interest what you please.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And interest on the interest of the interest.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Of course.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                       <p class="t2">Until my capital becomes</p>
+<p class="t0">All interest.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                     <p class="t2">Well! is not the offer tempting?</p>
+<p class="t0">Farewell for ever to our friendship then,</p>
+<p class="t0">For I had counted on you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                  <p class="t4">How so, Hafi?</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I thought you would have helped me to discharge</p>
+<p class="t0">My task with credit; that I should have found</p>
+<p class="t0">Your treasury ready. Ha! you shake your head.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Let us explain. We must distinguish here.</p>
+<p class="t0">To you, Dervise Al-Hafi, all I have</p>
+<p class="t0">Is welcome; but to you, the Defterdar</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Saladin--to that Al-Hafi, who----</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I guessed as much. You ever are as good</p>
+<p class="t0">As you are wise and prudent. Only wait.</p>
+<p class="t0">The two Al-Hafis you distinguish thus</p>
+<p class="t0">Will soon be parted. See, this robe of honour,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which Saladin bestowed, before 'tis worn</p>
+<p class="t0">To rags, and suited to a Dervise back,</p>
+<p class="t0">Will in Jerusalem hang from a nail;</p>
+<p class="t0">Whilst I, upon the Ganges' scorching strand,</p>
+<p class="t0">Barefoot amid my teachers will be found.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That's like yourself!</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                             <p class="t4">Or playing chess with them.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your greatest bliss!</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                               <p class="t4">What do you think seduced me?</p>
+<p class="t0">Hopes of escaping future penury,</p>
+<p class="t0">The pride of acting the rich man to beggars,</p>
+<p class="t0">Would this have metamorphosed all at once</p>
+<p class="t0">The richest beggar to a poor rich man?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+        <p class="t0">&nbsp; &nbsp; But I yielded to a sillier whim.</p>
+<p class="t0">For the first time I felt myself allured</p>
+<p class="t0">By Saladin's kind-hearted, flattering words.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And what were they?</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                                 <p class="t4">He said a beggar's wants</p>
+<p class="t0">Are known but to the poor alone; that they</p>
+<p class="t0">Alone can tell how want should be relieved.</p>
+<p class="t0">&quot;Thy predecessor was too cold,&quot; he said,</p>
+<p class="t0">&quot;Too harsh, and when he gave, 'twas with a frown.</p>
+<p class="t0">He searched each case too strictly, not content</p>
+<p class="t0">To find out want, he would explore the cause,</p>
+<p class="t0">And thus he measured out his niggard alms.</p>
+<p class="t0">Not so wilt thou bestow, and Saladin</p>
+<p class="t0">Will not appear so harshly kind in thee.</p>
+<p class="t0">Thou art not like that choked-up conduit-pipe,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whence in unequal streams the water flows,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which it receives in pure and copious stores.</p>
+<p class="t0">Al-Hafi thinks, Al-Hafi feels like me.&quot;</p>
+<p class="t0">The fowler whistled, and at last the quail</p>
+<p class="t0">Ran to his net. Cheated, and by a cheat?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Hush, Dervise, hush!</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+                               <p class="t4">What! is it not a cheat</p>
+<p class="t0">To grind mankind by hundred thousands thus!</p>
+<p class="t0">Oppress them, plunder, butcher, and torment,</p>
+<p class="t0">And singly play the philanthropic part?</p>
+<p class="t0">Not cheating, to pretend to imitate</p>
+<p class="t0">That heavenly bounty, which in even course</p>
+<p class="t0">Descends alike on desert and on plain,</p>
+<p class="t0">On good and bad, in sunshine and in shower,</p>
+<p class="t0">And not possess the never empty hand</p>
+<p class="t0">Of the Most High! Not cheating----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                                <p class="t6">Dervise, cease!</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, let me speak of cheating of my own,</p>
+<p class="t0">How now? Were it not cheating to seek out</p>
+<p class="t0">The bright side of impostures such as these,</p>
+<p class="t0">That under colour of this brighter side</p>
+<p class="t0">I might take part in them? What say you now?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Fly to your desert quickly. Amongst men</p>
+<p class="t0">I fear you'll soon unlearn to be a man.</p>
+
+<h3>DERVISE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I fear so too. Farewell!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                 <p class="t4">What, so abrupt?</p>
+<p class="t0">Stay, stay, Al-Hafi! Has the desert wings?</p>
+<p class="t0">It will not fly away. Here, stay, Al-Hafi!</p>
+<p class="t0">He's gone; he's gone. I would that I had asked</p>
+<p class="t0">About that Templar; he must know the man.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Daja</span> (<i>rushing in</i>), <span class="sc">
+Nathan</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O Nathan, Nathan!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                              <p class="t3">Well! what now?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                                                <p class="t6">He's there.</p>
+<p class="t0">He shows himself once more.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                                     <p class="t5">Who, Daja--who?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He--he!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+            <p class="t2">Where cannot he be found? But <i>he</i></p>
+<p class="t0">You mean, is, I suppose, the only <i>He</i>.</p>
+<p class="t0">That should not be, were he an angel's self.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Beneath the palms he wanders up and down,</p>
+<p class="t0">And gathers dates.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+                             <p class="t3">And eats them, I suppose,</p>
+<p class="t0">Just as a Templar would.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                              <p class="t4">You mock me, sir!</p>
+<p class="t0">Her eager eye espied him long ago,</p>
+<p class="t0">When scarcely seen amid the distant trees.</p>
+<p class="t0">She watches him intently, and implores</p>
+<p class="t0">That you will go to him without delay.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then go, and from the window she will mark</p>
+<p class="t0">Which way his paces tend. Go, go; make haste!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What! thus, as I alighted from my camel?</p>
+<p class="t0">Would that be seemly? But do you accost him;</p>
+<p class="t0">Tell him of my return. I do not doubt</p>
+<p class="t0">You'll find the honest man forbore our house</p>
+<p class="t0">Because the host was absent. He'll accept</p>
+<p class="t0">A father's invitation. Say I ask him,</p>
+<p class="t0">I heartily request him.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                             <p class="t4">All in vain!</p>
+<p class="t0">In short, he will not visit any Jew.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then use your best endeavours to detain him,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or, with unerring eye, observe his steps,</p>
+<p class="t0">And mark him well. Go, I shall not be long.
+
+<p class="right">(<span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>enters the house</i>. <span class="sc">
+Daja </span><i>retires</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Place of Palms. The</i> <span class="sc">Templar</span>, <i>
+walking to and fro; a </i><span class="sc">Friar</span>,
+<i>following him at some distance, as if desirous of addressing him</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It cannot be for pastime that this man</p>
+<p class="t0">Follows me thus. See how he eyes my hands!</p>
+<p class="t0">Good brother--or, perhaps I should say, father!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No, brother; a lay brother, at your service.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, brother, then, if I had anything--</p>
+<p class="t0">But truly I have nothing----</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t5">Thanks the same!</p>
+<p class="t0">God will reward your purpose thousandfold.</p>
+<p class="t0">The will and not the deed perfects the giver.</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor was I sent to follow you for alms.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Sent?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+            <p class="t2">From the convent.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                   <p class="t5">Where I even now</p>
+<p class="t0">Was hoping to partake a pilgrim's fare.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis meal--time now, the tables all are full;</p>
+<p class="t0">But if it please you, we will turn together.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No matter, though I have not tasted meat</p>
+<p class="t0">For many days; these dates, you see, are ripe.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Be sparing of that fruit, sir, for too much</p>
+<p class="t0">Is hurtful, sours the blood, and makes one sad.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And what if sadness suits me? Though, methinks,</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twas not to give this warning that you came.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, no! my mission was to question you--</p>
+<p class="t0">To feel your pulse a little.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                   <p class="t5">And you tell</p>
+<p class="t0">This tale yourself?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                        <p class="t3">Why not?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                 <p class="t5">An artful soul! (<i>aside</i>).</p>
+<p class="t0">And has the convent many more like you?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know not. Mere obedience is my duty.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And you obey without much questioning.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Could it be rightly termed obedience else?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The simple mind is ever in the right.--(<i>aside</i>).</p>
+<p class="t0">But will you not inform me who it is</p>
+<p class="t0">That wishes to know more of me? Not you,</p>
+<p class="t0">I dare be sworn.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                        <p class="t3">Would such a wish become</p>
+<p class="t0">Or profit me?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                       <p class="t3">Whom would it then become</p>
+<p class="t0">Or profit to be thus inquisitive?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Perhaps the Patriarch--'twas he that sent.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The Patriarch? and does he know my badge</p>
+<p class="t0">So ill?--The red cross on the snow-white robe.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why? I know that.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                  <p class="t3">Well, brother, hear me out.</p>
+<p class="t0">I am a Templar--and a prisoner now.</p>
+<p class="t0">Made captive with some others at Tebnin,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose fortress we had almost ta'en by storm</p>
+<p class="t0">Just as the truce expired. Our hopes had been</p>
+<p class="t0">To threaten Sidon next. Of twenty knights</p>
+<p class="t0">Made prisoners there together, I alone</p>
+<p class="t0">Was pardoned by command of Saladin.</p>
+<p class="t0">The Patriarch now knows what he requires,</p>
+<p class="t0">And more than he requires.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                                     <p class="t5">And yet no more</p>
+<p class="t0">Than he had learned already. He would ask</p>
+<p class="t0">Why you, of all the captives doomed to die,</p>
+<p class="t0">Alone were spared?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                       <p class="t3">Can I myself tell that?</p>
+<p class="t0">Already with bare neck I had knelt down</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon my mantle, to await the stroke,</p>
+<p class="t0">When Saladin with steadfast eye surveys me.</p>
+<p class="t0">Nearer he draws--he makes a sign--they raise me--</p>
+<p class="t0">I am unbound--I would express my thanks--</p>
+<p class="t0">I mark the tear-drop glisten in his eye--</p>
+<p class="t0">We both stand mute--he turns and leaves the spot--</p>
+<p class="t0">I stay. And now, how all this hangs together,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Patriarch must explain.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">The Patriarch thinks</p>
+<p class="t0">That Heaven preserved you for some mighty deed.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Some mighty deed? To rescue from the flames</p>
+<p class="t0">A Jewish maid! To lead to Sinai's mount</p>
+<p class="t0">Bands of inquiring pilgrims--and the like!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The time may come for more important tasks:</p>
+<p class="t0">Perhaps the Patriarch has already planned</p>
+<p class="t0">Some mighty business for you.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                       <p class="t5">Think you so?</p>
+<p class="t0">Has he already given you a hint?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes--but my task is first to sift a little,</p>
+<p class="t0">To see if you are one to undertake----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well--sift away? (We'll see how this man sifts).</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The better course will be to name at once</p>
+<p class="t0">What is the Patriarch's desire.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">It is----?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To make you bearer of a letter.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                       <p class="t5">Me?</p>
+<p class="t0">I am no carrier. Is that the office</p>
+<p class="t0">More meritorious than to save from death</p>
+<p class="t0">A Jewish maid?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                    <p class="t3">So, truly, it would seem.</p>
+<p class="t0">The Patriarch says that this little note</p>
+<p class="t0">Involves the general weal of Christendom,</p>
+<p class="t0">And that to bear it to its destined hand,</p>
+<p class="t0">Safely, will merit a peculiar crown</p>
+<p class="t0">From Heaven--and of that crown, the Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">Says none can worthier be than you.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t6">Than I!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You have your liberty--can look around;</p>
+<p class="t0">You understand how cities may be stormed,</p>
+<p class="t0">And how defended, says the Patriarch;</p>
+<p class="t0">You know the strength and weakness of the towers,</p>
+<p class="t0">And of the inner rampart lately reared</p>
+<p class="t0">By Saladin, and you could point out all</p>
+<p class="t0">To the Lord's champions fully.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                      <p class="t5">May I know</p>
+<p class="t0">Exactly the contents of this same letter?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Of that I am not quite informed myself.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis to King Philip; and our Patriarch--</p>
+<p class="t0">I often wonder how that holy man,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose every thought would seem absorbed by Heaven,</p>
+<p class="t0">Can stoop to earthly things, and how his mind</p>
+<p class="t0">Can be so deeply skilled in human lore----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, then, your Patriarch----</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                                          <p class="t5">Exactly knows</p>
+<p class="t0">From secret sources, how, and with what force,</p>
+<p class="t0">And in what quarter, should the war break out,</p>
+<p class="t0">The foe and Saladin will take the field.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+   <p class="t0">Knows he so much?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                        <p class="t3">Ay, truly! and he longs</p>
+<p class="t0">To send the urgent tidings to King Philip,</p>
+<p class="t0">That he may better calculate if now</p>
+<p class="t0">The danger be so great, as to demand</p>
+<p class="t0">At every hazard that he should renew</p>
+<p class="t0">The truce so boldly broken by the Templars.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The noble Patriarch! He seeks in me</p>
+<p class="t0">No common herald, but the meanest spy.</p>
+<p class="t0">Therefore, good brother, tell your Patriarch,</p>
+<p class="t0">That I am not--as far as you can sift--</p>
+<p class="t0">The man to suit his ends. I hold myself</p>
+<p class="t0">A captive still. I know a Templar's duty:</p>
+<p class="t0">Ready to die, not live to play the spy.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I thought as much. Nor can I censure you</p>
+<p class="t0">For your resolve. The best has still to come.</p>
+<p class="t0">Our Patriarch has learnt the very fort,</p>
+<p class="t0">Its name, its strength, its site on Lebanon,</p>
+<p class="t0">Wherein those countless treasures are concealed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Wherewith the Sultan's prudent father pays</p>
+<p class="t0">His troops, and all the heavy costs of war.</p>
+<p class="t0">He knows that Saladin, from time to time,</p>
+<p class="t0">Visits this fortress, by some secret way,</p>
+<p class="t0">With but a few attendants.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                       <p class="t5">Well! what then?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Twould be an easy task, methinks, to seize</p>
+<p class="t0">The Sultan thus defenceless--and to end him.</p>
+<p class="t0">You shudder, knight! Two monks who fear the Lord,</p>
+<p class="t0">Are ready now to undertake the task,</p>
+<p class="t0">And wait a leader.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                           <p class="t4">And the Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">Has pitched on me to do this noble deed?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He thinks King Philip might from Ptolemais</p>
+<p class="t0">Give aid in the design.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                           <p class="t4">Has pitched on me!</p>
+<p class="t0">On me!--Say, brother, have you never heard</p>
+<p class="t0">The boundless debt I owe to Saladin?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Truly I have.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                        <p class="t3">And yet----</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                                          <p class="t6">The Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">Says that is very well; but yet your order,</p>
+<p class="t0">And vows to God----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                 <p class="t4">Change nothing; they command</p>
+<p class="t0">No villainy.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+               <p class="t2">No. But the Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">Says what seems villainy to human eyes,</p>
+<p class="t0">May not appear so in the sight of God.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Brother, I owe my life to Saladin,</p>
+<p class="t0">And his shall my hand take?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t5">Oh, no!--But yet</p>
+<p class="t0">The Patriarch maintains that Saladin,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who is the common foe of Christendom,</p>
+<p class="t0">Can never have a claim to be your friend.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My friend? forsooth! because I will not be</p>
+<p class="t0">A thankless wretch to him!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t5">'Tis so!--But yet</p>
+<p class="t0">The Patriarch thinks gratitude is not</p>
+<p class="t0">Before the eyes of God or man, a debt,</p>
+<p class="t0">Unless, for our own sakes, some benefit</p>
+<p class="t0">Has been conferred; and, says the Patriarch,</p>
+<p class="t0">It is affirmed the Sultan spared your life</p>
+<p class="t0">Merely because your voice, your look, your air,</p>
+<p class="t0">Awoke a recollection of his brother----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He knows all this, and yet?----Ah, were it true!</p>
+<p class="t0">And, Saladin, could Nature form in me</p>
+<p class="t0">A single feature in thy brother's likeness,</p>
+<p class="t0">With nothing in my soul to answer it?</p>
+<p class="t0">Or what does correspond, shall I belie</p>
+<p class="t0">To please a Patriarch? No, surely Nature</p>
+<p class="t0">Could never lie so basely! Nor, kind God,</p>
+<p class="t0">Couldst thou so contradict Thyself! Go, brother,</p>
+<p class="t0">And do not rouse my anger.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+                                         <p class="t5">I withdraw</p>
+<p class="t0">More gladly than I came. And, pardon me:</p>
+<p class="t0">A monk's first duty, sir, is to obey.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>The</i> <span class="sc">Templar </span><i>
+and </i><span class="sc">Daja</span>.</span></h3>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>She has been watching him from afar and now approaches</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Methinks the monk left him in no good mood,</p>
+<p class="t0">But, spite of that, I must my errand risk.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">This hits exactly. As the proverb goes,</p>
+<p class="t0">Women and monks are ever Satan's tools,</p>
+<p class="t0">And I to-day am subject to them both.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Whom do I see? Thank God, our noble knight.</p>
+<p class="t0">Where have you been so long? Not ill, I hope?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+      <p class="t1">In good health?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                             <p class="t4">Yes.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                                   <p class="t5">We have all been grieved</p>
+<p class="t0">Lest something should have ailed you. Have you been</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon a journey?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                        <p class="t3">Fairly guessed.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                                          <p class="t6">Since when</p>
+<p class="t0">Have you returned to us?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                  <p class="t4">Since yesterday.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Our Recha's father, too, is just returned,</p>
+<p class="t0">And now may Recha hope at last.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                         <p class="t6">For what?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">For what she has so often asked in vain.</p>
+<p class="t0">Her father pressingly invites you too.</p>
+<p class="t0">He lately has arrived from Babylon</p>
+<p class="t0">With twenty camels, bearing precious stones,</p>
+<p class="t0">And stuffs and fragrant spices, which he sought</p>
+<p class="t0">In India, Persia, Syria, and China.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I am no merchant.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                        <p class="t4">He is much esteemed</p>
+<p class="t0">By all his nation--honoured as a prince--</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet to hear how he is named by all</p>
+<p class="t0">Nathan <i>the Wise</i>, and not <i>the Rich</i>, seems strange.</p>
+<p class="t0">It often makes me wonder.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                  <p class="t5">But to them</p>
+<p class="t0">It may be, <i>wise</i> and rich--both mean the same.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It seems to me he should be called <i>the Good</i>,</p>
+<p class="t0">So rich a store of goodness dwells in him.</p>
+<p class="t0">Since he has learned the weighty debt he owes</p>
+<p class="t0">For service done to Recha there is nought</p>
+<p class="t0">He would withhold from you.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                       <p class="t5">Well?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                                                <p class="t7">Try him, sir!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What then? A moment passes soon away.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I had not dwelt with him so many years</p>
+<p class="t0">Were he less kind. I know a Christian's worth,</p>
+<p class="t0">And it was never o'er my cradle sung</p>
+<p class="t0">That I to Palestine should wend my way,</p>
+<p class="t0">Following a husband's steps, to educate</p>
+<p class="t0">A Jewish maid. My husband was a page,</p>
+<p class="t0">A noble page, in Emperor Frederick's court----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">By birth a Swiss, who earned the sorry fame</p>
+<p class="t0">Of drowning in one river with his lord.</p>
+<p class="t0">Woman! how often have you told this tale?</p>
+<p class="t0">When will you cease to persecute me thus?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To persecute you!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                    <p class="t3">Ay, to persecute!</p>
+<p class="t0">Now mark me. I will never see you more,</p>
+<p class="t0">Hear you, nor be reminded of a deed</p>
+<p class="t0">Performed at random. When I think of it,</p>
+<p class="t0">I wonder somewhat, though I ne'er repent.</p>
+<p class="t0">But hear me still. Should such a fatal chance</p>
+<p class="t0">Again occur, you have yourself to blame</p>
+<p class="t0">If I proceed more calmly, question first.</p>
+<p class="t0">And let what's burning, burn.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                                    <p class="t5">Great God forbid!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And now I have a favour to implore.</p>
+<p class="t0">Know me henceforth no more. Grant me this grace,</p>
+<p class="t0">And save me from her father; for with me</p>
+<p class="t0">A Jew's a Jew; a Swabian blunt am I.</p>
+<p class="t0">The image of the maid is now erased</p>
+<p class="t0">Out of my soul--if it was ever there.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But yours remains with her.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                                     <p class="t5">Well, and what then?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who knows? Men are not always what they seem.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">They're seldom better. <span style="letter-spacing:2em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>(<i>Going</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+                              <p class="t4">Stay a little while.</p>
+<p class="t0">What need of haste?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+                              <p class="t4">Woman! forbear to make</p>
+<p class="t0">These palm--trees odious: I have loved their shade.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then go, thou German bear! Yet I must follow him.</p>
+<p class="right">(<i>She follow him at a distance</i>.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT II.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>The Sultan's Palace</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin</span> and <span class="sc">Sittah</span>
+(<i>playing at chess</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Where are your thoughts? How ill you play, dear brother!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not well in truth--and yet I thought----</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                                           <p class="t7">Oh, yes!</p>
+<p class="t0">You're playing well for me; take back that move.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why?
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+            <p class="t1">Don't you see you leave your knight exposed?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay, true!--then so.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                     <p class="t3">And now I take your pawn.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That's true again, dear Sittah! Well, then, check!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That will not help you--I protect my king,</p>
+<p class="t0">And all is safe again.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                                 <p class="t4">Well, out of this</p>
+<p class="t0">Dilemma 'tis not easy to escape.</p>
+<p class="t0">I cannot save the knight.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                                 <p class="t4">I pass him by;</p>
+<p class="t0">I will not take him.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Well, I owe you nothing;</p>
+<p class="t0">The place you gain is better than the piece.
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Perhaps.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">But reckon not without your host;</p>
+<p class="t0">You did not see that move.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                                <p class="t5">Not I, indeed;</p>
+<p class="t0">I did not think you weary of your queen.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My queen!
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                <p class="t2">Well, well! I see that I to-day</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall win my thousand dinars and no more.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why so?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                <p class="t2">Why so? Because designedly</p>
+<p class="t0">You lose the game! You vex me, Saladin!</p>
+<p class="t0">I find no pleasure in a game like this.</p>
+<p class="t0">And even when I lose, I come off well;</p>
+<p class="t0">For, to console me for the games you win,</p>
+<p class="t0">You force me to accept a double stake.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">In that case, then, it may be by design</p>
+<p class="t0">That you have sometimes lost. Is that the truth?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">At least your generosity's to blame</p>
+<p class="t0">That I improve so little in my play.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But we forget the game; come, finish it.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, 'tis my move; now, check to king and queen!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Indeed! I did not see the double check.</p>
+<p class="t0">I lose my queen.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Let's see! Can it be helped?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No, take the queen--I have no luck with her.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Only with her?</p>
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                    <p class="t3">Remove her from the board,</p>
+<p class="t0">I shall not miss her. Now I am right again.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know from lessons which yourself have taught</p>
+<p class="t0">How courteously we should behave to queens.</p>
+<p class="right">(<i>Offering to restore the piece</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Take her or not, I shall not move her more.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why need I take her? Check, and check!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                                                <p class="t7">Go on.</p>
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Check, check, and check again!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                                         <p class="t6">'Tis checkmate now.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Hold!--no, not yet. You may advance the knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">And ward the danger. But 'twill be the same.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.</p>
+<p class="t0">Let him be called, Sittah! You were not wrong.</p>
+<p class="t0">My thoughts were wandering--were not in the game,</p>
+<p class="t0">But who gives us so oft these shapeless bits</p>
+<p class="t0">Of wood? which speak of naught--suggest no thought.</p>
+<p class="t0">Was it with Iman that I've played--Well, well,</p>
+<p class="t0">Ill-luck is ever wont to seek excuse.</p>
+<p class="t0">Not the unmeaning squares or shapeless men</p>
+<p class="t0">Have made me heedless; your dexterity,</p>
+<p class="t0">Your calm, sharp eye, dear Sittah!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                                           <p class="t6">What of that?</p>
+<p class="t0">Is that to blunt the sting of your defeat?</p>
+<p class="t0">Enough--your thoughts were wandering more than mine.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Than yours? What subject could engage your thoughts?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Far different cares than those which trouble you.</p>
+<p class="t0">But, Saladin, say, when shall we again</p>
+<p class="t0">Resume this pleasant pastime?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                                 <p class="t5">Dearest Sittah,</p>
+<p class="t0">This interruption will but whet our zeal.</p>
+<p class="t0">Your thoughts are on the war: well, let it come--</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twas not my arm that first unsheathed the sword;</p>
+<p class="t0">I would have willingly prolonged the truce,</p>
+<p class="t0">And willingly have knit a tender bond,</p>
+<p class="t0">For Sittah's sake, with Richard's noble brother.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How pleased you are, can you but praise your Richard.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">If Richard's sister had but been bestowed</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon our brother Melek, what a house</p>
+<p class="t0">Had then been ours! the best, the happiest</p>
+<p class="t0">The earth could boast. You know I am not slow</p>
+<p class="t0">To praise myself: I'm worthy of my friends.</p>
+<p class="t0">What men these unions would have given us!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Did I not smile at once at your fine dreams?</p>
+<p class="t0">You do not, will not, know the Christian race.</p>
+<p class="t0">It is their pride not to be men, but Christians.</p>
+<p class="t0">The virtue which their founder felt and taught,</p>
+<p class="t0">The charity He mingled with their creed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is valued, not because it is humane,</p>
+<p class="t0">And good, and lovely, but for this alone,</p>
+<p class="t0">That it was Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis well for them He was so good a man,</p>
+<p class="t0">Well that they take His goodness all on trust,</p>
+<p class="t0">And in His virtues put their faith. His virtues!</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis not His virtues, but His name alone</p>
+<p class="t0">They wish to thrust upon us--His mere name,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which they desire should overspread the world,</p>
+<p class="t0">Should swallow up the name of all good men,</p>
+<p class="t0">And put the rest to shame. 'Tis for His name</p>
+<p class="t0">Alone they care.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                    <p class="t3">Else, Sittah, as you say,</p>
+<p class="t0">They would not have required that you and Melek</p>
+<p class="t0">Should be called Christians, ere they suffered you</p>
+<p class="t0">To feel for Christians the pure flame of love.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">As if from Christians, and from them alone,</p>
+<p class="t0">That love can be expected, which the hand</p>
+<p class="t0">Of our Creator gives to man and wife.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Christians believe such vain absurdities,</p>
+<p class="t0">That this may be among them. And yet, Sittah,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Templars, not the Christians, are in this</p>
+<p class="t0">To blame. 'Tis they alone who thwart my plans;</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis they who still hold Acca, pledged to us</p>
+<p class="t0">By treaty as the dower of Richard's sister.</p>
+<p class="t0">And, to maintain their order's interests,</p>
+<p class="t0">They use this cant--the nonsense of the monk.</p>
+<p class="t0">Scarce would they wait until the truce expired</p>
+<p class="t0">To fall upon us. But, go on, good sirs!</p>
+<p class="t0">Would that all else may thrive as well as this!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why, what else troubles you? What other care</p>
+<p class="t0">Have you to struggle with?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                                <p class="t5">That constant grief--</p>
+<p class="t0">I've been to Lebanon, and seen our father.</p>
+<p class="t0">He's full of care.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                     <p class="t4">Alas!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+                              <p class="t5">He must give way.</p>
+<p class="t0">Straitened on every side, no aid, no help,</p>
+<p class="t0">Nothing comes in.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+                        <p class="t3">What ails him, Saladin?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The only thing that I am loth to name,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems,</p>
+<p class="t0">And, when I have it not, so necessary.</p>
+<p class="t0">Where is Al-Hafi? Have they gone for him?</p>
+<p class="t0">Will no one go? Oh, fatal, cursed money!</p>
+<p class="t0">Welcome, Al-Hafi! You are come at last.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Dervise Al-Hafi</span>, <span class="sc">
+Saladin</span>, <i>and </i><span class="sc">Sittah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The gold from Egypt, I suppose, is come.</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, is it much?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  What! have you heard of it?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not I. I thought I should receive it here.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>pacing thoughtfully to and fro</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Sittah has won a thousand dinars, pay them.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Pay without getting. That is worse than nothing!</p>
+<p class="t0">And still to Sittah--once again for chess!</p>
+<p class="t0">But let us see the board; how stands the game?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You grudge me my good fortune?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>examining the board</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">                      Grudge you? When--</p>
+<p class="t0">You know too well----</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>making signs to him</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                     Oh, hush! Al-Hafi, hush!</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>still examining the board</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Don't grudge it to yourself.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                      Al-Hafi, hush!</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And were the white men yours?</p>
+<p class="t5">                                      You gave the check?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis well he does not hear.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 The move is his.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>approaching nearer</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then promise me that I shall have the money.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>still intent upon the board</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You shall receive it as you've always done.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How! are you mad?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       The game's not over yet.</p>
+<p class="t0">You have not lost it, Saladin.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>paying no attention</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                   Oh, yes;</p>
+<p class="t0">Pay down the money.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">                           Pay! here stands the queen.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>still heedless</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">She's of no use; she's lost.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            Do say that I</p>
+<p class="t0">May send and fetch the gold.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>still studying the game</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                Oh, yes! of course.</p>
+<p class="t0">But though the queen be lost, you are not mate.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>dashing down the board</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I say I am. I will be mate.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               If so,</p>
+<p class="t0">Small pains, small gains, say I. So got, so spent.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What is he muttering there?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to</i> Saladin, <i>making a sign meanwhile to</i> Al-Hafi)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                You know him well.</p>
+<p class="t0">He likes entreaties--loves to be implored.</p>
+<p class="t0">Who knows if he be not a little jealous?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, not of thee--not of my sister, surely.</p>
+<p class="t0">What do I hear? Al-Hafi, are you jealous?
+
+ <h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Perhaps I am. I wish I had her head,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or that I were as good as she.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               My brother,</p>
+<p class="t0">He always pays me fairly, and to-day</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll do the same. Let him alone. Now go!</p>
+<p class="t0">Al-Hafi! go! I'll have the money----
+
+ <h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                   No, not I.</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll act this farce no more. He must know soon.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who? what?
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">Al-Hafi! say, is this your promise?</p>
+<p class="t0">Is't thus you keep your word?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                 Could I foresee</p>
+<p class="t0">That it would come to this?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Well, tell me all.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Al-Hafi! I implore you, be discreet.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis very strange; and what can Sittah have</p>
+<p class="t0">So earnestly to sue for, from a stranger--</p>
+<p class="t0">A Dervise--rather than from me, her brother?</p>
+<p class="t0">Al-Hafi, I command you. Dervise, speak.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Let not a trifle touch my brother nearer</p>
+<p class="t0">Than is becoming, for you know that I</p>
+<p class="t0">Have often won as much from you at chess.</p>
+<p class="t0">But as I stand in little need of gold,</p>
+<p class="t0">I've left the money in Al-Hafi's chest,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which is not over full; but never fear,</p>
+<p class="t0">It is not my intention to bestow</p>
+<p class="t0">My wealth on either of you.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Were this all!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Some more such trifles are perhaps unclaimed:</p>
+<p class="t0">My own allowance, which you set apart</p>
+<p class="t0">Has lain some months untouched.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nor is this all.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then tell the whole.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">Whilst we've been waiting for</p>
+<p class="t0">The gold from Egypt, she----</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Nay, hear him not.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not only has had nothing,----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Dearest sister I--</p>
+<p class="t0">But also has been lending it to you?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay! at her sole expense maintained your state.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>embracing her</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">So like my sister!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Who but you, my brother,</p>
+<p class="t0">Could make me rich enough to have the power?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And soon he'll make her once again as poor</p>
+<p class="t0">As he is now.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">I poor! her brother poor!</p>
+<p class="t0">When had I more--when had I less than now?</p>
+<p class="t0">A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and my God!</p>
+<p class="t0">What need I else? and these ne'er can I lack.</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet, Al-Hafi, I could scold you now.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, brother, do not scold. I would that I</p>
+<p class="t0">Could thus also relieve our father's cares!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ah! now my joy has vanished all at once.</p>
+<p class="t0">We can want nothing; but he's destitute.</p>
+<p class="t0">And whilst he wants, we all are poor indeed.</p>
+<p class="t0">What shall I do? From Egypt we can hope</p>
+<p class="t0">For nothing--though God only knows the cause.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis general peace around, and as for me,</p>
+<p class="t0">I could live sparingly, reduce, retrench,</p>
+<p class="t0">If none else suffered; but 'twould not avail.</p>
+<p class="t0">A cloak, a horse, a sword I ne'er can want.</p>
+<p class="t0">As to my God, He is not to be bought.</p>
+<p class="t0">He asks but little, only asks my heart.</p>
+<p class="t0">I had relied, Al-Hafi, on your chest,</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon the surplus there.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          A surplus there!</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, should I not have been impaled or hanged,</p>
+<p class="t0">If I had been detected hoarding up</p>
+<p class="t0">A surplus? Deficits I might have ventured.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, but what next? Could you have found out none</p>
+<p class="t0">To borrow from, but Sittah?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">And would I</p>
+<p class="t0">Have borne it, had another been preferred?</p>
+<p class="t0">I claim that privilege. I am not yet</p>
+<p class="t0">Quite beggared.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                No, not quite. Dear Sittah, this</p>
+<p class="t0">Alone was wanting. But, Al-Hafi, go,</p>
+<p class="t0">Inquire about, take where and what you can;</p>
+<p class="t0">Borrow on promise, contract, anyhow;</p>
+<p class="t0">But, mark me, not from those I have enriched.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twould seem as if I wished to have it back.</p>
+<p class="t0">Go to the covetous. They gladliest lend.</p>
+<p class="t0">They know how well their money thrives with me.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know of none.
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   I recollect just now,</p>
+<p class="t0">I heard, Al-Hafi, of your friend's return.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>starting</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Friend! friend of mine! and who can that be, pray?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your boasted Jew.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   A Jew! and praised by me!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">On whom his God--I think I recollect</p>
+<p class="t0">The very words you used, as touching him--</p>
+<p class="t0">On whom his God, of all the choicest goods</p>
+<p class="t0">Of earth, in full abundance, has bestowed</p>
+<p class="t0">The greatest and the least.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                             What could I mean</p>
+<p class="t0">When I said so?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  The least of good things--wealth.</p>
+<p class="t0">The greatest--wisdom!</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          How! and of a Jew</p>
+<p class="t0">Did I say that?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 Ay, that you did--of Nathan.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, true! of Nathan--yes! He did not now</p>
+<p class="t0">Occur to me. But he's returned at last,</p>
+<p class="t0">Then do not doubt that he's well off. He's called</p>
+<p class="t0">The Wise, the Rich, by all the Jewish folk.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Now more than ever is he named the Rich.</p>
+<p class="t0">The town resounds with news of costly stuffs</p>
+<p class="t0">And priceless treasures he has brought with him.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Is he the Rich once more? Then, do not fear,</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll be the Wise again.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                        What think you? Will</p>
+<p class="t0">You visit him, Al-Hafi?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                       What, to borrow?</p>
+<p class="t0">You know him, surely! Think you he will lend?</p>
+<p class="t0">His very wisdom lies in this--that he</p>
+<p class="t0">Will lend to no one.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Formerly you gave</p>
+<p class="t0">A picture very different of him.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">In case of need he'll lend you merchandise;</p>
+<p class="t0">But money--money--never! He's a Jew,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who has not many equals 'mongst his tribe.</p>
+<p class="t0">He's wise, knows how to live, can play at chess;</p>
+<p class="t0">Excels in evil, too, as well as good.</p>
+<p class="t0">Rely not on him. To the poor, indeed,</p>
+<p class="t0">He vies with Saladin himself in gifts;</p>
+<p class="t0">And if not quite so much, he gives as freely,</p>
+<p class="t0">To Jew, and Christian, and Mahometan--</p>
+<p class="t0">To all alike.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">             And such a man as this----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How comes it, then, I never heard of him?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Can he refuse to lend to Saladin,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who wants for others--never for himself.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay, there peeps out the Jew--the vulgar Jew:</p>
+<p class="t0">Believe me, he is jealous, envious</p>
+<p class="t0">Of generosity. It seems as though</p>
+<p class="t0">To earn God's favour were his special mission.</p>
+<p class="t0">And that he may possess wherewith to give,</p>
+<p class="t0">He never lends. The law he serves, commands</p>
+<p class="t0">That he show mercy, but not complaisance.</p>
+<p class="t0">Thus him has mercy made the rudest churl</p>
+<p class="t0">In all the world. 'Tis true I have not been</p>
+<p class="t0">This long time past on friendly terms with him,</p>
+<p class="t0">But do not think that I would do him wrong,</p>
+<p class="t0">He's good in all things else, but not in that;</p>
+<p class="t0">Therefore I'll go and knock at other doors.</p>
+<p class="t0">I recollect this instant an old Moor,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who's rich and covetous: I'll go to him. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why in such haste, Al-Hafi?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Let him go.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sittah</span>, <span class="sc">Saladin</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He speeds away, as though he would escape.</p>
+<p class="t0">Why so? Is he indeed himself deceived,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or would he now mislead me?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Can I guess?</p>
+<p class="t0">I scarcely know the man of whom you speak,</p>
+<p class="t0">And, for the first time, hear to-day of him.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Can it be possible you know him not</p>
+<p class="t0">Who, it is said, has visited the</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Solomon and David; knows the spell</p>
+<p class="t0">To ope their marble lids, and thence obtain</p>
+<p class="t0">The boundless stores that claim no lesser source.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Were this man's wealth by miracle procured,</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis not at Solomon's or David's tomb</p>
+<p class="t0">That it is found. Mere mortal fools lie there.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Or knaves!--But still his source of opulence</p>
+<p class="t0">Is more productive, more exhaustless than</p>
+<p class="t0">A cave of Mammon.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">               For he trades, I'm told.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">His caravans through every desert toil,</p>
+<p class="t0">His laden camels throng the public roads,</p>
+<p class="t0">His ships in every harbour furl their sails.</p>
+<p class="t0">Al-Hafi long ago has told me this,</p>
+<p class="t0">Adding, with pride, how Nathan gives away,</p>
+<p class="t0">What he esteems it noble to have earned</p>
+<p class="t0">By patient industry, for others' wants;</p>
+<p class="t0">How free from bias is his lofty soul,</p>
+<p class="t0">His heart to every virtue how unlocked,</p>
+<p class="t0">To every lovely feeling how allied!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And yet Al-Hafi spoke with coldness of him.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not coldness, but unwillingness, as if</p>
+<p class="t0">He deemed it dangerous to praise too much,</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet knew not how to blame without a cause.</p>
+<p class="t0">Or can it be, in truth, that e'en the best</p>
+<p class="t0">Amongst a tribe can never quite escape</p>
+<p class="t0">The foibles of their race, and that, in fact,</p>
+<p class="t0">Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan?</p>
+<p class="t0">But come what may, let him be Jew or not,</p>
+<p class="t0">If he be rich, that is enough for me.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You would not, sister, take his--wealth by force?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">By force? What mean you? Fire and sword? Oh, no!</p>
+<p class="t0">What force is necessary with the weak</p>
+<p class="t0">But their own weakness? Come awhile with me,</p>
+<p class="t0">Into my harem. I have bought a songstress</p>
+<p class="t0">You have not heard--she came but yesterday.</p>
+<p class="t0">Meanwhile I'll think upon a subtle plan</p>
+<p class="t0">For this same Nathan. Follow, Saladin!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Place of Palms, near </i><span class="sc">Nathan's </span><i>
+house, from which </i><span class="sc">Recha </span><i>and</i>
+<span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>are coming</i>; <span class="sc">Daja</span>, <i>
+meeting them</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Dear father! you have been so slow, that you</p>
+<p class="t0">Will scarcely meet him now.
+
+ <h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                         Well, well, my child;</p>
+<p class="t0">If not beneath the palms, be sure that we</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall meet him somewhere else. Be satisfied.</p>
+<p class="t0">Is not that Daja whom I see approaching?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">She certainly has lost him.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            Wherefore so?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Her pace were quicker else.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            She has not seen us.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">There, now she spies us.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                           And her speed redoubles.</p>
+<p class="t0">Recha, be calm!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     What! would you have your child</p>
+<p class="t0">Be cold and unconcerned about his fate</p>
+<p class="t0">To whom her life is due?--a life to her</p>
+<p class="t0">But dear because she owed it first to you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I would not wish you other than you are,</p>
+<p class="t0">E'en if I knew that in your secret soul</p>
+<p class="t0">Another and a different feeling throbs.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What means my father?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                         Do you ask of me--</p>
+<p class="t0">So tremblingly of me? What passes now</p>
+<p class="t0">Within your soul is innocence and nature.</p>
+<p class="t0">Nay, fear not, for it gives me no alarm.</p>
+<p class="t0">But promise, if the heart shall ever speak</p>
+<p class="t0">A plainer language, you will not conceal</p>
+<p class="t0">One single of your wishes from my love.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, the bare thought that I should ever wish</p>
+<p class="t0">To hide them from my father, makes me shudder.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Recha, enough of this. Now, what says Daja?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He's still beneath the palms, and presently</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll reach yon wall. See! here he comes at last.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He seems irresolute which way to turn,</p>
+<p class="t0">To left or right!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  His custom is to seek</p>
+<p class="t0">The convent walls, so he will pass this way.</p>
+<p class="t0">What will you wager? Yes, he comes to us.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Right! Did you speak to him? How did he look?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">As usual.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">            Do not let him see you here.</p>
+<p class="t0">Stand farther back, or to the house retire.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Just one look more. Ah! the trees hide him now.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Come, come away! Recha, your father's right.</p>
+<p class="t0">Should he observe us he'll retire at once.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Alas! the trees----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Now he emerges from them.</p>
+<p class="t0">He can't but see you. Hence! I beg of you.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Come, Recha, come! I know a window whence</p>
+<p class="t0">We may observe him better.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">Come, then, come.</p>
+<p class="right">(<i>They both retire</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan</span> (<i>who is presently joined by
+the </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>).</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I almost shrink from meeting this strange fellow--</p>
+<p class="t0">Recoil from his rough virtue! That one man</p>
+<p class="t0">Should ever make another feel confused!</p>
+<p class="t0">But see, he comes! he seems a noble youth;</p>
+<p class="t0">Looks like a man. I like his daring eye,</p>
+<p class="t0">His honest gait. Although the shell is bitter,</p>
+<p class="t0">The kernel may not be so. I have seen</p>
+<p class="t0">One like him somewhere. Pardon, noble Frank----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What would you?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Pardon me----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            What would you, Jew?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The privilege of speaking to you.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                 Well!</p>
+<p class="t0">How can I help it? Quick, then--what's your wish?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Patience! nor pass with such contempt and pride</p>
+<p class="t0">One who must be your debtor evermore.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How so? I almost guess. No; are you then----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My name is Nathan, father to the maid</p>
+<p class="t0">Your generous courage rescued from the flames.</p>
+<p class="t0">I come to----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">            If you come to render thanks,</p>
+<p class="t0">Spare them. I have already been compelled</p>
+<p class="t0">To bear too many thanks for this small act.</p>
+<p class="t0">Besides, you owe me nothing. Could I know</p>
+<p class="t0">The maiden was your daughter? I was bound--</p>
+<p class="t0">It is a Templar's duty--to assist</p>
+<p class="t0">All who need succour; and my life just then</p>
+<p class="t0">Was a mere burden. It was a relief</p>
+<p class="t0">To risk it for another, even though</p>
+<p class="t0">The task were to preserve a Jewess' life.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Great--great yet horrible--I understand</p>
+<p class="t0">The turn. The modest greatness will assume</p>
+<p class="t0">The hideous mask to ward off gratitude.</p>
+<p class="t0">But though he may disdain our proffer'd thanks,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is there no other tribute we can pay?</p>
+<p class="t0">Sir Knight! if you were not a stranger here,</p>
+<p class="t0">And not a pris'ner, I were not so bold.</p>
+<p class="t0">But, come, what service can I render you?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You!--nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  I am rich.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                           The richer Jew</p>
+<p class="t0">Was ne'er in my esteem the better Jew.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Is that a reason why you should not use</p>
+<p class="t0">The better part of him--his wealth?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                         Well, well,</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll not refuse it wholly, for the sake</p>
+<p class="t0">Of my poor mantle; when it is well worn,</p>
+<p class="t0">And spite of darning will not hold together,</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll come and borrow cloth or gold of you,</p>
+<p class="t0">To make a new one. Nay, Sir, do not start;</p>
+<p class="t0">The danger is not pressing--'tis not yet</p>
+<p class="t0">Quite worthless; it is sound, and strong, and good.</p>
+<p class="t0">Save in one corner, where an ugly spot</p>
+<p class="t0">Is singed, and that is from a burn it got</p>
+<p class="t0">When I bore off your daughter from the fire.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>taking hold of the mantle</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis strange, indeed, that such a spot as this</p>
+<p class="t0">Should bear far better witness to the man</p>
+<p class="t0">Than his own lips. This spot! Oh, I could kiss it.</p>
+<p class="t0">Your pardon, Sir, in truth, I meant it not!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">       'Twas a tear that fell.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 Well, 'tis no matter.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis not the first. (This Jew doth puzzle me.)</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Would you but send this mantle to my daughter!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">        That she, too, may press it to her lips;</p>
+<p class="t0">For at her benefactor's feet to fall</p>
+<p class="t0">She now may hope in vain.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            But, Jew, your name?</p>
+<p class="t0">Tis Nathan, is it not? You choose your words</p>
+<p class="t0">With skill--I am confused. I did not think</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Feign, Templar, and dissemble as you may,</p>
+<p class="t0">I see the truth. I see your generous heart,</p>
+<p class="t0">Too honest and too good to be polite.</p>
+<p class="t0">A grateful girl, all feeling, and her maid</p>
+<p class="t0">Swift to obey--a father far from home,</p>
+<p class="t0">You valued her fair fame, and would not see her.</p>
+<p class="t0">You scorned to tempt lest you should victor prove.</p>
+<p class="t0">For this too I must tender you my thanks.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You know at least how Templars <i>ought</i> to feel.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why Templars only? and why ought to feel?</p>
+<p class="t0">Is it because your rules and vows enjoin</p>
+<p class="t0">These duties to <i>your order</i>? Sir, I know</p>
+<p class="t0">How good men all should feel, and know as well</p>
+<p class="t0">That every country can produce good men.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You'll make distinctions?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                         Yes, in colour, form,</p>
+<p class="t0">And dress, perhaps.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                    Ay, and in number too--</p>
+<p class="t0">Here more--there less.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+<p class="t4">The difference is not much.</p>
+<p class="t0">Great men, like trees, have ever need of room;</p>
+<p class="t0">Too many set together only serve</p>
+<p class="t0">To crush each other's boughs. The middling sort,</p>
+<p class="t0">Like us, are found in numbers, they abound;</p>
+<p class="t0">Only let not one scar and bruise the other,</p>
+<p class="t0">Let not the gnarl be angry with the stump,</p>
+<p class="t0">Let not the upper branch alone pretend</p>
+<p class="t0">Not to have started from the common earth.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well said. And yet what nation was the first</p>
+<p class="t0">To scatter discord 'mongst their fellow-men?</p>
+<p class="t0">To claim the title of &quot;the chosen people?&quot;</p>
+<p class="t0">How now if I were not to hate them, but</p>
+<p class="t0">To scorn this upstart nation, for their pride?</p>
+<p class="t0">That pride which it bequeathed to Mussulman</p>
+<p class="t0">And Christian, as if God were theirs alone.</p>
+<p class="t0">You start to hear a Christian and a Templar</p>
+<p class="t0">Talk thus. But when and where has all this rage,</p>
+<p class="t0">This pious rage, to win the better God,</p>
+<p class="t0">And force this better God on all the world,</p>
+<p class="t0">Shown itself more, or in a blacker form,</p>
+<p class="t0">Than here, and now? Who here, who now retains</p>
+<p class="t0">The blinding scales upon his eyes--and yet</p>
+<p class="t0">Let him be blind who will!--forget my words,</p>
+<p class="t0">And leave me (<i>is going</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                Templar! you but little know</p>
+<p class="t0">How closer henceforth I shall cling to you.</p>
+<p class="t0">We must, we must be friends. Despise my people--</p>
+<p class="t0">We did not choose a nation for ourselves.</p>
+<p class="t0">Are we our nation's? What then is a nation?</p>
+<p class="t0">Were Jews or Christians such, ere they were men?</p>
+<p class="t0">Ah! would that I had found in you one man</p>
+<p class="t0">To whom it were enough to be a man.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Thou hast so, Nathan! Yes, by Heaven, thou hast.</p>
+<p class="t0">Thy hand. I blush to have mistaken thee.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Now I feel proud. 'Tis only common souls</p>
+<p class="t0">In whom we seldom err.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        Uncommon ones</p>
+<p class="t0">We do not oft forget. Nathan, we must,</p>
+<p class="t0">We must be friends.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     We are so. And my Recha</p>
+<p class="t0">Will now rejoice. How bright the prospect grows</p>
+<p class="t0">That dawns upon me! If you did but know her.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I grow impatient, Nathan. But who now</p>
+<p class="t0">Comes from your house? Methinks it is your Daja.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, and her look how full of care! God grant----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That nothing may have chanced to our Recha!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Daja</span> (<i>rushing in</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nathan, dear Nathan!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        Well.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               Forgive me, Knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">That I must interrupt you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            What has happened?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The Sultan sends for you--commands you straight</p>
+<p class="t0">To speak with him. Protect us, Heaven! the Sultan!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The Sultan sends for me! He would inspect</p>
+<p class="t0">The goods--the precious wares that I have brought</p>
+<p class="t0">From Persia. Say there's nothing yet unpacked.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No, no; 'tis not to look at anything;</p>
+<p class="t0">He wants to speak to you in person, Nathan,</p>
+<p class="t0">And orders you to come at once.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 I go.</p>
+<p class="t0">Daja, return.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">             Knight, take it not amiss.</p>
+<p class="t0">We were alarmed for what the Sultan might</p>
+<p class="t0">Require of Nathan.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   That I soon shall know. (<i>Exit Daja</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>the </i><span class="sc">
+Templar</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Are you then not acquainted with him yet?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who, Saladin? Not yet. I've neither shunned</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor sought to see him. And the public voice</p>
+<p class="t0">Proclaims his fame so loud, that I could wish</p>
+<p class="t0">Rather to take its language upon trust,</p>
+<p class="t0">Than sift the truth. And yet if it be true</p>
+<p class="t0">That he has spared your life----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                Yes, so it is.</p>
+<p class="t0">The life I live, he gave.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          Then he bestows</p>
+<p class="t0">A double, treble life on me. And thus</p>
+<p class="t0">He flings a bond around me, which secures</p>
+<p class="t0">My duty to his service; and henceforth</p>
+<p class="t0">I burn to know his wishes. Now, for all</p>
+<p class="t0">I am prepared; and further, will confess</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis for your sake alone that I am thus.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Often I've sought to meet him, but as yet</p>
+<p class="t0">Have found no means to render him my thanks.</p>
+<p class="t0">The impress which his mind received of me</p>
+<p class="t0">Was transient, and ere now has disappeared.</p>
+<p class="t0">Who knows if he may still remember me?</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet once more at least he must recall</p>
+<p class="t0">Me to his thoughts--to fix my future lot!</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis not enough that by his gracious will</p>
+<p class="t0">I still have of life; I've yet to learn</p>
+<p class="t0">According to whose will I have to live.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Therefore 'twere well I did not tarry now.</p>
+<p class="t0">Perchance some happy word may give excuse</p>
+<p class="t0">To speak of you. Now, pardon me, farewell!</p>
+<p class="t0">I must away. When shall we meet again?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Whenever 'tis permitted.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                              When you will.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To-day, then.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               And your name?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                                        My name was--is--</p>
+<p class="t0">Conrad of Stauffen.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Conrad of Stauffen! Stauffen!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What is there in my name to wonder at?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">There are more races of that name, no doubt.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, many of the name were here--rot here,</p>
+<p class="t0">My uncle even--I should say my father.</p>
+<p class="t0">But wherefore is your eye so fixed on me?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know not; but I love to look on you.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Therefore I take my leave. The searching eye</p>
+<p class="t0">Will oft discover more than it desires.</p>
+<p class="t0">I fear it, Nathan; so, farewell. Let time,</p>
+<p class="t0">Not curious prying, make us better known. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN (<i>looking after him with astonishment</i>).</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">&quot;The searching eye will oft discover more</p>
+<p class="t0">Than it desires.&quot; As if he read my soul!</p>
+<p class="t0">That, too, may chance to be. 'Tis not alone</p>
+<p class="t0">His walk, his stature, but his very voice!</p>
+<p class="t0">Leonard so bore himself--was even wont</p>
+<p class="t0">To carry thus his sword upon his arm,</p>
+<p class="t0">And thus to shade his eyebrow with his hand,</p>
+<p class="t0">As if to hide the fire that fill'd his look.</p>
+<p class="t0">So deeply graven images may seem</p>
+<p class="t0">At times to lie asleep within the soul,</p>
+<p class="t0">When all at once a single word--a tone--</p>
+<p class="t0">Calls them to life again. Of Stauffen--right--</p>
+<p class="t0">Filnek and Stauffen--I will soon know more.</p>
+<p class="t0">But first to Saladin. Ha! Daja here--</p>
+<p class="t0">And on the watch! Come nearer, Daja, come.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Daja</span>, <span class="sc">Nathan</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, both of you have something more at heart</p>
+<p class="t0">Than to know what the Sultan wants with me.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And you can hardly blame her for it, sir.</p>
+<p class="t0">You were beginning to converse with him</p>
+<p class="t0">More trustingly yourself, when suddenly</p>
+<p class="t0">The Sultan's message drove us from the window.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Go tell her, Daja, she may soon expect</p>
+<p class="t0">A visit from the Templar.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            What! indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I think I may rely upon you, Daja.</p>
+<p class="t0">Be on your guard, I beg, you'll not repent it.</p>
+<p class="t0">Your conscience shall at length be satisfied,</p>
+<p class="t0">But do not mar my plans. Inquire, explain,</p>
+<p class="t0">But with reserve, with fitting modesty.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No need for such advice. I go, I go.</p>
+<p class="t0">And you must follow; for, see, Hafi comes--</p>
+<p class="t0">The Sultan sends a second messenger.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> IX.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <span class="sc">Al-Hafi</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ha! are you there? I have been seeking you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why in such haste? What can he want with me?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">       Saladin. But I am coming quickly.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To whom? To Saladin?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Has he not sent you?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Me? no--but has he sent already?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                               Yes.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then it is so.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     What's so?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   That----I'm not guilty,</p>
+<p class="t0">God knows, I'm not to blame; 'tis not my fault.</p>
+<p class="t0">I've done my best--belied, and slandered you--</p>
+<p class="t0">To save you from it.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">                     Save me? and from what?</p>
+<p class="t0">Be plain.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">            From being made his Defterdar.</p>
+<p class="t0">I pity you--I cannot stay to see it.</p>
+<p class="t0">I fly this hour--you know the road I take.</p>
+<p class="t0">Speak, then, if I can serve you; but your wants</p>
+<p class="t0">Must suit a wretch that's wholly destitute.</p>
+<p class="t0">Quick, what's your pleasure?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            Recollect yourself--</p>
+<p class="t0">Your words are mystery. I know of nothing.</p>
+<p class="t0">What do you mean?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  You'll take your money--bags?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My money--bags!</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Ay, bring your treasures forth--</p>
+<p class="t0">The treasures you must shower on Saladin.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And is that all?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">           Ah! shall I witness it,</p>
+<p class="t0">How, day by day, he'll scoop and pare you down,</p>
+<p class="t0">Till nothing but a hollow, empty shell,</p>
+<p class="t0">A husk as light as film, is left behind.</p>
+<p class="t0">Nathan, you've yet to learn how spendthrift waste</p>
+<p class="t0">From prudent bounty's never empty stores</p>
+<p class="t0">Borrows and borrows, till there's not a crumb</p>
+<p class="t0">Left to keep rats from starving. Do not think</p>
+<p class="t0">That he who wants your gold will heed advice.</p>
+<p class="t0">When has the Sultan listened to advice?</p>
+<p class="t0">Hear what befel me with him.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                Well--go on.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He played just now at chess with Sittah. She</p>
+<p class="t0">Is a keen player. I drew near and watched.</p>
+<p class="t0">The game which Saladin supposed was lost,</p>
+<p class="t0">Stood yet upon the board. He had given in,</p>
+<p class="t0">I marked, and cried, &quot;The game's not lost at all!&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh! what a grand discovery for you.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He needed only to remove his king</p>
+<p class="t0">Behind the castle--and the check was saved.</p>
+<p class="t0">Could I but show you----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        I believe it all!</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then with the castle free, he must have won.</p>
+<p class="t0">I saw it, and I called him to the board.</p>
+<p class="t0">What do you think he did?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                               He doubted you.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not only that--he would not hear a word--</p>
+<p class="t0">And with contempt he overthrew the board.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">          He said he chose it--would be mate.</p>
+<p class="t0">Is that to play the game?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Most surely not.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twas rather playing with the game.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                      And yet</p>
+<p class="t0">The stakes were high.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       A trifle to the Sultan!</p>
+<p class="t0">Money is nought to him. It is not that</p>
+<p class="t0">Which galls, but not to hear Al-Hafi out--</p>
+<p class="t0">Not to admire his comprehensive glance,</p>
+<p class="t0">His eagle eye--'tis that demands revenge.</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, am I right?</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                I only tell this tale</p>
+<p class="t0">That you may know how much his head is worth.</p>
+<p class="t0">But I am weary of him. All the day</p>
+<p class="t0">I am running round to every wretched Moor</p>
+<p class="t0">To borrow--money for him--I who ne'er</p>
+<p class="t0">Ask for myself, am now obliged to sue</p>
+<p class="t0">For others--and, according to my creed,</p>
+<p class="t0">To borrow is to beg, as, when you lend</p>
+<p class="t0">Your money upon usury, you steal.</p>
+<p class="t0">Among my Ghebers on the Ganges' shores</p>
+<p class="t0">I shall need neither; there I shall not be</p>
+<p class="t0">The tool or pimp of any; there alone</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon the Ganges honest men are found.</p>
+<p class="t0">You, Nathan, you alone of all I see</p>
+<p class="t0">Are worthy on the Ganges' banks to live.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then come with me; leave him the wretched gold</p>
+<p class="t0">That he would strip you of--'tis all he wants.</p>
+<p class="t0">Little by little he will ruin you;</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis better to be quit of all at once;</p>
+<p class="t0">Come, then, and I'll provide you with a staff.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, that resource will still remain for us</p>
+<p class="t0">As a last refuge. But I'll think of it.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, ponder not upon a thing like this.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then stay till I have seen the Sultan. Stay</p>
+<p class="t0">Till I have bid farewell.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           The man who stays</p>
+<p class="t0">To hunt for motives, to search reasons out,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who cannot boldly and at once resolve</p>
+<p class="t0">To live a free man's life, must be the slave</p>
+<p class="t0">Of others till his death. But as you please.</p>
+<p class="t0">Farewell! my path is here, and yours is there!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But stay, Al-Hafi! till you have arranged</p>
+<p class="t0">The state accounts.</p>
+
+<h3>AL-HAFI.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Pah! Nathan, there's no need;</p>
+<p class="t0">The balance in the chest is quickly told,</p>
+<p class="t0">And my account, Sittah, or you, will vouch.</p>
+<p class="t0">Farewell! <span style="letter-spacing:4em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>(<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN (<i>looking after him</i>).</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">           Yes, I will vouch it, honest, wild--</p>
+<p class="t0">How shall I call him? Ah! the real beggar</p>
+<p class="t0">Is, after all, the only real king. (<i>Exit at opposite side</i>.)
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT III.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>A room in </i><span class="sc">Nathan's </span><i>
+house</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Recha</span>, <span class="sc">Daja</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, Daja, did my father really say</p>
+<p class="t0">&quot;That I might instantly expect him here?&quot;</p>
+<p class="t0">That surely meant that he would come at once,</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet how many minutes have rolled by!</p>
+<p class="t0">But I'll not dwell upon the moments gone,</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll only live in those that are to come,</p>
+<p class="t0">That one which brings him here must come in time.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But for the Sultan's ill-timed messenger</p>
+<p class="t0">Nathan had brought him hither.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 When he comes--</p>
+<p class="t0">Oh! when this dearest of my inmost hopes</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall be fulfilled--what then--what then?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                          What then?</p>
+<p class="t0">Why then I trust the wish most dear to me</p>
+<p class="t0">Will also be fulfilled.
+
+ <h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      And in its place</p>
+<p class="t0">What wish shall take possession of my breast?</p>
+<p class="t0">Which now forgets to heave, unless it pant</p>
+<p class="t0">With some fond wish? Will nothing come? I shudder!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My wish shall then supplant the one fulfilled,</p>
+<p class="t0">My wish to see you borne to Europe's shores</p>
+<p class="t0">By hands well worthy of you.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 You do err.</p>
+<p class="t0">The very thought which makes you form this wish</p>
+<p class="t0">Forbids it to be mine. Your native land</p>
+<p class="t0">Attracts you, and has mine no charm for me?</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall a remembrance of your cherished home,</p>
+<p class="t0">Your absent kindred and your dearest friends,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which years and distance have not yet effaced,</p>
+<p class="t0">Rule in your soul with softer, mightier sway</p>
+<p class="t0">Than what I know, and hear, and feel of mine.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis vain to struggle, for the ways of Heaven</p>
+<p class="t0">Are still the ways of Heaven. And who can say</p>
+<p class="t0">If he who saved your life may not be doomed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Through his God's arm, for whom he nobly fights.</p>
+<p class="t0">To lead you to that people--to that land</p>
+<p class="t0">To which you should belong by right of birth?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What are you saying, Daja? dearest Daja!</p>
+<p class="t0">Indeed you have some strange and curious thoughts.</p>
+<p class="t0">&quot;<i>His</i> God!&quot; whose God? To whom can God belong,</p>
+<p class="t0">And how can God belong to any man,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or need a human arm to fight his battles?</p>
+<p class="t0">And who, among the scattered clods of earth</p>
+<p class="t0">Can say for which of them himself was born,</p>
+<p class="t0">Unless for that on which he was produced?</p>
+<p class="t0">If Nathan heard thee! How has Nathan sinned,</p>
+<p class="t0">That Daja seeks to paint my happiness</p>
+<p class="t0">So far removed from his? What has he done,</p>
+<p class="t0">That thus amongst the seeds of reason, which</p>
+<p class="t0">He sowed unmixed and pure within my soul,</p>
+<p class="t0">The hand of Daja must for ever seek</p>
+<p class="t0">To plant the weeds, or flowers of her own land?</p>
+<p class="t0">He has no wish to see upon this soil</p>
+<p class="t0">Such rank luxuriant blossoms. I myself</p>
+<p class="t0">Must own I faint beneath the sour--sick odour;</p>
+<p class="t0">Your head is stronger and is used to it.</p>
+<p class="t0">I find no fault with those of stronger nerves</p>
+<p class="t0">Who can support it--mine, alas! give way.</p>
+<p class="t0">Your angel too, how near befool'd was I</p>
+<p class="t0">Through him; I blush whene'er I see my father.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">As if, dear Recha, you alone were wise.</p>
+<p class="t0">Folly! If I might speak----</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                         And may you not?</p>
+<p class="t0">Have I not listened gladly to your tales</p>
+<p class="t0">About the valiant heroes of your faith?</p>
+<p class="t0">Have I not freely on their deeds bestowed</p>
+<p class="t0">My admiration--to their sufferings given</p>
+<p class="t0">The tribute of my tears? Their faith, 'tis true,</p>
+<p class="t0">Has never seemed to me their noblest boast,</p>
+<p class="t0">But, therefore, Daja, I have only learnt</p>
+<p class="t0">To find more consolation in the thought</p>
+<p class="t0">That our devotion to the God of all</p>
+<p class="t0">Depends not on our notions of that God.</p>
+<p class="t0">My father has so often taught me this--</p>
+<p class="t0">You have so often to this point agreed,</p>
+<p class="t0">How can it be that you wish now alone</p>
+<p class="t0">To undermine what you have built together?</p>
+<p class="t0">But this is no discourse with which to wait</p>
+<p class="t0">The friend whom we expect--and yet for me</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis of some moment whether he----But hark!</p>
+<p class="t0">Hark! Some one comes this way.---If it were he!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Templar</span>, <span class="sc">Daja</span>, <span class="sc">
+Recha</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>A servant ushers in the </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>.)</p>
+
+<p class="t0">This way, Sir Knight!--</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">(<span class="sc">Recha </span><i>starts, composes herself, and is about to fall at his
+feet</i>.)</p>
+
+<p class="t4">                       'Tis he! my rescuer. Ah!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Twas only to avoid this scene that I</p>
+<p class="t0">So long postponed my visit.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                At the feet</p>
+<p class="t0">Of this proud man, I will thank God alone,</p>
+<p class="t0">And not the man. He does not want my thanks--</p>
+<p class="t0">As little as the bucket does which proved</p>
+<p class="t0">Itself so useful at the fire, and let</p>
+<p class="t0">Itself be filled and emptied; so this man,</p>
+<p class="t0">He too was thrust by chance amid the flames;</p>
+<p class="t0">I dropped by chance into his open arms,</p>
+<p class="t0">By chance remained there, like a fluttering spark</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon his mantle--till--I know not what</p>
+<p class="t0">Expelled us from the flames. What room is here</p>
+<p class="t0">For thanks?--In Europe wine excites the men</p>
+<p class="t0">To greater deeds--The Templar knows his duty,</p>
+<p class="t0">Performs his task, as well-trained spaniels do,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who fetch alike from water and from flames.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR (<i>who has been surveying her with surprise and uneasiness</i>).</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O Daja, Daja! if in hasty hours</p>
+<p class="t0">Of care and grief, this unchecked tongue of mine</p>
+<p class="t0">Betrayed me into rudeness, why convey</p>
+<p class="t0">To her each idle word that leaves my lips?</p>
+<p class="t0">This is indeed too galling a revenge!</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet, if henceforth, you will interpret better----</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I question if these little stings, Sir Knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">Were so shot forth as to have done you wrong.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How! you had cares, and were more covetous</p>
+<p class="t0">Of them than of your life.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          Thou best of beings,</p>
+<p class="t0">How is my soul with eye and ear at strife?</p>
+<p class="t0">No, 'twas not she I rescued from the fire,</p>
+<p class="t0">For who could know her and forbear the deed?</p>
+<p class="t0">In truth, disguised by terror----</p>
+<p class="t3">(<i>He gazes on her as if entranced</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               But to me</p>
+<p class="t0">You still appear the same as then you seemed.</p>
+<p class="t0">(<i>A pause, till she resumes in order to interrupt his reverie</i>.)</p>
+<p class="t0">Tell me, Sir Knight, where have you been so long?</p>
+<p class="t0">And--I might almost ask--where are you now?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I am where I, perhaps, ought not to be.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And been, perhaps, where you should not have been.</p>
+<p class="t0">That is not well.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 I have been up the mountain--</p>
+<p class="t0">What is the name?--ay! Sinai!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    I am glad;</p>
+<p class="t0">For, doubtless, you can tell me if 'tis true----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">If what is true? If holy people show</p>
+<p class="t0">The spot where Moses stood before his God?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh no; not that. Wherever Moses stood</p>
+<p class="t0">It was before his God. I know enough</p>
+<p class="t0">About such things already. Is it true--</p>
+<p class="t0">I wish to learn from you who have been there--</p>
+<p class="t0">If it is not by far less difficult</p>
+<p class="t0">To climb than to descend the holy mount?</p>
+<p class="t0">For with all other mountains that I know,</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis quite the contrary. You turn away!</p>
+<p class="t0">Why do you turn, Sir Knight? Nay, look at me.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I wish to hear you rather.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                           I perceive,</p>
+<p class="t0">Because you do not wish that I should see</p>
+<p class="t0">You smile at my simplicity. You smile</p>
+<p class="t0">That I have not some more important thing</p>
+<p class="t0">To ask about the holy hill of hills.</p>
+<p class="t0">Is it so?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">          Must I meet those eyes again?</p>
+<p class="t0">And now you cast them down, and check your smile.</p>
+<p class="t0">How can I in those changeful features read</p>
+<p class="t0">What I so plainly hear--the truth your words</p>
+<p class="t0">So audibly declare, and yet would hide?</p>
+<p class="t0">How truly did your father say to me,</p>
+<p class="t0">&quot;If you but knew her!&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          Who said that to you?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your father, and of you he spoke the words.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Have I not said it to you many times?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Where is your father now? with Saladin?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Doubtless he is.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Still there! Oh, I forget.</p>
+<p class="t0">He cannot still be there. He waits for me,</p>
+<p class="t0">As he appointed, near the cloister gate.</p>
+<p class="t0">Forgive me, I must go in quest of him.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I will do that. Wait here, I'll bring him straight.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O no, O no! He is expecting me.</p>
+<p class="t0">Besides, you cannot tell what may have chanced.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis not unlikely he may be engaged</p>
+<p class="t0">With Saladin--you do not know the Sultan--</p>
+<p class="t0">In some unpleasant----Danger may ensue</p>
+<p class="t0">If I delay.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">           Danger! for whom? for what?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Danger for me--for you--for him! unless</p>
+<p class="t0">I go at once<span style="letter-spacing:3em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Recha</span>, <span class="sc">Daja</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               What is the matter, Daja?</p>
+<p class="t0">So quick! what ails him--makes him fly from hence?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Let him alone. I think it no bad sign.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Sign! and of what?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                        That something vexes him.</p>
+<p class="t0">It boils, but it must not boil over. Go,</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis your turn now.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     My turn. You have become</p>
+<p class="t0">Incomprehensible to me--like him.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Now you may pay him back with interest</p>
+<p class="t0">All the unrest he once occasioned you.</p>
+<p class="t0">But be not too vindictive--too severe.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, Daja, you must know your meaning best.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And are you then already calm once more?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">In truth I am.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">                  Confess at least, dear Recha,</p>
+<p class="t0">That all this restlessness has brought you pleasure,</p>
+<p class="t0">And that you have to thank his want of ease</p>
+<p class="t0">For all the ease that you yourself enjoy.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know not that, but I must still confess</p>
+<p class="t0">That to myself it seems a mystery</p>
+<p class="t0">How in this bosom, such a pleasing calm</p>
+<p class="t0">Can suddenly succeed so rude a storm.</p>
+<p class="t0">His countenance, his speech, his manner have----</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">By this time satisfied you.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                             No, not that.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, satisfied your more impatient want.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, well, if you must have it so.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     Not I!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To me he must be ever dear. To me</p>
+<p class="t0">He must remain more dear than life, although</p>
+<p class="t0">My pulse no longer flutters at his name,</p>
+<p class="t0">My heart no longer, when I think of him,</p>
+<p class="t0">Beats with a fuller throb. What have I said?</p>
+<p class="t0">Come, Daja, to the window once again</p>
+<p class="t0">Which overlooks the palms.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                I see 'tis not</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet satisfied, that more impatient want.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Now, I shall see the palm--trees once again;</p>
+<p class="t0">Not him alone amidst them.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               Such a fit</p>
+<p class="t0">Of coldness speaks of fevers yet to come.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, I'm not cold, in truth I do not see</p>
+<p class="t0">Less gladly that which I do calmly see.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>The Hall of Audience in </i><span class="sc">Saladin's </span><i>
+Palace</i>.)</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin</span>, <span class="sc">Sittah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>giving directions</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Bring the Jew here, as soon as he arrives.</p>
+<p class="t0">He seems in no great haste.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                             Nay, Saladin,</p>
+<p class="t0">Perhaps he was not found at home.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     Ah, sister!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You look as if some contest were at hand.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay! and with weapons I'm not used to wield.</p>
+<p class="t0">Must I then play the hypocrite--and frame</p>
+<p class="t0">Precautions--lay a snare? Where learnt I that?</p>
+<p class="t0">And for what end? To seek for money--money!</p>
+<p class="t0">For money from a Jew? And to such arts</p>
+<p class="t0">Must Saladin descend, that he may win</p>
+<p class="t0">The most contemptible of paltry things?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But paltry things, despised too much, are sure</p>
+<p class="t0">To find some method of revenge.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 'Tis true!</p>
+<p class="t0">What, if this Jew should prove an upright man,</p>
+<p class="t0">Such as the Dervise painted him?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                     Why, then,</p>
+<p class="t0">Your difficulty ceases; for a snare</p>
+<p class="t0">Implies an avaricious, cheating Jew,</p>
+<p class="t0">And not an upright man. Then he is ours</p>
+<p class="t0">Without a snare. 'Twill give us joy to hear</p>
+<p class="t0">How such a man will speak--with what stern strength</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll tear the net, or with what cunning skill</p>
+<p class="t0">Untangle all its meshes, one by one.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">True, Sittah! 'twill afford me rare delight.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What, then, need trouble you? For if he be,</p>
+<p class="t0">Like all his nation, a mere cozening Jew,</p>
+<p class="t0">You need not blush, if you appear to him</p>
+<p class="t0">No better than he deems all other men.</p>
+<p class="t0">But if to him you wear a different look,</p>
+<p class="t0">You'll be a fool--his dupe!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              So I must, then,</p>
+<p class="t0">Do ill, lest bad men should think ill of me.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, brother, if you call it doing ill</p>
+<p class="t0">To put a thing to its intended use.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, there is nothing woman's wit invents</p>
+<p class="t0">It cannot palliate----</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                    How, palliate?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Sittah, I fear such fine-wrought filagree</p>
+<p class="t0">Will break in my rude hand. It is for those</p>
+<p class="t0">Who frame such plots to bring them into play.</p>
+<p class="t0">The execution needs the inventor's skill.</p>
+<p class="t0">But let it pass.--I'll dance as best I can--</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet sooner would I do it ill than well.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, brother, have more courage in yourself!</p>
+<p class="t0">Have but the will, I'll answer for the rest.</p>
+<p class="t0">How strange that men like you are ever prone</p>
+<p class="t0">To think it is their swords alone that raise them.</p>
+<p class="t0">When with the fox the noble lion hunts,</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis of the fellowship he feels ashamed,</p>
+<p class="t0">But of the cunning, never.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Well, 'tis strange</p>
+<p class="t0">That women so delight to bring mankind</p>
+<p class="t0">Down to their level. But, dear Sittah, go;</p>
+<p class="t0">I think I know my lesson.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          Must I go?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You did not mean to stay?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           No, not with you,</p>
+<p class="t0">But in this neighb'ring chamber.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                     What! to listen?</p>
+<p class="t0">Not so, my sister, if I shall succeed.</p>
+<p class="t0">Away! the curtain rustles--he is come.</p>
+<p class="t0">Beware of lingering! I'll be on the watch.</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0">(<i>While </i><span class="sc">Sittah </span><i>retires through,
+one door</i>, <span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>
+enters at another, and </i><span class="sc">Saladin </span><i>seats himself</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin</span>, <span class="sc">Nathan</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Draw nearer, Jew--yet nearer--close to me!</p>
+<p class="t0">Lay fear aside.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                Fear, Sultan, 's for your foes.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your name is Nathan?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        Yes.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 Nathan the Wise.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No.
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">     But, at least the people call you so.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That may be true. The people!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    Do not think</p>
+<p class="t0">I treat the people's voice contemptuously.</p>
+<p class="t0">I have been wishing long to know the man</p>
+<p class="t0">Whom it has called the Wise.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                What, if it named</p>
+<p class="t0">Him so in scorn? If wise means prudent only--</p>
+<p class="t0">And prudent, one who knows his interest well?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who knows his real interest, you mean.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then, Sultan, selfish men were the most prudent,</p>
+<p class="t0">And wise, and prudent, then, would mean the same.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You're proving what your speeches contradict.</p>
+<p class="t0">You know the real interests of man:</p>
+<p class="t0">The people know them not--have never sought</p>
+<p class="t0">To know them. That alone can make man wise.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Which every man conceives himself to be.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">A truce to modesty! To meet it ever,</p>
+<p class="t0">When we are seeking truth is wearisome (<i>springs up</i>).</p>
+<p class="t0">So, let us to the point. Be candid, Jew,</p>
+<p class="t0">Be frank and honest.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     I will serve you, prince,</p>
+<p class="t0">And prove that I am worthy of your favour.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How will you serve me?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                             You shall have the best</p>
+<p class="t0">Of all I have, and at the cheapest rate.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What mean you? Not your wares?--My sister, then,</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall make the bargain with you. (That's for the listener!)</p>
+<p class="t0">I am not versed in mercantile affairs,</p>
+<p class="t0">And with a merchant's craft I've nought to do.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Doubtless you would inquire if I have marked</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon my route the movements of the foe?</p>
+<p class="t0">Whether he's stirring? If I may presume----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Neither was that my object. On that point</p>
+<p class="t0">I know enough. But hear me.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              I obey.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It is another, a far different thing</p>
+<p class="t0">On which I seek for wisdom; and since you</p>
+<p class="t0">Are called the Wise, tell me which faith or law</p>
+<p class="t0">You deem the best.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                      Sultan, I am a Jew.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And I a Mussulman. The Christian stands</p>
+<p class="t0">Between us. Here are three religions, then,</p>
+<p class="t0">And of these three one only can be true.</p>
+<p class="t0">A man like you remains not where his birth</p>
+<p class="t0">By accident has cast him; or if so,</p>
+<p class="t0">Conviction, choice, or ground of preference,</p>
+<p class="t0">Supports him. Let me, Nathan, hear from you,</p>
+<p class="t0">In confidence, the reasons of your choice,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which I have lacked the leisure to examine.</p>
+<p class="t0">It may be, Nathan, that I am the first</p>
+<p class="t0">Sultan who has indulged this strange caprice,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which need not, therefore, make a Sultan blush.</p>
+<p class="t0">Am I the first? Nay, speak; or if you seek</p>
+<p class="t0">A brief delay to shape your scattered thoughts,</p>
+<p class="t0">I yield it freely. (Has she overheard?</p>
+<p class="t0">She will inform me if I've acted right.)</p>
+<p class="t0">Reflect then, Nathan, I shall soon return.<span style="letter-spacing:1em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<h3>NATHAN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>alone</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Strange! how is this? What can the Sultan want?</p>
+<p class="t0">I came prepared for cash--he asks for truth!</p>
+<p class="t0">Truth! as if truth were cash! A coin disused--</p>
+<p class="t0">Valued by weight! If so, 'twere well, indeed!</p>
+<p class="t0">But coin quite new, not coin but for the die,</p>
+<p class="t0">To be flung down and on the counter told----</p>
+<p class="t0">It is not that. Like gold tied up in bags,</p>
+<p class="t0">Will truth lie hoarded in the wise man's head,</p>
+<p class="t0">To be produced at need? Now, in this case,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which of us plays the Jew? He asks for truth.</p>
+<p class="t0">Is truth what he requires? his aim, his end?</p>
+<p class="t0">Or does he use it as a subtle snare?</p>
+<p class="t0">That were too petty for his noble mind.</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet what is e'er too petty for the great?</p>
+<p class="t0">Did he not rush at once into the house,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whilst, as a friend, he would have paused or knocked?</p>
+<p class="t0">I must beware. Yet to repel him now</p>
+<p class="t0">And act the stubborn Jew, is not the thing;</p>
+<p class="t0">And wholly to fling off the Jew, still less.</p>
+<p class="t0">For if no Jew, he might with justice ask,</p>
+<p class="t0">Why not a Mussulman?--That thought may serve.--</p>
+<p class="t0">Others than children may be quieted</p>
+<p class="t0">With tales well told. But see, he comes--he comes.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin</span>, <span class="sc">Nathan</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">(<i>Aside</i>) (The coast is clear)--I am not come too soon?</p>
+<p class="t0">Have you reflected on this matter, Nathan?</p>
+<p class="t0">Speak! no one hears.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                        Would all the world might hear!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And are you of your cause so confident?</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis wise, indeed, of you to hide no truth,</p>
+<p class="t0">For truth to hazard all, even life and goods.
+
+ <h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay, when necessity and profit bid.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I hope that henceforth I shall rightly bear</p>
+<p class="t0">One of my names, &quot;Reformer of the world</p>
+<p class="t0">And of the law!&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   A noble title, truly;</p>
+<p class="t0">But, Sultan, ere I quite explain myself,</p>
+<p class="t0">Permit me to relate a tale.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Why not?</p>
+<p class="t0">I ever was a friend of tales well told.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well told! Ah, Sultan! that's another thing.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What! still so proudly modest? But begin.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">In days of yore, there dwelt in Eastern lands</p>
+<p class="t0">A man, who from a valued hand received</p>
+<p class="t0">A ring of priceless worth. An opal stone</p>
+<p class="t0">Shot from within an ever-changing hue,</p>
+<p class="t0">And held this virtue in its form concealed,</p>
+<p class="t0">To render him of God and man beloved,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who wore it in this fixed unchanging faith.</p>
+<p class="t0">No wonder that its Eastern owner ne'er</p>
+<p class="t0">Withdrew it from his finger, and resolved</p>
+<p class="t0">That to his house the ring should be secured.</p>
+<p class="t0">Therefore he thus bequeathed it: first to him</p>
+<p class="t0">Who was the most beloved of his sons,</p>
+<p class="t0">Ordaining then that he should leave the ring</p>
+<p class="t0">To the most dear among his children; then,</p>
+<p class="t0">That without heeding birth, the fav'rite son,</p>
+<p class="t0">In virtue of the ring alone, should still</p>
+<p class="t0">Be lord of all the house. You hear me, Sultan?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I understand. Proceed.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          From son to son,</p>
+<p class="t0">The ring at length descended to a sire</p>
+<p class="t0">Who had three sons, alike obedient to him,</p>
+<p class="t0">And whom he loved with just and equal love.</p>
+<p class="t0">The first, the second, and the third, in turn,</p>
+<p class="t0">According as they each apart received</p>
+<p class="t0">The overflowings of his heart, appeared</p>
+<p class="t0">Most worthy as his heir, to take the ring,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which, with good-natured weakness, he in turn</p>
+<p class="t0">Had promised privately to each; and thus</p>
+<p class="t0">Things lasted for a while. But death approached,</p>
+<p class="t0">The father now embarrassed, could not bear</p>
+<p class="t0">To disappoint two sons, who trusted him.</p>
+<p class="t0">What's to be done? In secret he commands</p>
+<p class="t0">The jeweller to come, that from the form</p>
+<p class="t0">Of the true ring, he may bespeak two more.</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor cost nor pains are to be spared, to make</p>
+<p class="t0">The rings alike--quite like the true one. This</p>
+<p class="t0">The artist managed. When the rings were brought</p>
+<p class="t0">The father's eye could not distinguish which</p>
+<p class="t0">Had been the model. Overjoyed, he calls</p>
+<p class="t0">His sons, takes leave of each apart--bestows</p>
+<p class="t0">His blessing and his ring on each--and dies.</p>
+<p class="t0">You hear me?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>who has turned away in perplexity</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Ay! I hear. Conclude the tale.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis ended, Sultan! All that follows next</p>
+<p class="t0">May well be guessed. Scarce is the father dead,</p>
+<p class="t0">When with his ring, each separate son appears,</p>
+<p class="t0">And claims to be the lord of all the house.</p>
+<p class="t0">Question arises, tumult and debate--</p>
+<p class="t0">But all in vain--the true ring could no more</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0">Be then distinguished than----(<i>after a pause, in which he
+awaits the Sultan's reply</i>) the true faith now.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Is that your answer to my question?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                           No!</p>
+<p class="t0">But it may serve as my apology.</p>
+<p class="t0">I cannot venture to decide between</p>
+<p class="t0">Rings which the father had expressly made,</p>
+<p class="t0">To baffle those who would distinguish them.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Rings, Nathan! Come, a truce to this! The creeds</p>
+<p class="t0">Which I have named have broad, distinctive marks,</p>
+<p class="t0">Differing in raiment, food, and drink!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                        'Tis true!</p>
+<p class="t0">But then they differ not in their foundation.</p>
+<p class="t0">Are not all built on history alike,</p>
+<p class="t0">Traditional or written? History</p>
+<p class="t0">Must be received on trust. Is it not so?</p>
+<p class="t0">In whom are we most likely to put trust?</p>
+<p class="t0">In our own people? in those very men</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose blood we are? who, from our earliest youth</p>
+<p class="t0">Have proved their love for us, have ne'er deceived,</p>
+<p class="t0">Except in cases where 'twere better so?</p>
+<p class="t0">Why should I credit my forefathers less</p>
+<p class="t0">Than you do yours? or can I ask of you</p>
+<p class="t0">To charge your ancestors with falsehood, that</p>
+<p class="t0">The praise of truth may be bestowed on mine?</p>
+<p class="t0">And so of Christians.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      By our Prophet's faith,</p>
+<p class="t0">The man is right. I have no more to say.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Now let us to our rings once more return.</p>
+<p class="t0">We said the sons complained; each to the judge</p>
+<p class="t0">Swore from his father's hand immediately</p>
+<p class="t0">To have received the ring--as was the case--</p>
+<p class="t0">In virtue of a promise, that he should</p>
+<p class="t0">One day enjoy the ring's prerogative.</p>
+<p class="t0">In this they spoke the truth. Then each maintained</p>
+<p class="t0">It was not possible that to himself</p>
+<p class="t0">His father had been false. Each could not think</p>
+<p class="t0">His father guilty of an act so base.</p>
+<p class="t0">Rather than that, reluctant as he was</p>
+<p class="t0">To judge his brethren, he must yet declare</p>
+<p class="t0">Some treach'rous act of falsehood had been done.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well! and the judge? I'm curious now to hear</p>
+<p class="t0">What you will make him say. Go on, go on!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The judge said: If the father is not brought</p>
+<p class="t0">Before my seat, I cannot judge the case.</p>
+<p class="t0">Am I to judge enigmas? Do you think</p>
+<p class="t0">That the true ring will here unseal its lips?</p>
+<p class="t0">But, hold! You tell me that the real ring</p>
+<p class="t0">Enjoys the secret power to make the man</p>
+<p class="t0">Who wears it, both by God and man, beloved.</p>
+<p class="t0">Let that decide. Who of the three is loved</p>
+<p class="t0">Best by his brethren? Is there no reply?</p>
+<p class="t0">What! do these love--exciting rings alone</p>
+<p class="t0">Act inwardly? Have they no outward charm?</p>
+<p class="t0">Does each one love himself alone? You're all</p>
+<p class="t0">Deceived deceivers. All your rings are false.</p>
+<p class="t0">The real ring, perchance, has disappeared;</p>
+<p class="t0">And so your father, to supply the loss,</p>
+<p class="t0">Has caused three rings to fill the place of one.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O, charming, charming!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      And,--the judge continued:--</p>
+<p class="t0">If you insist on judgment, and refuse</p>
+<p class="t0">My counsel, be it so. I recommend</p>
+<p class="t0">That you consider how the matter stands.</p>
+<p class="t0">Each from his father has received a ring:</p>
+<p class="t0">Let each then think the real ring his own.</p>
+<p class="t0">Your father, possibly, desired to free</p>
+<p class="t0">His power from one ring's tyrannous control.</p>
+<p class="t0">He loved you all with an impartial love,</p>
+<p class="t0">And equally, and had no inward wish</p>
+<p class="t0">To prove the measure of his love for one</p>
+<p class="t0">By pressing heavily upon the rest.</p>
+<p class="t0">Therefore, let each one imitate this love;</p>
+<p class="t0">So, free from prejudice, let each one aim</p>
+<p class="t0">To emulate his brethren in the strife</p>
+<p class="t0">To prove the virtues of his several ring,</p>
+<p class="t0">By offices of kindness and of love,</p>
+<p class="t0">And trust in God. And if, in years to come,</p>
+<p class="t0">The virtues of the ring shall reappear</p>
+<p class="t0">Amongst your children's children, then, once more,</p>
+<p class="t0">Come to this judgment--seat. A greater far</p>
+<p class="t0">Than I shall sit upon it, and decide.</p>
+<p class="t0">So spake the modest judge.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Oh God, O God!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And if now, Saladin, you think you're he----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="center" style="margin-top:0">(<i>Approaches </i><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>and takes his hand, which he retains to the end of
+the scene</i>.)</p>
+<p class="t0">This promised judge--I?--Dust! I?--Nought! oh God!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What is the matter, Sultan?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                Dearest Nathan!</p>
+<p class="t0">That judge's thousand years are not yet past;</p>
+<p class="t0">His judgment-seat is not for me. But go,</p>
+<p class="t0">And still remain my friend.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Has Saladin</p>
+<p class="t0">Aught else to say?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     No.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Nothing?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                       Truly nothing.</p>
+<p class="t0">But why this eagerness?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           I could have wished</p>
+<p class="t0">An opportunity to ask a boon.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Wait not for opportunity. Speak now.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I have been traveling, and am just returned</p>
+<p class="t0">From a long journey, from collecting debts.</p>
+<p class="t0">Hard cash is troublesome these perilous times,</p>
+<p class="t0">I know not where I may bestow it safely.</p>
+<p class="t0">These coming wars need money; and, perchance,</p>
+<p class="t0">You can employ it for me, Saladin?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>fixing his eyes upon </i><span class="sc">Nathan</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I ask not, Nathan, have you seen Al-Hafi?</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor if some shrewd suspicion of your own</p>
+<p class="t0">Moves you to make this offer.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                What suspicion?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I do not ask--forgive me,--it is just,</p>
+<p class="t0">For what avails concealment? I confess</p>
+<p class="t0">I was about----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">              To ask this very thing?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">       Then our objects are at once fulfilled,</p>
+<p class="t0">And if I cannot send you all my store,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Templar is to blame for that. You know</p>
+<p class="t0">The man. I owe a heavy debt to him.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The Templar! Surely, Nathan, with your gold</p>
+<p class="t0">You do not aid my direst foes?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 I speak</p>
+<p class="t0">Of him whose life was spared by Saladin.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Of what do you remind me? I had quite</p>
+<p class="t0">Forgot the youth. Where is he? Know you him?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Have you not heard, then, how your clemency</p>
+<p class="t0">Through him has flowed to me? How, at the risk</p>
+<p class="t0">Of the existence which your mercy gave,</p>
+<p class="t0">He saved my daughter from the raging flames?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ha! did he so? He looked like one that would!</p>
+<p class="t0">My brother, too--his image--would have done it.</p>
+<p class="t0">Is he still here? Bring him to me at once.</p>
+<p class="t0">I have so often spoken to my sister</p>
+<p class="t0">Of this same brother, whom she never knew,</p>
+<p class="t0">That I must let her see his counterfeit.</p>
+<p class="t0">Go, fetch him. How a single noble deed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Though but the offspring of the merest whim,</p>
+<p class="t0">Gives birth to other blessings! Bring him to me.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>loosing </i><span class="sc">Saladin's </span><i>hand</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I'll go--the other matter then is settled. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I wish I had but let my sister listen.</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll go at once to her and tell it all.</p>
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0">                           (<i>Exit on the opposite side</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Place of Palms in the neighbourhood of the Convent,
+where the</i>
+<span class="sc">Templar </span><i>awaits </i><span class="sc">Nathan</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>walking to and fro, in conflict with himself</i>.)</span></h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The panting victim here may rest awhile.</p>
+<p class="t0">So far 'tis well. I dare not ask myself</p>
+<p class="t0">What change has sprung within me, nor inquire</p>
+<p class="t0">What yet may happen. Flight has proved in vain,</p>
+<p class="t0">And, come what may, I could no more than flee,</p>
+<p class="t0">The stroke was far too sudden to escape.</p>
+<p class="t0">Long--much--I strove to keep aloof, in vain.</p>
+<p class="t0">But once to see her, e'en against my will,</p>
+<p class="t0">To see her, and to frame a firm resolve</p>
+<p class="t0">Never to lose her. What, then, is resolve?</p>
+<p class="t0">Resolve is purpose--action, while--in truth--</p>
+<p class="t0">I was but passive. But to see her once,</p>
+<p class="t0">And feel that I was woven into her being,</p>
+<p class="t0">Was then and still remains the self-same thing.</p>
+<p class="t0">To live apart from her--oh, bitter thought!--</p>
+<p class="t0">Were death; and after death--where'er we were--</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twould there be death too. Say, then, is this love?</p>
+<p class="t0">And doth the Templar love? A Christian loves</p>
+<p class="t0">A Jewish maiden! Well, and what of that?</p>
+<p class="t0">This is the holy land; holy to me,</p>
+<p class="t0">And dear, because I have of late renounced</p>
+<p class="t0">Full many a prejudice. What says my vow?</p>
+<p class="t0">In the same hour that made me prisoner</p>
+<p class="t0">To Saladin. The head he gave me back,</p>
+<p class="t0">Was it the old one? No. I'm newly framed,</p>
+<p class="t0">I know no fragment of the ancient forms</p>
+<p class="t0">That bound me once. My brain is clearer now,</p>
+<p class="t0">More fit for my paternal home above.</p>
+<p class="t0">Now I can think as once my father thought,</p>
+<p class="t0">If tales of him are not untruly told--</p>
+<p class="t0">Tales that were ne'er so credible as now,</p>
+<p class="t0">When I am stumbling where my father fell.</p>
+<p class="t0">Fell! yet 'twere better far to fall with men</p>
+<p class="t0">Than stand with boys. His conduct guarantees</p>
+<p class="t0">His approbation. And what need I more</p>
+<p class="t0">Than Nathan's approbation? Of his praise</p>
+<p class="t0">I cannot doubt. Oh, what a Jew is he!</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet he would appear the simple Jew.</p>
+<p class="t0">But, see, he comes--he comes in haste--delight</p>
+<p class="t0">Beams from his eye. But who leaves Saladin</p>
+<p class="t0">With other looks? Ho! Nathan!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> IX.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>the </i><span class="sc">
+Templar</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 Are you there?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your visit to the Sultan has been long.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not over long. My audience was delayed.</p>
+<p class="t0">But, Conrad, this man well supports his fame--</p>
+<p class="t0">His fame is but his shadow. But I must</p>
+<p class="t0">Without delay inform you that he would----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                             Say on.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Would speak with you. So, come with me at once.</p>
+<p class="t0">I have some brief commands to give at home,</p>
+<p class="t0">Then to the Sultan.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Nathan, I will ne'er</p>
+<p class="t0">Enter your door again----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                         Then you've been there</p>
+<p class="t0">Already--spoken with her. Tell me all.</p>
+<p class="t0">How do you like my Recha?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            Words would fail</p>
+<p class="t0">To tell how much. I dare not trust myself</p>
+<p class="t0">Alone with her again, unless you say</p>
+<p class="t0">That I may gaze upon her form for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What can this mean?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after a short pause, embracing him suddenly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           My father!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">How, young man?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>withdrawing himself as suddenly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Call me your son! I do implore you, Nathan.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Dear youth!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               And not your son! I pray you, Nathan,</p>
+<p class="t0">Conjure you, by the strongest ties of Nature,</p>
+<p class="t0">Let it content you now to be a man:</p>
+<p class="t0">Repel me not.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">                 My dearest friend!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 Say son!</p>
+<p class="t0">Why not your son? What, if in Recha's heart</p>
+<p class="t0">Mere gratitude had paved the way for love,</p>
+<p class="t0">And if we both but waited your assent</p>
+<p class="t0">To crown our union! You are silent, sir!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I am astonished at your words, young Knight.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Astonished! Do I then astonish you</p>
+<p class="t0">With your own thoughts, although you know them not</p>
+<p class="t0">When uttered by my lips. Astonished, Nathan?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Would that I knew what Stauffen was your father!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What say you, Nathan? At a time like this,</p>
+<p class="t0">Can you indulge such empty, curious thoughts?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I knew a Stauffen once whose name was Conrad.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What, if my father bore that very name?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And did he so?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">                I bear my father's name,</p>
+<p class="t0">I am called Conrad.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    So! And yet the man</p>
+<p class="t0">I knew was not your father, for, like you,</p>
+<p class="t0">He was a Templar, and was never married.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And what of that?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     How?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                                 He might still have been</p>
+<p class="t0">My father.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Nay, you jest.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            You're far too good.</p>
+<p class="t0">What matters it? Does bastard wound your ear?</p>
+<p class="t0">The race, good sir, is not to be despised.</p>
+<p class="t0">But spare my pedigree, and I'll spare yours.</p>
+<p class="t0">Great God! forbid my words should ever cast</p>
+<p class="t0">The smallest doubt on your ancestral tree.</p>
+<p class="t0">You can attest it backwards, leaf by leaf,</p>
+<p class="t0">To Abraham. And from that point--I know it well,</p>
+<p class="t0">Myself--can even swear to it.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your words are bitter. Do I merit this?</p>
+<p class="t0">What have I e'er refused you? I have but</p>
+<p class="t0">Forborn assent at the first word you spoke.</p>
+<p class="t0">No more!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">          Oh! true, no more. Forgive me, Nathan.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, come with me, come.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            Whither? to your house?</p>
+<p class="t0">That will I not--it burns. I'll wait you here.</p>
+<p class="t0">Farewell. If I'm to see her once again,</p>
+<p class="t0">I then shall see her often; and if not,</p>
+<p class="t0">I have already seen her too--too much.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> X.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>, <span class="sc">
+Daja</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Too much, indeed! Strange that the human brain</p>
+<p class="t0">So infinite of comprehension, should</p>
+<p class="t0">At times with a mere trifle be engrossed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Suddenly filled, and all at once quite full,</p>
+<p class="t0">No matter what it teems with. But the soul</p>
+<p class="t0">Soon calms again, and the fermenting stuff</p>
+<p class="t0">Makes itself room, restoring life and order.</p>
+<p class="t0">And is this, then, the first time that I love?</p>
+<p class="t0">And was the glow to which I gave that name</p>
+<p class="t0">Not love at all? And is this love alone</p>
+<p class="t0">Which now with burning flame consumes my heart?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>who has crept up to his side</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Sir Knight! Sir Knight!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        Who calls? What, Daja, you!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, I am here; I managed to slip by him.</p>
+<p class="t0">But he can see us where we stand. Come nearer,</p>
+<p class="t0">And place yourself with me behind this tree.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why so mysterious? What's the secret, Daja?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, 'tis a secret which has brought me hither--</p>
+<p class="t0">A twofold secret. Part is known to me,</p>
+<p class="t0">The other part to you. Come, let us change:</p>
+<p class="t0">First tell me yours, and then I'll tell you mine.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, willingly, when I have ascertained</p>
+<p class="t0">What you call mine. But yours will throw a light</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon the whole. Begin, then.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                That's not fair;</p>
+<p class="t0">You must begin, Sir Knight, and I will follow.</p>
+<p class="t0">For be assured my secret's nothing worth,</p>
+<p class="t0">Unless I hear yours first. Then lose no time,</p>
+<p class="t0">For if I guess it, you've not trusted me;</p>
+<p class="t0">My secret, then, will be my own, and yours</p>
+<p class="t0">Worth nothing. But do you suppose, Sir Knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">That you can hide such secrets from a woman?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Secrets we often are unconscious of.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Perhaps. But I must prove myself your friend</p>
+<p class="t0">And tell you all. Confess how happened it</p>
+<p class="t0">That you so suddenly took leave of us,</p>
+<p class="t0">And that with Nathan you will not return?</p>
+<p class="t0">Has Recha, then, made no impression on you,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or made too deep a one, perchance? Oh yes!</p>
+<p class="t0">Too deep--too deep! You are a hapless bird</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose fluttering wing the fatal twig has limed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Confess it, plainly, with a word, you love--</p>
+<p class="t0">Love her to madness, and I'll tell you then----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To madness? Ah! you understand it well.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, grant the love, the madness I'll resign.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Because, of course, there is no doubt of it.</p>
+<p class="t0">A Templar love a Jewess!----</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                           Why, it seems</p>
+<p class="t0">Absurd. But often there's more fitness in</p>
+<p class="t0">Some things than we can readily discern;</p>
+<p class="t0">And 'twould not be the first time that our Lord</p>
+<p class="t0">Had drawn us to Him by a secret path</p>
+<p class="t0">Which we had ne'er discovered of ourselves.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Solemnly spoken I (and if for our Lord</p>
+<p class="t0">I substituted Providence, 'twere true).</p>
+<p class="t0">You make me curious, far beyond my wont.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">This is the land of miracles!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Ay, true,</p>
+<p class="t0">Of miracles! Can it be otherwise,</p>
+<p class="t0">When all the world flocks hither? Dearest Daja,</p>
+<p class="t0">You have your wish; so take it as confessed</p>
+<p class="t0">That I do love her, nor can comprehend</p>
+<p class="t0">How I can live without her.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                             Can this be?</p>
+<p class="t0">Then swear, Sir Knight, to make her yours--to save</p>
+<p class="t0">Her here on earth--to save her there for ever.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How can I this? How can I swear to do</p>
+<p class="t0">What stands not in my power.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               'Tis in your power!</p>
+<p class="t0">One single word brings it within your power.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But will her father smile upon my suit?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Her father, truly! He shall be compelled.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Compell'd! What, has he fallen among thieves?</p>
+<p class="t0">Compell'd!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">          Then hear me. Nathan will consent:</p>
+<p class="t0">He must consent.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Consent! and must! Oh, Daja!</p>
+<p class="t0">I have already tried to touch that chord;</p>
+<p class="t0">It vibrates not responsive.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 What! reject you?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He answered me in such discordant tone</p>
+<p class="t0">That I was hurt.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">What say you? Did you breathe</p>
+<p class="t0">The shadow of a wish to marry Recha.</p>
+<p class="t0">And did not Nathan leap for joy? Did he</p>
+<p class="t0">Draw coldly back--raise obstacles?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     He did.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">         Then I'll deliberate no moment more.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>after a pause</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And yet you are deliberating still.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nathan in all things has been ever good.</p>
+<p class="t0">I owe him much. Did he refuse to listen?</p>
+<p class="t0">God knows it grieves me to constrain him thus.
+
+ <h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I pray you, Daja, now to terminate</p>
+<p class="t0">This dire uncertainty. But if you doubt</p>
+<p class="t0">Whether the thing you would impart to me</p>
+<p class="t0">Be right or wrong, worthy of shame or honour,</p>
+<p class="t0">Then tell it not, and henceforth I'll forget</p>
+<p class="t0">You have a secret it were well to hide.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your words but spur me on to tell you all.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then learn that Recha is no Jewess--that</p>
+<p class="t0">She is a Christian maid.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>coldly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           I wish you joy!</p>
+<p class="t0">At last the tedious labour's at an end.</p>
+<p class="t0">The birth-pangs have not hurt you. Still go on</p>
+<p class="t0">With undiminished zeal, and people heaven</p>
+<p class="t0">When you are fit no more to people earth.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How, Knight! and does the news I bring deserve</p>
+<p class="t0">Such bitter taunts? Does it confer no joy</p>
+<p class="t0">On you to hear that Recha is a Christian,</p>
+<p class="t0">On you, her lover, and a Christian knight?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And more especially since Recha is</p>
+<p class="t0">A Christian of your making?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                              Think you so?</p>
+<p class="t0">Then I would fain see him that may convert her.</p>
+<p class="t0">It is her fate long since to have been that</p>
+<p class="t0">Which she can now no more become.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                           Explain,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or leave me.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">                Well! she is a Christian maid,</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Christian parents born--and is baptised.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>hastily</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And Nathan!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Not her father.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                          Nathan not</p>
+<p class="t0">Her father? Are you sure of that?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     I am;</p>
+<p class="t0">The truth has cost me tears of blood. He's not.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But as his daughter he has brought her up,</p>
+<p class="t0">Brought up the Christian maiden as a Jewess?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Just so.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">          And knows she aught about her birth?</p>
+<p class="t0">Has she not learnt from him that she was born</p>
+<p class="t0">A Christian and no Jewess?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 Never yet.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And he not only let the child grow up</p>
+<p class="t0">In this mistaken notion, but he leaves</p>
+<p class="t0">The woman in it.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                     Ay, alas!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                              Oh, Nathan!</p>
+<p class="t0">How can the wise, good Nathan lend himself</p>
+<p class="t0">To stifle Nature's voice--to misdirect</p>
+<p class="t0">The yearnings of a heart in such a way</p>
+<p class="t0">Which, to itself abandoned, would have formed</p>
+<p class="t0">Another bias, Daja? Ay, in truth,</p>
+<p class="t0">The secret is of moment, and may have</p>
+<p class="t0">Important issues. But I feel perplexed:</p>
+<p class="t0">I know not how I ought to act. But go,</p>
+<p class="t0">Let me have breathing time. He may approach,</p>
+<p class="t0">He may surprise us suddenly. Farewell!</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I tremble with affright.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      And I can scarce</p>
+<p class="t0">Express my thoughts. But go; and should you chance</p>
+<p class="t0">To meet him, say he'll find me at the Sultan's.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Let him not see that you have any thing</p>
+<p class="t0">Against him. That 'twere well to keep reserved,</p>
+<p class="t0">To give the proper turn to things at last.</p>
+<p class="t0">It may remove your scruples, touching Recha.</p>
+<p class="t0">But if you take her back to Europe, Knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">You will not leave me here?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 We'll see, now go!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT IV.</h2>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>The Cloisters of the Convent</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Friar</span>, <i>and presently
+afterwards the </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay, ay! he must be right, the Patriarch!</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet, of all his business, no great part</p>
+<p class="t0">Has prospered in my hands. But why should he</p>
+<p class="t0">Entrust such tasks to me? I have no wish</p>
+<p class="t0">To play the knave, to wheedle and persuade,</p>
+<p class="t0">To worm out secrets, and to thrust my hand</p>
+<p class="t0">Into my neighbour's business. Not for this</p>
+<p class="t0">Did I renounce the world, that I might be</p>
+<p class="t0">Entangled with its cares for other men.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR (<i>entering abruptly</i>).</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Good brother, are you here? I've sought you long.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Me, sir?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">            What, don't you recollect me, then?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay! but, Sir Knight, I never thought to see</p>
+<p class="t0">Your face again--and so I hoped in God.</p>
+<p class="t0">God knows how much I hated the proposal</p>
+<p class="t0">Which I was bound to make you, and He knows</p>
+<p class="t0">How little I desired you should assent,</p>
+<p class="t0">How in my inmost soul I was rejoiced</p>
+<p class="t0">When you refused, without a moment's thought,</p>
+<p class="t0">To do what had been shameful in a Knight.</p>
+<p class="t0">But have you thought the matter o'er again?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You seem to know what object brings me here.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Have you, Sir Knight, reflected by this time,</p>
+<p class="t0">That our good Patriarch is not much deceived</p>
+<p class="t0">In thinking gold and glory may be won</p>
+<p class="t0">By his commission? that a foe's a foe,</p>
+<p class="t0">Were he our guardian angel seven times o'er?</p>
+<p class="t0">Have you 'gainst flesh and blood weighed all these things,</p>
+<p class="t0">And are you come to strike a bargain now?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My dear good man, be patient; not for this</p>
+<p class="t0">Am I come hither; not for aught like this</p>
+<p class="t0">Do I desire to see the Patriarch.</p>
+<p class="t0">On every point my thoughts remain unchanged;</p>
+<p class="t0">Nor would I for the wealth of all this world</p>
+<p class="t0">Forfeit that good opinion, which I won</p>
+<p class="t0">From such an upright, honest man as you.</p>
+<p class="t0">I merely come to ask the Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">For counsel.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>looking round timidly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">              Counsel from the Patriarch!</p>
+<p class="t0">What, you! a knight to ask a priest's advice!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Mine is a priestly business.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Yet the priests</p>
+<p class="t0">Would scorn a knight's advice, were their affairs</p>
+<p class="t0">Ever so knightly.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Therefore they're allowed</p>
+<p class="t0">To err sometimes, a privilege which I,</p>
+<p class="t0">For one, don't greatly envy them; and yet,</p>
+<p class="t0">If I were acting only for myself,</p>
+<p class="t0">And were not bound to others, I should care</p>
+<p class="t0">But little for advice. But in some things</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twere better to go wrong by others' guidance</p>
+<p class="t0">Than, by our own, go right. And I observe,</p>
+<p class="t0">By this time, that religion's naught but party,</p>
+<p class="t0">And he who in his own belief is most</p>
+<p class="t0">Impartial, does but hold the standard up</p>
+<p class="t0">Of his own creed, howe'er unconsciously.</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet since 'tis so, it must be right.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                  I'm silent.</p>
+<p class="t0">In truth, I don't quite comprehend.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     And yet--</p>
+<p class="t0">(Let me consider first what 'tis I want--</p>
+<p class="t0">Decision or advice from sage or simple?)</p>
+<p class="t0">Thanks, brother; yes, I thank you for your hint.</p>
+<p class="t0">What is a patriarch? Be thou for once</p>
+<p class="t0">My patriarch; for 'tis the Christian rather</p>
+<p class="t0">Whom in the patriarch I would consult,</p>
+<p class="t0">Than in the Christian the mere patriarch.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Hold, hold, Sir Knight! no more of this, I find</p>
+<p class="t0">That you mistake me. He who hath learnt much</p>
+<p class="t0">Must needs have many cares. I know but one----</p>
+<p class="t0">But hark, behold! here comes the very man!</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis he, so stay; he has perceived us both.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Patriarch</span>, <i>after
+marching up one of the aisles with great pomp, approaches</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I'd rather shun him--he is not my man--</p>
+<p class="t0">A round, red smiling prelate! And what state!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But you should see him at a festival,</p>
+<p class="t0">Now he but comes from visiting the sick.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Great Saladin will then have cause to blush.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>coming forward, makes signs to the</i> Friar)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Was that the Templar? What's his business here?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know not.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>advancing, whilst the </i><span class="sc">Friar </span><i>and his train retire</i>.)</span></h3>
+
+<p class="t0">               Well, Sir Knight, I'm truly glad</p>
+<p class="t0">To meet so brave a youth. So very young,</p>
+<p class="t0">Something may come of him, if Heaven assist.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not more than has already come of him,</p>
+<p class="t0">But rather less, my reverend father.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                        Well,</p>
+<p class="t0">It is my prayer that so devout a Knight</p>
+<p class="t0">May for the cause of Christendom and God</p>
+<p class="t0">Be long preserved; nor can it fail to be,</p>
+<p class="t0">If valour will give ear to aged words.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then say, how can I serve you, Sir?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     With that</p>
+<p class="t0">In which my youth's deficient--sound advice.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Most gladly, if you'll follow my advice.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not blindly, though.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Whose words are those? Indeed,</p>
+<p class="t0">None should neglect to use the intellect</p>
+<p class="t0">Bestowed by God, when it is suitable.</p>
+<p class="t0">But is it always suitable? O no!</p>
+<p class="t0">If God, through one of the celestial choir--</p>
+<p class="t0">That is, through one of the blest ministers</p>
+<p class="t0">Of His most sacred word--should condescend</p>
+<p class="t0">To show some way by which the Church's weal,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or else the general good of Christendom,</p>
+<p class="t0">Might be secured, what man would venture then</p>
+<p class="t0">To weigh the laws of intellect against</p>
+<p class="t0">His will, who fashioned intellect itself?</p>
+<p class="t0">Or measure the unchanged decrees of Heaven</p>
+<p class="t0">By empty rules that suit this petty world?</p>
+<p class="t0">But of all this enough. Now tell me, Knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">Wherefore you seek our counsel?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Reverend father!</p>
+<p class="t0">Suppose a Jew possessed an only child--</p>
+<p class="t0">A girl--whom he with fond parental care</p>
+<p class="t0">Trained to each virtue, treasured as his soul,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whilst she, with love as ardent as his own,</p>
+<p class="t0">Repaid his love,--suppose it rumoured then</p>
+<p class="t0">That she was not the daughter of this Jew,</p>
+<p class="t0">But a poor orphan, purchased in her youth,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or stolen, or found--or anything, but still</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Christian birth, and in her youth baptised,</p>
+<p class="t0">And that the Jew had reared her in his faith,</p>
+<p class="t0">Allowed her to be thought a Jewish maid,</p>
+<p class="t0">And firmly to believe herself his child,--</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, reverend father, what should then be done?</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I shudder at the thought! But, worthy Sir,</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, is this fact, or mere hypothesis?</p>
+<p class="t0">That is, if your own head has framed the case,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or has it happened--does it still exist?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That's unimportant, and could not assist</p>
+<p class="t0">Your reverence to pronounce upon the point.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What! unimportant! See, Sir Knight, how apt</p>
+<p class="t0">Proud reason is to err in sacred things.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis of deep import; though, 'tis true, the case</p>
+<p class="t0">May be the offspring of your sportive wit,</p>
+<p class="t0">When we should straight dismiss it from our thoughts,</p>
+<p class="t0">And I should then refer you to the stage</p>
+<p class="t0">Where <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i> like these are oft discussed</p>
+<p class="t0">With loud applause. But if the object be,</p>
+<p class="t0">By something better than a sleight of hand,</p>
+<p class="t0">To sound my judgment, if the thing be fact,</p>
+<p class="t0">And may have happened in our diocese,</p>
+<p class="t0">Here in our dear Jerusalem itself,</p>
+<p class="t0">Why then----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               What then?</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      Then were it well, Sir Knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">To execute at once upon the Jew</p>
+<p class="t0">The penalty provided for the case,</p>
+<p class="t0">By Papal and Imperial laws, against</p>
+<p class="t0">So foul a crime, such dire iniquity.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">          The laws I mention have decreed</p>
+<p class="t0">That if a Jew shall to apostasy</p>
+<p class="t0">Seduce a Christian, he shall die by fire.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">         How much more when a Jew by force</p>
+<p class="t0">Tears from baptismal bonds a Christian child?</p>
+<p class="t0">For all that's done to children is by force,</p>
+<p class="t0">Save what the Church shall order and perform.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What if the child were steeped in misery,</p>
+<p class="t0">And must have died, but for this bounteous Jew?</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It matters not: the Jew should still be burnt.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twere better to expire in misery,</p>
+<p class="t0">Than live to suffer never-ending pains.</p>
+<p class="t0">The Jew moreover should not have forestalled</p>
+<p class="t0">The hand of God, whom had He willed to save,</p>
+<p class="t0">Could save without him.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Make him happy too,</p>
+<p class="t0">In spite of him.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  It matters not, the Jew</p>
+<p class="t0">Must still be burnt.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     That grieves me very much,</p>
+<p class="t0">And all the more, as people say that he</p>
+<p class="t0">Has reared the child not in his own belief,</p>
+<p class="t0">So much as in no faith at all, and taught</p>
+<p class="t0">Her neither more nor less of God than is</p>
+<p class="t0">By reason asked.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     It matters not, the Jew</p>
+<p class="t0">Must still be burnt--and for this very cause</p>
+<p class="t0">Would merit threefold death. To rear a child</p>
+<p class="t0">Without a faith! Not even teach a child</p>
+<p class="t0">The greatest of all duties--to believe!</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis heinous, and I'm rapt in wonder, Knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">That you yourself----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      Oh, reverend Sir, the rest</p>
+<p class="t0">In the confessional, if God allow.<span style="letter-spacing:1em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Is going</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What, going! and not await my questioning!</p>
+<p class="t0">Not name to me this infidel, this Jew!</p>
+<p class="t0">Not find him out for me at once! But, hold!</p>
+<p class="t0">A thought occurs. I'll to the Sultan straight.</p>
+<p class="t0">According to the treaty we have sworn</p>
+<p class="t0">With Saladin, he must protect our creed</p>
+<p class="t0">With all the privileges, all the rights</p>
+<p class="t0">That appertain to our most holy faith.</p>
+<p class="t0">Thank God! we have retained the deed itself,</p>
+<p class="t0">With seal and signature affixed, and we</p>
+<p class="t0">Can readily convince him, make him feel</p>
+<p class="t0">How full of peril for the state it is</p>
+<p class="t0">Not to believe. All civil bonds are rent</p>
+<p class="t0">Asunder, torn to pieces, Knight, when men</p>
+<p class="t0">Have no belief. Away, away for ever</p>
+<p class="t0">With such impiety!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                      I much deplore</p>
+<p class="t0">That I want time to relish this discourse,</p>
+<p class="t0">This holy sermon. Saladin awaits</p>
+<p class="t0">My coming.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Ah, indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          And I'll prepare</p>
+<p class="t0">The Sultan for your presence, reverend Sir,</p>
+<p class="t0">If you desire.</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">               Why, yes! for I have heard</p>
+<p class="t0">You have found favour in the Sultan's sight.</p>
+<p class="t0">I beg to be remembered with respect.</p>
+<p class="t0">Zeal in the cause of God impels me on,</p>
+<p class="t0">And all excesses are performed for Him.</p>
+<p class="t0">Weigh that in kindness, then, most noble Sir!</p>
+<p class="t0">But, tell me, was your case about the Jew</p>
+<p class="t0">A problem merely?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Problem!<span style="letter-spacing:1em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>He retires</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>PATRIARCH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                              (Of the facts,</p>
+<p class="t0">I must have fuller knowledge. I must be</p>
+<p class="t0">Better informed; 'twill be another job</p>
+<p class="t0">For brother Bonafides.) Son, come hither!</p>
+<p class="t3">                    (<i>Speaks with the</i> Friar <i>as he retires</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin's </span><i>Palace</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Slaves are employed in bringing bags of gold, and piling
+them on the floor</i>.)</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin</span>, <span class="sc">Sittah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">In truth, this weary business ne'er will end;</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, is it nearly done?</p>
+
+<h3>A SLAVE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">                           One half is done.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then take the rest to Sittah? Where's Al-Hafi?</p>
+<p class="t0">He must take charge of what is here. But, hold,</p>
+<p class="t0">Were it not best to send it to my father?</p>
+<p class="t0">Here 'twill be quickly spent. I feel, in truth,</p>
+<p class="t0">That I am growing miserly. At last</p>
+<p class="t0">He must be skilful who gets much from me,</p>
+<p class="t0">And till from Egypt further treasure comes,</p>
+<p class="t0">Our poverty must be content to struggle.</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet, at the Holy Sepulchre, the cost</p>
+<p class="t0">Of all the Christian pilgrims must be paid;</p>
+<p class="t0">They must, at least, not go with empty hands.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why, what is this? wherefore this gold to me?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Recoup yourself with it, if aught is left,</p>
+<p class="t0">Keep it in store.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Are Nathan and the Knight</p>
+<p class="t0">Not yet arrived?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     The former everywhere</p>
+<p class="t0">Is seeking him.
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 Behold what I have found</p>
+<p class="t0">In turning o'er my ornaments and jewels (<i>showing a small portrait</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ha! what is here! a portrait! yes, my brother!</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis he--'tis he! <i>Was</i> he--<i>was</i> he, alas!</p>
+<p class="t0">Oh dear, brave youth! so early lost to me!</p>
+<p class="t0">With thee at hand what had I not achieved!</p>
+<p class="t0">Give me the portrait, Sittah. I recall</p>
+<p class="t0">This picture well. He gave it to his Lilla--</p>
+<p class="t0">Your elder sister--when one summer morn</p>
+<p class="t0">He tore himself away reluctantly.</p>
+<p class="t0">She would not yield, but clasped him in her arms.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twas the last morning that he e'er rode forth,</p>
+<p class="t0">And I, alas! I let him ride alone.</p>
+<p class="t0">Poor Lilla died of grief, and ne'er forgave</p>
+<p class="t0">My error that I let him ride alone.</p>
+<p class="t0">He ne'er returned.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Poor brother!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                   Say no more.</p>
+<p class="t0">A few short years, and we shall ne'er return.</p>
+<p class="t0">And then who knows? But 'tis not death alone</p>
+<p class="t0">That blights the hopes and promises of youth,</p>
+<p class="t0">They have far other foes, and oftentimes</p>
+<p class="t0">The strongest, like the weakest, is o'ercome.</p>
+<p class="t0">But be that as it may, I must compare</p>
+<p class="t0">This portrait with the Templar, that I may</p>
+<p class="t0">Observe how much my fancy cheated me.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Twas for that purpose that I brought it here.</p>
+<p class="t0">But give it, and I'll tell thee if 'tis like:</p>
+<p class="t0">We women are best judges of such things.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to the doorkeeper who enters</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who's there? the Templar? Bid him come at once.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not to disturb you, or perplex him with</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0">My curious questions, I'll retire awhile. (<i>Throws herself upon
+the sofa, and lets her veil fall</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That's well. (And now his voice--will that be like?</p>
+<p class="t0">For Assad's voice still slumbers in my soul!)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Templar </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Saladin</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I am your prisoner, Sultan.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                             You my prisoner!</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall I refuse him liberty, whose life</p>
+<p class="t0">I freely spared?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  It is my duty, Sire,</p>
+<p class="t0">To hear, and not anticipate, your will.</p>
+<p class="t0">Yet it but ill becomes my character</p>
+<p class="t0">And station, Sultan, to be thus profuse</p>
+<p class="t0">Of gratitude because you've spared my life--</p>
+<p class="t0">A life which henceforth is at your command.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Only forbear to use it to my hurt.</p>
+<p class="t0">Not that I grudge my mortal enemy</p>
+<p class="t0">Another pair of hands; but such a heart</p>
+<p class="t0">As yours I do not yield him willingly.</p>
+<p class="t0">You valiant youth! I have not gauged you ill:</p>
+<p class="t0">In soul and body, you are truly Assad.</p>
+<p class="t0">I fain would learn where you have been so long</p>
+<p class="t0">Concealed. In what dim cavern you have slept?</p>
+<p class="t0">What spirit, in some region of the blest,</p>
+<p class="t0">Has kept this beauteous flower so fresh in bloom?</p>
+<p class="t0">Methinks I could remind you of our sports</p>
+<p class="t0">In days gone by; and I could chide you, too,</p>
+<p class="t0">For having kept one secret from my ear,</p>
+<p class="t0">For having dared one gallant deed alone.</p>
+<p class="t0">I'm happy that so much of this deceit</p>
+<p class="t0">At least is true, that in my sear of life</p>
+<p class="t0">An Assad blooms for me once more. And you,</p>
+<p class="t0">You too are happy, Knight!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                               Whate'er you will--</p>
+<p class="t0">Whatever be your thought--lies as a wish</p>
+<p class="t0">Within mine inmost soul.
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          We'll prove you, then.</p>
+<p class="t0">Will you abide with me?--cling to my side,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whether as Christian or as Mussulman,</p>
+<p class="t0">In turban or white mantle? Choose your garb--</p>
+<p class="t0">Choose for yourself. I never have desired</p>
+<p class="t0">That the same bark should grow on every tree.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+<p class="t0">Else, Saladin, you never had become</p>
+<p class="t0">The hero that you are--who'd rather be</p>
+<p class="t0">The gardener of the Lord.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                              If thus you think</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Saladin, we're half agreed, already----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, quite!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>offering his hand</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">One word!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>taking it</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          One man! and with this hand</p>
+<p class="t0">Take more than you can e'er take back again.</p>
+<p class="t0">Henceforth I'm wholly yours.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                             This is too much--</p>
+<p class="t0">For one day 'tis too much! Came he not with you?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who?
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">         Who? Nathan.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                           No; I came alone.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, what a deed was thine! what happiness</p>
+<p class="t0">That such a deed should serve so good a man!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Twas nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">             Why so cold, O valiant youth!</p>
+<p class="t0">When God makes man His minister of good,</p>
+<p class="t0">He need not be so cold, nor modestly</p>
+<p class="t0">Wish to appear so cold.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           But in the world</p>
+<p class="t0">All things have many sides, and who is he</p>
+<p class="t0">Can comprehend how they may fit each other?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Cling ever to what's noble, and praise God!</p>
+<p class="t0">He knows how all things fit. But if you are</p>
+<p class="t0">So scrupulous, young man, I must beware.</p>
+<p class="t0">I too have many sides, and some of them</p>
+<p class="t0">May seem to you not always made to fit.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That grieves me; for suspicion, at the least,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is not a sin of mine.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                  Then, tell me, whom</p>
+<p class="t0">Do you suspect? Not Nathan, surely? What!</p>
+<p class="t0">Nathan suspected, and by you? Explain--</p>
+<p class="t0">Afford me this first proof of confidence.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I've nothing against Nathan. I am vexed,</p>
+<p class="t0">But with myself alone.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Why so?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                  For dreaming</p>
+<p class="t0">That any Jew can think himself no Jew.</p>
+<p class="t0">I dreamt this waking.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Tell me all your dream.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You know that Nathan has a daughter, Sultan!</p>
+<p class="t0">And what I did for her, I did--because</p>
+<p class="t0">I did it. Far too proud to reap the thanks</p>
+<p class="t0">I had not sown, from day to day I shunned</p>
+<p class="t0">The maiden's sight. Her father was afar.</p>
+<p class="t0">He comes, he hears, he seeks me, give me thanks;</p>
+<p class="t0">Wishes that she might please me, and he talks</p>
+<p class="t0">Of dawning prospects. Well, I hear it all,</p>
+<p class="t0">I listen to him, go and see the maid--</p>
+<p class="t0">O! such a maiden, Sultan. But, I blush.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why blush? Blush that a Jewish maid should win</p>
+<p class="t0">Your admiration? 'Tis a venial fault.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But oh! that, through her father's sweet discourse,</p>
+<p class="t0">To this impression my o'er-hasty heart</p>
+<p class="t0">Such weak resistance offered! Fool. I leaped</p>
+<p class="t0">A second time into the flame, and then</p>
+<p class="t0">I wooed, and was denied.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                                 Denied?--denied?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The prudent father does not plainly say</p>
+<p class="t0">No, to my suit--but he must first inquire--</p>
+<p class="t0">He must reflect. Well, be it so. Had I</p>
+<p class="t0">Not done the same? I looked about, inquired--</p>
+<p class="t0">Reflected--ere I plunged into the flames</p>
+<p class="t0">Where she was shrieking. Oh, by Heaven! it is</p>
+<p class="t0">A splendid thing to be so circumspect!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, but you must concede somewhat to age.</p>
+<p class="t0">His doubts will pass away, nor will he wish</p>
+<p class="t0">You to become a Jew.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Who knows?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                       Who knows!</p>
+<p class="t0">One who knows Nathan better than yourself.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And yet the superstitions we have learned</p>
+<p class="t0">From education, do not lose their power</p>
+<p class="t0">When we have found them out; nor are all free</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose judgment mocks the galling chains they wear.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis wisely said; but Nathan, surely Nathan----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That superstition is the worst of all</p>
+<p class="t0">Which thinks itself the easiest to be borne----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis possible. But Nathan----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                             And to trust</p>
+<p class="t0">To it alone a blind humanity</p>
+<p class="t0">Till it is used to truth's more brilliant light.</p>
+<p class="t0">To it alone----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Well, well! But Nathan's fate</p>
+<p class="t0">Is not to be so weak----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           I thought so once,</p>
+<p class="t0">But what if this bright pattern to mankind</p>
+<p class="t0">Were such a thorough Jew that he seeks out</p>
+<p class="t0">For Christian children to bring up as Jews?</p>
+<p class="t0">How then?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Who speaks so of him?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     E'en the maid</p>
+<p class="t0">For whom I'm so distressed, with hopes of whom</p>
+<p class="t0">He seemed so glad to recompense the deed</p>
+<p class="t0">He would not suffer me to do for naught.</p>
+<p class="t0">This maid is not his daughter; no, she is</p>
+<p class="t0">A kidnapped Christian child.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    Whom Nathan now</p>
+<p class="t0">Refuses you!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>earnestly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">                Refuse or not refuse,</p>
+<p class="t0">He is found out--the prating hypocrite</p>
+<p class="t0">Is now found out; but on this Jewish wolf,</p>
+<p class="t0">For all his philosophical sheep's garb,</p>
+<p class="t0">Dogs I can loosen who will tear his hide.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>earnestly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Peace, Christian!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">               What! peace, Christian? Wherefore so?</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall Jew and Mussulman be free to boast</p>
+<p class="t0">Their creeds, and shall the Christian be ashamed</p>
+<p class="t0">To own his faith?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>more earnestly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Peace, Christian!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>calmly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                      Yes, I feel</p>
+<p class="t0">What weight of blame lies in your calm reproof--</p>
+<p class="t0">In that one word pronounced by Saladin.</p>
+<p class="t0">Oh! that I knew what Assad would have done</p>
+<p class="t0">Had he but fill'd my place!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            He had not done</p>
+<p class="t0">Much better; nay, perhaps, had been more warm.</p>
+<p class="t0">Where did you learn to bribe me with a word?</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet, in truth, if all has happened so</p>
+<p class="t0">As you narrate, it is not much like Nathan.</p>
+<p class="t0">But Nathan is my friend, and of my friends</p>
+<p class="t0">One must not quarrel with the other. So</p>
+<p class="t0">Take counsel, act with prudence. Do not loose</p>
+<p class="t0">On him the fanatics among your race.</p>
+<p class="t0">Keep silence. All the clergy of your sect</p>
+<p class="t0">Would call to me for vengeance upon him</p>
+<p class="t0">With far more show of right than I could wish.</p>
+<p class="t0">Let not revenge impel you to become</p>
+<p class="t0">A Christian to the Jew or Mussulman.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Thanks to the Patriarch's bloodthirsty rage,</p>
+<p class="t0">Your counsel almost comes too late; and I</p>
+<p class="t0">Had nearly proved his cruel instrument.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How so? and did you see the Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">Before you came to me?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            Yes, in the storm</p>
+<p class="t0">Of passion--in the whirl of doubt----Forgive me.</p>
+<p class="t0">I fear you will no longer find in me</p>
+<p class="t0">One feature of your Assad.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Yes, that fear</p>
+<p class="t0">Is like him. But, methinks, I know full well</p>
+<p class="t0">The weaknesses from which our virtues spring:</p>
+<p class="t0">Attend to these--the former cannot hurt.</p>
+<p class="t0">But go, seek Nathan, as he sought for you,</p>
+<p class="t0">And bring him hither. Be but reconciled.</p>
+<p class="t0">Are you in earnest, Knight, about this maid?</p>
+<p class="t0">Be calm--she shall be yours. Nathan shall feel</p>
+<p class="t0">That without swines-flesh he has dared to rear</p>
+<p class="t0">A Christian child. Now, Templar, leave me. Go!</p>
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0">                (<i>Exit the </i><span class="sc">Templar. Sittah </span><i>leaves the
+sofa</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Sittah</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis strange, indeed.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                   What say you now, my Sittah?</p>
+<p class="t0">Was not our Assad once a handsome youth?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">If this were like him, and 'twere not the knight</p>
+<p class="t0">Who had his portrait taken. But, dear brother,</p>
+<p class="t0">How could you ever so forget yourself</p>
+<p class="t0">As not to make inquiry for his parents?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And more especially about his mother?</p>
+<p class="t0">That was your meaning--eh?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                           You are too quick.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But nothing is more possible; for he,</p>
+<p class="t0">My brother Assad, was so favoured by</p>
+<p class="t0">The Christian ladies--handsome Christian ladies--</p>
+<p class="t0">That a report once spread----But 'tis not right</p>
+<p class="t0">We should refer to that. We'll be content</p>
+<p class="t0">That he is here again, with all his faults,</p>
+<p class="t0">The faults and wildness of his gentle heart--</p>
+<p class="t0">That he is here again. Oh, Nathan must</p>
+<p class="t0">Give him the maid. What think you?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                       What, to him?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Ay! for what claim has Nathan to the girl</p>
+<p class="t0">If he is not her father? He, who saved</p>
+<p class="t0">Her life, may properly assume the rights</p>
+<p class="t0">Of him who gave existence to the maid.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then might not Saladin lay claim to her,</p>
+<p class="t0">Withdrawing her from the unrightful owner?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">There is no need of that.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          No actual need,</p>
+<p class="t0">But female curiosity suggests</p>
+<p class="t0">That counsel to me. There are certain men</p>
+<p class="t0">Of whom I feel impatient till I know</p>
+<p class="t0">What maidens they can love.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                Well send for her.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Brother, may I do that?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        But hurt not Nathan.</p>
+<p class="t0">He must not think that we, by violence,</p>
+<p class="t0">Would separate them.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                           Fear it not.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                        Farewell!</p>
+<p class="t0">I must find out where this Al-Hafi is.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0"><i>The hall in </i><span class="sc">Nathan's </span><i>house, looking towards the
+palm-trees, as in the first Act. Part of the merchandise and treasures unpacked
+and displayed</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Daja</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O, how magnificent are all these things!</p>
+<p class="t0">How rich! they're such as none but you could give.</p>
+<p class="t0">Where was this silver stuff with sprigs of gold</p>
+<p class="t0">Woven? What might it cost? 'Tis what I call</p>
+<p class="t0">A wedding garment. Is there any queen</p>
+<p class="t0">Could wish aught richer?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Why a wedding robe?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">In buying it, you never thought of that.</p>
+<p class="t0">But, Nathan, it must be so--it must, indeed--</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twas made for that. See, here, the pure white ground,</p>
+<p class="t0">Emblem of innocence; that branching gold,</p>
+<p class="t0">Covering the virgin white on every side,</p>
+<p class="t0">Emblem of wealth. Say, is it not divine?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why all this ingenuity of speech?</p>
+<p class="t0">Over whose wedding dress would you display</p>
+<p class="t0">This learning? Have you found a lover, Daja?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What, I?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Who, then?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           I, gracious Heaven?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                           Who, then?</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose wedding garment would you speak of, Daja?</p>
+<p class="t0">All this is yours, 'tis meant for no one else.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What, mine! for me! I thought it was for Recha.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No, what I bought for her is elsewhere packed;</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis in another bale. But, come, away</p>
+<p class="t0">With all this rubbish.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        Nathan, tempt me not,</p>
+<p class="t0">For were these things the very costliest</p>
+<p class="t0">In all the world, I'll touch not one of them</p>
+<p class="t0">Till you have sworn to seize a happy chance</p>
+<p class="t0">Which Heaven ne'er offers twice.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                       What happy chance?</p>
+<p class="t0">What must I seize?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  Nathan, feign not such ignorance.</p>
+<p class="t0">But, in one word--the Templar loves your Recha--</p>
+<p class="t0">Give her to him, and then your sin, which I</p>
+<p class="t0">Can hide no longer, will for ever cease.</p>
+<p class="t0">The maid will then once more resume her place</p>
+<p class="t0">Amongst the Christians, will again become</p>
+<p class="t0">What she was born to, and what once she was;</p>
+<p class="t0">And you, whom we can never thank enough</p>
+<p class="t0">For all your goodness, will not then have heaped</p>
+<p class="t0">More burning coals of fire upon your head.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Still harping on the same old string again,</p>
+<p class="t0">New tuned, but neither to accord nor hold.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How so?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">            The Templar pleases me; 'tis true</p>
+<p class="t0">I'd rather he, than any one, had Recha.</p>
+<p class="t0">But patience.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Patience! and, say, is not that</p>
+<p class="t0">The string you always harp on?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               Still, have patience</p>
+<p class="t0">But for a few days longer. Ha! who comes?</p>
+<p class="t0">A friar! Go ask him what his errand is.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>going</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What can he want?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Give--give before he begs.</p>
+<p class="t0">(Oh, that I knew how I could sound the Knight</p>
+<p class="t0">Without betraying what my motive is!</p>
+<p class="t0">For should I tell it, and my thoughts prove false,</p>
+<p class="t0">I shall have staked the father's rights in vain.)</p>
+<p class="t0">What is the matter?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                                 He would speak with you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Let him approach. Leave us together, Daja.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>and the </i><span class="sc">
+Friar</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">(<i>Aside</i>. Gladly I would continue Recha's father!</p>
+
+<p class="t0">And can I not be so, though I may cease</p>
+<p class="t0">To bear the name? To her--at least to her--</p>
+<p class="t0">I should be father still, if she but knew</p>
+<p class="t0">How willingly I bore that title once.)</p>
+<p class="t0">What can I do to serve you, pious brother?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not much; and yet it gives me pleasure, Nathan,</p>
+<p class="t0">To see at least that you are still so well.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You know me, then, it seems?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Who knows you not?</p>
+<p class="t0">You have impressed your name on many a hand--</p>
+<p class="t0">It has been stamped on mine these many years.</p>
+
+
+<h3>NATHAN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>feeling for his purse</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Come, brother, come; here's to refresh it.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                                  Thanks.</p>
+<p class="t0">That would be robbing poorer men. I will</p>
+<p class="t0">Take nothing; but I beg of you, permit</p>
+<p class="t0">That I refresh your memory with my name;</p>
+<p class="t0">For I can boast of having formerly</p>
+<p class="t0">Placed something in your hand you should not scorn.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Excuse me--I'm ashamed--what was it? Say,</p>
+<p class="t0">And then take for atonement sevenfold</p>
+<p class="t0">The value of the thing.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      Well, first of all,</p>
+<p class="t0">Hear how this very day has brought to mind</p>
+<p class="t0">The pledge I gave you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                                    What! a pledge to me?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not long ago I led a hermit's life</p>
+<p class="t0">On Quarantana, near to Jericho.</p>
+<p class="t0">Some Arab thieves came and attacked my cell;</p>
+<p class="t0">They robbed my oratory, forcing me</p>
+<p class="t0">To follow them. But fortune favoured me.</p>
+<p class="t0">I fled, came hither to the Patriarch,</p>
+<p class="t0">And sought from him another calm retreat,</p>
+<p class="t0">Where I might serve my God in solitude</p>
+<p class="t0">Till death should bless me.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                          Ah! I am on thorns.</p>
+<p class="t0">Be quick! What pledge did you entrust to me?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, Nathan, presently. The Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">Has promised I shall have a hermitage</p>
+<p class="t0">On Tabor, when 'tis vacant; and meanwhile</p>
+<p class="t0">Employs me in this convent as a brother,</p>
+<p class="t0">And here I am at present. But I pine</p>
+<p class="t0">For Tabor fifty times a day; for here</p>
+<p class="t0">He makes me toil at work which I detest.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Be speedy, I beseech you.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                             Well, it chanced</p>
+<p class="t0">Some one has whispered in his ear to-day</p>
+<p class="t0">That a Jew lives hard by, who educates</p>
+<p class="t0">A Christian as his daughter.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              How?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                               Nay, hear.</p>
+<p class="t0">He has commissioned me, if possible,</p>
+<p class="t0">To find this Jew out for him; and he raves</p>
+<p class="t0">Loudly and bitterly against the crime,</p>
+<p class="t0">Which he pronounces as the actual sin</p>
+<p class="t0">Against the Holy Ghost--that is, the sin</p>
+<p class="t0">The greatest, which a sinner can commit.</p>
+<p class="t0">But luckily we can't exactly tell</p>
+<p class="t0">Its nature. But my conscience all at once</p>
+<p class="t0">Was roused, and it occurred to me that I</p>
+<p class="t0">Had once, perhaps, been guilty of this sin.</p>
+<p class="t0">Do you remember, eighteen years ago,</p>
+<p class="t0">When a knight's squire committed to your hands</p>
+<p class="t0">A female infant but a few weeks old?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What say you? Well, in fact there was----</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                               Ay, look--</p>
+<p class="t0">Look well at me--for I'm that squire: 'twas I.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What! you?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">                And he from whom I brought the child</p>
+<p class="t0">Was, if I recollect the matter right,</p>
+<p class="t0">A Lord of Filneck--Wolf von Filneck.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                       Right.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Because the mother died not long before;</p>
+<p class="t0">And he, the father, was obliged to fly</p>
+<p class="t0">To Gaza suddenly. The helpless child</p>
+<p class="t0">Could not accompany him, and therefore he</p>
+<p class="t0">Committed it to you: that was my task.</p>
+<p class="t0">I found you out at Daran.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Right, quite right.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It were no wonder had my memory</p>
+<p class="t0">Deceived me. I have served so many lords.</p>
+<p class="t0">The one who fled was not my master long,</p>
+<p class="t0">He fell at Askalon. His heart was kind.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, yes, and I have much to thank him for.</p>
+<p class="t0">Not once, but many times he saved my life.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O, glorious! then the greater joy for you</p>
+<p class="t0">To educate his daughter.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           You say well.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Where is she now? She is not dead, I hope.</p>
+<p class="t0">Let me not hear, I pray, that she is dead.</p>
+<p class="t0">If no one else have found the secret out,</p>
+<p class="t0">All is yet safe.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          Oh, Nathan, trust me.</p>
+<p class="t0">This is my way of thinking: if the good</p>
+<p class="t0">That I propose to do is intertwined</p>
+<p class="t0">With mischief, then I let the good alone;</p>
+<p class="t0">For we know well enough what mischief is,</p>
+<p class="t0">But not what is the best. 'Twas natural,</p>
+<p class="t0">If you intended to bring up the child</p>
+<p class="t0">With care, that you should rear it as your own.</p>
+<p class="t0">And to have done this lovingly and well,</p>
+<p class="t0">And be thus recompensed, is piteous.</p>
+<p class="t0">It were perhaps more prudent, if the child</p>
+<p class="t0">Had been brought up by some good Christian's hand,</p>
+<p class="t0">In her own faith. But then you had not loved</p>
+<p class="t0">Your dear friend's orphan child; and children need</p>
+<p class="t0">Love--were it but the affection of a brute--</p>
+<p class="t0">More at that age, than Christianity:</p>
+<p class="t0">There's always time enough for that: and if</p>
+<p class="t0">The maiden had grown up before your eyes,</p>
+<p class="t0">Healthy and pious, she had then remained</p>
+<p class="t0">The same as ever in her Maker's eyes.</p>
+<p class="t0">For is not Christianity all built</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon the Jewish creed? Oh oft, too oft,</p>
+<p class="t0">It vexes me and costs me bitter tears,</p>
+<p class="t0">To think that Christians will so constantly</p>
+<p class="t0">Forget that Christ our Saviour was a Jew.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Good brother, you shall be my advocate,</p>
+<p class="t0">When hate and bigotry shall frown on me,</p>
+<p class="t0">All for a deed--which you alone shall hear--</p>
+<p class="t0">But take it with you to the tomb. As yet</p>
+<p class="t0">E'en vanity has never tempted me</p>
+<p class="t0">To breathe it to a soul; to you alone</p>
+<p class="t0">It shall be told; for simple piety</p>
+<p class="t0">Like yours can truly feel what man can do</p>
+<p class="t0">Who places his full confidence in God.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You're moved, and your eyes run o'er with tears.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">At Daran 'twas you met me with the child.</p>
+<p class="t0">You had not heard that, a few days before,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Christians murdered every Jew in Gath--</p>
+<p class="t0">Woman and child. Amongst them was my wife--</p>
+<p class="t0">Along with her, my seven hopeful sons.</p>
+<p class="t0">All had sought shelter 'neath my brother's roof,</p>
+<p class="t0">And there were burnt alive.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 Just God!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                                You came.</p>
+<p class="t0">Three nights in dust and ashes I had lain</p>
+<p class="t0">Before my God and wept; and I at times</p>
+<p class="t0">Arraigned my Maker, raged, and cursed myself</p>
+<p class="t0">And the whole world together, and I swore</p>
+<p class="t0">Eternal hate to Christianity.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who can condemn you? I believe it well.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But by degrees returning reason came,</p>
+<p class="t0">And spoke with gentle accent: &quot;God is just!</p>
+<p class="t0">And this was His decree. Now exercise</p>
+<p class="t0">The lesson thou so long hast understood,</p>
+<p class="t0">And which is surely not more difficult</p>
+<p class="t0">To exercise than well to understand.&quot;</p>
+<p class="t0">I rose and cried to God, &quot;I will, I will!</p>
+<p class="t0">Do Thou but aid my purpose.&quot; And, behold,</p>
+<p class="t0">Just at that moment you dismounted. You</p>
+<p class="t0">Gave me the child enfolded in your robe.</p>
+<p class="t0">The words we spoke occur not to me now.</p>
+<p class="t0">This much I recollect: I took the child;</p>
+<p class="t0">I bore it to my bed; I kissed its cheek;</p>
+<p class="t0">I flung myself upon my knees, and sobbed,</p>
+<p class="t0">&quot;My God, Thou hast restored me one of seven!&quot;</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nathan, you are a Christian. Yes, I swear</p>
+<p class="t0">You are a Christian--better never lived.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Indeed! the very thing that makes me seem</p>
+<p class="t0">Christian to you, makes you a Jew to me.</p>
+<p class="t0">But let us not distress each other thus,</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis time to act, and though a sevenfold love</p>
+<p class="t0">Had bound me to this strange, this lovely maid,</p>
+<p class="t0">Though the mere thought distracts me, that in her</p>
+<p class="t0">I lose my seven dear sons a second time,</p>
+<p class="t0">If Providence require her at my hands</p>
+<p class="t0">I'm ready to obey.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    'Tis well! And thus</p>
+<p class="t0">I thought to counsel you; but there's no need:</p>
+<p class="t0">Your own good genius has forestalled my words.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The first chance claimant must not tear her hence.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Most surely not.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 And he who has no claim</p>
+<p class="t0">Stronger than mine--at least he ought to have</p>
+<p class="t0">Those prior claims which----</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 Certainly,</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                        Those claims</p>
+<p class="t0">Which are derived from nature and from blood.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">In my opinion, yes.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Then name the man</p>
+<p class="t0">As brother, or as uncle, bound to her,</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll not withhold her from him; she was made</p>
+<p class="t0">To be the ornament of any house,</p>
+<p class="t0">The pride of any faith. I hope you know</p>
+<p class="t0">More of your master and his creed than I.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">On that point, Nathan, I'm but ill informed,</p>
+<p class="t0">I have already told you that I spent</p>
+<p class="t0">Only some moments with him.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                              Can you tell</p>
+<p class="t0">The mother's name, at least? She was, I think,</p>
+<p class="t0">A Stauffen?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Possibly; nay, more--you're right.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Conrad of Stauffen was her brother's name.</p>
+<p class="t0">He was a Templar.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Yes, I think he was:</p>
+<p class="t0">But hold, I have a book that was my lord's.</p>
+<p class="t0">I drew it from his bosom when he lay</p>
+<p class="t0">Dead, and we buried him at Askalon.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">         There are prayers in it; 'tis what we call</p>
+<p class="t0">A breviary. This, thought I, yet may serve</p>
+<p class="t0">Some Christian man--not me, forsooth--for I</p>
+<p class="t0">Can't read a word.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     No matter--to the point.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The pages of this book are written all</p>
+<p class="t0">In his own hand, and, as I'm told, contain</p>
+<p class="t0">All that's important touching him and her.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Go, run and fetch the book: 'tis fortunate!</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll pay you for it with its weight in gold.</p>
+<p class="t0">And with a thousand thanks besides. Go! run!</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I go--but what he wrote is Arabic.<span style="letter-spacing:1em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Exit</i>)</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No matter, fetch it. What, if from this book</p>
+<p class="t0">I can find means to keep this precious girl,</p>
+<p class="t0">And win, to boot, a son-in-law like him!</p>
+<p class="t0">I hardly hope--fate must decide. But who</p>
+<p class="t0">Has told the Patriarch this? I must not fail</p>
+<p class="t0">To ascertain. It surely was not Daja?</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Daja </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Nathan</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>rushing in in agitation</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Only think, Nathan!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           What?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                  Well--only think:</p>
+<p class="t0"> The child was frightened when the message came!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">From whom? The Patriarch?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                     The Sultan's sister,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Princess Sittah--</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Not the Patriarch?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No, Sittah. Can't you hear? The Princess sends,</p>
+<p class="t0">And wishes Recha to be brought to her.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Wishes for Recha! Sittah wishes thus?</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis Sittah, then--and not the Patriarch?
+
+ <h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why do you speak of him?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Have you not heard</p>
+<p class="t0">Some tidings of him lately? Have you seen</p>
+<p class="t0">Nothing of him, and whispered nothing to him?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How could I so?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Where are the messengers?</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">They stand without.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       I'll speak to them myself--</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis prudent; I shall see if nothing lurks</p>
+<p class="t0">Behind this message, from the Patriarch. (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>DAJA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, I have other fears. The only child,</p>
+<p class="t0">As they suppose, of such a wealthy Jew,</p>
+<p class="t0">Would for a Mussulman be no bad thing.</p>
+<p class="t0">I'll wager that the Templar loses her,</p>
+<p class="t0">Unless I risk a second step, and state</p>
+<p class="t0">Plainly to Recha who she is. So, courage!</p>
+<p class="t0">And to do this I must at once employ</p>
+<p class="t0">The first brief moments when we are alone.</p>
+<p class="t0">Chance serves: she waits for me, and on the way</p>
+<p class="t0">An earnest hint will never prove amiss.</p>
+<p class="t0">So now or never. All will soon be well. (<i>Follows Nathan</i>.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>ACT V.</h2>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">Scene</span> I.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><i>The room in </i><span class="sc">
+Saladin's </span><i>Palace. The treasure still piled up</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">(<span class="sc">Saladin</span>, <i>and several Mamelukes</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>as he enters</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">There lies the gold--and no one yet has seen</p>
+<p class="t0">The Dervise. He will probably be found</p>
+<p class="t0">Over the chess-board. Play can often make</p>
+<p class="t0">A man forget himself. Then why not me?</p>
+<p class="t0">But patience. What's the matter?</p>
+
+<h3>1ST MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                   Oh, good news!</p>
+<p class="t0">Joy, Sultan! joy. The Cairo caravan</p>
+<p class="t0">Is safe arrived, and from the Nile it brings</p>
+<p class="t0">The seven years' tribute.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                         Bravo, Ibrahim!</p>
+<p class="t0">You always were a welcome messenger,</p>
+<p class="t0">And now at length--accept my heartfelt thanks</p>
+<p class="t0">For the good tidings.</p>
+
+<h3>1ST MAMELUKE <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>waiting</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                                (Let me have them, then!)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What are you waiting for? Go.</p>
+
+<h3>1ST MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                             Nothing more</p>
+<p class="t0">For my good news?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                           What further?</p>
+
+<h3>1ST MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                       Messengers</p>
+<p class="t0">Of good are paid. Am I to be the first</p>
+<p class="t0">Whom Saladin has learnt to pay with words?</p>
+<p class="t0">The first to whom he proves ungenerous?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Go, take a purse.</p>
+
+<h3>1ST MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                        No, no--not now. Not if</p>
+<p class="t0">You'd give them all to me.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                         All? Hold, young man!</p>
+<p class="t0">Come hither. Take these purses--take these two.</p>
+<p class="t0">What, going? And shall I be conquered thus</p>
+<p class="t0">In generosity? for surely 'tis</p>
+<p class="t0">More difficult for this man to refuse</p>
+<p class="t0">Than for the Sultan to bestow. Then, here</p>
+<p class="t0">Here, Ibrahim! Shall I be tempted, just</p>
+<p class="t0">Before my death, to be a different man?</p>
+<p class="t0">Shall Saladin not die like Saladin?</p>
+<p class="t0">Then wherefore has he lived like Saladin?</p>
+
+<p class="t0">(<i>Enter a second Mameluke</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>2ND MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Hail, Sultan!</p>
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 If you come and bring the news----</p>
+
+<h3>2ND MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That the Egyptian convoy is arrived.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I know it.</p>
+
+<h3>2ND MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Then I come too late.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                   Too late?</p>
+<p class="t0">Wherefore too late? There, for your tidings take</p>
+<p class="t0">A purse or two.</p>
+
+<h3>2ND MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">Say three.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                  You reckon well;</p>
+<p class="t0">But take them.</p>
+
+<h3>2ND MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   A third messenger will come</p>
+<p class="t0">Ere long, if he be able.</p>
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           Wherefore so?</p>
+
+<h3>2ND MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He may perhaps, ere this, have brok'n his neck.</p>
+<p class="t0">We three, when we had heard of the approach</p>
+<p class="t0">Of the rich caravan, mounted our steeds,</p>
+<p class="t0">And galloped hitherward. The foremost fell,</p>
+<p class="t0">Then I was first, and I continued so</p>
+<p class="t0">Into the town; but that sly fellow there,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who knew the streets----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       But where is he who fell?</p>
+<p class="t0">Go seek him out.</p>
+
+<h3>2ND MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   That I will quickly do,</p>
+<p class="t0">And if he lives, one half of this is his.<span style="letter-spacing:1em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, what a noble fellow! who can boast</p>
+<p class="t0">Such Mamelukes as these? And may I not,</p>
+<p class="t0">Without conceit, imagine that my life</p>
+<p class="t0">Has helped to make them so? Avaunt the thought!</p>
+<p class="t0">That I should ever teach them otherwise.</p>
+
+<h3>3RD MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Sultan!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">               Are you the man who fell?</p>
+
+<h3>3RD MAMELUKE.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                      No, Sire.</p>
+<p class="t0">I have to tell you that the Emir Mansor,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who led the caravan, is just arrived.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then bring him quickly.--There he is already.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> II.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Emir </i><span class="sc">Mansor </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Saladin</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Emir, you're welcome! What has happened to you,</p>
+<p class="t0">Mansor? we have expected you for long.</p>
+
+<h3>MANSOR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">This letter will explain how, in Thebais,</p>
+<p class="t0">Some discontents required the sabred hand</p>
+<p class="t0">Of Abulkassen. But, since then, our march</p>
+<p class="t0">Has been pressed forward.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            I believe it all.</p>
+<p class="t0">But take, good Mansor--take, without delay,</p>
+<p class="t0">Another escort if you will proceed,</p>
+<p class="t0">And take the treasure on to Lebanon:</p>
+<p class="t0">The greater part is destined for my father.</p>
+
+<h3>MANSOR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Most willingly.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  And let your escort be</p>
+<p class="t0">A strong and trusty one, for Lebanon</p>
+<p class="t0">Is far from quiet, and the Templars there</p>
+<p class="t0">Are on the stir again; be cautious, then</p>
+<p class="t0">Come, I must see your troop, and order all.</p>
+<p class="t0">(<i>To a slave</i>.) Say I shall presently return to Sittah.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> III.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>The palm-trees before </i><span class="sc">Nathan's </span><i>
+house</i>.)</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>, <i>walking up and
+down</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Into this house I never enter more:</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll come to me at last. Yet, formerly,</p>
+<p class="t0">They used to watch for me with longing eyes;</p>
+<p class="t0">And now----The time may come he'll send to beg,</p>
+<p class="t0">Most civilly, that I will get me hence,</p>
+<p class="t0">And not pace up and down before his door!</p>
+<p class="t0">No matter: though I feel a little hurt.</p>
+<p class="t0">I know not what has thus embittered me:</p>
+<p class="t0">He answered yes, and has refused me naught,</p>
+<p class="t0">So far, and Saladin has pledged himself</p>
+<p class="t0">To bring him round. Say, does the Christian live</p>
+<p class="t0">Deeper in me than the Jew lurks in him?</p>
+<p class="t0">Ah! who can truly estimate himself?</p>
+<p class="t0">How comes it else that I should grudge him so</p>
+<p class="t0">The trifling booty, which he took such pains</p>
+<p class="t0">To rob the Christians of? No trifling theft!</p>
+<p class="t0">No less than such a creature! And to whom</p>
+<p class="t0">Does she belong? Oh, surely not to him,</p>
+<p class="t0">The thoughtless slave, who floated the mere block</p>
+<p class="t0">On to life's barren strand, then disappeared.</p>
+<p class="t0">Rather to him, the artist, whose fine soul</p>
+<p class="t0">Has from the block moulded this godlike form,</p>
+<p class="t0">And graved it there. And yet in spite of him,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Christian, who begot this beauteous maid,</p>
+<p class="t0">Recha's true father must be still the Jew.</p>
+<p class="t0">Were I to fancy her a Christian now,</p>
+<p class="t0">Bereft of all the Jew has given to her--</p>
+<p class="t0">Which only such a Jew could have bestowed--</p>
+<p class="t0">Speak out, my heart--where would have been her charm'</p>
+<p class="t0">It had been nothing--little; then her smile</p>
+<p class="t0">Had been a pretty twisting of the mouth</p>
+<p class="t0">And that which caused it were unworthy deemed</p>
+<p class="t0">Of the enchantment blooming on her lips.</p>
+<p class="t0">No: not her very smile! I've seen sweet smiles</p>
+<p class="t0">Squandered on pride, on foppery, on lies,</p>
+<p class="t0">On flatterers, on wicked wooers spent:</p>
+<p class="t0">And did they charm me then? Did they awake</p>
+<p class="t0">The wish to flutter out existence in</p>
+<p class="t0">Their sunshine? And I'm angry now with him</p>
+<p class="t0">Who gave this higher value to the maid?</p>
+<p class="t0">And wherefore so? Do I deserve the taunt</p>
+<p class="t0">With which I was dismissed by Saladin?</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twas bad enough he should think thus of me.</p>
+<p class="t0">How wicked, how contemptible, alas!</p>
+<p class="t0">I must have seemed to him! And for a girl!</p>
+<p class="t0">Conrad, this will not do. Avaunt such thoughts!</p>
+<p class="t0">And what if Daja has been chattering</p>
+<p class="t0">Of things not easy to be proved? But see,</p>
+<p class="t0">He comes, engaged in converse; and with whom?</p>
+<p class="t0">With him, the Friar. Then he knows all: perhaps</p>
+<p class="t0">He has betrayed him to the Patriarch.</p>
+<p class="t0">O Conrad! what vile mischief hast thou done!</p>
+<p class="t0">O! that one spark of love, that wayward passion,</p>
+<p class="t0">Should so inflame the brain! But, quick! resolve;</p>
+<p class="t0">What's to be done? Stay, step aside awhile;</p>
+<p class="t0">Perhaps the Friar will leave him. Let us see.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>and the </i><span class="sc">
+Friar</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>approaching him</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Good brother, once more, thanks.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                         The same to you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why thanks from you? Because I'm wayward, and</p>
+<p class="t0">Would force upon you what you cannot use?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The book you have did not belong to me.</p>
+<p class="t0">It is the maid's, is all her property,</p>
+<p class="t0">Her only patrimony--save yourself.</p>
+<p class="t0">God grant you ne'er have reason to repent</p>
+<p class="t0">Of what you've done for her!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    Impossible!</p>
+<p class="t0">That cannot be. Fear not.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            Alas! alas!</p>
+<p class="t0">These Patriarchs and Templars----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    Cannot work</p>
+<p class="t0">Such evil as to force me to repent.</p>
+<p class="t0">But are you sure it is a Templar who</p>
+<p class="t0">Urges the Patriarch?</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                         It is none else;</p>
+<p class="t0">A Templar talked with him just now, and all</p>
+<p class="t0">I hear confirms the rumour.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            But there is</p>
+<p class="t0">Only one Templar in Jerusalem,</p>
+<p class="t0">And him I know. He is a friend of mine,</p>
+<p class="t0">A noble, open-hearted youth.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               The same.</p>
+<p class="t0">But what one is at heart, and what one must</p>
+<p class="t0">Appear in active life, are not the same.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Alas! 'tis true. And so let every one</p>
+<p class="t0">Act as he will, and do his best, or worst.</p>
+<p class="t0">With your book, brother, I defy them all!</p>
+<p class="t0">I'm going straightway with it to the Sultan.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Then God be with you! Here I take my leave.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What! without seeing her? But come again,</p>
+<p class="t0">Come soon--come often. If the Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">To-day learns nothing. Well! no matter now!</p>
+<p class="t0">Tell him the whole to-day, or when you will.</p>
+
+<h3>FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not I. Farewell!<span style="letter-spacing:3em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> (<i>Exit</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Do not forget us, brother!</p>
+<p class="t0">O God! I could sink down upon my knees,</p>
+<p class="t0">Here on this spot! Behold, the knotted skein</p>
+<p class="t0">Which has so often troubled me, at last</p>
+<p class="t0">Untangles of itself. I feel at ease,</p>
+<p class="t0">Since henceforth nothing in this world remains</p>
+<p class="t0">That I need hide. Henceforth, I am as free</p>
+<p class="t0">Before mankind, as in the sight of God.</p>
+<p class="t0">Who only does not need to judge us men</p>
+<p class="t0">By deeds, which oftentimes are not our own.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> V.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>and the </i><span class="sc">
+Templar</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>The latter advancing towards him from the side</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Hold, Nathan, hold! Take me along with you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who calls? You, Templar! Where can you have been</p>
+<p class="t0">That you could not be met with at the Sultan's?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">We missed each other; do not be displeased.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not I, but Saladin.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           You had just gone.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, then, you spoke with him. I'm satisfied.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes; but he wants to talk with us together.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">So much the better. Come with me; I go</p>
+<p class="t0">Direct to him.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                Say, Nathan, may I ask</p>
+<p class="t0">Who left you even now?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">                         What! don't you know?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Was it that worthy fellow, the good friar,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whom the old Patriarch employs at will</p>
+<p class="t0">To work his ends?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    The same--the very same.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis a prime hit to make simplicity</p>
+<p class="t0">The workman of deceit.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          Yes, if he use</p>
+<p class="t0">The fool, and not the pious man.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    This last</p>
+<p class="t0">The Patriarch ne'er trusts.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                              Depend on this,</p>
+<p class="t0">That man will not assist the Patriarch</p>
+<p class="t0">To a wicked end.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    Well, so I think myself.</p>
+<p class="t0">But has he told you aught of me?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                    Of you?</p>
+<p class="t0">He scarcely knows your name.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                  That's like enough.
+
+ <h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He spoke to me about a Templar, who----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who what?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">            But then he never mentioned you.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who knows? Come tell me, Nathan, all he said.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who has accused me to the Patriarch?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Accused you! With his leave, that is untrue.</p>
+<p class="t0">No! Hear me, Nathan! I am not the man</p>
+<p class="t0">E'er to deny my actions. What I've done</p>
+<p class="t0">I've done--and there's an end. Nor am I one</p>
+<p class="t0">Who would maintain that all I've done is right.</p>
+<p class="t0">But should one fault condemn me? Am I not</p>
+<p class="t0">Resolved on better deeds for time to come?</p>
+<p class="t0">And who is ignorant how much the man</p>
+<p class="t0">Who wills it may improve? Then hear me, Nathan:</p>
+<p class="t0">I am the Templar talked of by the Friar,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who has accused--you know what maddened me,</p>
+<p class="t0">What set my blood on fire within my veins--</p>
+<p class="t0">Fool that I was! I had almost resolved</p>
+<p class="t0">To fling myself both soul and body, straight</p>
+<p class="t0">Into your arms. But how was I received?</p>
+<p class="t0">How did you meet me, Nathan? Cold--or worse.</p>
+<p class="t0">Lukewarm--far worse than cold. With cautious words,</p>
+<p class="t0">Well weighed and measured, Nathan, you took care</p>
+<p class="t0">To put me off, and with calm questions, asked</p>
+<p class="t0">About my parentage, and God knows what,</p>
+<p class="t0">You sought to meet my suit. I cannot now</p>
+<p class="t0">Dwell on it and be patient. Hear me further.</p>
+<p class="t0">While in this ferment, Daja suddenly</p>
+<p class="t0">Drew near to me and whispered in my ear</p>
+<p class="t0">A secret which cleared up the mystery.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What was it?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Hear me to the end. I thought</p>
+<p class="t0">The treasure you had from the Christians stolen,</p>
+<p class="t0">You would not promptly to a Christian yield;</p>
+<p class="t0">And so the project struck me, with good speed,</p>
+<p class="t0">To bring you to extremities.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                          Good speed?</p>
+<p class="t0">Good, good? pray where's the good!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                But hear me out.</p>
+<p class="t0">I own my error; you are free from guilt;</p>
+<p class="t0">That prating Daja knows not what she says.</p>
+<p class="t0">She's hostile to you, and she seeks to twine</p>
+<p class="t0">A dangerous snare around you. Be it so.</p>
+<p class="t0">I'm but a crazed enthusiast, doubly mad,</p>
+<p class="t0">Aiming at far too much, or much too little.</p>
+<p class="t0">That may be also true. Forgive me, Nathan.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">If you conceive thus of me----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                            Well, in short.</p>
+<p class="t0">I saw the Patriarch--but named you not.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twas false to say so, for I only told</p>
+<p class="t0">The case in general terms, to sound his mind.</p>
+<p class="t0">And that I also might have left undone,</p>
+<p class="t0">For knew I not the Patriarch to be</p>
+<p class="t0">An arrant, subtle knave? And might I not</p>
+<p class="t0">As well have told you all the case at first?</p>
+<p class="t0">Or was it right in me to risk the loss</p>
+<p class="t0">Of such a father to the hapless maid?</p>
+<p class="t0">But what has happened now? The Patriarch,</p>
+<p class="t0">Ever consistent in his villainy,</p>
+<p class="t0">Has all at once restored me to myself.</p>
+<p class="t0">For hear me, Nathan, hear me! Were he now</p>
+<p class="t0">To learn your name, what more could then occur?</p>
+<p class="t0">He cannot seize the maid, if she belong</p>
+<p class="t0">To some one else, and not to you alone.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis from your house alone she can be dragged</p>
+<p class="t0">Into a convent: grant her, then, I pray,</p>
+<p class="t0">Grant her to me! Then come the Patriarch!</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll hardly dare to take my wife from me.</p>
+<p class="t0">Oh! give her to me. Be she yours or not--</p>
+<p class="t0">Your daughter--Christian--Jewess--'tis all one--</p>
+<p class="t0">Or be she nothing--I will ne'er inquire,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or in my lifetime ask you what she is,</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis all alike to me.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      Do you then think</p>
+<p class="t0">That to conceal the truth I am compelled?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No matter.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">             I have ne'er denied the truth</p>
+<p class="t0">To you, or any one whom it concerned</p>
+<p class="t0">To know the fact, that she's of Christian birth,</p>
+<p class="t0">And that the maid is my adopted child.</p>
+<p class="t0">Why I have not informed her of the truth,</p>
+<p class="t0">I need explain to none but to herself.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nathan; no need of that, it were not well</p>
+<p class="t0">That she should see you in a different light;</p>
+<p class="t0">Then spare her the discovery. As yet</p>
+<p class="t0">She's yours alone--no other's--to bestow.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then grant her to me, Nathan, I implore--</p>
+<p class="t0">Grant her to me: I only, I alone,</p>
+<p class="t0">Can rescue her a second time--and will.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, you could once have saved her, but alas!</p>
+<p class="t0">'Tis now too late.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Too late! ah! say not so.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Thanks to the Patriarch.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                         Why, thanks to him?</p>
+<p class="t0">Why should we thank the Patriarch! For what?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">That now we know her relatives, and know</p>
+<p class="t0">Into whose hands Recha may be restored.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Let him give thanks who shall have better cause</p>
+<p class="t0">To thank him.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 But you must receive her now</p>
+<p class="t0">From other hands than mine.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                Alas, poor maid!</p>
+<p class="t0">O hapless Recha! what has chanced to thee,</p>
+<p class="t0">That what to other orphans had appeared</p>
+<p class="t0">A real blessing, is to thee a curse!</p>
+<p class="t0">But, Nathan, where are these new relatives?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Where are they?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    Ay, both where and who are they?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Her brother is discovered, and to him</p>
+<p class="t0">You must address yourself.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               Her brother! Ha!</p>
+<p class="t0">And what is he--a soldier or a priest?</p>
+<p class="t0">Tell me at once what I've to hope from him.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I hear he's neither--or he's both. As yet</p>
+<p class="t0">I do not know him thoroughly.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 What more?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He is a gallant fellow, and with him</p>
+<p class="t0">Recha may be content.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       But he's a Christian.</p>
+<p class="t0">At times I know not what to make of you.</p>
+<p class="t0">Take it not ill, good Nathan, that I ask,</p>
+<p class="t0">Must she not henceforth play the Christian,</p>
+<p class="t0">Associate with Christians, and at last</p>
+<p class="t0">Become the character she long has played?</p>
+<p class="t0">Will not the tares at length grow up and choke</p>
+<p class="t0">The pure wheat you have sown? And does not that</p>
+<p class="t0">Affect you? Yet you say she'll be content</p>
+<p class="t0">When with her brother.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                            As I think and hope.</p>
+<p class="t0">For should she e'er have need of anything,</p>
+<p class="t0">Has she not you and me?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        What can she need</p>
+<p class="t0">When with her brother. Gladly he'll provide</p>
+<p class="t0">His dear new sister with a thousand robes,</p>
+<p class="t0">With dainties, and with toys and finery.</p>
+<p class="t0">And what could any sister wish for more--</p>
+<p class="t0">Unless, perhaps, a husband? And him too,</p>
+<p class="t0">Him too the brother, in due time, will find;</p>
+<p class="t0">And the more Christian he, the better!--Nathan,</p>
+<p class="t0">How sad to think the angel you have formed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Should now be marred by others!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                      Be assured</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll always prove deserving of our love.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay speak not so; of my love, speak not so,</p>
+<p class="t0">For it can brook no loss, however small,</p>
+<p class="t0">Not e'en a name. But, hold! Has she as yet</p>
+<p class="t0">Any suspicion of these late events?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis possible, and yet I know not how.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It matters not; she must, in either case,</p>
+<p class="t0">First learn from me what fate is threat'ning her.</p>
+<p class="t0">My purpose not to speak with her again,</p>
+<p class="t0">And ne'er to see her more, till I should call</p>
+<p class="t0">Your Recha mine, is gone. I take my leave.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Nay, whither would you go?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               At once to her,</p>
+<p class="t0">To learn if she be bold enough at heart,</p>
+<p class="t0">To fix upon the only course that now</p>
+<p class="t0">Is worthy of her.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Name it.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               It is this:</p>
+<p class="t0">That henceforth she should never care to know</p>
+<p class="t0">Aught of her brother or of you.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 What more?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To follow me--even if it were her fate</p>
+<p class="t0">To wed a Mussulman.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Stay, Templar, stay!</p>
+<p class="t0">You will not find her. She's with Sittah now,</p>
+<p class="t0">The Sultan's sister.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                      Wherefore, and since when?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">If you desire to see her brother, come,</p>
+<p class="t0">Follow me straight.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Her brother, say you? Whose?</p>
+<p class="t0">Recha's, or Sittah's?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                      Both--ay, both, perhaps.</p>
+<p class="t0">But come this way, I pray you. Come with me.</p>
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0">(<span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>leads
+the </i><span class="sc">Templar </span><i>away</i>.)</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VI.--<span style="font-weight: 400"><span class="sc">Sittah's </span><i>harem</i></span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sittah </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">
+Recha </span><i>engaged in conversation</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">How I am pleased with you, sweet girl. But, come,</p>
+<p class="t0">Shake off these fears, and be no more alarmed,</p>
+<p class="t0">Be happy, cheerful. Let me hear you talk.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Princess!
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">Nay, child, not princess! Call me friend,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or Sittah--or your sister--or dear mother,</p>
+<p class="t0">For I might well be so to you--so good,</p>
+<p class="t0">So prudent, and so young! How much you know,</p>
+<p class="t0">How much you must have read!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    Read, Sittah! now</p>
+<p class="t0">You're mocking me, for I can scarcely read.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Scarce read, you young deceiver!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                   Yes, perhaps</p>
+<p class="t0">My father's hand; I thought you spoke of books.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And so I did--of books.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        They puzzle me</p>
+<p class="t0">To read.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">         Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   I speak, in veriest truth.</p>
+<p class="t0">My father hates book-learning, which he says,</p>
+<p class="t0">Makes an impression only on the brain</p>
+<p class="t0">With lifeless letters.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Well, he's right in that.</p>
+<p class="t0">And so the greater part of what you know----</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I've learnt from his own mouth, and I can tell</p>
+<p class="t0">The when, the where, and why he taught it me.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">So it clings closer, and the soul drinks in</p>
+<p class="t0">The full instruction.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        Yes, and Sittah, too,</p>
+<p class="t0">Has not read much.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     How so? I am not vain</p>
+<p class="t0">Of having read, and yet why say you so?</p>
+<p class="t0">Speak boldly. Tell the reason.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                    She's so plain--</p>
+<p class="t0">So free from artifice--so like herself.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">        And my father says 'tis rarely books</p>
+<p class="t0">Work that effect.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 Oh, what a man he is,</p>
+<p class="t0">Dear Recha!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">              Is he not?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        He never fails</p>
+<p class="t0">To hit the mark.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 Yes, yes; and yet this father----</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What ails you, love?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                     This father----</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                   Oh my God!</p>
+<p class="t0">You're weeping.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+<p class="t3">                  And this father--it must forth--</p>
+<p class="t0">My heart wants room, wants room----</p>
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0">(<i>Throws herself in tears at </i><span class="sc">Sittah's </span><i>feet</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                    What ails you, Recha?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Yes, I must lose this father!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                          Lose him--never!</p>
+<p class="t0">Why so? Be calm. Courage! it must not be.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your offer to be friend and sister to me</p>
+<p class="t0">Will now not be in vain.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                              Yes, I am both.</p>
+<p class="t0">Arise, arise, or I must call for help.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">O pardon! I forget, through agony,</p>
+<p class="t0">With whom I speak. Tears, sobbing, and despair</p>
+<p class="t0">Are naught with Sittah. Reason, calm and cool,</p>
+<p class="t0">Is over her alone omnipotent.</p>
+<p class="t0">No other argument avails with her.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, then?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">             My friend and sister, suffer not</p>
+<p class="t0">Another father to be forced on me.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Another father to be forced on you!</p>
+<p class="t0">Who can do that, or wish to do it, love?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who but my good, my evil genius, Daja?</p>
+<p class="t0">She can both wish it and perform the deed.</p>
+<p class="t0">You do not know this good, this evil Daja.</p>
+<p class="t0">May God forgive her, and reward her, too,</p>
+<p class="t0">For she has done me good and evil, both.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Evil? Then she has little goodness left.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, she has much.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   Who is she?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                  Who? a Christian,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who cared for me in childhood's early years.</p>
+<p class="t0">You cannot know how little she allowed</p>
+<p class="t0">That I should miss a mother's tender cares--</p>
+<p class="t0">May God reward her for it!--but she has</p>
+<p class="t0">Worried and tortured me.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                              Wherefore, and how?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Poor woman, she's a Christian, and from love</p>
+<p class="t0">Has tortured me: a warm enthusiast,</p>
+<p class="t0">Who thinks she only knows the real road</p>
+<p class="t0">That leads to God.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    I understand you now.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And one of those who feel in duty bound</p>
+<p class="t0">To point it out to every one who strays</p>
+<p class="t0">From the plain path, to lead, to drag them in.</p>
+<p class="t0">And who can censure them? for if the road</p>
+<p class="t0">They travel is the only one that's safe,</p>
+<p class="t0">They cannot, without pain, behold their friends</p>
+<p class="t0">Pursue a path that lead to endless woe,</p>
+<p class="t0">Else, at the self-same time, 'twere possible</p>
+<p class="t0">To love and hate another. Nor does this</p>
+<p class="t0">Alone compel me to complain aloud.</p>
+<p class="t0">Her groans, her prayers, her warnings, and her threats</p>
+<p class="t0">I could have borne much longer willingly.</p>
+<p class="t0">They always called up good and wholesome thoughts.</p>
+<p class="t0">Who is not flattered to be held so dear,</p>
+<p class="t0">And precious by another, that the thought</p>
+<p class="t0">Of parting pierces him with lasting pain?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">This is most true.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                   And yet this goes too far,</p>
+<p class="t0">And I have nothing to oppose to it--</p>
+<p class="t0">Patience, reflection, nothing.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                How? to what?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">To what she has disclosed to me.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                   Say, when?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis scarce an instant. Coming hither</p>
+<p class="t0">We passed a Christian temple on our way;</p>
+<p class="t0">She all at once stood still, seemed inly moved,</p>
+<p class="t0">Raised her moist eyes to heaven, then looked on me.</p>
+<p class="t0">&quot;Come,&quot; she exclaimed at length, &quot;come straight on here,</p>
+<p class="t0">Through this old fane.&quot; She leads, I follow her.</p>
+<p class="t0">My eyes with horror overrun the dim</p>
+<p class="t0">And tottering ruin: all at once she stops</p>
+<p class="t0">By a low ruined altar's sunken steps.</p>
+<p class="t0">O, how I felt, when there, with streaming eyes</p>
+<p class="t0">And wringing hands, down at my feet she fell!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Good child!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">            And, by the Holy Virgin, who had heard</p>
+<p class="t0">So many suppliants' prayers, and had performed</p>
+<p class="t0">Full many a wonder there, she begged, implored</p>
+<p class="t0">With looks of heart-felt sympathy and love,</p>
+<p class="t0">That I would now take pity on myself,</p>
+<p class="t0">And pardon her for daring to unfold</p>
+<p class="t0">The nature of the Church's claims on me.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I guessed as much.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     I'm born of Christian blood,</p>
+<p class="t0">Have been baptised, and am not Nathan's child!</p>
+<p class="t0">Nathan is not my father! God, O God!</p>
+<p class="t0">He's not my father, Sittah! Now, behold,</p>
+<p class="t0">I'm once more prostrate at your feet.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                     Arise!</p>
+<p class="t0">Recha, arise! behold, my brother comes.</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Saladin</span>, <span class="sc">Sittah</span>, <i>
+and </i><span class="sc">Recha</span>.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What is the matter, Sittah?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 She has swooned.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who is she?
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Don't you know?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 'Tis Nathan's child.</p>
+<p class="t0">What ails her?
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 Look up, Recha! 'tis the Sultan.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA (<i>crawling to Saladin's feet</i>).</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">No, I'll not rise--not rise nor even look</p>
+<p class="t0">Upon the Sultan's countenance, nor wonder</p>
+<p class="t0">At the bright lustre of unchanging truth</p>
+<p class="t0">And goodness on his brow and in his eye,</p>
+<p class="t0">Before----</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">       Rise, rise!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                        Before he promises----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Come, come! I promise, whatsoe'er your prayer.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis only this--to leave my father to me,</p>
+<p class="t0">And me to him. As yet I cannot tell</p>
+<p class="t0">Who seeks to be my father: who it is</p>
+<p class="t0">Can harbour such a wish I'll ne'er inquire.</p>
+<p class="t0">Does blood alone make fathers--blood alone?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who can have been so cruel as to raise</p>
+<p class="t0">This dire suspicion in my Recha's breast?</p>
+<p class="t0">Say, is it proved? beyond all doubt made clear?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">'Tis proved, for Daja had it from my nurse,</p>
+<p class="t0">Whose dying lips entrusted it to her.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Dying! she raved. And even were it true,</p>
+<p class="t0">A father is not made by blood alone;</p>
+<p class="t0">Scarcely the father of a savage beast--</p>
+<p class="t0">Blood only gives the right to earn the name.</p>
+<p class="t0">Then fear no more, but hear me. If there be</p>
+<p class="t0">Two fathers who contend for thee, leave both,</p>
+<p class="t0">And claim a third! O! take me for your father!</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh, do so, Recha, do so!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                         I will be</p>
+<p class="t0">A good, kind father to you. But, in truth</p>
+<p class="t0">A better thought occurs. Why should you need</p>
+<p class="t0">Two fathers? They are mortal, and must die.</p>
+<p class="t0">'Twere better, Recha, to look out betimes</p>
+<p class="t0">For one to start with you on equal terms,</p>
+<p class="t0">And stake his life for thine. You understand?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You make her blush!
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Why that was half my scheme.</p>
+<p class="t0">Blushing becomes plain features, and will make</p>
+<p class="t0">A beauteous cheek more beauteous. My commands</p>
+<p class="t0">Are giv'n to bring your father, Nathan, here.</p>
+<p class="t0">Another comes as well. You'll guess his name?</p>
+<p class="t0">Hither they come! Will you allow it, Sittah?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Brother!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">            And when he comes, maid, you must blush</p>
+<p class="t0">To crimson.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">             Sittah! wherefore should I blush?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You young dissembler, you will else grow pale!</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0">But as thou wilt and canst. (<i>A female slave enters, and
+approaches </i><span class="sc">Sittah</span>.) What, here so soon?</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, let them enter. Brother, here they are!</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>
+
+<span class="sc">Scene</span> VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>the </i><span class="sc">
+Templar</span>, <i>and the others</i>.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Welcome, my dear good friends! Nathan, to you</p>
+<p class="t0">I must first mention, you may send and fetch</p>
+<p class="t0">Your moneys when you will.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                              Sultan----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                                   And now</p>
+<p class="t0">I'm at your service.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                      Sultan----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 For my gold</p>
+<p class="t0">Is now arrived; the caravan is safe:</p>
+<p class="t0">These many years I have not been so rich.</p>
+<p class="t0">Now, tell me what you wish for, to achieve</p>
+<p class="t0">Some splendid speculation? You in trade,</p>
+<p class="t0">Like us, have never too much ready cash.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Why speak about this trifle first? I see</p>
+<p class="t0">An eye in tears (<i>going towards </i><span class="sc">Recha</span>). My Recha, you
+have wept.</p>
+<p class="t0">What have you lost? Are you not still my child?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My father!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">             That's enough! We're understood</p>
+<p class="t0">By one another! But look up--be calm,</p>
+<p class="t0">Be cheerful! If your heart is still your own,</p>
+<p class="t0">And if no threatened loss disturb your breast,</p>
+<p class="t0">Your father is not lost to you!</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 None, none!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">None! Then I'm much deceived. What we don't fear</p>
+<p class="t0">To lose, we ne'er have loved, and ne'er have wished</p>
+<p class="t0">To be possessed of. But 'tis well, 'tis well!</p>
+<p class="t0">Nathan, this changes all! At your command,</p>
+<p class="t0">We come here, Sultan. You have been misled</p>
+<p class="t0">By me, and I will trouble you no more!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Rash, headlong youth! Must every temper yield</p>
+<p class="t0">To yours!--and must we all thus guess your mind?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">But, Sultan, you have heard and seen it all.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Well, truly, it was awkward to be thus</p>
+<p class="t0">Uncertain of your cause!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           I know my fate.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Whoe'er presumes upon a service done,</p>
+<p class="t0">Cancels the benefit. What you have saved</p>
+<p class="t0">Is, therefore, not your own. Or else the thief,</p>
+<p class="t0">Urged by mere avarice through flaming halls,</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">Were like yourself a hero. (<i>Advancing towards </i><span class="sc">Recha </span><i>to
+lead her to the </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>.) Come, sweet maid!</p>
+<p class="t0">Be not reserved towards him. Had he been so,</p>
+<p class="t0">Were he less warm, less proud, he had held back,</p>
+<p class="t0">And had not saved you. Weigh the former deed</p>
+<p class="t0">Against the latter, and you'll make him blush!</p>
+<p class="t0">Do what he should have done! confess your love!</p>
+<p class="t0">Make him your offer! and if he refuse,</p>
+<p class="t0">Or e'er forget how infinitely more</p>
+<p class="t0">You do for him than he has done for you--</p>
+<p class="t0">For what, in fact, have been his services,</p>
+<p class="t0">Save soiling his complexion? a mere sport--</p>
+<p class="t0">Else has he nothing of my Assad in him,</p>
+<p class="t0">But only wears his mask. Come, lovely maid.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Go, dearest, go! this step is not enough</p>
+<p class="t0">For gratitude; it is too little.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                  Hold!</p>
+<p class="t0">Hold, Saladin! hold, Sittah!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                         What would you?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It is the duty of another now</p>
+<p class="t0">To speak.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">                     Who questions that? Beyond all doubt</p>
+<p class="t0">A foster--father has a right to vote</p>
+<p class="t0">First, if you will. You see I know the whole.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Not quite. I speak not, Sultan, of myself.</p>
+<p class="t0">There is another and a different man</p>
+<p class="t0">Whom I must first confer with, Saladin.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And who is he?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 Her brother.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               Recha's brother?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">E'en so.</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">          My brother! Have I then a brother?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>starting from his silent and sullen inattention</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Where is this brother? Not yet here! 'Twas here</p>
+<p class="t0">I was to meet him.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Patience yet awhile.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>bitterly</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He has imposed a father on the girl;</p>
+<p class="t0">He'll find a brother for her now!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                              Indeed,</p>
+<p class="t0">That much was wanting. But this mean rebuke,</p>
+<p class="t0">Christian, had ne'er escaped my Assad's lips.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Forgive him: I forgive him readily.</p>
+<p class="t0">Who knows what in his youth and in his place</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">We might ourselves have thought? (<i>Approaching him in<br>
+a very friendly manner</i>) Suspicion, knight,</p>
+<p class="t0">Follows upon reserve. Had you at first</p>
+<p class="t0">Vouchsafed to me your real name----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                    How! what!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">You are no Stauffen.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                       Tell me who I am.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Conrad of Stauffen, not.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+<p class="t4">                           Then what's my name?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Leo of Filneck.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           How?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                 You start!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t7">                                             With reason.</p>
+<p class="t0">But who says this?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                 I, who can tell you more.</p>
+<p class="t0">Meanwhile, observe, I tax you not with falsehood.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Indeed!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">         It may be both names fit you well.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I think so. (<i>Aside</i>) God inspired him with that thought.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your mother was a Stauffen: and her brother</p>
+<p class="t0">(The uncle to whose care you were consigned,</p>
+<p class="t0">When, by the rigour of the climate chased,</p>
+<p class="t0">Your parents quitted Germany, to seek</p>
+<p class="t0">This land once more) was Conrad. He, perhaps,</p>
+<p class="t0">Adopted you as his own son and heir.</p>
+<p class="t0">Is it long since you travelled hither with him?</p>
+<p class="t0">Does he still live?</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    What shall I answer him?</p>
+<p class="t0">He speaks the truth. Nathan, 'tis so indeed;</p>
+<p class="t0">But he himself is dead. I journeyed here,</p>
+<p class="t0">With the last troops of knights, to reinforce</p>
+<p class="t0">Our order. But inform me how this tale</p>
+<p class="t0">Concerns your Recha's brother.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                Well, your father----</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What! did you know him too?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                                He was my friend.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Your friend! Oh, Nathan, is it possible?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oluf of Filneck did he style himself;</p>
+<p class="t0">But he was not a German.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                          You know that?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He had espoused a German, and he lived</p>
+<p class="t0">For some, time with your mother there.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t6">                                        No more</p>
+<p class="t0">Of this, I beg. But what of Recha's brother?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">It is yourself.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  What, I? am I her brother?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He, my brother?
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  Are they so near akin?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>approaching the</i> Templar)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My brother!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>stepping back</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">             I, your brother?</p>
+
+<h3>RECHA <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>stopping and turning to Nathan</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                               No, in truth,</p>
+<p class="t0">It cannot be. His heart makes no response.</p>
+<p class="t0">O God! we are deceivers.
+
+<H3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to the </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t5">                             Say you so?</p>
+<p class="t0">Is that your thought? All is deceit in you:</p>
+<p class="t0">The voice, the gesture, and the countenance,</p>
+<p class="t0">Nothing of these is yours. How! will you not</p>
+<p class="t0">Acknowledge such a sister? Then begone!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR (<i>approaching him humbly</i>).</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Oh! do not misinterpret my surprise.</p>
+<p class="t0">Sultan, you never saw your Assad's heart</p>
+<p class="t0">At any time like this. Then do not err,</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">Mistake not him and me. (<i>Turning to </i><span class="sc">Nathan</span>.) You give
+me much,</p>
+<p class="t0">Nathan, and also you take much away,</p>
+<p class="t0">And yet you give me more than you withdraw--</p>
+<p class="t0">Ay, infinitely more. My sister, sister! (<i>embraces </i><span class="sc">Recha</span>.)</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Blanda of Filneck.</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  Blanda, ha! not Recha?</p>
+<p class="t0">Your Recha now no more! Have you resigned</p>
+<p class="t0">Your child? Give her her Christian name once more,</p>
+<p class="t0">And for my sake discard her then. Oh, Nathan,</p>
+<p class="t0">Why must she suffer for a fault of mine?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What mean you, oh, my children, both of you?</p>
+<p class="t0">For sure my daughter's brother is my child</p>
+<p class="t0">Whenever he shall wish.</p>
+<p class="center" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">(<i>While they embrace </i><span class="sc">Nathan, Saladin </span><i>uneasily approaches</i>
+<span class="sc">Sittah</span>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                           What say you, sister? Sittah.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I'm deeply moved----</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     And I half tremble when</p>
+<p class="t0">I think of the emotion that must come:</p>
+<p class="t0">Prepare yourself to bear it as you may.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What! How!</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">               Nathan, a word--one word with you.</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">(<i>He joins </i><span class="sc">Nathan</span>, <i>while </i><span class="sc">Sittah </span><i>approaches the
+others to express her sympathy, and </i><span class="sc">Nathan </span><i>and </i><span class="sc">Saladin </span><i>
+converse in a low tone</i>.)</p>
+<p class="t0">Hear, hear me, Nathan. Said you not just now</p>
+<p class="t0">That he----</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t2">          That who?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t4">                   Her father was not born</p>
+<p class="t0">In Germany. You know then whence he came?</p>
+<p class="t0">And what he was?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                  He never told me that.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Was he no Frank, nor from the Western land?</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">He said as much. He spoke the Persian tongue.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">The Persian! need I more? 'Tis he! 'twas he!</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Who?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t1">      Assad, my brother Assad, beyond doubt.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">If you think so, then be assured from this:</p>
+<p class="t0">Look in this book (<i>handing him the breviary</i>).</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                     Oh, 'tis his hand! once more</p>
+<p class="t0">I recognise it.</p>
+
+<h3>NATHAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="t3">                    They know naught of this:</p>
+<p class="t0">It rests with you to tell them all the truth.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>turning over the leaves of the breviary</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">They are my brother's children. Shall I not</p>
+<p class="t0">Acknowledge them and claim them? Or shall I</p>
+<p class="t0">Abandon them to you? (<i>Speaking aloud</i>.) Sittah, they are</p>
+<p class="hang1" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">The children of my brother and of yours. (<i>Rushes to embrace
+them</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>following his example</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">What do I hear? Could it be otherwise?</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to the </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">Proud youth! from this time forward you are bound</p>
+<p class="t0">To love me. (<i>To </i><span class="sc">Recha</span>.) And henceforth, without your leave</p>
+<p class="t0">Or with it, I am what I vowed to be.</p>
+
+<h3>SITTAH.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">And so am I.</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>to the </i><span class="sc">Templar</span>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">My son! my Assad's son!</p>
+
+<h3>TEMPLAR.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">I of your blood! Then those were more than dreams</p>
+<p class="t0">With which they used to lull my infancy--</p>
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">(<i>Falls at </i><span class="sc">Sultan's </span><i>feet</i>.)</p>
+
+<h3>SALADIN <span style="font-weight: 400">(<i>raising him</i>)</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="t0">There, mark the rascal! though he knew something</p>
+<p class="t0">Of what has chanced, he was content that I</p>
+<p class="t0">Should have become his murderer! Beware.</p>
+
+<p class="right" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0">(<i>The curtain falls whilst they repeatedly embrace each
+other in silence</i>.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+</div>
+<h3>END OF VOL. I.</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+<hr class="W50">
+
+<h4>LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET<br>
+AND CHARING CROSS.</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="right">York Street, Covent Garden,</p>
+<p class="right"><i>November</i>, 1877.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>A</h3>
+
+<h1>CLASSIFIED CATALOGUE</h1>
+
+<h4>OF</h4>
+
+<h3>SELECTED WORKS</h3>
+
+<h3>PUBLISHED BY</h3>
+
+<h2>GEORGE BELL AND SONS.</h2>
+
+<hr class="W20">
+
+<table cellpadding="10" style="width:50%; margin-left:25%">
+
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><h3>CONTENTS:</h3></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">Travel and Archĉology</td>
+<td>Poetry and Drama</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">Biography--History</td>
+<td>Law and Reference</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">Philosophy</td>
+<td>Natural History</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">Theology</td>
+<td>Art and Ornament</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">Standard Prose</td>
+<td>Young People</td>
+</tr></table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="W20">
+
+<p class="center"><i>TRAVEL AND ARCHEOLOGY</i>.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ANCIENT ATHENS</b>; its History, Topography, and Remains. By <span class="sc">
+T. H. Dyer, LL.D</span>. Super-royal 8vo. copiously Illustrated. 1<i>l</i>. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Dr. Dyer's volume will be a work of reference to the student
+of Greek History and literature, of the greatest interest and value.'--<i>Spectator</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>DESERT OF THE EXODUS</b>. Journeys on Foot in the Wilderness
+of the Forty Years' Wanderings, undertaken in connexion with the Ordnance Survey
+of Sinai and the Palestine Exploration Fund. By <span class="sc">E. H. Palmer,
+M.A.</span>, Lord Almoner's Professor of Arabic, and Fellow of St. John's
+College, Cambridge. With Maps and numerous Illustrations. 2 vols. 8vo. 1<i>l</i>.
+8<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A work which the biblical student will highly prize for the
+strong light which it sheds upon a most important portion of Scripture history,
+but which cannot be read without interest and delight by every one who is
+capable of taking an intelligent interest in manners and customs widely removed
+from our own.'--<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HISTORY OF EGYPT</b>. From the Earliest Times till its
+Conquest by the Arabs, <span class="sc">A.D</span>. 640. By <span class="sc">S.
+Sharpe</span>. With numerous Illustrations, Maps, &amp;c. 6th Edition. 2 vols. post
+8vo. 10<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>NINEVEH AND ITS PALACES</b>. By <span class="sc">J. Bonomi,
+F.R.S.L</span>. New Edition, revised and considerably enlarged. With upwards of
+300 Engravings. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HISTORY OF POMPEII</b>: its Buildings and Antiquities. An
+Account of the City, with full description of the Remains and Recent
+Excavations, and also an Itinerary for Visitors. By <span class="sc">T. H. Dyer,
+LL.D</span>. With nearly 300 Wood Engravings, a large Map, and a Plan of the
+Forum. 4th Edition, bringing the work down to 1874. Post 8vo. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ROME AND THE CAMPAGNA</b>. A Historical and Topographical
+Description of the Site, Buildings and Neighbourhood of ancient Rome. By the
+Rev. <span class="sc">R. Burn</span>, late Fellow and Tutor of Trinity College,
+Cambridge. With 85 Engravings by Jewitt, and numerous Maps and Plans. An
+Appendix and additional Plan illustrating recent Excavations have lately been
+added. Demy 4to. 3<i>l</i>. 3<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>BIOGRAPHY</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BARBAULD (MRS.)</b> A Memoir of, including Letters and
+Notices of her Family and Friends. By her great-niece, <span class="sc">Anna
+Letitia Le Breton</span>. With Portrait. Demy 12mo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BOSWELL'S JOHNSON</b>, and <span class="sc">JOHNSONIANA</span>.
+Including his Tour to the Hebrides, Tour in Wales, &amp;c. Edited, with large
+Additions and Notes, by the Rt. Hon. <span class="sc">J. W. Croker</span>. The
+second and most complete Copyright Edition, with upwards of 40 Engravings on
+Steel. Post 8vo. 5 vols. 20<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BRYAN</b>. A Biographical and Critical Dictionary of
+Painters and Engravers. With a List of Ciphers, Monograms, and Marks. By <span class="sc">
+M. Bryan</span>. A New Edition by <span class="sc">G. Stanley</span>. Imp. 8vo.
+2<i>l</i>. 2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">----<span class="sc">A SUPPLEMENT</span> of <span class="sc">
+RECENT</span> and <span class="sc">LIVING PAINTERS</span>. By <span class="sc">
+H. Ottley</span>. Imp. 8vo. 12<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COLERIDGE (S. T.)</b> Biographia Literaria, and two Lay
+Sermons. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COOPER (THOMPSON)</b>. A New Biographical Dictionary. By <span class="sc">
+T. Cooper, F.S.A</span>. 1 vol. 8vo. 12<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FOSTER (JOHN)</b>, The Life of. 2 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GOETHE</b>, Autobiography of (Wahrheit und Dichtung aus
+Meinem Leben). 2 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GOETHE</b>. Conversations with Eckermann and Soret. Post
+8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GOETHE</b>. Correspondence with Schiller. 2 vols. post 8vo.
+7<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GOLDSMITH (O.)</b> The Life of, together with The
+Sketch-Book. By
+<span class="sc">Washington Irving</span>. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. The
+Life alone, in paper wrapper, 1<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>IRVING (W.)</b> Life and Letters. By his Nephew, <span class="sc">
+P. E. Irving</span>. In 2 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LUTHER</b>, Michelet's Life of. Translated by <span class="sc">
+W. Hazlitt</span>. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MAHOMET </b><span class="sc">AND HIS SUCCESSORS</span>. By <span class="sc">
+Washington Irving</span>. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MICHAEL ANGELO AND RAPHAEL</b>, their Lives and Works. By <span class="sc">
+Duppa</span> and
+<span class="sc">Quatremere de Quincy</span>. With 13 Engravings on Steel. Post
+8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>NELSON</b>, The Life of. By <span class="sc">R. Southey</span>.
+With additional Notes and numerous Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>RICHTER (J. P. F.)</b> Autobiography and short Memoir, with
+the <i>Levana</i>. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>WASHINGTON</b>, The Life of. By <span class="sc">W. Irving</span>.
+With Portrait. In 4 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>WELLINGTON</b>, The Life of. By <span class="sc">An Old
+Soldier</span>, from the materials of Maxwell. Eighteen Engravings. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>WESLEY (JOHN)</b>, The Life of. By <span class="sc">R.
+Southey</span>. New and Complete Edition. With Portrait. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By the late Sir A. Helps, K.C.B.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BRASSEY (T.)</b> The Life and Labours of the late. With
+Illustrations. 5th Edition, 10<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HERNANDO CORTES</b>, The Life of, and The <span class="sc">
+CONQUEST OF MEXICO</span>. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 15<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COLUMBUS</b>, The Life of. The Discoverer of America. 5th
+Edition. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PIZARRO</b>, The Life of. With Some Account of his
+Associates in the Conquest of Peru. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LAS CASAS</b>, The Life of, the Apostle of the Indies. 3rd
+Edition. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>HISTORY</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MODERN EUROPE</b>, from the Fall of Constantinople to the
+Founding of the German Empire, A.D. 1453-1871. By <span class="sc">Thomas Henry
+Dyer, LL.D</span>. 2nd Edition, revised throughout and continued by the Author.
+In 5 vols. demy 8vo. 2<i>l</i>. 12<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>KINGS OF ROME</b>, History of the. By <span class="sc">T.
+Dyer, LL.D</span>. With a Prefatory Dissertation on the Sources and Evidences of
+Early Roman History. Demy 8vo. 16<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It will mark or help to mark an era in the history of the
+subject to which it is devoted. It is one of the most decided as well as one of
+the ablest results of the reaction which is now in progress against the
+influence of Niebuhr.'--<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>DECLINE OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC</b>. From the Destruction of
+Carthage to the Consulship of Julius Cĉsar. By <span class="sc">George Long, M.A</span>.
+5 vols. 8vo. 14<i>s</i>. per vol.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If any one can guide us through the almost inextricable mazes
+of this labyrinth, it is Mr. Long. As a chronicler, he possesses all the
+requisite knowledge, and what is nearly, if not quite as important, the
+necessary caution. He never attempts to explain that which is hopelessly corrupt
+or obscure: he does not confound twilight with daylight; he warns the reader
+repeatedly that he is standing on shaking ground; he has no framework of theory
+into which he presses his facts.'--<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LIFE OF THE EMPEROR KARL THE GREAT</b>. Translated from the
+contemporary
+<span class="sc">History Of Eginhard</span>, with Notes and Chapters on
+Eginhard--the Franks--Karl--and the Breaking-up of the Empire. With a Map. By <span class="sc">
+William Glaister, M.A., B.C.L.</span>, University College, Oxford. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HISTORY OF ENGLAND</b>, during the Early and Middle Ages. By <span class="sc">
+C. H. Pearson, M.A.</span>, Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. 2nd Edition, much
+enlarged. Vol. I. 8vo. 16<i>s</i>. Vol. II. 8vo. 14<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HISTORICAL MAPS OF ENGLAND</b> during the first Thirteen
+Centuries. With Explanatory Essays and Indices. By <span class="sc">C. H.
+Pearson, M.A</span>. Imp. folio. 2nd Edition. 31<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE BARONS' WAR</b>. Including the Battles of Lewes and
+Evesham. By <span class="sc">W. H. Blaauw, M.A</span>. 2nd Edition, with
+Additions and Corrections by <span class="sc">C. H. Pearson</span>, M.A. Demy
+8vo. 10<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THIRTY YEARS' PEACE</b>, 1815-45, A History of the. By <span class="sc">
+Harriet Martineau</span>. 4 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>QUEENS OF ENGLAND</b>, from the Norman Conquest to the Reign
+of Queen Anne. By <span class="sc">Agnes Strickland</span>. Library Edition,
+with Portraits, Autographs, and Vignettes, 8 vols. post 8vo. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.
+each. Cheap Edition, 6 vols. 5<i>s</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS</b>, The Life of. By <span class="sc">
+A. Strickland</span>. 2 vols. post 8vo. cloth gilt, 11<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>PHILOSOPHY</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ELEMENTS OF THOUGHT</b>. By <span class="sc">Isaac Taylor</span>,
+Post 8vo. 4<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HOME EDUCATION</b>. By the same Author. Fcap. 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ELEMENTS OF MORALITY</b>, including Polity. By <span class="sc">
+W. Whewell, D.D</span>. 4th Edition. In 1 vol. 8vo. 15<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MORAL PHILOSOPHY</b>. Lectures on the History of, in
+England. By <span class="sc">W. Whewell, D.D</span>. Crown 8vo. 8<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MANUAL OF HUMAN CULTURE</b>. By <span class="sc">M. A.
+Garvey, LL.B</span>. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LOCKE</b>. <span class="sc">PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS</span>,
+containing an Essay on the Human Understanding, &amp;c., with Notes and Index by <span class="sc">
+J. A. St. John</span>. Portrait. In 2 vols. Post 8vo. 7<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT </b><span class="sc">OF EUROPE</span>.
+A History of the. By <span class="sc">J. W. Draper, M.D., LL.D</span>. 2 vols.
+Post 8vo. 10<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COMTE'S </b><span class="sc">PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES</span>.
+Edited by <span class="sc">G. H. Lewes</span>. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>KANT</b>. <span class="sc">CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON</span>.
+Translated by <span class="sc">J. M. D. Meiklejohn</span>. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HEGEL</b>. <span class="sc">LECTURES ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF
+HISTORY</span>. Translated by <span class="sc">J. Sibree, M.A</span>. Post 8vo.
+5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>THEOLOGY</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ARTICLES OF RELIGION</b>, History of the. To which is added
+a Series of Documents from A.D. 1536 to A.D. 1615. Together with Illustrations
+from contemporary sources. By the late <span class="sc">C. Hardwick, M.A.</span>,
+Archdeacon of Ely. 3rd Edition. Revised by the Rev. <span class="sc">F. Procter,
+M.A.</span>, Author of 'A History of the Book of Common Prayer,' with additional
+matter. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE CREEDS</b>, History of. By <span class="sc">J. Rawson
+Lumby, M.A.</span>, Tyrwhitt's Hebrew Scholar, Crosse Divinity Scholar. Crown
+8vo. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PEARSON (BP.) ON THE CREED</b>. Carefully printed from an
+Early Edition. With Analysis and Index. Edited by <span class="sc">E. Walford,
+M.A</span>. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COMMON PRAYER</b>. Historical and Explanatory Treatise on
+the Book of. By <span class="sc">W. G. Humphry, B.D.</span>, Prebendary of St.
+Paul's and Vicar of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. 5th Edition, revised and enlarged.
+Fcap. 8vo. 4<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COMMON PRAYER</b>, Rational Illustrations of the Book of. By <span class="sc">
+C. Wheatly</span>, M.A. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>AN INTRODUCTION </b><span class="sc">TO THE OLD TESTAMENT</span>.
+By <span class="sc">F. Bleek</span>. Translated from the German by <span class="sc">
+G. H. Venables</span>, under the supervision of the Rev. <span class="sc">E.
+Venables</span>. In 2 vols. 10<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COMPANION </b><span class="sc">TO THE GREEK TESTAMENT</span>.
+For the use of Theological Students and the Upper Forms in Schools. By <span class="sc">
+A. C. Barrett, M.A.</span>, Caius College. 3rd Edition, enlarged and improved.
+Fcap. 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By F. H. Scrivener, D.C.L., Prebendary of Exeter</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>NOVUM TESTAMENTUM GRĈCUM</b>, <span class="sc">TEXTUS
+STEPHANICI</span>, 1550. Accedunt variĉ lectiones editionum Bezĉ, Elzeviri,
+Lachmanni, Tischendorfii, et Tregellesii. 16mo. 4<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. With wide
+Margin for Notes, 4to. 12<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A PLAIN INTRODUCTION </b><span class="sc">TO THE CRITICISM
+OF THE NEW TESTAMENT</span>. With 40 Facsimiles from Ancient Manuscripts.
+Containing also an Account of the Egyptian Versions by Canon <span class="sc">
+Lightfoot, D.D</span>. For the Use of Biblical Students. New Edition. Demy 8vo.
+16<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SIX LECTURES </b><span class="sc">ON THE TEXT OF THE NEW
+TESTAMENT</span> and the ancient Manuscripts which contain it. Chiefly addressed
+to those who do not read Greek. With facsimiles from MSS. &amp;c. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BOOK OF PSALMS</b>; a New Translation, with Introductions
+and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By the Rev. <span class="sc">J. J. Stewart
+Perowne, D.D.</span>, Canon Residentiary of Llandaff, and Hulsean Professor of
+Divinity, Cambridge. 8vo. Vol. I. 3rd Edition, 18<i>s</i>. Vol. II. 3rd Edition,
+16<i>s</i>. An abridged Edition for Schools and Private Students. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A COMMENTARY </b><span class="sc">ON THE GOSPELS AND
+EPISTLES</span> for the Sundays and other Holy Days of the Christian Year. By
+the Rev. <span class="sc">W. Denton, A.M.</span>, Worcester College, Oxford, and
+Incumbent of St. Bartholomew's, Cripplegate. In 5 vols. 18<i>s</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A COMMENTARY </b><span class="sc">ON THE ACTS OF THE
+APOSTLES</span>. In 2 vols. Vol. I. 18<i>s</i>. Vol. II. 14<i>s</i>. These
+Commentaries originated in Notes collected by the compiler to aid in the
+composition of expository sermons. They are derived from all available sources,
+and especially from the wide but little-known field of theological comment found
+in the 'Schoolmen' of the Middle Ages. They are recommended to the notice of
+young Clergymen, who frequently, while inexperienced, are called upon to preach
+to educated and intelligent congregations.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BIBLE-ENGLISH</b>. Chapters on Words and Phrases in the
+Authorized Version of the Holy Scriptures and the Book of Common Prayer, no
+longer in common use; illustrated from contemporaneous writers. By the Rev. <span class="sc">
+T. Lewis O. Davies, M.A.</span>, Vicar of St. Mary Extra, Southampton. Small
+crown 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Everyone who takes an interest in the history of the English
+Language, and indeed everyone who is not absolutely inattentive to the words
+spoken around him, may turn to Mr. Davies's little book with the certainty of
+finding both useful information and agreeable entertainment in its pages.'--<i>Pall
+Mall Gazette</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST</b>; in its Historical Connexion and
+Development. By
+<span class="sc">A. Neander</span>. From the 4th German Edition. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LIFE AND EPISTLES OF ST. PAUL</b>. By <span class="sc">T.
+Lewin</span>, Esq., M.A., F.S.A., Trinity College, Oxford, Barrister-at-law,
+Author of 'Fasti Sacri,' 'Siege of Jerusalem,' 'Cĉsar's Invasion,' 'Treatise on
+Trusts,' &amp;c. With upwards of 350 Illustrations finely engraved on Wood, Maps,
+Plans, &amp;c. In 2 vols. 3rd Edition, revised. Demy 4to. 2<i>l</i>. 2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Nothing but a careful inspection of the work itself can give
+the reader an adequate idea of the thoroughness with which Mr. Lewin has carried
+out his plan--a plan which may be described as the giving of all information
+possibly attainable about every person or place connected directly or even
+indirectly with St. Paul.'--<i>Spectator</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FASTI SACRI</b>; or, a Key to the Chronology of the New
+Testament. By the same Author. 4to. 21<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ANALOGY OF RELIGION</b>, Natural and Revealed, and Sermons
+with Notes. By Bp. <span class="sc">Butler</span>. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HOLY LIVING AND DYING</b>. By <span class="sc">Bp. Jeremy
+Taylor</span>. With portrait. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THOMAS A KEMPIS</b>. On the Imitation of Christ. A New
+Translation. By the Rt. Rev. <span class="sc">H. Goodwin</span>, Bishop of
+Carlisle. 3rd Edition. With fine Steel Engraving after Guido, 5<i>s</i>.;
+without the Engraving, 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. Cheap Edition, 1<i>s</i>. cloth; 6<i>d</i>.
+sewed.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>For Confirmation Candidates</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE CHURCH TEACHER'S MANUAL OF </b><span class="sc">
+CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTION</span>. Being the Church Catechism expanded and explained
+in Question and Answer, for the use of Clergymen, Parents, and Teachers. By the
+Rev. <span class="sc">M. F. Sadler</span>. 16th Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 2<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is impossible to overrate the service to religious
+instruction achieved by this compact and yet pregnant volume.... We owe many
+boons to Mr. Sadler, whose sermons and theological lectures and treatises have
+wrought much good in matters of faith. This Catechetical Manual is second to
+none of such.'--<i>English Churchman</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CATECHETICAL HINTS AND HELPS</b>. A Manual for Parents and
+Teachers on giving Instruction in the Catechism of the Church of England. 3rd
+Edition, enlarged. Fcap. 8vo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Perhaps the most thoroughly <i>practical</i> little book on
+its subject we have ever seen. Its explanations, its paraphrases, its questions,
+and the mass of information contained in its appendices, are not merely
+invaluable in themselves, but they are the information actually wanted for the
+purpose of the teaching contemplated. We do not wonder at its being in its third
+edition.'--<i>Literary Churchman</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE WINTON CHURCH CATECHIST</b>. Questions and Answers on
+the Teaching of the Church Catechism. 32mo. cloth, 3<i>s</i>. Also in Four
+Parts, 6<i>d</i>. or 9<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LIFE AFTER CONFIRMATION</b>. By <span class="sc">J. S. Blunt</span>.
+18mo. 1<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CONFIRMATION DAY</b>. Being a Book of Instruction for Young
+Persons how they ought to spend that solemn day. By the Rt. Rev. <span class="sc">
+H. Goodwin, D.D.</span>, Bp. of Carlisle. 8th Thousand. 2<i>d</i>., or 25 for 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By the Rev. M. F. Sadler, Rector of Honiton</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE ONE OFFERING</b>; a Treatise on the Sacrificial Nature
+of the Eucharist. 3rd Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A treatise of singular clearness and force, which gives us
+what we did not really possess till it appeared.'--<i>Church Times</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is by far the most useful, trustworthy, and accurate book
+we have seen upon the subject.'--<i>Literary Churchman</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The subject of the Holy Eucharist is ably and fully treated,
+and in a candid spirit, by Mr. Sadler in these pages.'--<i>English Churchman</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>JUSTIFICATION OF LIFE</b>: its Nature, Antecedents, and
+Consequences. Fcap. 8vo. <span style="letter-spacing: 3em">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span>[<i>In
+the press</i>.]</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE LOST GOSPEL AND ITS CONTENTS</b>; or, the Author of
+'Supernatural Religion' Refuted by Himself. By Rev. <span class="sc">M. F.
+Sadler</span>, Rector of Honiton. Demy 8vo. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE SACRAMENT OF RESPONSIBILITY</b>: or, Testimony of the
+Scripture to the Teaching of the Church on Holy Baptism. Fcap. 8vo. cloth, 2<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>. Also, Cheap Edition, 25th Thousand, fcap. 8vo. sewed, 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'An exceedingly valuable repertory of arguments on the
+questions it refers to.'--<i>English Churchman</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CHURCH DOCTRINE--BIBLE TRUTH</b>. Fcap. 8vo. 18th Thousand,
+3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Some writers have the gift of speaking the right word at the
+right time, and the Rev. M. F. Sadler is pre-eminently one of them. &quot;Church
+Doctrine--Bible Truth,&quot; is full of wholesome truths fit for these times.... He
+has power of putting his meaning in a forcible and intelligible way, which will,
+we trust, enable his valuable work to effect that which it is well calculated to
+effect, viz. to meet with an appropriate and crushing reply one of the most
+dangerous misbeliefs of the time.'--<i>Guardian</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE SECOND ADAM AND THE NEW BIRTH</b>; or, the Doctrine of
+Baptism as contained in Holy Scripture. Fcap. 8vo. 7th Edition, price 4<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The most striking peculiarity of this useful little work is
+that its author argues almost exclusively from the Bible. We commend it most
+earnestly to clergy and laity, as containing in a small compass, and at a
+trifling cost, a body of sound and Scriptural doctrine respecting the New Birth,
+which cannot be too widely circulated.'--<i>Guardian</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PARISH SERMONS</b>. Trinity to Advent. Fcap. 8vo. 2nd
+Edition, 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PLAIN SPEAKING ON DEEP TRUTHS</b>. Sermons preached at St.
+Paul's Church, Bedford. Fcap. 8vo. 4th Edition, 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ABUNDANT LIFE</b>, and other Sermons. Fcap. 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE COMMUNICANT'S MANUAL</b>; being a Book of
+Self-examination, Prayer, Praise, and Thanksgiving. 8th Thousand. Royal 32mo.
+roan, gilt edges, price 2<i>s</i>.; cloth, 1<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. Cheap Edition,
+for distribution, 25th Thousand, 8<i>d</i>. A larger Edition, on fine paper, and
+Rubrics. Fcap. 8vo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.; morocco, 7<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SCRIPTURE TRUTHS</b>. A Series of Ten Plain, Popular Tracts
+upon subjects now universally under discussion, 9<i>d</i>. per set, sold
+separately. No. 1. Reasons for Infant Baptism. 2. On Eucharistic Worship. 3. On
+the Priesthood of the Christian Ministry. 4. On Confirmation. 5. Reasons for
+receiving the Holy Communion. 6. On the Doctrine of the Holy Communion. 7. On
+Baptism and Conversion. 8. Some Objections to receiving the Holy Communion
+considered. 9. On the First Truths of the Christian Faith. 10. On Faith and
+Justification.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>STANDARD PROSE WORKS</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ADDISON</b>. Works. With Notes by Bishop <span class="sc">
+Hurd</span>, and numerous unpublished Letters. With Portrait and eight steel
+Engravings. 6 vols. cloth, gilt, post 8vo. 4<i>s</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BACON'S (LORD) </b><span class="sc">ESSAYS AND HISTORICAL
+WORKS</span>, with Introduction and Notes by <span class="sc">J. Devey, M.A</span>.
+Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>BURKE</b>. Works. In 8 vols. post 8vo. cloth, gilt, 4<i>s</i>.
+each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COLERIDGE (S. T.) </b><span class="sc">THE FRIEND</span>. A
+Series of Essays on Morals, Politics, and Religion. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>COLERIDGE (S. T.) </b><span class="sc">BIOGRAPHIA LITERARIA</span>,
+and Two Lay Sermons. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CRAIK (G. L.) </b><span class="sc">THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE
+UNDER DIFFICULTIES</span>. Illustrated. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>EMERSON (R. W.) WORKS</b>, comprising Essays, Lectures,
+Poems, and Orations. In 2 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FIELDING (H.) </b><span class="sc">TOM JONES</span>, the
+History of a Foundling. <span class="sc">Roscoe's</span> Edition revised. With
+Illustrations by <span class="sc">G. Cruikshank</span>. In 2 vols. 7<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FIELDING (H.) </b><span class="sc">JOSEPH ANDREWS</span>,
+and <span class="sc">Roscoe's</span> Biography of the Author revised. With
+Illustrations by <span class="sc">G. Cruikshank</span>. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FIELDING (H.) </b><span class="sc">AMELIA</span>. <span class="sc">
+Roscoe's</span> Edition revised. With Cruikshank's Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HAZLITT'S (W.) </b><span class="sc">LECTURES</span>, &amp;c. 6
+vols. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>IRVING (W.) WORKS</b>. In 11 vols. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.
+each. [<i>See also p</i>. 3.]</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LAMB (C.) </b><span class="sc">ESSAYS OF ELIA, AND ELIANA</span>.
+New Edition, post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LUTHER (M.) </b><span class="sc">TABLE-TALK</span>.
+Translated by <span class="sc">W. Hazlitt</span>. With Life and Portrait. Post
+8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MANZONI (ALESSANDRO)</b>. <span class="sc">THE BETROTHED</span>
+(I promessi Sposi). The only complete English translation. With numerous
+Woodcuts, 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PEPYS'S DIARY.</b> With Life and Notes by Richard Lord <span class="sc">
+Braybrooke</span>. 4 vols. post 8vo. cloth, gilt, 5<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. per vol.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PROUT (FATHER)</b>. <span class="sc">RELIQUES</span>. New
+Edition, revised and largely augmented. Twenty-one spirited Etchings by <span class="sc">
+Maclise</span>. 1 vol. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>RICHTER (J. P. F.) </b><span class="sc">AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND
+LEVANA</span>. Translated. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>RICHTER (J. P. F.) </b><span class="sc">FLOWER, FRUIT, AND
+THORN PIECES</span>. A Novel. Translated by <span class="sc">Alex. Ewing</span>.
+3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>WALTON</b>. <span class="sc">THE COMPLETE ANGLER</span>.
+Edited by <span class="sc">E. Jesse</span>. With an account of Fishing Stations,
+&amp;c., and 203 Engravings. 5<i>s</i>.; or with 26 additional page Illustrations on
+Steel, 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>POETRY AND DRAMA</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SHAKESPEARE.</b> Edited by <span class="sc">S. W. Singer</span>.
+With a Life by <span class="sc">W. W. Lloyd</span>. Uniform with the Aldine
+Edition of the Poets. 10 vols. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each. In half morocco, 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">CRITICAL ESSAYS ON THE PLAYS. By <span class="sc">W. W. Lloyd</span>.
+Uniform with the above, 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.; in half morocco, 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SHAKESPEARE'S</b> PLAYS AND POEMS. With Notes and Life by <span class="sc">
+Charles Knight</span>, and 40 Engravings on Wood by <span class="sc">Harvey</span>.
+Royal 8vo. cloth, 10<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- (<span class="sc">Valpy's</span> Cabinet Pictorial
+Edition), with Glossarial Notes, Digests, &amp;c., and 171 Outline Plates. 15 vols.
+Fcap. 8vo. 2<i>l</i>. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- (Pocket Volume Edition). Comprising all his Plays and
+Poems. Edited from the First Folio Edition by <span class="sc">T. Keightley</span>.
+13 vols. royal 32mo. in a cloth box, price 21<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SHAKESPEARE</b>. <span class="sc">DRAMATIC ART OF</span>
+The History and Character of the Plays. By Dr. <span class="sc">Ulrici</span>.
+Translated by <span class="sc">L. D. Schmitz</span>. 2 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CHAUCER.</b> <span class="sc">Robert Bell's</span> Edition.
+Revised. With Preliminary Essay by the
+<span class="sc">Rev. W. W. Skeat</span>. M.A. 4 vols. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.
+each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>EARLY BALLADS AND SONGS OF THE </b><span class="sc">
+PEASANTRY OF ENGLAND</span>. Edited by <span class="sc">Robert Bell</span>. Post
+8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GREENE</b>, <span class="sc">MARLOWE</span>, and <span class="sc">
+BEN JONSON</span>. Poems of. Edited by <span class="sc">Robert Bell</span>. 1
+vol. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PERCY'S RELIQUES</b> OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY. Reprinted
+from the Original Edition, and Edited by <span class="sc">J. V. Prichard</span>.
+In 2 vols. 7<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MILTON'S (J.)</b> POETICAL WORKS. With Memoir and Notes, and
+120 Engravings. In 2 vols. post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GOLDSMITH.</b> POEMS. Illustrated. 16mo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SHERIDAN'S</b> DRAMATIC WORKS. With Short Life, by G. C. S.
+and Portrait. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ALFIERI.</b> The Tragedies of. In English Verse. Edited by <span class="sc">
+E. A. Bowring</span>, C. B. 2 vols. post 8vo. 7<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CAMOENS' LUSIAD. </b><span class="sc">Mickle's</span>
+Translation revised. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>DANTE.</b> THE DIVINE COMEDY. Translated by the Rev. <span class="sc">
+H. F. Cary</span>. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This and the following one are the only editions containing
+the author's last corrections and emendations.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- The Popular Edition, neatly Printed in Double Columns.
+Royal 8vo. sewed, 1<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.; cloth, 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- Translated into English Verse by <span class="sc">J. C.
+Wright, M.A</span>. With Portrait and 34 Engravings on Steel, after Flaxman. 5th
+Edition, post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PETRARCH.</b> SONNETS, TRIUMPHS, AND OTHER POEMS. Translated
+into English Verse. With Campbell's Life of the Poet. Illustrated. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MOLIÈRE.</b> DRAMATIC WORKS. In prose. Translated by <span class="sc">
+C. H. Wall</span>. In 3 vols. post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each. Also
+fine-paper Edition, large post 8vo. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>Translated by E. A. Bowring, C.B.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>POEMS OF GOETHE.</b> 2nd Edition (including Hermann and
+Dorothea). Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>POEMS OF SCHILLER.</b> 2nd Edition. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>POEMS OF HEINE.</b> 2nd Edition. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By Professor Conington, M.A.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>HORACE'S</b> ODES AND CARMEN SĈCULARE. Translated into
+English Verse. 7th Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- SATIRES AND EPISTLES. Translated into English Verse. 3rd
+Edition. 6<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By C. S. Calverley</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>VERSES AND TRANSLATIONS.</b> 5th Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FLY LEAVES.</b> 6th Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>TRANSLATIONS</b> INTO ENGLISH AND LATIN. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THEOCRITUS</b>, into English Verse. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By Adelaide Anne Procter</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LEGENDS AND LYRICS.</b> Illustrated Edition, with Portrait,
+and Introduction by <span class="sc">Charles Dickens</span>. 4th Thous. 21<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- First Series. Introduction by Charles Dickens, and
+Portrait of the Author. 29th Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- Second Series. 23rd Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<hr class="W10">
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ENGLISH SONGS AND LYRICS.</b> By <span class="sc">Barry
+Cornwall</span>. New Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SONGS, BALLADS, AND STORIES.</b> By <span class="sc">W.
+Allingham</span>. Crown 8vo. gilt edges, 10<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.
+
+<br>
+<hr class="W20">
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><b>ALDINE SERIES OF THE BRITISH POETS.</b></p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Editors of the various authors in this Series have in all
+cases endeavoured to make the collections of Poems as complete as possible, and
+in many instances copyright Poems are to be found in these editions which are
+not in any other. Each volume is carefully edited, with Notes where necessary
+for the elucidation of the Text, and a Memoir. A Portrait also is added in all
+cases where an authentic one is accessible. The volumes are printed on toned
+paper in fcap. 8vo. size, and neatly bound in cloth gilt, price 5<i>s</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><sup>*</sup><sub>*</sub><sup>*</sup>  A Cheap Reprint of this
+Series, neat cloth, 1<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. per volume.</p>
+
+<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%">
+<colgroup><col style="width:50%; vertical-align:top">
+<col style="width:50%; vertical-align:top"></colgroup>
+<tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">AKENSIDE.</td>
+<td>KIRKE WHITE.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">BEATTIE.</td>
+<td>MILTON. 3 vols.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">BURNS. 3 vols.</td>
+<td>PARNELL.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">BUTLER. 2 vols.</td>
+<td>POPE. 3 vols.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">CHAUCER. 6 vols.</td>
+<td>PRIOR. 2 vols.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">CHURCHILL. 2 vols.</td>
+<td>SHAKESPEARE'S POEMS.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">COLLINS.</td>
+<td>SPENSER. 5 vols.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">COWPER, including his Translations. 3
+vols.</td>
+<td>SURREY.<br>
+SWIFT. 3 vols.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">DRYDEN. 5 vols.</td>
+<td>THOMSON. 2 vols.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">FALCONER.</td>
+<td>WYATT.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">GOLDSMITH.</td>
+<td>YOUNG. 2 vols.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">GRAY.</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2"><p class="center">The following volumes of a New Series have
+been issued, 5<i>s</i>. each.</p></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">CHATTERTON. 2 vols.<br>CAMPBELL.</td>
+<td>THE COURTLY POETS, from RALEIGHT to WOTTON.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">WILLIAM BLAKE.</td>
+<td>GEORGE HERBERT.</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td style="border-right: solid black 2px">ROGERS.</td>
+<td>KEATS.</td>
+</tr></table>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>REFERENCE.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang1">STUDENTS' GUIDE to the University of Cambridge. 3rd Edition,
+revised and corrected. Fcap. 8vo. 6<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">KING'S INTEREST TABLES. 25th Edition, 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">KENT'S COMMENTARY on International Law. New Edition, revised,
+with additional Notes and Cases, by J. T. Abdy, LL.D. Crown 8vo. [<i>Immediately</i>.]</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">THE EPIGRAMMATISTS. Selections from the Epigrammatic Literature
+of Ancient, Mediĉval, and Modern Times. With Notes, &amp;c. by Rev. H. P. Dodd, M.A.
+2nd Edition, enlarged. Post 8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">LATIN AND GREEK QUOTATIONS. A Dictionary of. Including
+Proverbs, Maxims, Mottoes, Law Terms, Phrases, &amp;c. By H. T. Riley. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.
+With Index Verboram, 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">BRYAN'S DICTIONARY OF PAINTERS. <i>See p</i>. 2.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">COOPER'S BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. <i>See p</i>. 2.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">DR. RICHARDSON'S DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Combining
+Explanation with Etymology, and copiously illustrated by Quotations from the
+best authorities. New edition, with a Supplement. In 2 vols. 4to. 4<i>l</i>. 14<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.; half-bound in russia, 5<i>l</i>. 15<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.; russia, 6<i>l</i>.
+12<i>s</i>. The Supplement separately. 4to. 12<i>s</i>. An 8vo edition, without
+the Quotations, 15<i>s</i>.; half russia, 20<i>s</i>.; russia, 24<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The following are the only authorised and unabridged Editions
+of WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY containing the valuable Etymological Notes and
+Derivations of Dr. Mahn, of Berlin, who devoted five years to the Revision of
+the Work.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">WEBSTER'S GUINEA DICTIONARY of the English Language, including
+scientific, biblical, and Scottish terms and phrases, with their pronunciations,
+alternative spellings, derivations, and meanings. In 1 vol. 4to. with nearly
+1600 pages and 3000 Illustrations. Strongly bound in cloth, 21<i>s</i>.; half
+calf, 30<i>s</i>.; calf or half russia, 1<i>l</i>. 11<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.;
+russia, 2<i>l</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">WEBSTER'S COMPLETE DICTIONARY, containing all that appears in
+the above, and also a valuable Appendix, and 70 pages of Illustrations grouped
+and classified, rendering it a complete Literary and Scientific Reference Book.
+1 vol. 4to. strongly bound in cloth, 1<i>l</i>. 11<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.; half
+calf, 2<i>l</i>.; calf or half russia, 2<i>l</i>. 2<i>s</i>.; russia, 2<i>l</i>.
+10<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Certainly the best practical English Dictionary extant.'--<i>Quarterly
+Review</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>NATURAL HISTORY</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">THE LIBRARY OF NATURAL HISTORY. Containing Morris' British
+Birds--Nests--Eggs--British Butterflies--British Moths--Bree's Birds of
+Europe--Lowe's Works on British and Exotic Ferns, Grasses and Beautiful Leaved
+Plants--Hibberd's Plants--Maund's Botanic Garden--Tripp's British
+Mosses--Gatty's Seaweeds--Wooster's Alpine Plants, and Couch's Fishes--making in
+all 43 Volumes, in super-royal 8vo. containing upwards of 2550 full--page
+Plates, carefully coloured.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Complete Lists sent post free on application</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">SOWERBY'S BOTANY. Containing a Description and Life--size
+Drawing of every British Plant. Edited and brought up to the present standard of
+scientific knowledge, by T. Boswell (formerly Syme), LL.D., F.L.S., &amp;c. With
+Popular Descriptions of the Uses, History, and Traditions of each Plant, by Mrs.
+Lankester, Author of 'Wild Flowers worth Notice,' 'The British Ferns,' &amp;c. The
+Figures by J. C. Sowerby, F.L.S., J. De C. Sowerby, F.L.S., and J. W. Salter,
+A.L.S., F.G.S., and John Edward Sowerby. Third Edition, entirely revised, with
+descriptions of all the species by the Editor. In 11 vols. 22<i>l</i>. 8<i>s</i>.
+cloth; 24<i>l</i>. 12<i>s</i>. half morocco; and 28<i>l</i>. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.
+whole morocco. Volumes sold separately.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">SOWERBY'S FERNS AND FERN-ALLIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. With 80
+Plates by J. E. Sowerby. The Descriptions, Synonyms, &amp;c, by C. Johnson. Royal
+paper, Coloured Plates, 25<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">COTTAGE GARDENER'S DICTIONARY. With a Supplement, containing
+all the new plants and varieties down to the year 1869. Edited by G. W. Johnson.
+Post 8vo. cloth, 6<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">BOTANIST'S POCKET-BOOK. By W. R. Hayward. Containing the
+Botanical name, Common name, Soil or Situation, Colour, Growth, and time of
+Flowering of all plants, arranged in a tabulated form. 2nd Edition, revised.
+Fcap. 8vo. 4<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">MY GARDEN; its Plan and Culture. Together with a General
+Description of its Geology, Botany, and Natural History. By A. Smee, F.R.S.,
+with more than 1300 Engravings on Wood. 4th Thousand, imp. 8vo. 21<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'My Garden' is indeed a book which ought to be in the hands
+of everyone who is fortunate enough to possess a garden of his own; he is
+certain to find some things in it from which he may profit.&quot;--<i>Nature</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. With Notes by Sir William Jardine
+and Edward Jesse, Esq. Illustrated by 40 highly-finished Engravings; or, with
+the Plates coloured, 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">HISTORY OF BRITISH BIRDS. By R. Mudie. With 28 Plates. 2 vols.
+7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>ART AND ORNAMENT</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">TURNER'S PICTURESQUE VIEWS IN ENGLAND AND WALES. With
+Descriptive Notices. 96 Illustrations, reproduced in Permanent Photography. In 3
+vols. imp. 4to. Vol. I. Landscapes, 40 Plates, 2<i>l</i>. 12<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.;
+Vol. II. Castles and Abbeys, 32 Plates, 2<i>l</i>. 2<i>s</i>.; Vol. III. Coast
+Scenery, 24 Plates, 1<i>l</i>. 11<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">TURNER'S CELEBRATED LANDSCAPES. Sixteen Autotype Reproductions
+of the most important Works of J. M. W. Turner, R.A. With Memoir and
+Descriptions. Imp. 4to. 2<i>l</i>. 2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">THE RAFFAELLE GALLERY. Permanent Reproductions in Autotype of
+Engravings of the most celebrated Works of Raffaelle Sanzio d'Urbino. With
+Descriptions, &amp;c. Imp. quarto, 2<i>l</i>. 2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">FLAXMAN. CLASSICAL COMPOSITIONS, comprising the Outline
+Illustrations to Homer's 'Iliad' and 'Odyssey,' the 'Tragedies' of Ĉschylus, the
+'Theogony' and 'Works and Days' of Hesiod, engraved by Piroli of Rome, and
+William Blake. Imp. 4to. half bound morocco, 4<i>l</i>. 14<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.
+The four parts, separately, 21<i>s</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- THE DRAWINGS OF. Thirty-two large Plates, comprising the
+entire Series of the Flaxman Drawings in the Gallery of University College,
+London, reproduced by the Autotype Process of Permanent Photography. Edited,
+with a descriptive letterpress and copious Introduction, by Sidney Colvin, M.A.,
+Fellow of Trinity College and Slade Professor in the University of Cambridge.
+Large folio, in portfolio, 10<i>l</i>. 10<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">MEMOIRS OF SIR EDWIN LANDSEER. Being a New Edition of 'The
+Early Works of Sir Edwin Landseer.' Revised and enlarged by F. G. Stephens. With
+24 Illustrations in Photography. Imp. 8vo. 1<i>l</i>. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">NOTES ON IRISH ARCHITECTURE. By the late Earl Of Dunraven.
+Edited by M. Stokes, Associate of the Scottish Society of Antiquaries. With
+numerous Woodcuts and fine Photographic Illustrations. Imp. 4to. Vol. I. 4<i>l</i>.
+4<i>s</i>.; Vol. II. 4<i>l</i>. 4<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">MOUNTAINS AND LAKES Of Switzerland AND ITALY. 64 Picturesque
+Views in Chromolithograph, from Original Sketches by C. C. Pyne. With a Map of
+Routes and Descriptive Notes by Rev. J. Mercier. 2nd Edition. Crown 4to. 2<i>l</i>.
+2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">RIVIERA, THE. Pen-and-Pencil Sketches from Cannes to Genoa. By
+Dean Alford. With 12 Chromolithographic Illustrations and numerous Woodcuts,
+from Drawings by the Author. Imp. 8vo. 21<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">CRUIKSHANK (G.) A COMPLETE CATALOGUE OF THE ENGRAVED WORKS OF.
+Including Etchings on Steel, Copper, &amp;c., and Woodcuts executed between the
+years 1805 and 1870. Compiled by G. W. Reid, Keeper of the Prints and Drawings
+in the British Museum. With a large number of Illustrations, chiefly from the
+Original Plates and Blocks. In 3 vols. royal 4to. 12<i>l</i>. 12<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">FLAXMAN. LECTURES ON SCULPTURE, as delivered before the
+President and Members of the Royal Academy. By J. Flaxman, R.A. With 53 Plates.
+New Edition, 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">HEATON (MRS.) A CONCISE HISTORY OF PAINTING FOR STUDENTS AND
+GENERAL READERS. By Mrs. Heaton. With Illustrations. 8vo. 15<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">DRAWING COPIES. By P. H. Delamotte, Professor of Drawing at
+King's College, London. 96 Original Sketches in Architecture, Trees, Figures,
+Foregrounds, Landscapes, Boats, and Sea--pieces. Royal 8vo. Oblong, half-bound,
+12<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">HANDBOOK TO THE DEPARTMENT OF PRINTS AND DRAWINGS IN THE
+BRITISH MUSEUM. With Introduction and Notices of the various Schools, and a
+Frontispiece after Raffaelle. By Louis Fagan, of the Department of Prints and
+Drawings, British Museum. Medium 8vo. 8<i>s</i>.; sewed, 9<i>s</i>. in cloth.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>By Eliza Meteyard</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">MEMORIALS OF WEDGWOOD. A Series of Plaques, Cameos, Vases, &amp;c.,
+selected from various Private Collections, and executed in Permanent
+Photography. With Introduction and Descriptions. Imp. 4to. 3<i>l</i>. 3<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">WEDGWOOD AND HIS WORKS: a Selection of his choicest Plaques,
+Medallions, Vases, &amp;c, from Designs by Flaxman and others, in Permanent
+Photography, with a Sketch of his Life and of the Progress of his Art
+Manufacture. Imp. 4to. 3<i>l</i>. 3<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">CATALOGUE OF WEDGWOOD'S MANUFACTURES. With Illustrations.
+Half-bound 8vo. 10<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">WEDGWOOD HANDBOOK. A Manual for Collectors: Treating of the
+Marks, Monograms, and other Tests of the Old Period of Manufacture; also
+including the Catalogues with Prices obtained at various Sales, together with a
+Glossary of Terms. 8vo. 10<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>OLD DERBY CHINA FACTORY.</b> The Workmen and their
+Productions. Containing Biographical Sketches of the chief Artist-workmen, the
+various Marks used, Facsimiles from the old Derby Books, and original Price
+Lists of more than 400 Figures and Groups, &amp;c. With 12 Coloured Plates and
+numerous Woodcuts. By <span class="sc">John Haslem</span>. Imp. 8vo. 31<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'That which has been done so well by Miss Meteyard for
+Etruria, by Mr. Binns for Worcester, and by Mr. Owen for Bristol, has now been
+done for the Derby works with at least equal zeal, intelligence, and ability, by
+Mr. Haslem.'--<i>Staffordshire Advertiser</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>AUNT JUDY'S MAGAZINE.</b> Edited by <span class="sc">H. K.
+F. Gatty</span>. A High-class Illustrated Magazine for Young People. 8<i>d</i>.
+Monthly.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">The CHRISTMAS VOLUME for 1877 contains Stories by Mrs. Ewing,
+Ascott R. Hope, Flora Masson, and others. Translations from the German, French,
+and Swedish--Short Stories--Fairy Tales--Papers on Historical Subjects--Natural
+History Articles. Short Biographies of Eminent Persons--Verses--A Christmas Play
+by Douglas Straight--Acrostics--Correspondence--Book Notices, and numerous
+Illustrations. Imp. 16mo. Handsomely bound, price 8<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Former Volumes may still be had, some at reduced prices</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By Mrs. Alfred Gatty</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PARABLES FROM NATURE.</b> With Notes on the Natural History;
+and numerous large Illustrations by eminent Artists. 4to. cloth gilt, 21<i>s</i>.
+Also in 2 vols. 10<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1">---- 16mo. with Illustrations. First Series, 17th Edition, 1<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>. Second Series, 10th Edition, 2<i>s</i>. The two Series in 1 vol. 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>. Third Series, 6th Edition, 2<i>s</i>. Fourth Series, 4th Edition, 2<i>s</i>.
+The two Series in one vol. 4<i>s</i>. Fifth Series, 2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>WORLDS NOT REALIZED.</b> 16mo. 4th Edition, 2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>PROVERBS ILLUSTRATED.</b> 16mo. With Illustrations. 4th
+Edition, 2<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A BOOK OF EMBLEMS.</b> Drawn by <span class="sc">F. Gilbert</span>.
+With Introduction and Explanations. Imp. 16mo. 4<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>WAIFS AND STRAYS</b> OF NATURAL HISTORY. With Coloured
+Frontispiece and Woodcuts. Fcap. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE POOR INCUMBENT.</b> Fcap. 8vo. 1<i>s</i>. and 1<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>AUNT SALLY'S LIFE.</b> With Six Illustrations. Square 16mo.
+3rd Edition, 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE MOTHER'S BOOK OF POETRY</b>. Selected and Arranged by
+Mrs. <span class="sc">A. Gatty</span>. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.; or with
+Illustrations, elegantly bound, 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A BIT OF BREAD</b>. By <span class="sc">Jean Macé</span>.
+Translated by Mrs. <span class="sc">Alfred Gatty</span>. 2 vols. fcap. 8vo. Vol.
+I. 4<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. Vol. II. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">The Uniform Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each
+volume.</p>
+
+
+<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%">
+<colgroup><col style="width:50%; vertical-align:top">
+<col style="width:50%; vertical-align:top"></colgroup>
+<tr>
+<td><p class="hang1">PARABLES FROM NATURE. 2 vols. With Portrait.</p></td>
+<td><p class="hang1">DOMESTIC PICTURES AND TALES. With 6 Illustrations.</p></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><p class="hang1">THE HUMAN FACE DIVINE, and other Tales. With Illustrations.
+3rd Edition.</p></td>
+<td><p class="hang1">WORLDS NOT REALIZED, and Proverbs Illustrated.</p></td>
+
+
+
+</tr><tr>
+<td><p class="hang1">THE FAIRY GODMOTHERS, and other Tales. With Frontispiece.
+7th Edition, 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p></td>
+<td><p class="hang1">THE HUNDRETH BIRTHDAY, and other Tales. With Illustrations
+by <span class="sc">Phiz</span>. New Edition.</p></td>
+
+
+
+</tr><tr>
+<td><p class="hang1">AUNT JUDY'S TALES. Illustrated. 7th Edition.</p>
+<p class="hang1">AUNT JUDY'S LETTERS; a Sequel to 'Aunt Judy's Tales.'
+Illustrated. 5th Edition.</p></td>
+<td><p class="hang1">MRS. ALFRED GATTY'S PRESENTATION BOX for Young People,
+containing the above volumes, neatly bound, and enclosed in a cloth box. 31<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p></td>
+</tr></table>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By Mrs. Ewing</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Everything Mrs. Ewing writes is full of talent, and also full
+of perception and common sense.'--<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A GREAT EMERGENCY</b>, and other Tales. With 4
+Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo. 5<i>s</i>. [<i>Just published.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE BROWNIES</b>, and other Tales. Illustrated by <span class="sc">
+George Cruikshank</span>. 3rd Edition. Imp. 16mo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mrs. Ewing gives us some really charming writing. While her
+first story most prettily teaches children how much they can do to help their
+parents, the immediate result will be, we fear, anything but good. For if a
+child once begins &quot;The Brownies,&quot; it will get so deeply interested in it, that
+when bed-time comes it will altogether forget the moral, and will weary its
+parents with importunities for just a few minutes more to see how everything
+ends. The frontispiece, by the old friend of our childhood, George Cruikshank,
+is no less pretty than the story.'--<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MRS. OVERTHEWAY'S REMEMBRANCES.</b> Illustrated with 10 fine
+Full-page Engravings on Wood, after Drawings by <span class="sc">Pasquier</span>
+and <span class="sc">Wolf</span>, and Edition, cloth gilt, 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is not often nowadays the privilege of a critic to grow
+enthusiastic over a new work; and the rarity of the occasion that calls forth
+the delight is apt to lead one into the sin of hyperbole. And yet we think we
+shall not be accused of extravagance when we say that, without exception, &quot;Mrs.
+Overthewny's Remembrances&quot; is the most delightful work avowedly written for
+children that we have ever read. There are passages in this book which the
+genius of George Eliot would be proud to own. It is full of a peculiar,
+heart-stirring pathos of its own, which culminates in the last pages, when Ida
+finds that her father is not dead. The book is one that may be recurred to
+often, and always with the same delight. We predict for it a great
+popularity.'--
+<i>Leader</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>MELCHIOR'S DREAM</b>, and other Tales. Illustrated. 3rd
+Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Melchior's Dream' is an exquisite little story, charming by
+original humour, buoyant spirits, and tender pathos.&quot;--<i>Athenĉum</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING</b>; or, Some Passages in the
+Life of an Only Son. With 12 Illustrations by <span class="sc">H. Allingham</span>.
+5th Edition. Small 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Let every parent and guardian who wishes to be amused, and at
+the same time to please a child, purchase &quot;A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or, some
+Passages in the Life of an Only Son,&quot; by J. H Ewing. We will answer for the
+delight with which they will read it themselves, and we do not doubt that the
+young and fortunate recipients will also like it. The story is quaint, original,
+and altogether delightful.'--<i>Athenĉum</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A capital book for a present. No child who is fortunate
+enough to possess it will be in a hurry to put it down, for it is a book of
+uncommon fascination. The story is good, the principles inculcated admirable,
+and some of the illustrations simply delicious.'--<i>John Bull</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LOB-LIE-BY-THE-FIRE</b>; or, the Luck of Lingborough. And
+other Tales. Illustrated by <span class="sc">George Cruikshank</span>. 2nd
+Edition. Imp. 16mo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A charming tale by another of those clever writers, thanks to
+whom the children are now really better served than their neighbours.'--<i>Spectator</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mrs. Ewing has written as good a story as her &quot;Brownies,&quot; and
+that is saying a great deal. &quot;Lob-lie-by-the-fire&quot; has humour and pathos, and
+teaches what is right without making children think they are reading a
+sermon.'--<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>SIX TO SIXTEEN</b>: A Story for Girls. With 10 Illustrations
+by Mrs.
+<span class="sc">Allingham</span>. 3rd Edition. Small post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The homely good sense and humour of the bulk of the story are
+set off by the pathos of its opening and its close, and a soft and beautiful
+light, as of dawn and sunset, is thrown round the substantial English ideal of
+what a girl's education ought to be, which runs through the tale.'--<i>Spectator</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is a beautifully told story, full of humour and pathos,
+and bright sketches of scenery and character. It is all told with great
+naturalness, and will amuse grown-up people quite as much as children. In
+reading the story, we have been struck especially by characteristic bits of
+description, which show very happily the writer's appreciation of child life.'--<i>Pall
+Mall Gazette</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We have rarely met, on such a modest scale, with characters
+so ably and simply drawn ... The merits of the volume, in themselves not small,
+are much enhanced by some clever illustrations from the pencil of Mrs.
+Allingham.'--<i>Athenĉum</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The tone of the book is pleasant and healthy, and singularly
+free from that sentimental, not to say &quot;mawkish,&quot; stain which is apt to
+disfigure such productions. The illustrations by Mrs. Allingham add a special
+attraction to the little volume.'--<i>Times</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is scarcely necessary to say that Mrs. Ewing's book is one
+of the best of the year.'--<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There is in it not only a great deal of common sense, but
+there is true humour.... We have not met a healthier or breezier tale for girls
+for a long period.'--<i>Academy</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>JAN OF THE WINDMILL</b>; a Story of the Plains. With 11
+Illustrations by Helen Allingham. Crown 8vo. 8<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A capital story, which, like all that Mrs. Ewing gives us,
+will be read with pleasure Some well-drawn illustrations materially increase the
+attractiveness of the volume.'--<i>City Press</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By Mrs. O'Reilly</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mrs. O'Reilly's works need no commendation ... the style is
+so good, the narrative so engrossing, and the tone so excellent.'--<i>John Bull</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LITTLE PRESCRIPTION</b>, and other Tales. With 6
+Illustrations by W. H. Petherick and others. 16mo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A worthy successor of some charming little volumes of the
+same kind.... The tale from which the title is taken is for its grace and pathos
+an especial favourite.'--<i>Spectator</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Mrs. O'Reilly could not write otherwise than well, even if
+she were to try.'--<i>Morning Post</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CICELY'S CHOICE</b>, A Story for Girls. With a Frontispiece
+by J. A. Pasquier. Fcap. 8vo. gilt edges, 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A pleasant story.... It is a book for girls, and grown people
+will also enjoy reading it.'--<i>Athenĉum</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'A pleasant, well-written, interesting story, likely to be
+acceptable to young people who are in their teens.'--<i>Scotsman</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GILES'S MINORITY</b>; or, Scenes at the Red House. With 8
+Illustrations. 16mo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'In one of our former reviews we praised &quot;Deborah's Drawer.&quot;
+&quot;Giles's Minority&quot; no less deserves our goodwill. It is a picture of school-room
+life, and is so well drawn that grown-up readers may delight in it. In literary
+excellence this little book is above most of its fellows.'--<i>Times</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>DOLL WORLD</b>; or, Play and Earnest. A Study from Real
+Life. With 8 Illustrations. By C. A. Saltmarsh. 16mo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It is a capital child's book, and it has a charm for grown-up
+people also, as the fairy haze of &quot;long-ago&quot; brightens every page. We are not
+ashamed to confess to the &quot;thrilling interest&quot; with which we followed the
+history of &quot;Robertina&quot; and &quot;Mabel.&quot;'--<i>Athenĉum</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>DEBORAH'S DRAWER</b>. With 9 Illustrations. 16mo. 2<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'Any godmamma who wishes to buy an unusually pretty and
+artistically-written gift-book for an eight-year-old pet cannot do better than
+spend a florin or two on the contents of &quot;Aunt Deborah's Drawer.&quot;'--<i>Athenĉum</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>DAISY'S COMPANIONS</b>; or, Scenes from Child Life. A Story
+for Little Girls. With 8 Illustrations. 3rd Edit. 16mo. 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'If anybody wants a pretty little present for a pretty (and
+good) little daughter, or a niece or grand-daughter, we cannot recommend a
+better or tastier one than &quot;Daisy's Companions.&quot;'--<i>Times</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>Captain Marryats Books for Boys</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center">Uniform Illustrated Edition, neatly bound in cloth, post 8vo.
+3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. each; gilt edges, 4<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%">
+<tr>
+<td><p class="hang1"><b>POOR JACK.</b> With Sixteen Illustrations after Designs
+by
+<span class="sc">Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.</span></p></td>
+<td><p class="hang1"><b>THE SETTLERS IN CANADA.</b>
+With Illustrations by <span class="sc">Gilbert</span> and <span class="sc">
+Dalziel</span>.</p></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><p class="hang1"><b>THE MISSION</b>; or, Scenes in Africa. With
+Illustrations by <span class="sc">John Gilbert</span>.</p></td>
+<td><p class="hang1"><b>THE PRIVATEERSMAN.</b>
+Adventures by Sea and Land in Civil and Savage Life One Hundred Years Ago.
+Illustrated with Eight Steel Engravings.</p></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td><p class="hang1"><b>THE PIRATE, AND THREE CUTTERS</b>. With Memoir of the
+Author, and 20 Steel Engravings by <span class="sc">Clarkson Stanfield, R.A</span>.</p>
+<p class="normal">Cheap Edition, without Illustrations, 1<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p></td>
+<td><p class="hang1"><b>MASTERMAN READY</b>; or, the Wreck of the Pacific.
+Embellished with Ninety-three Engravings on Wood.</p></td>
+</tr></table>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>A BOY'S LOCKER.</b> A Smaller Edition of Captain Marryat's
+Books for Boys, in 12 vols. Fcap. 8vo. in a compact cloth box, 21<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="center"><i>By Hans Christian Andersen</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FAIRYTALES AND SKETCHES.</b> Translated by C. C. Peachey, H.
+Ward, A. Plesner, &amp;c. With 104 Illustrations by Otto Speckter and others. Crown
+8vo. 6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The translation most happily hits the delicate quaintness of
+Andersen--most happily transposes into simple English words the tender precision
+of the famous story-teller; in a keen examination of the book we scarcely recall
+a single phrase or turn that obviously could have been bettered.'--<i>Daily
+Telegraph</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>TALES FOR CHILDREN.</b> With 48 Full-page Illustrations by
+Wehnert, and 57 Small Engravings on Wood by W. Thomas. A new Edition. Crown 8vo.
+6<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This and the above volume form the most complete English
+Edition of Andersen's Tales.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LATER TALES.</b> Translated from the Danish by Augusta
+Plesner and H. Ward. With Illustrations by Otto Speckter, W. Cooper, and other
+Artists. Cloth gilt, 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<hr class="W10">
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>WONDERWORLD.</b> A Collection of Fairy Tales, Old and New.
+Translated from the French, German, and Danish. With 4 Coloured Illustrations
+and numerous Woodcuts by L. Richter, Oscar Pletsch, and others. Royal 16mo.
+cloth, gilt edges, 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'It will delight the children, and has in it a wealth of
+wisdom that may be of practical service when they have grown into men and
+women.'--<i>Literary World</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GUESSING STORIES</b>; or, The Surprising Adventures of the
+Man with the Extra Pair of Eyes. By the late Archdeacon Freeman. 3rd Edition, 2<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GRIMM'S GAMMER GRETHEL</b>; or, German Fairy Tales and
+Popular Stories. Translated by Edgar Taylor. Numerous Woodcuts after G.
+Cruikshank's designs. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>LITTLE PLAYS FOR LITTLE PEOPLE</b>; with Hints for
+Drawing-room Performances. By Mrs. Chisholm, Author of 'Rana, the Story of a
+Frog.' 16mo. with Illustrations, 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ROBINSON CRUSOE.</b> With a Biographical Account of Defoe.
+Illustrated with 70 Wood Engravings, chiefly after Designs by Harvey; and 12
+Engravings on Steel after Stothard. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD.</b> By E. Wetherell. With 10
+Illustrations. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.</b> By H. B. Stowe. Illustrated. Post
+8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>KIRSTIN'S ADVENTURES.</b> A Story of Jutland Life. By the
+Author of 'Casimir the Little Exile,' &amp;c. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'There is so much true art and natural talent in the book that
+we are half inclined to take it away from the boys and girls for whom it is
+written.'--<i>Times</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>KATIE</b>; or, the Simple Heart. By D. Richmond, Author of
+'Annie Maitland.' Illustrated by M. I. Booth. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'The family life which surrounds Katie is both pretty and
+natural. The tone is good, and the plot--we speak from experience--engages a
+child's interest with almost too keen a sympathy.'--<i>Guardian</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>QUEENS OF ENGLAND</b> from the Norman Conquest. By A.
+Strickland. An Abridged Edition, with Portrait of Matilda of Flanders. In 1 vol.
+crown 8vo. cloth, 6<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GLIMPSES INTO PET-LAND.</b> By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A.,
+F.L.S. With Frontispiece. Fcap. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>FRIENDS IN FUR AND FEATHERS.</b> By Gwynfryn. Illustrated
+with 8 Full-page Engravings by F. W. Keyl, &amp;c. 5th Edition. Handsomely bound, 3<i>s</i>.
+6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'We have already characterised some other book as the best
+cat-and-dog book of the season. We said so because we had not seen the present
+little book, which is delightful. It is written on an artistic principle,
+consisting of actual biographies of certain elephants, squirrels, blackbirds,
+and what not, who lived in the flesh; and we only wish that human biographies
+were always as entertaining and instructive.'--<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>INSECT ARCHITECTURE.</b> By Rennie. Edited by the Rev. J. G.
+Wood, Author of 'Homes Without Hands.' Post 8vo. with nearly 200 Illustrations,
+5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE ENTERTAINING NATURALIST.</b> By Mrs. Loudon. Revised and
+enlarged by W. S. Dallas, F.L.S. With nearly 500 Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>ANECDOTES OF DOGS.</b> By Edward Jesse. With Illustrations.
+Post 8vo. cloth, 5<i>s</i>. With 34 Steel Engravings after Cooper, Landseer, &amp;c.
+7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE.</b> By Gilbert White. Edited by
+Jesse. Illustrated with 40 Engravings. Post 8vo. 5<i>s</i>.; or, with the Plates
+Coloured, 7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>CHARADES, ENIGMAS, AND RIDDLES.</b> Collected by a Cantab.
+5th Edition, enlarged. Illustrated. Fcap. 8vo. 1<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>POETRY-BOOK FOR SCHOOLS</b>, illustrated with 37 highly
+finished Engravings by C. W. Cope, R.A., W. Helmsley, S. Palmer, F. Skill, G.
+Thomas, and H. Weir. Crown 8vo. gilt, 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.; cloth, 1<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>GILES WITHERNE</b>; or, the Reward of Disobedience. A
+Village Tale for the Young. By the Rev. J. P. Parkinson, D.C.L. 6th Edition.
+Illustrated by the Rev. F. W. Mann. Super-royal 16mo. 1<i>s</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.</b> By John Bunyan. With 281
+Engravings from Designs by William Harvey. Post 8vo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>OLD NURSERY RHYMES AND CHIMES.</b> Collected and arranged by
+a Peal of Bells. Fcap. 4to. Ornamental binding, 2<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><b>NURSERY CAROLS.</b> By the Rev. Dr. Monsell, Rector of St.
+Nicholas, Guildford, with upwards of 100 Illustrations by Ludwig Richter and
+Oscar Pletsch. Imp. 16mo. 3<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">'At once a poet and a child lover, full of fun and yet
+disposed gently to instil what is good, Dr. Monsell is inimitable in this
+particular department.'--<i>John Bull</i>.</p>
+
+<hr class="W20">
+
+<h3>LONDON:</h3>
+
+<h2>GEORGE BELL &amp; SONS, York Street,</h2>
+
+<h4>Covent Garden.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing, by 
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF LESSING ***
+
+***** This file should be named 33435-h.htm or 33435-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/4/3/33435/
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+
+</html>
+
diff --git a/33435-h/images/lessing.png b/33435-h/images/lessing.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..21ae962
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33435-h/images/lessing.png
diff --git a/33435.txt b/33435.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..be45c37
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33435.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,21548 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing, by
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing
+       Miss Sara Sampson, Philotas, Emilia Galotti, Nathan the Wise
+
+Author: Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+Contributor: Helen Zimmern
+
+Translator: Ernest Bell
+
+Release Date: August 15, 2010 [EBook #33435]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF LESSING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+1. Page scan source:
+   http://books.google.com/books?id=BPQIAAAAQAAJ&pg
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Lessing.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           THE DRAMATIC WORKS
+
+                                   OF
+
+                             G. E. LESSING.
+
+
+                      Translated from the German.
+
+
+
+                               EDITED BY
+                           ERNEST BELL, M.A.,
+                      TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
+
+
+
+                 WITH A SHORT MEMOIR BY HELEN ZIMMERN.
+
+
+
+           _MISS SARA SAMPSON_, _PHILOTAS_, _EMILIA GALOTTI_,
+                           _NATHAN THE WISE_.
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON:
+                   GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET,
+                             COVENT GARDEN.
+                                 1878.
+
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON:
+                  PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES ANB SONS,
+                   STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
+
+
+
+
+                                PREFACE.
+
+
+A Translation of some of Lessing's works has long been contemplated for
+'Bonn's Standard Library,' and the publishers are glad to be able to
+bring it out at a time when an increased appreciation of this writer
+has become manifest in this country.
+
+The publication of Mr. Sime's work on Lessing, and the almost
+simultaneous appearance of Miss Helen Zimmern's shorter but probably
+more popular biographical study, will, without doubt, tend to spread
+amongst English-speaking people a knowledge of a writer who is held in
+peculiar reverence by his own countrymen; and there is little, if
+anything, of what he wrote that does not appeal in some way or other to
+the sympathies of Englishmen.
+
+In this translation it is purposed to include the most popular of his
+works--the first two volumes comprising all the finished dramatic
+pieces, whilst the third will contain the famous 'Laokoon,' and a large
+portion of the 'Hamburg Dramaturgy' (here called 'Dramatic Notes'), and
+some other smaller pieces.
+
+The arrangement of the plays is as follows:--The first volume contains
+the three tragedies and the "dramatic poem," 'Nathan the Wise.' This
+last piece and 'Emilia Galotti' are translated by Mr. R. Dillon Boylan,
+whose English versions of Schiller's 'Don Carlos,' Goethe's 'Wilhelm
+Meister,' &c., had previously distinguished him in this path of
+literature.
+
+The second volume will be found to consist entirely of comedies,
+arranged according to the date of composition; and as it happens that
+all these comedies, with the exception of the last and best, 'Minna von
+Barnhelm,' were written before he published any more serious dramatic
+composition, we have, by reversing the order of the first two volumes,
+an almost exactly chronological view of Lessing's dramatic work. The
+later section of it has been placed at the commencement of the series,
+simply because it was more convenient to include in it the introductory
+notice which Miss Zimmern kindly consented to write.
+
+York Street, Covent Garden.
+      _June_ 1878.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+      Memoir
+
+      Miss Sara Sampson
+
+      Philotas
+
+      Emilia Galotti
+
+      Nathan The Wise
+
+
+
+
+                                LESSING.
+
+
+Since Luther, Germany has produced no greater or better man than
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing; these two are Germany's pride and joy.
+
+This is the witness of Heine, and with Goethe in memory, none would
+pronounce the statement too bold. Luther and Lessing are Germany's
+representative men; each inaugurates an epoch the very existence of
+which would not have been possible without him. Nor is this the only
+point of analogy. Lessing was the Luther of the eighteenth century.
+Like Luther, Lessing is distinguished by earnestness, ardour, true
+manliness, fierce hatred of dissimulation, largeness of mind, breadth,
+and profundity of thought. Like Luther, he stands in history a massive
+presence whereon the weak may lean. Like Luther, he led the vanguard of
+reform in every department of human learning into which he penetrated.
+Like Luther, he was true to every conviction, and did not shrink from
+its expression. Like Luther, he could have said, "I was born to fight
+with devils and storms, and hence it is that my writings are so
+boisterous and stormy." Like Luther, he became the founder of a new
+religion and of a new German literature. And again, like Luther, his
+life labours were not for Germany alone, but spread over all Europe;
+and few of us know how much of our present culture we owe directly or
+indirectly to Lessing's influence.
+
+In this country he has not been sufficiently known. Up to the present,
+his name has been familiar to Englishmen only as the author of the
+'Laokoon,' 'Nathan the Wise,' and, possibly also, of 'Minna von
+Barnhelm.' In knowing these, we certainly know the names of some of his
+masterpieces, but we cannot thence deduce the entire cause of the man's
+far-spreading influence.
+
+Fully to understand Lessing's influence, and fully to understand the
+bearing of his works, some slight previous acquaintance with German
+literature is absolutely requisite. For unless we comprehend the source
+whence an author's inspirations have sprung, we may often misconceive
+his views. And Lessing's writings, above all, essentially sprang from
+the needs of his time. The subject is a large one, and can only be
+briefly indicated here; but we venture to remark, for those whose
+interest may be aroused in the subject of this volume, that the fuller
+their knowledge of the man and the motive force that evoked his works,
+the keener will be their enjoyment of these works themselves.
+
+In naming Lessing, Goethe, and Schiller, we utter the three greatest
+names that German literature can boast. And between the three runs a
+connecting link of endeavour; the efforts of none can be conceived
+without the efforts of the others; but Lessing was the leader. He was
+the mental pathfinder who smoothed the way for Goethe's genius, and
+prepared the popular understanding for Schiller, the poetical
+interpreter of Kant.
+
+Lessing was born in the early years of the eighteenth century, at a
+time therefore when Germany may be said practically to have had no
+literature. For the revival of learning, the interest in letters that
+arose with the Reformation, and had been fostered by the emancipating
+spirit of Protestantism, had been blighted and extinguished by the
+terrible wars that ravaged the country for thirty years, impoverishing
+the people, destroying the homesteads and farms, and utterly
+annihilating the mental repose needful to the growth and to the just
+appreciation of literature. Books were destroyed as relentlessly in
+those sad times as flourishing cornfields were down-trodden by the iron
+heel of the invader. It was a fearful period of anarchy and
+retrogression, under the baneful effects of which Germany still
+labours. Peace was at last restored in 1648 by the Treaty of
+Westphalia, but it found the nation broken in spirit and vigour, and
+where material needs entirely absorb the mental energies of a people
+the Muses cannot flourish. And not only was the spirit of the people
+broken by the war, their national feeling seemed totally extinct. The
+bold fine language wherewith Luther had endowed them was neglected and
+despised by the better classes, who deemed servile imitation of the
+foreigner the true and only criterion of good taste. It grew, at last,
+to be held quite a distinction for a German to be unable to speak his
+own language correctly, and it seems probable that but for the
+religious utterances of the hymn-writers, who thus provided the poor
+oppressed people with ideal consolations, the very essence of the
+language, in all its purity, might have perished. It is among these
+hymn-writers that we must seek and shall find the finest, truest, and
+most national expressions of that time. Shortly before Lessing's birth
+there had awakened a sense of this national degradation, and some
+princes and nobles formed themselves into a society to suppress the
+fashionable Gallicisms and reinstate the people's language. Their
+efforts met with some little success, but their powers were too
+limited, and their attempts too artificial and jejune to exert any
+considerable influence either in the direction of conservation or of
+reform. It needed something stronger, bolder, to dispel the apathy of a
+century. Still these associations, known as the two Silesian schools,
+bore their part in sowing the good seed, and though most of it fell on
+stony ground, because there was little other ground for it whereon to
+fall, still some fell on fruitful earth, and brought forth in due
+season. An excessive interest in French literature was opposed by an
+equal interest in English literature. The adherents of these two
+factions formed what was known as the Swiss and Leipzig schools. They
+waged a fierce paper warfare, that had the good effect of once more
+attracting popular attention to the claims of letters, as well as
+showing the people that in French manners, French language, and French
+literature, the Alpha and Omega of culture need not of necessity be
+sought. The leader of the Leipzig faction, who stood by the French, was
+Gottsched, a German professor of high pretensions and small merits, who
+put his opponents on their mettle by his pedantic and arrogant attacks.
+He had instituted himself a national dictator of good taste, and for a
+long time it seemed probable that he and his party would triumph. His
+ultimate defeat was accomplished by Lessing, whose early boyhood was
+contemporaneous with the fiercest encounters of these antagonists. It
+was he who gave the death-blow to their factious disputes, and referred
+the nation back to itself and its own national glory and power. He
+found Germany without original literature, and, before his short life
+was ended, the splendid genius of Goethe shed its light over the land.
+Who and what was the man who effected so much?
+
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing was born on the twenty-second of January,
+1729, at Camentz, a small town in Saxony, of which his father was head
+pastor. For several generations Lessing's ancestors had been
+distinguished for their learning, and with few exceptions they had all
+held ecclesiastical preferment. The father of Gotthold Ephraim was a
+man of no inconsiderable talents and acquirements. His upright
+principles, breadth of vision and scholarly attainments, made him a
+venerated example to his son, with whom he maintained through life the
+most cordial relationship, though the son's yet more enlightened
+standpoint came to transcend the comprehension of the father. Their
+first divergence occurred on the choice of a profession. It had been
+traditional among the Lessings that the eldest son should take orders,
+and accordingly Gotthold Ephraim was silently assumed to be training
+for the ministry. He was sent for this end, first to the Grammar-school
+of his native town, then to a public school at Meissen, and finally to
+the University of Leipzig. At Meissen he distinguished himself in
+classical studies, and attempted some original German verses. He
+outstripped his compeers, and before he had accomplished his
+curriculum, the rector recommended his removal, inasmuch as he had
+exhausted the resources of the school. At Leipzig he appeared to turn
+his back on study. He deserted the class-rooms of the theologians and
+was the more constant attendant instead at the theatre, at that time
+the _bete noire_ of all who affected respectability, and decried loudly
+by the clergy as a very hotbed of vice. News of their son's haunts
+reached the dismayed parents. They urged him to abandon his courses,
+that could only end in mental and moral destruction. In vain the son
+represented to them that he had lived in retirement too long, that he
+now wished to become acquainted with the world and men, and that he
+held the theatre to be a popular educator. In vain he represented that
+he did attend the philosophical courses of Professors Kaestner,
+Ernesti, and Christ. He was a playgoer, and what was still worse, he
+was a play-writer, for the directress of the Leipzig Theatre, Frau
+Neuber, a woman, of great taste and intelligence, had put on the stage
+Lessing's juvenile effort, 'The Young Scholar.' Nay more, he associated
+with a notorious freethinker, Mylius, and in concert with him had
+contributed to various journals and periodicals. And meanwhile the
+magistracy of Camentz was allowing Lessing a stipend on condition of
+studying theology. It was too much. His son was neglecting the _dic cur
+hic_, and to obviate this the father recalled him home by a stratagem,
+informing him that his mother was dying and desired once more to see
+her son. The _ruse_, intended also as a test of Lessing's filial
+obedience, succeeded in so far as to prove that this was at least
+unshaken; but his parents urged in vain that he should abandon his evil
+ways. He once more expressed with great decision his disinclination
+towards a theological career. But he was also firmly resolved to be no
+longer a burden to his parents, whose large family was a great drain on
+their resources. He determined to follow Mylius, who had gone to Berlin
+in the capacity of editor, convinced that a good brain and steadfast
+will would force their own way in the world.
+
+Accordingly Lessing settled in Berlin in 1748, a youth of barely twenty
+years, prepared to fight a hand-to-hand struggle for existence.
+Frederick the Great at that time ruled in Prussia, and his capital was
+in ill repute as a hotbed of frivolity and atheism. If anything could
+be worse in the parents' eyes than their son's attendance at the
+theatre, it was his presence at Berlin. They urged his return home. He
+refused respectfully but decidedly. He had found employment that
+remunerated him. Voss's _Gazette_ had appointed him literary editor, he
+wrote its critical feuilletons, and here he had the first opportunity
+of attacking the Swiss and Leipzig factions, and of exposing the
+absurdities of both schools. He was able to teach himself Spanish and
+Italian, he translated for the booksellers, he catalogued a library;
+and while thus earning his livelihood _tant bien que mal_, he
+indirectly prosecuted his studies and enlarged his knowledge of
+literature and life. For at Berlin he was not forced to associate only
+with books, he also came in contact with intellectual men, his views
+expanded, his judgment became sure. A volume of minor poems that he
+published in 1751 excited attention.
+
+The essays he contributed to Voss's _Gazette_ gave him notoriety on
+account of their independent spirit, their pregnant flashes of
+originality and truth. This unknown youth ventured alone and
+unsupported to attack Gottsched's meretricious writings, and so
+successfully that even the vain dictator trembled, and the rival
+schools asked each other who was this Daniel that had come to judgment?
+With pitiless subtlety he exposed the crudity, the inflation of
+Klopstock's 'Messiah,' which at that time one half the world extolled,
+the other half abused, while he alone could truly distinguish in what
+respects the poem fell short of its pretensions to be a national epic,
+and where its national importance and merit really lay.
+
+For two years Lessing remained at Berlin; busy years, in which he
+scattered these treatises teeming with discernment and genius. Then at
+the end of that time he felt himself exhausted, he craved seclusion, in
+which he could once more live for himself and garner up fresh stores of
+knowledge. The city and his numerous friends were too distracting. So
+one day he stole away without previous warning and installed himself in
+the quiet university town of Wittenberg. At Wittenberg he spent a year
+of quiet study. The University library was freely opened to him, and he
+could boast that it did not contain a book he had not held in his
+hands. Wittenberg: being chiefly a theological university, Lessing's
+attention was principally attracted to that subject, and he here laid
+the foundations of the accurate knowledge that was in after years to
+stand him in great stead. When he had exhausted all that Wittenberg
+could offer, he one day (1752) reappeared at Berlin as unexpectedly as
+he had quitted it, and quickly resumed his old relations there, which
+proved as busy and significant as before. Lessing again maintained
+himself by authorship, but this time his productions were riper. He
+published several volumes of his writings. They contained treatises
+composed at Wittenberg, Rehabilitations (_Rettungen_) of distinguished
+men, whom he held the world had maligned, as well as several plays,
+among which were the 'Jews,' 'The Woman-hater,' 'The Freethinker,' 'The
+Treasure,' as well as the fragmentary play 'Samuel Henzi,' a novel
+attempt to treat of modern historical incidents on the stage. A
+somewhat savage attack, entitled 'Vade mecum,' in which he criticised
+unsparingly a certain Pastor Lange's rendering of 'Horace,' drew upon
+Lessing the attention of the learned world, and since he was in the
+right in his strictures, they regarded him with mingled fear and
+admiration. His renewed criticisms in Voss's _Gazette_ further
+maintained his reputation as a redoubtable critic.
+
+These were happy, hopeful years in Lessing's life; he enjoyed his work,
+and it brought him success. He had, moreover, formed some of the
+warmest friendships of his life with the bookseller Nicolai and the
+philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. With the former he discoursed on English
+literature, with the latter, on aesthetic and metaphysical themes. Their
+frequent reunions were sources of mental refreshment and invigoration
+to all three. What cared Lessing that his resources were meagre, he
+could live, and his father was growing more reconciled now that men of
+established repute lauded his son's works. Together with Mendelssohn,
+Lessing wrote an essay on a theme propounded by the Berlin Academy,
+'Pope a Metaphysician!' that did not obtain the prize, as it ridiculed
+the learned body which had proposed a ridiculous theme, but it
+attracted notice.
+
+In the year 1755 Lessing wrote 'Miss Sara Sampson,' a play that marks
+an epoch in his life and in German literature. It was the first German
+attempt at domestic drama, and was, moreover, written in prose instead
+of in the fashionable Alexandrines. The play was acted that same year
+at Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, and Lessing went to superintend in person.
+Its success was immense, and revived Lessing's love for the stage,
+which had rather flagged at Berlin from want of a theatre there. He
+accordingly resolved on this account to remove to Leipzig again, and
+disappeared from Berlin without announcing his intention to his
+friends.
+
+At Leipzig he once more lived among the comedians, and carried on a
+lively correspondence with Mendelssohn on the philosophical theories of
+the drama in general, with especial reference to Aristotle. A proposal
+to act as travelling companion to a rich Leipzig merchant interrupted
+this life. The pair started early in the year 1756, intending a long
+absence that should include a visit to England. The trip, however, did
+not extend beyond Holland, as the Seven Years' War broke out. Prussian
+troops were stationed at Leipzig, and this caused Lessing's companion
+to desire return. Return they accordingly did, Lessing waiting all the
+winter for the resumption of their interrupted project. But as the
+prospects of peace grew more distant, their contract was annulled, much
+to Lessing's regret, and also to his severe pecuniary loss. He found
+himself at Leipzig penniless, the theatre closed by the war, and
+interest in letters deadened from the same cause. He contrived,
+however, to maintain himself by hack-work for the booksellers; but it
+was a dismal time, not devoid, however, of some redeeming lights. The
+poet Von Kleist was then stationed at Leipzig, and with him Lessing
+formed a friendship that proved one of his warmest and tenderest. On
+the removal of Kleist to active service, Lessing determined to quit
+Leipzig, which had grown distasteful to him in its military hubbub. In
+May 1758 he once more appeared at Berlin, and fell into his former
+niche. He worked at his 'Fables,' wrote a play on the Greek models,
+'Philotas,' began a life of Sophocles, and edited and translated
+several works of minor importance. But the chief labour of the period
+was the establishment of a journal dealing with contemporary
+literature. It was to be written tersely, as was suited to a time of
+war and general excitement; and to connect it with the war, it was
+couched in the form of letters purporting to be addressed to an officer
+in the field, who wished to be kept acquainted with current literature.
+Kleist was certainly in Lessing's mind when he began. The letters were
+to be written by Mendelssohn, Nicolai, and Lessing, but nearly all the
+earlier ones are from Lessing's pen. The papers made a great mark, from
+their bold strictures and independence. They did not belong to either
+of the recognised coteries, plainly placing themselves on a footing
+outside and above them. Though they were issued anonymously, Lessing
+was now sufficiently known, and it was not long before they were
+universally attributed to him. Their peculiar merit was that they did
+not merely condemn the contemporary productions, but showed the way to
+their improvement. They are throughout written with dialectic
+brilliancy, vigour, and lively wit, so that they are classics to this
+day, although their immediate themes are long removed from our
+interests From these 'Letters Concerning Contemporary Literature' our
+modern science of criticism may be said to date. After this, works were
+no longer merely judged by ancient standards, but by their application
+to the demands of the age in which they were written.
+
+The news of Kleist's death affected Lessing severely, and so broke down
+his energies that he felt the imperative need of a change of scene. He
+therefore accepted an offer to act as secretary to General Tauentzien,
+who had been appointed Governor of Breslau. He followed him to that
+city in 1760, hoping to find renewed energies in a fixed employment
+that gave him good emolument and left him free time for self-culture.
+
+Lessing remained at this post for nearly five years, until the
+conclusion of the Seven Years' War, and though his letters of that
+period are very scanty, and though he gained evil repute at Breslau as
+a gambler and a tavern haunter, they were really the busiest and most
+studious years of his life. Here he read Spinoza and the Church
+Fathers, studied aesthetics and Winckelmann's newly issued 'History of
+Art,' wrote his 'Minna von Barnhelm,' and the 'Laokoon.' Their
+publication did not occur till his return to Berlin after the peace of
+Hubertsburg, when Lessing threw up his appointment, greatly to the
+dismay of his family, who had reckoned on it as a permanent resource.
+But Lessing had had enough of soldiers and military life, he had
+exhausted all they could teach him, and he craved to resume his
+studious and independent existence. He did not like it on resumption so
+well as he had thought he should at a distance. Restlessness seized
+him. He wanted to travel; to see Italy. His friends desired an
+appointment for him as royal librarian. He applied for the post, and
+was kept for some time in uncertainty. He failed, however, owing to
+Frederick's dislike to German learned men, and it was in vain that
+Lessing's friends pleaded that he was anything but the typical German
+pedant, uncouth, unkempt, who was Frederick's _bete noire_. To prove
+his efficiency for the post, Lessing had published his 'Laokoon.' He
+published it as a fragment, and, like too many of Lessing's works, it
+never grew beyond that stage.
+
+But _torso_ as it is, its influence has been far spreading. The science
+of aesthetics was in its infancy when Lessing wrote. Pedantic and
+conventional rules were laid down regarding beauty, and the greatest
+confusion of ideas existed concerning the provinces and limits of the
+respective arts. Poetry and painting were treated as arts identical in
+purpose and scope; indeed each was advised to borrow aid from the
+resources of the other. Simonides' dictum that "Painting is silent
+poetry, and poetry eloquent painting," was regarded as an
+incontrovertible axiom. Winckelmann's lately published 'History of Art'
+had supported this view of the matter; a point of view that encouraged
+allegorical painting and didactic poetry. The 'Laokoon' strove to
+expose the radical error of this idea, as its second title, 'or the
+boundaries of Poetry and Painting,' proves. The conclusions established
+by the 'Laokoon' have become to-day the very groundwork of cultured art
+criticism, and though the somewhat narrow scope of its aesthetic theory
+has been extended, the basis remains untouched and unshaken. The book
+is of as much value now as upon its first appearance. Its luminous
+distinctions, its suggestive utterances, point the way to exact truth,
+even where they do not define it. Like the celebrated Torso of the
+Vatican, it can be made an object of constant study, and every fresh
+investigation will reveal new beauties, new subtle traits of artistic
+comprehension hitherto overlooked.
+
+This work, so grand and ultimately fruitful, fell, nevertheless, very
+flat on its first issue, and only gradually assumed the position that
+was its due. It had indeed to educate its public, so new were the
+principles it enunciated. Three years after its publication, Lessing
+told a friend that hardly any one seemed to know at what goal he had
+aimed in his 'Laokoon.' Critics arose in plenty, but their criticism
+was of such a character that Lessing, usually so combative, did not
+hold them worthy of a reply. Little wonder, therefore, that even the
+discerning Frederick did not recognise the value of its author, and
+finally decided against Lessing's appointment as royal librarian.
+
+In November 1766 Lessing describes himself as standing idly in the
+market-place waiting for hire. He was discontented with his
+surroundings, eager to find himself in a wider and more congenial
+mental atmosphere than that of Berlin, uncertain whither to turn, and
+hampered by money difficulties, private debts and family demands. At
+this juncture an invitation from Hamburg reached him, which at the
+first aspect seemed to open out a future peculiarly suited to Lessing's
+tastes and idiosyncrasies. An association of rich burghers had
+conceived the idea of founding a national theatre, which, liberally
+endowed, and thus removed from the region of pecuniary speculation,
+could devote itself exclusively to the cultivation of high art, and
+thus raise the national standard of taste. A dramatic critic and
+adviser was to belong to the establishment, and this post was offered
+to Lessing with a salary of 800 thalers. He accepted with alacrity, and
+repaired to Hamburg in the confidence of having at last found a niche
+well suited to his capacity. At the worst, he had nothing to lose and
+everything to gain by this step, and he gladly turned his back on
+Berlin, now distasteful to him. He hoped to throw himself once more
+into dramatic labours, and to find himself in contact with the living
+stage. Only too speedily his hopes were destined to disappointment. He
+had not been long at Hamburg before, notwithstanding all his power of
+illusion, he could not disguise from himself the fact that the project
+that sounded so noble and disinterested really rested on no higher
+basis than that of miserable stage cabals.
+
+Before issuing the first number of his paper, the 'Hamburger
+Dramaturgie,' a critical journal, which was to accompany the art of the
+author and actor throughout the representations, he already knew that
+the project begun with such high hopes must end in a miserable
+_fiasco_. Still he set to work upon his journal undauntedly, determined
+that it should, as far as it lay in his power, serve the purposes of
+the drama and instruct the populace as to the full import and aim of
+this noble art. The paper was a weekly one, the criticisms, therefore,
+had the merit of being thoroughly thought out and digested, not written
+like our modern theatrical criticisms under the very glare of the
+foot-lights. Lessing analysed the plays and their performance; he
+pointed out not only where, but why actors had erred; his sure
+perception and accurate knowledge of stage routine made him an
+invaluable guide to the performers. His criticisms, had they been
+continued, would have laid the basis of a science of histrionics, but
+unhappily for the world, the wretched vanity of the _artistes_, some of
+whom he had ventured gently to condemn, caused him to desist from this
+portion of his criticism. He confined himself solely to the play
+performed. After a while, however, even this did not suffice; bad
+management, stage cabals, private jealousy, and clerical intrigues, had
+undermined the slender popularity of the theatre. Before the end of its
+first year, the house saw itself forced to close its doors, thanks to
+creditors and to the rival and superior attractions of a company of
+French comedians. It is true the German troupe returned in the spring
+to make a final effort, but this also proved a failure; the debts were
+only increased, and the throng of creditors who besieged the box-office
+was so great that the public could not have entered if it had tried. In
+November (1768) the theatre finally closed its doors.
+
+_Transeat cum caeteris erroribus_, was Lessing's comment on the event.
+He was the poorer by another hope, and not only poorer in spirit but in
+fact. The promised salary had not been paid, the sale of his rich
+library would not suffice for his debts and needs, and he had moreover
+hampered himself with a printing-press that only helped yet more to
+cripple his means. His position was a sorry one. Literary work was once
+more his only resource. It happened that he had from the first been in
+arrears with his journal, first advisedly, then from a tendency to
+procrastination that befell him whenever the first white heat of
+interest had been expended. He now determined to continue it, employing
+it as a vehicle for his own opinions under the cover of criticisms of
+the national theatre, which he still hoped against hope might not be
+utterly defunct.
+
+The 'Dramaturgy' is the permanent result of this shipwrecked
+undertaking, itself a fragment--for after a while Lessing wearied of
+it, and piratical reprints robbed him of the slender profit--but a
+fragment like the 'Laokoon,' full of suggestive truths and flashes of
+elucidation. As an entire work it is not as homogeneous in design as
+the 'Laokoon'; no connected or definite thread of reasoning pervades
+it, its perusal requires more independent thought from the reader, who
+must form his own conclusions, they are not worked out before him as in
+the 'Laokoon.' But in its ultimate results it is no less valuable, and
+has been no less effective. It freed the German stage from bondage to
+French pseudo-classicisms by its scornful exposure of the perversions
+practised by the Gallic authors under the cloak of Aristotelian laws.
+Lessing showed the divergence between real and absolute, and fanciful
+and perverted rules. He pointed out how the three unities insisted on
+by the French had been often violated by them in the spirit if not in
+the letter. He demonstrated the real meaning of Aristotle; and enabled,
+by his exact classical knowledge, to place himself on the actual
+stand-point of the ancients, he exposed the meretricious imitations of
+the French, that had been too long passed off as genuine. He referred
+the Germans to Shakespeare as a far truer follower of Sophocles than
+Voltaire or Corneille, and he illustrated his conclusions by excerpts
+and digressions remote from the subject presumed to be under treatment,
+and which had first started this train of thought. Until now the French
+had prescribed the sole standard of good taste. Lessing wished to
+destroy this unthinking veneration, and lead his nation back to the
+true sources of inspiration, and he fought with an iconoclastic zeal
+against all distortions, and all confusions of aesthetic boundaries. In
+a measure, indeed, the 'Dramaturgy' supplements the 'Laokoon', for in
+the latter work Lessing had distinctly referred to the drama as the
+highest expression of poetry, and he had placed poetry above the arts
+of design in its results and capacities. Once more he displays his
+subtlety in discriminating between the various constituents of the
+complex feelings produced by art, and his rare faculty of combining
+aesthetic sensibility with logical criticism constitutes one of his
+grand claims to originality. The 'Dramaturgy' must be regarded rather
+as a collection of [Greek: epea pteroenta], than a systematic book.
+This remark applies, indeed, to all Lessing's prose writings.
+
+The 'Dramaturgy' was not the only work that occupied Lessing at
+Hamburg. A certain Professor Klotz had been for some time past
+attacking Lessing's writings, and had done this in a spirit of arrogant
+superiority that roused his ire. A remark that Lessing had been guilty
+of "an unpardonable fault," in an archaeological matter, wherein Klotz
+himself was plainly in error, brought matters to a crisis, and drew
+down on Klotz a series of 'Letters treating of Antiquarian Subjects,'
+that utterly demolished both the man and his conclusions. A private
+feud gave occasion to this publication, but, like all that Lessing
+wrote, it is full of matter of permanent worth. Cameos and engraved
+gems form the ground-work of the controversy that was waged fast and
+furiously for some months, until at last Lessing silenced his
+adversary. The archaeological studies that it necessitated had awakened
+afresh Lessing's artistic interests and provoked the charming little
+essay, 'How the Ancients represented Death,' that starting as a polemic
+against Klotz, ended in becoming a finished and exquisite whole.
+
+About this time (1772) Lessing received encouragement from Vienna to
+settle in the Austrian dominions, but as the offers concerned the
+theatre he declined compliance, still feeling sore from his late
+experiences. The old desire to visit Italy was once more uppermost, his
+restless activity had exhausted the slender intellectual resources of
+Hamburg. But he was once more hampered by money difficulties. He
+vacillated for a while between remaining and leaving, and finally
+accepted an appointment at the Brunswick Court as librarian of the
+Wolfenbuettel Library, with the proviso that this appointment should not
+permanently interfere with his projected Italian journey. His salary
+was to be 600 thalers, with an official residence; his duties were
+undefined. The Duke, who recognised Lessing's eminence, wished to
+attach him to his Court, and desired that Lessing should use the
+library for his personal convenience rather than as its custodian. The
+post promised well, though Lessing entered on it with reluctance; his
+love of freedom causing him at any time to shrink from any definite
+appointment. He loved, as he himself expressed it, to be like the
+sparrow on the housetops, but considerations hitherto unknown
+contributed to induce him to seek a settled post and establish his
+affairs on a more permanent basis than heretofore. The wish to marry
+had become awakened in him at the mature age of forty; he had made the
+acquaintance in Hamburg of a Madame Koenig, a widow, the first woman
+who had seriously roused his interest. Business complications of her
+late husband's and the charge of a family made union impossible for
+some little time, but Lessing had not been long at Wolfenbuettel before
+a formal engagement was entered upon whose ultimate fulfilment it was
+confidently expected would not be too long deferred. It was deferred,
+however, for the space of six years--years that were the weariest and
+saddest in Lessing's life, and mark the only time when his healthful
+optimism, his sanguine cheerfulness broke into complaint and yielded to
+depression of mind. Physical causes were at work as well as mental.
+Wolfenbuettel was an old deserted capital, devoid of society, and
+Lessing, who loved to mingle with his fellow-creatures, saw himself
+banished from any intelligent human intercourse, unless he undertook
+the somewhat expensive journey to Brunswick. At Hamburg he had lived in
+an active and intellectual circle; here he found himself thrown back
+upon himself and books. His heart and thoughts were with Madame Koenig,
+her business affairs went badly; their rare meetings only further
+strengthened his desire to claim as his own this the only woman who
+understood him and felt with him. The promised leave of absence, too,
+for Italy, was constantly deferred under futile pretexts, and thus
+depressed, dispirited, Lessing could not feel within himself the
+capability of original production. At the same time he did not feel it
+right or wise to neglect the resources placed within his reach by the
+excellent library of which he was custodian; he ransacked its
+manuscript treasures, and published some of them. He also in a brief
+period of renewed happiness and mental vigour, that followed a visit to
+Hamburg and a meeting with Madame Koenig, wrote his famous tragedy
+'Emilia Galotti.'
+
+This drama is an illustration of the principles enunciated by Lessing
+in his 'Dramaturgy;' its condensation is a protest against the
+verbosity of the French, its form an approach to Shakespeare; while its
+tendency is a stricture on the abuses practised at petty Courts. The
+latter was a bold innovation, considering that at the time Lessing
+wrote and produced this play he was himself the servant of a Court,
+enlightened and liberal it is true, but libertine and despotic; and
+that parallels could not fail to be drawn by the malevolent between
+Brunswick and Guastalla. The story is a modernised version of that of
+Virginia, but the catastrophe is not equally harmonious, because not so
+absolutely necessitated by the conditions of modern society as by those
+of the ancient world. Still the play is in many respects inimitable;
+the manner in which the story is developed and unravelled renders it a
+model to young dramatists; nothing superfluous, nothing obscure, no
+needless retrogressions, no violent transitions. Lessing's
+contemporaries were not slow to recognise that he had presented them
+with a master-piece. He himself after its completion had sunk back into
+his former mood of irritated depression, and he would not even be
+present at the first representation. This mood was in great part
+physical, but was also the result of circumstances. He was anxious and
+uneasy. The hereditary prince had held out hopes to him, but their
+fulfilment was too long deferred; Madame Koenig's affairs grew more and
+more involved, the solitude of Wolfenbuettel more and more arid.
+
+At last his restless spirit could brook this position no longer.
+Heedless of Madame Koenig's warning prayers not to bring matters to an
+abrupt crisis, to have patience with the Court whose financial position
+at the time was truly a sorry one, Lessing one day broke away from
+Wolfenbuettel and appeared at Berlin, whence he applied for an extended
+leave of absence to Vienna, where Madame Koenig's business had lately
+required her presence. He reassures her that he has not burnt his ships
+behind him, and this was true, but he wished to ascertain for himself
+how matters stood with her, and also if there was, any opening for him
+in that capital. He arrived at Vienna in March 1775, and found Madame
+Koenig's affairs so far advanced towards settlement as to justify him
+in entertaining hopes of a speedy union.
+
+But the evil fortune that seemed to run like a fatal thread through
+Lessing's life whenever he found himself near the fulfilment of an
+ardent desire again asserted itself. He had not been ten days in Vienna
+before one of the younger princes of the house of Brunswick arrived
+there also on his way to Italy. He wished to have Lessing as his
+travelling companion. Thus a long cherished desire was to be realised
+at the moment when a far stronger one had usurped its place. Lessing
+debated for some time what he should do, but on consideration with
+Madame Koenig, it was decided to be unwise to offend the prince whose
+earnest wish for Lessing's companionship was supported by the Empress
+Maria Theresa, and moreover the projected journey was only to extend
+over eight weeks; consequently the parting and delay would be brief,
+while the ultimate consequences of having obliged the ducal house at
+personal inconvenience might be incalculable. The journey extended to
+nine months, and was a period of misery to Lessing. He never received a
+line from Madame Koenig all this time, her letters having all
+miscarried, thanks to the officious zeal of her Vienna acquaintances,
+and he tortured himself with fears lest she were ill or dead. Neither
+did he write to her, nor keep a diary, beyond the very briefest records
+of some discoveries in libraries. Not a word about the art, the scenery
+of the land he had so craved to see. He perceived quickly enough that
+it could offer all, and more than he had anticipated, but, added to his
+private anxieties, this travelling in the suite of a prince was not
+propitious to the proper enjoyment of Italy. Receptions, formal
+dinners, deputations, at all of which Lessing had to be present,
+engrossed the precious time that should have been devoted to more
+intellectual pursuits.
+
+_Transeat cum caeteris erroribus_, Lessing might again have written when
+he returned to Germany in December. He hastened to Vienna to learn news
+of his beloved, and there a whole packet of her letters were put into
+his hands--those letters the want of which had preyed upon his heart.
+He was now more fully determined than ever to bring matters to a
+crisis; if the Brunswick Court would not improve his position he would
+seek employment elsewhere; at the very worst he could not fare worse
+than he was at present faring. His resolution triumphed, his salary was
+raised, his position improved, and on the 8th of October, 1776, he was
+at last united to the woman of his choice.
+
+Then followed a very heyday of happiness to Lessing; he was at last
+content, at peace; his wife understood him and felt with him; she was
+his stay, his pride, his joy. But once more the evil fate was at work,
+and could not permit of ease to this poor victim she pursued so
+relentlessly. Early in January (1778) Lessing saw his wife and baby boy
+laid in the grave. The brief sunshine which had illumined his path had
+vanished for ever.
+
+The letters written by him at the time are more pathetic in their stoic
+brevity than folios of lamentations. There were no further hopes of
+happiness for him on earth; he must just resign himself and work on at
+his appointed labour until he too should be laid to rest. He turned
+with an ardour that was almost furious to encounter the assailants of
+his last literary publication. Since his appointment as Wolfenbuettel
+librarian Lessing had from time to time published some of its
+manuscript treasures, and among these he had inserted portions of a
+work that had been intrusted to him, and which he deemed ought not to
+be withheld from the light of day. These were the famous Wolfenbuettel
+Fragments issued anonymously by Lessing, but really the work of a
+deceased Hamburger, Professor Reimarus. Their publication drew down
+upon Lessing a fury of rancorous abuse, and involved him in a vortex of
+controversy that lasted till his death. The chief and most vehement of
+his opponents was Pastor J. M. Goeze, whose insulting polemic reached
+him by the bedside of his dying wife. Its malignant and unjustified
+attacks roused Lessing's energy. He assailed Goeze with all the
+strength of his grief, for which he was thankful to find a safety-valve
+in controversy. The work of Reimarus had advocated rationalism; Lessing
+had distinctly placed himself in position of editor, and pronounced
+that he did not of necessity subscribe to the opinions therein
+enunciated, but he found in their reasoning much food for thought, and
+with his almost romantic passion for truth he deemed that such matter
+should not be withheld from the world. Goeze chose to consider that
+Lessing was sailing under false colours, that the fragments were his
+own composition, and that he was undermining the national faith.
+Lessing replied to Goeze's insults by a series of fourteen letters,
+entitled 'Anti-Goeze,' which actually silenced his opponent, who had
+never been known before to allow an adversary the last word. They are
+written in a serio-comic tone, and for sparkling wit, trenchant
+sarcasm, and dramatic dialectics surpass anything ever penned by
+Lessing. No less admirable is his accurate theological knowledge and
+his large-minded comprehension of the purposes of religion.
+
+The same noble spirit pervades his 'Nathan the Wise,' which he wrote
+about this time as a relief to his controversial discussions, and as
+another protest against the narrow-minded assumptions of the
+professional theologians. Lessing had ever contended that the stage
+might prove as useful a pulpit as the church, and in 'Nathan' he strove
+to preach the universal brotherhood of mankind; its hero is a Jew of
+ideal and pure morality. The whole purpose of the drama was a stricture
+on class prejudices and an enunciation of the innate truth that
+underlies all forms of creeds. The play is too well known even in this
+country to require much comment; it is a noble monument of toleration
+and large-mindedness, and the fact that he could produce it under the
+load of a crushing sorrow speaks volumes for the true earnest religious
+faith that dwelt in Lessing's nature. At the time its pure tendencies
+were not understood. Lessing had progressed beyond the comprehension of
+his age, and the inevitable consequences ensued,--misconstruction and
+mental loneliness. He began to be regarded with suspicion as a
+dangerous innovator; even old friends held aloof in doubt. Meanwhile
+his only comfort remained in his home, in the step-children, whom his
+wife had brought thither. His step-daughter was his tender and
+attentive companion, for since his wife's death Lessing's health had
+declined, and he required care. Though no trace of impaired vigour
+appears in his writings of the period, which indeed are animated by an
+exhilarating vitality, yet too evident traces of impaired vigour
+appeared in himself. He grew languid, an excessive inclination to sleep
+overpowered him; he suffered from attacks of vertigo. Yet as long as he
+could hold a pen he should write, he told his brother,--write in the
+cause of what he firmly held to be the truth.
+
+A small pamphlet, consisting of a hundred propositions, entitled 'The
+Education of the Human Race,' was his next production, a work pregnant
+with thought that opens out wide vistas of knowledge and progress to
+mankind. Lessing indeed was the first man of his century to formulate
+the modern doctrine of progress; he preached a true millennium of
+toleration, love, and knowledge; he distinctly proclaimed his faith in
+the immortality of the soul. 'The Education of the Human Race' is a
+splendid disavowal of his enemies' calumnious assertions. It was a
+glorious swan-song, wherewith he lulled himself into eternal peace.
+
+On one of his official visits to Brunswick, Lessing was overtaken by a
+paralytic stroke. On the 15th of February, 1781, he passed away. He
+died as he lived, nobly, in a reverent assurance that he had fought a
+good fight on earth in the cause of truth and enlightenment, progress
+and humanity.
+
+Time, the true criterion of human fame, has not only left his glory
+undiminished, but has augmented it, as popular intelligence has
+gradually arisen to the comprehension of its many-sided significance.
+It will be long before we have outgrown Lessing, if indeed that time
+can ever come. And even if some things in his writings may seem narrow
+or antiquated to our vision, we may readily pass them over to arrive at
+matters eternally true, exalted, sublime. Truth was the main purpose of
+all he wrote, and truth is for all ages and all time. Lessing was one
+of the truly great ones of this earth, and petty cavillers should lay
+to heart the words of another wise man, the author of 'The Imitation:'
+
+"All perfection in this world has some imperfection coupled with it,
+and none of our investigations are without some obscurity."
+
+                                                     Helen Zimmern.
+
+
+
+
+                           MISS SARA SAMPSON.
+
+                        A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.
+
+
+Miss Sara Sampson, the first of Lessing's tragedies, was completed in
+the year 1755, while Lessing was at Potsdam. In the same year it was
+represented at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, and was very well received. It
+was afterwards translated and acted in France, where it also met with
+success.
+
+The present is the first English translation which has appeared.
+
+
+
+
+                           DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+      Sir William Sampson.
+      Miss Sara Sampson, _his daughter_.
+      Mellefont.
+      Marwood, _formerly_ Mellefont's _mistress_.
+      Arabella, _a child, daughter of_ Marwood.
+      Waitwell, _an old servant of_ Sir William.
+      Norton, _servant of_ Mellefont.
+      Betty, Sara's _maid_.
+      Hannah, Marwood's _maid_.
+      _The_ Innkeeper _and others_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                           MISS SARA SAMPSON.
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT I.
+
+
+                     Scene I.--_A room in an inn_.
+
+                     Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+   My daughter, here? Here in this wretched inn?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+No doubt, Mellefont has purposely selected the most wretched one in the
+town. The wicked always seek the darkness, because they are wicked. But
+what would it help them, could they even hide themselves from the whole
+world? Conscience after all is more powerful than the accusations of a
+world. Ah, you are weeping again, again, Sir!--Sir!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Let me weep, my honest old servant! Or does she not, do you think,
+deserve my tears?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Alas! She deserves them, were they tears of blood.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Well, let me weep!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+The best, the loveliest, the most innocent child that ever lived
+beneath the sun, must thus be led astray! Oh, my Sara, my little Sara!
+I have watched thee grow; a hundred times have I carried thee as a
+child in these arms, have I admired thy smiles, thy lispings. From
+every childish look beamed forth the dawn of an intelligence, a
+kindliness, a----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Oh, be silent! Does not the present rend my heart enough? Will you make
+my tortures more infernal still by recalling past happiness? Change
+your tone, if you will do me a service. Reproach me, make of my
+tenderness a crime, magnify my daughter's fault; fill me with
+abhorrence of her, if you can; stir up anew my revenge against her
+cursed seducer; say, that Sara never was virtuous, since she so lightly
+ceased to be so; say that she never loved me, since she clandestinely
+forsook me!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+If I said that, I should utter a lie, a shameless, wicked lie. It might
+come to me again on my death-bed, and I, old wretch, would die in
+despair. No, little Sara has loved her father; and doubtless, doubtless
+she loves him yet. If you will only be convinced of this, I shall see
+her again in your arms this very day.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Yes, Waitwell, of this alone I ask to be convinced. I cannot any longer
+live without her; she is the support of my age, and if she does not
+help to sweeten the sad remaining days of my life, who shall do it? If
+she loves me still, her error is forgotten. It was the error of a
+tender-hearted maiden, and her flight was the result of her remorse.
+Such errors are better than forced virtues. Yet I feel, Waitwell, I
+feel it, even were these errors real crimes, premeditated vices--even
+then I should forgive her. I would rather be loved by a wicked
+daughter, than by none at all.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Dry your tears, dear sir! I hear some one. It will be the landlord
+coming to welcome us.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+             _The_ Landlord, Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                                LANDLORD.
+
+So early, gentlemen, so early? You are welcome; welcome, Waitwell! You
+have doubtless been travelling all night! Is that the gentleman, of
+whom you spoke to me yesterday?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Yes, it is he, and I hope that in accordance with what we settled----
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+I am entirely at your service, my lord. What is it to me, whether I
+know or not, what cause has brought you hither, and why you wish to
+live in seclusion in my house? A landlord takes his money and lets his
+guests do as they think best. Waitwell, it is true, has told me that
+you wish to observe the stranger a little, who has been staying here
+for a few weeks with his young wife, but I hope that you will not cause
+him any annoyance. You would bring my house into ill repute and certain
+people would fear to stop here. Men like us must live on people of all
+kinds.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not fear; only conduct me to the room which Waitwell has ordered for
+me; I come here for an honourable purpose.
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+I have no wish to know your secrets, my lord! Curiosity is by no means
+a fault of mine. I might for instance have known long ago, who the
+stranger is, on whom you want to keep a watch, but I have no wish to
+know. This much however I have discovered, that he must have eloped
+with the young lady. The poor little wife--or whatever she may
+be!--remains the whole day long locked up in her room, and cries.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+And cries?
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+Yes, and cries; but, my lord, why do your tears fall? The young lady
+must interest you deeply. Surely you are not----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Do not detain him any longer!
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+Come, come! One wall only will separate you from the lady in whom you
+are so much interested, and who may be----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+You mean then at any cost to know, who----
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+No, Waitwell! I have no wish to know anything.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Make haste, then, and take us to our rooms, before the whole house
+begins to stir.
+
+                               LANDLORD.
+
+Will you please follow me, then, my lord? (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+                    Scene III.--Mellefont's _room_.
+
+                           Mellefont, Norton.
+
+       MELLEFONT (_in dressing-gown, sitting in an easy chair_).
+
+Another night, which I could not have spent more cruelly on the
+rack!--(_calls_) Norton!--I must make haste to get sight of a face or
+two. If I remained alone with my thoughts any longer, they might carry
+me too far. Hey, Norton! He is still asleep. But is not it cruel of me,
+not to let the poor devil sleep? How happy he is! However, I do not
+wish any one about me to be happy! Norton!
+
+                            NORTON (coming).
+
+Sir!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Dress me!--Oh, no sour looks please! When I shall be able to sleep
+longer myself I will let you do the same. If you wish to do your duty,
+at least have pity on me.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Pity, sir! Pity on you? I know better where pity is due.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And where then?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Ah, let me dress you and don't ask.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Confound it! Are _your_ reproofs then to awaken together with my
+conscience? I understand you; I know on whom you expend your pity. But
+I will do justice to her and to myself. Quite right, do not have any
+pity on me! Curse me in your heart; but--curse yourself also!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Myself also?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Yes, because you serve a miserable wretch, whom earth ought not to
+bear, and because you have made yourself a partaker in his crimes.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I made myself a partaker in your crimes? In what way?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+By keeping silent about them.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Well, that is good! A word would have cost me my neck in the heat of
+your passions. And, besides, did I not find you already so bad, when I
+made your acquaintance, that all hope of amendment was vain? What a
+life I have seen you leading from the first moment! In the lowest
+society of gamblers and vagrants--I call them what they were without
+regard to their knightly titles and such like--in this society you
+squandered a fortune which might have made a way for you to an
+honourable position. And your culpable intercourse with all sorts of
+women, especially with the wicked Marwood----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Restore me--restore me to that life. It was virtue compared with the
+present one. I spent my fortune; well! The punishment follows, and I
+shall soon enough feel all the severity and humiliation of want. I
+associated with vicious women; that may be. I was myself seduced more
+often than I seduced others; and those whom I did seduce wished it.
+But--I still had no ruined virtue upon my conscience. I had carried off
+no Sara from the house of a beloved father and forced her to follow a
+scoundrel, who was no longer free. I had----who comes so early to me?
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                       Betty, Mellefont, Norton.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+It is Betty.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Up already, Betty? How is your mistress?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+How is she? (_sobbing_.) It was long after midnight before I could
+persuade her to go to bed. She slept a few moments; but God, what a
+sleep that must have been! She started suddenly, sprang up and fell
+into my arms, like one pursued by a murderer. She trembled, and a cold
+perspiration started on her pale face. I did all I could to calm her,
+but up to this morning she has only answered me with silent tears. At
+length she sent me several times to your door to listen whether you
+were up. She wishes to speak to you. You alone can comfort her. O do
+so, dearest sir, do so! My heart will break, if she continues to fret
+like this.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Go, Betty! Tell her, I shall be with her in a moment,
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+No, she wishes to come to you herself.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Well, tell her, then, that I am awaiting her----
+
+                                                    (_Exit_ Betty.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                           Mellefont, Norton.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+O God, the poor young lady!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Whose feelings is this exclamation of yours meant to rouse? See, the
+first tear which I have shed since my childhood is running down my
+cheek. A bad preparation for receiving one who seeks comfort. But why
+does she seek it from me? Yet where else shall she seek it? I must
+collect myself (_drying his eyes_). Where is the old firmness with
+which I could see a beautiful eye in tears? Where is the gift of
+dissimulation gone by which I could be and could say whatsoever I
+wished? She will come now and weep tears that brook no resistance.
+Confused and ashamed I shall stand before her; like a convicted
+criminal I shall stand before her. Counsel me, what shall I do? What
+shall I say?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+You shall do what she asks of you!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I shall then perpetrate a fresh act of cruelty against her. She is
+wrong to blame me for delaying a ceremony which cannot be performed in
+this country without the greatest injury to us.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Well, leave it, then. Why do we delay? Why do you let one day after the
+other pass, and one week after the other? Just give me the order, and
+you will be safe on board to-morrow! Perhaps her grief will not follow
+her over the ocean; she may leave part of it behind, and in another
+land may----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I hope that myself. Silence! She is coming! How my heart throbs!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                        Sara, Mellefont, Norton.
+
+                  MELLEFONT (_advancing towards her_).
+
+You have had a restless night, dearest Sara.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Alas, Mellefont, if it were nothing but a restless night.
+
+                     MELLEFONT (_to his servant_).
+
+Leave us!
+
+                      NORTON (_aside, in going_).
+
+I would not stay if I was paid in gold for every moment.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Sara, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are faint, dearest Sara! You must sit down!
+
+                          SARA (_sits down_).
+
+I trouble you very early! Will you forgive me that with the morning I
+again begin my complaints?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Dearest Sara, you mean to say that you cannot forgive me, because
+another morning has dawned, and I have not yet put an end to your
+complaints?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What is there that I would not forgive you? You know what I have
+already forgiven you. But the ninth week, Mellefont! the ninth week
+begins to-day, and this miserable house still sees me in just the same
+position as on the first day.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You doubt my love?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I doubt your love? No, I feel my misery too much, too much to wish to
+deprive myself of this last and only solace.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How, then, can you be uneasy about the delay of a ceremony?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah, Mellefont! Why is it that we think so differently about this
+ceremony! Yield a little to the woman's way of thinking! I imagine in
+it a more direct consent from Heaven. In vain did I try again, only
+yesterday, in the long tedious evening, to adopt your ideas, and to
+banish from my breast the doubt which just now--not for the first time,
+you have deemed the result of my distrust. I struggled with myself; I
+was clever enough to deafen my understanding; but my heart and my
+feeling quickly overthrew this toilsome structure of reason.
+Reproachful voices roused me from my sleep, and my imagination united
+with them to torment me. What pictures, what dreadful pictures hovered
+about me! I would willingly believe them to be dreams----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What? Could my sensible Sara believe them to be anything else? Dreams,
+my dearest, dreams!--How unhappy is man!--Did not his Creator find
+tortures enough for him in the realm of reality? Had he also to create
+in him the still more spacious realm of imagination in order to
+increase them?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not accuse Heaven! It has left the imagination in our power. She is
+guided by our acts; and when these are in accordance with our duties
+and with virtue the imagination serves only to increase our peace and
+happiness. A single act, Mellefont, a single blessing bestowed upon us
+by a messenger of peace, in the name of the Eternal One, can restore my
+shattered imagination again. Do you still hesitate to do a few days
+sooner for love of me, what in any case you mean to do at some future
+time? Have pity on me, and consider that, although by this you may be
+freeing me only from torments of the imagination, yet these imagined
+torments are torments, and are real torments for her who feels them.
+Ah! could I but tell you the terrors of the last night half as vividly
+as I have felt them. Wearied with crying and grieving--my only
+occupations--I sank down on my bed with half-closed eyes. Sly nature
+wished to recover itself a moment, to collect new tears. But hardly
+asleep yet, I suddenly saw myself on the steepest peak of a terrible
+rock. You went on before, and I followed with tottering, anxious steps,
+strengthened now and then by a glance which you threw back upon me.
+Suddenly I heard behind me a gentle call, which bade me stop. It was my
+father's voice--I unhappy one, can I forget nothing which is his? Alas
+if his memory renders him equally cruel service; if he too cannot
+forget me!--But he has forgotten me. Comfort! cruel comfort for his
+Sara!--But, listen, Mellefont! In turning round to this well-known
+voice, my foot slipped; I reeled, and was on the point of falling down
+the precipice, when just in time, I felt myself held back by one who
+resembled myself. I was just returning her my passionate thanks, when
+she drew a dagger from her bosom. "I saved you," she cried, "to ruin
+you!" She lifted her armed hand--and--! I awoke with the blow. Awake, I
+still felt all the pain which a mortal stab must give, without the
+pleasure which it brings--the hope for the end of grief in the end of
+life.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah! dearest Sara, I promise you the end of your grief, without the end
+of your life, which would certainly be the end of mine also. Forget the
+terrible tissue of a meaningless dream!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I look to you for the strength to be able to forget it. Be it love or
+seduction, happiness or unhappiness which threw me into your arms, I am
+yours in my heart and will remain so for ever. But I am not yet yours
+in the eyes of that Judge, who has threatened to punish the smallest
+transgressions of His law----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Then may all the punishment fall upon me alone!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What can fall upon you, without touching me too? But do not
+misinterpret my urgent request! Another woman, after having forfeited
+her honour by an error like mine, might perhaps only seek to regain a
+part of it by a legal union. I do not think of that, Mellefont, because
+I do not wish to know of any other honour in this world than that of
+loving you. I do not wish to be united to you for the world's sake but
+for my own. And I will willingly bear the shame of not appearing to be
+so, when I am united to you. You need not then, if you do not wish,
+acknowledge me to be your wife, you may call me what you will! I will
+not bear your name; you shall keep our union as secret as you think
+good, and may I always be unworthy of it, if I ever harbour the thought
+of drawing any other advantage from it than the appeasing of my
+conscience.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Stop, Sara, or I shall die before your eyes. How wretched I am, that I
+have not the courage to make you more wretched still! Consider that you
+have given yourself up to my guidance; consider that it is my duty to
+look to our future, and that I must at present be deaf to your
+complaints, if I will not hear you utter more grievous complaints
+throughout the rest of your life. Have you then forgotten what I have
+so often represented to you in justification of my conduct?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I have not forgotten it, Mellefont! You wish first to secure a certain
+bequest. You wish first to secure temporal goods, and you let me
+forfeit eternal ones, perhaps, through it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara! If you were as certain of all temporal goods as your virtue
+is of the eternal ones----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+My virtue? Do not say that word! Once it sounded sweet to me, but now a
+terrible thunder rolls in it!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What? Must he who is to be virtuous, never have committed a trespass?
+Has a single error such fatal effect that it can annihilate a whole
+course of blameless years? If so, no one is virtuous; virtue is then a
+chimera, which disperses in the air, when one thinks that one grasps it
+most firmly; if so, there is no Wise Being who suits our duties to
+our strength; if so, there is----I am frightened at the terrible
+conclusions in which your despondency must involve you. No, Sara, you
+are still the virtuous Sara that you were before your unfortunate
+acquaintance with me. If you look upon yourself with such cruel eyes,
+with what eyes must you regard me!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+With the eyes of love, Mellefont!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I implore you, then, on my knees I implore you for the sake of this
+love, this generous love which overlooks all my unworthiness, to calm
+yourself! Have patience for a few days longer!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+A few days! How long even a single day is!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Cursed bequest! Cursed nonsense of a dying cousin, who would only leave
+me his fortune on the condition that I should give my hand to a
+relation who hates me as much as I hate her! To you, inhuman tyrants of
+our freedom, be imputed all the misfortune, all the sin, into which
+your compulsion forces us. Could I but dispense with this degrading
+inheritance. As long as my father's fortune sufficed for my
+maintenance, I always scorned it, and did not even think it worthy of
+mentioning. But now, now, when I should like to possess all the
+treasures of the world only to lay them at the feet of my Sara, now,
+when I must contrive at least to let her appear in the world as befits
+her station, now I must have recourse to it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Which probably will not be successful after all.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You always forbode the worst. No, the lady whom this also concerns is
+not disinclined to enter into a sort of agreement with me. The fortune
+is to be divided, and as she cannot enjoy the whole with me, she is
+willing to let me buy my liberty with half of it. I am every hour
+expecting the final intelligence, the delay of which alone has so
+prolonged our sojourn here. As soon as I receive it, we shall not
+remain here one moment longer. We will immediately cross to France,
+dearest Sara, where you shall find new friends, who already look
+forward to the pleasure of seeing and loving you. And these new friends
+shall be the witnesses of our union----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+They shall be the witnesses of our union? Cruel man, our union, then,
+is not to be in my native land? I shall leave my country as a criminal?
+And as such, you think, I should have the courage to trust myself to
+the ocean. The heart of him must be calmer or more impious than mine,
+who, only for a moment, can see with indifference between himself and
+destruction, nothing but a quivering plank. Death would roar at me in
+every wave that struck against the vessel, every wind would howl its
+curses after me from my native shore, and the slightest storm would
+seem a sentence of death pronounced upon me. No, Mellefont, you cannot
+be so cruel to me! If I live to see the completion of this agreement,
+you must not grudge another day, to be spent here. This must be the
+day, on which you shall teach me to forget the tortures of all these
+tearful days. This must be the sacred day--alas! which day will it be?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But do you consider, Sara, that our marriage here would lack those
+ceremonies which are due to it?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+A sacred act does not acquire more force through ceremonies.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I am astonished. You surely will not insist on such a trivial pretext?
+O Mellefont, Mellefont! had I not made for myself an inviolable
+law, never to doubt the sincerity of your love, this circumstance
+might----But too much of this already, it might seem as if I had been
+doubting it even now.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The first moment of your doubt would be the last moment of my life!
+Alas, Sara, what have I done, that you should remind me even of the
+possibility of it? It is true the confessions, which I have made to you
+without fear, of my early excesses cannot do me honour, but they should
+at least awaken confidence. A coquettish Marwood held me in her meshes,
+because I felt for her that which is so often taken for love which it
+so rarely is. I should still bear her shameful fetters, had not Heaven,
+which perhaps did not think my heart quite unworthy to bum with better
+flames, taken pity on me. To see you, dearest Sara, was to forget all
+Marwoods! But how dearly have you paid for taking me out of such hands!
+I had grown too familiar with vice, and you know it too little----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let us think no more of it.
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                        Norton, Mellefont, Sara.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What do you want?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+While I was standing before the house, a servant gave me this letter.
+It is directed to you, sir!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+To me? Who knows my name here? (_looking at the letter_). Good heavens!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You are startled.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But without cause, Sara, as I now perceive. I was mistaken in the
+handwriting.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+May the contents be as agreeable to you as you can wish.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I suspect that they will be of very little importance.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+One is less constrained when one is alone, so allow me to retire to my
+room again.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You entertain suspicions, then, about it?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Not at all, Mellefont.
+
+      MELLEFONT (_going with her to the back of the stage_).
+
+I shall be with you in a moment, dearest Sara.
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                           Mellefont, Norton.
+
+               MELLEFONT (_still looking at the letter_).
+
+Just Heaven!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Woe to you, if it is only just!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Is it possible? I see this cursed handwriting again and am not chilled
+with terror? Is it she? Is it not she? Why do I still doubt? It is she!
+Alas, friend, a letter from Marwood! What fury, what demon has betrayed
+my abode to her? What does she still want from me? Go, make
+preparations immediately that we may get away from here. Yet stop!
+Perhaps it is unnecessary; perhaps the contempt of my farewell letters
+has only caused Marwood to reply with equal contempt. There, open the
+letter; read it! I am afraid to do it myself.
+
+
+                           NORTON (_reads_).
+
+"If you will deign, Mellefont, to glance at the name which you will
+find at the bottom of the page, it will be to me as though I had
+written you the longest of letters."
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Curse the name! Would I had never heard it! Would it could be erased
+from the book of the living!
+
+                          NORTON (_reads on_).
+
+"The labour of finding you out has been sweetened by the love which
+helped me in my search."
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Love? Wanton creature! You profane the words which belong to virtue
+alone.
+
+                         NORTON (_continues_).
+
+"Love has done more still"----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I tremble----
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+"It has brought me to you"----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Traitor, what are you reading? (_snatches the letter from his hand and
+reads himself_). "I am here; and it rests with you, whether you will
+await a visit from me, or whether you will anticipate mine by one from
+you. Marwood." What a thunderbolt! She is here! Where is she? She
+shall atone for this audacity with her life!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+With her life? One glance from her and you will be again at her feet.
+Take care what you do! You must not speak with her, or the misfortunes
+of your poor young lady will be complete.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+O, wretched man that I am! No, I must speak with her! She would go even
+into Sara's room in search of me, and would vent all her rage on the
+innocent girl.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+But, sir----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Not a word! Let me see (_looking at the letter_) whether she has given
+the address. Here it is! Come, show me the way! (_Exeunt_).
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT II.
+
+               Scene I.--Marwood's _room in another inn_.
+
+                    Marwood (_in negligee_), Hannah.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I hope Belfort has delivered the letter at the right address, Hannah?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+He has.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+To him himself?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+To his servant.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am all impatience to see what effect it will have. Do I not seem a
+little uneasy to you, Hannah? And I am so. The traitor! But gently! I
+must not on any account give way to anger. Forbearance, love, entreaty
+are the only weapons which I can use against him, if I rightly
+understand his weak side.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+But if he should harden himself against them?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If he should harden himself against them? Then I shall not be angry. I
+shall rave! I feel it, Hannah, and I would rather do so to begin with.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Calm yourself! He may come at any moment.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I only hope he may come; I only hope he has not decided to await me on
+his own ground. But do you know, Hannah, on what I chiefly found my
+hopes of drawing away the faithless man from this new object of his
+love? On our Bella!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+It is true, she is a little idol to him; and there could not have been
+a happier idea than that of bringing her with you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Even if his heart should be deaf to an old love, the language of blood
+will at least be audible to him. He tore the child from my arms a short
+time ago under the pretext of wishing to give her an education such as
+she could not have with me. It is only by an artifice that I have been
+able to get her again from the lady who had charge of her. He had paid
+more than a year in advance, and had given strict orders the very day
+before his flight that they should by no means give admission to a
+certain Marwood, who would perhaps come and give herself out as mother
+of the child. From this order I see the distinction which he draws
+between us. He regards Arabella as a precious portion of himself, and
+me as an unfortunate creature, of whose charms he has grown weary.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+What ingratitude!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ah, Hannah! Nothing more infallibly draws down ingratitude, than
+favours for which no gratitude would be too great. Why have I shown him
+these fatal favours? Ought I not to have foreseen that they could not
+always retain their value with him; that their value rested on the
+difficulty in the way of their enjoyment, and that the latter must
+disappear with the charm of our looks which the hand of time
+imperceptibly but surely effaces?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+You, Madam, have not anything to fear for a long time from this
+dangerous hand! To my mind your beauty is so far from having passed the
+point of its brightest bloom, that it is rather advancing towards it,
+and would enchain fresh hearts for you every day if you only would give
+it the permission.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Be silent, Hannah! You flatter me on an occasion which makes me
+suspicious of any flattery. It is nonsense to speak of new conquests,
+if one has not even sufficient power to retain possession of those
+which one has already made.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                      A Servant, Marwood, Hannah.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+Some one wishes to have the honour of speaking with you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Who is it?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+I suppose it is the gentleman to whom the letter was addressed. At
+least the servant to whom I delivered it is with him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont!--Quick, bring him up! (_Exit_ Servant.) Ah, Hannah! He is
+here now! How shall I receive him? What shall I say? What look shall I
+put on? Is this calm enough? Just see!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Anything but calm.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+This, then?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Throw a little sweetness into it.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+So, perhaps?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Too sad.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Would this smile do?
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Perfectly--only less constrained--He is coming.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                      Mellefont, Marwood, Hannah.
+
+               MELLEFONT (_entering with wild gestures_).
+
+Ha! Marwood----
+
+      MARWOOD (_running to meet him smiling, and with open arms_).
+
+Ah, Mellefont!
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+The murderess! What a look!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I must embrace you, faithless, dear fugitive! Share my joy with me! Why
+do you tear yourself from my caresses!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I expected, Marwood, that you would receive me differently.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Why differently? With more love, perhaps? With more delight? Alas, how
+unhappy I am, that I cannot express all that I feel! Do you not see,
+Mellefont, do you not see that joy, too, has its tears? Here they fall,
+the offspring of sweetest delight! But alas, vain tears! His hand does
+not dry you!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood, the time is gone, when such words would have charmed me. You
+must speak now with me in another tone. I come to hear your last
+reproaches and to answer them.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Reproaches? What reproaches should I have for you, Mellefont? None!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Then you might have spared yourself the journey, I should think.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Dearest, capricious heart. Why will you forcibly compel me to recall a
+trifle which I forgave you the same moment I heard of it? Does a
+passing infidelity which your gallantry, but not your heart, has
+caused, deserve these reproaches? Come, let us laugh at it!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are mistaken; my heart is more concerned in it, than it ever was in
+all our love affairs, upon which I cannot now look back but with
+disgust.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Your heart, Mellefont, is a good little fool. It lets your imagination
+persuade it to whatever it will. Believe me, I know it better than you
+do yourself! Were it not the best, the most faithful of hearts, should
+I take such pains to keep it?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+To keep it? You have never possessed it, I tell you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And I tell you, that in reality I possess it still!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood! if I knew that you still possessed one single fibre of it, I
+would tear it out of my breast here before your eyes.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You would see that you were tearing mine out at the same time. And
+then, then these hearts would at last attain that union which they have
+sought so often upon our lips.
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+What a serpent! Flight will be the best thing here.--Just tell me
+briefly, Marwood, why you have followed me, and what you still desire
+of me! But tell it me without this smile, without this look, in which a
+whole' hell of seduction lurks and terrifies me.
+
+                       MARWOOD (_insinuatingly_).
+
+Just listen, my dear Mellefont! I see your position now. Your desires
+and your taste are at present your tyrants. Never mind, one must let
+them wear themselves out. It is folly to resist them. They are most
+safely lulled to sleep, and at last even conquered, by giving them free
+scope. They wear themselves away. Can you accuse me, my fickle friend,
+of ever having been jealous, when more powerful charms than mine
+estranged you from me for a time? I never grudged you the change, by
+which I always won more than I lost. You returned with new ardour, with
+new passion to my arms, in which with light bonds, and never with heavy
+fetters I encompassed you. Have I not often even been your confidante
+though you had nothing to confide but the favours which you stole from
+me, in order to lavish them on others. Why should you believe then,
+that I would now begin to display a capriciousness just when I am
+ceasing, or, perhaps have already ceased, to be justified in it. If
+your ardour for the pretty country girl has not yet cooled down, if you
+are still in the first fever of your love for her; if you cannot yet do
+without the enjoyment she gives you; who hinders you from devoting
+yourself to her, as long as you think good? But must you on that
+account make such rash projects, and purpose to fly from the country
+with her?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood! You speak in perfect keeping with your character, the
+wickedness of which I never understood so well as I do now, since, in
+the society of a virtuous woman, I have learned to distinguish love
+from licentiousness.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Indeed! Your new mistress is then a girl of fine moral sentiments, I
+suppose? You men surely cannot know yourselves what you want. At one
+time you are pleased with the most wanton talk and the most unchaste
+jests from us, at another time we charm you, when we talk nothing but
+virtue, and seem to have all the seven sages on our lips. But the worst
+is, that you get tired of one as much as the other. We may be foolish
+or reasonable, worldly or spiritual; our efforts to make you constant
+are lost either way. The turn will come to your beautiful saint soon
+enough. Shall I give you a little sketch? Just at present you are in
+the most passionate paroxysm over her. I allow this two or at the most
+three days more. To this will succeed a tolerably calm love; for this I
+allow a week. The next week you will only think occasionally of this
+love. In the third week, you will have to be reminded of it; and when
+you have got tired of being thus reminded, you will so quickly see
+yourself reduced to the most utter indifference, that I can hardly
+allow the fourth week for this final change. This would be about a
+month altogether. And this month, Mellefont, I will overlook with the
+greatest pleasure; but you will allow that I must not lose sight of
+you.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You try all the weapons in vain which you remember to have used
+successfully with me in bygone days. A virtuous resolution secures me
+against both your tenderness and your wit. However, I will not expose
+myself longer to either. I go, and have nothing more to tell you but
+that in a few days you shall know that I am bound in such a manner as
+will utterly destroy all your hope of my ever returning into your
+sinful slavery. You will have learned my justification sufficiently
+from the letter which I sent to you before my departure.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is well that you mention this letter. Tell me, who did you get to
+write it?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Did not I write it myself?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Impossible! The beginning of it, in which you reckoned up--I do not
+know what sums--which you say you have wasted with me, must have been
+written by an innkeeper, and the theological part at the end by a
+Quaker. I will now give you a serious reply to it. As to the principal
+point, you well know that all the presents which you have made are
+still in existence. I have never considered your cheques or your jewels
+as my property, and I have brought them all with me to return them into
+the hands which entrusted them to me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Keep them all, Marwood!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I will not keep any of them. What right have I to them without you
+yourself? Although you do not love me any more, you must at least do me
+justice and not take me for one of those venal females, to whom it is a
+matter of indifference by whose booty they enrich themselves. Come,
+Mellefont, you shall this moment be as rich again as you perhaps might
+still be if you had not known me; and perhaps, too, might _not_ be.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What demon intent upon my destruction speaks through you now!
+Voluptuous Marwood does not think so nobly.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Do you call that noble? I call it only just. No, Sir, no, I do not ask
+that you shall account the return of your gifts as anything remarkable.
+It costs me nothing, and I should even consider the slightest
+expression of thanks on your part as an insult, which could have no
+other meaning than this: "Marwood, I thought you a base deceiver; I am
+thankful that you have not wished to be so towards me at least."
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Enough, Madam, enough! I fly, since my unlucky destiny threatens to
+involve me in a contest of generosity, in which I should be most
+unwilling to succumb.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Fly, then! But take everything with you that could remind me of you.
+Poor, despised, without honour, and without friends, I will then
+venture again to awaken your pity. I will show you in the unfortunate
+Marwood only a miserable woman, who has sacrificed to you her person,
+her honour, her virtue, and her conscience. I will remind you of the
+first day, when you saw and loved me; of the first, stammering, bashful
+confession of your love, which you made me at my feet; of the first
+assurance of my return of your love, which you forced from me; of the
+tender looks, of the passionate embraces, which followed, of the
+eloquent silence, when each with busy mind divined the other's most
+secret feelings, and read the most hidden thoughts of the soul in the
+languishing eye; of the trembling expectation of approaching
+gratification; of the intoxication of its joys; of the sweet relaxation
+after the fulness of enjoyment, in which the exhausted spirits regained
+strength for fresh delights. I shall remind you of all this, and then
+embrace your knees, and entreat without ceasing for the only gift,
+which you cannot deny me, and which I can accept without blushing--for
+death from your hand.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Cruel one! I would still give even my life for you. Ask it, ask it,
+only do not any longer claim my love. I must leave you, Marwood, or
+make myself an object of loathing to the whole world. I am culpable
+already in that I only stand here and listen to you. Farewell,
+farewell!
+
+                     MARWOOD (_holding him back_).
+
+You must leave me? And what, then, do you wish, shall become of me? As
+I am now, I am your creature; do, then, what becomes a creator; he may
+not withdraw his hand from the work until he wishes to destroy it
+utterly. Alas, Hannah, I see now, my entreaties alone are too feeble.
+Go, bring my intercessor, who will now, perhaps, return to me more than
+she ever received from me. (_Exit_ Hannah).
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What intercessor, Marwood?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ah, an intercessor of whom you would only too willingly have deprived
+me. Nature will take a shorter road to your heart with her grievances.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You alarm me. Surely you have not----
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                 Arabella, Hannah, Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What do I see? It is she! Marwood, how could you dare to----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Am I not her mother? Come, my Bella, see, here is your protector again,
+your friend, your .... Ah! his heart may tell him what more he can be
+to you than a protector and a friend.
+
+                  MELLEFONT (_turning away his face_).
+
+God, what shall I have to suffer here?
+
+              ARABELLA (_advancing timidly towards him_).
+
+Ah, Sir! Is it you? Are you our Mellefont? No, Madam, surely, surely it
+is not he! Would he not look at me, if it were? Would he not hold me in
+his arms? He used to do so. What an unhappy child I am! How have I
+grieved him, this dear, dear man, who let me call him my father?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You are silent, Mellefont? You grudge the innocent child a single look?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah!
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+Why, he sighs, Madam! What is the matter with him? Cannot we help him?
+Cannot I? Nor you? Then let us sigh with him! Ah, now he looks at me!
+No, he looks away again! He looks up to Heaven! What does he want? What
+does he ask from Heaven? Would that Heaven would grant him everything,
+even if it refused me everything for it!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Go, my child, go, fall at his feet! He wants to leave us, to leave us
+for ever.
+
+             ARABELLA (_falling on her knees before him_).
+
+Here I am already. You will leave us? You will leave us for ever? Have
+not we already been without you for a little "for ever." Shall we have
+to lose you again? You have said so often that you loved us. Does one
+leave the people whom one loves? I cannot love you then, I suppose, for
+I should wish never to leave you. Never, and I never will leave you
+either.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I will help you in your entreaties, my child! And you must help me too!
+Now, Mellefont, you see me too at your feet....
+
+     MELLEFONT (_stopping her, as she throws herself at his feet_).
+
+Marwood, dangerous Marwood! And you, too, my dearest Bella (_raising
+her up_), you too are the enemy of your Mellefont?
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+I your enemy?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+What is your resolve?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What it ought not to be, Marwood; what it ought not to be.
+
+                       MARWOOD (_embracing him_).
+
+Ah, I know that the honesty of your heart has always overcome the
+obstinacy of your desires.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do not importune me any longer! I am already what you wish to make me;
+a perjurer, a seducer, a robber, a murderer!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You will be so in imagination for a few days, and after that you will
+see that I have prevented you from becoming so in reality. You will
+return with us, won't you?
+
+                      ARABELLA (_insinuatingly_).
+
+Oh yes, do!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Return with you! How can I?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Nothing is easier, if you only wish it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And my Sara----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And your Sara may look to herself.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ha! cruel Marwood, these words reveal the very bottom of your heart to
+me. And yet I, wretch, do not repent?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you had seen the bottom of my heart, you would have discovered that
+it has more true pity for your Sara than you yourself have. I say true
+pity; for your pity is egotistic and weak. You have carried this
+love-affair much too far. We might let it pass, that you as a man, who
+by long intercourse with our sex has become master in the art of seducing,
+used your superiority in dissimulation and experience against such a
+young maiden, and did not rest until you had gained your end. You can
+plead the impetuosity of your passion as your excuse. But, Mellefont,
+you cannot justify yourself for having robbed an old father of his only
+child, for having rendered to an honourable old man his few remaining
+steps to the grave harder and more bitter, for having broken the
+strongest ties of nature for the sake of your desires. Repair your
+error, then, as far as it is possible to repair it. Give the old man
+his support again, and send a credulous daughter back to her home,
+which you need not render desolate also, because you have dishonoured
+it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+This only was still wanting--that you should call in my conscience
+against me also. But even supposing what you say were just, must I not
+be brazenfaced if I should propose it myself to the unhappy girl?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Well, I will confess to you, that I have anticipated this difficulty,
+and considered how to spare you it. As soon as I learned your address,
+I informed her old father privately of it. He was beside himself with
+joy, and wanted to start directly. I wonder he has not yet arrived.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What do you say?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Just await his arrival quietly, and do not let the girl notice
+anything. I myself will not detain you any longer. Go to her again; she
+might grow suspicious. But I trust that I shall see you again to-day.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Oh, Marwood! With what feelings did I come to you, and with what must I
+leave you! A kiss, my dear Bella.
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+That was for you, now one for me! But come back again soon, do!
+
+                                               (_Exit_ Mellefont).
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       Marwood, Arabella, Hannah.
+
+                   MARWOOD (_drawing a deep breath_).
+
+Victory, Hannah! but a hard victory! Give me a chair, I feel quite
+exhausted (_sitting down_). He surrendered only just in time, if he had
+hesitated another moment, I should have shown him quite a different
+Marwood.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Ah, Madam, what a woman you are! I should like to Bee the man who could
+resist you.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+He has resisted me already too long. And assuredly, assuredly, I will
+not forgive him that he almost let me go down on my knees to him.
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+No, no! You must forgive him everything. He is so good, so good----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Be silent, little silly!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+I do not know on what side you did not attack him! But nothing, I
+think, touched him more, than the disinterestedness with which you
+offered to return all his presents to him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I believe so too. Ha! ha! ha! (_contemptuously_).
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Why do you laugh, Madam? You really risked a great deal, if you were
+not in earnest about it. Suppose he had taken you at your word?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Oh, nonsense, one knows with whom one has to deal.
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+I quite admit that! But you too, my pretty Bella, did your part
+excellently, excellently!
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+How so? Could I do it, then, any other way? I had not seen him for such
+a long time. I hope you are not angry, Madam, that I love him so? I
+love you as much as him, just as much.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Very well, I will pardon you this time that you do not love me better
+than him.
+
+                         ARABELLA (_sobbing_).
+
+This time?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Why, you are crying actually? What is it about?
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+Ah, no! I am not crying. Do not get angry! I will love you both so
+much, so much, that it will be impossible to love either of you more.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Very well.
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+I am so unhappy.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Now be quiet----but what is that?
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                 Mellefont, Marwood, Arabella, Hannah.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Why do you come back again so soon, Mellefont? (_rising_).
+
+                      MELLEFONT (_passionately_).
+
+Because I needed but a few moments to recover my senses.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Well?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I was stunned, Marwood, but not moved! You have had all your trouble in
+vain. Another atmosphere than this infectious one of your room has
+given me back my courage and my strength, to withdraw my foot in time
+from this dangerous snare. Were the tricks of a Marwood not
+sufficiently familiar to me, unworthy wretch that I am?
+
+                        MARWOOD (_impatiently_).
+
+What language is that?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The language of truth and anger.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Gently, Mellefont! or I too shall speak in the same language.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I return only in order not to leave you one moment longer under a
+delusion with regard to me, which must make me despicable even in your
+eyes.
+
+                          ARABELLA (_timidly_).
+
+Oh, Hannah!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Look at me as madly as you like. The more madly the better! Was it
+possible that I could hesitate only for one moment between a Marwood
+and a Sara, and that I had well nigh decided for the former?
+
+                               ARABELLA.
+
+Oh, Mellefont!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do not tremble, Bella! For your sake too I came back. Give me your
+hand, and follow me without fear!
+
+                       MARWOOD (_stopping them_).
+
+Whom shall she follow, traitor?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Her father!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Go, pitiable wretch, and learn first to know her mother.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I know her. She is a disgrace to her sex.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Take her away, Hannah!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Remain here, Bella (_attempting to stop her_).
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No force, Mellefont, or----
+
+                                  (_Exeunt_ Hannah _and_ Arabella).
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                          Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Now we are alone! Say now once more, whether you are determined to
+sacrifice me for a foolish girl?
+
+                        MELLEFONT (_bitterly_).
+
+Sacrifice you? You recall to my mind that impure animals were also
+sacrificed to the ancient gods.
+
+                         MARWOOD (_mockingly_).
+
+Express yourself without these learned allusions.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I tell you, then, that I am firmly resolved never to think of you
+again, but with the most fearful of curses. Who are you? And who is
+Sara? You are a voluptuous, egoistic, shameful strumpet, who certainly
+can scarcely remember any longer that she ever was innocent. I have
+nothing to reproach myself with but that I have enjoyed with you that
+which otherwise you would perhaps have let the whole world enjoy. You
+have sought me, not I you, and if I now know who Marwood is, I have
+paid for this knowledge dearly enough. It has cost me my fortune, my
+honour, my happiness----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And I would that it might also cost you your eternal happiness.
+Monster! Is the devil worse than you, when he lures feeble mortals into
+crimes and himself accuses them afterwards for these crimes which are
+his own work! What is my innocence to you? What does it matter to you
+when and how I lost it. If I could not sacrifice my virtue, I have at
+least staked my good name for you. The former is no more valuable than
+the latter. What do I say? More valuable? Without it the former is a
+silly fancy, which brings one neither happiness nor guilt. The good
+name alone gives it some value, and can exist quite well without it.
+What did it matter what I was before I knew you, you wretch! It is
+enough that in the eyes of the world I was a woman without reproach.
+Through you only it has learned that I am not so; solely through my
+readiness to accept your heart, as I then thought, without your hand.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+This very readiness condemns you, vile woman!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But do you remember to what base tricks you owed it? Was I not
+persuaded by you, that you could not be publicly united to me without
+forfeiting an inheritance which you wished to share with me only? Is it
+time now to renounce it? And to renounce it, not for me but for
+another!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is a real delight to me to be able to tell you that this difficulty
+will soon be removed. Content yourself therefore with having deprived
+me of my father's inheritance, and let me enjoy a far smaller one with
+a more worthy wife.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ha! Now I see what it is that makes you so perverse. Well, I will lose
+no more words. Be it so! Be assured I shall do everything to forget
+you. And the first thing that I will do to this end, shall be this. You
+will understand me! Tremble for your Bella! Her life shall not carry
+the memory of my despised love down to posterity; my cruelty shall do
+it. Behold in me a new Medea!
+
+                       MELLEFONT (_frightened_).
+
+Marwood!----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Or, if you know a more cruel mother still, behold her cruelty doubled
+in me! Poison and dagger shall avenge me. But no, poison and dagger are
+tools too merciful for me! They would kill your child and mine too
+soon. I will not see it dead. I will see it dying! I will see each
+feature of the face which she has from you disfigured, distorted, and
+obliterated by slow torture. With eager hand will I part limb from
+limb, vein from vein, nerve from nerve, and will not cease to cut and
+burn the very smallest of them, even when there is nothing remaining
+but a senseless carcass! I--I shall at least feel in it--how sweet is
+revenge!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are raving, Marwood----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You remind me that my ravings are not directed against the right
+person. The father must go first! He must already be in yonder world,
+when, through a thousand woes the spirit of his daughter follows him
+(_she advances towards him with a dagger which she draws from her
+bosom_). So die, traitor!
+
+   MELLEFONT (_seizing her arm, and snatching the dagger from her_).
+
+Insane woman! What hinders me now from turning the steel against you?
+But live, and your punishment shall be left for a hand void of honour.
+
+                    MARWOOD (_wringing her hands_).
+
+Heaven, what have I done? Mellefont----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Your grief shall not deceive me. I know well why you are sorry--not
+that you wished to stab me, but that you failed to do so.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Give me back the erring steel! Give it me back, and you shall see for
+whom it was sharpened! For this breast alone, which for long has been
+too narrow for a heart which will rather renounce life than your love.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Hannah!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+What are you doing, Mellefont?
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+               Hannah (_in terror_), Marwood, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Did you hear, Hannah, how madly your mistress was behaving? Remember
+that I shall hold you responsible for Arabella!
+
+                                HANNAH.
+
+Madam, how agitated you are!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I will place the innocent child in safety immediately. Justice will
+doubtless be able to bind the murderous hands of her cruel mother
+(_going_).
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Whither, Mellefont? Is it astonishing that the violence of my grief
+deprived me of my reason? Who forces me to such unnatural excess? Is it
+not you yourself? Where can Bella be safer than with me? My lips may
+rave, but my heart still remains the heart of a mother. Oh, Mellefont,
+forget my madness, and to excuse it think only of its cause.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+There is only one thing which can induce me to forget it.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And that is?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+That you return immediately to London! I will send Arabella there under
+another escort. You must by no means have anything further to do with
+her.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Very well! I submit to everything; but grant me one single request
+more. Let me see your Sara once.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And what for?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+To read in her eyes my future fate. I will judge for myself whether she
+is worthy of such a breach of faith as you commit against me; and
+whether I may cherish the hope of receiving again, some day at any
+rate, a portion of your love.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Vain hope!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Who is so cruel as to grudge even hope to the unhappy? I will not show
+myself to her as Marwood, but as a relation of yours. Announce me to
+her as such; you shall be present when I call upon her, and I promise
+you, by all that is sacred, to say nothing that is in any way
+displeasing to her. Do not refuse my request, for otherwise I might
+perhaps do all that is in my power to show myself to her in my true
+character.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood! This request----(_after a moment's reflection_) might be
+granted.--But will you then be sure to quit this spot?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Certainly; yes I promise you. Even more, I will spare you the visit
+from her father, if that is still possible.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+There is no need of that! I hope that he will include me too in the
+pardon which he grants to his daughter. But if he will not pardon her,
+I too shall know how to deal with him. I will go and announce you to my
+Sara. Only keep your promise, Marwood. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Alas, Hannah, that our powers are not as great as our courage. Come,
+help me to dress. I do not despair of my scheme. If I could only make
+sure of him first. Come!
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT III.
+
+                 Scene I. (_A room in the first inn_.)
+
+                     Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+There, Waitwell, take this letter to her! It is the letter of an
+affectionate father, who complains of nothing but her absence. Tell her
+that I have sent you on before with it, and that I only await her
+answer, to come myself and fold her again in my arms.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I think you do well to prepare them for your arrival in this way.
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+I make sure of her intentions by this means, and give her the
+opportunity of freeing herself from any shame or sorrow which
+repentance might cause her, before she speaks verbally with me. In a
+letter it will cost her less embarrassment, and me, perhaps, fewer
+tears.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+But may I ask, Sir, what you have resolved upon with regard to
+Mellefont?
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+Ah, Waitwell, if I could separate him from my daughter's lover, I
+should make some very harsh resolve. But as this cannot be, you see, he
+is saved from my anger. I myself am most to blame in this misfortune.
+But for me Sara would never have made the acquaintance of this
+dangerous man. I admitted him freely into my house on account of an
+obligation under which I believed myself to be to him. It was natural
+that the attention which in gratitude I paid him, should win for him
+the esteem of my daughter. And it was just as natural, that a man of
+his disposition should suffer himself to be tempted by this esteem to
+something more. He had been clever enough to transform it into love
+before I noticed anything at all, and before I had time to inquire into
+his former life. The evil was done, and I should have done well, if I
+had forgiven them everything immediately. I wished to be inexorable
+towards him, and did not consider that I could not be so towards him
+alone. If I had spared my severity, which came too late, I would at
+least have prevented their flight. But here I am now, Waitwell! I must
+fetch them back myself and consider myself happy if only I can make a
+son of a seducer. For who knows whether he will give up his Marwoods
+and his other creatures for the sake of a girl who has left nothing for
+his desires to wish for and who understands so little the bewitching
+arts of a coquette?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Well, Sir, it cannot be possible, that a man could be so wicked----
+
+                          SIR WILLIAM SAMPSON.
+
+This doubt, good Waitwell, does honour to your virtue. But why, at the
+same time, is it true that the limits of human wickedness extend much
+further still? Go now, and do as I told you! Notice every look as she
+reads my letter. In this short deviation from virtue she cannot yet
+have learned the art of dissimulation, to the masks of which only
+deep-rooted vice can have recourse. You will read her whole soul in her
+face. Do not let a look escape you which might perhaps indicate
+indifference to me--disregard of her father. For if you should
+unhappily discover this, and if she loves me no more, I hope that I
+shall be able to conquer myself and abandon her to her fate. I hope so,
+Waitwell. Alas! would that there were no heart here, to contradict this
+hope.                          (_Exeunt on different sides_.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                         Miss Sara, Mellefont.
+
+                            (Sara's _room_.)
+
+                                MELLEFONT.
+
+I have done wrong, dearest Sara, to leave you in uneasiness about the
+letter which came just now.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh dear, no, Mellefont! I have not been in the least uneasy about it.
+Could you not love me even though you still had secrets from me?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You think, then, that it was a secret?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But not one which concerns me. And that must suffice for me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are only too good. Let me nevertheless reveal my secret to you. The
+letter contained a few lines from a relative of mine, who has heard of
+my being here. She passes through here on her way to London, and would
+like to see me. She has begged at the same time to be allowed the
+honour of paying you a visit.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+It will always be a pleasure to me to make the acquaintance of the
+respected members of your family. But consider for yourself, whether I
+can yet appear before one of them without blushing.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Without blushing? And for what? For your love to me? It is true, Sara,
+you could have given your love to a nobler or a richer man. You must be
+ashamed that you were content to give your heart for another heart
+only, and that in this exchange you lost sight of your happiness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You must know yourself how wrongly you interpret my words.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Pardon me, Sara; if my interpretation is wrong, they can have no
+meaning at all.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What is the name of your relation?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+She is--Lady Solmes. You will have heard me mention the name before.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I don't remember.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+May I beg you to see her?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Beg me? You can command me to do so.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What a word! No, Sara, she shall not have the happiness of seeing you.
+She will regret it, but she must submit to it. Sara has her reasons,
+which I respect without knowing them.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How hasty you are, Mellefont! I shall expect Lady Solmes, and do my
+best to show myself worthy of the honour of her visit. Are you content?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara! let me confess my ambition. I should like to show you to the
+whole world! And were I not proud of the possession of such a being, I
+should reproach myself with not being able to appreciate her value. I
+will go and bring her to you at once. (_Exit_.)
+
+                            SARA (_alone_).
+
+I hope she will not be one of those proud women, who are so full of
+their own virtue that they believe themselves above all failings. With
+one single look of contempt they condemn us, and an equivocal shrug of
+the shoulders is all the pity we seem to deserve in their eyes.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                            Waitwell, Sara.
+
+                      BETTY (_behind the scenes_).
+
+Just come in here, if you must speak to her yourself!
+
+                        SARA (_looking round_).
+
+Who must speak to me? Whom do I see? Is it possible? You, Waitwell?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+How happy I am to see our young lady again!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Good God, what do you bring me? I hear already, I hear already; you
+bring me the news of my father's death! He is gone, the excellent man,
+the best of fathers! He is gone, and I--I am the miserable creature who
+has hastened his death.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Ah, Miss----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Tell me, quick! tell me, that his last moments were not embittered by
+the thought of me; that he had forgotten me; that he died as peacefully
+as he used to hope to die in my arms; that he did not remember me even
+in his last prayer----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Pray do not torment yourself with such false notions! Your father is
+still alive! He is still alive, honest Sir William!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Is he still alive? Is it true? Is he still alive? May he live a long
+while yet, and live happily! Oh, would that God would add the half of
+my years to his life! Half! How ungrateful should I be, if I were not
+willing to buy even a few moments for him with all the years, that may
+yet be mine! But tell me at least, Waitwell, that it is not hard for
+him to live without me; that it was easy to him to renounce a daughter
+who could so easily renounce her virtue, that he is angry with me for
+my flight, but not grieved; that he curses me, but does not mourn for
+me.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Ah! Sir William is still the same fond father, as his Sara is still the
+same fond daughter that she was.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you say? You are a messenger of evil, of the most dreadful of
+all the evils which my imagination has ever pictured to me! He is still
+the same fond father? Then he loves me still? And he must mourn for me,
+then! No no, he does not do so; he cannot do so? Do you not see how
+infinitely each sigh which he wasted on me would magnify my crime?
+Would not the justice of heaven have to charge me with every tear which
+I forced from him, as if with each one I repeated my vice and my
+ingratitude? I grow chill at the thought. I cause him tears? Tears? And
+they are other tears than tears of joy? Contradict me, Waitwell! At
+most he has felt some slight stirring of the blood on my account; some
+transitory emotion, calmed by a slight effort of reason. He did not go
+so far as to shed tears, surely not to shed tears, Waitwell?
+
+                     WAITWELL (_wiping his eyes_).
+
+No, Miss, he did not go so far as that.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Alas! your lips say no, and your eyes say yes.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Take this letter Miss, it is from him himself----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+From whom? From my father? To me?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Yes, take it! You can learn more from it, than I am able to say. He
+ought to have given this to another to do, not to me. I promised myself
+pleasure from it; but you turn my joy into sadness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Give it me, honest Waitwell! But no! I will not take it before you tell
+me what it contains.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+What can it contain? Love and forgiveness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Love? Forgiveness?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+And perhaps a real regret, that he used the rights of a father's power
+against a child, who should only have the privileges of a father's
+kindness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Then keep your cruel letter.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Cruel? Have no fear. Full liberty is granted you over your heart and
+hand.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And it is just this which I fear. To grieve a father such as he, this I
+have had the courage to do. But to see him forced by this very grief-by
+his love which I have forfeited, to look with leniency on all the wrong
+into which an unfortunate passion has led me; this, Waitwell, I could
+not bear. If his letter contained all the hard and angry words which an
+exasperated father can utter in such a case, I should read it--with a
+shudder it is true--but still I should be able to read it. I should be
+able to produce a shadow of defence against his wrath, to make him by
+this defence if possible more angry still. My consolation then would be
+this-that melancholy grief could have no place with violent wrath and
+that the latter would transform itself finally into bitter contempt.
+And we grieve no more for one whom we despise. My father would have
+grown calm again, and I would not have to reproach myself with having
+made him unhappy for ever.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Alas, Miss! You will have to reproach yourself still less for this if
+you now accept his love again, which wishes only to forget everything.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You are mistaken, Waitwell! His yearning for me misleads him, perhaps,
+to give his consent to everything. But no sooner would this desire be
+appeased a little, than he would feel ashamed before himself of his
+weakness. Sullen anger would take possession of him, and he would never
+be able to look at me without silently accusing me of all that I had
+dared to exact from him. Yes, if it were in my power to spare him his
+bitterest grief, when on my account he is laying the greatest restraint
+upon himself; if at a moment when he would grant me everything I could
+sacrifice all to him; then it would be quite a different matter. I
+would take the letter from your hands with pleasure, would admire in it
+the strength of the fatherly love, and, not to abuse this love, I would
+throw myself at his feet a repentant and obedient daughter. But can I
+do that? I shall be obliged to make use of his permission, regardless
+of the price this permission has cost him. And then, when I feel most
+happy, it will suddenly occur to me that he only outwardly appears to
+share my happiness and that inwardly he is sighing--in short, that he
+has made me happy by the renunciation of his own happiness. And to wish
+to be happy in this way,--do you expect that of me, Waitwell?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I truly do not know what answer to give to that.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+There is no answer to it. So take your letter back! If my father must
+be unhappy through me, I will myself remain unhappy also. To be quite
+alone in unhappiness is that for which I now pray Heaven every hour,
+but to be quite alone in my happiness--of that I will not hear.
+
+                          WAITWELL (_aside_).
+
+I really think I shall have to employ deception with this good child to
+get her to read the letter.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What are you saying to yourself?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I was saying to myself that the idea I had hit on to get you to read
+this letter all the quicker was a very clumsy one.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How so?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I could not look far enough. Of course you see more deeply into things
+than such as I. I did not wish to frighten you; the letter is perhaps
+only too hard; and when I said that it contained nothing but love and
+forgiveness, I ought to have said that I wished it might not contain
+anything else.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Is that true? Give it me then! I will read it. If one has been
+unfortunate enough to deserve the anger of one's father, one should at
+least have enough respect for it to submit to the expression of it on
+his part. To try to frustrate it means to heap contempt on insult. I
+shall feel his anger in all its strength. You see I tremble already.
+But I must tremble; and I will rather tremble than weep (_opens the
+letter_). Now it is opened! I sink! But what do I see? (_she reads_)
+"My only, dearest daughter"--ah, you old deceiver, is that the language
+of an angry father? Go, I shall read no more----
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Ah, Miss! You will pardon an old servant! Yes, truly, I believe it is
+the first time in my life that I have intentionally deceived any one.
+He who deceives once, Miss, and deceives for so good a purpose, is
+surely no old deceiver on that account. That touches me deeply, Miss! I
+know well that the good intention does not always excuse one; but what
+else could I do? To return his letter unread to such a good father?
+That certainly I cannot do! Sooner will I walk as far as my old legs
+will carry me, and never again come into his presence.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What? You too will leave him?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Shall I not be obliged to do so if you do not read the letter? Read it,
+pray! Do not grudge a good result to the first deceit with which I have
+to reproach myself. You will forget it the sooner, and I shall the
+sooner be able to forgive myself. I am a common, simple man, who must
+not question the reasons why you cannot and will not read the letter.
+Whether they are true, I know not, but at any rate they do not appear
+to me to be natural. I should think thus, Miss: a father, I should
+think, is after all a father; and a child may err for once, and remain
+a good child in spite of it. If the father pardons the error, the child
+may behave again in such a manner that the father may not even think of
+it any more. For who likes to remember what he would rather had never
+happened? It seems, Miss, as if you thought only of your error, and
+believed you atoned sufficiently in exaggerating it in your imagination
+and tormenting yourself with these exaggerated ideas. But, I should
+think, you ought also to consider how you could make up for what has
+happened. And how will you make up for it, if you deprive yourself of
+every opportunity of doing so. Can it be hard for you to take the
+second step, when such a good father has already taken the first?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What daggers pierce my heart in your simple words! That he has to take
+the first step is just what I cannot bear. And, besides, is it only the
+first step which he takes? He must do all! I cannot take a single one
+to meet him. As far as I have gone from him, so far must he descend to
+me. If he pardons me, he must pardon the whole crime, and in addition
+must bear the consequences of it continually before his eyes. Can one
+demand that from a father?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I do not know, Miss, whether I understand this quite right. But it
+seems to me, you mean to say that he would have to forgive you too
+much, and as this could not but be very difficult to him, you make a
+scruple of accepting his forgiveness. If you mean that, tell me, pray,
+is not forgiving a great happiness to a kind heart? I have not been so
+fortunate in my life as to have felt this happiness often. But I still
+remember with pleasure the few instances when I have felt it. I felt
+something so sweet, something so tranquillising, something so divine,
+that I could not help thinking of the great insurpassable blessedness
+of God, whose preservation of miserable mankind is a perpetual
+forgiveness. I wished that I could be forgiving continually, and was
+ashamed that I had only such trifles to pardon. To forgive real painful
+insults, deadly offences, I said to myself, must be a bliss in which
+the whole soul melts. And now, Miss, will you grudge your father such
+bliss?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah! Go on, Waitwell, go on!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I know well there are people who accept nothing less willingly than
+forgiveness, and that because they have never learned to grant it. They
+are proud, unbending people, who will on no account confess that they
+have done wrong. But you do not belong to this kind, Miss! You have the
+most loving and tender of hearts that the best of your sex can have.
+You confess your fault too. Where then is the difficulty? But pardon
+me, Miss! I am an old chatterer, and ought to have seen at once that
+your refusal is only a praiseworthy solicitude, only a virtuous
+timidity. People who can accept a great benefit immediately without any
+hesitation are seldom worthy of it. Those who deserve it most have
+always the greatest mistrust of themselves. Yet mistrust must not be
+pushed beyond limits!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dear old father! I believe you have persuaded me.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+If I have been so fortunate as that it must have been a good spirit
+that has helped me to plead. But no, Miss, my words have done no more
+than given you time to reflect and to recover from the bewilderment of
+joy. You will read the letter now, will you not? Oh, read it at once!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I will do so, Waitwell! What regrets, what pain shall I feel!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Pain, Miss! but pleasant pain.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Be silent! (_begins reading to herself_).
+
+                          WAITWELL (_aside_).
+
+Oh! If he could see her himself!
+
+                 SARA (_after reading a few moments_).
+
+Ah, Waitwell, what a father! He calls my flight "an absence." How much
+more culpable it becomes through this gentle word! (_continues reading
+and interrupts herself again_). Listen! he flatters himself I shall
+love him still. He flatters himself! He begs me--he begs me? A father
+begs his daughter? his culpable daughter? And what does he beg then? He
+begs me to forget his over-hasty severity, and not to punish him any
+longer with my absence. Over-hasty severity! To punish! More still! Now
+he thanks me even, and thanks me that I have given him an opportunity
+of learning the whole extent of paternal love. Unhappy opportunity!
+Would that he also said it had shown him at the same time the extent of
+filial disobedience. No, he does not say it! He does not mention my
+crime with one single word. (_Continues reading_.) He will come himself
+and fetch his children. His children, Waitwell! that surpasses
+everything! Have I read it rightly? (_reads again to herself_) I am
+overcome! He says, that he without whom he could not possess a daughter
+deserves but too well to be his son. Oh that he had never had this
+unfortunate daughter! Go, Waitwell, leave me alone! He wants an answer,
+and I will write it at once. Come again in an hour! I thank you
+meanwhile for your trouble. You are an honest man. Few servants are the
+friends of their masters!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Do not make me blush, Miss! If all masters were like Sir William,
+servants would be monsters, if they would not give their lives for
+them. (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                      SARA (_sits down to write_).
+
+If they had told me a year ago that I should have to answer such a
+letter! And under such circumstances! Yes, I have the pen in my hand.
+But do I know yet what I shall write? What I think; what I feel. And
+what then does one think when a thousand thoughts cross each other in
+one moment? And what does one feel, when the heart is in a stupor from
+a thousand feelings. But I must write! I do not guide the pen for the
+first time. After assisting me in so many a little act of politeness
+and friendship, should its help fail me at the most important office?
+(_She pauses, and then writes a few lines_.) It shall commence so? A
+very cold beginning! And shall I then begin with his love? I must begin
+with my crime. (_She scratches it out and writes again_.) I must be on
+my guard not to express myself too leniently. Shame may be in its place
+anywhere else, but not in the confession of our faults. I need not fear
+falling into exaggeration, even though I employ the most dreadful
+terms. Ah, am I to be interrupted now?
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       Marwood, Mellefont, Sara.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Dearest Sara, I have the honour of introducing Lady Solmes to you; she
+is one of the members of my family to whom I feel myself most indebted.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I must beg your pardon, Madam, for taking the liberty of convincing
+myself with my own eyes of the happiness of a cousin, for whom I should
+wish the most perfect of women if the first moment had not at once
+convinced me, that he has found her already in you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Your ladyship does me too much honour! Such a compliment would have
+made me blush at any time, but now I would almost take it as concealed
+reproach, if I did not think that Lady Solmes is much too generous to
+let her superiority in virtue and wisdom be felt by an unhappy girl.
+
+                          MARWOOD (_coldly_).
+
+I should be inconsolable if you attributed to me any but the most
+friendly feelings towards you. (_Aside_.) She is good-looking.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Would it be possible Madam, to remain indifferent to such beauty, such
+modesty? People say, it is true, that one charming woman rarely does
+another one justice, but this is to be taken only of those who are
+over-vain of their superiority, and on the other hand of those who are
+not conscious of possessing any superiority. How far are you both
+removed from this. (_To_ Marwood, _who stands in deep thought_.) Is it
+not true, Madam, that my love has been anything but partial? Is it not
+true, that though I have said much to you in praise of my Sara, I have
+not said nearly so much as you yourself see? But why so thoughtful.
+(_Aside to her_.) You forget whom you represent.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+May I say it? The admiration of your dear young lady led me to the
+contemplation of her fate. It touched me, that she should not enjoy the
+fruits of her love in her native land. I recollected that she had to
+leave a father, and a very affectionate father as I have been told, in
+order to become yours; and I could not but wish for her reconciliation
+with him.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah, Madam! how much am I indebted to you for this wish. It encourages
+me to tell you the whole of my happiness. You cannot yet know,
+Mellefont, that this wish was granted before Lady Solmes had the
+kindness to wish it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How do you mean, Sara?
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+How am I to interpret that?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I have just received a letter from my father. Waitwell brought it to
+me. Ah, Mellefont, such a letter!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Quick, relieve me from my uncertainty. What have I to fear? What have I
+to hope? Is he still the father from whom we fled? And if he is, will
+Sara be the daughter who loves me so tenderly as to fly again? Alas,
+had I but done as you wished, dearest Sara, we should now be united by
+a bond which no caprice could dissolve. I feel now all the misfortune
+which the discovery of our abode may bring upon me.--He will come and
+tear you out of my arms. How I hate the contemptible being who has
+betrayed us to him (_with an angry glance at_ Marwood).
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dearest Mellefont, how flattering to me is this uneasiness I And how
+happy are we both in that it is unnecessary. Read his letter! (_To_
+Marwood, _whilst_ Mellefont _reads the letter_.) He will be astonished
+at the love of my father. Of my father? Ah, he is _his_ now too.
+
+                         MARWOOD (_perplexed_).
+
+Is it possible?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Yes, Madam, you have good cause to be surprised at this change. He
+forgives us everything; we shall now love each other before his eyes;
+he allows it, he commands it. How has this kindness gone to my very
+soul! Well, Mellefont? (_who returns the letter to her_). You are
+silent? Oh no, this tear which steals from your eye says far more than
+your lips could say.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+How I have injured my own cause. Imprudent woman that I was!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh, let me kiss this tear from your cheek.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara, why was it our fate to grieve such a godlike man? Yes, a
+godlike man, for what is more godlike than to forgive? Could we only
+have imagined such a happy issue possible, we should not now owe it to
+such violent means, we should owe it to our entreaties alone. What
+happiness is in store for me! But how painful also will be the
+conviction, that I am so unworthy of this happiness!
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+And I must be present to hear this.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How perfectly you justify my love by such thoughts.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_.)
+
+What restraint must I put on myself!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You too, Madam, must read my father's letter. You seem to take too
+great an interest in our fate to be indifferent to its contents.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Indifferent? (_takes the letter_).
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But, Madam, you still seem very thoughtful, very sad----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Thoughtful, but not sad!
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+Heavens! If she should betray herself!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And why then thoughtful?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I tremble for you both. Could not this unforeseen kindness of your
+father be a dissimulation? An artifice?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Assuredly not, Madam, assuredly not. Only read and you will admit it
+yourself. Dissimulation is always cold, it is not capable of such
+tender words. (Marwood _reads_.) Do not grow suspicious, Mellefont, I
+beg. I pledge myself that my father cannot condescend to an artifice.
+He says nothing which he does not think, falseness is a vice unknown to
+him.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Oh, of that I am thoroughly convinced, dearest Sara! You must pardon
+Lady Solmes for this suspicion, since she does not know the man whom it
+concerns.
+
+          SARA (_whilst_ Marwood _returns the letter to her_).
+
+What do I see, my lady? You are pale! You tremble! What is the matter
+with you?
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_aside_).
+
+What anxiety I suffer? Why did I bring her here?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is nothing but a slight dizziness, which will pass over. The night
+air on my journey must have disagreed with me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You frighten me! Would you not like to go into the air? You will
+recover sooner than in a close room.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you think so, give me your arm!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I will accompany your ladyship!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I beg you will not trouble to do so! My faintness will pass over
+immediately.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I hope then, to see you again soon.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you permit me (Mellefont _conducts her out_).
+
+                            SARA (_alone_).
+
+Poor thing! She does not seem exactly the most friendly of people; but
+yet she does not appear to be either proud or ill-tempered. I am alone
+again. Can I employ the few moments, while I remain so, better than by
+finishing my answer? (_Is about to sit down to write_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                              Betty, Sara.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+That was indeed a very short visit.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Yes, Betty! It was Lady Solmes, a relation of my Mellefont. She was
+suddenly taken faint. Where is she now?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Mellefont has accompanied her to the door.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+She is gone again, then?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+I suppose so. But the more I look at you--you must forgive my freedom,
+Miss--the more you seem to me to be altered. There is something calm,
+something contented in your looks. Either Lady Solmes must have been a
+very pleasant visitor, or the old man a very pleasant messenger.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+The latter, Betty, the latter! He came from my father. What a tender
+letter I have for you to read! Your kind heart has often wept with me,
+now it shall rejoice with me, too. I shall be happy again, and be able
+to reward you for your good services.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What services could I render you in nine short weeks?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You could not have done more for me in all the rest of my life, than in
+these nine weeks. They are over! But come now with me, Betty. As
+Mellefont is probably alone again, I must speak to him. It just occurs
+to me that it would be well if he wrote at the same time to my father,
+to whom an expression of gratitude from him could hardly come
+unexpectedly. Come!                               (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Sir William Sampson, Waitwell.
+
+                         (_The drawing-room_.)
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+What balm you have poured on my wounded heart with your words,
+Waitwell! I live again, and the prospect of her return seems to carry
+me as far back to my youth as her flight had brought me nearer to my
+grave. She loves me still? What more do I wish! Go back to her soon,
+Waitwell? I am impatient for the moment when I shall fold her again in
+these arms, which I had stretched out so longingly to death! How
+welcome would it have been to me in the moments of my grief! And how
+terrible will it be to me in my new happiness! An old man, no doubt, is
+to be blamed for drawing the bonds so tight again which still unite him
+to the world. The final separation becomes the more painful. But God
+who shows Himself so merciful to me now, will also help me to go
+through this. Would He, I ask, grant me a mercy in order to let it
+become ray ruin in the end? Would He give me back a daughter, that I
+should have to murmur when He calls me from life? No, no! He gives her
+back to me that in my last hour I may be anxious about myself alone.
+Thanks to Thee, Eternal Father! How feeble is the gratitude of mortal
+lips? But soon, soon I shall be able to thank Him more worthily in an
+eternity devoted to Him alone!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+How it delights me, Sir, to know you happy again before my death!
+Believe me, I have suffered almost as much in your grief as you
+yourself. Almost as much, for the grief of a father in such a case must
+be inexpressible.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not regard yourself as my servant any longer, my good Waitwell. You
+have long deserved to enjoy a more seemly old age. I will give it you,
+and you shall not be worse off than I am while I am still in this world.
+I will abolish all difference between us; in yonder world, you well know,
+it will be done. For this once be the old servant still, on whom I never
+relied in vain. Go, and be sure to bring me her answer, as soon as it
+is ready.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+I go, Sir! But such an errand is not a service. It is a reward which
+you grant me for my services. Yes, truly it is so! (_Exeunt on
+different sides of the stage_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT IV.
+
+
+                      Scene I.--Mellefont's _room_.
+
+                            Mellefont, Sara.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Yes, dearest Sara, yes! That I will do! That I must do.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+How happy you make me!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is I who must take the whole crime upon myself. I alone am guilty; I
+alone must ask for forgiveness.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+No, Mellefont, do not take from me the greater share which I have in
+our error! It is dear to me, however wrong it is, for it must have
+convinced you that I love my Mellefont above everything in this world.
+But is it, then, really true, that I may henceforth combine this love
+with the love of my father? Or am I in a pleasant dream? How I fear it
+will pass and I shall awaken in my old misery! But no! I am not merely
+dreaming, I am really happier than I ever dared hope to become; happier
+than this short life may perhaps allow. But perhaps this beam of
+happiness appears in the distance, and delusively seems to approach
+only in order to melt away again into thick darkness, and to leave me
+suddenly in a night whose whole terror has only become perceptible to
+me through this short illumination. What forebodings torment me! Are
+they really forebodings, Mellefont, or are they common feelings, which
+are inseparable from the expectation of an undeserved happiness, and
+the fear of losing it? How fast my heart beats, and how wildly it
+beats. How loud now, how quick! And now how weak, how anxious, how
+quivering! Now it hurries again, as if these were its last throbbings,
+which it would fain beat out rapidly. Poor heart!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The tumult of your blood, which a sudden surprise cannot fail to cause,
+will abate, Sara, and your heart will continue its work more calmly.
+None of its throbs point to aught that is in the future, and we are to
+blame--forgive me, dearest Sara!--if we make the mechanic pressure of
+our blood into a prophet of evil. But I will not leave anything undone
+which you yourself think good to appease this little storm within your
+breast. I will write at once, and I hope that Sir William will be
+satisfied with the assurances of my repentance, with the expressions of
+my stricken heart, and my vows of affectionate obedience.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Sir William? Ah, Mellefont, you must begin now to accustom yourself to
+a far more tender name. My father, your father, Mellefont----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Very well, Sara, our kind, our dear father! I was very young when I
+last used this sweet name; very young, when I had to unlearn the
+equally sweet name of mother.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You had to unlearn it, and I--I was never so happy, as to be able to
+pronounce it at all. My life was her death! O God, I was a guiltless
+matricide! And how much was wanting--how little, how almost nothing was
+wanting to my becoming a parricide too! Not a guiltless, but a
+voluntary parricide. And who knows, whether I am not so already? The
+years, the days, the moments by which he is nearer to his end than he
+would have been without the grief I have caused him--of those I have
+robbed him. However old and weary he may be when Fate shall permit him
+to depart, my conscience will yet be unable to escape the reproach that
+but for me he might have lived yet longer. A sad reproach with which I
+doubtless should not need to charge myself, if a loving mother had
+guided me in my youth. Through her teaching and her example my heart
+would--you look tenderly on me, Mellefont? You are right; a mother
+would perhaps have been a tyrant for very love, and I should not now
+belong to Mellefont. Why do I wish then for that, which a wiser Fate
+denied me out of kindness? Its dispensations are always best. Let us
+only make proper use of that which it gives us; a father who never yet
+let me sigh for a mother; a father who will also teach you to forget
+the parents you lost so soon. What a flattering thought. I fall in love
+with it, and forget almost, that in my innermost heart there is still
+something which refuses to put faith in it. What is this rebellious
+something?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+This something, dearest Sara, as you have already said yourself, is the
+natural, timid incapability to realize a great happiness. Ah, your
+heart hesitated less to believe itself unhappy than now, to its own
+torment, it hesitates to believe in its own happiness! But as to one
+who has become dizzy with quick movement, the external objects still
+appear to move round when again he is sitting still, so the heart which
+has been violently agitated cannot suddenly become calm again; there
+remains often for a long time, a quivering palpitation which we must
+suffer to exhaust itself.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I believe it, Mellefont, I believe it, because you say it, because I
+wish it. But do not let us detain each other any longer! I will go and
+finish my letter. And you will let me read yours, will you not, after I
+have shown you mine?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Each word shall be submitted to your judgment; except what I must say
+in your defence, for I know you do not think yourself so innocent as
+you are. (_Accompanies Sara to the back of the stage_.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+   MELLEFONT (_after walking up and down several times in thought_).
+
+What a riddle I am to myself! What shall I think myself? A fool? Or a
+knave? Heart, what a villain thou art! I love the angel, however much
+of a devil I may be. I love her! Yes, certainly! certainly I love her.
+I feel I would sacrifice a thousand lives for her, for her who
+sacrificed her virtue for me; I would do so,--this very moment without
+hesitation would I do so. And yet, yet--I am afraid to say it to
+myself--and yet--how shall I explain it? And yet I fear the moment
+which will make her mine for ever before the world. It cannot be
+avoided now, for her father is reconciled. Nor shall I be able to put
+it off for long. The delay has already drawn down painful reproaches
+enough upon me. But painful as they were, they were still more
+supportable to me than the melancholy thought of being fettered for
+life. But am I not so already? Certainly,--and with pleasure! Certainly
+I am already her prisoner. What is it I want, then? At present I am a
+prisoner, who is allowed to go about on parole; that is flattering! Why
+cannot the matter rest there? Why must I be put in chains and thus lack
+even the pitiable shadow of freedom? In chains? Quite so! Sara Sampson,
+my beloved! What bliss lies in these words! Sara Sampson, my wife! The
+half of the bliss is gone! and the other half--will go! Monster that I
+am! And with such thoughts shall I write to her father? Yet these are
+not my real thoughts, they are fancies! Cursed fancies, which have
+become natural to me through my dissolute life! I will free myself from
+them, or live no more.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                           Norton, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You disturb me, Norton!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I beg your pardon, Sir (_withdrawing again_).
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+No, no! Stay! It is just as well that you should disturb me. What do
+you want?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I have heard some very good news from Betty, and have come to wish you
+happiness.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+On the reconciliation with her father, I suppose you mean? I thank you.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+So Heaven still means to make you happy.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+If it means to do so,--you see, Norton, I am just towards myself--it
+certainly does not mean it for my sake.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+No, no; if you feel that, then it will be for your sake also.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+For my Sara's sake alone. If its vengeance, already armed, could spare
+the whole of a sinful city for the sake of a few just men, surely it
+can also bear with a sinner, when a soul in which it finds delight, is
+the sharer of his fate.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+You speak with earnestness and feeling. But does not joy express itself
+differently from this?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Joy, Norton? (_Looking sharply at him_.) For me it is gone now for
+ever.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+May I speak candidly?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You may.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+The reproach which I had to hear this morning of having made myself a
+participator in your crimes, because I had been silent about them, may
+excuse me, if I am less silent henceforth.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Only do not forget who you are!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I will not forget that I am a servant, and a servant, alas, who might
+be something better, if he had lived for it. I am your servant, it is
+true, but not so far as to wish to be damned along with you.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+With me? And why do you say that now?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Because I am not a little astonished to find you different from what I
+expected.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Will you not inform me what you expected?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+To find you all delight.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is only the common herd who are beside themselves immediately when
+luck smiles on them for once.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Perhaps, because the common herd still have the feelings which among
+greater people are corrupted and weakened by a thousand unnatural
+notions. But there is something besides moderation to be read in your
+face--coldness, irresolution, disinclination.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And if so? Have you forgotten who is here besides Sara? The presence of
+Marwood----
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Could make you anxious, I daresay, but not despondent. Something else
+troubles you. And I shall be glad to be mistaken in thinking you would
+rather that the father were not yet reconciled. The prospect of a
+position which so little suits your way of thinking----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Norton, Norton! Either you must have been, or still must be, a dreadful
+villain, that you can thus guess my thoughts. Since you have hit the
+nail upon the head, I will not deny it. It is true--so certain as it is
+that I shall love my Sara for ever so little does it please me, that I
+_must_--_must_ love her for ever! But do not fear; I shall conquer this
+foolish fancy. Or do you think that it is no fancy? Who bids me look at
+marriage as compulsion? I certainly do not wish to be freer than she
+will permit me to be.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+These reflections are all very well. But Marwood will come to the aid
+of your old prejudices, and I fear, I fear----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+That which will never happen! You shall see her go back this very
+evening to London. And as I have confessed my most secret--folly we
+will call it for the present--I must not conceal from you either, that
+I have put Marwood into such a fright that she will obey the slightest
+hint from me.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+That sounds incredible to me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Look! I snatched this murderous steel from her hand (_showing the
+dagger which he had taken from_ Marwood) when in a fearful rage she was
+on the point of stabbing me to the heart with it. Will you believe now,
+that I offered her a stout resistance? At first she well nigh succeeded
+in throwing her noose around my neck again. The traitoress!--She has
+Arabella with her.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Arabella?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I have not yet been able to fathom by what cunning she got the child
+back into her hands again. Enough, the result did not fall out as she
+no doubt had expected.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Allow me to rejoice at your firmness, and to consider your reformation
+half assured. Yet,--as you wish me to know all--what business had she
+here under the name of Lady Solmes?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+She wanted of all things to see her rival. I granted her wish partly
+from kindness, partly from rashness, partly from the desire to
+humiliate her by the sight of the best of her sex. You shake your head,
+Norton?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I should not have risked that.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Risked? I did not risk anything more, after all, than what I should
+have had to risk if I had refused her. She would have tried to obtain
+admittance as Marwood; and the worst that can be expected from her
+incognito visit is not worse than that.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Thank Heaven that it went off so quietly.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+It is not quite over yet, Norton. A slight indisposition came over her
+and compelled her to go away without taking leave. She wants to come
+again. Let her do so! The wasp which has lost its sting (_pointing to
+the dagger_) can do nothing worse than buzz. But buzzing too shall cost
+her dear, if she grows too troublesome with it. Do I not hear somebody
+coming? Leave me if it should be she. It is she. Go! (_Exit_ Norton.)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                          Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No doubt you are little pleased to see me again.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I am very pleased, Marwood, to see that your indisposition has had no
+further consequences. You are better, I hope?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+So, so.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You have not done well, then, to trouble to come here again.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I thank you, Mellefont, if you say this out of kindness to me; and I do
+not take it amiss, if you have another meaning in it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I am pleased to see you so calm.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+The storm is over. Forget it, I beg you once more.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Only remember your promise, Marwood, and I will forget everything with
+pleasure. But if I knew that you would not consider it an offence, I
+should like to ask----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Ask on, Mellefont! You cannot offend me any more. What were you going
+to ask?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How you liked my Sara?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+The question is natural. My answer will not seem so natural, but it is
+none the less true for that. I liked her very much.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Such impartiality delights me. But would it be possible for him who
+knew how to appreciate the charms of a Marwood to make a bad choice?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You ought to have spared me this flattery, Mellefont, if it is
+flattery. It is not in accordance with our intention to forget each
+other.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You surely do not wish me to facilitate this intention by rudeness? Do
+not let our separation be of an ordinary nature. Let us break with each
+other as people of reason who yield to necessity; without bitterness,
+without anger, and with the preservation of a certain degree of
+respect, as behoves our former intimacy.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Former intimacy! I do not wish to be reminded of it. No more of it.
+What must be, must, and it matters little how. But one word more about
+Arabella. You will not let me have her?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+No, Marwood!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is cruel, since you can no longer be her father, to take her mother
+also from her.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I can still be her father, and will be so.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Prove it, then, now!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+How?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Permit Arabella to have the riches which I have in keeping for you, as
+her father's inheritance. As to her mother's inheritance I wish I could
+leave her a better one than the shame of having been borne by me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do not speak so! I shall provide for Arabella without embarrassing her
+mother's property. If she wishes to forget me, she must begin by
+forgetting that she possesses anything from me. I have obligations
+towards her, and I shall never forget that really--though against her
+will--she has promoted my happiness. Yes, Marwood, in all seriousness I
+thank you for betraying our retreat to a father whose ignorance of it
+alone prevented him from receiving us again.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Do not torture me with gratitude which I never wished to deserve. Sir
+William is too good an old fool; he must think differently from what I
+should have thought in his place. I should have forgiven my daughter,
+but as to her seducer I should have----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Marwood!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+True; you yourself are the seducer! I am silent. Shall I be presently
+allowed to pay my farewell visit to Miss Sampson?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Sara could not be offended, even if you left without seeing her again.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont, I do not like playing my part by halves, and I have no wish
+to be taken, even under an assumed name, for a woman without breeding.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+If you care for your own peace of mind you ought to avoid seeing a
+person again who must awaken certain thoughts in you which----
+
+                   MARWOOD (_smiling disdainfully_).
+
+You have a better opinion of yourself than of me. But even if you
+believed that I should be inconsolable on your account, you ought at
+least to believe it in silence.--Miss Sampson would awaken certain
+thoughts in me? Certain thoughts! Oh yes; but none more certain than
+this--that the best girl can often love the most worthless man.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Charming, Marwood, perfectly charming. Now you are as I have long
+wished to see you; although I could almost have wished, as I told you
+before, that we could have retained some respect for each other. But
+this may perhaps come still when once your fermenting heart has cooled
+down. Excuse me for a moment. I will fetch Miss Sampson to see you.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       MARWOOD (_looking round_).
+
+Am I alone? Can I take breath again unobserved, and let the muscles of
+my face relax into their natural position? I must just for a moment be
+the true Marwood in all my features to be able again to bear the
+restraint of dissimulation! How I hate thee, base dissimulation! Not
+because I love sincerity, but because thou art the most pitiable refuge
+of powerless revenge. I certainly would not condescend to thee, if a
+tyrant would lend me his power or Heaven its thunderbolt.--Yet, if thou
+only servest my end! The beginning is promising, and Mellefont seems
+disposed to grow more confident. If my device succeeds and I can speak
+alone with his Sara; then-yes, then, it is still very uncertain whether
+it will be of any use to me. The truths about Mellefont will perhaps be
+no novelty to her; the calumnies she will perhaps not believe, and the
+threats, perhaps, despise. But yet she shall hear truths, calumnies and
+threats. It would be bad, if they did not leave any sting at all in her
+mind. Silence; they are coming. I am no longer Marwood, I am a
+worthless outcast, who tries by little artful tricks to turn aside her
+shame,--a bruised worm, which turns and fain would wound at least the
+heel of him who trod upon it.
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                       Sara, Mellefont, Marwood.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I am happy, Madam, that my uneasiness on your account has been
+unnecessary.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I thank you! The attack was so insignificant that it need not have made
+you uneasy.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Lady Solmes wishes to take leave of you, dearest Sara!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+So soon, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I cannot go soon enough for those who desire my presence in London.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You surely are not going to leave to-day?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+To-morrow morning, first thing.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+To-morrow morning, first thing? I thought to-day.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Our acquaintance, Madam, commences hurriedly. I hope to be honoured
+with a more intimate intercourse with you at some future time.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I solicit your friendship, Miss Sampson.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I pledge myself, dearest Sara, that this desire of Lady Solmes is
+sincere, although I must tell you beforehand that you will certainly
+not see each other again for a long time. Lady Solmes will very rarely
+be able to live where we are.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+How subtle!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+That is to deprive me of a very pleasant anticipation, Mellefont!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I shall be the greatest loser!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But in reality, Madam, do you not start before tomorrow morning?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It may be sooner! (_Aside_.) No one comes.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+We do not wish to remain much longer here either. It will be well, will
+it not, Sara, to follow our answer without delay? Sir William cannot be
+displeased with our haste.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                    Betty, Mellefont, Sara, Marwood.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What is it, Betty?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Somebody wishes to speak with you immediately.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+Ha! now all depends on whether----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Me? Immediately? I will come at once. Madam, is it agreeable to you to
+shorten your visit?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Why so, Mellefont? Lady Solmes will be so kind as to wait for your
+return.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Pardon me; I know my cousin Mellefont, and prefer to depart with him.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+The stranger, sir--he wishes only to say a word to you. He says, that
+he has not a moment to lose.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Go, please! I will be with him directly. I expect it will be some news
+at last about the agreement which I mentioned to you. (_Exit_ Betty.)
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+A good conjecture!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+But still, Madam----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you order it, then, I must bid you----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh no, Mellefont; I am sure you will not grudge me the pleasure of
+entertaining Lady Solmes during your absence?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You wish it, Sara?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not stay now, dearest Mellefont, but come back again soon! And come
+with a more joyful face, I will wish! You doubtless expect an
+unpleasant answer. Don't let this disturb you. I am more desirous to
+see whether after all you can gracefully prefer me to an inheritance,
+than I am to know that you are in the possession of one.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I obey. (_In a warning tone_.) I shall be sure to come back in a
+moment, Madam.
+
+                           MARWOOD (_aside_).
+
+Lucky so far.                                  (_Exit_ Mellefont.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                             Sara, Marwood.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+My good Mellefont sometimes gives his polite phrases quite a wrong
+accent. Do not you think so too, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am no doubt too much accustomed to his way already to notice anything
+of that sort.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Will you not take a seat, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you desire it. (_Aside, whilst they are seating themselves_.) I must
+not let this moment slip by unused.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Tell me! Shall I not be the most enviable of women with my Mellefont?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If Mellefont knows how to appreciate his happiness, Miss Sampson will
+make him the most enviable of men. But----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+A "but," and then a pause, Madam----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am frank, Miss Sampson.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And for this reason infinitely more to be esteemed.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Frank--not seldom imprudently so. My "but" is a proof of it. A very
+imprudent "but."
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not think that my Lady Solmes can wish through this evasion to
+make me more uneasy. It must be a cruel mercy that only rouses
+suspicions of an evil which it might disclose.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Not at all, Miss Sampson! You attach far too much importance to my
+"but." Mellefont is a relation of mine----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Then all the more important is the slightest charge which you have to
+make against him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But even were Mellefont my brother, I must tell you, that I should
+unhesitatingly side with one of my own sex against him, if I perceived
+that he did not act quite honestly towards her. We women ought properly
+to consider every insult shown to one of us as an insult to the whole
+sex, and to make it a common affair, in which even the sister and
+mother of the guilty one ought not to hesitate to share.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+This remark----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Has already been my guide now and then in doubtful cases.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+And promises me--I tremble.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No, Miss Sampson, if you mean to tremble, let us speak of something
+else----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Cruel woman!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I am sorry to be misunderstood. I at least, if I place myself in
+imagination in Miss Sampson's position, would regard as a favour any
+more exact information which one might give me about the man with whose
+fate I was about to unite my own for ever.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you wish, Madam? Do I not know my Mellefont already? Believe me
+I know him, as I do my own soul. I know that he loves me----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+And others----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+_Has_ loved others. That I know also. Was he to love me, before he knew
+anything about me? Can I ask to be the only one who has had charm
+enough to attract him? Must I not confess it to myself, that I have
+striven to please him? Is he not so lovable, that he must have awakened
+this endeavour in many a breast? And isn't it but natural, if several
+have been successful in their endeavour?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You defend him with just the same ardour and almost the same words with
+which I have often defended him already. It is no crime to have loved;
+much less still is it a crime to have been loved. But fickleness is a
+crime.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Not always; for often, I believe, it is rendered excusable by the
+objects of one's love, which seldom deserve to be loved for ever.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Miss Sampson's doctrine of morals does not seem to be of the strictest.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+It is true; the one by which I judge those who themselves confess that
+they have taken to bad ways is not of the strictest. Nor should it be
+so. For here it is not a question of fixing the limits which virtue
+marks out for love, but merely of excusing the human weakness that has
+not remained within those limits and of judging the consequences
+arising therefrom by the rules of wisdom. If, for example, a Mellefont
+loves a Marwood and eventually abandons her; this abandonment is very
+praiseworthy in comparison with the love itself. It would be a
+misfortune if he had to love a vicious person for ever because he once
+had loved her.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But do you know this Marwood, whom you so confidently call a vicious
+person?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I know her from Mellefont's description.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont's? Has it never occurred to you then that Mellefont must be a
+very invalid witness in his own affairs?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I see now, Madam, that you wish to put me to the test. Mellefont will
+smile, when you repeat to him how earnestly I have defended him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I beg your pardon, Miss Sampson, Mellefont must not hear anything about
+this conversation. You are of too noble a mind to wish out of gratitude
+for a well-meant warning to estrange from him a relation, who speaks
+against him only because she looks upon his unworthy behaviour towards
+more than one of the most amiable of her sex as if she herself had
+suffered from it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not wish to estrange anyone, and would that others wished it as
+little as I do.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Shall I tell you the story of Marwood in a few words?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not know. But still--yes, Madam! but under the condition that you
+stop as soon as Mellefont returns. He might think that I had inquired
+about it myself; and I should not like him to think me capable of a
+curiosity so prejudicial to him.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+I should have asked the same caution of Miss Sampson, if she had not
+anticipated me. He must not even be able to suspect that Marwood has
+been our topic; and you will be so cautious as to act in accordance
+with this. Hear now! Marwood is of good family. She was a young widow,
+when Mellefont made her acquaintance at the house of one of her
+friends. They say, that she lacked neither beauty, nor the grace
+without which beauty would be nothing. Her good name was spotless.
+One single thing was wanting. Money. Everything that she had
+possessed,--and she is said to have had considerable wealth,--she had
+sacrificed for the deliverance of a husband from whom she thought it
+right to withhold nothing, after she had willed to give him heart and
+hand.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Truly a noble trait of character, which I wish could sparkle in a
+better setting!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+In spite of her want of fortune she was sought by persons, who wished
+nothing more than to make her happy. Mellefont appeared amongst her
+rich and distinguished admirers. His offer was serious, and the
+abundance in which he promised to place Marwood was the least on which
+he relied. He knew, in their earliest intimacy, that he had not to deal
+with an egoist, but with a woman of refined feelings, who would have
+preferred to live in a hut with one she loved, than in a palace with
+one for whom she did not care.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Another trait which I grudge Miss Marwood. Do not flatter her any more,
+pray, Madam, or I might be led to pity her at last.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Mellefont was just about to unite himself with her with due solemnity,
+when he received the news of the death of a cousin who left him his
+entire fortune on the condition that he should marry a distant
+relation. As Marwood had refused richer unions for his sake, he would
+not now yield to her in generosity. He intended to tell her nothing of
+this inheritance, until he had forfeited it through her. That was
+generously planned, was it not?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh, Madam, who knows better than I, that Mellefont possesses the most
+generous of hearts?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+But what did Marwood do? She heard late one evening, through some
+friends, of Mellefont's resolution. Mellefont came in the morning to
+see her, and Marwood was gone.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Whereto? Why?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+He found nothing but a letter from her, in which she told him that he
+must not expect ever to see her again. She did not deny, though, that
+she loved him; but for this very reason she could not bring herself to
+be the cause of an act, of which he must necessarily repent some day.
+She released him from his promise, and begged him by the consummation
+of the union, demanded by the will, to enter without further delay into
+the possession of a fortune, which an honourable man could employ for a
+better purpose than the thoughtless flattery of a woman.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But, Madam, why do you attribute such noble sentiments to Marwood? Lady
+Solmes may be capable of such, I daresay, but not Marwood. Certainly
+not Marwood.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is not surprising, that you are prejudiced against her. Mellefont
+was almost distracted at Marwood's resolution. He sent people in all
+directions to search for her, and at last found her.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+No doubly because she wished to be found!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+No bitter jests! They do not become a woman of such gentle disposition.
+I say, he found her; and found her inexorable. She would not accept his
+hand on any account; and the promise to return to London was all that
+he could get from her. They agreed to postpone their marriage until his
+relative, tired of the long delay, should be compelled to propose an
+arrangement. In the meantime Marwood could not well renounce the daily
+visits from Mellefont, which for a long time were nothing but the
+respectful visits of a suitor, who has been ordered back within the
+bounds of friendship. But how impossible is it for a passionate temper
+not to transgress these bounds. Mellefont possesses everything which
+can make a man dangerous to us. Nobody can be more convinced of this
+than you yourself, Miss Sampson.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Alas!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You sigh! Marwood too has sighed more than once over her weakness, and
+sighs yet.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Enough, Madam, enough! These words I should think, are worse than the
+bitter jest which you were pleased to forbid me.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Its intention was not to offend you, but only to show you the unhappy
+Marwood in a light, in which you could most correctly judge her. To be
+brief--love gave Mellefont the rights of a husband; and Mellefont did
+not any longer consider it necessary to have them made valid by the
+law. How happy would Marwood be, if she, Mellefont, and Heaven alone
+knew of her shame! How happy if a pitiable daughter did not reveal to
+the whole world that which she would fain be able to hide from herself.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you say? A daughter----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Yes, through the intervention of Sara Sampson, an unhappy daughter
+loses all hope of ever being able to name her parents without
+abhorrence.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Terrible words! And Mellefont has concealed this from me? Am I to
+believe it, Madam?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+You may assuredly believe that Mellefont has perhaps concealed still
+more from you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Still more? What more could he have concealed from me?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+This,--that he still loves Marwood.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You will kill me!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+It is incredible that a love which has lasted more than ten years can
+die away so quickly. It may certainly suffer a short eclipse, but
+nothing but a short one, from which it breaks forth again with renewed
+brightness. I could name to you a Miss Oclaff, a Miss Dorcas, a Miss
+Moore, and several others, who one after another threatened to alienate
+from Marwood the man by whom they eventually saw themselves most
+cruelly deceived. There is a certain point beyond which he cannot go,
+and as soon as he gets face to face with it he draws suddenly back. But
+suppose, Miss Sampson, you were the one fortunate woman in whose case
+all circumstances declared themselves against him; suppose you
+succeeded in compelling him to conquer the disgust of a formal yoke
+which has now become innate to him; do you then expect to make sure of
+his heart in this way?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Miserable girl that I am! What must I hear?
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Nothing less than that! He would then hurry back all the more into the
+arms of her who had not been so jealous of his liberty. You would be
+called his wife and she would be it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not torment me longer with such dreadful pictures! Advise me rather,
+Madam, I pray you, advise me what to do. You must know him! You must
+know by what means it may still be possible to reconcile him with a
+bond without which even the most sincere love remains an unholy
+passion.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+That one can catch a bird, I well know; but that one can render its
+cage more pleasant than the open field, I do not know. My advice,
+therefore, would be that one should rather not catch it, and should
+spare oneself the vexation of the profitless trouble. Content yourself,
+young lady, with the pleasure of having seen him very near your net;
+and as you can foresee, that he would certainly tear it if you tempted
+him in altogether, spare your net and do not tempt him in.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not know whether I rightly understand your playful parable----
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+If you are vexed with it, you have understood it. In one word. Your own
+interest as well as that of another--wisdom as well as justice, can,
+and must induce Miss Sampson to renounce her claims to a man to whom
+Marwood has the first and strongest claim. You are still in such a
+position with regard to him that you can withdraw, I will not say with
+much honour, but still without public disgrace. A short disappearance
+with a lover is a stain, it is true; but still a stain which time
+effaces. In some years all will be forgotten, and for a rich heiress
+there are always men to be found, who are not so scrupulous. If Marwood
+were in such a position, and she needed no husband for her fading
+charms nor father for her helpless daughter, I am sure she would act
+more generously towards Miss Sampson than Miss Sampson acts towards her
+when raising these dishonourable difficulties.
+
+                        SARA (_rising angrily_).
+
+This is too much! Is that the language of a relative of Mellefont's?
+How shamefully you are betrayed, Mellefont! Now I perceive, Madam, why
+he was so unwilling to leave you alone with me. He knows already, I
+daresay, how much one has to fear from your tongue. A poisoned tongue!
+I speak boldly--for your unseemly talk has continued long enough. How
+has Marwood been able to enlist such a mediator; a mediator who summons
+all her ingenuity to force upon me a dazzling romance about her; und
+employs every art to rouse my suspicion against the loyalty of a man,
+who is a man but not a monster? Was it only for this that I was told
+that Marwood boasted of a daughter from him; only for this that I was
+told of this and that forsaken girl--in order that you might be enabled
+to hint to me in cruel fashion that I should do well if I gave place to
+a hardened strumpet!
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+Not so passionate, if you please, young lady! A hardened strumpet? You
+are surely using words whose full meaning you have not considered.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Does she not appear such, even from Lady Solmes's description? Well,
+Madam, you are her friend, perhaps her intimate friend. I do not say
+this as a reproach, for it may well be that it is hardly possible in
+this world to have virtuous friends only. Yet why should I be so
+humiliated for the sake of this friendship of yours? If I had had
+Marwood's experience, I should certainly not have committed the error
+which places me on such a humiliating level with her. But if I had
+committed it, I should certainly not have continued in it for ten
+years. It is one thing to fall into vice from ignorance; and another to
+grow intimate with it when you know it. Alas, Madam, if you knew what
+regret, what remorse, what anxiety my error has cost me! My error, I
+say, for why shall I be so cruel to myself any longer, and look upon it
+as a crime? Heaven itself ceases to consider it such; it withdraws my
+punishment, and gives me back my father.--But I am frightened, Madam;
+how your features are suddenly transformed! They glow-rage speaks from
+the fixed eye, and the quivering movement of the mouth. Ah, if I have
+vexed you, Madam, I beg for pardon! I am a foolish, sensitive creature;
+what you have said was doubtless not meant so badly. Forget my
+rashness! How can I pacify you? How can I also gain a friend in you as
+Marwood has done? Let me, let me entreat you on my knees (_falling down
+upon her knees_) for your friendship, and if I cannot have this, at
+least for the justice not to place me and Marwood in one and the same
+rank.
+
+    MARWOOD (_proudly stepping back and leaving Sara on her knees_).
+
+This position of Sara Sampson is too charming for Marwood to triumph in
+it unrecognised. In me, Miss Sampson, behold the Marwood with whom on
+your knees you beg--Marwood herself--not to compare you.
+
+           SARA (_springing up and drawing back in terror_).
+
+You Marwood? Ha! Now I recognise her--now I recognise the murderous
+deliverer, to whose dagger a warning dream exposed me. It is she! Away,
+unhappy Sara! Save me, Mellefont; save your beloved! And thou, sweet
+voice of my beloved father, call! Where does it call? Whither shall I
+hasten to it?--here?--there?--Help, Mellefont! Help, Betty! Now she
+approaches me with murderous hand! Help! (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                                MARWOOD.
+
+What does the excitable girl mean? Would that she spake the truth, and
+that I approached her with murderous hand! I ought to have spared the
+dagger until now, fool that I was! What delight to be able to stab a
+rival at one's feet in her voluntary humiliation! What now? I am
+detected. Mellefont may be here this minute. Shall I fly from him?
+Shall I await him? I will wait, but not in idleness. Perhaps the
+cunning of my servant will detain him long enough? I see I am feared.
+Why do I not follow her then? Why do I not try the last expedient which
+I can use against her? Threats are pitiable weapons; but despair
+despises no weapons, however pitiable they may be. A timid girl, who
+flies stupid and terror-stricken from my mere name, can easily take
+dreadful words for dreadful deeds. But Mellefont! Mellefont will give
+her fresh courage, and teach her to scorn my threats. He will! Perhaps
+he will not! Few things would have been undertaken in this world, if
+men had always looked to the end. And am I not prepared for the most
+fatal end? The dagger was for others, the drug is for me! The drug
+for me! Long carried by me near my heart, it here awaits its sad
+service; here, where in better times I hid the written flatteries of my
+lovers,--poison for us equally sure if slower. Would it were not
+destined to rage in my veins only! Would that a faithless one--why do I
+waste my time in wishing? Away! I must not recover my reason nor she
+hers. He will dare nothing, who wishes to dare in cold blood!
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT V.
+
+
+                                Scene I.
+
+                             Sara's _room_.
+
+               Sara (_reclining in an armchair_), Betty.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Do you feel a little better, Miss?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Better--I wish only that Mellefont would return! You have sent for him,
+have you not?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Norton and the landlord have gone for him.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Norton is a good fellow, but he is rash. I do not want him by any means
+to be rude to his master on my account. According to his story,
+Mellefont is innocent of all this. She follows him; what can he do? She
+storms, she raves, she tries to murder him. Do you see, Betty, I have
+exposed him to this danger? Who else but me? And the wicked Marwood at
+last insisted on seeing me or she would not return to London. Could he
+refuse her this trifling request? Have not I too often been curious to
+see Marwood. Mellefont knows well that we are curious creatures. And if
+I had not insisted myself that she should remain with me until his
+return, he would have taken her away with him. I should have seen her
+under a false name, without knowing that I had seen her. And I should
+perhaps have been pleased with this little deception at some future
+time. In short, it is all my fault. Well, well, I was frightened;
+nothing more! The swoon was nothing. You know, Betty, I am subject to
+such fits.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+But I had never seen you in so deep a swoon before.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Do not tell me so, please! I must have caused you a great deal of
+trouble, my good girl.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Marwood herself seemed moved by your danger. In spite of all I could do
+she would not leave the room, until you had opened your eyes a little
+and I could give you the medicine.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+After all I must consider it fortunate that I swooned. For who knows
+what more I should have had to hear from her! She certainly can hardly
+have followed me into my room without a purpose! You cannot imagine how
+terrified I was. The dreadful dream I had last night recurred to me
+suddenly, and I fled, like an insane woman who does not know why and
+whither she flies. But Mellefont does not come. Ah!
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What a sigh, Miss! What convulsions!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+God! what sensation was this----
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What was that?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Nothing, Betty! A pain! Not one pain, a thousand burning pains in one!
+But do not be uneasy; it is over now!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                          Norton, Sara, Betty.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Mellefont will be here in a moment.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+That is well, Norton! But where did you find him?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+A stranger had enticed him beyond the town gate, where he said a
+gentleman waited for him, to speak with him about matters of the
+greatest importance. After taking him from place to place for a long
+time, the swindler slunk away from him. It will be bad for him if he
+lets himself be caught; Mellefont is furious.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Did you tell him what has happened?
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+All.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+But in such a way!----
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+I could not think about the way. Enough! He knows what anxiety his
+imprudence has again caused you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Not so, Norton; I have caused it myself.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Why may Mellefont never be in the wrong? Come in, sir; love has already
+excused you.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    Mellefont, Norton, Sara, Betty.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ah, Sara! If this love of yours were not----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Then I should certainly be the unhappier of the two. If nothing more
+vexatious has happened to you in your absence than to me, I am happy.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I have not deserved to be so kindly received.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let my weakness be my excuse, that I do not receive you more tenderly.
+If only for your sake, I would that I was well again.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Ha! Marwood! this treachery too! The scoundrel who led me with a
+mysterious air from one street to another can assuredly have been a
+messenger of her only! See, dearest Sara, she employed this artifice to
+get me away from you. A clumsy artifice certainly, but just from its
+very clumsiness, I was far from taking it for one. She shall have her
+reward for this treachery! Quick, Norton, go to her lodgings; do not
+lose sight of her, and detain her until I come!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What for, Mellefont? I intercede for Marwood.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Go!                                               (_Exit_ Norton.)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                        Sara, Mellefont, Betty.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Pray let the wearied enemy who has ventured the last fruitless assault
+retire in peace! Without Marwood I should be ignorant of much----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Much? What is the "much?"
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What you would not have told me, Mellefont! You start! Well, I will
+forget it again, since you do not wish me to know it.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I hope that you will not believe any ill of me which has no better
+foundation than the jealousy of an angry slanderer.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+More of this another time! But why do you not tell me first of all
+about the danger in which your precious life was placed? I, Mellefont,
+I should have been the one who had sharpened the sword, with which
+Marwood had stabbed you.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The danger was not so great. Marwood was driven by blind passion, and I
+was cool, so her attack could not but fail. I only wish that she may
+not have been more successful with another attack--upon Sara's good
+opinion of her Mellefont! I must almost fear it. No, dearest Sara, do
+not conceal from me any longer what you have learned from her.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Well! If I had still had the least doubt of your love, Mellefont,
+Marwood in her anger would have removed it. She surely must feel that
+through me she has lost that which is of the greatest value to her; for
+an uncertain loss would have let her act more cautiously.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+I shall soon learn to set some store by her bloodthirsty jealousy, her
+impetuous insolence, her treacherous cunning! But Sara! You wish again
+to evade my question and not to reveal to me----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I will; and what I said was indeed a step towards it. That Mellefont
+loves me, then, is undeniably certain. If only I had not discovered
+that his love lacked a certain confidence, which would be as flattering
+to me as his love itself. In short, dearest Mellefont--Why does a
+sudden anxiety make it so difficult for me to speak?--Well, I suppose I
+shall have to tell it without seeking for the most prudent form in
+which to say it. Marwood mentioned a pledge of love; and the talkative
+Norton--forgive him, pray--told me a name--a name, Mellefont, which
+must rouse in you another tenderness than that which you feel for me.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Is it possible? Has the shameless woman confessed her own disgrace?
+Alas, Sara, have pity on my confusion! Since you already know all, why
+do you wish to hear it again from my lips? She shall never come into
+your sight,--the unhappy child, who has no other fault than that of
+having such a mother.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+You love her, then, in spite of all?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Too much, Sara, too much for me to deny it.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Ah, Mellefont! How I too love you, for this very love's sake! You would
+have offended me deeply, if you had denied the sympathy of your blood
+for any scruples on my account. You have hurt me already in that you
+have threatened me never to let her come into my sight. No, Mellefont!
+That you will never forsake Arabella must be one of the promises which
+you vow to me in presence of the Almighty! In the hands of her mother
+she is in danger of becoming unworthy of her father. Use your authority
+over both, and let me take the place of Marwood. Do not refuse me the
+happiness of bringing up for myself a friend who owes her life to
+you--a Mellefont of my own sex. Happy days, when my father, when you,
+when Arabella will vie in your calls on my filial respect, my confiding
+love, my watchful friendship. Happy days! But, alas! They are still far
+distant in the future. And perhaps even the future knows nothing of
+them, perhaps they exist only in my own desire for happiness!
+Sensations, Mellefont, sensations which I never before experienced,
+turn my eyes to another prospect. A dark prospect, with awful shadows!
+What sensations are these? (_puts her hand before her face_.)
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What sudden change from exultation to terror! Hasten, Betty! Bring
+help! What ails you, generous Sara! Divine soul! Why does this jealous
+hand (_moving it away_) hide these sweet looks from me? Ah, they are
+looks which unwillingly betray cruel pain. And yet this hand is jealous
+to hide these looks from me. Shall I not share your pain with you?
+Unhappy man, that I can only share it--that I may not feel it alone!
+Hasten, Betty!
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Whither shall I hasten?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You see, and yet ask? For help!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Stay. It passes over. I will not frighten you again, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What has happened to her, Betty? These are not merely the results of a
+swoon.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                    Norton, Mellefont, Sara, Betty.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You are back again already, Norton? That is well! You will be of more
+use here.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Marwood is gone----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+And my curses follow her! She is gone? Whither? May misfortune and
+death, and, were it possible, a whole hell lie in her path! May Heaven
+thunder a consuming fire upon her, may the earth burst open under her,
+and swallow the greatest of female monsters!
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+As soon as she returned to her lodgings, she threw herself into her
+carriage, together with Arabella and her maid, and hurried away, at
+full gallop. This sealed note was left behind for you.
+
+                     MELLEFONT (_taking the note_).
+
+It is addressed to me. Shall I read it, Sara?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+When you are calmer, Mellefont.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Calmer? Can I be calmer, before I have revenged myself on her, and
+before I know that you are out of danger, dearest Sara?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let me not hear of revenge! Revenge is not ours.--But you open the
+letter? Alas, Mellefont! Why are we less prone to certain virtues with
+a healthy body, which feels its strength, than with a sick and wearied
+one? How hard are gentleness and moderation to you, and how unnatural
+to me appears the impatient heat of passion! Keep the contents for
+yourself alone.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What spirit is it that seems to compel me to disobey you? I opened it
+against my will, and against my will I must read it!
+
+             SARA (_whilst_ Mellefont _reads to himself_).
+
+How cunningly man can disunite his nature, and make of his passions
+another being than himself, on whom he can lay the blame for that which
+in cold blood he disapproves.--The water, Betty! I fear another shock,
+and shall need it. Do you see what effect the unlucky note has on him?
+Mellefont! You lose your senses, Mellefont! God! he is stunned! Here,
+Betty. Hand him the water! He needs it more than I.
+
+                  MELLEFONT (_pushing_ Betty _back_).
+
+Back, unhappy girl! Your medicines are poison!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you say? Recover yourself! You do not recognise her.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+I am Betty,--take it!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Wish rather, unhappy girl, that you were not she! Quick! Fly, before in
+default of the guiltier one you become the guilty victim of my rage.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What words! Mellefont, dearest Mellefont----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+The last "dearest Mellefont" from these divine lips, and then no more
+for ever! At your feet, Sara----(_throwing himself down_). But why at
+your feet? (_springing up again_). Disclose it? I disclose it to you?
+Yes! I will tell you, that you will hate me, that you must hate me! You
+shall not hear the contents, no, not from me. But you will hear them.
+You will----Why do you all stand here, stock still, doing nothing?
+Run, Norton, bring all the doctors? Seek help, Betty! Let your help be
+as effective as your error! No, stop here! I will go myself----
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Whither, Mellefont? Help for what? Of what error do you speak?
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Divine help, Sara! or inhuman revenge! You are lost, dearest Sara! I
+too am lost! Would the world were lost with us!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                          Sara, Norton, Betty.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+He is gone! I am lost? What does he mean? Do you understand him,
+Norton? I am ill, very ill; but suppose the worst, that I must die, am
+I therefore lost? And why does he blame you, poor Betty? You wring your
+hands? Do not grieve; you cannot have offended him; he will bethink
+himself; Had he only done as I wished, and not read the note! He could
+have known that it must contain the last poisoned words from Marwood.
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+What terrible suspicion! No, it cannot be. I do not believe it!
+
+         NORTON (_who has gone towards the back of the stage_).
+
+Your father's old servant, Miss.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Let him come in, Norton.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Waitwell, Sara, Betty, Norton.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I suppose you are anxious for my answer, dear Waitwell. It is ready
+except a few lines. But why so alarmed? They must have told you that I
+am ill.
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+And more still.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dangerously ill? I conclude so from Mellefont's passionate anxiety
+more than from my own feelings. Suppose, Waitwell, you should have
+to go with an unfinished letter from your unhappy Sara to her still
+more unhappy father! Let us hope for the best! Will you wait until
+to-morrow? Perhaps I shall find a few good moments to finish off the
+letter to your satisfaction. At present, I cannot do so. This hand
+hangs as if dead by my benumbed side. If the whole body dies away as
+easily as these limbs----you are an old man, Waitwell, and cannot be
+far from the last scene. Believe me, if that which I feel is the
+approach of death, then the approach of death is not so bitter. Ah! Do
+not mind this sigh! Wholly without unpleasant sensation it cannot be.
+Man could not be void of feeling; he must not be impatient. But, Betty,
+why are you so inconsolable?
+
+                                 BETTY.
+
+Permit me, Miss, permit me to leave you.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Go; I well know it is not every one who can bear to be with the dying.
+Waitwell shall remain with me! And you, Norton, will do me a favour, if
+you go and look for your master. I long for his presence.
+
+                            BETTY (_going_).
+
+Alas, Norton, I took the medicine from Marwood's hands!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                            Waitwell, Sara.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Waitwell, if you will do me the kindness to remain with me, you must
+not let me see such a melancholy face. You are mute! Speak, I pray! And
+if I may ask it, speak of my father! Repeat all the comforting words
+which you said to me a few hours ago. Repeat them to me, and tell me
+too, that the Eternal Heavenly Father cannot be less merciful. I can
+die with that assurance, can I not? Had this befallen me before your
+arrival, how would I have fared? I should have despaired, Waitwell. To
+leave this world burdened with the hatred of him, who belies his
+nature when he is forced to hate--what a thought! Tell him that I died
+with the feelings of the deepest remorse, gratitude and love. Tell
+him--alas, that I shall not tell him myself--how full my heart is of
+all the benefits I owe to him. My life was the smallest amongst them.
+Would that I could yield up at his feet the ebbing portion yet
+remaining!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Do you really wish to see him, Miss?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+At length you speak--to doubt my deepest, my last desire!
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Where shall I find the words which I have so long been vainly seeking?
+A sudden joy is as dangerous as a sudden terror. I fear only that the
+effect of his unexpected appearance might be too violent for so tender
+a heart!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+What do you mean? The unexpected appearance of whom?
+
+                               WAITWELL.
+
+Of the wished-for one! Compose yourself!
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                  Sir William Sampson, Sara, Waitwell.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+You stay too long, Waitwell! I must see her!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Whose voice----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Oh, my daughter!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Oh, my father! Help me to rise, Waitwell, help me to rise that I may
+throw myself at his feet, (_she endeavours to rise and falls back again
+into the arm-chair_). Is it he, or is it an apparition sent from heaven
+like the angel who came to strengthen the Strong One? Bless me, whoever
+thou art, whether a messenger from the Highest in my father's form or
+my father himself!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+God bless thee, my daughter! Keep quiet (_she tries again to throw
+herself at his feet_). Another time, when you have regained your
+strength, I shall not be displeased to see you clasp my faltering
+knees.
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Now, my father, or never! Soon I shall be no more! I shall be only too
+happy if I still have a few moments to reveal my heart to you. But not
+moments--whole days--another life, would be necessary to tell all that
+a guilty, chastened and repentant daughter can say to an injured but
+generous and loving father. My offence, and your forgiveness----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not reproach yourself for your weakness, nor give me credit for that
+which is only my duty. When you remind me of my pardon, you remind me
+also of my hesitation in granting it. Why did I not forgive you at
+once? Why did I reduce you to the necessity of flying from me. And this
+very day, when I had already forgiven you, what was it that forced me
+to wait first for an answer from you? I could already have enjoyed a
+whole day with you if I had hastened at once to your arms. Some latent
+spleen must still have lain in the innermost recesses of my
+disappointed heart, that I wished first to be assured of the
+continuance of your love before I gave you mine again. Ought a father
+to act so selfishly? Ought we only to love those who love us? Chide me,
+dearest Sara! Chide me! I thought more of my own joy in you than of you
+yourself. And if I were now to lose this joy? But who, then, says that
+I must lose it? You will live; you will still live long. Banish all
+these black thoughts! Mellefont magnifies the danger. He put the whole
+house in an uproar, and hurried away himself to fetch the doctors, whom
+he probably will not find in this miserable place. I saw his passionate
+anxiety, his hopeless sorrow, without being seen by him. Now I know
+that he loves you sincerely; now I do not grudge him you any longer. I
+will wait here for him and lay your hand in his. What I would otherwise
+have done only by compulsion, I now do willingly, since I see how dear
+you are to him. Is it true that it was Marwood herself who caused you
+this terror? I could understand this much from your Betty's
+lamentations, but nothing more. But why do I inquire into the causes of
+your illness, when I ought only to be thinking how to remedy it. I see
+you growing fainter every moment, I see it and stand helplessly here.
+What shall I do, Waitwell? Whither shall I run? What shall I give her?
+My fortune? My life? Speak!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Dearest father! all help would be in vain! The dearest help, purchased
+with your life, would be of no avail.
+
+
+                                Scene X.
+
+                Mellefont, Sara, Sir William, Waitwell.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Do I dare to set my foot again in this room? Is she still alive?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Step nearer, Mellefont!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Am I to see your face again? No, Sara; I return without consolation,
+without help. Despair alone brings me back. But whom do I see? You,
+Sir? Unhappy father! You have come to a dreadful scene! Why did you not
+come sooner? You are too late to save your daughter! But, be comforted!
+You shall not have come too late to see yourself revenged.
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Do not remember in this moment, Mellefont, that we have ever been at
+enmity! We are so no more, and we shall never be so again. Only keep my
+daughter for me, and you shall keep a wife for yourself.
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Make me a god, and then repeat your prayer! I have brought so many
+misfortunes to you already, Sara, that I need not hesitate to announce
+the last one. You must die! And do you know by whose hand you die?
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+I do not wish to know it--that I can suspect it is already too much----
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+You must know it, for who could be assured that you did not suspect
+wrongly? Marwood writes thus: (_he reads_) "When you read this letter,
+Mellefont, your infidelity will already be punished in its cause. I had
+made myself known to her and she had swooned with terror. Betty did her
+utmost to restore her to consciousness. I saw her taking out a
+soothing-powder, and the happy idea occurred to me of exchanging it for
+a poisonous one. I feigned to be moved, and anxious to help her, and
+prepared the draught myself. I saw it given to her, and went away
+triumphant. Revenge and rage have made me a murderess; but I will not
+be like a common murderess who does not venture to boast of her deed. I
+am on my way to Dover; you can pursue me, and let my own handwriting
+bear witness against me. If I reach the harbour unpursued I will leave
+Arabella behind unhurt. Till then I shall look upon her as a hostage,
+Marwood." Now you know all, Sara! Here, Sir, preserve this paper! You
+must bring the murderess to punishment, and for this it is
+indispensable.--How motionless he stands!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Give me this paper, Mellefont! I will convince myself with my own eyes
+(_he hands it to her and she looks at it for a moment_). Shall I still
+have sufficient strength? (_tears it_.)
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+What are you doing, Sara!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+Marwood will not escape her fate; but neither you nor my father shall
+be her accusers. I die, and forgive the hand through which God chastens
+me. Alas, my father, what gloomy grief has taken hold of you? I love
+you still, Mellefont, and if loving you is a crime, how guilty shall I
+enter yonder world! Would I might hope, dearest father, that you would
+receive a son in place of a daughter! And with him you will have a
+daughter too, if you will acknowledge Arabella as such. You must fetch
+her back, Mellefont; her mother may escape. Since my father loves me,
+why should I not be allowed to deal with this love as with a legacy? I
+bequeath this fatherly love to you and Arabella. Speak now and then to
+her of a friend from whose example she may learn to be on her guard
+against love. A last blessing, my father!--Who would venture to judge
+the ways of the Highest?--Console your master, Waitwell! But you too
+stand there in grief and despair, you who lose in me neither a lover
+nor a daughter?
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+We ought to be giving you courage, and your dying eyes are giving it to
+us. No more, my earthly daughter--half angel already; of what avail can
+the blessing of a mourning father be to a spirit upon whom all the
+blessings of heaven flow? Leave me a ray of the light which raises you
+so far above everything human. Or pray to God, who hears no prayer so
+surely as that of a pious and departing soul--pray to Him that this day
+may be the last of my life also!
+
+                                 SARA.
+
+God must let the virtue which has been tested remain long in this world
+as an example; only the weak virtue which would perhaps succumb to too
+many temptations is quickly raised above the dangerous confines of the
+earth. For whom do these tears flow, my father? They fall like fiery
+drops upon my heart; and yet--yet they are less terrible to me than
+mute despair. Conquer it, Mellefont!--My eyes grow dim.--That sigh was
+the last! But where is Betty?--Now I understand the wringing of her
+hands.--Poor girl!--Let no one reproach her with carelessness, it
+is excused by a heart without falsehood, and without suspicion of
+it.--The moment is come! Mellefont--my father--(_dies_).
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+She dies! Ah, let me kiss this cold hand once more (_throwing himself
+at her feet_). No! I will not venture to touch her. The old saying that
+the body of the slain bleeds at the touch of the murderer, frightens
+me. And who is her murderer? Am I not he, more than Marwood? (_rises_)
+She is dead now, Sir; she does not hear us any more. Curse me now. Vent
+your grief in well-deserved curses. May none of them miss their mark,
+and may the most terrible be fulfilled twofold! Why do you remain
+silent? She is dead! She is certainly dead. Now, again, I am nothing
+but Mellefont! I am no more the lover of a tender daughter, whom you
+would have reason to spare in him. What is that? I do not want your
+compassionate looks! This is your daughter! I am her seducer. Bethink
+yourself, Sir! In what way can I rouse your anger? This budding beauty,
+who was yours alone, became my prey! For my sake her innocent virtue
+was abandoned! For my sake she tore herself from the arms of a beloved
+father! For my sake she had to die! You make me impatient with your
+forbearance, Sir! Let me see that you are a father!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+I am a father, Mellefont, and am too much a father not to respect the
+last wish of my daughter. Let me embrace you, my son, for whom I could
+not have paid a higher price!
+
+                               MELLEFONT.
+
+Not so, Sir! This angel enjoined more than human nature is capable of!
+You cannot be my father. Behold, Sir (_drawing the dagger from his
+bosom_), this is the dagger which Marwood drew upon me to-day. To my
+misfortune, I disarmed her. Had I fallen a guilty victim of her
+jealousy, Sara would still be living. You would have your daughter
+still, and have her without Mellefont. It is not for me to undo what is
+done--but to punish myself for it is still in my power! (_he stabs
+himself and sinks down at_ Sara's _side_.)
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+Hold him, Waitwell! What new blow upon my stricken head! Oh, would that
+my own might make the third dying heart here.
+
+                          MELLEFONT (_dying_).
+
+I feel it. I have not struck false. If now you will call me your son
+and press my hand as such, I shall die in peace. (Sir William _embraces
+him_.) You have heard of an Arabella, for whom Sara pleaded; I should
+also plead for her; but she is Marwood's child as well as mine. What
+strange feeling seizes me? Mercy--O Creator, mercy!
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+If the prayers of others are now of any avail, Waitwell, let us help
+him to pray for this mercy! He dies! Alas! He was more to pity than to
+blame.
+
+
+                               Scene XI.
+
+                          Norton, The Others.
+
+                                NORTON.
+
+Doctors, Sir!----
+
+                              SIR WILLIAM.
+
+If they can work miracles, they may come in! Let me no longer remain at
+this deadly spectacle! One grave shall enclose both. Come and make
+immediate preparations, and then let us think of Arabella. Be she who
+she may, she is a legacy of my daughter! (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+                         A TRAGEDY IN ONE ACT.
+
+
+Philotos was written at Berlin in the year 1759. It was never
+represented, and was probably not intended for the stage. It is here
+translated for the first time into English.
+
+
+
+
+                            DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+      Aridaeus, _the King_.
+      Strato, _a General of_ Aridaeus.
+      Philotas, _a prisoner_.
+      Parmenio, _a soldier_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+
+                                Scene I.
+
+         _The scene is laid in a tent in the camp of_ Aridaeus.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Am I really a prisoner? A prisoner? A worthy commencement this of my
+apprenticeship in war. O ye gods! O my father! How gladly would I
+persuade myself that all was but a dream! My earliest years have never
+dreamt of anything but arms and camps, battles and assaults. Could not
+the youth too be dreaming now of loss and defeat? Do not delude thyself
+thus, Philotas!--If I did not see, did not feel the wound through which
+the sword dropped from my palsied hand.--They have dressed it for me
+against my will! O cruel mercy of a cunning foe! "It is not mortal,"
+said the surgeon, and thought to console me. Wretch, it should be
+mortal! And one wound only, only one! Did I know that I should make it
+mortal by tearing it open and dressing it and tearing it open again.--I
+rave, unhappy wretch. And with what a scornful face--I now recall
+it--that aged warrior looked at me--who snatched me from my horse! He
+called me--child! His king, too, must take me for a child, a pampered
+child. To what a tent he has had me brought! Adorned and provided with
+comforts of every sort! It must belong to one of his mistresses! A
+disgusting place for a soldier! And instead of being guarded, I am
+served. O mocking civility!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                           Strato. Philotas.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince--
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Another visitor already? Old man, I like to be alone!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince! I come by order of the king.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I understand you! It is true, I am the king's prisoner, and it rests
+with him how he will have me treated. But listen: if you are the man
+whose features you bear,--if you are an old and honest warrior, have
+pity on me, and beg the king to have me treated as a soldier, not as a
+woman.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+He will be with you directly; I come to announce his approach.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+The king with me? And you come to announce him? I do not wish that he
+should spare me one of the humiliations to which a prisoner must
+submit. Come, lead me to him! After the disgrace of having been
+disarmed, nothing is disgraceful to me now.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince! Your countenance, so full of youthful graces, bespeaks a softer
+heart!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Mock not my countenance! Your visage, full of scars, is assuredly a
+more handsome face.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+By the gods! A grand answer! I must admire and love you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I would not object if only you had feared me first.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+More and more heroic! We have the most terrible of enemies before us,
+if there are many like Philotas amongst his youths.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Do not flatter me! To become terrible to you, they must combine greater
+deeds with my thoughts. May I know your name?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Strato.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Strato? The brave Strato, who defeated my father on the Lycus?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Do not recall that doubtful victory! And how bloodily did your father
+revenge himself in the plain of Methymna! Such a father must needs have
+such a son.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+To you, the worthiest of my father's enemies, I may bewail my fate! You
+only can fully understand me; you too, you too have been consumed in
+your youth by the ambition of the glory--the glory of bleeding for your
+native land. Would you otherwise be what you are? How have I not
+begged, implored, conjured him--my father these seven days--for only
+seven days has the manly toga covered me--conjured him seven times on
+each of these seven days upon my knees to grant me that I should not in
+vain have outgrown my childhood,--to let me go with his warriors who
+had long cost me many a tear of jealousy. Yesterday I prevailed on him,
+the best of fathers, for Aristodem assisted my entreaties. You know
+Aristodem; he is my father's Strato.--"Give me this youth, my king, to
+go with me to-morrow," spoke Aristodem, "I am going to scour the
+mountains, in order to keep open the way to Caesena." "Would I could
+accompany you!" sighed my father. He still lies sick from his wounds.
+"But be it so!" and with these words he embraced me. Ah, what did his
+happy son feel in that embrace! And the night which followed! I did not
+close my eyes; and yet dreams of glory and victory kept me on my couch
+until the second watch. Then I sprang up, threw on my new armour,
+pushed the uncurled hair beneath the helmet, chose from amongst my
+father's swords the one which matched my strength, mounted my horse and
+had tired out one already before the silver trumpet awakened the chosen
+band. They came, and I spoke with each of my companions, and many a
+brave warrior there pressed me to his scarred breast. Only with my
+father I did not speak; for I feared he might retract his word, if he
+should see me again. Then we marched. By the side of the immortal gods
+one cannot feel happier than did I by the side of Aristodem. At every
+encouraging glance from him I would have attacked a host alone, and
+thrown myself on the certain death of the enemy's swords. In quiet
+determination I rejoiced at every hill, from which I hoped to discern
+the enemy in the plain below, at every bend of the valley behind which
+I flattered myself that we should come upon them. And when at last I
+saw them rushing down upon us from the woody height,--showed them to my
+companions with the point of my sword,--flew up the mountain towards
+them, recall, O renowned warrior, the happiest of your youthful
+ecstasies, you could never have been happier. But now, now behold me,
+Strato; behold me ignominiously fallen from the summit of my lofty
+expectations! O how I shudder to repeat this fall again in thought! I
+had rushed too far in advance; I was wounded, and--imprisoned!
+Poor youth, thou hadst prepared thyself only for wounds, only for
+death,--and thou art made a prisoner! Thus always do the gods, in their
+severity, send only unforeseen evils to stultify our self-complacency.
+I weep--I must weep, although I fear to be despised for it by you. But
+despise me not! You turn away?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+I am vexed: you should not move me thus. I become a child with you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+No; hear why I weep! It is no childish weeping which you deign to
+accompany with your manly tears. What I thought my greatest happiness,
+the tender love with which my father loves me, will now become my
+greatest misery. I fear, I fear he loves me more than he loves his
+empire! What will he not sacrifice, what will not your king exact from
+him, to rescue me from prison! Through me, wretched youth, will he lose
+in one day more than he has gained in three long toilsome years with
+the blood of his noble warriors, with his own blood. With what face
+shall I appear again before him? I, his worst enemy! And my father's
+subjects--mine at some future day, if I had made myself worthy to rule
+them. How will they be able to endure the ransomed prince amongst them
+without contemptuous scorn. And when I die for shame, and creep
+unmourned to the shades below, how gloomy and proud will pass by the
+souls of those heroes who for their king had to purchase with their
+lives those gains, which, as a father, he renounces for an unworthy
+son! Oh, that is more than a feeling heart can endure!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Be comforted, dear prince! It is the fault of youth always to think
+itself more happy or less than it really is. Your fate is not so cruel
+yet;--the king approaches, you will hear more consolation from his
+lips.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    King Aridaeus, Philotas, Strato.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+The wars which kings are forced to wage together are no personal
+quarrels. Let me embrace you, prince! Ah what happy days your blooming
+youth recalls to me! Thus bloomed your father's youth! This was his
+open, speaking eye; these his earnest, honest features; this his noble
+bearing! Let me embrace you again; in you I embrace your younger
+father. Have you never heard from him, prince, what good friends we
+were at your age? That was the blessed age, when we could still abandon
+ourselves to our feelings without restraint. But soon we were both
+called to the throne, and the anxious king, the jealous neighbour,
+stifled, alas, the willing friend.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Pardon me, O king, if you find me too cold in my reply to such sweet
+words. My youth has been taught to think, but not to speak. What can it
+now aid me, that you and my father once were friends? Were! so you say
+yourself. The hatred which one grafts on an extinguished friendship
+bears the most deadly fruit of all; or I still know the human heart too
+little. Do not, therefore, O king, do not prolong my despair. You have
+spoken as the polished statesman: speak now as the monarch, who has the
+rival of his greatness completely in: his power.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+O king, do not let him be tormented longer by the uncertainty of his
+fate!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I thank you, Strato! Yes, let me hear at once, I beg you, how
+despicable you will render an unfortunate son in his father's eyes.
+With what disgraceful peace, with how many lands shall he redeem him?
+How small and contemptible shall he become, in order to regain his
+child? O my father!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+This early, manly language too, prince, was your father's! I like to
+hear you speak thus. And would that my son, no less worthy of me, spoke
+thus before your father now.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What mean you by that?
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+The gods--I am convinced of it--watch over our virtue, as they watch
+over our lives. To preserve both as long as possible is their secret
+and eternal work. Where is the mortal who knows how wicked he is at
+heart,--how viciously he would act, if they allowed free scope to each
+treacherous inducement to disgrace himself by little deeds! Yes,
+prince! Perhaps I might be he, whom you think me; perhaps I might not
+have sufficient nobleness of thought to use with modesty the strange
+fortune of war, which delivered you into my hands; perhaps I might have
+tried through you to exact that for which I would no longer venture to
+contend by arms; perhaps--but fear nothing; a higher power has
+forestalled this. Perhaps. I cannot let your father redeem his son more
+dearly than by--mine.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I am astounded! You give me to understand that----
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+That my son is your father's prisoner, as you are mine.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Your son my father's prisoner? Your Polytimet? Since when? How? Where?
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Fate willed it thus! From equal scales it took equal weights at the
+same time, and the scales are balanced still.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+You wish to know more details. Polytimet led the very squadron, towards
+which you rushed too rashly; and when your soldiers saw that you were
+lost, rage and despair gave them superhuman strength. They broke
+through the lines and all assailed the one in whom they saw the
+compensation for their loss. The end you know! Now accept a word of
+advice from an old soldier: The assault is not a race; not he who
+first, but he who most surely meets the enemy, approaches victory. Note
+this, too ardent prince! otherwise the future hero may be stifled in
+his earliest bud.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Strato, you vex the prince with your warning, though it be friendly.
+How gloomily he stands there!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Not so. But do not mind me. In deep adoration of Providence--
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+The best adoration, prince, is grateful joy! Cheer up! We fathers will
+not long withhold our sons from one another. My herald is now ready; he
+shall go and hasten the exchange. But you know that joyful tidings,
+heard from the enemy alone, have the appearance of snares. They might
+suspect that you, perchance, had died from your wound. It will be
+necessary, therefore, for you to send a trustworthy messenger to your
+father with the herald. Come with me! Choose among the prisoners one
+whom you hold worthy of your confidence.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+You wish, then, that I shall detest myself a hundredfold? In each of
+the prisoners I shall behold myself! Spare me this embarrassment!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+But----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Parmenio must be among the prisoners. Send him to me! I will despatch
+him.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Well, be it so! Come, Strato! Prince, we shall see each other soon
+again!
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O God! the lightning could not have struck nearer without destroying me
+entirely. Wondrous gods! The flash returns! The vapour passes off, and
+I was only stunned. My whole misery then was seeing how miserable I
+might have become--how miserable my father through me!--Now I may
+appear again before you, my father! But still with eyes cast down;
+though shame alone will cast them down, and not the burning
+consciousness of having drawn you down with me to destruction. Now I
+need fear nothing from you but a smiling reprimand; no silent grief; no
+curses stifled by the stronger power of paternal love----
+
+But--yes, by Heavens! I am too indulgent towards myself. May I forgive
+myself all the errors which Providence seems to pardon me? Shall I not
+judge myself more severely than Providence and my father judge me? All
+too indulgent judges! All other sad results of my imprisonment the gods
+could annihilate; one only they could not--the disgrace! It is true
+they could wipe out that fleeting shame, which falls from the lips of
+the vulgar crowd: but not the true and lasting disgrace, which the
+inner judge, my impartial self, pronounces over me!
+
+And how easily I delude myself! Does my father then lose nothing
+through me?
+
+The weight which the capture of Polytimet must throw into the scale if
+I were not a prisoner--is that nothing? Only through me does it become
+nothing! Fortune would have declared for him for whom it should
+declare;--the right of my father would triumph, if Polytimet was
+prisoner and not Philotas and Polytimet!
+
+And now--but what was that which I thought just now? Nay, which a god
+thought within me--I must follow it up! Let me chain thee, fleeting
+thought! Now I have it again! How it spreads, farther and farther; and
+now it beams throughout my soul!
+
+What did the king say? Why did he wish that I myself should send a
+trustworthy messenger to my father? In order that my father should not
+suspect--yes, thus ran his own words--that I had already died,
+perchance, from my wounds. He thinks, then, that the affair would take
+a different aspect, if I had died already from my wound. Would it do
+so? A thousand thanks for this intelligence. A thousand thanks! Of
+course it is so. For my father would then have a prince as his
+prisoner, for whom he could make any claim; and the king, his enemy,
+would have the body of a captured prince, for which he could demand
+nothing; which he must have buried or burned, if it should not become
+an object of disgust to him.
+
+Good! I see that! Consequently, if I, I the wretched prisoner, will
+still turn the victory into my father's hands--on what does it depend?
+on death? On nothing more? O truly--the man is mightier than he thinks,
+the man who knows how to die!
+
+But I? I, the germ, the bud of a man, do I know how to die? Not the
+man, the grown man alone, knows how to die; the youth also, the boy
+also; or he knows nothing at all. He who has lived ten years has had
+ten years time to learn to die; and what one does not learn in ten
+years, one neither learns in twenty, in thirty, nor in more. All that
+which I might have been, I must show by what I already am. And what
+could I, what would I be? A hero! Who is a hero? O my excellent, my
+absent father, be now wholly present in my soul! Have you not taught me
+that a hero is a man who knows higher goods than life? A man who has
+devoted his life to the welfare of the state; himself, the single one,
+to the welfare of the many? A hero is a man--a man? Then not a youth,
+my father? Curious question! It is good that my father did not hear it.
+He would have to think that I should be pleased, if he answered "No" to
+it. How old must the pine-tree be which has to serve as a mast? How
+old?--It must be tall enough, and must be strong enough.
+
+Each thing, said the sage who taught me, is perfect if it can fulfil
+its end. I can fulfil my end, I can die for the welfare of the state; I
+am therefore perfect, I am a man. A man! although but a few days ago I
+was still a boy.
+
+What fire rages in my veins? What inspiration falls on me? The breast
+becomes too narrow for the heart! Patience, my heart! Soon will I give
+thee space! Soon will I release thee from thy monotonous and tedious
+task! Soon shalt thou rest, and rest for long!
+
+Who comes? It is Parmenio! Quick! I must decide! What must I say to
+him? What message must I send my father through him?--Right! that I
+must say, that message I must send.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                          Parmenio. Philotas.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Approach, Parmenio! Well? Why so shy--so full of shame? Of whom are you
+ashamed? Of yourself or of me?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Of both of us, prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Speak always as you think! Truly, Parmenio, neither of us can be good
+for much, since we are here. Have you already heard my story?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Alas!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And when you heard it?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I pitied you, I admired you, I cursed you; I do not know myself what I
+did.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Yes, yes! But now that you have also learned, as I suppose, that the
+misfortune is not so great since Polytimet immediately afterwards
+was----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Yes, now; now I could almost laugh! I find that Fate often stretches
+its arm to terrible length to deal a trifling blow. One might think it
+wished to crush us, and it has after all done nothing but killed a fly
+upon our forehead.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+To the point. I am to send you to my father with the king's herald.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Good! Your imprisonment will then plead for mine. Without the good news
+which I shall bring him from you, and which is well worth a friendly
+look, I should have had to promise myself rather a frosty one from him.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+No, honest Parmenio; in earnest now! My father knows that the enemy
+carried you from the battle-field bleeding and half dead. Let him boast
+who will. He whom approaching death has already disarmed is easily
+taken captive. How many wounds have you now, old warrior?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+O, I could cite a long list of them once. But now I have shortened it a
+good deal.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+How so?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Ha! I do not any more count the limbs on which I am wounded; to save
+time and breath I count those which still are whole. Trifles after all!
+For what else has one bones, but that the enemy's iron should notch
+itself upon them?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+That is bold! But now--what will you say to my father?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+What I see: that you are well. For your wound, if I have heard the
+truth----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Is as good as none.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+A sweet little keepsake. Such as an ardent maid nips in our cheek. Is
+it not, prince?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What do I know of that?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Well, well, time brings experience! Further I will tell your father
+what I believe you wish----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And what is that?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+To be with him again as soon as possible. Your childlike longing, your
+anxious impatience----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Why not home-sickness at once! Knave! Wait and I will teach you to
+think differently.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+By Heavens you must not! My dear youthful hero, let me tell you, you
+are still a child! Do not let the rough soldier so soon stifle in you
+the loving child! Or else one might not put the best construction on
+your heart; one might take your valour for inborn ferocity. I also am a
+father, father of an only son, who is but a little older than you, who
+with equal ardour--But you know him!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I know him. He promises everything that his father has accomplished.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+But if I knew that the young rogue did not long for his father at every
+moment when service leaves him free, and did not long for him as the
+lamb longs for its dam, I should wish--you see--that I had not begotten
+him. At present he must love more than respect me. I shall soon enough
+have to content myself with the respect, when nature guides the stream
+of his affection in another channel; when he himself becomes a father.
+Do not grow angry, prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Who can grow angry with you? You are right! Tell my father everything
+which you think a loving son should say to him at such a time. Excuse
+my youthful rashness, which has almost brought him and his empire to
+destruction. Beg him to forgive my fault. Assure him that I shall never
+again remind him of it by a similar fault; that I will do everything
+that he too may be able to forget it. Entreat him----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Leave it to me! Such things we soldiers can say well. And better than a
+learned orator, for we say it more sincerely. Leave it to me! I know
+it all already. Farewell, prince! I hasten----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Stop!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Well? What means this serious air which you suddenly assume?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+The son has done with you, but not yet the prince. The one had to feel;
+the other has to think! How willingly would the son be again with his
+father,--his beloved father--this very moment--sooner than were
+possible; but the prince, the prince cannot.--Listen!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+The prince cannot?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And will not!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Will not?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Listen!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I am surprised!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I say, you shall listen and not be surprised. Listen!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I am surprised, because I listen. It has lightened, and I expect the
+thunderbolt. Speak!--But, young prince, no second rashness!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+But, soldier, no subtilising! Listen! I have my reasons for wishing not
+to be redeemed before to-morrow. Not before to-morrow! Do you hear?
+Therefore tell our king that he shall not heed the haste of our enemy's
+herald! Tell him that a certain doubt, a certain plan compelled
+Philotas to this delay. Have you understood me?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+No!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Not? Traitor!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Softly, prince! A parrot does not understand, but he yet recollects
+what one says to him. Fear not! I will repeat everything to your father
+that I hear from you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Ha! I forbade you to subtilise; and that puts you out of humour. But
+how is it that you are so spoiled? Do all your generals inform you of
+their reasons?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+All, prince!--Except the young ones.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Excellent! Parmenio, if I were so sensitive as you----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+And yet he only to whom experience has given twofold sight can command
+my blind obedience.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Then I shall soon have to ask your pardon. Well, I ask your pardon,
+Parmenio! Do not grumble, old man! Be kind again, old father! You are
+indeed wiser than I am. But not the wisest only have the best ideas.
+Good ideas are gifts of fortune, and good fortune, as you well know,
+often gives to the youth rather than to the old man. For Fortune is
+blind. Blind, Parmenio! Stone blind to all merit. If it were not so,
+would you not have been a general long ago?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+How you know how to flatter, prince! But in confidence, beloved prince,
+do you not wish to bribe me--to bribe me with flatteries?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I flatter? And bribe you? You are the man indeed whom one could bribe!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+If you continue thus, I may become so. Already I no longer thoroughly
+trust myself.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What was it I was saying? One of those good ideas, which fortune often
+throws into the silliest brain, I too have seized--merely seized, not
+the slightest portion of it is my own. For if my reason,--my invention
+had some part in it, should I not wish to consult with you about it?
+But this I cannot do; it vanishes, if I impart it; so tender, so
+delicate is it, that I do not venture to clothe it in words. I conceive
+it only, as the philosopher has taught me to conceive God, and at the
+most I could only tell you what it is not. It is possible enough that
+it is in reality a childish thought; a thought which I consider happy,
+because I have not yet had a happier. But let that be; if it can do no
+good, it can at least do no harm. That I know for certain; it is the
+most harmless idea in the world; as harmless as--as a prayer! Would you
+cease to pray because you are not quite certain whether the prayer
+will be of use to you? Do not then spoil my pleasure, Parmenio,
+honest Parmenio! I beg you, I embrace you. If you love me but a very
+little--will you? Can I rely on you? Will you manage that I am not
+exchanged before to-morrow? Will you?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Will? Must I not? Must I not? Listen, prince; when you shall one day be
+king, do not give commands. To command is an unsure means of being
+obeyed. If you have a heavy duty to impose on anyone, do with him
+as you have just now done with me; and if he then refuses his
+obedience--Impossible! He cannot refuse it to you. I too must know what
+a man can refuse.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+What obedience? What has the kindness which you show me to do with
+obedience? Will you, my friend----
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+Stop! Stop! You have won me quite already. Yes! I will do everything. I
+will, I will tell your father, that he shall not exchange you until
+to-morrow. But why only to-morrow? I do not know! That I need not know.
+That he need not know either. Enough that I know you wish it. And I
+wish everything that you wish. Do you wish nothing else? Is there
+nothing else that I shall do? Shall I run through the fire for you?
+Shall I cast myself from a rock for you? Command only, my dear young
+friend, command! I will do everything now for you. Even say a word and
+I will commit a crime, an act of villainy for you! My blood, it is
+true, curdles; but still, prince, if you wish, I will--I will----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O my best, my fiery friend! O how shall I call you? You creator of my
+future fame! I swear to you by everything that is sacred to me, by my
+father's honour, by the fortune of his arms, by the welfare of his
+land--I swear to you never in my life to forget this your readiness,
+your zeal! Would that I also could reward it sufficiently! Hear, ye
+gods, my oath! And now, Parmenio, swear too! Swear to keep your promise
+faithfully!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I swear? I am too old for swearing.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+And I too young to trust you without an oath. Swear to me! I have sworn
+to you by my father, swear you by your son. You love your son? You love
+him from your heart?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+From my heart, as I love you! You wish it, and I swear. I swear to you
+by my only son, by my blood which flows in his veins, by the blood
+which I would willingly have shed for your father's sake, and which he
+will also willingly shed some future day for yours--by this blood I
+swear to you to keep my word. And if I do not keep it, may my son fall
+in his first battle, and never live to see the glorious days of your
+reign! Hear, ye gods, my oath!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Hear him not yet, ye gods! You will make fun of me, old man! To fall in
+the first battle--not to live to see my reign; is that a misfortune? Is
+it a misfortune to die early?
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I do not say that. Yet only to see you on the throne, to serve you, I
+should like--what otherwise I should not wish at all--to become young
+again. Your father is good; but you will be better than he.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+No praise that slights my father! Alter your oath! Come, alter it like
+this. If you do not keep your word, let your son become a coward, a
+scoundrel; in the choice between death and disgrace, let him choose the
+latter; let him live ninety years the laughing-stock of women, and even
+die unwillingly in his ninetieth year.
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+I shudder, but I swear. Let him do so. Hear the most terrible of oaths,
+ye gods!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Hear it! Well, you can go, Parmenio! We have detained each other long
+enough, and almost made too much ado about a trifle. For is it not a
+very trifle to tell my father--to persuade him not to exchange us until
+tomorrow? And if he should wish to know the reason--well, then invent a
+reason on your way!
+
+                               PARMENIO.
+
+That, too, I'll do. Yet I have never, though I am so old, devised a
+lie. But for your sake, prince--Leave it to me. Wickedness may still be
+learned even in old age. Farewell!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Embrace me! Go!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+There are said to be so many rogues in the world, and yet deceiving is
+so hard, even when done with the best intentions. Had I not to turn and
+twist myself! Only see, good Parmenio, that my father does not exchange
+us before to-morrow, and he shall not need to exchange us at all. Now I
+have gained time enough! Time enough to strengthen myself in my
+purpose--time enough to choose the surest means. To strengthen myself
+in my purpose! Woe to me if I need that! Firmness of age, if thou art
+not mine, then obstinacy of youth, stand thou by me!
+
+Yes, it is resolved! It is firmly resolved! I feel that I grow calm--I
+am calm! Thou who standest there, Philotas (_surveying himself_)--Ha!
+It must be a glorious, a grand sight; a youth stretched on the ground,
+the sword in his breast! The sword? Gods! O unhappy wretch that I am.
+And now only do I become aware of it! I have no sword; I have not
+anything! It became the booty of the warrior who made me prisoner.
+Perhaps he would have left it me, but the hilt was of gold. Accursed
+gold! art thou then always the ruin of virtue?
+
+No sword? I no sword? Gods, merciful gods, grant me this one thing!
+Mighty gods, ye who have created heaven and earth, ye could not create
+a sword for me, if ye wished to do so? What is now my grand and
+glorious design? I become a bitter cause of laughter to myself.
+
+And there the king comes back already! Stop! Suppose I played the
+child? This idea is promising. Yes, perhaps I may succeed.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                           Aridaeus. Philotas.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+The messengers have now gone, my prince! They have started on their
+swiftest horses, and your father's camp is so near at hand, that we can
+receive a reply in a few hours.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+You are then very impatient, king, to embrace your son once more?
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Will your father be less so to press you to his heart again? But let me
+enjoy your company, dearest prince! The time will speed more quickly in
+it, and perhaps in other respects it may also have good results, if we
+become more intimately acquainted with each other. Often already have
+loving children been the mediators of their angry fathers. Follow me
+therefore to my tent, where the greatest of my generals await you! They
+burn with the desire to see you, and offer you their admiration.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Men must not admire a child, king! Leave me here, therefore, I pray!
+Shame and vexation would make me play a very foolish part. And as to
+your conversation with me, I do not see at all what good could come of
+it. I know nothing else, but that you and my father are involved in
+war; and the right--the right, I think, is on my father's side. This I
+believe, king! and will believe, even though you could prove the
+reverse indisputably. I am a son and a soldier, and have no other
+opinion than that of my father and my general.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Prince! it shows a great intelligence thus to deny one's intelligence.
+Yet I am sorry that I shall not ever be able to justify myself before
+you. Accursed war!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Yes, truly, an accursed war! And woe to him who caused it.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Prince! prince! remember that it was your father who first drew the
+sword. I do not wish to join in your curses. He was rash, he was too
+suspicious.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Well, my father drew the first sword. But does the conflagration only
+take its rise when the bright flame already breaks through the roof?
+Where is the patient, quiet creature, devoid of all feeling, which
+cannot be embittered through incessant irritations? Consider--for
+you compel me to speak of things of which I have no right to
+speak--consider what a proud and scornful answer you sent him when
+he--but you shall not compel me; I will not speak of it! Our guilt and
+our innocence are liable to endless misinterpretations, endless
+excuses. Only to the undeceived eye of the gods do we appear as we are;
+they alone can judge us. But the gods, you know it, king, speak their
+verdict through the sword of the bravest. Let us therefore wait to hear
+their bloody sentence. Why shall we turn in cowardice from this highest
+of judgments to a lower? Are our arms already so weary that the pliant
+tongue must take their place?
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+I hear with astonishment----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Ah! a woman, too, may be listened to with astonishment.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+With astonishment, prince, and not without grief. Fate has destined you
+for the throne! To you it will confide the welfare of a mighty and
+noble nation; to you! What dreadful future reveals itself to me! You
+will overwhelm your people with laurels,--and with misery. You will
+count more victories than happy subjects. Well for me, that my days
+will not reach into yours! But woe to my son, to my honest son! You
+will scarcely allow him to lay aside his armour----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Comfort the father, O king! I shall allow your son far more!--far more!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Far more? Explain yourself.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Have I spoken a riddle? O do not ask, king, that a youth, such as I am,
+shall always speak with caution and design. I only wished to say the
+fruit is often very different from what the blossom promises. An
+effeminate prince, history has taught me, has often proved a warlike
+king. Could not the reverse occur with me? Or perhaps the meaning of
+what I said was that I had still a long and dangerous way to the
+throne. Who knows if the gods will allow me to accomplish it? And do
+not let me accomplish it, father of gods and men, if in the future thou
+seest in me a waster of the most precious gift which thou hast
+entrusted to me,--the blood of my subjects!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Yes, prince; what is a king, if he be not a father? What is a hero void
+of human love? Now I recognise this also in you, and am your friend
+again! But come, come; we must not remain alone here! We are too
+serious for one another. Follow me!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Pardon, king----
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Do not refuse!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Thus, as I am, shall I show myself to many eyes?
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Why not?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I cannot, king, I cannot!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+And the reason?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O, the reason! It would make you laugh.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+So much the better,--let me hear it! I am a human being, and like to
+laugh and cry.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Well, laugh then! See, king, I have no sword, and should not like to
+appear amongst soldiers without this mark of the soldier.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+My laughing turns to joy! I have thought of that beforehand, and your
+wish will be gratified at once. Strato has the order to get your sword
+again for you.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Let us then await him here!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+And then you will accompany me?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Then I will follow you immediately.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+As we willed it! There he comes! Well, Strato!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+        Strato (_with a sword in his hand_), Aridaeus, Philotas.
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+King! I came to the soldier who had taken the prince and demanded the
+prince's sword from him in your name. But hear how nobly the soldier
+refused! "The king," he said, "must not take the sword from me! It is a
+good sword, and I shall use it in his service. I must also keep a
+remembrance of this deed. By the gods, it was none of my least! The
+prince is a young demon. But perhaps you wish only the precious hilt!"
+And on this, before I could prevent it, his strong hand had broken off
+the hilt, and throwing it contemptuously before my feet--"There it is,"
+he continued, "what care I for your gold?"
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+O Strato, make good for me what this man has done!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+I have done so. And here is one of your swords!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Give it me! Will you accept it, prince, instead of yours?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Let me see! Ha! (_aside_.) Be thanked, ye gods! (_eyeing it long and
+earnestly_). A sword!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Have I not chosen well, prince?
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+What do you find in it so worthy of your deep attention?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+That it is a sword!--(_recovering himself_.) And a beautiful sword! I
+shall not lose anything by this exchange. A sword!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+You tremble, prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+With joy! It seems, however, a trifle short for me. But why short? A
+step nearer to the enemy replaces what is wanting in the steel. Beloved
+sword! What a beautiful thing is a sword,--to play with and to use! I
+have never played with anything else.
+
+                         ARIDAeUS (_to_ Strato).
+
+O the wondrous combination of child and hero!
+
+                          PHILOTAS (_aside_).
+
+Beloved sword! Could I but be alone with thee! But, courage!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Now gird on the sword, prince, and follow me!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Directly! Yet one must not know one's friend and one's sword only
+outwardly (_he draws it, and_ Strato _steps between him and the king_).
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+I understand the steel better than the workmanship. Believe me, prince,
+the steel is good. The king has cleft more than one helmet with it
+since his youth.
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I shall never grow so strong as that! But--Do not step so near, Strato!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Why not?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+So! (_springing back and swinging the sword through the air_). It has
+the right swing.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Prince, spare your wounded arm! You will excite yourself!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Of what do you remind me, king? Of my misfortune--no, of my shame! I
+was wounded and made prisoner. Yes, but I shall never be so again! By
+this my sword, I shall never be so again! No, my father, no! To-day a
+wonder spares you the shameful ransom of your son; his death may spare
+it you in the future!--His certain death, when he shall see himself
+surrounded again! Surrounded again? Horrible! I am so! I am surrounded!
+What now? Companions! Friends! Brothers! Where are you? All dead?
+Enemies everywhere! Through here, Philotas! Ha! That is for you, rash
+fellow!--And that for you!--And that for you! (_striking around him_.)
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Prince! what ails you? Calm yourself (_approaches him_.)
+
+                  PHILOTAS (_stepping away from him_).
+
+You too, Strato? You too? O, foe, be generous! Kill me! Do not make me
+captive! No, I do not deliver myself up! Were you all, who surround me,
+Stratos, yet I will defend myself against you all--against a world will
+I defend myself! Do your best, my foes! But you will not? You will not
+kill me, cruel men? You only wish to have me alive? I laugh at you! To
+take me prisoner alive? Me? Sooner shall this sword--this sword--shall
+pierce this breast--sooner--before--(_he stabs himself_.)
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+God! Strato!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+King!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I wished it thus! (_sinking back_.)
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Hold him, Strato! Help! help for the prince! Prince, what raving
+anguish----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Forgive me, king! I have dealt you a more deadly blow than myself! I
+die, and soon will peaceful lands enjoy the fruit of my death. Your
+son, king, is a prisoner, and the son of my father is free!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+What do I hear?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+Then it was your purpose, prince? But as our prisoner, you had no right
+over yourself!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Do not say that, Strato! Should a man be able to fetter another's
+liberty to die, the liberty which the gods have left in all
+vicissitudes of life?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+O king! Terror has paralyzed him! King!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Who calls me?
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+King!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Be silent!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+The war is over, king!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Over? You lie, Strato! The war is not over, prince! Die! yes, die! But
+carry with you this tormenting thought! You believed, as a true
+ignorant boy, that fathers were all of one and the same mould,--all of
+the soft, effeminate nature of your father. They are not all like him!
+I am not so! What do I care about my son? And do you think that he
+cannot die as well for his father as you did for yours? Let him die!
+Let his death too spare me the disgraceful ransom! Strato, I am bereft
+now, I poor man! You have a son;--he shall be mine. For a son one must
+have! Happy Strato!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+Your son too lives still, king! And will live! I hear it!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Does he live still? Then I must have him back. But you--die! I will
+have him back, let what will come of it. And in exchange for you! Or I
+will have such disgrace and dishonour shown to your body--I will have
+it----
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+The dead body!--If you will revenge yourself, king, awaken it again!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Ah! What do I say?
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+I pity you! Farewell, Strato! There, where all virtuous friends and all
+brave men are members of one blessed state--in Elysium we shall meet
+again! We also, king, shall meet again.
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+And reconciled! Prince!
+
+                               PHILOTAS.
+
+O then, ye gods, receive my triumphant soul; and thou, goddess of
+peace, thy offering!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Hear me, prince!
+
+                                STRATO.
+
+He dies! Am I traitor, king, if I weep over your enemy? I cannot
+restrain myself. A wondrous youth!
+
+                                ARIDAeUS.
+
+Weep over him, weep! And I too! Come! I must have my son again. But do
+not oppose me, if I pay too high a ransom for him! In vain have we shed
+our streams of blood, in vain have we conquered lands. There he departs
+with our booty, the greater victor!--Come! Get me my son! And when I
+have him, I will no more be king. Do ye believe, ye men, that one does
+not grow weary of it? (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+
+
+
+                            EMILIA GALOTTI.
+
+                        A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS.
+
+                  (_Translated by B. Dillon Boylan_.)
+
+
+'Emilia Galotti' was commenced in 1757, when Lessing was at Leipzig,
+but was thrown aside for some years, until in 1767, when at Hamburg, he
+again took it up, intending to have it represented on the Hamburg
+stage. But on the failure of the theatrical enterprise with which he
+was connected, he once more abandoned it until 1771, when he again
+turned his attention to it, and completed it in February of the
+following year. It was immediately represented on the Brunswick stage.
+
+
+
+
+
+                           DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+      Emilia Galotti.
+      Odoardo _and_     \
+                         > _parents of_ Emilia.
+      Claudia Galotti,  /
+      Hettore Gonzaga, _Prince of Guastalla_.
+      Marinelli, _the Prince's Chamberlain_.
+      Camillo Rota, _one of the Prince's Councillors_.
+      Conti, _an artist_.
+      Count Appiani.
+      Angelo, _a bandit_.
+      Pirro _and sundry servants_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                            EMILIA GALOTTI.
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT I.
+
+
+                   Scene I.--_The Prince's Cabinet_.
+
+    _The_ Prince, _seated at a desk, which is covered with papers_.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Complaints; nothing but complaints! Petitions; nothing but petitions!
+Wretched employment! And yet we are envied! To be sure, if we could
+relieve every one, we might indeed be envied. Emilia? (_opening a
+petition, and looking at the signature_.) An Emilia? Yes--but an Emilia
+Bruneschi--not Galotti. Not Emilia Galotti. What does she want, this
+Emilia Bruneschi? (_Reads_) She asks much--too much. But her name is
+Emilia. It is granted (_signs the paper, and rings_).
+
+                           _Enter a_ Servant.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Are any of the Councillors in the antechamber?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+No, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I have begun the day too early. The morning is so beautiful, I will
+take a drive. The Marquis Marinelli shall accompany me. Let him be
+called. (_Exit_ Servant.) I can attend to nothing more. I was so
+happy--delightful thought! so happy--when all at once this wretched
+Bruneschi must be named Emilia. Now all my peace is fled.
+
+               _Re-enter the_ Servant, _bringing a note_.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+The Marquis has been sent for; and here is a letter from the Countess
+Orsina.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The Countess Orsina? Put it down.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+Her courier waits.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I will send an answer if necessary. Where is she, in town, or at her
+villa?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+She arrived in town yesterday.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+So much the worse--the better, I mean. There is less reason for the
+messenger to wait. (_Exit_ Servant.) My dear Countess! (_with sarcasm,
+as he takes up the letter_) as good as read (_throwing it down again_).
+Well, well, I fancied I loved her--one may fancy anything. It may be
+that I really did love her. But--I did.
+
+                          _Re-enter_ Servant.
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+The painter Conti requests the honour----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Conti? Good! admit him. That will change the current of my thoughts
+(_rising_).
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                          Conti, _The_ Prince.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Good morning, Conti. How goes it with you? How does art thrive?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Art is starving, Prince.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That must not--shall not be, within the limits of my small dominions.
+But the artist must be willing to work.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Work! that is his happiness. But too much work may rain his claim to
+the title of artist.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I do not mean that his works should be many, but his labour much: a
+little, but well done. But you do not come empty-handed, Conti?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+I have brought the portrait which your Highness ordered; and another
+which you did not order; but as it is worthy of inspection----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That one, is it? And yet I do not well remember----
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+The Countess Orsina.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+True. The commission, however, was given rather long ago.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Our beauties are not every day at the artist's command. In three
+months, the Countess could only make up her mind to sit once.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Where are the pictures?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+In the antechamber. I will fetch them (_exit_).
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Her portrait! Let it come; it is not herself. But perhaps I may see in
+the picture what I can no longer find in her person. But I have no wish
+to make such a discovery. The importunate painter! I almost believe
+that she has bribed him. But even were it so, if another picture which
+is pourtrayed in brighter colours and on a different canvas, could be
+obliterated to make room for her once more in my heart, I really think
+that I should be content. When I loved the Countess, I was ever gay,
+sprightly, and cheerful; now I am the reverse. But no, no, no; happy or
+unhappy, it is better as it is.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+_The_ Prince, Conti, _with the portraits; he places one with the face
+reversed against a chair, and prepares to show the other_.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+I beg your Highness will bear in mind the limits of our art; much of
+the highest perfection of beauty lies altogether beyond its limits.
+Look at it in this position.
+
+                  PRINCE (_after a brief inspection_).
+
+Excellent! Conti, most excellent! It does credit to your taste,--to
+your skill. But flattered, Conti--quite, infinitely flattered!
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+The original did not seem to be of your opinion. But, in truth, she is
+not more flattered than art is bound to flatter. It is the province of
+art to paint as plastic nature--if there is such a thing--intended her
+original design, without the defects which the unmanageable materials
+render inevitable, and free from the ravages which result from a
+conflict with time.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The intelligent artist has therefore double merit. But the original,
+you say, notwithstanding all this----
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Pardon me, Prince! The original is a person who commands my respect. I
+did not intend to insinuate anything to her disadvantage.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+As much as you please. But what said the original?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+"I am satisfied," said the Countess, "if I am not plainer."
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not plainer! The original herself!
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+And she uttered this with an expression of which the portrait affords
+no trace, no idea.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That is just what I meant; therein lies your infinite flattery. Oh! I
+know well her proud, contemptuous look, which would disfigure the face
+of one of the Graces. I do not deny that a handsome mouth set off with
+a slight curl of scorn, sometimes acquires thereby additional beauty.
+But, observe, it must be only slight; the look must not amount to
+grimace, as it does with this Countess. The eyes, too, must keep
+control over the disdainful charmer; eyes which the worthy Countess
+decidedly does not possess. You do not even give them to her in the
+picture.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Your Highness, I am perfectly amazed.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+And wherefore? All that could be achieved by the resources of art out
+of the great prominent staring Medusa eyes of the Countess, you have
+honourably accomplished. Honourably, I say, but less honourably would
+have been more honest; for tell me yourself, Conti, is the character of
+the individual expressed by this picture? yet it should be. You have
+converted pride into dignity, disdain into a smile, and the gloom of
+discontent into soft melancholy.
+
+                       CONTI (_somewhat vexed_).
+
+Ah! Prince, we painters expect that a portrait when finished will find
+the lover as warm as when he ordered it. We paint with eyes of love,
+and the eyes of love alone must judge our works.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+'Tis true, Conti; but why did you not bring it a month sooner? Lay it
+aside. What is the other?
+
+         CONTI (_taking it up and holding it still reversed_).
+
+It is also a female portrait.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Then I had almost rather not see it; for the ideal depicted here
+(_pointing to his forehead_), or rather here (_laying his hand upon his
+heart_), it cannot equal. I should like, Conti, to admire your art in
+other subjects.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+There may be more admirable examples of art, but a more admirable
+subject than this cannot exist.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Then I'll lay a wager, Conti, that it is the portrait of the artist's
+own mistress. (Conti _turns the picture_.) What do I see? Your work,
+Conti, or the work of my fancy? Emilia Galotti!
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+How, Prince! do you know this angel?
+
+     PRINCE (_endeavouring to compose himself, but unable to remove
+                      his eyes from the picture_).
+
+A little; just enough to recognise her. A few weeks ago I met her with
+her mother at an assembly; since then I have only seen her in sacred
+places, where staring is unseemly. I know her father also; he is not my
+friend. He it was who most violently opposed my pretensions to
+Sabionetta. He is a veteran, proud and unpolished, but upright and
+brave.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+You speak of the father, this is the daughter.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+By Heavens! you must have stolen the resemblance from her mirror (_with
+his eyes still rivetted on the picture_). Oh, you well know, Conti,
+that we praise the artist most when we forget his merits in his works.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Yet I am extremely dissatisfied with this portrait, and nevertheless I
+am satisfied with being dissatisfied with myself. Alas! that we cannot
+paint directly with our eyes! On the long journey from the eye through
+the arm to the pencil, how much is lost! But, as I have already said,
+though I know what is lost, and how and why it is lost, I am as proud
+and prouder of this loss than of what I have preserved. For by the
+former I perceive more than by the latter, that I am a good painter,
+though my hand is not always so. Or do you hold, Prince, that Raffaelle
+would not have been the greatest of all artists even had he
+unfortunately been born without hands?
+
+         PRINCE (_turning his eyes a moment from the picture_).
+
+What do you say, Conti? What was your enquiry?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Oh, nothing--nothing; mere idle observations! Your soul, I observe, was
+wholly in your eyes. I like such souls and such eyes.
+
+                     PRINCE (_affecting coldness_).
+
+And so, Conti, you really consider Emilia Galotti amongst the first
+beauties of our city.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Amongst them? Amongst the first? The first of our city? You jest,
+Prince, or your eyesight must have been all this time as insensible as
+your hearing.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Dear Conti (_again fixing his eyes on the picture_), how can we
+uninitiated trust our eyes? In fact, none but an artist can judge of
+beauty.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+And must the feeling of every person wait for the decision of a
+painter? To a cloister with him who would learn from us what is
+beautiful! But this much I must own to you, as a painter, Prince. It is
+one of the greatest delights of my life that Emilia Galotti has sat to
+me. This head, this countenance, this forehead, these eyes, this nose,
+this mouth, this chin, this neck, this bosom, this shape, this whole
+form, are from the present time forward my only model of female beauty.
+The original picture for which she sat, is in the possession of her
+absent father. But this copy----
+
+                   PRINCE (_turning to him quickly_).
+
+Well, Conti--is not surely bespoke already?
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Is for you, Prince, if it affords you any pleasure.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Pleasure! (_smiling_.) How can I do better than make your model of
+female beauty my own? There, take back that other portrait, and order a
+frame for it.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+Good.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+As rich and splendid as the carver can possibly make it. It shall be
+placed in the gallery. But this must remain here. A study need not be
+treated with so much ceremony; one does not hang it up for display. It
+should always be at hand. I thank you, Conti, cordially. And as I said
+before, the arts shall never starve in my dominions, as long as I have
+bread. Send to my treasurer, Conti, and let him pay your own price for
+both pictures; as much as you please, Conti.
+
+                                 CONTI.
+
+I must begin to fear, Prince, that you mean to reward me for something
+else besides my art?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Oh the jealousy of an artist! No, no! But remember, Conti, as much as
+you please.                                         (_Exit_ Conti.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                             _The_ Prince.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Yes, as much as he pleases. (_Turning to the picture_.) Thou art mine,
+too cheap at any price. Oh, thou enchanting work of art! Do I then
+possess thee? But who shall possess thyself, thou still more beautiful
+masterpiece of nature? Claim what you will, honest old mother; ask what
+you will, morose old father. Demand any price. Yet, dear enchantress, I
+should be far more happy to buy thee from thyself! This eye! how full
+of love and modesty! This mouth! when it speaks, when it smiles! This
+mouth!--Some one comes.--I am still too jealous of thee. (_Turning the
+picture to the wall_.) It is Marinelli. I wish I had not sent for him!
+What a morning might I have had!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                        Marinelli, _The_ Prince.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your Highness will pardon me; I was not prepared for so early a
+summons.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I felt an inclination to drive out, the morning was so fine. But now it
+is almost over, and my inclination has subsided. (_After a short
+pause_). Any news, Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Nothing of importance that I know. The Countess Orsina arrived in town
+yesterday.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Yes, here lies her morning salutation (_pointing to the letter_), or
+whatever it may be. I am not inquisitive about it. Have you seen her?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Am I not unfortunately her confidant? But if ever I am so again with a
+lady who takes it into her head to love you desperately, Prince, may
+I----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+No rash vows, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed, Prince! Is it possible? The Countess, then, is not so utterly
+mistaken.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Quite mistaken, certainly. My approaching union with the Princess of
+Massa compels me in the first place to break off all such connections.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If that were all, the Countess would doubtless know as well how to
+submit to her fate, as the Prince to his.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+My fate is harder far than hers. My heart is sacrificed to a miserable
+political consideration. She has but to take back hers, and need not
+bestow it against her inclination.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Take it back! "Why take it back," asks the Countess, "for a wife, whom
+policy and not love attaches to the Prince?" With a wife of that kind
+the mistress may still hold her place. It is not, therefore, for a wife
+that she dreads being sacrificed, but----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Perhaps another mistress. What then? would you make a crime of that,
+Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I, Prince? Oh, confound me not with the foolish woman whose cause I
+advocate--from pity! For yesterday I own she greatly moved me. She
+wished not to mention her attachment to you, and strove to appear cold
+and tranquil. But in the midst of the most indifferent topics, some
+expression, some allusion, escaped her, which betrayed her tortured
+heart. With the most cheerful demeanour she said the most melancholy
+things, and on the other hand uttered the most laughable jests with an
+air of deep distress. She has taken to books for refuge, which I fear
+will be her ruin.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Yes, for books gave the first blow to her poor understanding. And,
+Marinelli, you will scarcely employ for the purpose of renewing my
+attachment, that which was the chief cause of our separation. If love
+renders her foolish, she would sooner or later have become so, even
+without such influence. But enough of her! To something else. Is there
+nothing new in town?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Next to nothing; for that Count Appiani will be married to-day is
+little better than nothing.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Count Appiani! To whom? I have not heard that he is engaged.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The affair has been kept a profound secret. And indeed, there was not
+much to create a sensation. You will smile, Prince; but it ever happens
+so with sentimental youths! Love always plays the worst of tricks. A
+girl without fortune or rank has managed to catch him in her snares,
+without any trouble, but with a little display of virtue, sensibility,
+wit, and so forth.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The man who can wholly resign himself to the impressions which
+innocence and beauty make upon him is, in my opinion, rather to be
+envied than derided. And what is the name of the happy fair one? For
+though I well know, Marinelli, that you and Appiani dislike each other,
+he is nevertheless a very worthy young man, a handsome man, a rich man,
+and an honourable man. I should like to be able to attach him to
+myself.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If it be not too late; for, as far as I can learn, it is not his
+intention to seek his fortune at court. He will retire with his spouse
+to his native valleys of Piedmont, and indulge himself in hunting
+chamois or training marmots upon the Alps. What can he do better? Here
+his prospects are blighted by the connection he has formed. The first
+circles are closed against him.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The first circles! What are they worth, mere resorts of ceremony,
+restraint, ennui, and poverty? But how call you the fair being who is
+the cause of all these wondrous sacrifices?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A certain--Emilia Galotti?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What! Marinelli! a certain----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Emilia Calotti.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Emilia Galotti? Never!----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Assuredly, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But no, I say. It is not, and it cannot be! You mistake the name. The
+family of Galotti is numerous. It may be a Galotti, but not Emilia
+Galotti!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Emilia--Emilia Galotti.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+There must be another who bears the same names. You said, however, a
+certain Emilia Galotti,--a certain one. Of the real Emilia, none but a
+fool could so speak.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your Highness is excited. Do you know this Emilia?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+It is my place to question, not yours, Marinelli. Is she the daughter
+of Colonel Galotti, who resides at Sabionetta?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Who lives here in Guastalla with her mother.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Near the church of All-Saints.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+In a word (_turning hastily to the portrait, and giving it to_
+Marinelli)--there! is it this Emilia Galotti? Pronounce again those
+damning words, "the same," and plunge a dagger in my heart.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The same.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Traitor! This? this Emilia Galotti--will to-day be----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Countess Appiani. (_The_ Prince _seizes the portrait from the hands
+of_ Marinelli, _and flings it aside_.)--The marriage will be celebrated
+privately at her father's villa, in Sabionetta. About noon the mother
+and daughter, the Count, and perhaps a few friends, will leave town
+together.
+
+  PRINCE (_throwing himself in a state of desperation into a chair_).
+
+Then I am lost, and care no more for life.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What thus affects your Highness?
+
+                 PRINCE (_starting towards him again_).
+
+Traitor! what affects me thus? Yes, in truth, I love her! I adore her!
+You may, perhaps, know it, may even long have known it; all of you who
+desire that I should wear for ever the ignominious fetters of the
+proud Orsina. That you, Marinelli, who have so often assured me
+of your sincere friendship--but a Prince has no friend, can have no
+friend--that you should act so treacherously, so deceitfully, as to
+conceal till this moment the peril which threatened my love.--Oh, if
+ever I forgive you this, let no sin of mine be pardoned!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I could scarcely find words, Prince, to express my astonishment--even
+if you gave me the opportunity. You love Emilia Galotti? Hear, then, my
+oath in reply to yours. If I have ever known or suspected this
+attachment in the slightest degree, may the angels and saints abandon
+me! I repeat the same imprecation for Orsina. Her suspicions were
+directed to a wholly different quarter.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Pardon me, then, Marinelli (_throwing himself into his arms_), and pity
+me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well, yes, Prince. There see the consequence of your reserve. "A prince
+has no friends." And why? Because he will have none. To-day you honour
+us with your confidence, entrust to us your most secret wishes, open
+your whole soul to us--and to-morrow we are as perfect strangers to
+you, as if you had never exchanged a word with us.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Alas, Marinelli, how could I entrust a secret to you which I would
+scarcely confess to myself?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And, which you have, therefore, of course, not confessed to the author
+of your uneasiness?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+To her!--All my endeavours have been fruitless to speak with her a
+second time.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And the first time----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I spoke to her;--Oh, my brain is turned, and must I continue this
+conversation longer? You behold me at the mercy of the waves, and why
+inquire how all this has happened? Save me if you can, and then
+question me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Save you! Is there much to save? What your Highness has not confessed
+to Emilia Galotti, you will confess to the Countess Appiani. Goods
+which cannot be obtained in their primitive perfection, must be bought
+at second hand, and are often, on that account, bought at a cheaper
+rate.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Be serious, Marinelli, or----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To be sure, such articles are generally so much the worse----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+For shame, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And the Count intends to leave this country too. Well, we must devise
+some scheme----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+And what scheme? My best and dearest Marinelli, contrive something for
+me. What would you do, were you in my situation?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Above all things, I should regard a trifle as a trifle--and say to
+myself that I would not be what I am for nothing--your Highness!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Delude me not with a power of which I can, on this occasion, make no
+use. To-day, said you?--This very day?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To-day it is to take place;--but it is only things which have taken
+place that cannot be recalled. (_After a short pause_.) Prince, will
+you let me act as I please? Will you approve all I do?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Anything, Marinelli, which can avert this blow.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Then let us lose no time. You must not remain in town, but go to your
+palace at Dosalo. The road to Sabionetta passes it. Should I not
+succeed in removing the Count, I think--yes, yes, he will be caught in
+that snare without doubt. You wish to send an ambassador to Massa
+respecting your marriage. Let the Count be ambassador, and order him to
+depart this very day.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Excellent!--Bring him to my palace.--Haste, haste!--I will leave town
+instantly.                                 (_Exit_ Marinelli.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Instantly, instantly. Where is it? (_Turns to the portrait_) On the
+ground! That was too bad. (_Takes it up_) But look! And yet I will look
+at thee no more now. Why should I plunge the arrow deeper into the
+wound? (_Lays it on the table_). I have suffered and sighed long
+enough--longer than I ought, but done nothing, and my listless
+inactivity had nearly ruined all.--And may not all yet be lost? May not
+Marinelli fail? Why should I rely on him alone?--It occurs to me that
+at this hour (_looks at his watch_) at this very hour, the pious girl
+daily attends mass at the church of the Dominicans. How, if I attempted
+to address her there? But to-day--the day of her marriage--her heart
+will be occupied with other things than mass. Yet, who knows?--'tis but
+a step--(_rings, and whilst he hastily arranges the papers on the
+table_)--
+
+                            _Enter_ Servant.
+
+My carriage!--Have none of the council arrived?
+
+                                SERVANT.
+
+Camillo Rota waits without.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Admit him. (_Exit_ Servant). But he must not attempt to detain
+me long. Not now--another time, I will attend to his scrupulous
+investigations----There was a petition of one Emilia Bruneschi--here it
+is--but, good Bruneschi, if your intercessor----
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                         _Enter_ Camillo Rota.
+
+Come, Rota, come. There lie the papers which I have opened this
+morning--not very consoling--you will see what is to be done. Take them
+with you.
+
+                                CAMILLO.
+
+I will attend to them.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Here is a petition from one Emilia Galot--I mean Bruneschi. I have
+already signed my consent to it--but yet the request is no trifle. You
+may defer the execution of it--or not--as you please.
+
+                                CAMILLO.
+
+Not as I please, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What more is there--anything to sign?
+
+                                CAMILLO.
+
+Sentence of death for your Highness's signature.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+With all my heart!--Where is it? Quick!
+
+              CAMILLO (_starts and gazes at the_ Prince).
+
+I said a death--warrant.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I understood you plain enough. It might have been done by this. I am in
+haste.
+
+                   CAMILLO (_looking at his papers_).
+
+I really believe I have not brought it. I beg your Highness's
+forgiveness. It can be deferred till to-morrow.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Be it so. Just collect these papers together. I must away. The rest
+to-morrow, Rota.
+
+        CAMILLO (_shaking his head, as he collects the papers_).
+
+"With all my heart!"--A death-warrant, with all my heart! I would not
+have let him sign at such a moment, had the criminal murdered my own
+son.--"With all my heart!" "With all my heart"--The cruel words pierce
+my very soul.                                       (_Exit_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT II.
+
+
+                Scene I.--_A room in_ Galotti's _house_.
+
+                        Claudia Galotti, Pirro.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Who dismounted just now in the court-yard? Pirro.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+My master, madam.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+My husband? Is it possible?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Here he comes.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+So unexpectedly? (_hastens towards him_). My dearest lord!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                      Odoardo, _and the foregoing_.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Good morning, my love. Does not my arrival surprise you?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Most agreeably. But is it intended as no more than a surprise?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+No more. Be not alarmed. The happiness of to-day awakened me early. The
+morning was so fine, and the ride so short, I fancied you would be so
+busy here to-day, and thought you might perhaps forget something: in a
+word, I am come to see you, and shall return immediately. Where is
+Emilia? Occupied with her dress, I have no doubt?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+With her soul. She is gone to hear mass. "I have need," she said,
+"to-day more than at any other time to implore a blessing from above;"
+then leaving all else she took her veil, and disappeared.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Alone!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+It is but a few steps----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+One incautious step often leads to mischief.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Be not angry; but come in and rest a moment, and, if you please, take
+some refreshment.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well, well, as you like. But she ought not to have gone alone.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Stay here, Pirro, in the antechamber, and excuse me to all visitors.
+(_Exeunt_ Odoardo _and_ Claudia.)
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    Pirro, _and afterwards_ Angelo.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+All inquisitive visitors. How I have been questioned! Who comes here?
+(_Enter_ Angelo, _in a short mantle, with which he conceals his face_.)
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Pirro! Pirro!
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+An acquaintance, it seems. (Angelo _throws back the mantle_). Heavens!
+Angelo. You!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Yes, Angelo, as you perceive. I have been wandering long enough round
+the house, in order to speak to you. One word with you----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+And dare you again appear in public? Don't you know that, in
+consequence of your last murder, you are declared an outlaw, a price
+has been put upon your head?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+You don't intend to claim it, I presume?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+What do you want? I implore you not to involve me in misfortune.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+In this way, you mean? (_Showing a purse_). Take it; it belongs to you.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+To me?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Have you forgotten? The German gentleman, your last master----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Hush!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+----Whom you led into our clutches on the road to Pisa----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+If any one should overhear us!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+----Had the kindness, you know, to bequeath us a valuable ring. Do you
+not remember? It was so valuable that we could not immediately convert
+it into money without suspicion. At length, however, I succeeded. I
+received a hundred pistoles for it, and this is your share. Take it.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+No, no! You may keep it.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Well, with all my heart! If you don't care at what price you put your
+head in the market.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Give it me, then (_takes it_). And now, what do you want? for I suppose
+you did not come in search of me merely for that purpose.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+It seems to you not very credible. Rascal! what do you think of us?
+That we are capable of withholding any man's earnings? That may be the
+way with honest people; but we don't follow their fashions. Farewell!
+(_Affects to be going, but turns at the door_). One question I must
+ask. Old Galotti has just come hurriedly into town quite alone. What
+does he want?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Nothing, merely a ride. His daughter is to be married this evening, at
+his country house, whence he has come to Count Appiani. He awaits the
+moment with impatience.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Then he will return soon?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+So soon, that if you remain any longer he will discover you. But you
+surely have no thoughts of attacking him. Take care. He is a man----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Don't I know him? Have I not served under him in the army; but
+nevertheless if one could only get much from him! At what time do the
+young people follow him?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Towards noon.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+With many attendants?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+A single carriage will contain the party--the mother, the daughter, and
+the count. A few friends from Sabionetta attend as witnesses.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+And the servants?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Only two besides myself. I shall ride before.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Good. Another question. Is the carriage Galotti's or the Count's?
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+The Count's.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+That is unlucky. There is another outrider, besides a courageous
+driver. However----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+I am amazed. What do you intend? The few ornaments which the bride has
+will scarcely reward your trouble.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Then the bride herself shall be the reward.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+And you mean that I should be your accomplice in this crime?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+You ride before! Then ride, ride, and take no trouble about the matter.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Never!
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+What?--I believe the fellow means to play the conscientious--you
+rascal! I think you know me. If you utter a syllable--if every
+circumstance be not as you have described it----
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+But, Angelo, for Heaven's sake----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Do what you cannot avoid. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Ha! let the devil hold thee by a single hair, and thou art his for
+ever! Wretch that I am!
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                 Odoardo _and_ Claudia Galotti, Pirro.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She stays too long.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+One moment more, Odoardo. It would distress her to miss seeing you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I must wait upon the Count, too. How eager am I to call this worthy man
+my son! His conduct enchants me, and, above everything, his resolution
+to pass his days in his native valleys.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+My heart almost breaks when I think of it. Must we so entirely lose our
+dear and only child!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Can you think you have lost her, when you know she is in the arms of an
+affectionate husband? Does not her happiness make your delight? You
+almost make me again suspect that your motive for remaining with her in
+town, far from an affectionate husband and father, was the bustle and
+the dissipation of the world, and proximity of the court, rather than
+the necessity of giving our daughter a proper education.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+How unjust, Odoardo! But to-day, I may be allowed to speak somewhat in
+favour of town and court, though both are so hateful to your strict
+virtue; for here alone could love have united a couple formed for each
+other; here alone could the Count have found our Emilia, and he has
+found her.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+That I allow. But were you right, good Claudia, because the result has
+been fortunate? It is well that this court education has ended so
+happily. Let us not affect to be wise, when we have only been
+fortunate. It is well that it has ended so happily. They who were
+destined for each other have found each other. Now let them go where
+peace and innocence invite them. Why should the Count remain here? To
+cringe--to fawn--to flatter--to supplant the Marinellis--to make a
+fortune which he does not want--to obtain a dignity, which he does not
+value?--Pirro!
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Sir!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Lead my horse to the Count's door. I'll follow you anon, and mount it
+there. (_Exit_ Pirro).--Why should the Count serve here, when he may
+command elsewhere? Besides, you do not consider, Claudia, that, by his
+union with my daughter, he is utterly ruined with the Prince? The
+Prince hates me----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Less, perhaps, than you fear.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Fear! Should I fear anything so contemptible?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Why, have I not already told you that the Prince has seen our daughter?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+The Prince! Where?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+At the last assembly of the Chancellor Grimaldi, which he honoured with
+his presence. He conducted himself so graciously towards her----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Graciously?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Yes. He conversed with her for some time.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Conversed with her?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Appeared to be so delighted with her cheerfulness and good sense----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Delighted?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Spoke of her elegance and beauty, in terms of such admiration----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Admiration? And all this you relate to me in a tone of rapture. Oh,
+Claudia! vain, foolish mother!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Why so?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well, well. This, too, has ended happily.--Ha! when I think----That
+were exactly the point where a wound would be to me most deadly.--A
+libertine, who admires, and seduces----Claudia! Claudia! The very
+thought rouses my fury. You ought to have mentioned this to me
+immediately.--But to-day I would not willingly say anything to vex you.
+And I should (_as she takes him by the hand_), were I to stay longer.
+Therefore, let me begone. God be with you, Claudia; follow me in
+safety. (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                           Claudia, Galotti.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+What a man! What rigid virtue--if virtue that should be called, to
+which everything seems suspicious and culpable. If this be a knowledge
+of mankind, who would not wish to remain in ignorance? Why does Emilia
+stay so long?----He dislikes the father--consequently, if he admire the
+daughter, he must mean to bring disgrace upon him!
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                     Emilia _and_ Claudia Galotti.
+
+                  EMILIA (_rushing in, much alarmed_.)
+
+Heaven be praised! I am now in safety. Or has he even followed me
+hither? (_Throwing back her veil and espying her mother_). Has he, my
+mother, has he?--No, thank Heaven.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+What has happened to you, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Nothing--nothing.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+And yet you look wildly round, and tremble in every limb!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+What have I had to hear?--And where have I been forced to hear it?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+I thought you were at church.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I was. But what are churches and altars to the vicious?--Oh, my mother!
+(_Throws herself into_ Claudia's _arms_.)
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Speak, my daughter, and remove my fears. What evil can have happened to
+you in so holy a place?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Never should my devotion have been more fervent and sincere than on
+this day. Never was it less what it ought to have been.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Emilia we are all human. The faculty of praying fervently is not always
+in our power; but, in the eye of Heaven, the wish to pray is accepted
+as prayer.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And our wish to sin as sin.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+That my Emilia never wished.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+No, my mother. The grace of Heaven has preserved me from falling so
+low. But, alas! that the vice of others should render us accomplices in
+vice against our will!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Compose yourself.--Collect your thoughts as well as you can. Tell me at
+once what has happened to you.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I had just sunk upon my knees, further from the altar than usual--for I
+arrived too late. I had just begun to raise my thoughts towards
+Heaven--when some person placed himself behind me--so close behind me!
+I could neither move forwards nor aside, however much I desired it, in
+my fear lest the devotion of my neighbour might interrupt my prayers.
+Devotion was the worst thing which I suspected. But it was not long
+before I heard a deep sigh close to my ear, and not the name of a
+saint;--no--the name--do not be angry, dear mother--the name of your
+daughter.--My own name! Oh, that a peal of thunder had at that
+moment made me deaf to the rest. The voice spoke of beauty and of
+love--complained that this day, which crowned my happiness (if such
+should prove the case) sealed his misery for ever. He conjured me--all
+this I was obliged to hear, but I did not look round. I wished to seem
+as if I was not listening. What more could I do? Nothing but pray that
+my guardian angel would strike me with deafness--even with eternal
+deafness. This was my prayer--the only prayer which I could utter. At
+length it was time to rise; the service came to an end. I trembled at
+the idea of being obliged to turn round--trembled at the idea of
+beholding him whose impiety had so much shocked me--and when I
+turned--when I beheld him----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Whom, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Guess, dear mother, guess: I thought I should have sunk into the earth.
+Himself!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Whom do you mean?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+The Prince!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+The Prince! Blest be your father's impatience! He was here just now,
+and would not stay till you returned.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+My father here--and not stay till I returned!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+If, in the midst of your confusion, you had told him too.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Well, dear mother--could he have found anything in my conduct deserving
+of censure?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+No--as little as in mine. And yet, yet--you do not know your father.
+When enraged, he would have mistaken the innocent for the guilty--in
+his anger he would have fancied me the cause of what I could neither
+prevent nor foresee. But proceed, my daughter, proceed. When you
+recognised the Prince, I trust that you were sufficiently composed to
+convince him by your looks, of the contempt which he deserved.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That I was not. After the glance by which I recognised him, I had not
+courage to cast a second. I fled.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+And the Prince followed you?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I did not know it till I had reached the porch, where I felt my hand
+seized--by him. Shame compelled me to stop; as an effort to extricate
+myself would have attracted the attention of every one who was passing.
+This was the only reflection of which I was capable, or which I at
+present remember. He spoke, and I replied--but what he said, or what I
+replied, I know not.--Should I recollect it, my dear mother, you shall
+hear it. At present I remember nothing further. My senses had forsaken
+me.--In vain do I endeavour to recollect how I got away from him, and
+escaped from the porch. I found myself in the street--I heard his steps
+behind me--I heard him follow me into the house, and pursue me up the
+stairs----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Fear has its peculiar faculty, my daughter. Never shall I forget the
+look with which you rushed into this room!--No. He dared not follow you
+so far.--Heavens! had your father known this!--How angry was he when I
+merely told him that the Prince had lately beheld you with admiration!
+Be at ease, however, my dear girl. Fancy what has happened to be a mere
+dream. The result will be less, even, than a dream. You will be assured
+to-day from all similar designs.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+No, mother! The Count must know it--to him I must relate it.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Not for the world. Wherefore? Why? Do you wish to make him uneasy
+without a cause? And granting that he may not become so at
+present--know, my child, the poison which does not operate immediately,
+is not on that account less dangerous. That which has no effect upon
+the lover, may produce a serious one upon the husband. The lover might
+even be flattered at winning the prize from so great a rival; but when
+he has won it--alas, my dear Emilia, the lover often becomes quite
+another being. Heaven preserve you from such experience!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+You know, dear mother, how willingly I ever submit to your superior
+judgment. But should he learn from another that the Prince spoke
+to me to-day, would not my silence sooner or later increase his
+uneasiness?--I think it would be better not to conceal anything from
+him.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Weakness--a fond weakness. No, on no account, my daughter! Tell him
+nothing. Let him observe nothing.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I submit. I have no will, dear mother, opposed to yours. Ah! (_sighing
+deeply_), I shall soon be well again. What a silly, timid thing I am!
+am I not, mother? I might have conducted myself otherwise, and should,
+perhaps, have compromised myself just a little.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+I would not say this, my daughter, till your own good sense had spoken,
+which I was sure would be as soon as your alarm was at an end. The
+Prince is a gallant. You are too little used to the unmeaning language
+of gallantry. In your mind a civility becomes an emotion--a compliment,
+a declaration--an idea, a wish--a wish, a design. A mere nothing, in
+this language, sounds like everything, while everything is in reality
+nothing.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Dear mother, my terror cannot but appear ridiculous to myself now. But
+my kind Appiani shall know nothing of it. He might, perhaps, think me
+more vain than virtuous----Ah! there he comes himself. That is his
+step.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+_Enter_ Appiani, _in deep meditation. His eyes are cast down, and he
+approaches without observing_ Claudia _and_ Emilia, _till the latter
+runs towards him_.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Ha! My dearest! I did not expect to find you in the ante-room.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I wish you to be cheerful, even where you do not expect to see me. Why
+so grave and solemn? Should not this day inspire joyful emotions?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+It is of greater value to me than my whole life; but it teems with so
+much bliss for me--perhaps it is this very bliss which makes me so
+grave--so solemn, as you express it (_espies_ Claudia). Ha! You too
+here, dear madam. This day I hope to address you by a more familiar
+name.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Which will be my greatest pride.--How happy you are, Emilia! Why would
+not your father share our delight?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+But a few minutes have elapsed since I tore myself from his arms--or
+rather he from mine.--What a man your father is, my Emilia! A pattern
+of every manly virtue! With what sentiments does his presence inspire
+my soul! Never is my resolution to continue just and good, so firm as
+when I see or think of him. And by what, but by fulfilling this
+resolution, can I make myself worthy of the honour to be called his
+son--to become your husband, dear Emilia?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And he would not wait for me!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Because, in my opinion, this brief interview with his Emilia would have
+distressed him too much, too deeply affected his soul.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+He expected to find you busy with your bridal ornaments, and heard----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What I have learnt from him with the tenderest admiration. Right, my
+Emilia. I shall be blessed with a pious wife--and one who is not proud
+of her piety.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+But let us not, whilst we attend to one subject, forget another. It is
+high time, Emilia. Go!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Go! Why?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Surely, my lord, you would not lead her to the altar in her present
+attire.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+In truth, I was not, till you spoke, aware of that. Who can behold
+Emilia, and take heed of her dress? Yet why should I not lead her to
+the altar thus?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+No, dear Count, not exactly thus; yet in a dress not much more gay. In
+a moment I shall be ready. I do not mean to wear those costly jewels,
+which were the last present of your prodigal generosity, no, nor
+anything suited to such jewels. Oh, I could quarrel with those jewels
+were they not your present--for thrice I've dreamt----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Indeed! I know nothing of that.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That while I wore them, every diamond changed suddenly to a pearl--and
+pearls, you know, dear mother, signify tears.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Child, the interpretation is more visionary than the dream. Were you
+not always more fond of pearls than diamonds?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I assuredly, dear mother--assuredly----
+
+                 APPIANI (_thoughtful and melancholy_).
+
+Signify tears!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+How! Does that affect you? You?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+It does, though I ought to be ashamed that such is the case; yet when
+the fancy is once disposed to sad impressions----
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+But why should yours be so? Guess the subject of my thoughts. What did
+I wear, and how did I look when I first attracted your attention? Do
+you remember?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Remember! I never see you in idea but in that dress, and I see you so,
+even when you are not thus attired.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I mean to wear one of the same colour and form--flowing and loose.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Excellent!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And my hair----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+In its own dark beauty, in curls formed by the hand of nature.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Not forgetting the rose. Right! Have a little patience, and you shall
+see me thus.                                  (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                    Count Appiani, Claudia Galotti.
+
+           APPIANI (_looks after her with a downcast mien_).
+
+"Pearls signify tears!"--a little patience! Yes! if we could but defy
+time! If a minute on the clock were not sometimes an age within us!
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Emilia's remark was no less just than quick, Count. You are to-day more
+grave than usual. And yet you are but a step from the object of your
+wishes. Do you repent that you have attained the wished-for goal?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+How could you, dear mother, suspect this of your son? But it is true. I
+am to-day unusually dejected and gloomy. All that I have seen, heard or
+dreamt, has preached since yesterday, and before yesterday this
+doctrine to me--to be but one step from the goal, and not to have
+attained it, is in reality the same. This one idea engrosses all my
+thoughts. What can it mean? I understand it not.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+You make me uneasy, Count.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+One thought succeeds another. I am vexed--angry with my friends and
+with myself.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Why so?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+My friends absolutely require, that, before I solemnize my marriage, I
+should acquaint the Prince with my intentions. They allow I am not
+bound to do this, but maintain that respect towards him demands it; and
+I have been weak enough to consent. I have already ordered my carriage
+for the purpose.
+
+                          CLAUDIA (_starts_).
+
+To wait upon the Prince!
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+         Pirro, _afterwards_ Marinelli, Count Appiani, Claudia.
+
+                             _Enter_ Pirro.
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+My lady, the Marquis Marinelli is at the door, and inquires for the
+Count.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+For me!
+
+                                 PIRRO.
+
+Here his lordship comes. (_Opens the door and exit_.)
+
+                           _Enter_ Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I ask pardon, madam. My lord Count, I called at your house, and was
+informed that I should find you here. I have important business with
+you. Once more pardon, madam. It will occupy but a few minutes.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+I will not impede it.                  (_Curtseys and exit_.)
+
+
+                                Scene X.
+
+                          Marinelli, Appiani.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Now, my lord?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I come from his Highness.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What are his commands?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am proud to be the bearer of this distinguished favour; and if Count
+Appiani will not wilfully misunderstand one of his most devoted
+friends----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Proceed, I pray, without more ceremony.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I will. The Prince is obliged to send an ambassador immediately to the
+Duke of Massa respecting his marriage with the Princess his daughter.
+He was long undetermined whom to appoint, till his choice at last has
+fallen upon you, my lord.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Upon me?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes--and if friendship may be allowed to boast, I was instrumental----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Truly I am at a loss for thanks. I had long renounced the hope of being
+noticed by the Prince.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am sure he only waited for a proper opportunity, and if the present
+mission be not sufficiently worthy of Count Appiani, I own my
+friendship has been too precipitate.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Friendship, friendship! every third word. With whom am I speaking? The
+Marquis Marinelli's friendship I never dreamt of gaining.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I acknowledge my fault, Count Appiani, my unpardonable fault in wishing
+to be your friend without your permission. But what of that? The favour
+of his Highness, and the dignity he offers, remain the same. I do not
+doubt you will accept them with pleasure.
+
+                 APPIANI (_after some consideration_).
+
+Undoubtedly.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Come, then, with me.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Whither?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To the Prince's palace at Dosalo. All is ready. You must depart to-day.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What say you? To-day?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes. Rather now than an hour hence. The business presses.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Indeed! Then I am sorry I must decline the honour which the Prince
+intended to confer upon me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+I cannot depart to-day,--nor to-morrow--nor the next day.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You are jesting, Count.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+With you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Incomparable! If with the Prince, the joke is so much the merrier.--You
+cannot?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+No, my lord, no--and I trust that the Prince himself will think my
+excuse sufficient.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am eager to hear it.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Oh, it is a mere trifle. I mean to be married to-day.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed!--and what then?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+And what then?--Your question shows a cursed simplicity!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+There are examples, Count, of marriages having been deferred. I do not
+mean to infer that the delay was pleasant to the bride and bridegroom.
+To them it was, no doubt, a trial, yet the sovereign's command----
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Sovereign's command? A sovereign of my own option, I am not so strictly
+bound to obey. I admit that you owe the Prince absolute obedience, but
+not I. I came to his court a volunteer. I wished to enjoy the honour of
+serving him, but not of being his slave. I am the vassal of a greater
+sovereign.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Greater or smaller, a monarch is a monarch.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Idle controversy! Enough! Tell the Prince what you have heard. Tell him
+I am sorry I cannot accept the honour, as I to-day intend to solemnize
+an union which will consummate my happiness.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Will you not at the same time inform him with whom?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+With Emilia Galotti.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The daughter of this family?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Yes.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Humph!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+What do you mean?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I mean that there would be the less difficulty in deferring the
+ceremony till your return.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+The ceremony?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes. The worthy parents will not think much about it.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+The worthy parents?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And Emilia will remain faithful to you, of course.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+_Of course_?----You are an impertinent ape, with your "of course."
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+This to me, Count?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Why not?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Heaven and hell! You shall hear from me.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Pshaw! The ape is malicious, but----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Death and damnation!--Count, I demand satisfaction.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+You shall have it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+----And would insist upon it instantly--but that I should not like to
+spoil the day for the loving bridegroom.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Good--natured creature!--(_seizes his arm_). I own an embassy to Massa
+does not suit me, but still I have time enough to take a walk with you.
+Come.
+
+       MARINELLI (_extricates himself from the_ Count's _grasp_).
+
+Patience, my lord, patience!                             (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene XI.
+
+                           Appiani, Claudia.
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Go, worthless wretch----Ha! that does me good. My blood
+circulates----I feel different and all the better.
+
+                    CLAUDIA (_hastily and alarmed_).
+
+Heavens! My lord--I overheard an angry altercation. Your cheek is
+flushed. What has happened?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Nothing, Madam, nothing. The chamberlain Marinelli has conferred a
+favour on me. He has saved me a visit to the Prince.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Indeed!
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+We can therefore leave town earlier. I go to give orders to my people,
+and shall return immediately. Emilia will, in the meantime, get ready.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+May I feel quite at ease, my lord?
+
+                                APPIANI.
+
+Perfectly so, dear Madam.                    (_Exeunt severally_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT III.
+
+     Scene, _an apartment in the_ Prince's _country palace_.
+
+
+                                Scene I.
+
+                    _Enter_ Prince _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In vain. He refused the proffered honour with the greatest contempt.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+This ends all hope, then. Things take their course,
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+According to all appearances.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I relied so firmly on your project--but who knows how ridiculously you
+acted? I ought to have recollected that though a blockhead's counsel
+may be good, it requires a clever man to execute it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A pretty reward, this!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Why should you be rewarded?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For having risked my life on the venture. Finding that neither raillery
+nor reason could induce the Count to sacrifice his love to honour, I
+tried to rouse his anger. I said things to him which made him
+forget himself. He used insulting expressions, and I demanded
+satisfaction--yes, satisfaction on the spot. One of us must fall,
+thought I. Should it be his fate, the field is ours--should it be
+mine--why, he must fly, and the Prince will at least gain time.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Did you act thus, Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes; he, who is ready to sacrifice his life for princes, ought to learn
+beforehand how grateful they are likely to be.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+And the Count? Report says that he is not the man to wait till
+satisfaction is a second time demanded.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+No doubt, in ordinary cases. Who can blame him? He said that he had
+then something of greater consequence than a duel to occupy his
+thoughts, and put me off till a week after his marriage.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+With Emilia Galotti. The idea drives me to distraction----Thus, then,
+the affair ended, and now you come hither to boast that you risked your
+life in my behalf--sacrificed yourself for me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What more, my lord, would you have had me do?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+More? As if you had done anything!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+May I be allowed to ask what your Highness has done for yourself? You
+were so fortunate as to see her at church. What is the result of your
+conference?
+
+                        PRINCE (_with a sneer_).
+
+You have curiosity enough--but I will satisfy it. All happened as I
+wished. You need take no further trouble, my most serviceable friend.
+She met my proposal more than half way. I ought to have taken her with
+me instantly. (_In a cold and commanding tone_.) Now you have heard
+what you wished to know, and may depart.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And may depart! Yes, yes. Thus the song ends, and so 'twould be were I
+to attempt the impossible. The impossible, did I say? No. Impossible it
+is not--only a daring attempt. Had we the girl in our power, I would
+answer for it that no marriage should take place.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Ay--you would answer for anything. I suppose, for instance, you would
+like to take a troop of my guards, lie in ambush by the highway, fall
+to the number of fifty upon one carriage, and bear the girl in triumph
+to me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A girl has been carried off before now by force, though there has been
+no appearance of force in the transaction.----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+If you were able to do this, you would not talk so much about it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+----But I cannot be answerable for the consequences. Unforeseen
+accidents may happen.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Is it my custom to make people answerable for what they cannot help?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Therefore your Highness will--(_a pistol is fired at a distance_). Ha!
+What was that? Did not my ears deceive me? Did not your Highness also
+hear a shot. And hark! Another!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What means this? What is the matter?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How if I were more active than you deemed me?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+More active! Explain, then----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In short, what I mentioned is now taking place.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Is it possible?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But forget not, Prince, what you just now promised. You pledge your
+word that----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The necessary precautions I hope have been taken.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes, as carefully as possible. The execution of my plan is entrusted to
+people on whom I can rely. The road, as you know, runs close by your
+park fence. There the carriage will be attacked by a party, apparently
+to rob the travellers. Another band (one of whom is my trusty servant)
+will rush from the park as if to assist those who are attacked. During
+the sham battle between the two parties, my servant will seize Emilia,
+as if to rescue her, and bring her through the park into the palace.
+This is the plan. What says your Highness now?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You surprise me beyond measure. A fearful anxiety comes o'er me.
+(Marinelli _walks to the window_.) What are you looking at?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+That must be the scene of action--yes, and see, some one in a mask has
+just leapt over the fence--doubtless to acquaint me with the result.
+Withdraw awhile, your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Ah, Marinelli----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well--now, doubtless, I have done too much--as I before had done too
+little.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not so--not so--yet I cannot perceive----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Perceive?--It is best done at one blow. Withdraw quickly. You must not
+be seen here.
+
+                                                  (_Exit_ Prince.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                   Marinelli _and presently_ Angelo.
+
+                MARINELLI (_goes again to the window_).
+
+The carriage is returning slowly to town. So slowly? and at each door a
+servant? These appearances do not please me; they show the plot has
+only half succeeded. They are driving some wounded person carefully,
+and he is not dead. The fellow in the mask comes nearer. 'Tis Angelo
+himself--foolhardy! But he knows the windings of this place. He beckons
+to me--he must know that he has succeeded.--Ha! ha! Count Appiani. You,
+who refused an embassy to Massa, have been obliged to go a longer
+journey. Who taught you to recognize apes so well? 'Tis true, they are
+malicious (_walks towards the door_). Well, Angelo?
+
+           _Enter_ Angelo, _with his mash in his hand_.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Be ready, my lord. She will be here directly.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How did you succeed in other respects?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+As you wished, I have no doubt.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How is it with the Count?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+So, so. But he must have had some suspicions, for he was not quite
+unprepared.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Quick, tell me--is he dead?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+I am sorry for him, poor man.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+There! Take that for thy compassion (_gives him a purse_).
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+And our poor Nicolo too, he has shared the same luck.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What! Loss on both sides?
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Yes. I could cry for the honest lad's fate; though I come in for
+another quarter of this purse by it; for I am his heir, since I avenged
+him. This is a law among us, and as good a law, methinks, as ever was
+made for the support of friendship and fidelity. This Nicolo, my
+lord----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+No more of your Nicolo! The Count----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Zounds! The Count finished him, and I finished the Count. He fell, and
+though he might be alive when they put him into the coach, I'll answer
+for it that he will never come alive out of it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Were you but sure of this, Angelo----
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+I'll forfeit your custom, if it be not true. Have you any further
+commands? For I have a long journey. We must be across the frontier
+before sunset.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Go, then.
+
+                                ANGELO.
+
+Should anything else occur in my way, you know where to inquire for me.
+What any other can venture to do will be no magic for me, and my terms
+are lower than any other's.                              (_Exit_.)
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+'Tis well--yet not so well as it might have been. Shame on thee,
+Angelo, to be such a niggard! Surely the Count was worthy of a second
+shot. Now, he may die in agony; poor Count! Shame, Angelo! It was a
+cruel and bungling piece of work. The Prince must not know what has
+happened. He himself must discover how advantageous this death is to
+him. Death! What would I not give to be certain of it!
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                         The Prince, Marinelli.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Here she comes up the avenue. She flies before the servants. Fear gives
+wings to her feet. She must not suspect our design. She thinks she is
+escaping from robbers. How long will her mistake last?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+At least we have her here.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But will not her mother come in search of her? Will not the Count
+follow her? What can we do then? How can I keep her from them?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To all this I confess I can make no reply. But we must see. Compose
+yourself, Prince. This first step was, at all events, necessary.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How so, if we are obliged to recede?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But perhaps we need not. There are a thousand things on which we may
+make further steps. Have you forgotten the chief one?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How can I have forgotten that of which I never thought? What mean you
+by the chief one?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The art of pleasing and persuading--which in a prince who loves can
+never fail.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Can never fail! True, except when it is most needed. I have already
+made a poor attempt in this art to-day. All my flattery, all my
+entreaties could not extract one word from her. Mute, trembling, and
+abashed, she stood before me like a criminal who fears the judge's
+fatal sentence. Her terror was infectious. I trembled also and
+concluded by imploring her forgiveness. Scarcely dare I speak to her
+again--and, at all events, I dare not be present when she arrives. You,
+Marinelli, must receive her. I will listen to your conversation, and
+join you when I am more collected.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+       Marinelli, _presently his servant_ Battista, _and_ Emilia.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If she did not see him fall--and of course she could not, as she fled
+instantly But she comes, and I too do not wish to be the first to meet
+her eye (_withdraws to a corner of the apartment_).
+
+                     _Enter_ Battista _and_ Emilia.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+This way--this way--dear lady.
+
+                       EMILIA (_out of breath_).
+
+Oh! I thank you, my friend--I thank you. But, Heavens! Where am I?
+Quite alone, too! Where are my mother, and the Count? They are surely
+coming? Are they not close behind me?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+I suppose so.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+You suppose so? Are you not certain? Have you not seen them? Were not
+pistols fired behind us?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Pistols? Was it so?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Surely. Oh, Heavens! and the Count or my mother is shot.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+I'll go in search of them instantly.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Not without me! I'll go with you! I must go with you. Come, my friend.
+
+          MARINELLI (_approaches as if he had just entered_).
+
+Ha! fair lady! What misfortune, or rather what good fortune--what
+fortunate misfortune has procured us the honour----
+
+                         EMILIA (_astonished_).
+
+How!--You here, my lord!--This then is doubtless your house. Pardon my
+intrusion. We have been attacked by robbers. Some good people came to
+our assistance,--and this honest man took me out of the carriage and
+conducted me hither. But I am alarmed to find that I alone am rescued.
+My mother must be still in danger. I heard pistols fired behind us.
+Perhaps she is dead,--and yet I live. Pardon me. I must away, I must
+return to the place, which I ought not to have left.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Compose yourself, dear lady. All is well. The beloved persons, for whom
+you feel this tender anxiety, will soon be here.--Run, Battista; they
+may perhaps not know where the lady is. See whether you can find them
+in any of the lodges, and conduct them hither instantly.
+
+                                                (_Exit_ Battista.)
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Are you sure they are all safe? Has nothing happened to them?--Oh, what
+a day of terrors has this been to me! But I ought not to remain here; I
+should hasten to meet them.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why so, dear lady? You are already breathless and exhausted. Compose
+yourself, and condescend to step into this room, where you will find
+better accommodation than here. I feel certain that the Prince has
+already found your gracious mother, and is escorting her hither.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Who do you say?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Our gracious Prince himself.
+
+                    EMILIA (_extremely terrified_).
+
+The Prince!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+He flew to your assistance at the first intelligence. He is highly
+incensed that such a crime should have been committed so near to his
+villa, nay, almost before his eyes. He has sent in search of the
+villains, and if they be seized, their punishment will be most severe.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+The Prince!--Where am I then?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+At Dosalo, the Prince's villa.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+How strange!--And you think he will soon arrive?--But with my mother
+too?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Here he is, already.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+              _The_ Prince, Emilia, _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Where is she? Where is she?--We have sought you everywhere, dear
+lady.--You are well, I hope? Now, all is well. The Count and your
+mother----
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Oh, your Highness! Where are they? Where is my mother?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not far off, close at hand.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Heavens! In what a situation shall I perhaps find one or other of them!
+For your Highness conceals from me--I perceive----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I conceal nothing, be assured. Lean on my arm, and accompany me to them
+without fear.
+
+                         EMILIA (_irresolute_).
+
+But--if they be not wounded--if my suspicions be not true--why are they
+not already here?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Hasten then, that all these sad apprehensions may at once be banished.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+What shall I do? (_wrings her hands_).
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How, dear lady! Can you harbour any suspicion against me?
+
+                     EMILIA (_falls at his feet_).
+
+On my knees I entreat you----
+
+                        PRINCE (_raising her_).
+
+I am quite ashamed.--Yes, Emilia, I deserve this mute reproach. My
+conduct this morning cannot be justified, or even excused. Pardon my
+weakness: I ought not to have made you uneasy by an avowal, from which
+I could expect no advantage. I was amply punished by the speechless
+agitation with which you listened to it, or rather did not listen to
+it. And if I might be allowed to think this accident the signal
+of more favourable fortune--the most wondrous respite of my final
+sentence--this accident, which allows me to behold and speak to you
+again before my hopes for ever vanish--this accident, which gives
+me an opportunity of imploring your forgiveness--yet will I--do not
+tremble--yet will I rely only and entirely on your looks. Not a sigh,
+not a syllable shall offend you. Only wound me not with suspicions--do
+not for a moment doubt the unbounded influence which you possess over
+me--only imagine not that you need any protection against me. And now
+come--come where delights more in harmony with your feelings, await
+you. (_Leads her away, not without opposition_.) Follow us, Marinelli.
+
+                                   (_Exeunt_ Prince _and_ Emilia.)
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Follow us! That means of course--Follow us not. And why should I follow
+them? He will now find how far he can proceed with her, without
+witnesses. All that I have to do is to prevent intrusion. From the
+Count I no longer expect it--but from her mother. Wonderful, indeed,
+would it be, were she to have departed quietly, leaving her daughter
+unprotected. Well, Battista, what now?
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                       Battista _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                         BATTISTA (_in haste_).
+
+The mother, my lord chamberlain----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+As I suspected. Where is she?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+She will be here immediately, unless you prevent it. When you ordered
+me to pretend to look for her, I felt little inclination to do so. But
+in the distance I heard her shrieks. She is in search of her daughter,
+and will discover the whole plot. All the people who inhabit this
+retired spot have gathered round her, and each vies with his neighbour
+to show her the way. Whether she has been told that you are here, or
+that the Prince is here, I know not. What is to be done?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Let us see (_considering_). Refuse her admittance when she knows that
+her daughter is here? That will not do. She will certainly open her
+eyes when she finds her lambkin in the clutches of the wolf. Eyes! They
+would be of little consequence; but Heaven have mercy on our ears!
+Well, well. A woman's lungs are not inexhaustible. She will be silent,
+when she can shriek no longer. Besides, the mother it is whom we should
+gain over to our side--and if I be a judge of mothers--to be a sort of
+prince's step--mother would flatter most of them. Let her come,
+Battista, let her come.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Hark, my lord!
+
+                          CLAUDIA (_within_).
+
+Emilia! Emilia! My child! Where are you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Go, Battista, and use your endeavours to dismiss her inquisitive
+companions.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Claudia, Battista, Marinelli.
+
+          _As_ Battista _is going_, Claudia _meets him_.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Ha! You took her out of the carriage. You led her away. I know you
+again. Where is she? Speak, wretch.
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Are these your thanks?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Oh, if you merit thanks (_in a mild tone_), forgive me, worthy man.
+Where is she? Let me no longer be deprived of her. Where is she?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+She could not be more safe, were she in heaven.--My master, here, will
+conduct you to her. (_Observes that some people are beginning to
+follow_ Claudia.) Back there! Begone! (_Exit, driving them away_.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                          Claudia, Marinelli.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Your master? (_espies_ Marinelli, _and starts_). Ha! Is this your
+_master_? You here, Sir--and my daughter here--and you--you will
+conduct me to her?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+With great pleasure, madam.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Hold! It just occurs to me. It was you, I think, who visited Count
+Appiani this morning at my house,--whom I left alone with him,--and
+with whom he afterwards had a quarrel?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A quarrel? That I did not know. We had a trifling dispute respecting
+affairs of state.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+And your name is Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Marquis Marinelli.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+True. Hear, then, Marquis Marinelli. Your name, accompanied with a
+curse----but no--I will not wrong the noble man--the curse was inferred
+by myself--your name was the last word uttered by the dying Count.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The dying Count? Count Appiani?----You hear, Madam, what most surprises
+me in this your strange address--the dying Count?--What else you mean
+to imply, I know not.
+
+          CLAUDIA (_with asperity, and in a deliberate tone_).
+
+Marinelli was the last word uttered by the dying Count.--Do you
+understand me now? I myself did not at first understand it, though it
+was spoken in a tone--a tone which I still hear. Where were my senses
+that I could not understand it instantly?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well, Madam, I was always the Count's friend--his intimate friend. If,
+therefore, he pronounced my name at the hour of death----
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+In that tone!--I cannot imitate--I cannot describe it--but it
+signified----everything. What! Were we attacked by robbers? No--by
+assassins--by hired assassins: and Marinelli was the last word uttered
+by the dying Count, in such a tone----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In such a tone? Did any one ever hear that a tone of voice used in a
+moment of terror could be a ground of accusation against an honest man?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Oh that I could appear before a tribunal of justice, and imitate that
+tone? Yet, wretch that I am! I forget my daughter. Where is she--dead
+too? Was it my daughter's fault that Appiani was thy enemy?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I revere the mother's fears, and therefore pardon you.--Come, Madam.
+Your daughter is in an adjoining room, and I hope her alarms are by
+this time at an end. With the tenderest solicitude is the Prince
+himself employed in comforting her.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Who?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+The Prince! Do you really say the Prince--our Prince?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Who else should it be?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Wretched mother that I am!--And her father, her father! He will curse
+the day of her birth. He will curse me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For Heaven's sake, Madam, what possesses you?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+It is clear. To-day--at church--before the eyes of the All-pure--in the
+presence of the Eternal, this scheme of villainy began. (_To_
+Marinelli.) Murderer! Mean, cowardly murderer! Thou wast not bold
+enough to meet him face to face, but base enough to bribe assassins
+that another might be gratified. Thou scum of murderers! honourable
+murderers would not endure thee in their company. Why may I not spit
+all my gall, all my rancour into thy face, thou panderer?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You rave, good woman. Moderate your voice, at any rate, and remember
+where you are.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Where I am! Remember where I am! What cares the lioness, when robbed of
+her young, in whose forest she roars?
+
+                           EMILIA (_within_).
+
+Ha! My mother! I hear my mother's voice.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+Her voice? 'Tis she! She has heard me. Where are you, my child?--I
+come, I come (_rushes into the room, followed by_ Marinelli).
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT IV.
+
+                         Scene I.--_The same_.
+
+                      The Prince _and_ Marinelli.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Come, Marinelli, I must collect myself--I look to you for explanation.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Oh! maternal anger! Ha! ha! ha!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You laugh?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Had you, Prince, but seen her frantic conduct in this room! You heard
+how she screamed; yet how tame she became as soon as she beheld you!
+Ha! ha! Yes--I never yet knew the mother who scratched a prince's eyes
+out, because he thought her daughter handsome.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You are a poor observer. The daughter fell senseless into her mother's
+arms. This made the mother forget her rage. It was her daughter, not
+me, whom she spared, when, in a low voice, she uttered--what I myself
+had rather not have heard--had rather not have understood.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What means your Highness?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Why this dissimulation? Answer me. Is it true or false?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And if it were true!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+If it were! It is, then--he is dead (_in a threatening tone_).
+Marinelli! Marinelli!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+By the God of justice I swear that I am innocent of this blood. Had you
+previously told me that the Count's life must be sacrificed--God is my
+witness I would as soon have consented to lose my own.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Had I previously told you! As if the Count's death was part of my plan!
+I charged Angelo that on his soul he should take care that no person
+suffered injury; and this, too, would have been the case, had not the
+Count begun the fray, and shot the first assailant on the spot.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Indeed! he ought to have understood the joke better.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+So that Angelo was enraged, and instantly avenged his comrade's
+death----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Well, that is certainly very natural.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I have reproved him for it.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Reproved him! How good--natured! Advise him never to appear again in my
+dominions; for my reproof might not be found so good-natured.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Just as I foresaw! I and Angelo.--Design and accident; all the
+same.--It was, however, agreed, and indeed promised, that I should not
+be answerable for any accidents which might happen.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+_Might_ happen, say you, or _must_?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Still better! Yet one word, your Highness, before you say in harsh
+phrase what you think of me. The Count's death was far from being a
+matter of indifference to me. I had challenged him. He left the world
+without giving me satisfaction, and my honour, consequently, remains
+tarnished. Allowing, therefore, what under other circumstances I
+deserved the suspicion you allude to, can I in this? (_with assumed
+anger_.) He who can so suspect me----
+
+                          PRINCE (_yielding_).
+
+Well, well!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Oh that he were still alive! I would give all that I possess--(_with
+bitterness_)--even the favour of my Prince--even that treasure,
+invaluable and never to be trifled with, would I give.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Well, well! I understand you. His death was accidental, merely
+accidental--you assure me that it was so, and I believe it. But will
+any one else believe it? Will Emilia--her mother--the world?
+
+                         MARINELLI (_coldly_).
+
+Scarcely.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What, then, will they believe? You shrug your shoulders. They will
+suppose Angelo the tool and me the prime mover.
+
+                    MARINELLI (_still more coldly_).
+
+Probable enough!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Me! me, myself!--or from this hour I must resign all hopes of Emilia.
+
+            MARINELLI (_in a tone of perfect indifference_).
+
+Which you must also have done, had the Count lived.
+
+                         PRINCE (_violently_).
+
+Marinelli!--(_checking his warmth_)--But you shall not rouse my anger.
+Be it so. It is so. You mean to imply that the Count's death is
+fortunate for me;--the best thing which could have happened--the only
+circumstance which could bring my passion to a happy issue--and,
+therefore, no matter how it happened. A Count more or less in the world
+is of little consequence. Am I right?--I am not alarmed at a little
+crime; but it must be a secret little crime, a serviceable little
+crime. But ours has not been either secret or serviceable. It has
+opened a passage only to close it again. Every one will lay it to our
+door. And, after all, we have not perpetrated it at all. This can only
+be the result of your wise and wonderful management.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+If your Highness have it so----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Why not?--I want an explanation----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am accused of more than I deserve.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I want an explanation.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well then, what error in my plans has attached such obvious suspicion
+to the Prince? The fault lies in the master-stroke which your Highness
+so graciously put to my plans----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Allow me to say that the step which you took at church this
+morning--with whatever circumspection it was done, or however
+inevitable it might be--was not part of my programme.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How did that injure it?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Not indeed the whole plan, but its opportuneness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Do I understand you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+To speak more intelligibly. When I undertook the business, Emilia knew
+nothing of the Prince's attachment. Her mother just as little. How if I
+formed my foundation upon this circumstance, and in the meantime the
+Prince was undermining my edifice?
+
+                   PRINCE (_striking his forehead_).
+
+Damnation!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How, if he himself betrayed his intentions?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Cursed interposition!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For had he not so behaved himself I should like to know what part of my
+plan could have raised the least suspicion in the mind of the mother or
+the daughter?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You are right.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And therein I certainly am very wrong.--Pardon me.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                    Battista, The Prince, Marinelli.
+
+                     _Enter_ BATTISTA (_hastily_).
+
+The Countess is arrived.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+The Countess? What Countess?
+
+                               BATTISTA.
+
+Orsina!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Orsina? Marinelli!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am as much astonished as yourself.
+
+                        PRINCE (_to_ Battista).
+
+Go--run--Battista. She must not alight. I am not here--not here to her.
+She must return this instant. Go, go. (_Exit_ Battista). What does the
+silly woman want? How dares she take this liberty? How could she know
+that we were here? Is she come as a spy? Can she have heard anything?
+Oh, Marinelli, speak, answer me. Is the man offended, who vows he is my
+friend--offended by a paltry altercation? Shall I beg pardon?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Prince, as soon as you recover yourself, I am yours again, with my
+whole soul. The arrival of Orsina is as much an enigma to me as to you.
+But she will not be denied. What will you do?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I will not speak to her. I will withdraw.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Right! Do so instantly; I will receive her.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But merely to dismiss her. No more. We have other business to perform.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Not so, not so. Our other things are done. Summon up resolution and all
+deficiencies will be supplied. But do I not hear her? Hasten, Prince.
+In that room (_pointing to an adjoining apartment, to which the_ Prince
+_retires_)--you may, if you please, listen to our conversation. She
+comes, I fear, at an unpropitious moment for her.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                    The Countess Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                ORSINA (_without perceiving_ Marinelli).
+
+What means this? No one comes to meet me, but a shameless servant, who
+endeavours to obstruct my entrance. Surely I am at Dosalo, where, on
+former occasions, an army of attendants rushed to receive me--where
+love and ecstasy awaited me. Yes. The place is the same, but----Ha! you
+here, Marinelli? I am glad the Prince has brought you with him. Yet,
+no. My business with his Highness must be transacted with himself only.
+Where is he?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince, Countess?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Who else?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You suppose that he is here, then,--or know it, perhaps. He, however,
+does not expect a visit from your ladyship.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Indeed! He has not then received my letter this morning.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your letter? But--yes. I remember he mentioned that he had received
+one.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Well? Did I not in that letter request he would meet me here to-day? I
+own he did not think proper to return a written answer; but I learnt
+that an hour afterwards he drove from town to Dosalo. This I thought a
+sufficient answer, and therefore I have come.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A strange accident!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Accident! It was an agreement--at least as good as an agreement. On my
+part, the letter--on his, the deed. How you stand staring, Marquis!
+What surprises you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You seemed resolved yesterday never to appear before the Prince again.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Night is a good councillor. Where is he? Where is he? Doubtless in the
+chamber, whence sighs and sobs were issuing as I passed. I wished to
+enter, but the impertinent servant would not let me pass.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Dearest Countess----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I heard a woman's shriek. What means this, Marinelli? Tell me--if I be
+your dearest Countess--tell me. A curse on these court slaves! Their
+tales! their lies! But what matters it whether you choose to tell me or
+not? I will see for myself.
+
+                    MARINELLI (_holding her back_).
+
+Whither would you go?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Where I ought to have gone long since. Is it proper, think you,
+that I should waste any time in idle conversation with you in the
+ante-chamber, when the Prince expects me in the saloon?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You are mistaken, Countess. The Prince does not expect you here. He
+cannot--will not see you.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+And yet is here, in consequence of my letter.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Not in consequence of your letter.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+He received it, you say.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes, but he did not read it.
+
+                         ORSINA (_violently_).
+
+Not read it! (_Less violently_.) Not read it! (_Sorrowfully, and wiping
+away a tear_.) Not even read it!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+From preoccupation, I am certain, not contempt.
+
+                         ORSINA (_with pride_).
+
+Contempt! Who thought of such a thing? To whom do you use the term?
+Marinelli, your comfort is impertinent. Contempt! Contempt! To me! (_In
+a milder tone_.) It is true that he no longer loves me. That is
+certain. And in place of love something else has filled his soul. It is
+natural. But why should this be contempt? Indifference would be enough.
+Would it not, Marinelli?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Certainly, certainly.
+
+                    ORSINA (_with a scornful look_).
+
+Certainly! What an oracle, who can be made to say what one pleases!
+Indifference in the place of love!--That means nothing in the place of
+something. For learn, thou mimicking court-parrot, learn from a woman,
+that indifference is but an empty word, a mere sound which means
+nothing. The mind can only be indifferent to objects of which it does
+not think; to things which for itself have no existence. Only
+indifferent for a thing that is nothing--that is as much as saying not
+indifferent. Is that meaning beyond thee, man?
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+Alas! how prophetic were my fears?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+What do you mutter?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Mere admiration! Who does not know, Countess, that you are a
+philosopher?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Am I not? True; I am a philosopher. But have I now shown it; ah, shame!
+If I have shown it, and have often done so, it were no wonder if the
+Prince despised me. How can man love a creature which, in spite of him,
+will _think_? A woman who thinks is as silly as a man who uses paint.
+She ought to laugh--do nothing but laugh, that the mighty lords of the
+creation may be kept in good humour--What makes me laugh now,
+Marinelli? Why, the accidental circumstance that I should have written
+to the Prince to come hither--that he should not have read my letter
+and nevertheless have come. Ha! ha! ha! 'Tis an odd accident, very
+pleasant and amusing. Why don't you laugh, Marinelli? The mighty lords
+of the creation may laugh, though we poor creatures dare not think.
+(_In a serious and commanding tone_.) Then laugh, you!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Presently, Countess, presently.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Blockhead! while you speak the proper moment is for ever past. No. Do
+not laugh--for mark me, Marinelli, (_with emotion_) that which makes me
+laugh, has, like every thing in the world, its serious side. Accident!
+Could it be accidental that the Prince, who little thought that he
+would see me here, must see me?--Accident! Believe me, Marinelli, the
+word accident is blasphemy. Nothing under the sun is accidental, and
+least of all this, of which the purpose is so evident.--Almighty and
+all--bounteous Providence, pardon me that I joined this poor weak
+sinner in giving the name of accident to what so plainly is Thy
+work--yes, Thy immediate work. (_In a hasty tone to_ Marinelli.) Dare
+not again to lead me thus astray from truth.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+This is going too far (_aside_)--But, Countess----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Peace with your _but_--that word demands reflection, and--my head, my
+head!--(_Puts her hand to her forehead_)--Contrive that I may speak to
+the Prince immediately, or I shall soon want strength to do so. You
+see, Marinelli, that I must speak to him--that I am resolved to speak
+to him.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                     The Prince, Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                   PRINCE (_aside, as he advances_).
+
+I must come to his assistance.
+
+    ORSINA (_espies him, but remains irresolute whether to approach
+                             him or not_).
+
+Ha! There he is.
+
+       PRINCE (_walks straight across the room towards the other
+                             apartments_).
+
+Ha! The fair Countess, as I live. How sorry I am, Madam, that I can
+to-day so ill avail myself of the honour of your visit. I am engaged. I
+am not alone. Another time, dear Countess, another time. At present
+stay no longer--no longer, I beg. And you, Marinelli--I want you.
+(_Exit_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                           Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your ladyship has now heard, from himself, what you would not believe
+from my lips, have you not?
+
+                      ORSINA (_as if petrified_).
+
+Have I? Have, I indeed?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Most certainly.
+
+                      ORSINA (_deeply affected_).
+
+"I am engaged, I am not alone." Is this all the excuse I am worth? For
+whose dismissal would not these words serve? For every importunate, for
+every beggar. Could he not frame one little falsehood for me? Engaged!
+With what? Not alone! Who can be with him? Marinelli, dear Marinelli,
+be compassionate--tell me a falsehood on your own account. What can a
+falsehood cost you? What has he to do? Who is with him? Tell me, tell
+me. Say anything which first occurs to you, and I will go.
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+On this condition, I may tell her part of the truth.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Quick, Marinelli, and I will go. He said, "Another time, dear
+Countess!" Did he not? That he may keep his promise--that he may have
+no pretext to break it--quick, then, Marinelli,--tell me a falsehood,
+and I will go.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince, dear Countess, is really not alone. There are persons with
+him, whom he cannot leave for a moment--persons, who have just escaped
+imminent danger. Count Appiani----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Is with him! What a pity that I know this to be false! Quick, another!
+for Count Appiani, if you do not know it, has just been assassinated by
+robbers. I met the carriage, with his body in it, as I came from town.
+Or did I not? Was it a dream?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Alas, it was not a dream. But they who accompanied the Count were
+fortunately rescued, and are now in this palace; namely, a lady to whom
+he was betrothed, and whom, with her mother, he was conducting to
+Sabionetta, to celebrate his nuptials.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+They are with the Prince! A lady and her mother! Is the lady handsome?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The Prince is extremely sorry for her situation.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+That he would be, I hope, even if she were hideous--for her fate is
+dreadful. Poor girl! at the moment he was to become thine for ever, he
+was torn for ever from thee. Who is she? Do I know her? I have of late
+been so much out of town, that I am ignorant of every thing.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It is Emilia Galotti.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+What? Emilia Galotti? Oh, Marinelli, let me not mistake this lie for
+truth.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Emilia Galotti?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Yes. Whom you can scarcely know.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I do know her--though our acquaintance only began to-day. Emilia
+Galotti! Answer me seriously. Is Emilia Galotti the unfortunate lady
+whom the Prince is consoling?
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+Can I have disclosed too much?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+And Count Appiani was her destined bridegroom--Count Appiani, who was
+shot to-day?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Exactly.
+
+                     ORSINA (_clapping her hands_).
+
+Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+What now?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I could kiss the devil that tempted him to do it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Whom? Tempted? To do what?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Yes, I could kiss--him--even wert thou that devil, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Countess!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Come hither. Look at me--steadfastly--eye to eye.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Well?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Know you not my thoughts?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How can I?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Have you no concern in it?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+In what?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Swear. No, do not swear, for that might be another crime. But
+yes--swear. One sin more or less is of no consequence to a man who is
+already damned. Have you no concern in it?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+You alarm me, Countess.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Indeed! Now, Marinelli--has your good heart no suspicion?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Suspicion? Of what?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+'Tis well. Then I will entrust you with a secret--a secret, which will
+make each hair upon your head stand on end. But here, so near the door,
+some one might overhear us. Come here--(_puts her finger to her
+mouth_)--mark me, it is a secret--a profound secret. (_Places her mouth
+to his ear, as if about to whisper, and shouts as loudly as she can_)
+The Prince is a murderer!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Countess! Countess! Have you lost your senses?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Senses? Ha! ha! ha! (_laughing loudly_). I have very seldom, if
+ever, been so satisfied with my understanding as I am at this moment.
+Depend upon it, Marinelli--but it is between ourselves--(_in a low
+voice_)--the Prince is a murderer--the murderer of Count Appiani. The
+Count was assassinated, not by robbers, but by the Prince's myrmidons,
+by the Prince himself.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+How can so horrid a suspicion fall from your lips, or enter your
+imagination?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+How? Very naturally. This Emilia Galotti, who is now in the palace,
+and whose bridegroom--was thus trundled head over heels out of the
+world--this Emilia Galotti did the Prince to-day accost in the Church
+of the Dominicans, and held a lengthy conversation with her. That I
+know, for my spies not only saw it, but heard what he said. Now, sir,
+have I lost my senses? Methinks I connect the attendant circumstances
+very tolerably together. Or has all this happened, too, by accident? If
+so, Marinelli, you have as little idea of the wickedness of man as you
+have of prevision.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Countess, you would talk your life into danger----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Were I to mention this to others? So much the better! So much the
+better! To-morrow I will repeat it aloud in the market-place--and, if
+any one contradict me--if any one contradict me, he was the murderer's
+accomplice. Farewell. (_As she is going, she meets_ Odoardo _entering
+hastily_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                      Odoardo, Orsina, Marinelli.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Pardon me, gracious lady----
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+I can grant no pardon here, for I can take no offence. You must apply
+to this gentleman (_pointing to_ Marinelli).
+
+                          MARINELLI (_aside_).
+
+The father! This completes the business.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Pardon a father, sir, who is in the greatest embarrassment, for
+entering unannounced.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Father!--(_turning round again_)--Of Emilia, no doubt! Ha! Thou art
+welcome.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+A servant came in haste to tell me that my family was in danger near
+here. I flew hither, he mentioned, and found that Count Appiani has
+been wounded--and carried back to town--and that my wife and daughter
+have found refuge in the palace. Where are they, sir, where are they?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Be calm, Colonel. Your wife and daughter have sustained no injury save
+from terror. They are both well. The Prince is with them. I will
+immediately announce you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Why announce? merely _announce_ me?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For reasons--on account of--on account of--you know, sir, that you are
+not upon the most friendly terms with the Prince. Gracious as may be
+his conduct towards your wife and daughter--they are ladies--will your
+unexpected appearance be welcome to him?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+You are right, my lord, you are right.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But, Countess, may I not first have the honour of handing you to your
+carriage?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+By no means.
+
+       MARINELLI (_taking her hand, not in the most gentle way_).
+
+Allow me to perform my duty.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Softly!--I excuse you, Marquis. Why do such as you ever consider mere
+politeness a duty, and neglect as unimportant what is really an
+essential duty? To announce this worthy man immediately is your duty.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Have you forgotten what the Prince himself commanded?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Let him come, and repeat his commands. I shall expect him.
+
+                  MARINELLI (_draws_ Odoardo _aside_).
+
+I am obliged to leave you, Colonel, with a lady whose intellect--you
+understand me, I mention this that you may know in what way to treat
+her remarks, which are sometimes singular. It were better not to enter
+into conversation with her.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Very well. Only make haste, my lord.
+
+                                               (_Exit_ Marinelli.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Orsina, Odoardo.
+
+ORSINA (_after a pause, during which she has surveyed_ Odoardo _with a
+look of compassion, while he has cast towards her a glance of
+curiosity_).
+
+Alas! What did he say to you, unfortunate man?
+
+                        ODOARDO (_half aside_).
+
+Unfortunate!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Truth it certainly was not--at least, not one of those sad truths which
+await you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Which await me? Do I, then, not know enough? Madam--but proceed,
+proceed.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+You know nothing?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Nothing.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Worthy father! What would I give that you were my father! Pardon me.
+The unfortunate so willingly associate together. I would faithfully
+share your sorrows--and your anger.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Sorrows and anger? Madam--but I forget--go on.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Should she even be your only daughter--your only child--but it matters
+not. An unfortunate child is ever an only one.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Unfortunate?--Madam! But why do I attend to her? And yet, by Heaven, no
+lunatic speaks thus.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Lunatic? That, then, was the secret which he told you of me. Well,
+well. It is perhaps not one of his greatest falsehoods. I feel that I
+am something like one; and believe me, sir, they who, under certain
+circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+What must I think?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Treat me not with contempt, old man. You possess strong sense. I know
+it by your resolute and reverend mien. You also possess sound judgment,
+yet I need but speak one word, and both these qualities are fled for
+ever.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Oh, Madam, they will have fled before you speak that word, unless you
+pronounce it soon. Speak, I conjure you; or it is not true that you are
+one of that good class of lunatics who claim our pity and respect; you
+are naught else than a common fool. You cannot have what you never
+possessed.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Mark my words, then. What do you know, who fancy that you know enough?
+That Appiani is wounded? Wounded only? He is dead.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Dead? Dead? Woman, you abide not by your promise. You said you would
+rob me of my reason, but you break my heart.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Thus much by the way. Now, let me proceed. The bridegroom is dead, and
+the bride, your daughter, worse than dead.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Worse? Worse than dead? Say that she too is dead--for I know but one
+thing worse.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+She is not dead; no, good father, she is alive, and will now just begin
+to live indeed; the finest, merriest fool's paradise of a life--as long
+as it lasts.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Say the word, Madam! The single word, which is to deprive me of my
+reason! Out with it! Distil not thus your poison drop by drop. That
+single word at once!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+You yourself shall put the letters of it together. This morning the
+Prince spoke to your daughter at church; this afternoon he has her at
+his----his summer-palace.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Spoke to her at church? The Prince to my daughter?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+With such familiarity and such fervour. Their agreement was about no
+trifling matter; and if they did agree, all the better: all the better
+if your daughter made this her voluntary asylum. You understand--and in
+that case this is no forcible seduction, but only a trifling--trifling
+assassination.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Calumny! Infamous calumny! I know my daughter. If there be murder here,
+there is seduction also, (_Looks wildly round, stamping and foaming_.)
+Now, Claudia! Now, fond mother! Have we not lived to see a day of joy?
+Oh, the gracious Prince! Oh, the mighty honour!
+
+                           ORSINA (_aside_).
+
+Have I roused thee, old man?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Here I stand before the robber's cave. (_Throws his coat back on both
+sides, and perceives he has no weapon_.) 'Tis a marvel that, in my
+haste, I have not forgotten my hands too. (_Feeling in all his
+pockets_.) Nothing, nothing.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Ha! I understand, and can assist you. I have brought one. (_Produces a
+dagger_.) There! Take it, take it quickly, ere any one observes us. I
+have something else, too--poison--but that is for women, not for men.
+Take this (_forcing the dagger upon him_), take it.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I thank thee. Dear child, whosoever again asserts thou art a lunatic,
+he shall answer it to me.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Conceal it, instantly. (Odoardo _hides the dagger_.) The opportunity
+for using it is denied to me. You will not fail to find one, and you
+will seize the first that comes, if you are a man. I am but a woman,
+yet I came hither resolute. We, old man, can trust each other, for we
+are both injured, and by the same seducer. Oh, if you knew how
+preposterously, how inexpressibly, how incomprehensibly, I have been
+injured by him, you would almost forget his conduct towards yourself.
+Do you know me? I am Orsina, the deluded, forsaken Orsina--perhaps
+forsaken only for your daughter. But how is she to blame? Soon she also
+will be forsaken; then another, another, and another. Ha! (_As if in
+rapture_) What a celestial thought! When all who have been victims of
+his arts shall form a band, and we shall be converted into Maenads, into
+furies; what transport will it be to tear him piecemeal, limb from
+limb, to wallow through his entrails, and wrench from its seat the
+traitor's heart--that heart which he promised to bestow on each, and
+gave to none. Ha! that indeed will be a glorious revelry!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                       Claudia, Odoardo, Orsina.
+
+                           _Enter_ Claudia.
+
+     CLAUDIA (_looks round, and as soon as she espies her husband,
+                          runs towards him_.)
+
+I was right. Our protector, our deliverer! Are you really here? Do I
+indeed behold you, Odoardo? From their whisper and their manner I knew
+it was the case. What shall I say to you, if you are still ignorant?
+What shall I say to you if you already know everything? But we are
+innocent. I am innocent. Your daughter is innocent. Innocent; wholly
+innocent.
+
+     ODOARDO (_who, on seeing his wife, has endeavoured to compose
+                               himself_).
+
+'Tis well. Be calm, and answer me.--(_To_ Orsina)--Not that I doubt
+your information, Madam. Is the Count dead?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+He is.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Is it true that the Prince spoke this morning to Emilia, at the church?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+It is; but if you knew how much she was alarmed--with what terror she
+rushed home.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Now, was my information false?
+
+                    ODOARDO (_with a bitter laugh_).
+
+I would not that it were! For worlds I would not that it were!
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Am I a lunatic?
+
+                ODOARDO (_wildly pacing the apartment_).
+
+Oh!--nor as yet am I.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+You commanded me to be calm, and I obeyed--My dear husband, may I--may
+I entreat----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+What do you mean? Am I not calm? Who can be calmer than I? (_Putting
+restraint upon himself_.) Does Emilia know that Appiani is dead?
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+She cannot know it, but I fear that she suspects it, because he does
+not appear.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And she weeps and sobs.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+No more. That is over, like her nature, which you know. She is the most
+timid, yet the most resolute of her sex; incapable of governing her
+first emotions, but upon the least reflection calm and prepared for
+all. She keeps the Prince at a distance--she speaks to him in a
+tone----Let us, dear Odoardo, depart immediately.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I came on horseback hither. What is to be done? You, Madam, will
+probably return to town?
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+Immediately.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+May I request you to take my wife with you.
+
+                                ORSINA.
+
+With pleasure.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Claudia, this is the Countess Orsina, a lady of sound sense, my friend
+and benefactress. Accompany her to town, and send our carriage hither
+instantly. Emilia must not return to Guastalla. She shall go with me.
+
+                                CLAUDIA.
+
+But--if only--I am unwilling to part from the child.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Is not her father here? I shall be admitted at last. Do not delay!
+Come, my lady. (_Apart to her_.) You shall hear from me.--Come,
+Claudia. (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT V.
+
+
+                         Scene I.--_As before_.
+
+                         The Prince, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+From this window your Highness may observe him. He is walking to and
+fro under the arcade. Now he turns this way. He comes; no, he turns
+again. He has not yet altogether made up his mind; but is much calmer,
+or at least appears so. To us this is unimportant. He will scarcely
+dare utter the suspicions which these women have expressed! Battista
+says that he desired his wife to send the carriage hither as soon as
+she should reach the town, for he came hither on horseback. Mark my
+words. When he appears before your Highness, he will humbly return
+thanks for the gracious protection which you were pleased to afford to
+his family, will recommend himself and his daughter to your further
+favour, quietly take her to town, and with perfect submission await the
+further interest which your Highness may think proper to take in the
+welfare of his child.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But should he not be so resigned--and I scarcely think he will, I know
+him too well to expect it--he may, perhaps, conceal his suspicions, and
+suppress his indignation; but instead of conducting Emilia to town, he
+may take her away and keep her with himself, or place her in some
+cloister beyond my dominions. What then?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Love's fears are farsighted. But he will not.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+But, if he were to do it, what would the death of the unfortunate Count
+avail us?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why this gloomy supposition? "Forward!" shouts the victor, and asks not
+who falls near him--friend or foe. Yet if the old churl should act as
+you fear, prince--(_After some consideration_) I have it. His wish
+shall prove the end of his success. I'll mar his plan. But we must not
+lose sight of him. (_Walks again to the window_.) He had almost
+surprised us. He comes. Let us withdraw awhile, and in the meanwhile,
+Prince, you shall hear how we can elude the evil you apprehend.
+
+                   PRINCE (_in a threatening tone_).
+
+But, Marinelli----
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The most innocent thing in the world.                  (_Exeunt_.)
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Still no one here? 'Tis well. They allow me time to get still cooler. A
+lucky chance. Nothing is more unseemly than a hoary-headed man
+transported with the rage of youth. So I have often thought, yet I have
+suffered myself to be aroused----by whom? By a woman whom jealousy had
+driven to distraction. What has injured virtue to do with the revenge
+of vice? I have but to save the former. And thy cause, my son--my
+son----I could never weep, and will not learn the lesson now. There is
+another, who will avenge thy cause. Sufficient for me that thy murderer
+shall not enjoy the fruit of his crime. May this torment him more than
+even the crime itself; and when at length loathsome satiety shall drive
+him from one excess to another, may the recollection of having failed
+in this poison the enjoyment of all! In every dream may the bride
+appear to him, led to his bedside by the murdered bridegroom; and when,
+in spite of this, he stretches forth his sinful arms to seize the
+prize, may he suddenly hear the derisive laughter of hell echo in his
+ears, and so awake.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                          Marinelli, Odoardo.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+We have been looking for you, Sir.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Has my daughter been here?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+No; the Prince.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I beg his pardon. I have been conducting the Countess to her carriage.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+A good lady!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And where is your lady?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She accompanied the Countess that she might send my carriage hither. I
+would request the Prince to let me stay with my daughter till it
+arrives.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why this ceremony? The Prince would have felt pleasure in conducting
+your daughter and her mother to town.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+My daughter at least would have been obliged to decline that honour.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why so?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She will not go to Guastalla again.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Indeed! Why not?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Count Appiani is dead.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+For that very reason----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She must go with me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+With you?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+With me.--I tell you the Count is dead--though she may not know it.
+What therefore has she to do in Guastalla? She must go with me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The future residence of the lady must certainly depend upon her
+father--but at present----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well? What?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+At present, sir, you will, I hope, allow her to be conveyed to
+Guastalla.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+My daughter, conveyed to Guastalla? Why so?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Why! Consider----
+
+                         ODOARDO (_incensed_).
+
+Consider! consider! consider that there is nothing to consider. She
+must and shall go with me.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+We need have no contention on the subject, sir. I may be mistaken. What
+I think necessary may not be so. The Prince is the best judge--he,
+therefore, will decide. I go to bring him to you.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                                Odoardo.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+How? Never! Prescribe to me whether she shall go! Withhold her from me!
+Who will do this?--Who dares attempt it?--He, who dares here do
+anything he pleases?----'Tis well, 'tis well. Then shall he see how
+much I, too, dare, and whether I have not already dared. Short-sighted
+voluptuary! I defy thee.--He who regards no law is as independent
+as he who is subject to no law. Knowest thou not this? Come on, come
+on----But what am I saying? My temper once more overpowers my reason.
+What do I want? I should first know why I rave. What will not a
+courtier assert? Better had I allowed him to proceed. I should have
+heard his pretext for conveying my daughter to Guastalla, and I could
+have prepared a proper reply. But can I need a reply!--Should one fail
+me--should----I hear footsteps. I will be calm.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                    The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+My dear worthy Galotti.--Was such an accident necessary to bring you to
+your Prince? Nothing less would have sufficed--but I do not mean to
+reproach you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Your Highness, I have ever thought it unbecoming to press into the
+presence of my Prince. He will send for those whom he wants. Even now I
+ask your pardon----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Would that many, whom I know, possessed this modest pride!--But to the
+subject. You are, doubtless, anxious to see your daughter. She is again
+alarmed on account of her dear mother's sudden departure. And why
+should she have departed? I only waited till the terrors of the lovely
+Emilia were completely removed, and then I should have conveyed both
+the ladies in triumph to town. Your arrival has diminished by half the
+pleasure of this triumph; but I will not entirely resign it.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Your Highness honours me too much. Allow me to spare my unfortunate
+child the various mortifications, which friendship and enmity,
+compassion and malicious pleasure, prepare for her in town.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Of the sweet comforts, which the friendly and compassionate bestow, it
+would be cruelty to deprive her; but against all the mortifications of
+enmity and malice, believe me, I will guard her, dear Galotti.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Prince, paternal love is jealous of its duties. I think I know what
+alone suits my daughter in her present situation. Retirement from the
+world--a cloister as soon as possible.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+A cloister?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Till then, let her weep under the protection of her father.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Shall so much beauty wither in a cloister?----Should one disappointed
+hope embitter one against the world?--But as you please. No one has a
+right to dictate to a parent. Take your daughter wherever you think
+proper, Galotti.
+
+                       ODOARDO (_to_ Marinelli).
+
+Do you hear, my lord?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Nay, if you call upon me to speak----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+By no means, by no means.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What has happened between you two?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Nothing, your Highness, nothing. We were only settling which of us had
+been deceived in your Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+How so?--Speak, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am sorry to interfere with the condescension of my Prince, but
+friendship commands that I should make an appeal to him as judge.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What friendship?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Your Highness knows how sincerely I was attached to Count Appiani--how
+our souls were interwoven----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Does his Highness know that? Then you are indeed the only one who does
+know it.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Appointed his avenger by himself----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+You?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Ask your wife. The name of Marinelli was the last word of the dying
+Count, and was uttered in such a tone----Oh may that dreadful tone
+sound in my ears for ever, if I do not strain every nerve to discover
+and to punish his murderers!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Rely upon my utmost aid.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And upon my most fervent wishes. All this is well. But what further?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That I, too, want to know, Marinelli.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It is suspected that the Count was not attacked by robbers----
+
+                       ODOARDO (_with a sneer_).
+
+Indeed!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+But that a rival hired assassins to despatch him.
+
+                          ODOARDO (_bitterly_).
+
+Indeed! A rival?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Exactly.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Well then--May damnation overtake the vile assassin!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+A rival--a favoured rival too.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+How? Favoured? What say you?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Nothing but what fame reports.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Favoured? favoured by my daughter?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+Certainly not. That cannot be. Were you to say it I would contradict
+it. But, on this account, your Highness, though no prejudice, however
+well-grounded, can be of any weight in the scale of justice, it will,
+nevertheless, be absolutely necessary that the unfortunate lady should
+be examined.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+True--undoubtedly.
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+And where can this be done but in Guastalla?
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+There you are right, Marinelli, there you are right.--This alters the
+affair, dear Galotti. Is it not so. You yourself must see----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Yes! I see----what I see. O God! O God!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What now? What is the matter?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I am only angry with myself for not having foreseen what I now
+perceive. Well, then--she shall return to Guastalla. I will take her to
+her mother, and till she has been acquitted, after the most rigid
+examination, I myself will not leave Guastalla. For who knows--(_with a
+bitter smile of irony_)--who knows whether the court of justice may not
+think it necessary to examine me?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It is very possible. In such cases justice rather does too much than
+too little. I therefore even fear----
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+What? What do you fear?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+That the mother and daughter will not, at present, be suffered to
+confer together.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Not confer together?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+It will be necessary to keep mother and daughter apart.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+To keep mother and daughter apart?
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+The mother, the daughter, and the father. The forms of the court
+absolutely enjoin this caution; and I assure your Highness that it
+pains me that I must enforce the necessity of at least placing Emilia
+in strict security.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+In strict security!--Oh, Prince, Prince!--Butyes--right!--of course, of
+course! In strict security! Is it not so, Prince? Oh! justice! oh
+justice is a fine thing! Excellent! (_Hastily puts his hand into the
+pocket in which he had concealed the dagger_.)
+
+                     PRINCE (_in a soothing tone_).
+
+Compose yourself, dear Galotti.
+
+      ODOARDO (_aside, drawing his hand, without the dagger, from
+                             his pocket_).
+
+There spoke his guardian angel.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+You are mistaken. You do not understand him. You think, perhaps, by
+security is meant a prison and a dungeon.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Let me think so, and I shall be at ease.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Not a word of imprisonment, Marinelli. The rigour of the law may easily
+be combined with the respect due to unblemished virtue. If Emilia must
+be placed in proper custody, I know the most proper situation for
+her--my chancellor's house. No opposition, Marinelli. Thither I will
+myself convey her, and place her under the protection of one of the
+worthiest of ladies, who shall be answerable for her safety. You go too
+far, Marinelli, you go too far, if you require more. Of course,
+Galotti, you know my chancellor Grimaldi and his wife?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Undoubtedly I do. I also know the amiable daughters of this noble pair.
+Who does not know them? (_To_ Marinelli).--No, my lord--do not agree to
+this. If my daughter must be confined, she ought to be confined in the
+deepest dungeon. Insist upon it, I beseech you. Fool that I was to make
+any request. Yes, the good Sybil was right. "They, who under certain
+circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose."
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+I do not understand you. Dear Galotti, what can I do more? Be
+satisfied, I beseech you. She shall be conveyed to the chancellor's
+house. I myself will convey her thither; and if she be not there
+treated with the utmost respect, my word is of no value. But fear
+nothing; it is settled. You, Galotti, may do as you think proper. You
+may follow us to Guastalla, or return to Sabionetta, as you please. It
+would be ridiculous to dictate any conduct to you. And now, farewell
+for the present, dear Galotti.--Come, Marinelli. It grows late.
+
+         ODOARDO (_who has been standing in deep meditation_).
+
+--How! May I not even see my daughter, then? May I not even see her
+here? I submit to everything--I approve of everything. A chancellor's
+house is, of course, a sanctuary of virtue. Take my daughter thither, I
+beseech your Highness--nowhere but thither. Yet I would willingly have
+some previous conversation with her. She is still ignorant of the
+Count's death, and will be unable to understand why she is separated
+from her parents. That I may apprise her gently of the one, and console
+her for this parting----I must see her, Prince, I must see her.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Come, then, with us.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Surely the daughter can come to her father. Let us have a short
+conversation here, without witnesses. Send her hither, I beg your
+Highness.
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+That, too, shall be done. Oh, Galotti, if you would be my friend, my
+guide, my father!
+
+                                (_Exeunt_ Prince _and_ Marinelli).
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                                Odoardo.
+
+ODOARDO (_after a pause, during which his eyes follow the_
+                                Prince).
+
+Why not? Most willingly. Ha! ha! ha! (_Looks wildly around_.) Who
+laughed? By Heaven I believe it was myself. 'Tis well. I will
+be merry. The game is near an end. Thus must it be, or thus.
+But--(_pauses_)--how if she were in league with him? How if this were
+the usual deception? How if she were not worthy of what I am about to
+do for her? (_Pauses again_.) And what am I about to do for her? Have I
+a heart to name it even to myself? A thought comes to me--a thought
+which can be but a thought. Horrible!--I will go. I will not wait until
+she comes. (_Raises his eyes towards Heaven_.) If she be innocent, let
+Him who plunged her into this abyss, extricate her from it. He needs
+not my hand. I will away. (_As he is going he espies_ Emilia.) Ha! 'Tis
+too late. My hand is required--He requires it.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Emilia, Odoardo.
+
+                            _Enter_ Emilia.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+How! Ton here, my father? And you alone--without the Count--without my
+mother? So uneasy, too, my father?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And you so much at ease, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Why should I not be so, my father? Either all is lost, or nothing. To
+be able to be at ease, and to be obliged to be at ease, do they not
+come to the same thing!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+But what do you suppose to be the case?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That all is lost--therefore that we must be at ease, my father.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And you are at ease, because necessity requires it? Who are you? A
+girl; my daughter? Then should the man and the father be ashamed
+of you. But let me hear. What mean you when you say that all is
+lost?--that Count Appiani is dead?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And why is he dead? Why? Ha! It is, then, true, my father--the horrible
+tale is true which I read in my mother's tearful and wild looks. Where
+is my mother? Where has she gone?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+She is gone before us--if we could but follow her.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Oh, the sooner the better. For if the Count be dead--if he was doomed
+to die on that account--Ha! Why do we stay here? Let us fly, my father.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Fly! Where is the necessity? You are in the hands of your ravisher, and
+will there remain.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I remain in his hands?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And alone--without your mother--without me.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I remain alone in his hands? Never, my father--or you are not my
+father. I remain alone in his hands? 'Tis well. Leave me, leave me. I
+will see who can detain me--who can compel me. What human being can
+compel another?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+I thought, my child, you were tranquil.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+I am so. But what do you call tranquillity?--To lay my hands in my lap,
+and patiently bear what cannot be borne, and suffer what should be
+suffered.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Ha! If such be thy thoughts, come to my arms, my daughter. I have ever
+said, that Nature, when forming woman, wished to form her master-piece.
+She erred in that the clay she chose was too plastic. In every other
+respect man is inferior to woman. Ha! If this be thy composure, I
+recognize my daughter again. Come to my arms. Now, mark me. Under the
+pretence of legal examination, the Prince--tears thee (the hellish
+fool's play!) tears thee from our arms, and places thee under the
+protection of Grimaldi.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Tears me from your arms? Takes me--would tear me--take
+me--would--would----As if we ourselves had no will, father.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+So incensed was I, that I was on the point of drawing forth this dagger
+(_produces it_), and plunging it into the hearts of both the villains.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Heaven forbid it! my father. This life is all the wicked can enjoy.
+Give me, give me the dagger.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Child, it is no bodkin.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+If it were, it would serve as a dagger. 'Twere the same.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+What! Is it come to that? Not yet, not yet. Reflect. You have but one
+life to lose, Emilia.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And but one innocence.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Which is proof against all force.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+But not against all seduction. Force! Force! What is that? Who may not
+defy force? What you call force is nothing. Seduction is the only real
+force. I have blood, my father, as youthful and as warm as that of
+others. I have senses too. I cannot pledge myself: I guarantee nothing.
+I know the house of Grimaldi. It is a house of revelry--a single hour
+spent in that society, under the protection of my mother, created such
+a tumult in my soul, that all the rigid exercises of religion could
+scarcely quell it in whole weeks. Religion! And what religion? To avoid
+no worse snares thousands have leapt into the waves, and now are
+saints. Give me the dagger, then, my father, give it to me.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And didst thou but know who armed me with this dagger----
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+That matters not. An unknown friend is not the less a friend. Give me
+the dagger, father, I beseech you.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+And if I were to give it you?--what then? There! (_He presents it_)
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+And there! (_She seizes it with ardour, and is about to stab herself
+when_ Odoardo _wrests it from her_.)
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+See how rash----No; it is not for thy hand.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Tis true; then with this bodkin will I! (_she searches for one in her
+hair, and feels the rose in her head_). Art thou still there? Down,
+down! thou shouldst not deck the head of one, such as my father wishes
+me to be!
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Oh! my daughter!
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Oh, my father! if I understand you. But no, you will not do it, or why
+so long delayed. (_In a bitter tone, while she plucks the leaves of the
+rose_.) In former days there was a father, who, to save his daughter
+from disgrace plunged the first deadly weapon which he saw, into his
+daughter's heart--and thereby gave her life, a second time. But those
+were deeds of ancient times. Such fathers exist not now.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+They do, they do, my daughter (_stabs her_). God of heaven! What have I
+done? (_supports her in his arms as she sinks_.)
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Oh, let me
+kiss this kind parental hand.
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo, Emilia.
+
+                          PRINCE (_entering_).
+
+What means this? Is Emilia not well?
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Very well, very well.
+
+                      PRINCE (_approaching her_.)
+
+What do I see? Oh, horror!
+
+                               MARINELLI.
+
+I am lost!
+
+                                PRINCE.
+
+Cruel father, what hast thou done.
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Said you not
+so, my daughter?
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Not you, my father. I, I myself----
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Not thou my daughter--not thou! Quit not this world with falsehood on
+thy lips. Not thou, my daughter--thy father, thy unfortunate father.
+
+                                EMILIA.
+
+Ah!--My father----(_Dies in his arms. He lays her gently on the
+floor_.)
+
+                                ODOARDO.
+
+Ascend on high! There, Prince! Does she still charm you? Does she still
+rouse your appetites?--here, weltering in her blood--which cries for
+vengeance against you. (_After a pause_.) Doubtless you wait to see the
+end of this. You expect, perhaps, that I shall turn the steel against
+myself, and finish the deed like some wretched tragedy. You are
+mistaken. There! (_Throws the dagger at his feet_.) There lies the
+blood-stained witness of my crime. I go to deliver myself into the
+hands of justice. I go to meet you as my judge: then I shall meet you
+in another world, before the Judge of all.               (_Exit_.)
+
+    PRINCE (_after a pause, during which he surveys the body with a
+           look of horror and despair, turns to_ Marinelli).
+
+Here! Raise her. How! Dost thou hesitate? Wretch! Villain! (_Tears the
+dagger from his grasp_.) No. Thy blood shall not be mixed with such as
+this. Go: hide thyself for ever. Begone, I say. Oh God! Oh God! Is it
+not enough for the misery of many that monarchs are men? Must devils in
+disguise become their friends?
+
+
+
+
+
+                            NATHAN THE WISE.
+
+                     A DRAMATIC POEM IN FIVE ACTS.
+
+                  (_Translated by R. Dillon Boylan_.)
+
+The well-known Goetze Controversy is to be thanked for the appearance
+of this, the longest, and in many respects the most important of
+Lessing's dramatic works. It was written in 1778-9, in reply to some of
+the theological censures of the Hamburg pastor. In 1783, it was first
+acted at Berlin, but it met with little success there or elsewhere,
+until in 1801, when it was introduced on the Weimar stage, by Schiller
+and Goethe.
+
+
+
+
+                            DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+      Sultan Saladin.
+      Sittah, _his Sister_.
+      Nathan, _a rich Jew of Jerusalem_.
+      Recha, _his adopted Daughter_.
+      Daja, _a Christian woman living in the Jew's house as_ Recha's
+        _companion_.
+      _A young_ Knight Templar.
+      A Dervise.
+      _The_ Patriarch of Jerusalem.
+      A Friar.
+      _An_ Emir _and several of_ Saladin's Mamelukes.
+
+                      _The scene is in Jerusalem_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                            NATHAN THE WISE.
+
+                "Introite, nam et heic Dii sunt."
+
+                                                   _Apud_ Gellium.
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT I.
+
+
+                 Scene I.--_A Hall in Nathan's House_.
+
+        Nathan, _returning from a journey_; Daja, _meeting him_.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis he! 'Tis Nathan! endless thanks to Heaven
+   That you at last are happily returned.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, Daja! thanks to Heaven! But why at _last_?
+   Was it my purpose--was it in my power
+   To come back sooner? Babylon from here,
+   As I was forced to take my devious way,
+   Is a long journey of two hundred leagues;
+   And gathering in one's debts is not--at best,
+   A task that expedites a traveller's steps.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   O Nathan! what a dire calamity
+   Had, in your absence, nigh befallen us!
+   Your house----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Took fire. I have already heard.
+   God grant I may have learnt the whole that chanced!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Chance saved it, or it had been burnt to ashes.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then, Daja! we had built another house,
+   And a far better----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   True--ay, true! but Recha
+   Was on the point of perishing amid
+   The flames----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       Of perishing? Who saidst thou? Recha?
+   I had not heard of that. I should not then
+   Have needed any house. What! on the point
+   Of perishing? Nay, nay; perchance she's dead--
+   Is burnt alive. Speak, speak the dreadful truth.
+   Kill me, but do not agonize me thus.
+   Tell me at once she's dead.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  And if she were
+   Could you expect to hear it from these lips?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why then alarm me? Recha! O my Recha!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Your Recha? Yours?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                And can it ever be
+   That I shall cease to call this child my own?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Is all you have yours by an equal title?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Nought by a better. What I else enjoy
+   Are Fortune's gifts, or Nature's. This alone--
+   This treasure do I owe to virtue.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                      Nathan!
+   How dearly must I pay for all your goodness!
+   If goodness practised for an end like yours
+   Deserves the name.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      An end like mine! What mean you?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   My conscience----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                Daja, let me tell you first----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I say my conscience----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Oh, the gorgeous robe
+   That I have bought for you in Babylon!
+   Costly it is and rare. For Recha's self
+   I have not bought a richer.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                 What of that?
+   My conscience can be silent now no more.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I long to witness your delight, to see
+   The bracelets, earrings, and the golden chain
+   Which I selected at Damascus for you.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis always so, you surfeit me with gifts.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Accept them freely, as they are bestowed,
+   And silence!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                  Silence! Yes. But who can doubt
+   That you are generosity itself?
+   And yet----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                I'm but a Jew! Daja, confess
+   That I have guessed your thought.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        You know my thoughts
+   Far better.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                   Well, be silent!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    I am dumb.
+   And henceforth all the evil that may spring
+   From this, which I cannot avert, nor change,
+   Fall on your head.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Let it all fall on me!
+   But where is Recha? What detains her thus?
+   Are you deceiving me? Can she have heard
+   That I am here?
+
+                                  DAJA.
+
+                     Yourself must answer that.
+   Terror still palpitates through every nerve,
+   And fancy mingles fire with all her thoughts.
+   In sleep her soul's awake; but when awake,
+   Is wrapt in slumber. Less than mortal now,
+   And now far more than angel, she appears.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Poor child! how frail a thing is human nature!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   She lay this morning with her eyelids closed--
+   One would have thought her dead--when suddenly
+   She started from her couch, and cried, "Hark, hark!
+   Here come my father's camels, and I hear
+   His own sweet voice again!" With that, her eyes
+   Once more she opened, and her arms' support
+   Withdrawn, her head droop'd softly on her pillow.
+   Quickly I hastened forth, and now behold,
+   I find you here. But marvel not at this.
+   Has not her every thought been long engrossed
+   With dreams of you and him?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Of him! What him?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Of him who from the flames preserved her life.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And who was he? Where is he? Name the man
+   Who saved my Recha?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                            A young Templar he!
+   Brought hither captive lately, and restored
+   To freedom by the Sultan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               How? A Templar?
+   A captive, too, and pardoned by the Sultan?
+   Could not my Recha's life have been preserved
+   By some less wondrous miracle? O God!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But for this stranger's help, who risked afresh
+   The life so unexpectedly restored,
+   Recha had surely perished.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  Where is he?
+   Where is this noble youth? Where is he, Daja?
+   Oh, lead me to his feet! But you already
+   Have surely lavished on him all the wealth
+   That I had left behind; have given him all--
+   And promised more, much more.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                      How could we, Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why not?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   He came we know not whence, he went
+   We know not whither. To the house a stranger,
+   And guided by his ear alone, he rushed
+   With fearless daring through the smoke and flame,
+   His mantle spread before him, till he reached
+   The spot whence issued piercing screams for help.
+   We thought him lost; when, bursting through the fire,
+   He stood before us, bearing in his arms
+   Her almost lifeless form. Unmoved and cold,
+   Deaf to our cries of thanks, he left his prize,
+   Passed through the wondering crowd, and disappeared.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But not for ever, Daja, I would hope.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   For some days after, 'neath yon spreading palms,
+   Which wave above our blest Redeemer's grave,
+   We saw him pacing thoughtful to and fro.
+   With transport I approached to speak my thanks.
+   I pleaded, begged, entreated that for once,
+   Once only, he would see the grateful maid,
+   Who longed to shed at her preserver's feet
+   Her tears of gratitude.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                Well?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          All in vain!
+
+   Deaf to my warmest prayers, he poured on me
+   Such bitter taunts----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  That you withdrew dismayed.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Far otherwise. I sought to meet him daily,
+   And daily heard his harsh insulting words.
+   Much have I borne, and would have borne still more;
+   But lately he has ceased his lonely walk
+   Beneath the spreading palms that shade the grave
+   Of Him who rose from death; and no man knows
+   Where he may now be found. You seem surprised.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I was considering how such a scene
+   Must work upon a mind like Recha's. Scorned
+   By one whom she can never cease to prize;
+   Repelled by one who still attracts her to him.
+   Her head and heart at strife! And long, full long
+   The contest may endure, without the power
+   To say if anger or regret shall triumph.
+   Should neither prove the victor, Fancy then
+   May mingle in the fray, and turn her brain.
+   Then Passion will assume fair Reason's garb,
+   And Reason act like Passion. Fatal change!
+   Such, doubtless, if I know my Recha well,
+   Must be her fate; her mind is now unhinged.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But her illusions are so sweet and holy.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But yet she raves!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              The thought she clings to most,
+   Is that the Templar was no earthly form,
+   But her blest guardian angel, such as she
+   From childhood fancied hovering o'er her path;
+   Who from his veiling cloud, amid the fire
+   Rushed to her aid in her preserver's form.
+   You smile incredulous. Who knows the truth?
+   Permit her to indulge the fond deceit,
+   Which Christian, Jew, and Mussulman alike
+   Agree to own. The illusion is so sweet!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I love it too. But go, good Daja! go,
+   See what she does--if I can speak with her.
+   This guardian angel, wilful and untamed,
+   I'll then seek out--and if he still is pleased
+   To sojourn here a while with us--or still
+   Is pleased to play the knight so boorishly,
+   I'll doubtless find him out and bring him here.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   You are too daring, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Trust me, Daja!
+   If fond delusion yield to sweeter truth--
+   For human beings ever to their kind
+   Are dearer after all than angels are--
+   You will not censure me, when you perceive
+   Our lov'd enthusiast's mind again restored.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   You are so good, and so discerning, Nathan!
+   But see, behold! Yes, here she comes herself.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                       Recha, Nathan, _and_ Daja.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   And is it you! your very self, my father?
+   I thought you had but sent your voice before you,
+   Where are you lingering still? What mountains, streams,
+   Or deserts now divide us? Here we are
+   Once more together, face to face, and yet
+   You do not hasten to embrace your Recha!
+   Poor Recha! she was almost burnt alive!
+   Yet she escaped----But do not, do not shudder.
+   It were a dreadful death to die by fire!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   My child! my darling child!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           Your journey lay
+   Across the Tigris, Jordan, and Euphrates,
+   And many other rivers. 'Till that fire
+   I trembled for your safety, but since then
+   Methinks it were a blessed, happy thing
+   To die by water. But you are not drowned,
+   Nor am I burnt alive. We will rejoice,
+   And thank our God, who bore you on the wings
+   Of unseen angels o'er the treacherous streams,
+   And bade my angel bear me visibly
+   On his white pinion through the raging flames.
+
+                           NATHAN (_aside_).
+
+   On his white pinion! Ha! I see; she means
+   The broad white fluttering mantle of the Templar.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Yes, visibly he bore me through the flames,
+   O'ershadowed by his wings. Thus, face to face,
+   I have beheld an angel--my own angel.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Recha were worthy of so blest a sight.
+   And would not see in him a fairer form
+   Than he would see in her.
+
+                           RECHA (_smiling_).
+
+                           Whom would you flatter--
+   The angel, dearest father, or yourself?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And yet methinks, dear Recha, if a man--
+   Just such a man as Nature daily fashions--
+   Had rendered you this service, he had been
+   A very angel to you.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                 But he was
+   No angel of that stamp, but true and real.
+   And have I not full often heard you say
+   'Tis possible that angels may exist?
+   And how God still works miracles for those
+   Who love Him? And I love Him dearly, father.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And He loves you; and 'tis for such as you
+   That He from all eternity has wrought
+   Such ceaseless wonders daily.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       How I love
+   To hear you thus discourse!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   Well, though it sound
+   A thing but natural and common-place
+   That you should by a Templar have been saved,
+   Is it the less a miracle for that?
+   The greatest of all miracles seems this:
+   That real wonders, genuine miracles,
+   Can seem and grow so commonplace to us.
+   Without this universal miracle,
+   Those others would scarce strike a thinking man,
+   Awaking wonder but in children's minds,
+   Who love to stare at strange, unusual things,
+   And hunt for novelty.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                Why will you thus
+   With airy subtleties perplex her mind,
+   Already overheated?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Silence, Daja!
+   And was it then no miracle that Recha
+   Should be indebted for her life to one
+   Whom no small miracle preserved himself?
+   Who ever heard before, that Saladin
+   Pardoned a Templar? that a Templar asked it--
+   Hoped it--or for his ransom offered more
+   Than his own sword--belt, or at most his dagger?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   That argues for me, father! All this proves
+   That my preserver was no Templar knight,
+   But only seemed so. If no captive Templar
+   Has e'er come hither but to meet his death,
+   And through Jerus'lem cannot wander free,
+   How could I find one, in the night, to save me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Ingenious, truly! Daja, you must speak.
+   Doubtless, you know still more about this knight;
+   For 'twas from you I learnt he was a prisoner.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis but report indeed, but it is said
+   That Saladin gave freedom to the knight,
+   Moved by the likeness which his features bore
+   To a lost brother whom he dearly loved,
+   Though since his disappearance twenty years
+   Have now elapsed. He fell I know not where,
+   And e'en his very name's a mystery.
+   But the whole tale sounds so incredible,
+   It may be mere invention, pure romance.
+
+                                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;
+   God 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.
+
+   Without advice, or hope, or sympathy,
+   May lie a prey to agony and death.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Where, where?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  And yet for one he never knew--
+   Enough for him it was a human being--
+   He plunged amid the flames and----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          Spare her, Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He sought no more to know the being whom
+   He rescued thus--he shunned her very thanks----
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh, spare her!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          Did not wish to see her more,
+   Unless to save her for the second time--
+   Enough for him that she was human!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                      Hold!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He may have nothing to console him dying,
+   Save the remembrance of his deed.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          You kill her!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And you kill him, or might have done at least.
+   'Tis med'cine that I give, not poison, Recha!
+   But be of better cheer: he lives--perhaps
+   He is not ill.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                  Indeed? not dead--not ill?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Assuredly not dead--for God rewards
+   Good deeds done here below--rewards them hero.
+   Then go, but ne'er forget how easier far
+   Devout enthusiasm is, than good deeds.
+   How soon our indolence contents itself
+   With pious raptures, ignorant, perhaps,
+   Of their ulterior end, that we may be
+   Exempted from the toil of doing good.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   O father! leave your child no more alone.--
+   But may he not have only gone a journey?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Perhaps. But who is yonder Mussulman,
+   Numbering with curious eye my laden camels?
+   Say, do you know him?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                               Surely your own Dervise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+            Your Dervise--your old chess companion.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Al-Hafi do you mean? What!--that Al-Hafi?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No other: now the Sultan's treasurer.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What, old Al-Hafi? Do you dream again?
+   And yet 'tis he himself--he's coming hither.
+   Quick, in with you! What am I now to hear?
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                       Nathan _and the_ Dervise.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Ay, lift your eyes and wonder.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                          Is it you?
+   A Dervise so magnificent!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                  Why not?
+   Can you make nothing of a Dervise, Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Ay, surely, but I've still been wont to think
+   A Dervise--I would say a thorough Dervise--
+   Will ne'er let anything be made of him.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Well, by the Prophet! though it may be true
+   That I'm no thorough Dervise, yet one must----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   _Must_, Hafi! You a Dervise! No man _must_----
+   And least of all a Dervise.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                     Nay, he must,
+   When he is much implored and deems it right.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well spoken, Hafi! Let us now embrace.
+   You're still, I trust, my friend.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                          Why not ask first
+   What has been made of me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     I take my chance,
+   In spite of all that has been made of you.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   May I not be a servant of the state
+   Whose friendship is no longer good for you?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you but still possess your Dervise heart
+   I'll run the risk of that. The stately robe
+   Is but your cloak.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                             And yet it claims some honour.
+   But, tell me truly, at a court of yours
+   What had been Hafi's rank?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    A Dervise only--
+   Or, if aught else--perhaps my cook.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                             Why yes!
+   That I might thus unlearn my native trade,
+   Your cook! why not your butler? But the Sultan--
+   He knows me better--I'm his treasurer.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What, you?--his treasurer?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                     Mistake me not,
+   I only bear his lesser purse; his father
+   Still manages the greater, and I am
+   The treasurer of his house.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    His house is large!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Far larger than you think--all needy men
+   Are of his house.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Yet Saladin is such
+   A foe to beggars!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                            That he'd root them out,
+   Though he turned beggar in the enterprise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Bravo! I meant as much.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                  He's one already.
+   His treasury at sunset every day
+   Is worse than empty; and although the tide
+   Flowed high at morn, 'tis ebb before the noon.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Because it flows through channels such as we
+   Can neither stop nor fill.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                  You hit the truth.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I know it well.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                          Ah! 'tis an evil case
+   When kings are vultures amid carcases,
+   But ten times worse when they're the carcases
+   Amid the vultures.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Dervise, 'tis not so.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Is that your thought? But, come, what will you give
+   If I resign my office in your favour?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What are your profits?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                               Mine? not much; but you
+   Would soon grow rich; for when, as oft occurs,
+   The Sultan's treasury is at an ebb,
+   You might unlock your sluices, pour in gold,
+   And take in form of interest what you please.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And interest on the interest of the interest.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Of course.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       Until my capital becomes
+   All interest.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                     Well! is not the offer tempting?
+   Farewell for ever to our friendship then,
+   For I had counted on you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  How so, Hafi?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   I thought you would have helped me to discharge
+   My task with credit; that I should have found
+   Your treasury ready. Ha! you shake your head.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Let us explain. We must distinguish here.
+   To you, Dervise Al-Hafi, all I have
+   Is welcome; but to you, the Defterdar
+   Of Saladin--to that Al-Hafi, who----
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   I guessed as much. You ever are as good
+   As you are wise and prudent. Only wait.
+   The two Al-Hafis you distinguish thus
+   Will soon be parted. See, this robe of honour,
+   Which Saladin bestowed, before 'tis worn
+   To rags, and suited to a Dervise back,
+   Will in Jerusalem hang from a nail;
+   Whilst I, upon the Ganges' scorching strand,
+   Barefoot amid my teachers will be found.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   That's like yourself!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                             Or playing chess with them.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Your greatest bliss!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                               What do you think seduced me?
+   Hopes of escaping future penury,
+   The pride of acting the rich man to beggars,
+   Would this have metamorphosed all at once
+   The richest beggar to a poor rich man?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+        But I yielded to a sillier whim.
+   For the first time I felt myself allured
+   By Saladin's kind-hearted, flattering words.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And what were they?
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                                 He said a beggar's wants
+   Are known but to the poor alone; that they
+   Alone can tell how want should be relieved.
+   "Thy predecessor was too cold," he said,
+   "Too harsh, and when he gave, 'twas with a frown.
+   He searched each case too strictly, not content
+   To find out want, he would explore the cause,
+   And thus he measured out his niggard alms.
+   Not so wilt thou bestow, and Saladin
+   Will not appear so harshly kind in thee.
+   Thou art not like that choked-up conduit-pipe,
+   Whence in unequal streams the water flows,
+   Which it receives in pure and copious stores.
+   Al-Hafi thinks, Al-Hafi feels like me."
+   The fowler whistled, and at last the quail
+   Ran to his net. Cheated, and by a cheat?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Hush, Dervise, hush!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+                               What! is it not a cheat
+   To grind mankind by hundred thousands thus!
+   Oppress them, plunder, butcher, and torment,
+   And singly play the philanthropic part?
+   Not cheating, to pretend to imitate
+   That heavenly bounty, which in even course
+   Descends alike on desert and on plain,
+   On good and bad, in sunshine and in shower,
+   And not possess the never empty hand
+   Of the Most High! Not cheating----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                                Dervise, cease!
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   Nay, let me speak of cheating of my own,
+   How now? Were it not cheating to seek out
+   The bright side of impostures such as these,
+   That under colour of this brighter side
+   I might take part in them? What say you now?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Fly to your desert quickly. Amongst men
+   I fear you'll soon unlearn to be a man.
+
+                                DERVISE.
+
+   I fear so too. Farewell!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 What, so abrupt?
+   Stay, stay, Al-Hafi! Has the desert wings?
+   It will not fly away. Here, stay, Al-Hafi!
+   He's gone; he's gone. I would that I had asked
+   About that Templar; he must know the man.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                      Daja (_rushing in_), Nathan.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   O Nathan, Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Well! what now?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                                He's there.
+   He shows himself once more.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Who, Daja--who?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   He--he!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+            Where cannot he be found? But _he_
+   You mean, is, I suppose, the only _He_.
+   That should not be, were he an angel's self.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Beneath the palms he wanders up and down,
+   And gathers dates.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             And eats them, I suppose,
+   Just as a Templar would.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              You mock me, sir!
+   Her eager eye espied him long ago,
+   When scarcely seen amid the distant trees.
+   She watches him intently, and implores
+   That you will go to him without delay.
+   Then go, and from the window she will mark
+   Which way his paces tend. Go, go; make haste!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What! thus, as I alighted from my camel?
+   Would that be seemly? But do you accost him;
+   Tell him of my return. I do not doubt
+   You'll find the honest man forbore our house
+   Because the host was absent. He'll accept
+   A father's invitation. Say I ask him,
+   I heartily request him.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                             All in vain!
+   In short, he will not visit any Jew.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then use your best endeavours to detain him,
+   Or, with unerring eye, observe his steps,
+   And mark him well. Go, I shall not be long.
+
+                     (Nathan _enters the house_. Daja _retires_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+_A Place of Palms. The_ Templar, _walking to and fro; a_ Friar,
+_following him at some distance, as if desirous of addressing him_.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   It cannot be for pastime that this man
+   Follows me thus. See how he eyes my hands!
+   Good brother--or, perhaps I should say, father!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   No, brother; a lay brother, at your service.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well, brother, then, if I had anything--
+   But truly I have nothing----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    Thanks the same!
+   God will reward your purpose thousandfold.
+   The will and not the deed perfects the giver.
+   Nor was I sent to follow you for alms.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Sent?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+            From the convent.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   Where I even now
+   Was hoping to partake a pilgrim's fare.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   'Tis meal--time now, the tables all are full;
+   But if it please you, we will turn together.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   No matter, though I have not tasted meat
+   For many days; these dates, you see, are ripe.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Be sparing of that fruit, sir, for too much
+   Is hurtful, sours the blood, and makes one sad.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And what if sadness suits me? Though, methinks,
+   'Twas not to give this warning that you came.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Oh, no! my mission was to question you--
+   To feel your pulse a little.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   And you tell
+   This tale yourself?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Why not?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 An artful soul! (_aside_).
+   And has the convent many more like you?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I know not. Mere obedience is my duty.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And you obey without much questioning.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Could it be rightly termed obedience else?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The simple mind is ever in the right.--(_aside_).
+   But will you not inform me who it is
+   That wishes to know more of me? Not you,
+   I dare be sworn.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Would such a wish become
+   Or profit me?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Whom would it then become
+   Or profit to be thus inquisitive?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Perhaps the Patriarch--'twas he that sent.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The Patriarch? and does he know my badge
+   So ill?--The red cross on the snow-white robe.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Why? I know that.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  Well, brother, hear me out.
+   I am a Templar--and a prisoner now.
+   Made captive with some others at Tebnin,
+   Whose fortress we had almost ta'en by storm
+   Just as the truce expired. Our hopes had been
+   To threaten Sidon next. Of twenty knights
+   Made prisoners there together, I alone
+   Was pardoned by command of Saladin.
+   The Patriarch now knows what he requires,
+   And more than he requires.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                     And yet no more
+   Than he had learned already. He would ask
+   Why you, of all the captives doomed to die,
+   Alone were spared?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Can I myself tell that?
+   Already with bare neck I had knelt down
+   Upon my mantle, to await the stroke,
+   When Saladin with steadfast eye surveys me.
+   Nearer he draws--he makes a sign--they raise me--
+   I am unbound--I would express my thanks--
+   I mark the tear-drop glisten in his eye--
+   We both stand mute--he turns and leaves the spot--
+   I stay. And now, how all this hangs together,
+   The Patriarch must explain.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                     The Patriarch thinks
+   That Heaven preserved you for some mighty deed.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Some mighty deed? To rescue from the flames
+   A Jewish maid! To lead to Sinai's mount
+   Bands of inquiring pilgrims--and the like!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The time may come for more important tasks:
+   Perhaps the Patriarch has already planned
+   Some mighty business for you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Think you so?
+   Has he already given you a hint?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Yes--but my task is first to sift a little,
+   To see if you are one to undertake----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well--sift away? (We'll see how this man sifts).
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The better course will be to name at once
+   What is the Patriarch's desire.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                          It is----?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   To make you bearer of a letter.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Me?
+   I am no carrier. Is that the office
+   More meritorious than to save from death
+   A Jewish maid?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                    So, truly, it would seem.
+   The Patriarch says that this little note
+   Involves the general weal of Christendom,
+   And that to bear it to its destined hand,
+   Safely, will merit a peculiar crown
+   From Heaven--and of that crown, the Patriarch
+   Says none can worthier be than you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Than I!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   You have your liberty--can look around;
+   You understand how cities may be stormed,
+   And how defended, says the Patriarch;
+   You know the strength and weakness of the towers,
+   And of the inner rampart lately reared
+   By Saladin, and you could point out all
+   To the Lord's champions fully.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                      May I know
+   Exactly the contents of this same letter?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Of that I am not quite informed myself.
+   'Tis to King Philip; and our Patriarch--
+   I often wonder how that holy man,
+   Whose every thought would seem absorbed by Heaven,
+   Can stoop to earthly things, and how his mind
+   Can be so deeply skilled in human lore----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well, then, your Patriarch----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                          Exactly knows
+   From secret sources, how, and with what force,
+   And in what quarter, should the war break out,
+   The foe and Saladin will take the field.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Knows he so much?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Ay, truly! and he longs
+   To send the urgent tidings to King Philip,
+   That he may better calculate if now
+   The danger be so great, as to demand
+   At every hazard that he should renew
+   The truce so boldly broken by the Templars.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The noble Patriarch! He seeks in me
+   No common herald, but the meanest spy.
+   Therefore, good brother, tell your Patriarch,
+   That I am not--as far as you can sift--
+   The man to suit his ends. I hold myself
+   A captive still. I know a Templar's duty:
+   Ready to die, not live to play the spy.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I thought as much. Nor can I censure you
+   For your resolve. The best has still to come.
+   Our Patriarch has learnt the very fort,
+   Its name, its strength, its site on Lebanon,
+   Wherein those countless treasures are concealed,
+   Wherewith the Sultan's prudent father pays
+   His troops, and all the heavy costs of war.
+   He knows that Saladin, from time to time,
+   Visits this fortress, by some secret way,
+   With but a few attendants.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Well! what then?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   'Twould be an easy task, methinks, to seize
+   The Sultan thus defenceless--and to end him.
+   You shudder, knight! Two monks who fear the Lord,
+   Are ready now to undertake the task,
+   And wait a leader.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           And the Patriarch
+   Has pitched on me to do this noble deed?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   He thinks King Philip might from Ptolemais
+   Give aid in the design.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           Has pitched on me!
+   On me!--Say, brother, have you never heard
+   The boundless debt I owe to Saladin?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Truly I have.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        And yet----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                          The Patriarch
+   Says that is very well; but yet your order,
+   And vows to God----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Change nothing; they command
+   No villainy.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+               No. But the Patriarch
+   Says what seems villainy to human eyes,
+   May not appear so in the sight of God.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Brother, I owe my life to Saladin,
+   And his shall my hand take?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    Oh, no!--But yet
+   The Patriarch maintains that Saladin,
+   Who is the common foe of Christendom,
+   Can never have a claim to be your friend.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   My friend? forsooth! because I will not be
+   A thankless wretch to him!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    'Tis so!--But yet
+   The Patriarch thinks gratitude is not
+   Before the eyes of God or man, a debt,
+   Unless, for our own sakes, some benefit
+   Has been conferred; and, says the Patriarch,
+   It is affirmed the Sultan spared your life
+   Merely because your voice, your look, your air,
+   Awoke a recollection of his brother----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   He knows all this, and yet?----Ah, were it true!
+   And, Saladin, could Nature form in me
+   A single feature in thy brother's likeness,
+   With nothing in my soul to answer it?
+   Or what does correspond, shall I belie
+   To please a Patriarch? No, surely Nature
+   Could never lie so basely! Nor, kind God,
+   Couldst thou so contradict Thyself! Go, brother,
+   And do not rouse my anger.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                         I withdraw
+   More gladly than I came. And, pardon me:
+   A monk's first duty, sir, is to obey.
+
+
+                  Scene VI.--_The_ Templar _and_ Daja.
+
+      (_She has been watching him from afar and now approaches_.)
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Methinks the monk left him in no good mood,
+   But, spite of that, I must my errand risk.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   This hits exactly. As the proverb goes,
+   Women and monks are ever Satan's tools,
+   And I to-day am subject to them both.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Whom do I see? Thank God, our noble knight.
+   Where have you been so long? Not ill, I hope?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   No.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+      In good health?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             Yes.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   We have all been grieved
+   Lest something should have ailed you. Have you been
+   Upon a journey?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Fairly guessed.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                          Since when
+   Have you returned to us?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  Since yesterday.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Our Recha's father, too, is just returned,
+   And now may Recha hope at last.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                         For what?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   For what she has so often asked in vain.
+   Her father pressingly invites you too.
+   He lately has arrived from Babylon
+   With twenty camels, bearing precious stones,
+   And stuffs and fragrant spices, which he sought
+   In India, Persia, Syria, and China.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I am no merchant.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                        He is much esteemed
+   By all his nation--honoured as a prince--
+   And yet to hear how he is named by all
+   Nathan _the Wise_, and not _the Rich_, seems strange.
+   It often makes me wonder.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  But to them
+   It may be, _wise_ and rich--both mean the same.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   It seems to me he should be called _the Good_,
+   So rich a store of goodness dwells in him.
+   Since he has learned the weighty debt he owes
+   For service done to Recha there is nought
+   He would withhold from you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       Well?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                                Try him, sir!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What then? A moment passes soon away.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I had not dwelt with him so many years
+   Were he less kind. I know a Christian's worth,
+   And it was never o'er my cradle sung
+   That I to Palestine should wend my way,
+   Following a husband's steps, to educate
+   A Jewish maid. My husband was a page,
+   A noble page, in Emperor Frederick's court----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   By birth a Swiss, who earned the sorry fame
+   Of drowning in one river with his lord.
+   Woman! how often have you told this tale?
+   When will you cease to persecute me thus?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   To persecute you!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                    Ay, to persecute!
+   Now mark me. I will never see you more,
+   Hear you, nor be reminded of a deed
+   Performed at random. When I think of it,
+   I wonder somewhat, though I ne'er repent.
+   But hear me still. Should such a fatal chance
+   Again occur, you have yourself to blame
+   If I proceed more calmly, question first.
+   And let what's burning, burn.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    Great God forbid!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And now I have a favour to implore.
+   Know me henceforth no more. Grant me this grace,
+   And save me from her father; for with me
+   A Jew's a Jew; a Swabian blunt am I.
+   The image of the maid is now erased
+   Out of my soul--if it was ever there.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But yours remains with her.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                     Well, and what then?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Who knows? Men are not always what they seem.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   They're seldom better.                         (_Going_.)
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              Stay a little while.
+   What need of haste?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              Woman! forbear to make
+   These palm--trees odious: I have loved their shade.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Then go, thou German bear! Yet I must follow him.
+                            (_She follow him at a distance_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT II.
+
+
+                    Scene I.--_The Sultan's Palace_.
+
+                Saladin and Sittah (_playing at chess_).
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Where are your thoughts? How ill you play, dear brother!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Not well in truth--and yet I thought----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                           Oh, yes!
+   You're playing well for me; take back that move.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Why?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+            Don't you see you leave your knight exposed?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ay, true!--then so.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                        And now I take your pawn.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   That's true again, dear Sittah! Well, then, check!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   That will not help you--I protect my king,
+   And all is safe again.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Well, out of this
+   Dilemma 'tis not easy to escape.
+   I cannot save the knight.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 I pass him by;
+   I will not take him.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        Well, I owe you nothing;
+   The place you gain is better than the piece.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Perhaps.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+              But reckon not without your host;
+   You did not see that move.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                Not I, indeed;
+   I did not think you weary of your queen.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   My queen!
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                Well, well! I see that I to-day
+   Shall win my thousand dinars and no more.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+  Why so?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                Why so? Because designedly
+   You lose the game! You vex me, Saladin!
+   I find no pleasure in a game like this.
+   And even when I lose, I come off well;
+   For, to console me for the games you win,
+   You force me to accept a double stake.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   In that case, then, it may be by design
+   That you have sometimes lost. Is that the truth?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   At least your generosity's to blame
+   That I improve so little in my play.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   But we forget the game; come, finish it.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well, 'tis my move; now, check to king and queen!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Indeed! I did not see the double check.
+   I lose my queen.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                     Let's see! Can it be helped?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   No, take the queen--I have no luck with her.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Only with her?
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                    Remove her from the board,
+   I shall not miss her. Now I am right again.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   I know from lessons which yourself have taught
+   How courteously we should behave to queens.
+                           (_Offering to restore the piece_.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Take her or not, I shall not move her more.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Why need I take her? Check, and check!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                                Go on.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Check, check, and check again!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                         'Tis checkmate now.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Hold!--no, not yet. You may advance the knight,
+   And ward the danger. But 'twill be the same.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.
+   Let him be called, Sittah! You were not wrong.
+   My thoughts were wandering--were not in the game,
+   But who gives us so oft these shapeless bits
+   Of wood? which speak of naught--suggest no thought.
+   Was it with Iman that I've played--Well, well,
+   Ill-luck is ever wont to seek excuse.
+   Not the unmeaning squares or shapeless men
+   Have made me heedless; your dexterity,
+   Your calm, sharp eye, dear Sittah!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                           What of that?
+   Is that to blunt the sting of your defeat?
+   Enough--your thoughts were wandering more than mine.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Than yours? What subject could engage your thoughts?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Far different cares than those which trouble you.
+   But, Saladin, say, when shall we again
+   Resume this pleasant pastime?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Dearest Sittah,
+   This interruption will but whet our zeal.
+   Your thoughts are on the war: well, let it come--
+   'Twas not my arm that first unsheathed the sword;
+   I would have willingly prolonged the truce,
+   And willingly have knit a tender bond,
+   For Sittah's sake, with Richard's noble brother.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   How pleased you are, can you but praise your Richard.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   If Richard's sister had but been bestowed
+   Upon our brother Melek, what a house
+   Had then been ours! the best, the happiest
+   The earth could boast. You know I am not slow
+   To praise myself: I'm worthy of my friends.
+   What men these unions would have given us!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Did I not smile at once at your fine dreams?
+   You do not, will not, know the Christian race.
+   It is their pride not to be men, but Christians.
+   The virtue which their founder felt and taught,
+   The charity He mingled with their creed,
+   Is valued, not because it is humane,
+   And good, and lovely, but for this alone,
+   That it was Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.
+   'Tis well for them He was so good a man,
+   Well that they take His goodness all on trust,
+   And in His virtues put their faith. His virtues!
+   'Tis not His virtues, but His name alone
+   They wish to thrust upon us--His mere name,
+   Which they desire should overspread the world,
+   Should swallow up the name of all good men,
+   And put the rest to shame. 'Tis for His name
+   Alone they care.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                    Else, Sittah, as you say,
+   They would not have required that you and Melek
+   Should be called Christians, ere they suffered you
+   To feel for Christians the pure flame of love.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   As if from Christians, and from them alone,
+   That love can be expected, which the hand
+   Of our Creator gives to man and wife.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Christians believe such vain absurdities,
+   That this may be among them. And yet, Sittah,
+   The Templars, not the Christians, are in this
+   To blame. 'Tis they alone who thwart my plans;
+   'Tis they who still hold Acca, pledged to us
+   By treaty as the dower of Richard's sister.
+   And, to maintain their order's interests,
+   They use this cant--the nonsense of the monk.
+   Scarce would they wait until the truce expired
+   To fall upon us. But, go on, good sirs!
+   Would that all else may thrive as well as this!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Why, what else troubles you? What other care
+   Have you to struggle with?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                That constant grief--
+   I've been to Lebanon, and seen our father.
+   He's full of care.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                     Alas!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              He must give way.
+   Straitened on every side, no aid, no help,
+   Nothing comes in.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                        What ails him, Saladin?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   The only thing that I am loth to name,
+   Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems,
+   And, when I have it not, so necessary.
+   Where is Al-Hafi? Have they gone for him?
+   Will no one go? Oh, fatal, cursed money!
+   Welcome, Al-Hafi! You are come at last.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+             _The_ Dervise Al-Hafi, Saladin, _and_ Sittah.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   The gold from Egypt, I suppose, is come.
+   Say, is it much?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     What! have you heard of it?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Not I. I thought I should receive it here.
+
+              SALADIN (_pacing thoughtfully to and fro_).
+
+   Sittah has won a thousand dinars, pay them.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Pay without getting. That is worse than nothing!
+   And still to Sittah--once again for chess!
+   But let us see the board; how stands the game?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   You grudge me my good fortune?
+
+                    AL-HAFI (_examining the board_).
+
+                         Grudge you? When--
+   You know too well----
+
+                    SITTAH (_making signs to him_).
+
+                        Oh, hush! Al-Hafi, hush!
+
+                 AL-HAFI (_still examining the board_).
+
+   Don't grudge it to yourself.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                         Al-Hafi, hush!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   And were the white men yours?
+                                         You gave the check?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   'Tis well he does not hear.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                    The move is his.
+
+                     SITTAH (_approaching nearer_).
+
+   Then promise me that I shall have the money.
+
+                AL-HAFI (_still intent upon the board_).
+
+   You shall receive it as you've always done.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   How! are you mad?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                          The game's not over yet.
+   You have not lost it, Saladin.
+
+                    SALADIN (_paying no attention_).
+
+                                      Oh, yes;
+   Pay down the money.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                              Pay! here stands the queen.
+
+                      SALADIN (_still heedless_).
+
+   She's of no use; she's lost.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                               Do say that I
+   May send and fetch the gold.
+
+                  AL-HAFI (_still studying the game_).
+
+                                   Oh, yes! of course.
+   But though the queen be lost, you are not mate.
+
+                  SALADIN (_dashing down the board_).
+
+   I say I am. I will be mate.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                  If so,
+   Small pains, small gains, say I. So got, so spent.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What is he muttering there?
+
+      SITTAH (_to_ Saladin, _making a sign meanwhile to_ Al-Hafi).
+
+                                   You know him well.
+   He likes entreaties--loves to be implored.
+   Who knows if he be not a little jealous?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well, not of thee--not of my sister, surely.
+   What do I hear? Al-Hafi, are you jealous?
+
+                                 AL-HAFI.
+
+   Perhaps I am. I wish I had her head,
+   Or that I were as good as she.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                  My brother,
+   He always pays me fairly, and to-day
+   He'll do the same. Let him alone. Now go!
+   Al-Hafi! go! I'll have the money----
+
+                                 AL-HAFI.
+
+                                      No, not I.
+   I'll act this farce no more. He must know soon.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Who? what?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                  Al-Hafi! say, is this your promise?
+   Is't thus you keep your word?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                    Could I foresee
+   That it would come to this?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Well, tell me all.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Al-Hafi! I implore you, be discreet.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   'Tis very strange; and what can Sittah have
+   So earnestly to sue for, from a stranger--
+   A Dervise--rather than from me, her brother?
+   Al-Hafi, I command you. Dervise, speak.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Let not a trifle touch my brother nearer
+   Than is becoming, for you know that I
+   Have often won as much from you at chess.
+   But as I stand in little need of gold,
+   I've left the money in Al-Hafi's chest,
+   Which is not over full; but never fear,
+   It is not my intention to bestow
+   My wealth on either of you.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                   Were this all!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Some more such trifles are perhaps unclaimed:
+   My own allowance, which you set apart
+   Has lain some months untouched.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                    Nor is this all.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Then tell the whole.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                          Whilst we've been waiting for
+   The gold from Egypt, she----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                    Nay, hear him not.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Not only has had nothing,----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Dearest sister I--
+   But also has been lending it to you?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Ay! at her sole expense maintained your state.
+
+                       SALADIN (_embracing her_).
+
+   So like my sister!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                      Who but you, my brother,
+   Could make me rich enough to have the power?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   And soon he'll make her once again as poor
+   As he is now.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                I poor! her brother poor!
+   When had I more--when had I less than now?
+   A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and my God!
+   What need I else? and these ne'er can I lack.
+   And yet, Al-Hafi, I could scold you now.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Nay, brother, do not scold. I would that I
+   Could thus also relieve our father's cares!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ah! now my joy has vanished all at once.
+   We can want nothing; but he's destitute.
+   And whilst he wants, we all are poor indeed.
+   What shall I do? From Egypt we can hope
+   For nothing--though God only knows the cause.
+   'Tis general peace around, and as for me,
+   I could live sparingly, reduce, retrench,
+   If none else suffered; but 'twould not avail.
+   A cloak, a horse, a sword I ne'er can want.
+   As to my God, He is not to be bought.
+   He asks but little, only asks my heart.
+   I had relied, Al-Hafi, on your chest,
+   Upon the surplus there.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                             A surplus there!
+   Say, should I not have been impaled or hanged,
+   If I had been detected hoarding up
+   A surplus? Deficits I might have ventured.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well, but what next? Could you have found out none
+   To borrow from, but Sittah?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 And would I
+   Have borne it, had another been preferred?
+   I claim that privilege. I am not yet
+   Quite beggared.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                   No, not quite. Dear Sittah, this
+   Alone was wanting. But, Al-Hafi, go,
+   Inquire about, take where and what you can;
+   Borrow on promise, contract, anyhow;
+   But, mark me, not from those I have enriched.
+   'Twould seem as if I wished to have it back.
+   Go to the covetous. They gladliest lend.
+   They know how well their money thrives with me.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   I know of none.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                      I recollect just now,
+   I heard, Al-Hafi, of your friend's return.
+
+                         AL-HAFI (_starting_).
+
+   Friend! friend of mine! and who can that be, pray?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Your boasted Jew.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                      A Jew! and praised by me!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   On whom his God--I think I recollect
+   The very words you used, as touching him--
+   On whom his God, of all the choicest goods
+   Of earth, in full abundance, has bestowed
+   The greatest and the least.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                What could I mean
+
+   When I said so?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                     The least of good things--wealth.
+   The greatest--wisdom!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                             How! and of a Jew
+   Did I say that?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                    Ay, that you did--of Nathan.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Oh, true! of Nathan--yes! He did not now
+   Occur to me. But he's returned at last,
+   Then do not doubt that he's well off. He's called
+   The Wise, the Rich, by all the Jewish folk.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Now more than ever is he named the Rich.
+   The town resounds with news of costly stuffs
+   And priceless treasures he has brought with him.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Is he the Rich once more? Then, do not fear,
+   He'll be the Wise again.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                           What think you? Will
+   You visit him, Al-Hafi?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                          What, to borrow?
+   You know him, surely! Think you he will lend?
+   His very wisdom lies in this--that he
+   Will lend to no one.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                          Formerly you gave
+   A picture very different of him.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   In case of need he'll lend you merchandise;
+   But money--money--never! He's a Jew,
+   Who has not many equals 'mongst his tribe.
+   He's wise, knows how to live, can play at chess;
+   Excels in evil, too, as well as good.
+   Rely not on him. To the poor, indeed,
+   He vies with Saladin himself in gifts;
+   And if not quite so much, he gives as freely,
+   To Jew, and Christian, and Mahometan--
+   To all alike.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                And such a man as this----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   How comes it, then, I never heard of him?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Can he refuse to lend to Saladin,
+   Who wants for others--never for himself.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Ay, there peeps out the Jew--the vulgar Jew:
+   Believe me, he is jealous, envious
+   Of generosity. It seems as though
+   To earn God's favour were his special mission.
+   And that he may possess wherewith to give,
+   He never lends. The law he serves, commands
+   That he show mercy, but not complaisance.
+   Thus him has mercy made the rudest churl
+   In all the world. 'Tis true I have not been
+   This long time past on friendly terms with him,
+   But do not think that I would do him wrong,
+   He's good in all things else, but not in that;
+   Therefore I'll go and knock at other doors.
+   I recollect this instant an old Moor,
+   Who's rich and covetous: I'll go to him. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Why in such haste, Al-Hafi?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Let him go.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                            Sittah, Saladin.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   He speeds away, as though he would escape.
+   Why so? Is he indeed himself deceived,
+   Or would he now mislead me?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Can I guess?
+   I scarcely know the man of whom you speak,
+   And, for the first time, hear to-day of him.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Can it be possible you know him not
+   Who, it is said, has visited the
+   Of Solomon and David; knows the spell
+   To ope their marble lids, and thence obtain
+   The boundless stores that claim no lesser source.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Were this man's wealth by miracle procured,
+   'Tis not at Solomon's or David's tomb
+   That it is found. Mere mortal fools lie there.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Or knaves!--But still his source of opulence
+   Is more productive, more exhaustless than
+   A cave of Mammon.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  For he trades, I'm told.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   His caravans through every desert toil,
+   His laden camels throng the public roads,
+   His ships in every harbour furl their sails.
+   Al-Hafi long ago has told me this,
+   Adding, with pride, how Nathan gives away,
+   What he esteems it noble to have earned
+   By patient industry, for others' wants;
+   How free from bias is his lofty soul,
+   His heart to every virtue how unlocked,
+   To every lovely feeling how allied!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And yet Al-Hafi spoke with coldness of him.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Not coldness, but unwillingness, as if
+   He deemed it dangerous to praise too much,
+   Yet knew not how to blame without a cause.
+   Or can it be, in truth, that e'en the best
+   Amongst a tribe can never quite escape
+   The foibles of their race, and that, in fact,
+   Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan?
+   But come what may, let him be Jew or not,
+   If he be rich, that is enough for me.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You would not, sister, take his--wealth by force?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   By force? What mean you? Fire and sword? Oh, no!
+   What force is necessary with the weak
+   But their own weakness? Come awhile with me,
+   Into my harem. I have bought a songstress
+   You have not heard--she came but yesterday.
+   Meanwhile I'll think upon a subtle plan
+   For this same Nathan. Follow, Saladin!
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+_The Place of Palms, near_ Nathan's _house, from which_ Recha _and_
+Nathan _are coming_; Daja, _meeting them_.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Dear father! you have been so slow, that you
+   Will scarcely meet him now.
+
+                                 NATHAN.
+
+                            Well, well, my child;
+   If not beneath the palms, be sure that we
+   Shall meet him somewhere else. Be satisfied.
+   Is not that Daja whom I see approaching?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   She certainly has lost him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               Wherefore so?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Her pace were quicker else.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               She has not seen us.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   There, now she spies us.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              And her speed redoubles.
+   Recha, be calm!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        What! would you have your child
+   Be cold and unconcerned about his fate
+   To whom her life is due?--a life to her
+   But dear because she owed it first to you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I would not wish you other than you are,
+   E'en if I knew that in your secret soul
+   Another and a different feeling throbs.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   What means my father?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Do you ask of me--
+   So tremblingly of me? What passes now
+   Within your soul is innocence and nature.
+   Nay, fear not, for it gives me no alarm.
+   But promise, if the heart shall ever speak
+   A plainer language, you will not conceal
+   One single of your wishes from my love.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh, the bare thought that I should ever wish
+   To hide them from my father, makes me shudder.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Recha, enough of this. Now, what says Daja?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   He's still beneath the palms, and presently
+   He'll reach yon wall. See! here he comes at last.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   He seems irresolute which way to turn,
+   To left or right!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                     His custom is to seek
+   The convent walls, so he will pass this way.
+   What will you wager? Yes, he comes to us.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Right! Did you speak to him? How did he look?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   As usual.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+               Do not let him see you here.
+   Stand farther back, or to the house retire.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Just one look more. Ah! the trees hide him now.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Come, come away! Recha, your father's right.
+   Should he observe us he'll retire at once.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Alas! the trees----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Now he emerges from them.
+   He can't but see you. Hence! I beg of you.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Come, Recha, come! I know a window whence
+   We may observe him better.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                             Come, then, come.
+                                    (_They both retire_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+           Nathan (_who is presently joined by the_ Templar).
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I almost shrink from meeting this strange fellow--
+   Recoil from his rough virtue! That one man
+   Should ever make another feel confused!
+   But see, he comes! he seems a noble youth;
+   Looks like a man. I like his daring eye,
+   His honest gait. Although the shell is bitter,
+   The kernel may not be so. I have seen
+   One like him somewhere. Pardon, noble Frank----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What would you?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Pardon me----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               What would you, Jew?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The privilege of speaking to you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Well!
+   How can I help it? Quick, then--what's your wish?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Patience! nor pass with such contempt and pride
+   One who must be your debtor evermore.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   How so? I almost guess. No; are you then----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   My name is Nathan, father to the maid
+   Your generous courage rescued from the flames.
+   I come to----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+               If you come to render thanks,
+   Spare them. I have already been compelled
+   To bear too many thanks for this small act.
+   Besides, you owe me nothing. Could I know
+   The maiden was your daughter? I was bound--
+   It is a Templar's duty--to assist
+   All who need succour; and my life just then
+   Was a mere burden. It was a relief
+   To risk it for another, even though
+   The task were to preserve a Jewess' life.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Great--great yet horrible--I understand
+   The turn. The modest greatness will assume
+   The hideous mask to ward off gratitude.
+   But though he may disdain our proffer'd thanks,
+   Is there no other tribute we can pay?
+   Sir Knight! if you were not a stranger here,
+   And not a pris'ner, I were not so bold.
+   But, come, what service can I render you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You!--nothing.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                     I am rich.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              The richer Jew
+   Was ne'er in my esteem the better Jew.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Is that a reason why you should not use
+   The better part of him--his wealth?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                            Well, well,
+   I'll not refuse it wholly, for the sake
+   Of my poor mantle; when it is well worn,
+   And spite of darning will not hold together,
+   I'll come and borrow cloth or gold of you,
+   To make a new one. Nay, Sir, do not start;
+   The danger is not pressing--'tis not yet
+   Quite worthless; it is sound, and strong, and good.
+   Save in one corner, where an ugly spot
+   Is singed, and that is from a burn it got
+   When I bore off your daughter from the fire.
+
+                 NATHAN (_taking hold of the mantle_).
+
+   'Tis strange, indeed, that such a spot as this
+   Should bear far better witness to the man
+   Than his own lips. This spot! Oh, I could kiss it.
+   Your pardon, Sir, in truth, I meant it not!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+          'Twas a tear that fell.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Well, 'tis no matter.
+   'Tis not the first. (This Jew doth puzzle me.)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Would you but send this mantle to my daughter!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Why?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+           That she, too, may press it to her lips;
+   For at her benefactor's feet to fall
+   She now may hope in vain.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               But, Jew, your name?
+   Tis Nathan, is it not? You choose your words
+   With skill--I am confused. I did not think
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Feign, Templar, and dissemble as you may,
+   I see the truth. I see your generous heart,
+   Too honest and too good to be polite.
+   A grateful girl, all feeling, and her maid
+   Swift to obey--a father far from home,
+   You valued her fair fame, and would not see her.
+   You scorned to tempt lest you should victor prove.
+   For this too I must tender you my thanks.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You know at least how Templars _ought_ to feel.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why Templars only? and why ought to feel?
+   Is it because your rules and vows enjoin
+   These duties to _your order_? Sir, I know
+   How good men all should feel, and know as well
+   That every country can produce good men.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You'll make distinctions?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Yes, in colour, form,
+   And dress, perhaps.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Ay, and in number too--
+   Here more--there less.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            The difference is not much.
+   Great men, like trees, have ever need of room;
+   Too many set together only serve
+   To crush each other's boughs. The middling sort,
+   Like us, are found in numbers, they abound;
+   Only let not one scar and bruise the other,
+   Let not the gnarl be angry with the stump,
+   Let not the upper branch alone pretend
+   Not to have started from the common earth.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Well said. And yet what nation was the first
+   To scatter discord 'mongst their fellow-men?
+   To claim the title of "the chosen people?"
+   How now if I were not to hate them, but
+   To scorn this upstart nation, for their pride?
+   That pride which it bequeathed to Mussulman
+   And Christian, as if God were theirs alone.
+   You start to hear a Christian and a Templar
+   Talk thus. But when and where has all this rage,
+   This pious rage, to win the better God,
+   And force this better God on all the world,
+   Shown itself more, or in a blacker form,
+   Than here, and now? Who here, who now retains
+   The blinding scales upon his eyes--and yet
+   Let him be blind who will!--forget my words,
+   And leave me (_is going_).
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                   Templar! you but little know
+   How closer henceforth I shall cling to you.
+   We must, we must be friends. Despise my people--
+   We did not choose a nation for ourselves.
+   Are we our nation's? What then is a nation?
+   Were Jews or Christians such, ere they were men?
+   Ah! would that I had found in you one man
+   To whom it were enough to be a man.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Thou hast so, Nathan! Yes, by Heaven, thou hast.
+   Thy hand. I blush to have mistaken thee.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Now I feel proud. 'Tis only common souls
+   In whom we seldom err.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           Uncommon ones
+   We do not oft forget. Nathan, we must,
+   We must be friends.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        We are so. And my Recha
+   Will now rejoice. How bright the prospect grows
+   That dawns upon me! If you did but know her.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I grow impatient, Nathan. But who now
+   Comes from your house? Methinks it is your Daja.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, and her look how full of care! God grant----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That nothing may have chanced to our Recha!
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                          Daja (_rushing in_).
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Nathan, dear Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           Well.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  Forgive me, Knight,
+   That I must interrupt you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               What has happened?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   The Sultan sends for you--commands you straight
+   To speak with him. Protect us, Heaven! the Sultan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The Sultan sends for me! He would inspect
+   The goods--the precious wares that I have brought
+   From Persia. Say there's nothing yet unpacked.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No, no; 'tis not to look at anything;
+   He wants to speak to you in person, Nathan,
+   And orders you to come at once.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    I go.
+
+   Daja, return.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                Knight, take it not amiss.
+   We were alarmed for what the Sultan might
+   Require of Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      That I soon shall know. (_Exit Daja_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                         Nathan, _the_ Templar.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Are you then not acquainted with him yet?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who, Saladin? Not yet. I've neither shunned
+   Nor sought to see him. And the public voice
+   Proclaims his fame so loud, that I could wish
+   Rather to take its language upon trust,
+   Than sift the truth. And yet if it be true
+   That he has spared your life----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   Yes, so it is.
+   The life I live, he gave.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Then he bestows
+   A double, treble life on me. And thus
+   He flings a bond around me, which secures
+   My duty to his service; and henceforth
+   I burn to know his wishes. Now, for all
+   I am prepared; and further, will confess
+   'Tis for your sake alone that I am thus.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Often I've sought to meet him, but as yet
+   Have found no means to render him my thanks.
+   The impress which his mind received of me
+   Was transient, and ere now has disappeared.
+   Who knows if he may still remember me?
+   And yet once more at least he must recall
+   Me to his thoughts--to fix my future lot!
+   'Tis not enough that by his gracious will
+   I still have of life; I've yet to learn
+   According to whose will I have to live.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Therefore 'twere well I did not tarry now.
+   Perchance some happy word may give excuse
+   To speak of you. Now, pardon me, farewell!
+   I must away. When shall we meet again?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Whenever 'tis permitted.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 When you will.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   To-day, then.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  And your name?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                           My name was--is--
+   Conrad of Stauffen.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Conrad of Stauffen! Stauffen!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What is there in my name to wonder at?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   There are more races of that name, no doubt.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Yes, many of the name were here--rot here,
+   My uncle even--I should say my father.
+   But wherefore is your eye so fixed on me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I know not; but I love to look on you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Therefore I take my leave. The searching eye
+   Will oft discover more than it desires.
+   I fear it, Nathan; so, farewell. Let time,
+   Not curious prying, make us better known. (_Exit_.)
+
+            NATHAN (_looking after him with astonishment_).
+
+   "The searching eye will oft discover more
+   Than it desires." As if he read my soul!
+   That, too, may chance to be. 'Tis not alone
+   His walk, his stature, but his very voice!
+   Leonard so bore himself--was even wont
+   To carry thus his sword upon his arm,
+   And thus to shade his eyebrow with his hand,
+   As if to hide the fire that fill'd his look.
+   So deeply graven images may seem
+   At times to lie asleep within the soul,
+   When all at once a single word--a tone--
+   Calls them to life again. Of Stauffen--right--
+   Filnek and Stauffen--I will soon know more.
+   But first to Saladin. Ha! Daja here--
+   And on the watch! Come nearer, Daja, come.
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                             Daja, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well, both of you have something more at heart
+   Than to know what the Sultan wants with me.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   And you can hardly blame her for it, sir.
+   You were beginning to converse with him
+   More trustingly yourself, when suddenly
+   The Sultan's message drove us from the window.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Go tell her, Daja, she may soon expect
+   A visit from the Templar.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                               What! indeed!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I think I may rely upon you, Daja.
+   Be on your guard, I beg, you'll not repent it.
+   Your conscience shall at length be satisfied,
+   But do not mar my plans. Inquire, explain,
+   But with reserve, with fitting modesty.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No need for such advice. I go, I go.
+   And you must follow; for, see, Hafi comes--
+   The Sultan sends a second messenger.
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                            Nathan, Al-Hafi.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Ha! are you there? I have been seeking you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why in such haste? What can he want with me?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Who?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+          Saladin. But I am coming quickly.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   To whom? To Saladin?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          Has he not sent you?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Me? no--but has he sent already?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  Yes.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Then it is so.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        What's so?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                      That----I'm not guilty,
+   God knows, I'm not to blame; 'tis not my fault.
+   I've done my best--belied, and slandered you--
+   To save you from it.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Save me? and from what?
+   Be plain.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+               From being made his Defterdar.
+   I pity you--I cannot stay to see it.
+   I fly this hour--you know the road I take.
+   Speak, then, if I can serve you; but your wants
+   Must suit a wretch that's wholly destitute.
+   Quick, what's your pleasure?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               Recollect yourself--
+   Your words are mystery. I know of nothing.
+   What do you mean?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                     You'll take your money--bags?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   My money--bags!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                        Ay, bring your treasures forth--
+   The treasures you must shower on Saladin.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And is that all?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+              Ah! shall I witness it,
+   How, day by day, he'll scoop and pare you down,
+   Till nothing but a hollow, empty shell,
+   A husk as light as film, is left behind.
+   Nathan, you've yet to learn how spendthrift waste
+   From prudent bounty's never empty stores
+   Borrows and borrows, till there's not a crumb
+   Left to keep rats from starving. Do not think
+   That he who wants your gold will heed advice.
+   When has the Sultan listened to advice?
+   Hear what befel me with him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   Well--go on.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   He played just now at chess with Sittah. She
+   Is a keen player. I drew near and watched.
+   The game which Saladin supposed was lost,
+   Stood yet upon the board. He had given in,
+   I marked, and cried, "The game's not lost at all!"
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Oh! what a grand discovery for you.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   He needed only to remove his king
+   Behind the castle--and the check was saved.
+   Could I but show you----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           I believe it all!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Then with the castle free, he must have won.
+   I saw it, and I called him to the board.
+   What do you think he did?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  He doubted you.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Not only that--he would not hear a word--
+   And with contempt he overthrew the board.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+             He said he chose it--would be mate.
+   Is that to play the game?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Most surely not.
+   'Twas rather playing with the game.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                                         And yet
+   The stakes were high.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          A trifle to the Sultan!
+   Money is nought to him. It is not that
+   Which galls, but not to hear Al-Hafi out--
+   Not to admire his comprehensive glance,
+   His eagle eye--'tis that demands revenge.
+   Say, am I right?
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                   I only tell this tale
+   That you may know how much his head is worth.
+   But I am weary of him. All the day
+   I am running round to every wretched Moor
+   To borrow--money for him--I who ne'er
+   Ask for myself, am now obliged to sue
+   For others--and, according to my creed,
+   To borrow is to beg, as, when you lend
+   Your money upon usury, you steal.
+   Among my Ghebers on the Ganges' shores
+   I shall need neither; there I shall not be
+   The tool or pimp of any; there alone
+   Upon the Ganges honest men are found.
+   You, Nathan, you alone of all I see
+   Are worthy on the Ganges' banks to live.
+   Then come with me; leave him the wretched gold
+   That he would strip you of--'tis all he wants.
+   Little by little he will ruin you;
+   'Tis better to be quit of all at once;
+   Come, then, and I'll provide you with a staff.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Nay, that resource will still remain for us
+   As a last refuge. But I'll think of it.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+   Nay, ponder not upon a thing like this.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then stay till I have seen the Sultan. Stay
+   Till I have bid farewell.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                              The man who stays
+   To hunt for motives, to search reasons out,
+   Who cannot boldly and at once resolve
+   To live a free man's life, must be the slave
+   Of others till his death. But as you please.
+   Farewell! my path is here, and yours is there!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But stay, Al-Hafi! till you have arranged
+   The state accounts.
+
+                                AL-HAFI.
+
+                        Pah! Nathan, there's no need;
+   The balance in the chest is quickly told,
+   And my account, Sittah, or you, will vouch.
+   Farewell!                                   (_Exit_.)
+
+                     NATHAN (_looking after him_).
+
+              Yes, I will vouch it, honest, wild--
+   How shall I call him? Ah! the real beggar
+   Is, after all, the only real king. (_Exit at opposite side_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT III.
+
+
+                Scene I.--_A room in_ Nathan's _house_.
+
+                              Recha, Daja.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Well, Daja, did my father really say
+   "That I might instantly expect him here?"
+   That surely meant that he would come at once,
+   And yet how many minutes have rolled by!
+   But I'll not dwell upon the moments gone,
+   I'll only live in those that are to come,
+   That one which brings him here must come in time.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   But for the Sultan's ill-timed messenger
+   Nathan had brought him hither.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                    When he comes--
+   Oh! when this dearest of my inmost hopes
+   Shall be fulfilled--what then--what then?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                             What then?
+   Why then I trust the wish most dear to me
+   Will also be fulfilled.
+
+                                  RECHA.
+
+                         And in its place
+   What wish shall take possession of my breast?
+   Which now forgets to heave, unless it pant
+   With some fond wish? Will nothing come? I shudder!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   My wish shall then supplant the one fulfilled,
+   My wish to see you borne to Europe's shores
+   By hands well worthy of you.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                    You do err.
+   The very thought which makes you form this wish
+   Forbids it to be mine. Your native land
+   Attracts you, and has mine no charm for me?
+   Shall a remembrance of your cherished home,
+   Your absent kindred and your dearest friends,
+   Which years and distance have not yet effaced,
+   Rule in your soul with softer, mightier sway
+   Than what I know, and hear, and feel of mine.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   'Tis vain to struggle, for the ways of Heaven
+   Are still the ways of Heaven. And who can say
+   If he who saved your life may not be doomed,
+   Through his God's arm, for whom he nobly fights.
+   To lead you to that people--to that land
+   To which you should belong by right of birth?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   What are you saying, Daja? dearest Daja!
+   Indeed you have some strange and curious thoughts.
+   "_His_ God!" whose God? To whom can God belong,
+   And how can God belong to any man,
+   Or need a human arm to fight his battles?
+   And who, among the scattered clods of earth
+   Can say for which of them himself was born,
+   Unless for that on which he was produced?
+   If Nathan heard thee! How has Nathan sinned,
+   That Daja seeks to paint my happiness
+   So far removed from his? What has he done,
+   That thus amongst the seeds of reason, which
+   He sowed unmixed and pure within my soul,
+   The hand of Daja must for ever seek
+   To plant the weeds, or flowers of her own land?
+   He has no wish to see upon this soil
+   Such rank luxuriant blossoms. I myself
+   Must own I faint beneath the sour--sick odour;
+   Your head is stronger and is used to it.
+   I find no fault with those of stronger nerves
+   Who can support it--mine, alas! give way.
+   Your angel too, how near befool'd was I
+   Through him; I blush whene'er I see my father.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   As if, dear Recha, you alone were wise.
+   Folly! If I might speak----
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                            And may you not?
+   Have I not listened gladly to your tales
+   About the valiant heroes of your faith?
+   Have I not freely on their deeds bestowed
+   My admiration--to their sufferings given
+   The tribute of my tears? Their faith, 'tis true,
+   Has never seemed to me their noblest boast,
+   But, therefore, Daja, I have only learnt
+   To find more consolation in the thought
+   That our devotion to the God of all
+   Depends not on our notions of that God.
+   My father has so often taught me this--
+   You have so often to this point agreed,
+   How can it be that you wish now alone
+   To undermine what you have built together?
+   But this is no discourse with which to wait
+   The friend whom we expect--and yet for me
+   'Tis of some moment whether he----But hark!
+   Hark! Some one comes this way.---If it were he!
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                       The Templar, Daja, Recha.
+
+                  (_A servant ushers in the_ Templar.)
+
+   This way, Sir Knight!--
+
+   (Recha _starts, composes herself, and is about to fall at his
+                                feet_.)
+
+                          'Tis he! my rescuer. Ah!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   'Twas only to avoid this scene that I
+   So long postponed my visit.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                   At the feet
+   Of this proud man, I will thank God alone,
+   And not the man. He does not want my thanks--
+   As little as the bucket does which proved
+   Itself so useful at the fire, and let
+   Itself be filled and emptied; so this man,
+   He too was thrust by chance amid the flames;
+   I dropped by chance into his open arms,
+   By chance remained there, like a fluttering spark
+   Upon his mantle--till--I know not what
+   Expelled us from the flames. What room is here
+   For thanks?--In Europe wine excites the men
+   To greater deeds--The Templar knows his duty,
+   Performs his task, as well-trained spaniels do,
+   Who fetch alike from water and from flames.
+
+ TEMPLAR (_who has been surveying her with surprise and uneasiness_).
+
+   O Daja, Daja! if in hasty hours
+   Of care and grief, this unchecked tongue of mine
+   Betrayed me into rudeness, why convey
+   To her each idle word that leaves my lips?
+   This is indeed too galling a revenge!
+   Yet, if henceforth, you will interpret better----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I question if these little stings, Sir Knight,
+   Were so shot forth as to have done you wrong.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   How! you had cares, and were more covetous
+   Of them than of your life.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             Thou best of beings,
+   How is my soul with eye and ear at strife?
+   No, 'twas not she I rescued from the fire,
+   For who could know her and forbear the deed?
+   In truth, disguised by terror----
+                (_He gazes on her as if entranced_.)
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                  But to me
+   You still appear the same as then you seemed.
+   (_A pause, till she resumes in order to interrupt his reverie_.)
+   Tell me, Sir Knight, where have you been so long?
+   And--I might almost ask--where are you now?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I am where I, perhaps, ought not to be.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   And been, perhaps, where you should not have been.
+   That is not well.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                    I have been up the mountain--
+   What is the name?--ay! Sinai!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       I am glad;
+   For, doubtless, you can tell me if 'tis true----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   If what is true? If holy people show
+   The spot where Moses stood before his God?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh no; not that. Wherever Moses stood
+   It was before his God. I know enough
+   About such things already. Is it true--
+   I wish to learn from you who have been there--
+   If it is not by far less difficult
+   To climb than to descend the holy mount?
+   For with all other mountains that I know,
+   'Tis quite the contrary. You turn away!
+   Why do you turn, Sir Knight? Nay, look at me.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I wish to hear you rather.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                              I perceive,
+   Because you do not wish that I should see
+   You smile at my simplicity. You smile
+   That I have not some more important thing
+   To ask about the holy hill of hills.
+   Is it so?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+             Must I meet those eyes again?
+   And now you cast them down, and check your smile.
+   How can I in those changeful features read
+   What I so plainly hear--the truth your words
+   So audibly declare, and yet would hide?
+   How truly did your father say to me,
+   "If you but knew her!"
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                             Who said that to you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Your father, and of you he spoke the words.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Have I not said it to you many times?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Where is your father now? with Saladin?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Doubtless he is.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                      Still there! Oh, I forget.
+   He cannot still be there. He waits for me,
+   As he appointed, near the cloister gate.
+   Forgive me, I must go in quest of him.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I will do that. Wait here, I'll bring him straight.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   O no, O no! He is expecting me.
+   Besides, you cannot tell what may have chanced.
+   'Tis not unlikely he may be engaged
+   With Saladin--you do not know the Sultan--
+   In some unpleasant----Danger may ensue
+   If I delay.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+              Danger! for whom? for what?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Danger for me--for you--for him! unless
+   I go at once                                    (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+                              Recha, Daja.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                  What is the matter, Daja?
+   So quick! what ails him--makes him fly from hence?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Let him alone. I think it no bad sign.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Sign! and of what?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                           That something vexes him.
+   It boils, but it must not boil over. Go,
+   'Tis your turn now.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        My turn. You have become
+   Incomprehensible to me--like him.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Now you may pay him back with interest
+   All the unrest he once occasioned you.
+   But be not too vindictive--too severe.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Well, Daja, you must know your meaning best.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   And are you then already calm once more?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   In truth I am.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                     Confess at least, dear Recha,
+   That all this restlessness has brought you pleasure,
+   And that you have to thank his want of ease
+   For all the ease that you yourself enjoy.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   I know not that, but I must still confess
+   That to myself it seems a mystery
+   How in this bosom, such a pleasing calm
+   Can suddenly succeed so rude a storm.
+   His countenance, his speech, his manner have----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   By this time satisfied you.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                No, not that.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Well, satisfied your more impatient want.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Well, well, if you must have it so.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        Not I!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   To me he must be ever dear. To me
+   He must remain more dear than life, although
+   My pulse no longer flutters at his name,
+   My heart no longer, when I think of him,
+   Beats with a fuller throb. What have I said?
+   Come, Daja, to the window once again
+   Which overlooks the palms.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   I see 'tis not
+   Yet satisfied, that more impatient want.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Now, I shall see the palm--trees once again;
+   Not him alone amidst them.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  Such a fit
+   Of coldness speaks of fevers yet to come.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Nay, I'm not cold, in truth I do not see
+   Less gladly that which I do calmly see.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+            (_The Hall of Audience in_ Saladin's _Palace_.)
+
+                            Saladin, Sittah.
+
+                     SALADIN (_giving directions_).
+
+   Bring the Jew here, as soon as he arrives.
+   He seems in no great haste.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                Nay, Saladin,
+   Perhaps he was not found at home.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                        Ah, sister!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   You look as if some contest were at hand.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ay! and with weapons I'm not used to wield.
+   Must I then play the hypocrite--and frame
+   Precautions--lay a snare? Where learnt I that?
+   And for what end? To seek for money--money!
+   For money from a Jew? And to such arts
+   Must Saladin descend, that he may win
+   The most contemptible of paltry things?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   But paltry things, despised too much, are sure
+   To find some method of revenge.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    'Tis true!
+   What, if this Jew should prove an upright man,
+   Such as the Dervise painted him?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                        Why, then,
+   Your difficulty ceases; for a snare
+   Implies an avaricious, cheating Jew,
+   And not an upright man. Then he is ours
+   Without a snare. 'Twill give us joy to hear
+   How such a man will speak--with what stern strength
+   He'll tear the net, or with what cunning skill
+   Untangle all its meshes, one by one.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   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 pass.--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 prone
+   To think it is their swords alone that raise them.
+   When with the fox the noble lion hunts,
+   'Tis of the fellowship 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.
+
+                              No, not with you,
+   But in this neighb'ring chamber.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                        What! to listen?
+   Not so, my sister, if I shall succeed.
+   Away! the curtain rustles--he is come.
+   Beware of lingering! I'll be on the watch.
+   (_While_ Sittah _retires through, one door_, Nathan _enters at
+              another, and_ Saladin _seats himself_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                            Saladin, Nathan.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Draw nearer, Jew--yet nearer--close to me!
+   Lay fear aside.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                   Fear, Sultan, 's for your foes.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Your name is Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           Yes.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    Nathan the Wise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+        But, at least the people call you so.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   That may be true. The people!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                       Do not think
+   I treat the people's voice contemptuously.
+   I have been wishing long to know the man
+   Whom it has called the Wise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   What, if it named
+   Him so in scorn? If wise means prudent only--
+   And prudent, one who knows his interest well?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Who knows his real interest, you mean.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Then, Sultan, selfish men were the most prudent,
+   And wise, and prudent, then, would mean the same.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You're proving what your speeches contradict.
+   You know the real interests of man:
+   The people know them not--have never sought
+   To know them. That alone can make man wise.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Which every man conceives himself to be.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   A truce to modesty! To meet it ever,
+   When we are seeking truth is wearisome (_springs up_).
+   So, let us to the point. Be candid, Jew,
+   Be frank and honest.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        I will serve you, prince,
+   And prove that I am worthy of your favour.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   How will you serve me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                You shall have the best
+   Of all I have, and at the cheapest rate.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What mean you? Not your wares?--My sister, then,
+   Shall make the bargain with you. (That's for the listener!)
+   I am not versed in mercantile affairs,
+   And with a merchant's craft I've nought to do.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Doubtless you would inquire if I have marked
+   Upon my route the movements of the foe?
+   Whether he's stirring? If I may presume----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Neither was that my object. On that point
+   I know enough. But hear me.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 I obey.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   It is another, a far different thing
+   On which I seek for wisdom; and since you
+   Are called the Wise, tell me which faith or law
+   You deem the best.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Sultan, I am a Jew.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And I a Mussulman. The Christian stands
+   Between us. Here are three religions, then,
+   And of these three one only can be true.
+   A man like you remains not where his birth
+   By accident has cast him; or if so,
+   Conviction, choice, or ground of preference,
+   Supports him. Let me, Nathan, hear from you,
+   In confidence, the reasons of your choice,
+   Which I have lacked the leisure to examine.
+   It may be, Nathan, that I am the first
+   Sultan who has indulged this strange caprice,
+   Which need not, therefore, make a Sultan blush.
+   Am I the first? Nay, speak; or if you seek
+   A brief delay to shape your scattered thoughts,
+   I yield it freely. (Has she overheard?
+   She will inform me if I've acted right.)
+   Reflect then, Nathan, I shall soon return. (_Exit_.)
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+                           NATHAN (_alone_).
+
+   Strange! how is this? What can the Sultan want?
+   I came prepared for cash--he asks for truth!
+   Truth! as if truth were cash! A coin disused--
+   Valued by weight! If so, 'twere well, indeed!
+   But coin quite new, not coin but for the die,
+   To be flung down and on the counter told----
+   It is not that. Like gold tied up in bags,
+   Will truth lie hoarded in the wise man's head,
+   To be produced at need? Now, in this case,
+   Which of us plays the Jew? He asks for truth.
+   Is truth what he requires? his aim, his end?
+   Or does he use it as a subtle snare?
+   That were too petty for his noble mind.
+   Yet what is e'er too petty for the great?
+   Did he not rush at once into the house,
+   Whilst, as a friend, he would have paused or knocked?
+   I must beware. Yet to repel him now
+   And act the stubborn Jew, is not the thing;
+   And wholly to fling off the Jew, still less.
+   For if no Jew, he might with justice ask,
+   Why not a Mussulman?--That thought may serve.--
+   Others than children may be quieted
+   With tales well told. But see, he comes--he comes.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                            Saladin, Nathan.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   (_Aside_) (The coast is clear)--I am not come too soon?
+   Have you reflected on this matter, Nathan?
+   Speak! no one hears.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                           Would all the world might hear!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And are you of your cause so confident?
+   'Tis wise, indeed, of you to hide no truth,
+   For truth to hazard all, even life and goods.
+
+                                 NATHAN.
+
+   Ay, when necessity and profit bid.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I hope that henceforth I shall rightly bear
+   One of my names, "Reformer of the world
+   And of the law!"
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      A noble title, truly;
+   But, Sultan, ere I quite explain myself,
+   Permit me to relate a tale.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Why not?
+   I ever was a friend of tales well told.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well told! Ah, Sultan! that's another thing.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What! still so proudly modest? But begin.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   In days of yore, there dwelt in Eastern lands
+   A man, who from a valued hand received
+   A ring of priceless worth. An opal stone
+   Shot from within an ever-changing hue,
+   And held this virtue in its form concealed,
+   To render him of God and man beloved,
+   Who wore it in this fixed unchanging faith.
+   No wonder that its Eastern owner ne'er
+   Withdrew it from his finger, and resolved
+   That to his house the ring should be secured.
+   Therefore he thus bequeathed it: first to him
+   Who was the most beloved of his sons,
+   Ordaining then that he should leave the ring
+   To the most dear among his children; then,
+   That without heeding birth, the fav'rite son,
+   In virtue of the ring alone, should still
+   Be lord of all the house. You hear me, Sultan?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I understand. Proceed.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             From son to son,
+   The ring at length descended to a sire
+   Who had three sons, alike obedient to him,
+   And whom he loved with just and equal love.
+   The first, the second, and the third, in turn,
+   According as they each apart received
+   The overflowings of his heart, appeared
+   Most worthy as his heir, to take the ring,
+   Which, with good-natured weakness, he in turn
+   Had promised privately to each; and thus
+   Things lasted for a while. But death approached,
+   The father now embarrassed, could not bear
+   To disappoint two sons, who trusted him.
+   What's to be done? In secret he commands
+   The jeweller to come, that from the form
+   Of the true ring, he may bespeak two more.
+   Nor cost nor pains are to be spared, to make
+   The rings alike--quite like the true one. This
+   The artist managed. When the rings were brought
+   The father's eye could not distinguish which
+   Had been the model. Overjoyed, he calls
+   His sons, takes leave of each apart--bestows
+   His blessing and his ring on each--and dies.
+   You hear me?
+
+             SALADIN (_who has turned away in perplexity_).
+
+                      Ay! I hear. Conclude the tale.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   'Tis ended, Sultan! All that follows next
+   May well be guessed. Scarce is the father dead,
+   When with his ring, each separate son appears,
+   And claims to be the lord of all the house.
+   Question arises, tumult and debate--
+   But all in vain--the true ring could no more
+   Be then distinguished than----(_after a pause, in which he
+     awaits the Sultan's reply_) the true faith now.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Is that your answer to my question?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                              No!
+   But it may serve as my apology.
+   I cannot venture to decide between
+   Rings which the father had expressly made,
+   To baffle those who would distinguish them.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Rings, Nathan! Come, a truce to this! The creeds
+   Which I have named have broad, distinctive marks,
+   Differing in raiment, food, and drink!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                           'Tis true!
+   But then they differ not in their foundation.
+   Are not all built on history alike,
+   Traditional or written? History
+   Must be received on trust. Is it not so?
+   In whom are we most likely to put trust?
+   In our own people? in those very men
+   Whose blood we are? who, from our earliest youth
+   Have proved their love for us, have ne'er deceived,
+   Except in cases where 'twere better so?
+   Why should I credit my forefathers less
+   Than you do yours? or can I ask of you
+   To charge your ancestors with falsehood, that
+   The praise of truth may be bestowed on mine?
+   And so of Christians.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                         By our Prophet's faith,
+   The man is right. I have no more to say.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Now let us to our rings once more return.
+   We said the sons complained; each to the judge
+   Swore from his father's hand immediately
+   To have received the ring--as was the case--
+   In virtue of a promise, that he should
+   One day enjoy the ring's prerogative.
+   In this they spoke the truth. Then each maintained
+   It was not possible that to himself
+   His father had been false. Each could not think
+   His father guilty of an act so base.
+   Rather than that, reluctant as he was
+   To judge his brethren, he must yet declare
+   Some treach'rous act of falsehood had been done.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well! and the judge? I'm curious now to hear
+   What you will make him say. Go on, go on!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The judge said: If the father is not brought
+   Before my seat, I cannot judge the case.
+   Am I to judge enigmas? Do you think
+   That the true ring will here unseal its lips?
+   But, hold! You tell me that the real ring
+   Enjoys the secret power to make the man
+   Who wears it, both by God and man, beloved.
+   Let that decide. Who of the three is loved
+   Best by his brethren? Is there no reply?
+   What! do these love--exciting rings alone
+   Act inwardly? Have they no outward charm?
+   Does each one love himself alone? You're all
+   Deceived deceivers. All your rings are false.
+   The real ring, perchance, has disappeared;
+   And so your father, to supply the loss,
+   Has caused three rings to fill the place of one.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   O, charming, charming!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         And,--the judge continued:--
+   If you insist on judgment, and refuse
+   My counsel, be it so. I recommend
+   That you consider how the matter stands.
+   Each from his father has received a ring:
+   Let each then think the real ring his own.
+   Your father, possibly, desired to free
+   His power from one ring's tyrannous control.
+   He loved you all with an impartial love,
+   And equally, and had no inward wish
+   To prove the measure of his love for one
+   By pressing heavily upon the rest.
+   Therefore, let each one imitate this love;
+   So, free from prejudice, let each one aim
+   To emulate his brethren in the strife
+   To prove the virtues of his several ring,
+   By offices of kindness and of love,
+   And trust in God. And if, in years to come,
+   The virtues of the ring shall reappear
+   Amongst your children's children, then, once more,
+   Come to this judgment--seat. A greater far
+   Than I shall sit upon it, and decide.
+   So spake the modest judge.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Oh God, O God!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And if now, Saladin, you think you're he----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+(_Approaches_ Nathan, _and takes his hand, which he retains to the end
+of the scene_.)
+
+   This promised judge--I?--Dust! I?--Nought! oh God!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What is the matter, Sultan?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                   Dearest Nathan!
+   That judge's thousand years are not yet past;
+   His judgment-seat is not for me. But go,
+   And still remain my friend.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 Has Saladin
+   Aught else to say?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        No.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Nothing?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                          Truly nothing.
+   But why this eagerness?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              I could have wished
+   An opportunity to ask a boon.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+Wait not for opportunity. Speak now.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I have been traveling, and am just returned
+   From a long journey, from collecting debts.
+   Hard cash is troublesome these perilous times,
+   I know not where I may bestow it safely.
+   These coming wars need money; and, perchance,
+   You can employ it for me, Saladin?
+
+                SALADIN (_fixing his eyes upon_ Nathan).
+
+   I ask not, Nathan, have you seen Al-Hafi?
+   Nor if some shrewd suspicion of your own
+   Moves you to make this offer.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   What suspicion?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I do not ask--forgive me,--it is just,
+   For what avails concealment? I confess
+   I was about----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                 To ask this very thing?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Yes!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+          Then our objects are at once fulfilled,
+   And if I cannot send you all my store,
+   The Templar is to blame for that. You know
+   The man. I owe a heavy debt to him.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   The Templar! Surely, Nathan, with your gold
+   You do not aid my direst foes?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    I speak
+   Of him whose life was spared by Saladin.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Of what do you remind me? I had quite
+   Forgot the youth. Where is he? Know you him?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Have you not heard, then, how your clemency
+   Through him has flowed to me? How, at the risk
+   Of the existence which your mercy gave,
+   He saved my daughter from the raging flames?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ha! did he so? He looked like one that would!
+   My brother, too--his image--would have done it.
+   Is he still here? Bring him to me at once.
+   I have so often spoken to my sister
+   Of this same brother, whom she never knew,
+   That I must let her see his counterfeit.
+   Go, fetch him. How a single noble deed,
+   Though but the offspring of the merest whim,
+   Gives birth to other blessings! Bring him to me.
+
+                  NATHAN (_loosing_ Saladin's _hand_).
+
+   I'll go--the other matter then is settled. (_Exit_.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I wish I had but let my sister listen.
+   I'll go at once to her and tell it all.
+                              (_Exit on the opposite side_.)
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+_The Place of Palms in the neighbourhood of the Convent, where the_
+Templar _awaits_ Nathan.
+
+       TEMPLAR (_walking to and fro, in conflict with himself_.)
+
+   The panting victim here may rest awhile.
+   So far 'tis well. I dare not ask myself
+   What change has sprung within me, nor inquire
+   What yet may happen. Flight has proved in vain,
+   And, come what may, I could no more than flee,
+   The stroke was far too sudden to escape.
+   Long--much--I strove to keep aloof, in vain.
+   But once to see her, e'en against my will,
+   To see her, and to frame a firm resolve
+   Never to lose her. What, then, is resolve?
+   Resolve is purpose--action, while--in truth--
+   I was but passive. But to see her once,
+   And feel that I was woven into her being,
+   Was then and still remains the self-same thing.
+   To live apart from her--oh, bitter thought!--
+   Were death; and after death--where'er we were--
+   'Twould there be death too. Say, then, is this love?
+   And doth the Templar love? A Christian loves
+   A Jewish maiden! Well, and what of that?
+   This is the holy land; holy to me,
+   And dear, because I have of late renounced
+   Full many a prejudice. What says my vow?
+   In the same hour that made me prisoner
+   To Saladin. The head he gave me back,
+   Was it the old one? No. I'm newly framed,
+   I know no fragment of the ancient forms
+   That bound me once. My brain is clearer now,
+   More fit for my paternal home above.
+   Now I can think as once my father thought,
+   If tales of him are not untruly told--
+   Tales that were ne'er so credible as now,
+   When I am stumbling where my father fell.
+   Fell! yet 'twere better far to fall with men
+   Than stand with boys. His conduct guarantees
+   His approbation. And what need I more
+   Than Nathan's approbation? Of his praise
+   I cannot doubt. Oh, what a Jew is he!
+   And yet he would appear the simple Jew.
+   But, see, he comes--he comes in haste--delight
+   Beams from his eye. But who leaves Saladin
+   With other looks? Ho! Nathan!
+
+
+                               Scene IX.
+
+                         Nathan, _the_ Templar.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    Are you there?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Your visit to the Sultan has been long.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Not over long. My audience was delayed.
+   But, Conrad, this man well supports his fame--
+   His fame is but his shadow. But I must
+   Without delay inform you that he would----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                                Say on.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Would speak with you. So, come with me at once.
+   I have some brief commands to give at home,
+   Then to the Sultan.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Nathan, I will ne'er
+   Enter your door again----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            Then you've been there
+   Already--spoken with her. Tell me all.
+   How do you like my Recha?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Words would fail
+   To tell how much. I dare not trust myself
+   Alone with her again, unless you say
+   That I may gaze upon her form for ever.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What can this mean?
+
+        TEMPLAR (_after a short pause, embracing him suddenly_).
+
+                              My father!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   How, young man?
+
+              TEMPLAR (_withdrawing himself as suddenly_).
+
+   Call me your son! I do implore you, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Dear youth!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  And not your son! I pray you, Nathan,
+   Conjure you, by the strongest ties of Nature,
+   Let it content you now to be a man:
+   Repel me not.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    My dearest friend!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    Say son!
+   Why not your son? What, if in Recha's heart
+   Mere gratitude had paved the way for love,
+   And if we both but waited your assent
+   To crown our union! You are silent, sir!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I am astonished at your words, young Knight.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Astonished! Do I then astonish you
+   With your own thoughts, although you know them not
+   When uttered by my lips. Astonished, Nathan?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Would that I knew what Stauffen was your father!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What say you, Nathan? At a time like this,
+   Can you indulge such empty, curious thoughts?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I knew a Stauffen once whose name was Conrad.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What, if my father bore that very name?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   And did he so?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                   I bear my father's name,
+   I am called Conrad.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       So! And yet the man
+   I knew was not your father, for, like you,
+   He was a Templar, and was never married.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And what of that?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        How?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    He might still have been
+   My father.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  Nay, you jest.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               You're far too good.
+   What matters it? Does bastard wound your ear?
+   The race, good sir, is not to be despised.
+   But spare my pedigree, and I'll spare yours.
+   Great God! forbid my words should ever cast
+   The smallest doubt on your ancestral tree.
+   You can attest it backwards, leaf by leaf,
+   To Abraham. And from that point--I know it well,
+   Myself--can even swear to it.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Your words are bitter. Do I merit this?
+   What have I e'er refused you? I have but
+   Forborn assent at the first word you spoke.
+   No more!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+             Oh! true, no more. Forgive me, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well, come with me, come.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Whither? to your house?
+   That will I not--it burns. I'll wait you here.
+   Farewell. If I'm to see her once again,
+   I then shall see her often; and if not,
+   I have already seen her too--too much.
+
+
+                                Scene X.
+
+                          _The_ Templar, Daja.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Too much, indeed! Strange that the human brain
+   So infinite of comprehension, should
+   At times with a mere trifle be engrossed,
+   Suddenly filled, and all at once quite full,
+   No matter what it teems with. But the soul
+   Soon calms again, and the fermenting stuff
+   Makes itself room, restoring life and order.
+   And is this, then, the first time that I love?
+   And was the glow to which I gave that name
+   Not love at all? And is this love alone
+   Which now with burning flame consumes my heart?
+
+                 DAJA (_who has crept up to his side_).
+
+   Sir Knight! Sir Knight!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           Who calls? What, Daja, you!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Yes, I am here; I managed to slip by him.
+   But he can see us where we stand. Come nearer,
+   And place yourself with me behind this tree.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Why so mysterious? What's the secret, Daja?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Yes, 'tis a secret which has brought me hither--
+   A twofold secret. Part is known to me,
+   The other part to you. Come, let us change:
+   First tell me yours, and then I'll tell you mine.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Yes, willingly, when I have ascertained
+   What you call mine. But yours will throw a light
+   Upon the whole. Begin, then.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                   That's not fair;
+   You must begin, Sir Knight, and I will follow.
+   For be assured my secret's nothing worth,
+   Unless I hear yours first. Then lose no time,
+   For if I guess it, you've not trusted me;
+   My secret, then, will be my own, and yours
+   Worth nothing. But do you suppose, Sir Knight,
+   That you can hide such secrets from a woman?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Secrets we often are unconscious of.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Perhaps. But I must prove myself your friend
+   And tell you all. Confess how happened it
+   That you so suddenly took leave of us,
+   And that with Nathan you will not return?
+   Has Recha, then, made no impression on you,
+   Or made too deep a one, perchance? Oh yes!
+   Too deep--too deep! You are a hapless bird
+   Whose fluttering wing the fatal twig has limed,
+   Confess it, plainly, with a word, you love--
+   Love her to madness, and I'll tell you then----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   To madness? Ah! you understand it well.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Well, grant the love, the madness I'll resign.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Because, of course, there is no doubt of it.
+   A Templar love a Jewess!----
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              Why, it seems
+   Absurd. But often there's more fitness in
+   Some things than we can readily discern;
+   And 'twould not be the first time that our Lord
+   Had drawn us to Him by a secret path
+   Which we had ne'er discovered of ourselves.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Solemnly spoken I (and if for our Lord
+   I substituted Providence, 'twere true).
+   You make me curious, far beyond my wont.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   This is the land of miracles!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Ay, true,
+   Of miracles! Can it be otherwise,
+   When all the world flocks hither? Dearest Daja,
+   You have your wish; so take it as confessed
+   That I do love her, nor can comprehend
+   How I can live without her.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                Can this be?
+   Then swear, Sir Knight, to make her yours--to save
+   Her here on earth--to save her there for ever.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   How can I this? How can I swear to do
+   What stands not in my power.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                  'Tis in your power!
+   One single word brings it within your power.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But will her father smile upon my suit?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Her father, truly! He shall be compelled.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Compell'd! What, has he fallen among thieves?
+   Compell'd!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+             Then hear me. Nathan will consent:
+   He must consent.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Consent! and must! Oh, Daja!
+   I have already tried to touch that chord;
+   It vibrates not responsive.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    What! reject you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   He answered me in such discordant tone
+   That I was hurt.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   What say you? Did you breathe
+   The shadow of a wish to marry Recha.
+   And did not Nathan leap for joy? Did he
+   Draw coldly back--raise obstacles?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        He did.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+            Then I'll deliberate no moment more.
+
+                       TEMPLAR (_after a pause_).
+
+   And yet you are deliberating still.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Nathan in all things has been ever good.
+   I owe him much. Did he refuse to listen?
+   God knows it grieves me to constrain him thus.
+
+                                 TEMPLAR.
+
+   I pray you, Daja, now to terminate
+   This dire uncertainty. But if you doubt
+   Whether the thing you would impart to me
+   Be right or wrong, worthy of shame or honour,
+   Then tell it not, and henceforth I'll forget
+   You have a secret it were well to hide.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Your words but spur me on to tell you all.
+   Then learn that Recha is no Jewess--that
+   She is a Christian maid.
+
+                          TEMPLAR (_coldly_).
+
+                              I wish you joy!
+   At last the tedious labour's at an end.
+   The birth-pangs have not hurt you. Still go on
+   With undiminished zeal, and people heaven
+   When you are fit no more to people earth.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   How, Knight! and does the news I bring deserve
+   Such bitter taunts? Does it confer no joy
+   On you to hear that Recha is a Christian,
+   On you, her lover, and a Christian knight?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And more especially since Recha is
+   A Christian of your making?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                 Think you so?
+   Then I would fain see him that may convert her.
+   It is her fate long since to have been that
+   Which she can now no more become.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                              Explain,
+   Or leave me.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                   Well! she is a Christian maid,
+   Of Christian parents born--and is baptised.
+
+                          TEMPLAR (_hastily_).
+
+   And Nathan!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                  Not her father.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             Nathan not
+   Her father? Are you sure of that?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        I am;
+   The truth has cost me tears of blood. He's not.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But as his daughter he has brought her up,
+   Brought up the Christian maiden as a Jewess?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Just so.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+             And knows she aught about her birth?
+   Has she not learnt from him that she was born
+   A Christian and no Jewess?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    Never yet.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And he not only let the child grow up
+   In this mistaken notion, but he leaves
+   The woman in it.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                        Ay, alas!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Oh, Nathan!
+   How can the wise, good Nathan lend himself
+   To stifle Nature's voice--to misdirect
+   The yearnings of a heart in such a way
+   Which, to itself abandoned, would have formed
+   Another bias, Daja? Ay, in truth,
+   The secret is of moment, and may have
+   Important issues. But I feel perplexed:
+   I know not how I ought to act. But go,
+   Let me have breathing time. He may approach,
+   He may surprise us suddenly. Farewell!
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   I tremble with affright.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         And I can scarce
+   Express my thoughts. But go; and should you chance
+   To meet him, say he'll find me at the Sultan's.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Let him not see that you have any thing
+   Against him. That 'twere well to keep reserved,
+   To give the proper turn to things at last.
+   It may remove your scruples, touching Recha.
+   But if you take her back to Europe, Knight,
+   You will not leave me here?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    We'll see, now go!
+
+
+
+
+                                ACT IV.
+
+               Scene I.--_The Cloisters of the Convent_.
+
+          _The_ Friar, _and presently afterwards the_ Templar.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Ay, ay! he must be right, the Patriarch!
+   And yet, of all his business, no great part
+   Has prospered in my hands. But why should he
+   Entrust such tasks to me? I have no wish
+   To play the knave, to wheedle and persuade,
+   To worm out secrets, and to thrust my hand
+   Into my neighbour's business. Not for this
+   Did I renounce the world, that I might be
+   Entangled with its cares for other men.
+
+                     TEMPLAR (_entering abruptly_).
+
+   Good brother, are you here? I've sought you long.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Me, sir?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+               What, don't you recollect me, then?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Ay! but, Sir Knight, I never thought to see
+   Your face again--and so I hoped in God.
+   God knows how much I hated the proposal
+   Which I was bound to make you, and He knows
+   How little I desired you should assent,
+   How in my inmost soul I was rejoiced
+   When you refused, without a moment's thought,
+   To do what had been shameful in a Knight.
+   But have you thought the matter o'er again?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You seem to know what object brings me here.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Have you, Sir Knight, reflected by this time,
+   That our good Patriarch is not much deceived
+   In thinking gold and glory may be won
+   By his commission? that a foe's a foe,
+   Were he our guardian angel seven times o'er?
+   Have you 'gainst flesh and blood weighed all these things,
+   And are you come to strike a bargain now?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   My dear good man, be patient; not for this
+   Am I come hither; not for aught like this
+   Do I desire to see the Patriarch.
+   On every point my thoughts remain unchanged;
+   Nor would I for the wealth of all this world
+   Forfeit that good opinion, which I won
+   From such an upright, honest man as you.
+   I merely come to ask the Patriarch
+   For counsel.
+
+                    FRIAR (_looking round timidly_).
+
+                 Counsel from the Patriarch!
+   What, you! a knight to ask a priest's advice!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Mine is a priestly business.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                 Yet the priests
+   Would scorn a knight's advice, were their affairs
+   Ever so knightly.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Therefore they're allowed
+   To err sometimes, a privilege which I,
+   For one, don't greatly envy them; and yet,
+   If I were acting only for myself,
+   And were not bound to others, I should care
+   But little for advice. But in some things
+   'Twere better to go wrong by others' guidance
+   Than, by our own, go right. And I observe,
+   By this time, that religion's naught but party,
+   And he who in his own belief is most
+   Impartial, does but hold the standard up
+   Of his own creed, howe'er unconsciously.
+   Yet since 'tis so, it must be right.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                     I'm silent.
+   In truth, I don't quite comprehend.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        And yet--
+   (Let me consider first what 'tis I want--
+   Decision or advice from sage or simple?)
+   Thanks, brother; yes, I thank you for your hint.
+   What is a patriarch? Be thou for once
+   My patriarch; for 'tis the Christian rather
+   Whom in the patriarch I would consult,
+   Than in the Christian the mere patriarch.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Hold, hold, Sir Knight! no more of this, I find
+   That you mistake me. He who hath learnt much
+   Must needs have many cares. I know but one----
+   But hark, behold! here comes the very man!
+   'Tis he, so stay; he has perceived us both.
+
+
+                                Scene II.
+
+_The_ Patriarch, _after marching up one of the aisles with great pomp,
+approaches_.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I'd rather shun him--he is not my man--
+   A round, red smiling prelate! And what state!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   But you should see him at a festival,
+   Now he but comes from visiting the sick.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Great Saladin will then have cause to blush.
+
+        PATRIARCH (_coming forward, makes signs to the_ Friar).
+
+   Was that the Templar? What's his business here?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I know not.
+
+   PATRIARCH (_advancing, whilst the_ Friar _and his train retire_.)
+
+                  Well, Sir Knight, I'm truly glad
+   To meet so brave a youth. So very young,
+   Something may come of him, if Heaven assist.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Not more than has already come of him,
+   But rather less, my reverend father.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                                           Well,
+   It is my prayer that so devout a Knight
+   May for the cause of Christendom and God
+   Be long preserved; nor can it fail to be,
+   If valour will give ear to aged words.
+   Then say, how can I serve you, Sir?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        With that
+   In which my youth's deficient--sound advice.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   Most gladly, if you'll follow my advice.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Not blindly, though.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                        Whose words are those? Indeed,
+   None should neglect to use the intellect
+   Bestowed by God, when it is suitable.
+   But is it always suitable? O no!
+   If God, through one of the celestial choir--
+   That is, through one of the blest ministers
+   Of His most sacred word--should condescend
+   To show some way by which the Church's weal,
+   Or else the general good of Christendom,
+   Might be secured, what man would venture then
+   To weigh the laws of intellect against
+   His will, who fashioned intellect itself?
+   Or measure the unchanged decrees of Heaven
+   By empty rules that suit this petty world?
+   But of all this enough. Now tell me, Knight,
+   Wherefore you seek our counsel?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                 Reverend father!
+   Suppose a Jew possessed an only child--
+   A girl--whom he with fond parental care
+   Trained to each virtue, treasured as his soul,
+   Whilst she, with love as ardent as his own,
+   Repaid his love,--suppose it rumoured then
+   That she was not the daughter of this Jew,
+   But a poor orphan, purchased in her youth,
+   Or stolen, or found--or anything, but still
+   Of Christian birth, and in her youth baptised,
+   And that the Jew had reared her in his faith,
+   Allowed her to be thought a Jewish maid,
+   And firmly to believe herself his child,--
+   Say, reverend father, what should then be done?
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   I shudder at the thought! But, worthy Sir,
+   Say, is this fact, or mere hypothesis?
+   That is, if your own head has framed the case,
+   Or has it happened--does it still exist?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That's unimportant, and could not assist
+   Your reverence to pronounce upon the point.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   What! unimportant! See, Sir Knight, how apt
+   Proud reason is to err in sacred things.
+   'Tis of deep import; though, 'tis true, the case
+   May be the offspring of your sportive wit,
+   When we should straight dismiss it from our thoughts,
+   And I should then refer you to the stage
+   Where _pros_ and _cons_ like these are oft discussed
+   With loud applause. But if the object be,
+   By something better than a sleight of hand,
+   To sound my judgment, if the thing be fact,
+   And may have happened in our diocese,
+   Here in our dear Jerusalem itself,
+   Why then----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  What then?
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                         Then were it well, Sir Knight,
+   To execute at once upon the Jew
+   The penalty provided for the case,
+   By Papal and Imperial laws, against
+   So foul a crime, such dire iniquity.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+             The laws I mention have decreed
+   That if a Jew shall to apostasy
+   Seduce a Christian, he shall die by fire.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+            How much more when a Jew by force
+   Tears from baptismal bonds a Christian child?
+   For all that's done to children is by force,
+   Save what the Church shall order and perform.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What if the child were steeped in misery,
+   And must have died, but for this bounteous Jew?
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   It matters not: the Jew should still be burnt.
+   'Twere better to expire in misery,
+   Than live to suffer never-ending pains.
+   The Jew moreover should not have forestalled
+   The hand of God, whom had He willed to save,
+   Could save without him.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              Make him happy too,
+   In spite of him.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                     It matters not, the Jew
+   Must still be burnt.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        That grieves me very much,
+   And all the more, as people say that he
+   Has reared the child not in his own belief,
+   So much as in no faith at all, and taught
+   Her neither more nor less of God than is
+   By reason asked.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                        It matters not, the Jew
+   Must still be burnt--and for this very cause
+   Would merit threefold death. To rear a child
+   Without a faith! Not even teach a child
+   The greatest of all duties--to believe!
+   'Tis heinous, and I'm rapt in wonder, Knight,
+   That you yourself----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         Oh, reverend Sir, the rest
+   In the confessional, if God allow. (_Is going_.)
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+   What, going! and not await my questioning!
+   Not name to me this infidel, this Jew!
+   Not find him out for me at once! But, hold!
+   A thought occurs. I'll to the Sultan straight.
+   According to the treaty we have sworn
+   With Saladin, he must protect our creed
+   With all the privileges, all the rights
+   That appertain to our most holy faith.
+   Thank God! we have retained the deed itself,
+   With seal and signature affixed, and we
+   Can readily convince him, make him feel
+   How full of peril for the state it is
+   Not to believe. All civil bonds are rent
+   Asunder, torn to pieces, Knight, when men
+   Have no belief. Away, away for ever
+   With such impiety!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         I much deplore
+   That I want time to relish this discourse,
+   This holy sermon. Saladin awaits
+   My coming.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                  Ah, indeed!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             And I'll prepare
+   The Sultan for your presence, reverend Sir,
+   If you desire.
+
+                               PATRIARCH.
+
+                  Why, yes! for I have heard
+   You have found favour in the Sultan's sight.
+   I beg to be remembered with respect.
+   Zeal in the cause of God impels me on,
+   And all excesses are performed for Him.
+   Weigh that in kindness, then, most noble 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 Assad's voice still slumbers in my soul!)
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                      _The_ Templar _and_ Saladin.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I am your prisoner, Sultan.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                You my prisoner!
+   Shall I refuse him liberty, whose life
+   I freely spared?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                     It is my duty, Sire,
+   To hear, and not anticipate, your will.
+   Yet it but ill becomes my character
+   And station, Sultan, to be thus profuse
+   Of gratitude because you've spared my life--
+   A life which henceforth is at your command.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Only forbear to use it to my hurt.
+   Not that I grudge my mortal enemy
+   Another pair of hands; but such a heart
+   As yours I do not yield him willingly.
+   You valiant youth! I have not gauged you ill:
+   In soul and body, you are truly Assad.
+   I fain would learn where you have been so long
+   Concealed. In what dim cavern you have slept?
+   What spirit, in some region of the blest,
+   Has kept this beauteous flower so fresh in bloom?
+   Methinks I could remind you of our sports
+   In days gone by; and I could chide you, too,
+   For having kept one secret from my ear,
+   For having dared one gallant deed alone.
+   I'm happy that so much of this deceit
+   At least is true, that in my sear of life
+   An Assad blooms for me once more. And you,
+   You too are happy, Knight!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  Whate'er you will--
+   Whatever be your thought--lies as a wish
+   Within mine inmost soul.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                             We'll prove you, then.
+   Will you abide with me?--cling to my side,
+   Whether as Christian or as Mussulman,
+   In turban or white mantle? Choose your garb--
+   Choose for yourself. I never have desired
+   That the same bark should grow on every tree.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+   Else, Saladin, you never had become
+   The hero that you are--who'd rather be
+   The gardener of the Lord.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 If thus you think
+   Of Saladin, we're half agreed, already----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Nay, quite!
+
+                     SALADIN (_offering his hand_).
+
+   One word!
+
+                         TEMPLAR (_taking it_).
+
+                             One man! and with this hand
+   Take more than you can e'er take back again.
+   Henceforth I'm wholly yours.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                This is too much--
+   For one day 'tis too much! Came he not with you?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Who?
+                                SALADIN.
+
+            Who? Nathan.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              No; I came alone.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Oh, what a deed was thine! what happiness
+   That such a deed should serve so good a man!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   'Twas nothing.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                Why so cold, O valiant youth!
+   When God makes man His minister of good,
+   He need not be so cold, nor modestly
+   Wish to appear so cold.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              But in the world
+   All things have many sides, and who is he
+   Can comprehend how they may fit each other?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Cling ever to what's noble, and praise God!
+   He knows how all things fit. But if you are
+   So scrupulous, young man, I must beware.
+   I too have many sides, and some of them
+   May seem to you not always made to fit.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That grieves me; for suspicion, at the least,
+   Is not a sin of mine.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     Then, tell me, whom
+   Do you suspect? Not Nathan, surely? What!
+   Nathan suspected, and by you? Explain--
+   Afford me this first proof of confidence.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I've nothing against Nathan. I am vexed,
+   But with myself alone.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Why so?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                     For dreaming
+   That any Jew can think himself no Jew.
+   I dreamt this waking.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Tell me all your dream.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   You know that Nathan has a daughter, Sultan!
+   And what I did for her, I did--because
+   I did it. Far too proud to reap the thanks
+   I had not sown, from day to day I shunned
+   The maiden's sight. Her father was afar.
+   He comes, he hears, he seeks me, give me thanks;
+   Wishes that she might please me, and he talks
+   Of dawning prospects. Well, I hear it all,
+   I listen to him, go and see the maid--
+   O! such a maiden, Sultan. But, I blush.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Why blush? Blush that a Jewish maid should win
+   Your admiration? 'Tis a venial fault.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But oh! that, through her father's sweet discourse,
+   To this impression my o'er-hasty heart
+   Such weak resistance offered! Fool. I leaped
+   A second time into the flame, and then
+   I wooed, and was denied.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    Denied?--denied?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   The prudent father does not plainly say
+   No, to my suit--but he must first inquire--
+   He must reflect. Well, be it so. Had I
+   Not done the same? I looked about, inquired--
+   Reflected--ere I plunged into the flames
+   Where she was shrieking. Oh, by Heaven! it is
+   A splendid thing to be so circumspect!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Nay, but you must concede somewhat to age.
+   His doubts will pass away, nor will he wish
+   You to become a Jew.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              Who knows?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                          Who knows!
+   One who knows Nathan better than yourself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   And yet the superstitions we have learned
+   From education, do not lose their power
+   When we have found them out; nor are all free
+   Whose judgment mocks the galling chains they wear.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   'Tis wisely said; but Nathan, surely Nathan----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   That superstition is the worst of all
+   Which thinks itself the easiest to be borne----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   'Tis possible. But Nathan----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                And to trust
+   To it alone a blind humanity
+   Till it is used to truth's more brilliant light.
+   To it alone----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                      Well, well! But Nathan's fate
+   Is not to be so weak----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              I thought so once,
+   But what if this bright pattern to mankind
+   Were such a thorough Jew that he seeks out
+   For Christian children to bring up as Jews?
+   How then?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  Who speaks so of him?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                        E'en the maid
+   For whom I'm so distressed, with hopes of whom
+   He seemed so glad to recompense the deed
+   He would not suffer me to do for naught.
+   This maid is not his daughter; no, she is
+   A kidnapped Christian child.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                       Whom Nathan now
+   Refuses you!
+
+                         TEMPLAR (_earnestly_).
+
+                   Refuse or not refuse,
+   He is found out--the prating hypocrite
+   Is now found out; but on this Jewish wolf,
+   For all his philosophical sheep's garb,
+   Dogs I can loosen who will tear his hide.
+
+                         SALADIN (_earnestly_).
+
+   Peace, Christian!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  What! peace, Christian? Wherefore so?
+   Shall Jew and Mussulman be free to boast
+   Their creeds, and shall the Christian be ashamed
+   To own his faith?
+
+                      SALADIN (_more earnestly_).
+
+                        Peace, Christian!
+
+                           TEMPLAR (_calmly_).
+
+                                         Yes, I feel
+   What weight of blame lies in your calm reproof--
+   In that one word pronounced by Saladin.
+   Oh! that I knew what Assad would have done
+   Had he but fill'd my place!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                               He had not done
+   Much better; nay, perhaps, had been more warm.
+   Where did you learn to bribe me with a word?
+   And yet, in truth, if all has happened so
+   As you narrate, it is not much like Nathan.
+   But Nathan is my friend, and of my friends
+   One must not quarrel with the other. So
+   Take counsel, act with prudence. Do not loose
+   On him the fanatics among your race.
+   Keep silence. All the clergy of your sect
+   Would call to me for vengeance upon him
+   With far more show of right than I could wish.
+   Let not revenge impel you to become
+   A Christian to the Jew or Mussulman.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Thanks to the Patriarch's bloodthirsty rage,
+   Your counsel almost comes too late; and I
+   Had nearly proved his cruel instrument.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   How so? and did you see the Patriarch
+   Before you came to me?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Yes, in the storm
+   Of passion--in the whirl of doubt----Forgive me.
+   I fear you will no longer find in me
+   One feature of your Assad.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Yes, that fear
+   Is like him. But, methinks, I know full well
+   The weaknesses from which our virtues spring:
+   Attend to these--the former cannot hurt.
+   But go, seek Nathan, as he sought for you,
+   And bring him hither. Be but reconciled.
+   Are you in earnest, Knight, about this maid?
+   Be calm--she shall be yours. Nathan shall feel
+   That without swines-flesh he has dared to rear
+   A Christian child. Now, Templar, leave me. Go!
+                   (_Exit the_ Templar. Sittah _leaves the sofa_.)
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                         Saladin _and_ Sittah.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   'Tis strange, indeed.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                      What say you now, my Sittah?
+   Was not our Assad once a handsome youth?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   If this were like him, and 'twere not the knight
+   Who had his portrait taken. But, dear brother,
+   How could you ever so forget yourself
+   As not to make inquiry for his parents?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And more especially about his mother?
+   That was your meaning--eh?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                              You are too quick.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   But nothing is more possible; for he,
+   My brother Assad, was so favoured by
+   The Christian ladies--handsome Christian ladies--
+   That a report once spread----But 'tis not right
+   We should refer to that. We'll be content
+   That he is here again, with all his faults,
+   The faults and wildness of his gentle heart--
+   That he is here again. Oh, Nathan must
+   Give him the maid. What think you?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                          What, to him?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Ay! for what claim has Nathan to the girl
+   If he is not her father? He, who saved
+   Her life, may properly assume the rights
+   Of him who gave existence to the maid.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Then might not Saladin lay claim to her,
+   Withdrawing her from the unrightful owner?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   There is no need of that.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                             No actual need,
+   But female curiosity suggests
+   That counsel to me. There are certain men
+   Of whom I feel impatient till I know
+   What maidens they can love.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                   Well send for her.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Brother, may I do that?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                           But hurt not Nathan.
+   He must not think that we, by violence,
+   Would separate them.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                              Fear it not.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                           Farewell!
+   I must find out where this Al-Hafi is.
+
+
+                               Scene VI.
+
+_The hall in_ Nathan's _house, looking towards the palm-trees, as in
+the first Act. Part of the merchandise and treasures unpacked and
+displayed_.
+
+                           Nathan _and_ Daja.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   O, how magnificent are all these things!
+   How rich! they're such as none but you could give.
+   Where was this silver stuff with sprigs of gold
+   Woven? What might it cost? 'Tis what I call
+   A wedding garment. Is there any queen
+   Could wish aught richer?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Why a wedding robe?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   In buying it, you never thought of that.
+   But, Nathan, it must be so--it must, indeed--
+   'Twas made for that. See, here, the pure white ground,
+   Emblem of innocence; that branching gold,
+   Covering the virgin white on every side,
+   Emblem of wealth. Say, is it not divine?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why all this ingenuity of speech?
+   Over whose wedding dress would you display
+   This learning? Have you found a lover, Daja?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   What, I?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                  Who, then?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                              I, gracious Heaven?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                              Who, then?
+   Whose wedding garment would you speak of, Daja?
+   All this is yours, 'tis meant for no one else.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   What, mine! for me! I thought it was for Recha.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No, what I bought for her is elsewhere packed;
+   'Tis in another bale. But, come, away
+   With all this rubbish.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                           Nathan, tempt me not,
+   For were these things the very costliest
+   In all the world, I'll touch not one of them
+   Till you have sworn to seize a happy chance
+   Which Heaven ne'er offers twice.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                          What happy chance?
+   What must I seize?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                     Nathan, feign not such ignorance.
+   But, in one word--the Templar loves your Recha--
+   Give her to him, and then your sin, which I
+   Can hide no longer, will for ever cease.
+   The maid will then once more resume her place
+   Amongst the Christians, will again become
+   What she was born to, and what once she was;
+   And you, whom we can never thank enough
+   For all your goodness, will not then have heaped
+   More burning coals of fire upon your head.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Still harping on the same old string again,
+   New tuned, but neither to accord nor hold.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   How so?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+               The Templar pleases me; 'tis true
+   I'd rather he, than any one, had Recha.
+   But patience.
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                  Patience! and, say, is not that
+   The string you always harp on?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                  Still, have patience
+   But for a few days longer. Ha! who comes?
+   A friar! Go ask him what his errand is.
+
+                            DAJA (_going_).
+
+   What can he want?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Give--give before he begs.
+   (Oh, that I knew how I could sound the Knight
+   Without betraying what my motive is!
+   For should I tell it, and my thoughts prove false,
+   I shall have staked the father's rights in vain.)
+   What is the matter?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                    He would speak with you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Let him approach. Leave us together, Daja.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                        Nathan _and the_ Friar.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+    (_Aside_. Gladly I would continue Recha's father!
+   And can I not be so, though I may cease
+   To bear the name? To her--at least to her--
+   I should be father still, if she but knew
+   How willingly I bore that title once.)
+   What can I do to serve you, pious brother?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Not much; and yet it gives me pleasure, Nathan,
+   To see at least that you are still so well.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   You know me, then, it seems?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                 Who knows you not?
+   You have impressed your name on many a hand--
+   It has been stamped on mine these many years.
+
+                   NATHAN (_feeling for his purse_).
+
+   Come, brother, come; here's to refresh it.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                                     Thanks.
+   That would be robbing poorer men. I will
+   Take nothing; but I beg of you, permit
+   That I refresh your memory with my name;
+   For I can boast of having formerly
+   Placed something in your hand you should not scorn.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Excuse me--I'm ashamed--what was it? Say,
+   And then take for atonement sevenfold
+   The value of the thing.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                         Well, first of all,
+   Hear how this very day has brought to mind
+   The pledge I gave you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       What! a pledge to me?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Not long ago I led a hermit's life
+   On Quarantana, near to Jericho.
+   Some Arab thieves came and attacked my cell;
+   They robbed my oratory, forcing me
+   To follow them. But fortune favoured me.
+   I fled, came hither to the Patriarch,
+   And sought from him another calm retreat,
+   Where I might serve my God in solitude
+   Till death should bless me.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Ah! I am on thorns.
+   Be quick! What pledge did you entrust to me?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Yes, Nathan, presently. The Patriarch
+   Has promised I shall have a hermitage
+   On Tabor, when 'tis vacant; and meanwhile
+   Employs me in this convent as a brother,
+   And here I am at present. But I pine
+   For Tabor fifty times a day; for here
+   He makes me toil at work which I detest.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Be speedy, I beseech you.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                Well, it chanced
+   Some one has whispered in his ear to-day
+   That a Jew lives hard by, who educates
+   A Christian as his daughter.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 How?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                                  Nay, hear.
+   He has commissioned me, if possible,
+   To find this Jew out for him; and he raves
+   Loudly and bitterly against the crime,
+   Which he pronounces as the actual sin
+   Against the Holy Ghost--that is, the sin
+   The greatest, which a sinner can commit.
+   But luckily we can't exactly tell
+   Its nature. But my conscience all at once
+   Was roused, and it occurred to me that I
+   Had once, perhaps, been guilty of this sin.
+   Do you remember, eighteen years ago,
+   When a knight's squire committed to your hands
+   A female infant but a few weeks old?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What say you? Well, in fact there was----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                                  Ay, look--
+   Look well at me--for I'm that squire: 'twas I.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What! you?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                   And he from whom I brought the child
+   Was, if I recollect the matter right,
+   A Lord of Filneck--Wolf von Filneck.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                          Right.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Because the mother died not long before;
+   And he, the father, was obliged to fly
+   To Gaza suddenly. The helpless child
+   Could not accompany him, and therefore he
+   Committed it to you: that was my task.
+   I found you out at Daran.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Right, quite right.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   It were no wonder had my memory
+   Deceived me. I have served so many lords.
+   The one who fled was not my master long,
+   He fell at Askalon. His heart was kind.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, yes, and I have much to thank him for.
+   Not once, but many times he saved my life.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   O, glorious! then the greater joy for you
+   To educate his daughter.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              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 God.
+
+                                 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 God!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                                   You came.
+   Three nights in dust and ashes I had lain
+   Before my God 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.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   But by degrees returning reason came,
+   And spoke with gentle accent: "God is just!
+   And this was His decree. Now exercise
+   The lesson thou so long hast understood,
+   And which is surely not more difficult
+   To exercise than well to understand."
+   I rose and cried to God, "I will, I will!
+   Do Thou but aid my purpose." And, behold,
+   Just at that moment you dismounted. You
+   Gave me the child enfolded in your robe.
+   The words we spoke occur not to me now.
+   This much I recollect: I took the child;
+   I bore it to my bed; I kissed its cheek;
+   I flung myself upon my knees, and sobbed,
+   "My God, Thou hast restored me one of seven!"
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Nathan, you are a Christian. Yes, I swear
+   You are a Christian--better never lived.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Indeed! the very thing that makes me seem
+   Christian to you, makes you a Jew to me.
+   But let us not distress each other thus,
+   'Tis time to act, and though a sevenfold love
+   Had bound me to this strange, this lovely maid,
+   Though the mere thought distracts me, that in her
+   I lose my seven dear sons a second time,
+   If Providence require her at my hands
+   I'm ready to obey.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                       'Tis well! And thus
+   I thought to counsel you; but there's no need:
+   Your own good genius has forestalled my words.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   The first chance claimant must not tear her hence.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Most surely not.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    And he who has no claim
+   Stronger than mine--at least he ought to have
+   Those prior claims which----
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                    Certainly,
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                           Those claims
+   Which are derived from nature and from blood.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   In my opinion, yes.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Then name the man
+   As brother, or as uncle, bound to her,
+   I'll not withhold her from him; she was made
+   To be the ornament of any house,
+   The pride of any faith. I hope you know
+   More of your master and his creed than I.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   On that point, Nathan, I'm but ill informed,
+   I have already told you that I spent
+   Only some moments with him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 Can you tell
+   The mother's name, at least? She was, I think,
+   A Stauffen?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                  Possibly; nay, more--you're right.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Conrad of Stauffen was her brother's name.
+   He was a Templar.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                        Yes, I think he was:
+   But hold, I have a book that was my lord's.
+   I drew it from his bosom when he lay
+   Dead, and we buried him at Askalon.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Well!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+            There are prayers in it; 'tis what we call
+   A breviary. This, thought I, yet may serve
+   Some Christian man--not me, forsooth--for I
+   Can't read a word.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        No matter--to the point.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The pages of this book are written all
+   In his own hand, and, as I'm told, contain
+   All that's important touching him and her.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Go, run and fetch the book: 'tis fortunate!
+   I'll pay you for it with its weight in gold.
+   And with a thousand thanks besides. Go! run!
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   I go--but what he wrote is Arabic.               (_Exit_)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   No matter, fetch it. What, if from this book
+   I can find means to keep this precious girl,
+   And win, to boot, a son-in-law like him!
+   I hardly hope--fate must decide. But who
+   Has told the Patriarch this? I must not fail
+   To ascertain. It surely was not Daja?
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+                           Daja _and_ Nathan.
+
+                   DAJA (_rushing in in agitation_).
+
+   Only think, Nathan!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              What?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                     Well--only think:
+    The child was frightened when the message came!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   From whom? The Patriarch?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+                                        The Sultan's sister,
+   The Princess Sittah--
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Not the Patriarch?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   No, Sittah. Can't you hear? The Princess sends,
+   And wishes Recha to be brought to her.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Wishes for Recha! Sittah wishes thus?
+   'Tis Sittah, then--and not the Patriarch?
+
+                                  DAJA.
+
+   Why do you speak of him?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                              Have you not heard
+   Some tidings of him lately? Have you seen
+   Nothing of him, and whispered nothing to him?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   How could I so?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Where are the messengers?
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   They stand without.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          I'll speak to them myself--
+   'Tis prudent; I shall see if nothing lurks
+   Behind this message, from the Patriarch.        (_Exit_.)
+
+                                 DAJA.
+
+   Well, I have other fears. The only child,
+   As they suppose, of such a wealthy Jew,
+   Would for a Mussulman be no bad thing.
+   I'll wager that the Templar loses her,
+   Unless I risk a second step, and state
+   Plainly to Recha who she is. So, courage!
+   And to do this I must at once employ
+   The first brief moments when we are alone.
+   Chance serves: she waits for me, and on the way
+   An earnest hint will never prove amiss.
+   So now or never. All will soon be well. (_Follows Nathan_.)
+
+
+
+
+                                 ACT V.
+
+
+     Scene I.--_The room in_ Saladin's _Palace. The treasure still
+                               piled up_.
+
+                  (Saladin, _and several Mamelukes_.)
+
+                       SALADIN (_as he enters_).
+
+   There lies the gold--and no one yet has seen
+   The Dervise. He will probably be found
+   Over the chess-board. Play can often make
+   A man forget himself. Then why not me?
+   But patience. What's the matter?
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                                      Oh, good news!
+   Joy, Sultan! joy. The Cairo caravan
+   Is safe arrived, and from the Nile it brings
+   The seven years' tribute.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                            Bravo, Ibrahim!
+   You always were a welcome messenger,
+   And now at length--accept my heartfelt thanks
+   For the good tidings.
+
+                          1ST MAMELUKE (_waiting_).
+
+                                   (Let me have them, then!)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What are you waiting for? Go.
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                                                Nothing more
+   For my good news?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              What further?
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                                          Messengers
+   Of good are paid. Am I to be the first
+   Whom Saladin has learnt to pay with words?
+   The first to whom he proves ungenerous?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Go, take a purse.
+
+                             1ST MAMELUKE.
+
+                           No, no--not now. Not if
+   You'd give them all to me.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                            All? Hold, young man!
+   Come hither. Take these purses--take these two.
+   What, going? And shall I be conquered thus
+   In generosity? for surely 'tis
+   More difficult for this man to refuse
+   Than for the Sultan to bestow. Then, here
+   Here, Ibrahim! Shall I be tempted, just
+   Before my death, to be a different man?
+   Shall Saladin not die like Saladin?
+   Then wherefore has he lived like Saladin?
+
+                      (_Enter a second Mameluke_.)
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   Hail, Sultan!
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                    If you come and bring the news----
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   That the Egyptian convoy is arrived.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   I know it.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+                  Then I come too late.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                      Too late?
+   Wherefore too late? There, for your tidings take
+   A purse or two.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   Say three.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                     You reckon well;
+   But take them.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+                      A third messenger will come
+   Ere long, if he be able.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              Wherefore so?
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+   He may perhaps, ere this, have brok'n his neck.
+   We three, when we had heard of the approach
+   Of the rich caravan, mounted our steeds,
+   And galloped hitherward. The foremost fell,
+   Then I was first, and I continued so
+   Into the town; but that sly fellow there,
+   Who knew the streets----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                          But where is he who fell?
+
+   Go seek him out.
+
+                             2ND MAMELUKE.
+
+                      That I will quickly do,
+   And if he lives, one half of this is his.       (_Exit_.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Oh, what a noble fellow! who can boast
+   Such Mamelukes as these? And may I not,
+   Without conceit, imagine that my life
+   Has helped to make them so? Avaunt the thought!
+   That I should ever teach them otherwise.
+
+                             3RD MAMELUKE.
+
+   Sultan!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  Are you the man who fell?
+
+                             3RD MAMELUKE.
+
+                                         No, Sire.
+   I have to tell you that the Emir Mansor,
+   Who led the caravan, is just arrived.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Then bring him quickly.--There he is already.
+
+
+                               Scene II.
+
+                 _The Emir_ Mansor _and_ Saladin.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Emir, you're welcome! What has happened to you,
+   Mansor? we have expected you for long.
+
+                                MANSOR.
+
+   This letter will explain how, in Thebais,
+   Some discontents required the sabred hand
+   Of Abulkassen. But, since then, our march
+   Has been pressed forward.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                               I believe it all.
+   But take, good Mansor--take, without delay,
+   Another escort if you will proceed,
+   And take the treasure on to Lebanon:
+   The greater part is destined for my father.
+
+                                MANSOR.
+
+   Most willingly.
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     And let your escort be
+   A strong and trusty one, for Lebanon
+   Is far from quiet, and the Templars there
+   Are on the stir again; be cautious, then
+   Come, I must see your troop, and order all.
+   (_To a slave_.) Say I shall presently return to Sittah.
+
+
+                               Scene III.
+
+           (_The palm-trees before_ Nathan's _house_.)
+
+              _The_ Templar, _walking up and down_.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Into this house I never enter more:
+   He'll come to me at last. Yet, formerly,
+   They used to watch for me with longing eyes;
+   And now----The time may come he'll send to beg,
+   Most civilly, that I will get me hence,
+   And not pace up and down before his door!
+   No matter: though I feel a little hurt.
+   I know not what has thus embittered me:
+   He answered yes, and has refused me naught,
+   So far, and Saladin has pledged himself
+   To bring him round. Say, does the Christian live
+   Deeper in me than the Jew lurks in him?
+   Ah! who can truly estimate himself?
+   How comes it else that I should grudge him so
+   The trifling booty, which he took such pains
+   To rob the Christians of? No trifling theft!
+   No less than such a creature! And to whom
+   Does she belong? Oh, surely not to him,
+   The thoughtless slave, who floated the mere block
+   On to life's barren strand, then disappeared.
+   Rather to him, the artist, whose fine soul
+   Has from the block moulded this godlike form,
+   And graved it there. And yet in spite of him,
+   The Christian, who begot this beauteous maid,
+   Recha's true father must be still the Jew.
+   Were I to fancy her a Christian now,
+   Bereft of all the Jew has given to her--
+   Which only such a Jew could have bestowed--
+   Speak out, my heart--where would have been her charm'
+   It had been nothing--little; then her smile
+   Had been a pretty twisting of the mouth
+   And that which caused it were unworthy deemed
+   Of the enchantment blooming on her lips.
+   No: not her very smile! I've seen sweet smiles
+   Squandered on pride, on foppery, on lies,
+   On flatterers, on wicked wooers spent:
+   And did they charm me then? Did they awake
+   The wish to flutter out existence in
+   Their sunshine? And I'm angry now with him
+   Who gave this higher value to the maid?
+   And wherefore so? Do I deserve the taunt
+   With which I was dismissed by Saladin?
+   'Twas bad enough he should think thus of me.
+   How wicked, how contemptible, alas!
+   I must have seemed to him! And for a girl!
+   Conrad, this will not do. Avaunt such thoughts!
+   And what if Daja has been chattering
+   Of things not easy to be proved? But see,
+   He comes, engaged in converse; and with whom?
+   With him, the Friar. Then he knows all: perhaps
+   He has betrayed him to the Patriarch.
+   O Conrad! what vile mischief hast thou done!
+   O! that one spark of love, that wayward passion,
+   Should so inflame the brain! But, quick! resolve;
+   What's to be done? Stay, step aside awhile;
+   Perhaps the Friar will leave him. Let us see.
+
+
+                               Scene IV.
+
+                        Nathan _and the_ Friar.
+
+                      NATHAN (_approaching him_).
+
+   Good brother, once more, thanks.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                            The same to you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why thanks from you? Because I'm wayward, and
+   Would force upon you what you cannot use?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   The book you have did not belong to me.
+   It is the maid's, is all her property,
+   Her only patrimony--save yourself.
+   God grant you ne'er have reason to repent
+   Of what you've done for her!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Impossible!
+   That cannot be. Fear not.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                               Alas! alas!
+   These Patriarchs and Templars----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Cannot work
+   Such evil as to force me to repent.
+   But are you sure it is a Templar who
+   Urges the Patriarch?
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                            It is none else;
+   A Templar talked with him just now, and all
+   I hear confirms the rumour.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               But there is
+   Only one Templar in Jerusalem,
+   And him I know. He is a friend of mine,
+   A noble, open-hearted youth.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+                                  The same.
+   But what one is at heart, and what one must
+   Appear in active life, are not the same.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Alas! 'tis true. And so let every one
+   Act as he will, and do his best, or worst.
+   With your book, brother, I defy them all!
+   I'm going straightway with it to the Sultan.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Then God be with you! Here I take my leave.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What! without seeing her? But come again,
+   Come soon--come often. If the Patriarch
+   To-day learns nothing. Well! no matter now!
+   Tell him the whole to-day, or when you will.
+
+                                 FRIAR.
+
+   Not I. Farewell!                                (_Exit_.)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Do not forget us, brother!
+   O God! I could sink down upon my knees,
+   Here on this spot! Behold, the knotted skein
+   Which has so often troubled me, at last
+   Untangles of itself. I feel at ease,
+   Since henceforth nothing in this world remains
+   That I need hide. Henceforth, I am as free
+   Before mankind, as in the sight of God.
+   Who only does not need to judge us men
+   By deeds, which oftentimes are not our own.
+
+
+                                Scene V.
+
+                       Nathan _and the_ Templar.
+
+          (_The latter advancing towards him from the side_.)
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Hold, Nathan, hold! Take me along with you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who calls? You, Templar! Where can you have been
+   That you could not be met with at the Sultan's?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   We missed each other; do not be displeased.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Not I, but Saladin.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              You had just gone.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Oh, then, you spoke with him. I'm satisfied.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Yes; but he wants to talk with us together.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   So much the better. Come with me; I go
+   Direct to him.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                   Say, Nathan, may I ask
+   Who left you even now?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                            What! don't you know?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Was it that worthy fellow, the good friar,
+   Whom the old Patriarch employs at will
+   To work his ends?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       The same--the very same.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   'Tis a prime hit to make simplicity
+   The workman of deceit.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Yes, if he use
+   The fool, and not the pious man.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       This last
+   The Patriarch ne'er trusts.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                 Depend on this,
+   That man will not assist the Patriarch
+   To a wicked end.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Well, so I think myself.
+   But has he told you aught of me?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                       Of you?
+   He scarcely knows your name.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                     That's like enough.
+
+                                 NATHAN.
+
+   He spoke to me about a Templar, who----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Who what?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+               But then he never mentioned you.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Who knows? Come tell me, Nathan, all he said.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who has accused me to the Patriarch?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Accused you! With his leave, that is untrue.
+   No! Hear me, Nathan! I am not the man
+   E'er to deny my actions. What I've done
+   I've done--and there's an end. Nor am I one
+   Who would maintain that all I've done is right.
+   But should one fault condemn me? Am I not
+   Resolved on better deeds for time to come?
+   And who is ignorant how much the man
+   Who wills it may improve? Then hear me, Nathan:
+   I am the Templar talked of by the Friar,
+   Who has accused--you know what maddened me,
+   What set my blood on fire within my veins--
+   Fool that I was! I had almost resolved
+   To fling myself both soul and body, straight
+   Into your arms. But how was I received?
+   How did you meet me, Nathan? Cold--or worse.
+   Lukewarm--far worse than cold. With cautious words,
+   Well weighed and measured, Nathan, you took care
+   To put me off, and with calm questions, asked
+   About my parentage, and God knows what,
+   You sought to meet my suit. I cannot now
+   Dwell on it and be patient. Hear me further.
+   While in this ferment, Daja suddenly
+   Drew near to me and whispered in my ear
+   A secret which cleared up the mystery.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What was it?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                  Hear me to the end. I thought
+   The treasure you had from the Christians stolen,
+   You would not promptly to a Christian yield;
+   And so the project struck me, with good speed,
+   To bring you to extremities.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                             Good speed?
+   Good, good? pray where's the good!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   But hear me out.
+   I own my error; you are free from guilt;
+   That prating Daja knows not what she says.
+   She's hostile to you, and she seeks to twine
+   A dangerous snare around you. Be it so.
+   I'm but a crazed enthusiast, doubly mad,
+   Aiming at far too much, or much too little.
+   That may be also true. Forgive me, Nathan.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you conceive thus of me----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                               Well, in short.
+   I saw the Patriarch--but named you not.
+   'Twas false to say so, for I only told
+   The case in general terms, to sound his mind.
+   And that I also might have left undone,
+   For knew I not the Patriarch to be
+   An arrant, subtle knave? And might I not
+   As well have told you all the case at first?
+   Or was it right in me to risk the loss
+   Of such a father to the hapless maid?
+   But what has happened now? The Patriarch,
+   Ever consistent in his villainy,
+   Has all at once restored me to myself.
+   For hear me, Nathan, hear me! Were he now
+   To learn your name, what more could then occur?
+   He cannot seize the maid, if she belong
+   To some one else, and not to you alone.
+   'Tis from your house alone she can be dragged
+   Into a convent: grant her, then, I pray,
+   Grant her to me! Then come the Patriarch!
+   He'll hardly dare to take my wife from me.
+   Oh! give her to me. Be she yours or not--
+   Your daughter--Christian--Jewess--'tis all one--
+   Or be she nothing--I will ne'er inquire,
+   Or in my lifetime ask you what she is,
+   'Tis all alike to me.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Do you then think
+   That to conceal the truth I am compelled?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   No matter.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                I have ne'er denied the truth
+   To you, or any one whom it concerned
+   To know the fact, that she's of Christian birth,
+   And that the maid is my adopted child.
+   Why I have not informed her of the truth,
+   I need explain to none but to herself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Nathan; no need of that, it were not well
+   That she should see you in a different light;
+   Then spare her the discovery. As yet
+   She's yours alone--no other's--to bestow.
+   Then grant her to me, Nathan, I implore--
+   Grant her to me: I only, I alone,
+   Can rescue her a second time--and will.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Yes, you could once have saved her, but alas!
+   'Tis now too late.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                        Too late! ah! say not so.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Thanks to the Patriarch.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                            Why, thanks to him?
+   Why should we thank the Patriarch! For what?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   That now we know her relatives, and know
+   Into whose hands Recha may be restored.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Let him give thanks who shall have better cause
+   To thank him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    But you must receive her now
+   From other hands than mine.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                   Alas, poor maid!
+   O hapless Recha! what has chanced to thee,
+   That what to other orphans had appeared
+   A real blessing, is to thee a curse!
+   But, Nathan, where are these new relatives?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Where are they?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       Ay, both where and who are they?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Her brother is discovered, and to him
+   You must address yourself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  Her brother! Ha!
+   And what is he--a soldier or a priest?
+   Tell me at once what I've to hope from him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   I hear he's neither--or he's both. As yet
+   I do not know him thoroughly.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                    What more?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He is a gallant fellow, and with him
+   Recha may be content.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                          But he's a Christian.
+   At times I know not what to make of you.
+   Take it not ill, good Nathan, that I ask,
+   Must she not henceforth play the Christian,
+   Associate with Christians, and at last
+   Become the character she long has played?
+   Will not the tares at length grow up and choke
+   The pure wheat you have sown? And does not that
+   Affect you? Yet you say she'll be content
+   When with her brother.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                               As I think and hope.
+   For should she e'er have need of anything,
+   Has she not you and me?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                           What can she need
+   When with her brother. Gladly he'll provide
+   His dear new sister with a thousand robes,
+   With dainties, and with toys and finery.
+   And what could any sister wish for more--
+   Unless, perhaps, a husband? And him too,
+   Him too the brother, in due time, will find;
+   And the more Christian he, the better!--Nathan,
+   How sad to think the angel you have formed,
+   Should now be marred by others!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                         Be assured
+   He'll always prove deserving of our love.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Nay speak not so; of my love, speak not so,
+   For it can brook no loss, however small,
+   Not e'en a name. But, hold! Has she as yet
+   Any suspicion of these late events?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   'Tis possible, and yet I know not how.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   It matters not; she must, in either case,
+   First learn from me what fate is threat'ning her.
+   My purpose not to speak with her again,
+   And ne'er to see her more, till I should call
+   Your Recha mine, is gone. I take my leave.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Nay, whither would you go?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  At once to her,
+   To learn if she be bold enough at heart,
+   To fix upon the only course that now
+   Is worthy of her.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                      Name it.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                  It is this:
+   That henceforth she should never care to know
+   Aught of her brother or of you.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    What more?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   To follow me--even if it were her fate
+   To wed a Mussulman.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                          Stay, Templar, stay!
+   You will not find her. She's with Sittah now,
+   The Sultan's sister.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                         Wherefore, and since when?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you desire to see her brother, come,
+   Follow me straight.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                          Her brother, say you? Whose?
+   Recha's, or Sittah's?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Both--ay, both, perhaps.
+   But come this way, I pray you. Come with me.
+                           (Nathan _leads the_ Templar _away_.)
+
+
+                      Scene VI.--Sittah's _harem_.
+
+             Sittah _and_ Recha _engaged in conversation_.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   How I am pleased with you, sweet girl. But, come,
+   Shake off these fears, and be no more alarmed,
+   Be happy, cheerful. Let me hear you talk.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Princess!
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Nay, child, not princess! Call me friend,
+   Or Sittah--or your sister--or dear mother,
+   For I might well be so to you--so good,
+   So prudent, and so young! How much you know,
+   How much you must have read!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       Read, Sittah! now
+   You're mocking me, for I can scarcely read.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Scarce read, you young deceiver!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                      Yes, perhaps
+   My father's hand; I thought you spoke of books.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   And so I did--of books.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           They puzzle me
+   To read.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+            Indeed!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                      I speak, in veriest truth.
+   My father hates book-learning, which he says,
+   Makes an impression only on the brain
+   With lifeless letters.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                          Well, he's right in that.
+   And so the greater part of what you know----
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   I've learnt from his own mouth, and I can tell
+   The when, the where, and why he taught it me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   So it clings closer, and the soul drinks in
+   The full instruction.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           Yes, and Sittah, too,
+   Has not read much.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                        How so? I am not vain
+   Of having read, and yet why say you so?
+   Speak boldly. Tell the reason.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                       She's so plain--
+   So free from artifice--so like herself.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+           And my father says 'tis rarely books
+   Work that effect.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                    Oh, what a man he is,
+   Dear Recha!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                 Is he not?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                           He never fails
+   To hit the mark.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                    Yes, yes; and yet this father----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   What ails you, love?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        This father----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                      Oh my God!
+   You're weeping.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+                     And this father--it must forth--
+   My heart wants room, wants room----
+                  (_Throws herself in tears at_ Sittah's _feet_.)
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                       What ails you, Recha?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Yes, I must lose this father!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                             Lose him--never!
+   Why so? Be calm. Courage! it must not be.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Your offer to be friend and sister to me
+   Will now not be in vain.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 Yes, I am both.
+   Arise, arise, or I must call for help.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   O pardon! I forget, through agony,
+   With whom I speak. Tears, sobbing, and despair
+   Are naught with Sittah. Reason, calm and cool,
+   Is over her alone omnipotent.
+   No other argument avails with her.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well, then?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                My friend and sister, suffer not
+   Another father to be forced on me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Another father to be forced on you!
+   Who can do that, or wish to do it, love?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Who but my good, my evil genius, Daja?
+   She can both wish it and perform the deed.
+   You do not know this good, this evil Daja.
+   May God forgive her, and reward her, too,
+   For she has done me good and evil, both.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Evil? Then she has little goodness left.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Oh, she has much.
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                      Who is she?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                     Who? a Christian,
+   Who cared for me in childhood's early years.
+   You cannot know how little she allowed
+   That I should miss a mother's tender cares--
+   May God reward her for it!--but she has
+   Worried and tortured me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                 Wherefore, and how?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   Poor woman, she's a Christian, and from love
+   Has tortured me: a warm enthusiast,
+   Who thinks she only knows the real road
+   That leads to God.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                       I understand you now.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   And one of those who feel in duty bound
+   To point it out to every one who strays
+   From the plain path, to lead, to drag them in.
+   And who can censure them? for if the road
+   They travel is the only one that's safe,
+   They cannot, without pain, behold their friends
+   Pursue a path that lead to endless woe,
+   Else, at the self-same time, 'twere possible
+   To love and hate another. Nor does this
+   Alone compel me to complain aloud.
+   Her groans, her prayers, her warnings, and her threats
+   I could have borne much longer willingly.
+   They always called up good and wholesome thoughts.
+   Who is not flattered to be held so dear,
+   And precious by another, that the thought
+   Of parting pierces him with lasting pain?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   This is most true.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                      And yet this goes too far,
+   And I have nothing to oppose to it--
+   Patience, reflection, nothing.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                   How? to what?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   To what she has disclosed to me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                      Say, when?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   'Tis scarce an instant. Coming hither
+   We passed a Christian temple on our way;
+   She all at once stood still, seemed inly moved,
+   Raised her moist eyes to heaven, then looked on me.
+   "Come," she exclaimed at length, "come straight on here,
+   Through this old fane." She leads, I follow her.
+   My eyes with horror overrun the dim
+   And tottering ruin: all at once she stops
+   By a low ruined altar's sunken steps.
+   O, how I felt, when there, with streaming eyes
+   And wringing hands, down at my feet she fell!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Good child!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+               And, by the Holy Virgin, who had heard
+   So many suppliants' prayers, and had performed
+   Full many a wonder there, she begged, implored
+   With looks of heart-felt sympathy and love,
+   That I would now take pity on myself,
+   And pardon her for daring to unfold
+   The nature of the Church's claims on me.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   I guessed as much.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                        I'm born of Christian blood,
+   Have been baptised, and am not Nathan's child!
+   Nathan is not my father! God, O God!
+   He's not my father, Sittah! Now, behold,
+   I'm once more prostrate at your feet.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                        Arise!
+   Recha, arise! behold, my brother comes.
+
+
+                               Scene VII.
+
+                     Saladin, Sittah, _and_ Recha.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   What is the matter, Sittah?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                                    She has swooned.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Who is she?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                  Don't you know?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    'Tis Nathan's child.
+   What ails her?
+                                SITTAH.
+
+                    Look up, Recha! 'tis the Sultan.
+
+                 RECHA (_crawling to Saladin's feet_).
+
+   No, I'll not rise--not rise nor even look
+   Upon the Sultan's countenance, nor wonder
+   At the bright lustre of unchanging truth
+   And goodness on his brow and in his eye,
+   Before----
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+          Rise, rise!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                           Before he promises----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Come, come! I promise, whatsoe'er your prayer.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   'Tis only this--to leave my father to me,
+   And me to him. As yet I cannot tell
+   Who seeks to be my father: who it is
+   Can harbour such a wish I'll ne'er inquire.
+   Does blood alone make fathers--blood alone?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Who can have been so cruel as to raise
+   This dire suspicion in my Recha's breast?
+   Say, is it proved? beyond all doubt made clear?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   'Tis proved, for Daja had it from my nurse,
+   Whose dying lips entrusted it to her.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Dying! she raved. And even were it true,
+   A father is not made by blood alone;
+   Scarcely the father of a savage beast--
+   Blood only gives the right to earn the name.
+   Then fear no more, but hear me. If there be
+   Two fathers who contend for thee, leave both,
+   And claim a third! O! take me for your father!
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Oh, do so, Recha, do so!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                            I will be
+   A good, kind father to you. But, in truth
+   A better thought occurs. Why should you need
+   Two fathers? They are mortal, and must die.
+   'Twere better, Recha, to look out betimes
+   For one to start with you on equal terms,
+   And stake his life for thine. You understand?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   You make her blush!
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                          Why that was half my scheme.
+   Blushing becomes plain features, and will make
+   A beauteous cheek more beauteous. My commands
+   Are giv'n to bring your father, Nathan, here.
+   Another comes as well. You'll guess his name?
+   Hither they come! Will you allow it, Sittah?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Brother!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+               And when he comes, maid, you must blush
+   To crimson.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                Sittah! wherefore should I blush?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   You young dissembler, you will else grow pale!
+   But as thou wilt and canst. (_A female slave enters, and approaches_
+          Sittah.) What, here so soon?
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Well, let them enter. Brother, here they are!
+
+
+                              Scene VIII.
+
+             Nathan, _the_ Templar, _and the others_.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Welcome, my dear good friends! Nathan, to you
+   I must first mention, you may send and fetch
+   Your moneys when you will.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                                 Sultan----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                                      And now
+   I'm at your service.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                         Sultan----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                    For my gold
+   Is now arrived; the caravan is safe:
+   These many years I have not been so rich.
+   Now, tell me what you wish for, to achieve
+   Some splendid speculation? You in trade,
+   Like us, have never too much ready cash.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Why speak about this trifle first? I see
+   An eye in tears (_going towards_ Recha). My Recha, you
+        have wept.
+   What have you lost? Are you not still my child?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   My father!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                That's enough! We're understood
+   By one another! But look up--be calm,
+   Be cheerful! If your heart is still your own,
+   And if no threatened loss disturb your breast,
+   Your father is not lost to you!
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+                                    None, none!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   None! Then I'm much deceived. What we don't fear
+   To lose, we ne'er have loved, and ne'er have wished
+   To be possessed of. But 'tis well, 'tis well!
+   Nathan, this changes all! At your command,
+   We come here, Sultan. You have been misled
+   By me, and I will trouble you no more!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Rash, headlong youth! Must every temper yield
+   To yours!--and must we all thus guess your mind?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   But, Sultan, you have heard and seen it all.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Well, truly, it was awkward to be thus
+   Uncertain of your cause!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              I know my fate.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Whoe'er presumes upon a service done,
+   Cancels the benefit. What you have saved
+   Is, therefore, not your own. Or else the thief,
+   Urged by mere avarice through flaming halls,
+   Were like yourself a hero. (_Advancing towards_ Recha _to
+        lead her to the_ Templar.) Come, sweet maid!
+   Be not reserved towards him. Had he been so,
+   Were he less warm, less proud, he had held back,
+   And had not saved you. Weigh the former deed
+   Against the latter, and you'll make him blush!
+   Do what he should have done! confess your love!
+   Make him your offer! and if he refuse,
+   Or e'er forget how infinitely more
+   You do for him than he has done for you--
+   For what, in fact, have been his services,
+   Save soiling his complexion? a mere sport--
+   Else has he nothing of my Assad in him,
+   But only wears his mask. Come, lovely maid.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   Go, dearest, go! this step is not enough
+   For gratitude; it is too little.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                     Hold!
+   Hold, Saladin! hold, Sittah!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                            What would you?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   It is the duty of another now
+   To speak.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        Who questions that? Beyond all doubt
+   A foster--father has a right to vote
+   First, if you will. You see I know the whole.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Not quite. I speak not, Sultan, of myself.
+   There is another and a different man
+   Whom I must first confer with, Saladin.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   And who is he?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    Her brother.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                  Recha's brother?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   E'en so.
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+             My brother! Have I then a brother?
+
+      TEMPLAR (_starting from his silent and sullen inattention_).
+
+   Where is this brother? Not yet here! 'Twas here
+   I was to meet him.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                        Patience yet awhile.
+
+                          TEMPLAR (_bitterly_).
+
+   He has imposed a father on the girl;
+   He'll find a brother for her now!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                                 Indeed,
+   That much was wanting. But this mean rebuke,
+   Christian, had ne'er escaped my Assad's lips.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Forgive him: I forgive him readily.
+   Who knows what in his youth and in his place
+   We might ourselves have thought? (_Approaching him in
+        a very friendly manner_) Suspicion, knight,
+   Follows upon reserve. Had you at first
+   Vouchsafed to me your real name----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                       How! what!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   You are no Stauffen.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                          Tell me who I am.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Conrad of Stauffen, not.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+                              Then what's my name?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Leo of Filneck.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                              How?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                    You start!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                                With reason.
+   But who says this?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                    I, who can tell you more.
+   Meanwhile, observe, I tax you not with falsehood.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Indeed!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+            It may be both names fit you well.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I think so. (_Aside_) God inspired him with that thought.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Your mother was a Stauffen: and her brother
+   (The uncle to whose care you were consigned,
+   When, by the rigour of the climate chased,
+   Your parents quitted Germany, to seek
+   This land once more) was Conrad. He, perhaps,
+   Adopted you as his own son and heir.
+   Is it long since you travelled hither with him?
+   Does he still live?
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                       What shall I answer him?
+   He speaks the truth. Nathan, 'tis so indeed;
+   But he himself is dead. I journeyed here,
+   With the last troops of knights, to reinforce
+   Our order. But inform me how this tale
+   Concerns your Recha's brother.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   Well, your father----
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   What! did you know him too?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                                   He was my friend.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   Your friend! Oh, Nathan, is it possible?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Oluf of Filneck did he style himself;
+   But he was not a German.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                             You know that?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He had espoused a German, and he lived
+   For some, time with your mother there.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                                           No more
+   Of this, I beg. But what of Recha's brother?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   It is yourself.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                     What, I? am I her brother?
+
+                                 RECHA.
+
+   He, my brother?
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                     Are they so near akin?
+
+                   RECHA (_approaching the_ Templar).
+
+   My brother!
+
+                       TEMPLAR (_stepping back_).
+
+                I, your brother?
+
+               RECHA (_stopping and turning to Nathan_).
+
+                                  No, in truth,
+   It cannot be. His heart makes no response.
+   O God! we are deceivers.
+
+                      SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
+
+                                Say you so?
+   Is that your thought? All is deceit in you:
+   The voice, the gesture, and the countenance,
+   Nothing of these is yours. How! will you not
+   Acknowledge such a sister? Then begone!
+
+                  TEMPLAR (_approaching him humbly_).
+
+   Oh! do not misinterpret my surprise.
+   Sultan, you never saw your Assad's heart
+   At any time like this. Then do not err,
+   Mistake not him and me. (_Turning to_ Nathan.) You give
+        me much,
+   Nathan, and also you take much away,
+   And yet you give me more than you withdraw--
+   Ay, infinitely more. My sister, sister! (_embraces_ Recha.)
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Blanda of Filneck.
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+                     Blanda, ha! not Recha?
+   Your Recha now no more! Have you resigned
+   Your child? Give her her Christian name once more,
+   And for my sake discard her then. Oh, Nathan,
+   Why must she suffer for a fault of mine?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   What mean you, oh, my children, both of you?
+   For sure my daughter's brother is my child
+   Whenever he shall wish.
+   (_While they embrace_ Nathan, Saladin _uneasily approaches_
+                          Sittah.)
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                              What say you, sister? Sittah.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   I'm deeply moved----
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        And I half tremble when
+   I think of the emotion that must come:
+   Prepare yourself to bear it as you may.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   What! How!
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                  Nathan, a word--one word with you.
+   (_He joins_ Nathan, _while_ Sittah _approaches the others to
+         express her sympathy, and_ Nathan _and_ Saladin _converse
+         in a low tone_.)
+
+   Hear, hear me, Nathan. Said you not just now
+   That he----
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+             That who?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                      Her father was not born
+   In Germany. You know then whence he came?
+   And what he was?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                     He never told me that.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   Was he no Frank, nor from the Western land?
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   He said as much. He spoke the Persian tongue.
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+   The Persian! need I more? 'Tis he! 'twas he!
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   Who?
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+         Assad, my brother Assad, beyond doubt.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+   If you think so, then be assured from this:
+   Look in this book (_handing him the breviary_).
+
+                                SALADIN.
+
+                        Oh, 'tis his hand! once more
+   I recognise it.
+
+                                NATHAN.
+
+                       They know naught of this:
+   It rests with you to tell them all the truth.
+
+          SALADIN (_turning over the leaves of the breviary_).
+
+   They are my brother's children. Shall I not
+   Acknowledge them and claim them? Or shall I
+   Abandon them to you? (_Speaking aloud_.) Sittah, they are
+   The children of my brother and of yours. (_Rushes to
+        embrace them_.)
+
+                   SITTAH (_following his example_).
+
+   What do I hear? Could it be otherwise?
+
+                      SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
+
+   Proud youth! from this time forward you are bound
+   To love me. (_To_ Recha.) And henceforth, without your
+        leave
+   Or with it, I am what I vowed to be.
+
+                                SITTAH.
+
+   And so am I.
+
+                      SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
+
+   My son! my Assad's son!
+
+                                TEMPLAR.
+
+   I of your blood! Then those were more than dreams
+   With which they used to lull my infancy--
+                               (_Falls at_ Sultan's _feet_.)
+
+                        SALADIN (_raising him_).
+
+   There, mark the rascal! though he knew something
+   Of what has chanced, he was content that I
+   Should have become his murderer! Beware.
+   (_The curtain falls whilst they repeatedly embrace each
+                          other in silence_.)
+
+
+
+                             END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+      LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET
+                           AND CHARING CROSS.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                       York Street, Covent Garden,
+                                                 _November_, 1877.
+
+
+
+                                   A
+
+                          CLASSIFIED CATALOGUE
+
+                                   OF
+
+                             SELECTED WORKS
+
+                              PUBLISHED BY
+
+                         GEORGE BELL AND SONS.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+                               CONTENTS:
+
+Travel and Archaeology          1    |     Poetry and Drama      11
+Biography--History           2,4    |     Law and Reference     14
+Philosophy                     5    |     Natural History       15
+Theology                       6    |     Art and Ornament      16
+Standard Prose                10    |     Young People          18
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+                        _TRAVEL AND ARCHEOLOGY_.
+
+ANCIENT ATHENS; its History, Topography, and Remains. By T. H. Dyer,
+LL.D. Super-royal 8vo. copiously Illustrated. 1_l_. 5_s_.
+
+'Dr. Dyer's volume will be a work of reference to the student
+of Greek History and literature, of the greatest interest and
+value.'--_Spectator_.
+
+DESERT OF THE EXODUS. Journeys on Foot in the Wilderness of the Forty
+Years' Wanderings, undertaken in connexion with the Ordnance Survey of
+Sinai and the Palestine Exploration Fund. By E. H. Palmer, M.A., Lord
+Almoner's Professor of Arabic, and Fellow of St. John's College,
+Cambridge. With Maps and numerous Illustrations. 2 vols. 8vo. 1_l_.
+8_s_.
+
+'A work which the biblical student will highly prize for the strong
+light which it sheds upon a most important portion of Scripture
+history, but which cannot be read without interest and delight by every
+one who is capable of taking an intelligent interest in manners and
+customs widely removed from our own.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+HISTORY OF EGYPT. From the Earliest Times till its Conquest by the
+Arabs, A.D. 640. By S. Sharpe. With numerous Illustrations, Maps, &c.
+6th Edition. 2 vols. post 8vo. 10_s_.
+
+NINEVEH AND ITS PALACES. By J. Bonomi, F.R.S.L. New Edition, revised
+and considerably enlarged. With upwards of 300 Engravings. Post 8vo.
+5_s_.
+
+HISTORY OF POMPEII: its Buildings and Antiquities. An Account of the
+City, with full description of the Remains and Recent Excavations, and
+also an Itinerary for Visitors. By T. H. Dyer, LL.D. With nearly 300
+Wood Engravings, a large Map, and a Plan of the Forum. 4th Edition,
+bringing the work down to 1874. Post 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+ROME AND THE CAMPAGNA. A Historical and Topographical Description of
+the Site, Buildings and Neighbourhood of ancient Rome. By the Rev. R.
+Burn, late Fellow and Tutor of Trinity College, Cambridge. With 85
+Engravings by Jewitt, and numerous Maps and Plans. An Appendix and
+additional Plan illustrating recent Excavations have lately been added.
+Demy 4to. 3_l_. 3_s_.
+
+
+                              _BIOGRAPHY_.
+
+BARBAULD (MRS.) A Memoir of, including Letters and Notices of her
+Family and Friends. By her great-niece, Anna Letitia Le Breton. With
+Portrait. Demy 12mo. 5_s_.
+
+BOSWELL'S JOHNSON, and JOHNSONIANA. Including his Tour to the Hebrides,
+Tour in Wales, &c. Edited, with large Additions and Notes, by the Rt.
+Hon. J. W. Croker. The second and most complete Copyright Edition, with
+upwards of 40 Engravings on Steel. Post 8vo. 5 vols. 20_s_.
+
+BRYAN. A Biographical and Critical Dictionary of Painters and
+Engravers. With a List of Ciphers, Monograms, and Marks. By M. Bryan. A
+New Edition by G. Stanley. Imp. 8vo. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+---- A SUPPLEMENT of RECENT and LIVING PAINTERS. By H. Ottley. Imp.
+8vo. 12_s_.
+
+COLERIDGE (S. T.) Biographia Literaria, and two Lay Sermons. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+COOPER (THOMPSON). A New Biographical Dictionary. By T. Cooper, F.S.A.
+1 vol. 8vo. 12_s_.
+
+FOSTER (JOHN), The Life of. 2 vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+GOETHE, Autobiography of (Wahrheit und Dichtung aus Meinem Leben). 2
+vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+GOETHE. Conversations with Eckermann and Soret. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+GOETHE. Correspondence with Schiller. 2 vols. post 8vo. 7_s_.
+
+GOLDSMITH (O.) The Life of, together with The Sketch-Book. By
+Washington Irving. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. The Life alone, in paper
+wrapper, 1_s_. 6_d_.
+
+IRVING (W.) Life and Letters. By his Nephew, P. E. Irving. In 2 vols.
+post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+LUTHER, Michelet's Life of. Translated by W. Hazlitt. Post 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+MAHOMET AND HIS SUCCESSORS. By Washington Irving. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+MICHAEL ANGELO AND RAPHAEL, their Lives and Works. By Duppa and
+Quatremere de Quincy. With 13 Engravings on Steel. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+NELSON, The Life of. By R. Southey. With additional Notes and numerous
+Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+RICHTER (J. P. F.) Autobiography and short Memoir, with the _Levana_.
+Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WASHINGTON, The Life of. By W. Irving. With Portrait. In 4 vols. post
+8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+WELLINGTON, The Life of. By An Old Soldier, from the materials of
+Maxwell. Eighteen Engravings. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+WESLEY (JOHN), The Life of. By R. Southey. New and Complete Edition.
+With Portrait. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+
+                   _By the late Sir A. Helps, K.C.B._
+
+BRASSEY (T.) The Life and Labours of the late. With Illustrations. 5th
+Edition, 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+HERNANDO CORTES, The Life of, and The CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 2 vols. Crown
+8vo. 15_s_.
+
+COLUMBUS, The Life of. The Discoverer of America. 5th Edition. Crown
+8vo. 6_s_.
+
+PIZARRO, The Life of. With Some Account of his Associates in the
+Conquest of Peru. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+LAS CASAS, The Life of, the Apostle of the Indies. 3rd Edition. Crown
+8vo. 6_s_.
+
+
+                              _HISTORY_.
+
+MODERN EUROPE, from the Fall of Constantinople to the Founding of the
+German Empire, A.D. 1453-1871. By Thomas Henry Dyer, LL.D. 2nd Edition,
+revised throughout and continued by the Author. In 5 vols. demy 8vo.
+2_l_. 12_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KINGS OF ROME, History of the. By T. Dyer, LL.D. With a Prefatory
+Dissertation on the Sources and Evidences of Early Roman History. Demy
+8vo. 16_s_.
+
+'It will mark or help to mark an era in the history of the subject to
+which it is devoted. It is one of the most decided as well as one of
+the ablest results of the reaction which is now in progress against the
+influence of Niebuhr.'--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+DECLINE OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC. From the Destruction of Carthage to the
+Consulship of Julius Caesar. By George Long, M.A. 5 vols. 8vo. 14_s_.
+per vol.
+
+'If any one can guide us through the almost inextricable mazes of this
+labyrinth, it is Mr. Long. As a chronicler, he possesses all the
+requisite knowledge, and what is nearly, if not quite as important, the
+necessary caution. He never attempts to explain that which is
+hopelessly corrupt or obscure: he does not confound twilight with
+daylight; he warns the reader repeatedly that he is standing on shaking
+ground; he has no framework of theory into which he presses his
+facts.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+LIFE OF THE EMPEROR KARL THE GREAT. Translated from the contemporary
+History Of Eginhard, with Notes and Chapters on Eginhard--the
+Franks--Karl--and the Breaking-up of the Empire. With a Map. By William
+Glaister, M.A., B.C.L., University College, Oxford. Crown 8vo. 4_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+HISTORY OF ENGLAND, during the Early and Middle Ages. By C. H. Pearson,
+M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. 2nd Edition, much enlarged. Vol.
+I. 8vo. 16_s_. Vol. II. 8vo. 14_s_.
+
+HISTORICAL MAPS OF ENGLAND during the first Thirteen Centuries. With
+Explanatory Essays and Indices. By C. H. Pearson, M.A. Imp. folio. 2nd
+Edition. 31_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE BARONS' WAR. Including the Battles of Lewes and Evesham. By W. H.
+Blaauw, M.A. 2nd Edition, with Additions and Corrections by C. H.
+Pearson, M.A. Demy 8vo. 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THIRTY YEARS' PEACE, 1815-45, A History of the. By Harriet Martineau. 4
+vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+QUEENS OF ENGLAND, from the Norman Conquest to the Reign of Queen Anne.
+By Agnes Strickland. Library Edition, with Portraits, Autographs, and
+Vignettes, 8 vols. post 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_. each. Cheap Edition, 6 vols.
+5_s_. each.
+
+MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, The Life of. By A. Strickland. 2 vols. post 8vo.
+cloth gilt, 11_s_.
+
+
+                             _PHILOSOPHY_.
+
+ELEMENTS OF THOUGHT. By Isaac Taylor, Post 8vo. 4_s_.
+
+HOME EDUCATION. By the same Author. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+ELEMENTS OF MORALITY, including Polity. By W. Whewell, D.D. 4th
+Edition. In 1 vol. 8vo. 15_s_.
+
+MORAL PHILOSOPHY. Lectures on the History of, in England. By W.
+Whewell, D.D. Crown 8vo. 8_s_.
+
+MANUAL OF HUMAN CULTURE. By M. A. Garvey, LL.B. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+LOCKE. PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS, containing an Essay on the Human
+Understanding, &c., with Notes and Index by J. A. St. John. Portrait.
+In 2 vols. Post 8vo. 7_s_.
+
+INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF EUROPE. A History of the. By J. W. Draper,
+M.D., LL.D. 2 vols. Post 8vo. 10_s_.
+
+COMTE'S PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES. Edited by G. H. Lewes. Post 8vo.
+5_s_.
+
+KANT. CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON. Translated by J. M. D. Meiklejohn. Post
+8vo. 5_s_.
+
+HEGEL. LECTURES ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY. Translated by J. Sibree,
+M.A. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+
+                              _THEOLOGY_.
+
+ARTICLES OF RELIGION, History of the. To which is added a Series of
+Documents from A.D. 1536 to A.D. 1615. Together with Illustrations from
+contemporary sources. By the late C. Hardwick, M.A., Archdeacon of Ely.
+3rd Edition. Revised by the Rev. F. Procter, M.A., Author of 'A History
+of the Book of Common Prayer,' with additional matter. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+THE CREEDS, History of. By J. Rawson Lumby, M.A., Tyrwhitt's Hebrew
+Scholar, Crosse Divinity Scholar. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+PEARSON (BP.) ON THE CREED. Carefully printed from an Early Edition.
+With Analysis and Index. Edited by E. Walford, M.A. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+COMMON PRAYER. Historical and Explanatory Treatise on the Book of.
+By W. G. Humphry, B.D., Prebendary of St. Paul's and Vicar of St.
+Martin-in-the-Fields. 5th Edition, revised and enlarged. Fcap. 8vo.
+4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+COMMON PRAYER, Rational Illustrations of the Book of. By C. Wheatly,
+M.A. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+AN INTRODUCTION TO THE OLD TESTAMENT. By F. Bleek. Translated from the
+German by G. H. Venables, under the supervision of the Rev. E.
+Venables. In 2 vols. 10_s_.
+
+COMPANION TO THE GREEK TESTAMENT. For the use of Theological Students
+and the Upper Forms in Schools. By A. C. Barrett, M.A., Caius College.
+3rd Edition, enlarged and improved. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+          _By F. H. Scrivener, D.C.L., Prebendary of Exeter_.
+
+NOVUM TESTAMENTUM GRAECUM, TEXTUS STEPHANICI, 1550. Accedunt variae
+lectiones editionum Bezae, Elzeviri, Lachmanni, Tischendorfii, et
+Tregellesii. 16mo. 4_s_. 6_d_. With wide Margin for Notes, 4to. 12_s_.
+
+A PLAIN INTRODUCTION TO THE CRITICISM OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. With 40
+Facsimiles from Ancient Manuscripts. Containing also an Account of the
+Egyptian Versions by Canon Lightfoot, D.D. For the Use of Biblical
+Students. New Edition. Demy 8vo. 16_s_.
+
+SIX LECTURES ON THE TEXT OF THE NEW TESTAMENT and the ancient
+Manuscripts which contain it. Chiefly addressed to those who do not
+read Greek. With facsimiles from MSS. &c. Crown 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+BOOK OF PSALMS; a New Translation, with Introductions and Notes,
+Critical and Explanatory. By the Rev. J. J. Stewart Perowne, D.D.,
+Canon Residentiary of Llandaff, and Hulsean Professor of Divinity,
+Cambridge. 8vo. Vol. I. 3rd Edition, 18_s_. Vol. II. 3rd Edition,
+16_s_. An abridged Edition for Schools and Private Students. Crown 8vo.
+10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+A COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPELS AND EPISTLES for the Sundays and other Holy
+Days of the Christian Year. By the Rev. W. Denton, A.M., Worcester
+College, Oxford, and Incumbent of St. Bartholomew's, Cripplegate. In 5
+vols. 18_s_. each.
+
+A COMMENTARY ON THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. In 2 vols. Vol. I. 18_s_.
+Vol. II. 14_s_. These Commentaries originated in Notes collected by the
+compiler to aid in the composition of expository sermons. They are
+derived from all available sources, and especially from the wide but
+little-known field of theological comment found in the 'Schoolmen' of
+the Middle Ages. They are recommended to the notice of young Clergymen,
+who frequently, while inexperienced, are called upon to preach to
+educated and intelligent congregations.
+
+BIBLE-ENGLISH. Chapters on Words and Phrases in the Authorized Version
+of the Holy Scriptures and the Book of Common Prayer, no longer in
+common use; illustrated from contemporaneous writers. By the Rev. T.
+Lewis O. Davies, M.A., Vicar of St. Mary Extra, Southampton. Small
+crown 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+'Everyone who takes an interest in the history of the English Language,
+and indeed everyone who is not absolutely inattentive to the words
+spoken around him, may turn to Mr. Davies's little book with the
+certainty of finding both useful information and agreeable
+entertainment in its pages.'--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST; in its Historical Connexion and Development. By
+A. Neander. From the 4th German Edition. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+LIFE AND EPISTLES OF ST. PAUL. By T. Lewin, Esq., M.A., F.S.A., Trinity
+College, Oxford, Barrister-at-law, Author of 'Fasti Sacri,' 'Siege of
+Jerusalem,' 'Caesar's Invasion,' 'Treatise on Trusts,' &c. With upwards
+of 350 Illustrations finely engraved on Wood, Maps, Plans, &c. In 2
+vols. 3rd Edition, revised. Demy 4to. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+'Nothing but a careful inspection of the work itself can give the
+reader an adequate idea of the thoroughness with which Mr. Lewin has
+carried out his plan--a plan which may be described as the giving of
+all information possibly attainable about every person or place
+connected directly or even indirectly with St. Paul.'--_Spectator_.
+
+FASTI SACRI; or, a Key to the Chronology of the New Testament. By the
+same Author. 4to. 21_s_.
+
+ANALOGY OF RELIGION, Natural and Revealed, and Sermons with Notes. By
+Bp. Butler. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+HOLY LIVING AND DYING. By Bp. Jeremy Taylor. With portrait. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THOMAS A KEMPIS. On the Imitation of Christ. A New Translation. By the
+Rt. Rev. H. Goodwin, Bishop of Carlisle. 3rd Edition. With fine Steel
+Engraving after Guido, 5_s_.; without the Engraving, 3_s_. 6_d_. Cheap
+Edition, 1_s_. cloth; 6_d_. sewed.
+
+                     _For Confirmation Candidates_.
+
+THE CHURCH TEACHER'S MANUAL OF CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTION. Being the Church
+Catechism expanded and explained in Question and Answer, for the use of
+Clergymen, Parents, and Teachers. By the Rev. M. F. Sadler. 16th
+Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It is impossible to overrate the service to religious instruction
+achieved by this compact and yet pregnant volume.... We owe many boons
+to Mr. Sadler, whose sermons and theological lectures and treatises
+have wrought much good in matters of faith. This Catechetical Manual is
+second to none of such.'--_English Churchman_.
+
+CATECHETICAL HINTS AND HELPS. A Manual for Parents and Teachers on
+giving Instruction in the Catechism of the Church of England. 3rd
+Edition, enlarged. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'Perhaps the most thoroughly _practical_ little book on its subject we
+have ever seen. Its explanations, its paraphrases, its questions, and
+the mass of information contained in its appendices, are not merely
+invaluable in themselves, but they are the information actually wanted
+for the purpose of the teaching contemplated. We do not wonder at its
+being in its third edition.'--_Literary Churchman_.
+
+THE WINTON CHURCH CATECHIST. Questions and Answers on the Teaching of
+the Church Catechism. 32mo. cloth, 3_s_. Also in Four Parts, 6_d_. or
+9_d_. each.
+
+LIFE AFTER CONFIRMATION. By J. S. Blunt. 18mo. 1_s_.
+
+CONFIRMATION DAY. Being a Book of Instruction for Young Persons how
+they ought to spend that solemn day. By the Rt. Rev. H. Goodwin, D.D.,
+Bp. of Carlisle. 8th Thousand. 2_d_., or 25 for 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+             _By the Rev. M. F. Sadler, Rector of Honiton_.
+
+THE ONE OFFERING; a Treatise on the Sacrificial Nature of the
+Eucharist. 3rd Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A treatise of singular clearness and force, which gives us what we did
+not really possess till it appeared.'--_Church Times_.
+
+'It is by far the most useful, trustworthy, and accurate book we have
+seen upon the subject.'--_Literary Churchman_.
+
+'The subject of the Holy Eucharist is ably and fully treated, and in a
+candid spirit, by Mr. Sadler in these pages.'--_English Churchman_.
+
+JUSTIFICATION OF LIFE: its Nature, Antecedents, and Consequences. Fcap.
+8vo.                                              [_In the press_.]
+
+THE LOST GOSPEL AND ITS CONTENTS; or, the Author of 'Supernatural
+Religion' Refuted by Himself. By Rev. M. F. Sadler, Rector of Honiton.
+Demy 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE SACRAMENT OF RESPONSIBILITY: or, Testimony of the Scripture to the
+Teaching of the Church on Holy Baptism. Fcap. 8vo. cloth, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+Also, Cheap Edition, 25th Thousand, fcap. 8vo. sewed, 6_d_.
+
+'An exceedingly valuable repertory of arguments on the questions it
+refers to.'--_English Churchman_.
+
+CHURCH DOCTRINE--BIBLE TRUTH. Fcap. 8vo. 18th Thousand, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'Some writers have the gift of speaking the right word at the right
+time, and the Rev. M. F. Sadler is pre-eminently one of them. "Church
+Doctrine--Bible Truth," is full of wholesome truths fit for these
+times.... He has power of putting his meaning in a forcible and
+intelligible way, which will, we trust, enable his valuable work to
+effect that which it is well calculated to effect, viz. to meet with an
+appropriate and crushing reply one of the most dangerous misbeliefs of
+the time.'--_Guardian_.
+
+THE SECOND ADAM AND THE NEW BIRTH; or, the Doctrine of Baptism as
+contained in Holy Scripture. Fcap. 8vo. 7th Edition, price 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'The most striking peculiarity of this useful little work is that its
+author argues almost exclusively from the Bible. We commend it most
+earnestly to clergy and laity, as containing in a small compass, and at
+a trifling cost, a body of sound and Scriptural doctrine respecting the
+New Birth, which cannot be too widely circulated.'--_Guardian_.
+
+PARISH SERMONS. Trinity to Advent. Fcap. 8vo. 2nd Edition, 6_s_.
+
+PLAIN SPEAKING ON DEEP TRUTHS. Sermons preached at St. Paul's Church,
+Bedford. Fcap. 8vo. 4th Edition, 6_s_.
+
+ABUNDANT LIFE, and other Sermons. Fcap. 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+THE COMMUNICANT'S MANUAL; being a Book of Self-examination, Prayer,
+Praise, and Thanksgiving. 8th Thousand. Royal 32mo. roan, gilt edges,
+price 2_s_.; cloth, 1_s_. 6_d_. Cheap Edition, for distribution, 25th
+Thousand, 8_d_. A larger Edition, on fine paper, and Rubrics. Fcap.
+8vo. 2_s_. 6_d_.; morocco, 7_s_.
+
+SCRIPTURE TRUTHS. A Series of Ten Plain, Popular Tracts upon subjects
+now universally under discussion, 9_d_. per set, sold separately. No.
+1. Reasons for Infant Baptism. 2. On Eucharistic Worship. 3. On the
+Priesthood of the Christian Ministry. 4. On Confirmation. 5. Reasons
+for receiving the Holy Communion. 6. On the Doctrine of the Holy
+Communion. 7. On Baptism and Conversion. 8. Some Objections to
+receiving the Holy Communion considered. 9. On the First Truths of the
+Christian Faith. 10. On Faith and Justification.
+
+
+                        _STANDARD PROSE WORKS_.
+
+ADDISON. Works. With Notes by Bishop Hurd, and numerous unpublished
+Letters. With Portrait and eight steel Engravings. 6 vols. cloth, gilt,
+post 8vo. 4_s_. each.
+
+BACON'S (LORD) ESSAYS AND HISTORICAL WORKS, with Introduction and Notes
+by J. Devey, M.A. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+BURKE. Works. In 8 vols. post 8vo. cloth, gilt, 4_s_. each.
+
+COLERIDGE (S. T.) THE FRIEND. A Series of Essays on Morals, Politics,
+and Religion. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+COLERIDGE (S. T.) BIOGRAPHIA LITERARIA, and Two Lay Sermons. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+CRAIK (G. L.) THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. Illustrated.
+Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+EMERSON (R. W.) WORKS, comprising Essays, Lectures, Poems, and
+Orations. In 2 vols. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+FIELDING (H.) TOM JONES, the History of a Foundling. Roscoe's Edition
+revised. With Illustrations by G. Cruikshank. In 2 vols. 7_s_.
+
+FIELDING (H.) JOSEPH ANDREWS, and Roscoe's Biography of the Author
+revised. With Illustrations by G. Cruikshank. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+FIELDING (H.) AMELIA. Roscoe's Edition revised. With Cruikshank's
+Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+HAZLITT'S (W.) LECTURES, &c. 6 vols. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+IRVING (W.) WORKS. In 11 vols. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each. [_See also
+p_. 3.]
+
+LAMB (C.) ESSAYS OF ELIA, AND ELIANA. New Edition, post 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+LUTHER (M.) TABLE-TALK. Translated by W. Hazlitt. With Life and
+Portrait. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+MANZONI (ALESSANDRO). THE BETROTHED (I promessi Sposi). The only
+complete English translation. With numerous Woodcuts, 5_s_.
+
+PEPYS'S DIARY. With Life and Notes by Richard Lord Braybrooke. 4 vols.
+post 8vo. cloth, gilt, 5_s_. 6_d_. per vol.
+
+PROUT (FATHER). RELIQUES. New Edition, revised and largely augmented.
+Twenty-one spirited Etchings by Maclise. 1 vol. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+RICHTER (J. P. F.) AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND LEVANA. Translated. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+RICHTER (J. P. F.) FLOWER, FRUIT, AND THORN PIECES. A Novel. Translated
+by Alex. Ewing. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WALTON. THE COMPLETE ANGLER. Edited by E. Jesse. With an account of
+Fishing Stations, &c., and 203 Engravings. 5_s_.; or with 26 additional
+page Illustrations on Steel, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+
+                           _POETRY AND DRAMA_
+
+SHAKESPEARE. Edited by S. W. Singer. With a Life by W. W. Lloyd.
+Uniform with the Aldine Edition of the Poets. 10 vols. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+each. In half morocco, 5_s_.
+
+CRITICAL ESSAYS ON THE PLAYS. By W. W. Lloyd. Uniform with the above,
+2_s_. 6_d_.; in half morocco, 5_s_.
+
+SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS AND POEMS. With Notes and Life by Charles Knight,
+and 40 Engravings on Wood by Harvey. Royal 8vo. cloth, 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+---- (Valpy's Cabinet Pictorial Edition), with Glossarial Notes,
+Digests, &c., and 171 Outline Plates. 15 vols. Fcap. 8vo. 2_l_. 5_s_.
+
+---- (Pocket Volume Edition). Comprising all his Plays and Poems.
+Edited from the First Folio Edition by T. Keightley. 13 vols. royal
+32mo. in a cloth box, price 21_s_.
+
+SHAKESPEARE. DRAMATIC ART OF  The History and Character of the Plays.
+By Dr. Ulrici. Translated by L. D. Schmitz. 2 vols. post 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_. each.
+
+CHAUCER. Robert Bell's Edition. Revised. With Preliminary Essay by the
+Rev. W. W. Skeat. M.A. 4 vols. 3_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+EARLY BALLADS AND SONGS OF THE PEASANTRY OF ENGLAND. Edited by Robert
+Bell. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+GREENE, MARLOWE, and BEN JONSON. Poems of. Edited by Robert Bell. 1
+vol. post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+PERCY'S RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY. Reprinted from the Original
+Edition, and Edited by J. V. Prichard. In 2 vols. 7_s_.
+
+MILTON'S (J.) POETICAL WORKS. With Memoir and Notes, and 120
+Engravings. In 2 vols. post 8vo. 5_s_. each.
+
+GOLDSMITH. POEMS. Illustrated. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+SHERIDAN'S DRAMATIC WORKS. With Short Life, by G. C. S. and Portrait.
+Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+ALFIERI. The Tragedies of. In English Verse. Edited by E. A. Bowring,
+C. B. 2 vols. post 8vo. 7_s_.
+
+CAMOENS' LUSIAD. Mickle's Translation revised. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+DANTE. THE DIVINE COMEDY. Translated by the Rev. H. F. Cary. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+This and the following one are the only editions containing the
+author's last corrections and emendations.
+
+---- The Popular Edition, neatly Printed in Double Columns. Royal 8vo.
+sewed, 1_s_. 6_d_.; cloth, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+---- Translated into English Verse by J. C. Wright, M.A. With Portrait
+and 34 Engravings on Steel, after Flaxman. 5th Edition, post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+PETRARCH. SONNETS, TRIUMPHS, AND OTHER POEMS. Translated into English
+Verse. With Campbell's Life of the Poet. Illustrated. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+MOLIERE. DRAMATIC WORKS. In prose. Translated by C. H. Wall. In 3 vols.
+post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each. Also fine-paper Edition, large post 8vo.
+7_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+                  _Translated by E. A. Bowring, C.B._
+
+POEMS OF GOETHE. 2nd Edition (including Hermann and Dorothea). Post
+8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+POEMS OF SCHILLER. 2nd Edition. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+POEMS OF HEINE. 2nd Edition. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+                     _By Professor Conington, M.A._
+
+HORACE'S ODES AND CARMEN SAECULARE. Translated into English Verse. 7th
+Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_. 6_d_.
+
+---- SATIRES AND EPISTLES. Translated into English Verse. 3rd Edition.
+6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+                         _By C. S. Calverley_.
+
+VERSES AND TRANSLATIONS. 5th Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+FLY LEAVES. 6th Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+TRANSLATIONS INTO ENGLISH AND LATIN. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THEOCRITUS, into English Verse. Crown 8vo. 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+                      _By Adelaide Anne Procter_.
+
+LEGENDS AND LYRICS. Illustrated Edition, with Portrait, and
+Introduction by Charles Dickens. 4th Thous. 21_s_.
+
+---- First Series. Introduction by Charles Dickens, and Portrait of the
+Author. 29th Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+---- Second Series. 23rd Thousand. Fcap. 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+ENGLISH SONGS AND LYRICS. By Barry Cornwall. New Edition. Fcap. 8vo.
+6_s_.
+
+SONGS, BALLADS, AND STORIES. By W. Allingham. Crown 8vo. gilt edges,
+10_s_. 6_d_.
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+                  ALDINE SERIES OF THE BRITISH POETS.
+
+The Editors of the various authors in this Series have in all cases
+endeavoured to make the collections of Poems as complete as possible,
+and in many instances copyright Poems are to be found in these editions
+which are not in any other. Each volume is carefully edited, with Notes
+where necessary for the elucidation of the Text, and a Memoir. A
+Portrait also is added in all cases where an authentic one is
+accessible. The volumes are printed on toned paper in fcap. 8vo. size,
+and neatly bound in cloth gilt, price 5_s_. each.
+
+  A Cheap Reprint of this Series, neat cloth, 1_s_. 6_d_. per volume.
+
+AKENSIDE.                                 | KIRKE WHITE.
+BEATTIE.                                  | MILTON. 3 vols.
+BURNS. 3 vols.                            | PARNELL.
+BUTLER. 2 vols.                           | POPE. 3 vols.
+CHAUCER. 6 vols.                          | PRIOR. 2 vols.
+CHURCHILL. 2 vols.                        | SHAKESPEARE'S POEMS.
+COLLINS.                                  | SPENSER. 5 vols.
+COWPER, including his Translations.       | SURREY.
+   3 vols.                                | SWIFT. 3 vols.
+DRYDEN. 5 vols.                           | THOMSON. 2 vols.
+FALCONER.                                 | WYATT.
+GOLDSMITH.                                | YOUNG. 2 vols.
+GRAY.
+
+  The following volumes of a New Series have been issued, 5_s_. each.
+
+CHATTERTON. 2 vols.                       | THE COURTLY POETS, from
+CAMPBELL.                                 |   RALEIGH to WOTTON.
+WILLIAM BLAKE.                            | GEORGE HERBERT.
+ROGERS.                                   | KEATS.
+
+
+                              _REFERENCE._
+
+STUDENTS' GUIDE to the University of Cambridge. 3rd Edition, revised
+and corrected. Fcap. 8vo. 6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KING'S INTEREST TABLES. 25th Edition, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KENT'S COMMENTARY on International Law. New Edition, revised, with
+additional Notes and Cases, by J. T. Abdy, LL.D. Crown 8vo.
+                                                   [_Immediately_.]
+
+THE EPIGRAMMATISTS. Selections from the Epigrammatic Literature of
+Ancient, Mediaeval, and Modern Times. With Notes, &c. by Rev. H. P.
+Dodd, M.A. 2nd Edition, enlarged. Post 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+LATIN AND GREEK QUOTATIONS. A Dictionary of. Including Proverbs,
+Maxims, Mottoes, Law Terms, Phrases, &c. By H. T. Riley. Post 8vo.
+5_s_. With Index Verboram, 6_s_.
+
+BRYAN'S DICTIONARY OF PAINTERS. _See p_. 2.
+
+COOPER'S BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. _See p_. 2.
+
+DR. RICHARDSON'S DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Combining
+Explanation with Etymology, and copiously illustrated by Quotations
+from the best authorities. New edition, with a Supplement. In 2 vols.
+4to. 4_l_. 14_s_. 6_d_.; half-bound in russia, 5_l_. 15_s_. 6_d_.;
+russia, 6_l_. 12_s_. The Supplement separately. 4to. 12_s_. An 8vo
+edition, without the Quotations, 15_s_.; half russia, 20_s_.; russia,
+24_s_.
+
+The following are the only authorised and unabridged Editions of
+WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY containing the valuable Etymological Notes and
+Derivations of Dr. Mahn, of Berlin, who devoted five years to the
+Revision of the Work.
+
+WEBSTER'S GUINEA DICTIONARY of the English Language, including
+scientific, biblical, and Scottish terms and phrases, with their
+pronunciations, alternative spellings, derivations, and meanings. In 1
+vol. 4to. with nearly 1600 pages and 3000 Illustrations. Strongly bound
+in cloth, 21_s_.; half calf, 30_s_.; calf or half russia, 1_l_. 11_s_.
+6_d_.; russia, 2_l_.
+
+WEBSTER'S COMPLETE DICTIONARY, containing all that appears in the
+above, and also a valuable Appendix, and 70 pages of Illustrations
+grouped and classified, rendering it a complete Literary and Scientific
+Reference Book. 1 vol. 4to. strongly bound in cloth, 1_l_. 11_s_.
+6_d_.; half calf, 2_l_.; calf or half russia, 2_l_. 2_s_.; russia,
+2_l_. 10_s_.
+
+'Certainly the best practical English Dictionary extant.'--_Quarterly
+Review_.
+
+
+                           _NATURAL HISTORY_.
+
+THE LIBRARY OF NATURAL HISTORY. Containing Morris' British
+Birds--Nests--Eggs--British Butterflies--British Moths--Bree's Birds of
+Europe--Lowe's Works on British and Exotic Ferns, Grasses and Beautiful
+Leaved Plants--Hibberd's Plants--Maund's Botanic Garden--Tripp's
+British Mosses--Gatty's Seaweeds--Wooster's Alpine Plants, and Couch's
+Fishes--making in all 43 Volumes, in super-royal 8vo. containing
+upwards of 2550 full--page Plates, carefully coloured.
+
+            _Complete Lists sent post free on application_.
+
+SOWERBY'S BOTANY. Containing a Description and Life--size Drawing of
+every British Plant. Edited and brought up to the present standard of
+scientific knowledge, by T. Boswell (formerly Syme), LL.D., F.L.S., &c.
+With Popular Descriptions of the Uses, History, and Traditions of each
+Plant, by Mrs. Lankester, Author of 'Wild Flowers worth Notice,' 'The
+British Ferns,' &c. The Figures by J. C. Sowerby, F.L.S., J. De C.
+Sowerby, F.L.S., and J. W. Salter, A.L.S., F.G.S., and John Edward
+Sowerby. Third Edition, entirely revised, with descriptions of all the
+species by the Editor. In 11 vols. 22_l_. 8_s_. cloth; 24_l_. 12_s_.
+half morocco; and 28_l_. 3_s_. 6_d_. whole morocco. Volumes sold
+separately.
+
+SOWERBY'S FERNS AND FERN-ALLIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. With 80 Plates by J.
+E. Sowerby. The Descriptions, Synonyms, &c, by C. Johnson. Royal paper,
+Coloured Plates, 25_s_.
+
+COTTAGE GARDENER'S DICTIONARY. With a Supplement, containing all the
+new plants and varieties down to the year 1869. Edited by G. W.
+Johnson. Post 8vo. cloth, 6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+BOTANIST'S POCKET-BOOK. By W. R. Hayward. Containing the Botanical
+name, Common name, Soil or Situation, Colour, Growth, and time of
+Flowering of all plants, arranged in a tabulated form. 2nd Edition,
+revised. Fcap. 8vo. 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+MY GARDEN; its Plan and Culture. Together with a General Description of
+its Geology, Botany, and Natural History. By A. Smee, F.R.S., with more
+than 1300 Engravings on Wood. 4th Thousand, imp. 8vo. 21_s_.
+
+"'My Garden' is indeed a book which ought to be in the hands of
+everyone who is fortunate enough to possess a garden of his own; he is
+certain to find some things in it from which he may profit."--_Nature_.
+
+NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. With Notes by Sir William Jardine and
+Edward Jesse, Esq. Illustrated by 40 highly-finished Engravings; or,
+with the Plates coloured, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+HISTORY OF BRITISH BIRDS. By R. Mudie. With 28 Plates. 2 vols. 7_s_.
+6_d_. each.
+
+
+                          _ART AND ORNAMENT_.
+
+TURNER'S PICTURESQUE VIEWS IN ENGLAND AND WALES. With Descriptive
+Notices. 96 Illustrations, reproduced in Permanent Photography. In 3
+vols. imp. 4to. Vol. I. Landscapes, 40 Plates, 2_l_. 12_s_. 6_d_.; Vol.
+II. Castles and Abbeys, 32 Plates, 2_l_. 2_s_.; Vol. III. Coast
+Scenery, 24 Plates, 1_l_. 11_s_. 6_d_.
+
+TURNER'S CELEBRATED LANDSCAPES. Sixteen Autotype Reproductions of the
+most important Works of J. M. W. Turner, R.A. With Memoir and
+Descriptions. Imp. 4to. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+THE RAFFAELLE GALLERY. Permanent Reproductions in Autotype of
+Engravings of the most celebrated Works of Raffaelle Sanzio d'Urbino.
+With Descriptions, &c. Imp. quarto, 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+FLAXMAN. CLASSICAL COMPOSITIONS, comprising the Outline Illustrations
+to Homer's 'Iliad' and 'Odyssey,' the 'Tragedies' of AEschylus, the
+'Theogony' and 'Works and Days' of Hesiod, engraved by Piroli of Rome,
+and William Blake. Imp. 4to. half bound morocco, 4_l_. 14_s_. 6_d_. The
+four parts, separately, 21_s_. each.
+
+---- THE DRAWINGS OF. Thirty-two large Plates, comprising the entire
+Series of the Flaxman Drawings in the Gallery of University College,
+London, reproduced by the Autotype Process of Permanent Photography.
+Edited, with a descriptive letterpress and copious Introduction, by
+Sidney Colvin, M.A., Fellow of Trinity College and Slade Professor in
+the University of Cambridge. Large folio, in portfolio, 10_l_. 10_s_.
+
+MEMOIRS OF SIR EDWIN LANDSEER. Being a New Edition of 'The Early Works
+of Sir Edwin Landseer.' Revised and enlarged by F. G. Stephens. With 24
+Illustrations in Photography. Imp. 8vo. 1_l_. 5_s_.
+
+NOTES ON IRISH ARCHITECTURE. By the late Earl Of Dunraven. Edited by M.
+Stokes, Associate of the Scottish Society of Antiquaries. With numerous
+Woodcuts and fine Photographic Illustrations. Imp. 4to. Vol. I. 4_l_.
+4_s_.; Vol. II. 4_l_. 4_s_.
+
+MOUNTAINS AND LAKES Of Switzerland AND ITALY. 64 Picturesque Views in
+Chromolithograph, from Original Sketches by C. C. Pyne. With a Map of
+Routes and Descriptive Notes by Rev. J. Mercier. 2nd Edition. Crown
+4to. 2_l_. 2_s_.
+
+RIVIERA, THE. Pen-and-Pencil Sketches from Cannes to Genoa. By Dean
+Alford. With 12 Chromolithographic Illustrations and numerous Woodcuts,
+from Drawings by the Author. Imp. 8vo. 21_s_.
+
+CRUIKSHANK (G.) A COMPLETE CATALOGUE OF THE ENGRAVED WORKS OF.
+Including Etchings on Steel, Copper, &c., and Woodcuts executed between
+the years 1805 and 1870. Compiled by G. W. Reid, Keeper of the Prints
+and Drawings in the British Museum. With a large number of
+Illustrations, chiefly from the Original Plates and Blocks. In 3 vols.
+royal 4to. 12_l_. 12_s_.
+
+FLAXMAN. LECTURES ON SCULPTURE, as delivered before the President and
+Members of the Royal Academy. By J. Flaxman, R.A. With 53 Plates. New
+Edition, 6_s_.
+
+HEATON (MRS.) A CONCISE HISTORY OF PAINTING FOR STUDENTS AND GENERAL
+READERS. By Mrs. Heaton. With Illustrations. 8vo. 15_s_.
+
+DRAWING COPIES. By P. H. Delamotte, Professor of Drawing at King's
+College, London. 96 Original Sketches in Architecture, Trees, Figures,
+Foregrounds, Landscapes, Boats, and Sea--pieces. Royal 8vo. Oblong,
+half-bound, 12_s_.
+
+HANDBOOK TO THE DEPARTMENT OF PRINTS AND DRAWINGS IN THE BRITISH
+MUSEUM. With Introduction and Notices of the various Schools, and a
+Frontispiece after Raffaelle. By Louis Fagan, of the Department of
+Prints and Drawings, British Museum. Medium 8vo. 8_s_.; sewed, 9_s_. in
+cloth.
+
+                          _By Eliza Meteyard_.
+
+MEMORIALS OF WEDGWOOD. A Series of Plaques, Cameos, Vases, &c.,
+selected from various Private Collections, and executed in Permanent
+Photography. With Introduction and Descriptions. Imp. 4to. 3_l_. 3_s_.
+
+WEDGWOOD AND HIS WORKS: a Selection of his choicest Plaques,
+Medallions, Vases, &c, from Designs by Flaxman and others, in Permanent
+Photography, with a Sketch of his Life and of the Progress of his Art
+Manufacture. Imp. 4to. 3_l_. 3_s_.
+
+CATALOGUE OF WEDGWOOD'S MANUFACTURES. With Illustrations. Half-bound
+8vo. 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WEDGWOOD HANDBOOK. A Manual for Collectors: Treating of the Marks,
+Monograms, and other Tests of the Old Period of Manufacture; also
+including the Catalogues with Prices obtained at various Sales,
+together with a Glossary of Terms. 8vo. 10_s_. 6_d_.
+
+OLD DERBY CHINA FACTORY. The Workmen and their Productions. Containing
+Biographical Sketches of the chief Artist-workmen, the various Marks
+used, Facsimiles from the old Derby Books, and original Price Lists of
+more than 400 Figures and Groups, &c. With 12 Coloured Plates and
+numerous Woodcuts. By John Haslem. Imp. 8vo. 31_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'That which has been done so well by Miss Meteyard for Etruria, by Mr.
+Binns for Worcester, and by Mr. Owen for Bristol, has now been done for
+the Derby works with at least equal zeal, intelligence, and ability, by
+Mr. Haslem.'--_Staffordshire Advertiser_.
+
+
+                          _FOR YOUNG PEOPLE_.
+
+AUNT JUDY'S MAGAZINE. Edited by H. K. F. Gatty. A High-class
+Illustrated Magazine for Young People. 8_d_. Monthly.
+
+The CHRISTMAS VOLUME for 1877 contains Stories by Mrs. Ewing,
+Ascott R. Hope, Flora Masson, and others. Translations from the
+German, French, and Swedish--Short Stories--Fairy Tales--Papers
+on Historical Subjects--Natural History Articles. Short Biographies
+of Eminent Persons--Verses--A Christmas Play by Douglas
+Straight--Acrostics--Correspondence--Book Notices, and numerous
+Illustrations. Imp. 16mo. Handsomely bound, price 8_s_. 6_d_.
+
+       _Former Volumes may still be had, some at reduced prices_.
+
+                        _By Mrs. Alfred Gatty_.
+
+PARABLES FROM NATURE. With Notes on the Natural History; and numerous
+large Illustrations by eminent Artists. 4to. cloth gilt, 21_s_. Also in
+2 vols. 10_s_. 6_d_. each.
+
+---- 16mo. with Illustrations. First Series, 17th Edition, 1_s_. 6_d_.
+Second Series, 10th Edition, 2_s_. The two Series in 1 vol. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+Third Series, 6th Edition, 2_s_. Fourth Series, 4th Edition, 2_s_. The
+two Series in one vol. 4_s_. Fifth Series, 2_s_.
+
+WORLDS NOT REALIZED. 16mo. 4th Edition, 2_s_.
+
+PROVERBS ILLUSTRATED. 16mo. With Illustrations. 4th Edition, 2_s_.
+
+A BOOK OF EMBLEMS. Drawn by F. Gilbert. With Introduction and
+Explanations. Imp. 16mo. 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+WAIFS AND STRAYS OF NATURAL HISTORY. With Coloured Frontispiece and
+Woodcuts. Fcap. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE POOR INCUMBENT. Fcap. 8vo. 1_s_. and 1_s_. 6_d_.
+
+AUNT SALLY'S LIFE. With Six Illustrations. Square 16mo. 3rd Edition,
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+THE MOTHER'S BOOK OF POETRY. Selected and Arranged by Mrs. A. Gatty.
+Crown 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.; or with Illustrations, elegantly bound, 7_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+A BIT OF BREAD. By Jean Mace. Translated by Mrs. Alfred Gatty. 2 vols.
+fcap. 8vo. Vol. I. 4_s_. 6_d_. Vol. II. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+        The Uniform Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_. each volume.
+
+PARABLES FROM NATURE.                 | DOMESTIC PICTURES AND
+ 2 vols. With Portrait.               | TALES. With 6 Illustrations.
+THE HUMAN FACE DIVINE,                | WORLDS NOT REALIZED,
+ and other Tales. With Illustrations. |  and Proverbs Illustrated.
+ 3rd Edition.                         | THE HUNDRETH BIRTHDAY,
+THE FAIRY GODMOTHERS,                 |  and other Tales. With
+ and other Tales. With                |  Illustrations by Phiz.
+ Frontispiece. 7th Edition,           |  New Edition.
+ 2_s_. 6_d_.                          | MRS. ALFRED GATTY'S
+AUNT JUDY'S TALES.                    |  PRESENTATION BOX for Young
+ Illustrated. 7th Edition.            |  People, containing the above
+AUNT JUDY'S LETTERS; a                |  volumes, neatly bound, and
+ Sequel to 'Aunt Judy's Tales.'       |  enclosed in a cloth box.
+ Illustrated. 5th Edition.            |  31_s_. 6_d_.
+
+
+                            _By Mrs. Ewing_.
+
+'Everything Mrs. Ewing writes is full of talent, and also full of
+perception and common sense.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+A GREAT EMERGENCY, and other Tales. With 4 Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo.
+5_s_. [_Just published._]
+
+THE BROWNIES, and other Tales. Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 3rd
+Edition. Imp. 16mo. 5_s_.
+
+'Mrs. Ewing gives us some really charming writing. While her first
+story most prettily teaches children how much they can do to help their
+parents, the immediate result will be, we fear, anything but good. For
+if a child once begins "The Brownies," it will get so deeply interested
+in it, that when bed-time comes it will altogether forget the moral,
+and will weary its parents with importunities for just a few minutes
+more to see how everything ends. The frontispiece, by the old friend
+of our childhood, George Cruikshank, is no less pretty than the
+story.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+MRS. OVERTHEWAY'S REMEMBRANCES. Illustrated with 10 fine Full-page
+Engravings on Wood, after Drawings by Pasquier and Wolf, and Edition,
+cloth gilt, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It is not often nowadays the privilege of a critic to grow
+enthusiastic over a new work; and the rarity of the occasion that calls
+forth the delight is apt to lead one into the sin of hyperbole. And yet
+we think we shall not be accused of extravagance when we say that,
+without exception, "Mrs. Overthewny's Remembrances" is the most
+delightful work avowedly written for children that we have ever read.
+There are passages in this book which the genius of George Eliot would
+be proud to own. It is full of a peculiar, heart-stirring pathos of its
+own, which culminates in the last pages, when Ida finds that her father
+is not dead. The book is one that may be recurred to often, and always
+with the same delight. We predict for it a great popularity.'--
+_Leader_.
+
+MELCHIOR'S DREAM, and other Tales. Illustrated. 3rd Edition. Fcap. 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+"'Melchior's Dream' is an exquisite little story, charming by original
+humour, buoyant spirits, and tender pathos."--_Athenaeum_.
+
+A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING; or, Some Passages in the Life of an Only
+Son. With 12 Illustrations by H. Allingham. 5th Edition. Small 8vo.
+5_s_.
+
+'Let every parent and guardian who wishes to be amused, and at the same
+time to please a child, purchase "A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or, some
+Passages in the Life of an Only Son," by J. H Ewing. We will answer for
+the delight with which they will read it themselves, and we do not
+doubt that the young and fortunate recipients will also like it. The
+story is quaint, original, and altogether delightful.'--_Athenaeum_.
+
+'A capital book for a present. No child who is fortunate enough to
+possess it will be in a hurry to put it down, for it is a book of
+uncommon fascination. The story is good, the principles inculcated
+admirable, and some of the illustrations simply delicious.'--_John
+Bull_.
+
+LOB-LIE-BY-THE-FIRE; or, the Luck of Lingborough. And other Tales.
+Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 2nd Edition. Imp. 16mo. 5_s_.
+
+'A charming tale by another of those clever writers, thanks to
+whom the children are now really better served than their
+neighbours.'--_Spectator_.
+
+'Mrs. Ewing has written as good a story as her "Brownies," and that is
+saying a great deal. "Lob-lie-by-the-fire" has humour and pathos, and
+teaches what is right without making children think they are reading a
+sermon.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+SIX TO SIXTEEN: A Story for Girls. With 10 Illustrations by Mrs.
+Allingham. 3rd Edition. Small post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+'The homely good sense and humour of the bulk of the story are set off
+by the pathos of its opening and its close, and a soft and beautiful
+light, as of dawn and sunset, is thrown round the substantial English
+ideal of what a girl's education ought to be, which runs through the
+tale.'--_Spectator_.
+
+'It is a beautifully told story, full of humour and pathos, and bright
+sketches of scenery and character. It is all told with great
+naturalness, and will amuse grown-up people quite as much as children.
+In reading the story, we have been struck especially by characteristic
+bits of description, which show very happily the writer's appreciation
+of child life.'--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+'We have rarely met, on such a modest scale, with characters so ably
+and simply drawn ... The merits of the volume, in themselves not small,
+are much enhanced by some clever illustrations from the pencil of Mrs.
+Allingham.'--_Athenaeum_.
+
+'The tone of the book is pleasant and healthy, and singularly free from
+that sentimental, not to say "mawkish," stain which is apt to disfigure
+such productions. The illustrations by Mrs. Allingham add a special
+attraction to the little volume.'--_Times_.
+
+'It is scarcely necessary to say that Mrs. Ewing's book is one of the
+best of the year.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+'There is in it not only a great deal of common sense, but there is
+true humour.... We have not met a healthier or breezier tale for girls
+for a long period.'--_Academy_.
+
+JAN OF THE WINDMILL; a Story of the Plains. With 11 Illustrations by
+Helen Allingham. Crown 8vo. 8_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A capital story, which, like all that Mrs. Ewing gives us, will be
+read with pleasure Some well-drawn illustrations materially increase
+the attractiveness of the volume.'--_City Press_.
+
+                          _By Mrs. O'Reilly_.
+
+'Mrs. O'Reilly's works need no commendation ... the style is so good,
+the narrative so engrossing, and the tone so excellent.'--_John Bull_.
+
+LITTLE PRESCRIPTION, and other Tales. With 6 Illustrations by W. H.
+Petherick and others. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A worthy successor of some charming little volumes of the same
+kind.... The tale from which the title is taken is for its grace and
+pathos an especial favourite.'--_Spectator_.
+
+'Mrs. O'Reilly could not write otherwise than well, even if she were to
+try.'--_Morning Post_.
+
+CICELY'S CHOICE, A Story for Girls. With a Frontispiece by J. A.
+Pasquier. Fcap. 8vo. gilt edges, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'A pleasant story.... It is a book for girls, and grown people will
+also enjoy reading it.'--_Athenaeum_.
+
+'A pleasant, well-written, interesting story, likely to be acceptable
+to young people who are in their teens.'--_Scotsman_.
+
+GILES'S MINORITY; or, Scenes at the Red House. With 8 Illustrations.
+16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'In one of our former reviews we praised "Deborah's Drawer." "Giles's
+Minority" no less deserves our goodwill. It is a picture of
+school-room life, and is so well drawn that grown-up readers may
+delight in it. In literary excellence this little book is above most of
+its fellows.'--_Times_.
+
+DOLL WORLD; or, Play and Earnest. A Study from Real Life. With 8
+Illustrations. By C. A. Saltmarsh. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It is a capital child's book, and it has a charm for grown-up people
+also, as the fairy haze of "long-ago" brightens every page. We are not
+ashamed to confess to the "thrilling interest" with which we followed
+the history of "Robertina" and "Mabel."'--_Athenaeum_.
+
+DEBORAH'S DRAWER. With 9 Illustrations. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'Any godmamma who wishes to buy an unusually pretty and
+artistically-written gift-book for an eight-year-old pet cannot do
+better than spend a florin or two on the contents of "Aunt Deborah's
+Drawer."'--_Athenaeum_.
+
+DAISY'S COMPANIONS; or, Scenes from Child Life. A Story for Little
+Girls. With 8 Illustrations. 3rd Edit. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'If anybody wants a pretty little present for a pretty (and good)
+little daughter, or a niece or grand-daughter, we cannot recommend a
+better or tastier one than "Daisy's Companions."'--_Times_.
+
+                   _Captain Marryats Books for Boys_.
+
+     Uniform Illustrated Edition, neatly bound in cloth, post 8vo.
+               3_s_. 6_d_. each; gilt edges, 4_s_. 6_d_.
+
+POOR JACK. With Sixteen            | THE SETTLERS IN CANADA.
+ Illustrations after Designs by    |  With Illustrations by
+ Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.          |  Gilbert and Dalziel.
+THE MISSION; or, Scenes in         | THE PRIVATEERSMAN.
+ Africa. With Illustrations by     |  Adventures by Sea and Land in
+ John Gilbert.                     |  Civil and Savage Life One
+THE PIRATE, AND THREE              |  Hundred Years Ago. Illustrated
+ CUTTERS. With Memoir of the       |  with Eight Steel Engravings.
+ Author, and 20 Steel Engravings   | MASTERMAN READY; or, the
+ by Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.       |  Wreck of the Pacific.
+  Cheap Edition, without           |  Embellished with Ninety-three
+  Illustrations, 1_s_. 6_d_.       |  Engravings on Wood.
+
+A BOY'S LOCKER. A Smaller Edition of Captain Marryat's Books for Boys,
+in 12 vols. Fcap. 8vo. in a compact cloth box, 21_s_.
+
+                     _By Hans Christian Andersen_.
+
+FAIRYTALES AND SKETCHES. Translated by C. C. Peachey, H. Ward, A.
+Plesner, &c. With 104 Illustrations by Otto Speckter and others. Crown
+8vo. 6_s_.
+
+'The translation most happily hits the delicate quaintness of
+Andersen--most happily transposes into simple English words the tender
+precision of the famous story-teller; in a keen examination of the book
+we scarcely recall a single phrase or turn that obviously could have
+been bettered.'--_Daily Telegraph_.
+
+TALES FOR CHILDREN. With 48 Full-page Illustrations by Wehnert, and 57
+Small Engravings on Wood by W. Thomas. A new Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s_.
+
+This and the above volume form the most complete English Edition of
+Andersen's Tales.
+
+LATER TALES. Translated from the Danish by Augusta Plesner and H. Ward.
+With Illustrations by Otto Speckter, W. Cooper, and other Artists.
+Cloth gilt, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+WONDERWORLD. A Collection of Fairy Tales, Old and New. Translated from
+the French, German, and Danish. With 4 Coloured Illustrations and
+numerous Woodcuts by L. Richter, Oscar Pletsch, and others. Royal 16mo.
+cloth, gilt edges, 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'It will delight the children, and has in it a wealth of wisdom that
+may be of practical service when they have grown into men and
+women.'--_Literary World_.
+
+GUESSING STORIES; or, The Surprising Adventures of the Man with the
+Extra Pair of Eyes. By the late Archdeacon Freeman. 3rd Edition, 2_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+GRIMM'S GAMMER GRETHEL; or, German Fairy Tales and Popular Stories.
+Translated by Edgar Taylor. Numerous Woodcuts after G. Cruikshank's
+designs. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+LITTLE PLAYS FOR LITTLE PEOPLE; with Hints for Drawing-room
+Performances. By Mrs. Chisholm, Author of 'Rana, the Story of a Frog.'
+16mo. with Illustrations, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+ROBINSON CRUSOE. With a Biographical Account of Defoe. Illustrated with
+70 Wood Engravings, chiefly after Designs by Harvey; and 12 Engravings
+on Steel after Stothard. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. By E. Wetherell. With 10 Illustrations. Post 8vo.
+3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By H. B. Stowe. Illustrated. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+KIRSTIN'S ADVENTURES. A Story of Jutland Life. By the Author of
+'Casimir the Little Exile,' &c. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+'There is so much true art and natural talent in the book that we are
+half inclined to take it away from the boys and girls for whom it is
+written.'--_Times_.
+
+KATIE; or, the Simple Heart. By D. Richmond, Author of 'Annie
+Maitland.' Illustrated by M. I. Booth. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+'The family life which surrounds Katie is both pretty and natural. The
+tone is good, and the plot--we speak from experience--engages a child's
+interest with almost too keen a sympathy.'--_Guardian_.
+
+QUEENS OF ENGLAND from the Norman Conquest. By A. Strickland. An
+Abridged Edition, with Portrait of Matilda of Flanders. In 1 vol. crown
+8vo. cloth, 6_s_. 6_d_.
+
+GLIMPSES INTO PET-LAND. By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A., F.L.S. With
+Frontispiece. Fcap. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+FRIENDS IN FUR AND FEATHERS. By Gwynfryn. Illustrated with 8 Full-page
+Engravings by F. W. Keyl, &c. 5th Edition. Handsomely bound, 3_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+'We have already characterised some other book as the best cat-and-dog
+book of the season. We said so because we had not seen the present
+little book, which is delightful. It is written on an artistic
+principle, consisting of actual biographies of certain elephants,
+squirrels, blackbirds, and what not, who lived in the flesh; and we
+only wish that human biographies were always as entertaining and
+instructive.'--_Saturday Review_.
+
+INSECT ARCHITECTURE. By Rennie. Edited by the Rev. J. G. Wood, Author
+of 'Homes Without Hands.' Post 8vo. with nearly 200 Illustrations,
+5_s_.
+
+THE ENTERTAINING NATURALIST. By Mrs. Loudon. Revised and enlarged by W.
+S. Dallas, F.L.S. With nearly 500 Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
+
+ANECDOTES OF DOGS. By Edward Jesse. With Illustrations. Post 8vo.
+cloth, 5_s_. With 34 Steel Engravings after Cooper, Landseer, &c. 7_s_.
+6_d_.
+
+NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. By Gilbert White. Edited by Jesse.
+Illustrated with 40 Engravings. Post 8vo. 5_s_.; or, with the Plates
+Coloured, 7_s_. 6_d_.
+
+CHARADES, ENIGMAS, AND RIDDLES. Collected by a Cantab. 5th Edition,
+enlarged. Illustrated. Fcap. 8vo. 1_s_.
+
+POETRY-BOOK FOR SCHOOLS, illustrated with 37 highly finished Engravings
+by C. W. Cope, R.A., W. Helmsley, S. Palmer, F. Skill, G. Thomas, and
+H. Weir. Crown 8vo. gilt, 2_s_. 6_d_.; cloth, 1_s_.
+
+GILES WITHERNE; or, the Reward of Disobedience. A Village Tale for the
+Young. By the Rev. J. P. Parkinson, D.C.L. 6th Edition. Illustrated by
+the Rev. F. W. Mann. Super-royal 16mo. 1_s_.
+
+THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. By John Bunyan. With 281 Engravings from
+Designs by William Harvey. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+OLD NURSERY RHYMES AND CHIMES. Collected and arranged by a Peal of
+Bells. Fcap. 4to. Ornamental binding, 2_s_. 6_d_.
+
+NURSERY CAROLS. By the Rev. Dr. Monsell, Rector of St. Nicholas,
+Guildford, with upwards of 100 Illustrations by Ludwig Richter and
+Oscar Pletsch. Imp. 16mo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
+
+'At once a poet and a child lover, full of fun and yet disposed gently
+to instil what is good, Dr. Monsell is inimitable in this particular
+department.'--_John Bull_.
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+                                LONDON:
+
+                 GEORGE BELL & SONS, York Street,
+
+                             Covent Garden.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing, by
+Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF LESSING ***
+
+***** This file should be named 33435.txt or 33435.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/4/3/33435/
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/33435.zip b/33435.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d6b417
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33435.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d9a27c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #33435 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33435)