l
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.