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?