FRIAR. He concludes, That God preserved you for some mighty deed. TEMPLAR. Some mighty deed? To save out of the fire A Jewish girl—to usher curious pilgrims About Mount Sinai—to— FRIAR. The time may come— And this is no such trifle—but perhaps The patriarch meditates a weightier office. TEMPLAR. Think you so, brother? Has he hinted aught? FRIAR. Why, yes; I was to sift you out a little, And hear if you were one to— TEMPLAR. Well—to what? I’m curious to observe how this man sifts. FRIAR. The shortest way will be to tell you plainly What are the patriarch’s wishes. TEMPLAR. And they are— FRIAR. To send a letter by your hand. TEMPLAR. By me? I am no carrier. And were that an office More meritorious than to save from burning A Jewish maid? FRIAR. So it should seem; must seem— For, says the patriarch, to all Christendom This letter is of import; and to bear it Safe to its destination, says the patriarch, God will reward with a peculiar crown In heaven; and of this crown, the patriarch says, No one is worthier than you— TEMPLAR. Than I? FRIAR. For none so able, and so fit to earn This crown, the patriarch says, as you. TEMPLAR. As I? FRIAR. The patriarch here is free, can look about him, And knows, he says, how cities may be stormed, And how defended; knows, he says, the strengths And weaknesses of Saladin’s new bulwark, And of the inner rampart last thrown up; And to the warriors of the Lord, he says, Could clearly point them out;— TEMPLAR. And can I know Exactly the contents of this same letter? FRIAR. Why, that I don’t pretend to vouch exactly— ’Tis to King Philip: and our patriarch— I often wonder how this holy man, Who lives so wholly to his God and heaven, Can stoop to be so well informed about Whatever passes here—’Tis a hard task! TEMPLAR. Well—and your patriarch— FRIAR. Knows, with great precision, And from sure hands, how, when, and with what force, And in which quarter, Saladin, in case The war breaks out afresh, will take the field. TEMPLAR. He knows that? FRIAR.