’Twas at Darun you met me with the child; But you will not have known that a few days Before, the Christians murdered every Jew in Gath, Woman and child; that among these, my wife With seven hopeful sons were found, who all Beneath my brother’s roof which they had fled to, Were burnt alive. FRIAR. Just God! NATHAN. And when you came, Three nights had I in dust and ashes lain Before my God and wept—aye, and at times Arraigned my maker, raged, and cursed myself And the whole world, and to Christianity Swore unrelenting hate. FRIAR. Ah, I believe you. NATHAN. But by degrees returning reason came, She spake with gentle voice—And yet God is, And this was his decree—now exercise What thou hast long imagined, and what surely Is not more difficult to exercise Than to imagine—if thou will it once. I rose and called out—God, I will—I will, So thou but aid my purpose—And behold You was just then dismounted, and presented To me the child wrapt in your mantle. What You said, or I, occurs not to me now— Thus much I recollect—I took the child, I bore it to my couch, I kissed it, flung Myself upon my knees and sobbed—my God, Now have I one out of the seven again! FRIAR. Nathan, you are a Christian! Yes, by God You are a Christian—never was a better. NATHAN. Heaven bless us! What makes me to you a Christian Makes you to me a Jew. But let us cease To melt each other—time is nigh to act, And though a sevenfold love had bound me soon To this strange only girl, though the mere thought, That I shall lose in her my seven sons A second time distracts me—yet I will, If providence require her at my hands, Obey. FRIAR. The very thing I should advise you; But your good genius has forestalled my thought. NATHAN. The first best claimant must not seek to tear Her from me. FRIAR. No most surely not. NATHAN. And he, That has not stronger claims than I, at least Ought to have earlier. FRIAR. Certainly. NATHAN. By nature And blood conferred. FRIAR. I mean so too. NATHAN. Then name The man allied to her as brother, uncle, Or otherwise akin, and I from him Will not withhold her—she who was created And was brought up to be of any house, Of any faith, the glory—I, I hope, That of your master and his race you knew More than myself.