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.