Читать книгу Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts - Г. Э. Лессинг, Gotthold Ephraim Lessing - Страница 6

Wherefore so absent, brother?  How you play!

Not well?  I thought—

   Yes; very well for me,

Take back that move.

   Why?

      Don’t you see the knight

Becomes exposed?

   ’Tis true: then so.

      And so

I take the pawn.

   That’s true again.  Then, check!

That cannot help you.  When my king is castled

All will be safe.

   But out of my dilemma

’Tis not so easy to escape unhurt.

Well, you must have the knight.

      I will not have him,

I pass him by.

   In that, there’s no forbearance:

The place is better than the piece.

      Maybe.

Beware you reckon not without your host:

This stroke you did not think of.

      No, indeed;

I did not think you tired of your queen.

My queen?

   Well, well!  I find that I to-day

Shall earn a thousand dinars to an asper.

How so, my sister?

   Play the ignorant—

As if it were not purposely thou losest.

I find not my account in ’t; for, besides

That such a game yields very little pastime,

When have I not, by losing, won with thee?

When hast thou not, by way of comfort to me

For my lost game, presented twice the stake?

So that it may have been on purpose, sister,

That thou hast lost at times.

      At least, my brother’s

Great liberality may be one cause

Why I improve no faster.

   We forget

The game before us: lot us make an end of it.

I move—so—now then—check! and check again!

This countercheck I wasn’t aware of, Sittah;

My queen must fall the sacrifice.

      Let’s see—

Could it be helped?

   No, no, take off the queen!

That is a piece which never thrives with me.

Only that piece?

      Off with it!  I shan’t miss it.

Thus I guard all again.

      How civilly

We should behave to queens, my brother’s lessons

Have taught me but too well.

      Take her, or not,

I stir the piece no more.

   Why should I take her?

Check!

   Go on.

      Check!—

      And check-mate?

   Hold! not yet.

You may advance the knight, and ward the danger,

Or as you will—it is all one.

   It is so.

You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.

Let him be called.  Sittah, you was not wrong;

I seem to recollect I was unmindful—

A little absent.  One isn’t always willing

To dwell upon some shapeless bits of wood

Coupled with no idea.  Yet the Imam,

When I play with him, bends with such abstraction—

The loser seeks excuses.  Sittah, ’twas not

The shapeless men, and the unmeaning squares,

That made me heedless—your dexterity,

Your calm sharp eye.

   And what of that, good brother,

Is that to be th’ excuse for your defeat?

Enough—you played more absently than I.

Than you!  What dwells upon your mind, my Sittah?

Not your own cares, I doubt—

      O Saladin,

When shall we play again so constantly?

An interruption will but whet our zeal.

You think of the campaign.  Well, let it come.

It was not I who first unsheathed the sword.

I would have willingly prolonged the truce,

And willingly have knit a closer bond,

A lasting one—have given to my Sittah

A husband worthy of her, Richard’s brother.

You love to talk of Richard.

   Richard’s sister

Might then have been allotted to our Melek.

O what a house that would have formed—the first—

The best—and what is more—of earth the happiest!

You know I am not loth to praise myself;

Why should I?—Of my friends am I not worthy?

O we had then led lives!

   A pretty dream.

It makes me smile.  You do not know the Christians.

You will not know them.  ’Tis this people’s pride

Not to be men, but to be Christians.  Even

What of humane their Founder felt, and taught,

And left to savour their found superstition,

They value not because it is humane,

Lovely, and good for man; they only prize it

Because ’twas Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.

’Tis well for them He was so good a man:

Well that they take His goodness all for granted,

And in His virtues put their trust.  His virtues—

’Tis not His virtues, but His name alone

They wish to thrust upon us—’Tis His name

Which they desire should overspread the world,

Should swallow up the name of all good men,

And put the best to shame.  ’Tis His mere name

They care for—

   Else, my Sittah, as thou sayst,

They would not have required that thou, and Melek,

Should be called Christians, ere you might be suffered

To feel for Christians conjugal affection.

As if from Christians only, and as Christians,

That love could be expected which our Maker

In man and woman for each other planted.

The Christians do believe such idle notions,

They well might fancy this: and yet thou errest.

The templars, not the Christians, are in fault.

’Tis not as Christians, but as templars, that

They thwart my purpose.  They alone prevent it.

They will on no account evacuate Acca,

Which was to be the dower of Richard’s sister,