climbers to look back!And may I not
Have grown to such a creature in the state
That my old friendship is no longer welcome?
If you still bear your dervis-heart about you
I’ll run the risk of that. Th’ official robe
Is but your cloak.
A cloak, that claims some honour.
What think’st thou? At a court of thine how great
Had been Al-Hafi?
Nothing but a dervis.
If more, perhaps—what shall I say—my cook.
In order to unlearn my native trade.
Thy cook—why not thy butler too? The Sultan,
He knows me better, I’m his treasurer.
You, you?
Mistake not—of the lesser purse—
His father manages the greater still—
The purser of his household.
That’s not small.
’Tis larger than thou think’st; for every beggar
Is of his household.
He’s so much their foe—
That he’d fain root them out—with food and raiment—
Tho’ he turn beggar in the enterprize.
Bravo, I meant so.
And he’s almost such.
His treasury is every day, ere sun-set,
Poorer than empty; and how high so e’er
Flows in the morning tide, ’tis ebb by noon.
Because it circulates through such canals
As can be neither stopped, nor filled.
Thou hast it.
I know it well.
Nathan, ’tis woeful doing
When kings are vultures amid caresses:
But when they’re caresses amid the vultures
’Tis ten times worse.
No, dervis, no, no, no.
Thou mayst well talk so. Now then, let me hear
What wouldst thou give me to resign my office?
What does it bring you in?
To me, not much;
But thee, it might indeed enrich: for when,
As often happens, money is at ebb,
Thou couldst unlock thy sluices, make advances,
And take in form of interest all thou wilt.
And interest upon interest of the interest—
Certainly.
Till my capital becomes
All interest.
How—that does not take with thee?
Then write a finis to our book of friendship;
For I have reckoned on thee.
How so, Hafi?
That thou wouldst help me to go thro’ my office
With credit, grant me open chest with thee—
Dost shake thy head?
Let’s understand each other.
Here’s a distinction to be made. To you,
To dervis Hafi, all I have is open;
But to the defterdar of Saladin,
To that Al-Hafi—
Spoken like thyself!
Thou hast been ever no less kind than cautious.
The two Al-Hafis thou distinguishest
Shall soon be parted. See this coat of honour,
Which Saladin bestowed—before ’tis worn
To rags, and suited to a dervis’ back,—
Will in Jerusalem hang upon the hook;
While I along the Ganges scorching strand,
Amid my teachers shall be wandering barefoot.
That’s like you.
Or be playing chess among them.
Your sovereign good.
What dost thou think seduced me.
The wish of having not to beg in future—
The pride of acting the rich man to beggars—
Would these have metamorphosed a rich beggar
So suddenly into a poor rich man?
No, I think not.
A sillier, sillier weakness,
For the first time my vanity was tempter,
Flattered by Saladin’s good-hearted notion—
Which was?
That all a beggar’s wants are only
Known to a beggar: such alone can tell
How to relieve them usefully and wisely.
“Thy predecessor was too cold for me,
(He said) and when he gave, he gave unkindly;
Informed himself with too precautious strictness
Concerning the receiver, not content
To leant the want, unless he knew its cause,
And measuring out by that his niggard bounty.
Thou wilt not thus bestow. So harshly kind
Shall Saladin not seem in thee. Thou art not
Like the choked pipe, whence sullied and by spurts
Flow the pure waters it absorbs in silence.
Al-Hafi thinks and feels like me.” So
