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, And, lest their order suffer, use this cant— Bring into play the nonsense of the monk— And scarcely would await the truce’s end To fall upon us. Go on so—go on, To me you’re welcome, sirs. Would all things else Went but as right!
What else should trouble thee, If this do not?
Why, that which ever has. I’ve been on Libanon, and seen our father. He’s full of care.
He can’t make shift, Straitened on all sides, put off, disappointed; Nothing comes in.
What? but the thing I scarcely deign to name, Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems, And, when I have it not, so necessary. Where is Al-Hafi then—this fatal money— O welcome, Hafi!
I suppose the gold From Egypt is arrived.
I? no, not I. I thought to have ta’en it here.
Pay? And not receive—that’s something less than nothing. To Sittah and again to Sittah—and Once more for loss at chess? Is this your game?