 | A Messiah |  |
ACT II
Scene I
The seashore beyond Smyrna. On the stony coast oleanders press their bloom together. It is dawn. A tall, winged, glancing figure is pacing the edges of the waves beside Sabbataï.Sabbataï
(stopping; then turning to front the figure).
Who art thou?
The Figure.
Gabriel.
Sabbataï.
Oh, then, thou bringest tidings of my God:
Thou art ever in His presence.
The Figure.
Thou art closer
To Him than I. He feeds thee from His fountains.
Sabbataï.
From the most secret places of the rocks
With the water that sprang forth at Moses' stroke.
Angel, I cannot show the world this fountain;
It makes green, silent pastures in my heart,
The song that beamed through David's blood, the springtide
That blossoms through these withies as a rose.
I have no speech—I am where silence is—
By rising from the sea, as the sun rises
Apparent on his journey with no sound.
I have no voice.... Can there be voices, angel,
For anything we feel, our sleep, our waking,
The changes in us when we love, we die?
I have no tongue—
My hour is secret ... and the world athirst.
The Figure.
Speak, O Messiah, what is in your heart!
This perfect morning God would have you choose,
Taking no counsel, your devoted path,
As birds raise up their wings.
Sabbataï.
If He had told me!
What need, O Gabriel, you should leave His throne
If this had welled up in me?
The Figure.
It has welled—
That thou shouldst sail in a Saic barque,
Garnished with gold that men may mark;
Shouldst sail away to the Soldan's land,
And to sound of shawms take in thy hand
The crown of the world from the Soldan's head,
Thyself being crowned and no blood shed,
No crying from those that are slaughtered,
And no silence from those that are dead.
Atone, that for thy tarrying and thy doubt
I left God's presence.
Sabbataï.
Hie thee to the Throne.
My dream is given me. I will go alone
To the sound of music—
No, Messiah, thou
Must lead the people to thy music now.
Call the Musicians—
Call the Mariners ...
[The Figure vanishes.
Sabbataï
(extending his arm toward the sea).
God, thou hast sent thy Angel Gabriel
To quicken me: Thou grievest me in this.
Thou sendest forth thy messengers to men
To warn them or forbid: to thine elect
Thou art as the sparkle in the diamond,
That has no entrance ...
[Nachmonides, in his black cloak and turban, comes along the shore with feeble steps. Sabbataï meets him.
Ah, Nachmonides!
I could embrace these towers of rose.
[Pointing to the shrubs.
What breath
Of roses and death and nard!—I have my dream.
Nachmonides.
Rabbi, we have seen your faith:
what is your dream?
Sabbataï.
Messiah's dream—to live the prophecies.
Nachmonides.
Messiah is the whole of the prophecies.
Think not of fulfilment if indeed you are
chosen. Rabbi, do not tempt God. Prophecies
come unto men—the cranes fly back to announce
the spring, but spring appears when the hour is
come. What joy of face you have! Can prophecies
awake such dominion?
The prophecy of Nathan—
That I shall take the world with harmony
From all the instruments of string and vent,
Issuing their deep compulsion; that the Soldan
Shall let my hands discrown him, as the year,
With horns, with blaring trumpet, abdicates
To the new year of time. I sail, Nachmonides.
God bids me sail—sail with dispassioned music—
Then lead the Soldan captive to the river
Sabbation, then lead my people homeward
To Holy Land.... It is the prophecy.
Nachmonides.
But where are the words of the antique
prophets? Is there in Torah the naming
of your river Sabbation? Elijah, Isaiah! What
have they to do with the Soldan Mohammed?
What with Nathan Ghazati?
Sabbataï.
The Kabbala, Nachmonides, to me
Is more profoundly open than to any,
Even than to Chayim Vital: it foretells
The triumph of the Holy King, my triumph.
You are a Talmudist—your eyes are blind.
Nachmonides.
Ah, Rabbi—that book of destruction,
that nurse of falsehood, your Kabbala—would
you had never unrolled it!
Sabbataï.
Never without the treasures of its sea
Had I been called and given the voice of God!
Why take my spirit from me, unbeliever?
Why come on gladness as deficiency?
Go to your sick! Farewell, Nachmonides.
Nachmonides.
God's blessing preserve you, Rabbi!
down among his patients; but, stretched on his
back, he would praise you as full of life, yet warn
you as nourishing death—to his subtle eyesight
even at this moment unconcealed—he would
instruct of the remedies, as thus: to stay in
Smyrna, to put a foot on no vessel for any port;
to burn your Kabbala with flame of fire, and let
the light within you shine out as a pharos.
Sabbataï.
God's angel has been with me out of heaven:
As from God's lips I am breathed on for this sailing.
The stress of Gabriel's pinion bore my doom.
Nachmonides.
I would I were laid on my back;
but behold, I am standing on feeble legs—and
Messiah needs no physician. Well, Rabbi, God
be with you!
Scene II
Smyrna.Outside Chelibi's house. To the left the last column of the portico stands out against sea and sky from the wall of the house itself that makes an angle. In the thickness of this wall a narrow door is just seen. A table stands in the shade of the house. From the column toward the right, a low marble wall with a marble seat along it runs in
Child.
Play with us, lord. You are dull, left alone.
Play with us!
Sabbataï.
Shall I be your king?
Child.
If you will watch us running races—
If you will give us crowns ...
Sabbataï.
You choose—?
[The children gather round him and speak in chorus.
Children.
We choose you for our king,
We choose you!
We will bring you in our hands
The little tortoise for caressing,
And to receive your blessing.
We will take you by the hand
To see where the tall swans stand.
Have you guessed
Where is their nest?
We will draw you into our own land.
You shall watch with us where blue larks in the sky
We will leave you—and by-and-by
Rush down on you with a cry.
It shall rock in the palace as if the stones should cry,
For you are our king,
We choose you,
And we love you best:
You shall play with us for ever,
We will not loose you,
We love you best.
Sabbataï
(caressing the children).
Fetch me the little tortoise—Chayim, you!
It shall receive my blessing.
[The lad runs off.
Zeuna, keep
For me the secret where the swan has built
Her nest.... Come hither, little ones!
[He feeds them with Turkish Delight.
What chicks ... what little, lusting mouths,
Smeared with the sweet, and happy.... More, but more!
[Nathan Ghazati enters with the Kings Isaac Silvera and Mokiah Gaspar, who retire sullenly to the seat above the vessel, while Nathan stands before Sabbataï. The children play a little with Sabbataï's fingers and fringes— then shyly creep away.
Nathan.
Master, what has not been revealed to
start this day. The Children of the Promise
must be led to their Kingdom. Lo, the Lion of
Judah in a light skiff, sets sail in my vision:
the sea is wide, 'mid the aura from the sea a moon
in its last quarter and crowned above its crescent
is sinking for ever. The waves of the wide sea
are churned by the vessel. You must start
to-day.
Sabbataï
(drawing Nathan down beside him).
Your eyes are full of spotted fire, my Nathan!
How can I start till the false prophet come
I have commanded to my royal presence?
Your vision signs not of to-day—to-morrow
I sail, nor leave an enemy behind,
Even with a dream in front.
How fresh the waves!
How fresh they curl along, how exquisite
This waiting is—as when a rose-tree waits
The breath and the disparting of the rose!
Do not the waves fold over, fold aside
To whisper one another of this voyage?
What buoyancy is in them, a delight
As buoyant to my limbs as they would bear me
Without a ship to haven ...
[He turns, taking a fresh position as he picks little stones from the wall.
Exquisite
This waiting, this delay! No more to do
Be thronged and bustling and the people mad,
No matter! Infinite in blue
The dawning, infinite the eve in light.
[Nathan rises impatiently as Primo enters from the house with two Poles.
Primo.
These worthy men, Isaiah Levi and Leb Hertz ...
Sabbataï
(embracing them).
But we remember.... Welcome, brethren, welcome!
Are you not sent by Nehemiah Cohen?
Does he obey our mandate?
1st Pole.
We are his heralds. He accepts with
delight your invitation. He would see you, for
we have described to him your glory; we recounted
to him the miracle.
Sabbataï.
What miracle?
2nd Pole.
The marvellous help you afforded the
Jews of Jerusalem, paying the full impost out of
Egypt as from your own purse.
Sabbataï
(smiling).
You are believers?
1st Pole.
We would be believers in the true Messiah.
We would hear. Nehemiah is very learned in
dispute—he is solid.
[Primo is summoned within.
Sabbataï
(clouding).
We will set his doubts at rest.
He shall be our forerunner, our herald—not our
enemy.
Accompany these strangers to my ship. There is
the miracle!
[Exeunt.
Nathan
(hiding his face on the wall).
O Master, you
are my despair! On me the burthen! I curse
you as I should curse the child unravelling a
drag-net for the waters. Rabbi, you will ruin me
in your ruin. All your Kings are in revolt.
Sabbataï
(stroking Nathan's head).
I do not love
my Kings, my black-haired, my beloved.
Nathan.
If you loved me—if you knew....
Master, for two hours I have been soothing the
Kings, I have been describing to them their
dominions that you might not be tortured. All
I can say to them now but incites them. Your
mariners curse you on the beach.
Sabbataï.
Nathan has cursed me.
Nathan.
I have cursed your mariners! I tell you
there is treason in the port. The city is weary of
you; you are a fly sticking in its honey. These
sleek Poles to whom you are so soft, speak of
another Messiah, who comes with the keen lips of
a sword.... Master, we are a downtrodden
people: we may not walk the streets save in the
badge of our shame, we may not deck our wives,
we may not make beautiful our houses or lift our
voices from their roofs in psalmody. Are you not
a Jew? But you do not feel the deep rancour
in your heart. You make terms with the English
merchants—they approve you as honest. You
When Messiah comes he will strike upward as
with a people from underground ...
[Chelibi approaches.
Sabbataï.
I am being chidden, Chelibi.
Chelibi.
Our good prophet is impatient, but his
impatience is honourable. Your train is very
burdensome to Smyrna. Kings without kingdoms
are a very troublesome kind of kings—they make
subjects of every honest citizen. They sweep up
tribute, and the traffic of the bazaars is stopped.
Our little Smyrna is incommoded; and to speak
truth, there is nothing so incommodious as a
project. I would have you leave, dear Rabbi,
before the Cadi and his Turkish officers force you
to leave us. Be advised.
Sabbataï.
Chelibi, Nehemiah is at our gates; you
are hospitable. Did you not provide my marriage-feast?
Nehemiah has travelled very far at my
bidding. Go within, prepare the table for my foe.
[Sabbataï turns dreamily to the sea and whistles—then turns to Nathan.
If this should be Messiah—Ephraim Messiah, the
forerunner! I shall know when I see him!
I shall know if he is beloved of God. He says I
have had no forerunner—that is true ...
Nathan
(shaking his fist at Sabbataï).
You have
called me your Elijah, you have said.... But I
will defeat this Nehemiah, I will defeat his wiles.
Ephraim-Messiahs. I will make merry with this
squat-faced German. I will make him foolish in
your presence.
Sabbataï.
Dear Nathan, if he hate me, I shall laugh
at him. I do not laugh at my lovers. It is
serious if any man love me; and he becomes of
account at once.
No, Primo, I will not see the Rabbis from Jerusalem—
No, nor the deputation from Cairo—
No, nor the inquirers from Pesth—
No, nor the meddlesome flatterers from Spain, I will not see them. Leave me!
Primo
(bowing more low).
Master, it is I, your
anxious secretary and your devoted servant—I
present myself humbly to remind you that it
is the year of millennium, that the year has
dawned.
Nathan.
It is the year of millennium ...
Sabbataï.
Then it is millennium as harvest-time is
harvest.... Let me be at peace.
[Primo goes back three steps, then turns.
Primo.
Master, I have told your mariners it is the
year of the millennium, and they aver the wind is
most favourable—a choice wind, but a temporary ...
Sabbataï.
The wind is too favourable, I would start
in a western gale.
Primo stands.
An officer from the Cadi awaits your leisure.
Sabbataï.
Leisure—but is not a god all leisure?
Is not a god always at his ease? You suppose
him all ear!—meanwhile he conducts his car
through the heavens.
Primo
(more stolidly).
The Cadi demands that in
three days you set sail.
Sabbataï.
Would he break the poise of the millennium
with a threat? Send away these malcontents,
tell them all things are possible with
God. Send them away—let them broider banners,
let them broider banners with the word Millennium
writ large.
Primo.
And the believers ...
Sabbataï.
The believers are maddening me! But
my ship! I will go down to the quay. They
have brought her round.
Primo.
Nehemiah?
[Shaking himself free, Sabbataï descends the steps. The lad Chayim, with a tortoise in his arms, looks round the square, catches sight of Sabbataï and runs after him.
Nathan.
So God eludes us! And I stretched forth
my arms to him.
Primo.
He should prepare—he should turn to the
Kabbala, the Talmud, all the Holy Books; this
German comes to prove him vain by texts and
long disputations. But I forget! He is Messiah
and furnished of God. I must satisfy the officer,
give them.
[Rubio slides up with a bag of money and a crate of Syrian apples. He lays them down and offers an apple to Primo.
Rubio.
A fruit!
Primo.
Put it down; these are offerings to
God.
Rubio
(chewing).
The Master does not eat.
Primo.
And this sack of treasure?
Rubio.
That too is an offering.
Primo.
O beggar Rubio, and the Master does not
prize it!
Rubio.
That is the Master's weakness. Treasure is
treasure. The Lord God hid his treasure in the
bowels of the earth; we touch his secret when we
discover gold.
Primo.
No, Rubio, God's secret is his Messiah.
Rubio.
The Messiah is the key that unlocks His
secret.
Primo.
You have no sign—save the sign of the
prophet Jonah, the whale—the infinite capacity of
swallowing.
Rubio.
Who, then, is the wonder-worker—Jonah or
the whale?
Primo.
Answer as you will after your kind. But
treasure is treasure—there you have said the word.
[Exit, snatching the sack.
[Rubio advances to Nathan, his hands open.
Nathan.
Still at your old occupation?
Still at my old occupation! No treasure
for me! Give me my kingdom, give me Turkey—
Turkey in Europe and Turkey in Asia, they are
both mine, and I have refused a thousand pounds
for each.
Nathan.
A fool and his kingdoms! Peace, beggar!
Rubio.
If nothing is to alter ... and I hear there
is much disputing whether the Master even has
power to sweep away the great Fast-day—it has
set up a party against him and men grumble—if
we are to suffer in our stomachs and for our sins,
well ...
Let us serve the Queen, the Queen of Pleasure,
who moves among men with no denial on her lips!
Let me have alms of the Queen!
[He holds up his hands to her.
Zarah.
Rubio, dear Rubio—what were you saying
—there is disaffection in the city?
Nathan.
They say Sabbataï is no Messiah—there
must be a forerunner, the light of the morning-star
must shine before the morning. Nehemiah proclaims
himself this forerunner. He does not know
I am Elijah, grown young to proclaim the Anointed
King to all the Kings of the world and to all the
peoples.
Zarah.
Nathan, you are that prophet; but Nehemiah
is the forerunner of Sabbataï—the poor and
humble Messiah who comes to make ready the
him that.
Nathan.
Ah—guile of a woman! we shall appoint
him that. We shall give him the title.
Rubio.
Have you noticed he makes the Master
uneasy?
Zarah.
O Rubio, yes. Sabbataï is of so meek a
spirit he doubts if he is chosen. And to doubt if
one is chosen.... If he were confident as I!
Rubio, in the cloister, when I was but a little
stubborn thing of six, I said to the nuns, ‘I am
the bride of God.’ When our Lord rose from the
sea he had no higher exaltation. One can
adventure all things, if it is firm in one's heart like
that.
[Nehemiah Cohen and his attendants approach across the court, travel-stained.
Nathan.
Peace, Nehemiah!
[Zarah lifts the golden cymbals that hang from her girdle.
Zarah.
I acclaim you!
I have acclaimed you long. O grief
That you delayed! You are put high among
The prophets: Nehemiah, you are strong;
We are waiting for your voice, there is a song
So soft we cannot hear it, till among
The waters of the valley. Come, O Chief,
Make straight the pathway for the world's belief—
Prepare men on the earth for Paradise.
Nehemiah.
Lady, I am
I am the Lord's forerunner, and to death
Will serve and follow him. When I shall see him,
I shall determine if your lord is he.
[Looking round keenly.
Let him be summoned ... for he is not here.
Nathan.
But you cannot judge, you cannot determine.
It is for our Lord to judge you and to
appoint you!
Nehemiah.
I am not here to take favour of your
Master; I am here to put your Master to the test.
[Zarah has retired, but now advances with a little dish of grapes and wine—a slave follows with basin, ewer and towels.
Zarah.
You are weary; eat, refresh yourself. We
must abide our Lord's pleasure. He will return
when he will. Meanwhile, you must refresh
yourself.
(To attendants.)
Bring water!
Nehemiah
(unnerved).
Not you ... the slaves!
Zarah.
I am his Queen and you are a guest long-honoured,
long-expected, long-foretold, long-waited
for!
(Pouring water on his feet.)
He bade
me honour and give you comfort. You have
travelled far!
Nehemiah.
This lady is his wife?
Zarah
(laughing).
Oh, if a prophet—
Can you not instantly discern, and would
One whom he did not honour as his spouse
Stoop thus, thus condescend?
Nehemiah.
You are beautiful
My thanks ... and pass within.
Zarah.
But you will eat;
But you are weary, and I am your hostess.
Speak to me of your journey.
Nehemiah.
If your lord
Be true Messiah I abide your servant;
If not ...
Zarah.
What faith
You have, what knowledge! You will be his servant
On the instant when you see him. You were mine
On the instant when you saw me.
[She offers him grapes one by one, checking him with the fruit when he strives to speak.
Nathan.
Dare you question,
Dare you deny our holy Lord?
Nehemiah
(roughly and vehemently rising).
Deny him!
I find him not in Torah nor in Talmud.
Nathan.
Nor in the Sacred Kabbala?
Nehemiah.
The law
And prophets being dumb, your Kabbala
Is rhapsody—
Nathan.
Cristallomantia never
Showed clearer what should be to the purged eyes.
[Sabbataï has entered, climbing listlessly up in front of the Poles. Suddenly he rushes towards Nehemiah, catches him by the shoulders, drinks in his nature with one grip of scrutiny—and then flings him away, laughing long.
No, this is not Messiah—feel him, feel him!
He has too hard a skin. No, he is clay,
And earnestness and truth and reason—all
You are acquainted with, all that you suffered.
He is not chosen—see! Heaven loves the vine
And leads its tendrils garlanding; Heaven feeds
With butter and with honey—delicate
Is Heaven's nurture. But this saviour reeks,
His breath is stinking—he revolts ... uncleanly
And vile his garments.
Nehemiah.
Do you spit on me?
The scroll, the scroll!
... It is affirmed that there is prophecy—
A secret prophecy that names your name.
If that is proved, then you are no impostor.
Show me the parchment. If it smell too old—
Sabbataï.
Then were the parchment false?
Nehemiah.
No, you are false,
And no Messiah. I have knowledge of him,
He is upon the road. It was revealed
To me at Lemberg—thrust into my soul:
My heart was eaten up
With lust for the Messiah, to behold him
Treading the winepress, and to tread it, tread
The winepress with him. Can you tread it out?
I come from massacre, from shreds and strips
Of my tormented people ... where they dwell
Wild beasts are ravening. Cossacks plough their way
Sent me sleek messages, I should have vengeance.
Your message was delivered, but the Poles
Told me that you were stepping, as a woman
Steps, delicately; told me of your butter,
Your honey and your cates. But vengeance,
Vengeance must feed us! Can you give us vengeance;
Say, can you tread the press?
[Sabbataï looks forth blankly.
Sabbataï.
There must be suffering
And patience and forlornness.... I will send
Alms to my people—I have riches.
(In a very gentle voice.)
Prophet,
Let us not be too vehement. In haste
I am preparing to take ship and conquer
The earth.... There may be rites, Ephraim Messiah,
You say, must come—Ephraim with many griefs.
It may be you are he. But enter!
[Sabbataï goes within.
Nehemiah.
Vengeance
Is what I seek and where the law burns red.
[Showing a back of dogged hostility he moves toward the inner door through which Sabbataï has passed. Before Nehemiah has reached it, Sabbataï springs forth, a pot of clay in his arms.
Sabbataï.
Here is the vessel
[Setting down the curious old pot and plunging his hand in it.
Here is the scroll,
Here is the test you put.... Examine it!
You Nathan, Nehemiah, you—two lawyers.
Nehemiah.
Old is it? I would see—
Sabbataï.
Sit down and wrangle.
[He throws the scroll on the table; Nehemiah savagely holds it up to the light, then claws it.
He fastens as an eagle on his prey....
(Turning to the sea.)
I could creep off,
And in a little pinnace with my harp
Make melody to God and leave His billows
To waft me on His pleasure....
(Bending over the puzzled, angry heads.)
Sorrow!
But these will never be redeemed; in strife
And bitterness they wander all their days.
Nehemiah
(turning back to Sabbataï).
The edges are too curled;
The style is cramped. Where was the parchment found?
Sabbataï.
I do not know. The form
Is of an amphora, a tawny-bowled,
Dark vessel, and with wine to cheer the dead.
(To Nathan.)
Was it not in a tomb—do you remember?
Yachini found this testament?
Nehemiah.
Yachini!
He sends neat transcripts of the ancient writings
For Christian use.
Nathan.
Out of a tomb,
Closed in a den of unfrequented grass,
It came, Messiah. Abraham Yachini
Was moved within his entrails, deep-inspired
To rending of the ancient turf. Within ...
Sabbataï.
Oh, let me read!
(Pointing at Nehemiah.)
Are you a Kabbalist?
Nehemiah.
Read to the people—to the French, the English,
The traders from the north—
And are there any Germans at your court?
Read—we all listen!
[He turns the pot slowly round, dipping his finger in spittle and wetting the clay,
Sabbataï
(reading).
‘I, Ben Abraham,
Shut up for forty years within a cave,
Was sorrowful,
And dreaming in my slumber had no peace
For wonder that the time of miracles
Tarried so long, so long delayed the day
Of restoration; then a voice broke forth—
One shall be born and speedily, his name
Is Sabbataï; he shall quell the Dragon,
He is the true Messiah,
He shall wage war—he shall be weaponless.’
I like this prophecy. See, Nehemiah,
There must be no blood-shedding.
Nehemiah.
But the earth
Must drip with blood, the border of each garment
Must bear it for a rusty hem, before
The chosen people can ride forth as kings;
And if you are not come to bring a sword
Your coming is no more than yonder flight
Of pigeons in the air.
(Turning to the people.)
This earth is baked—
New-baked as bread for Sabbath use. This scripture
Smacks too much of the common tongue.
Sabbataï.
It needs
The Kabbala—it needs interpretation,
The living breath of knowledge. What is speech
Without interpretation? What is knowledge,
If not the interpretation of the wise?
We have about us earth and sky and ocean—
We are but set in them as animals,
That bark or hinny or get provender,
And cannot re-create the parable,
And have no inkling of the mystery
Of how things shudder and impinge and draw
The universe along by violence,
By stealth, by signs, by deepest machination.
O Nehemiah, you are crude—
Nehemiah.
The Scriptures
Are crude ... I know not; they are honest scriptures.
Before you all, I tread it underfoot,
I spit on it.
[There are howls of execration. Nehemiah is roughly handled—the Sabbataïans close round him.
Sabbataï.
What beasts are these, what beasts!
Unloose the prophet,
Set him aside! I challenge
His liberty, I challenge all men's acts.
This earthen pot is of a thousand years
Or is of yesterday—all evidence
Is false, all knowledge of the nature
Of the dew or of the manna on the ground.
My Kings, I have taken heart!
[Flinging the earthen pot away.
We will adventure
Our mystery at once—we will put forth,
You, my musicians, you, my mariners,
And to the sound of music will set sail;
With ritual will receive the Soldan's crown.
(To Nathan.)
Marshal my Kings—advance! I am Messiah.
Within the uttermost places of the sea
I prayed; there was I wrought, and, being human,
Wrought into God; the Name was wrought in me.
You say I spoke it—that was chance, the action
Was irresistible, was as the waves
That rise and chafe and must be waves against
The wind and rocks, but in themselves are silent
The waves supported me; there was my faith.
I am Messiah. Men may write false scriptures:
I am Messiah! I commend myself
Once more to the great sea. The Law is done,
The Law is cast away and by new tracks
The very stars are guided. I believe!
Stream with me to the sea.... That heretic,
The verjuice of dissension, that maligner—
A pest, a Gog or Magog, a shame-faced,
Convicted leper—oh, escape from him,
As I escape.... Musicians, there is scent
Of the sea upon my garments.
Zarah
(at his feet).
There is scent
And fragrance of the sea.
Sabbataï.
Follow me, follow!
Children, I know not whither we shall sail.
The music is more distant, but it leaps.
I have knowledge of the sailing; of the port;
I have no further knowledge—Follow me!
[They all gather to Messiah. He leads them in procession down the steps to the harbour. The musicians descend last singing.
Musicians.
Hail, all hail
To the golden sail,
Hail to the Mariner that has no port,
To the King that has no crown.
Hail to the spirits free,
Stretching their sail to the limitless sea!
The triumph, the laughter, the scorn
Round the skiff forlorn
Of the golden sail!
Down, down,
Follow the King that has no crown,
Follow the sail,
Follow the light of its wings on the gale,
Till the night come and the glory fail.
[All pass out except Nahan Ghazati, who picks up the fragments of the scroll and the potsherds close to Nehemiah.
Nehemiah.
Hot youth, remain with me.
Nathan.
Are you Messiah?
[Facing Nehemiah, who has turned to leave the courtyard in the opposite direction to the harbour.
Where are you going? Do you think to do him a
mischief—and he has given you your life and
liberty? But you shall not betray him to the
Turk—dog!—you shall not.
[Nehemiah springs aside from the flash of Nathan's dagger—then runs across the court, a fugitive.
Nehemiah.
There shall be no false Messiah. I see at
last what I am. I have business with the Cadi.
[Nathan stares after him, grasping the tattered scroll to his breast, his feet bleeding from the potsherds.
| A Messiah | |