_Bend._ I thank your kindness.--Guilt had almost lost me. [_Aside._
_Emp._ But clear my doubts:--thinkst thou they may rebel?
_Bend._ This goes as I would wish.-- [_Aside._
'Tis possible:
A secret party still remains, that lurks
Like embers raked in ashes,--wanting but
A breath to blow aside the involving dust,
And then they blaze abroad.
_Emp._ They must be trampled out.
_Bend._ But first be known.
_Emp._ Torture shall force it from them.
_Bend._ You would not put a nation to the rack?
_Emp._ Yes, the whole world; so I be safe, I care not.
_Bend._ Our limbs and lives
Are yours; but mixing friends with foes is hard.
_Emp._ All may be foes; or how to be distinguished,
If some be friends?
_Bend._ They may with ease be winnowed.
Suppose some one, who has deserved your trust,
Some one, who knows mankind, should be employed
To mix among them, seem a malcontent,
And dive into their breasts, to try how far
They dare oppose your love?
_Emp._ I like this well; 'tis wholesome wickedness.
_Bend._ Whomever he suspects, he fastens there,
And leaves no cranny of his soul unsearched;
Then like a bee bag'd with his honeyed venom,
He brings it to your hive;--if such a man,
So able and so honest, may be found;
If not, my project dies.
_Emp._ By all my hopes, thou hast described thyself:
Thou, thou alone, art fit to play that engine,
Thou only couldst contrive.
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