_Dor._ Well; and he trusts you too.
_Bend._ Else I were mad,
To hazard such a daring enterprize.
_Dor._ He trusts us both; mark that!--Shall we betray him;
A master, who reposes life and empire
On our fidelity:--I grant he is a tyrant,
That hated name my nature most abhors:
More,--as you say,--has loaded me with scorn,
Even with the last contempt, to serve Sebastian;
Yet more, I know he vacates my revenge,
Which, but by this revolt, I cannot compass:
But, while he trusts me, 'twere so base a part,
To fawn, and yet betray,--I should be hissed,
And whooped in hell for that ingratitude.
_Bend._ Consider well what I have done for you.
_Dor._ Consider thou, what thou wouldst have me do.
_Bend._ You've too much honour for a renegade.
_Dor._ And thou too little faith to be a favourite.
Is not the bread thou eat'st, the robe thou wear'st,
Thy wealth, and honours, all the pure indulgence
Of him thou would'st destroy?
And would his creature, nay, his friend, betray him?
Why then no bond is left on human kind!
Distrusts, debates, immortal strifes ensue;
Children may murder parents, wives their husbands;
All must be rapine, wars, and desolation,
When trust and gratitude no longer bind.
_Bend._ Well have you argued in your own defence;
You, who have burst asunder all those bonds,
And turned a rebel to your native prince.
_Dor.
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