Bend. That ever, ever,—­ I marked the double,—­shows extreme reluctance To part with her for ever.

Emp. Right, thou hast me. 
I would, but cannot kill:  I must enjoy her: 
I must, and what I must, be sure I will. 
What’s royalty, but power to please myself? 
And if I dare not, then am I the slave,
And my own slaves the sovereigns:—­’tis resolved. 
Weak princes flatter, when they want the power
To curb their people; tender plants must bend: 
But when a government is grown to strength,
Like some old oak, rough with its armed bark,
It yields not to the tug, but only nods,
And turns to sullen state.

Bend. Then you resolve To implore her pity, and to beg relief?

Emp. Death! must I beg the pity of my slave? 
Must a king beg?—­Yes; love’s a greater king;
A tyrant, nay, a devil, that possesses me: 
He tunes the organs of my voice, and speaks,
Unknown to me, within me; pushes me,
And drives me on by force.—­
Say I should wed her, would not my wise subjects
Take check, and think it strange? perhaps revolt?

Bend. I hope they would not.

Emp. Then thou doubtst they would?

Bend. To whom?

Emp. To her Perhaps,—­or to my brother,—­or to thee.

Bend. [in disorder.]
To me! me, did you mention? how I tremble! 
The name of treason shakes my honest soul. 
If I am doubted, sir,
Secure yourself this moment, take my life.

Emp. No more:  If I suspected thee—­I would.

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.