Dor. What means this riddle?

Bend. ’Tis out;—­there needs no OEdipus to solve it. 
Our emperor is a tyrant, feared and hated;
I scarce remember, in his reign, one day
Pass guiltless o’er his execrable head. 
He thinks the sun is lost, that sees not blood: 
When none is shed, we count it holiday. 
We, who are most in favour, cannot call
This hour our own.—­You know the younger brother,
Mild Muley-Zeydan?

Dor. Hold, and let me think.

Bend. The soldiers idolize you;
He trusts you with the castle,
The key of all his kingdom.

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. True, I rebelled:  But when did I betray?—­
Indignities, which man could not support,
Provoked my vengeance to this noble crime;
But he had stripped me first of my command,
Dismissed my service, and absolved my faith;
And, with disdainful language, dared my worst: 
I but accepted war, which he denounced. 
Else had you seen, not Dorax, but Alonzo,
With his couched lance, against your foremost Moors;
Perhaps, too, turned the fortune of the day,
Made Africk mourn and Portugal triumph.

Bend. Let me embrace thee!

Dor. Stand off, sycophant, And keep infection distant.

Bend. Brave and honest!

Dor. In spite of thy temptations.

Bend. Call them, trials;
They were no more.  Thy faith was held in balance,
And nicely weighed by jealousy of power. 
Vast was the trust of such a royal charge: 
And our wise emperor might justly fear,
Sebastian might be freed and reconciled,
By new obligements, to thy former love.