is it if you know not men?
Yet there you live demure, with down-cast eyes,
And humble as your discipline requires;
But, when let loose from thence to live at large,
Your little tincture of devotion dies:
Then luxury succeeds, and, set agog
With a new scene of yet untasted joys,
You fall with greedy hunger to the feast.
Of all your college virtues, nothing now
But your original ignorance remains;
Bloated with pride, ambition, avarice,
You swell to counsel kings, and govern kingdoms.

_Muf._ He prates as if kings had not consciences,
And none required directors but the crowd.

_Dor._ As private men they want you, not as kings;
Nor would you care to inspect their public conscience,
But that it draws dependencies of power
And earthly interest, which you long to sway;
Content you with monopolizing heaven,
And let this little hanging ball alone:
For, give you but a foot of conscience there,
And you, like Archimedes, toss the globe.
We know your thoughts of us that laymen are,
Lag souls, and rubbish of remaining clay,
Which heaven, grown weary of more perfect work,
Set upright with a little puff of breath,
And bid us pass for men.

_Muf._ I will not answer,
Base foul-mouthed renegade; but I'll pray for thee,
To shew my charity. [_Exit_ MUFTI.

_Dor._ Do; but forget not him who needs it most:
Allow thyself some share.--He's gone too soon;
I had to tell him of his holy jugglings;
Things that would startle faith, and make us deem
Not this, or that, but all religions false.

_Bend._ Our holy orator has lost the cause. [_Aside._
But I shall yet redeem it.--[_To_ DORAX.] Let him go;
For I have secret orders from the emperor,
Which none but you must hear: I must confess,
I could have wished some other hand had brought them.
When did you see your prisoner, great Sebastian?

_Dor._ You might as well have asked me, when I saw
A crested dragon, or a basilisk;
Both are less poison to my eyes and nature,
He knows not I am I; nor shall he see me,
Till time has perfected a labouring thought,
That rolls within my breast.

_Bend._ 'Twas my mistake.
I guessed indeed that time, and his misfortunes,
And your returning duty, had effaced
The memory of past wrongs; they would in me,
And I judged you as tame, and as forgiving.

_Dor._ Forgive him! no: I left my foolish faith,
Because it would oblige me to forgiveness.

_Bend._ I can't but grieve to find you obstinate,
Fo