ht wastes apace; when, when will he appear!

_Ham._ He only waits your summons.

_Bend._ Haste their coming.
Let secrecy and silence be enjoined
In their close march. What news from the lieutenant?

_Ham._ I left him at the gate, firm to your interest,
To admit the townsmen at their first appearance.

_Bend._ Thus far 'tis well: Go, hasten Mustapha. [_Exit_ HAMET.

_Enter_ ORCHAN, _the third Servant._

O, Orchan, did I think thy diligence
Would lag behind the rest!--What from the Mufti?

_Orc._ I sought him round his palace; made inquiry
Of all the slaves; in short, I used your name,
And urged the importance home; but had for answer,
That, since the shut of evening, none had seen him.

_Bend._ O the curst fate of all conspiracies!
They move on many springs; if one but fail,
The restiff machine stops. In an ill hour he's absent;
'Tis the first time, and sure will be the last,
That e'er a Mufti was not in the way,
When tumults and rebellion should be broached.
Stay by me; thou art resolute and faithful;
I have employment worthy of thy arm. [_Walks._

_Enter_ MULEY-ZEYDAN.

_Mul. Zeyd._ You see me come, impatient of my hopes,
And eager as the courser for the race:
Is all in readiness?

_Bend._ All but the Mufti.

_Mul. Zeyd._ We must go on without him.

_Bend._ True, we must;
For 'tis ill stopping in the full career,
Howe'er the leap be dangerous and wide.

_Orc._ [_Looking out._]
I see the blaze of torches from afar,
And hear the trampling of thick-beating feet;
This way they move.

_Bend._ No doubt, the emperor.
We must not be surprised in conference.
Trust to my management the tyrant's death,
And haste yourself to join with Mustapha.
The officer, who guards the gate, is yours:
When you have gained that pass, divide your force;
Yourself in person head one chosen half,
And march to oppress the faction in consult
With dying Dorax. Fate has driven them all
Into the net; you must be bold and sudden:
Spare none; and if you find him struggling yet
With pangs of death, trust not his rolling eyes
And heaving gasps; for poison may be false,--
The home thrust of a friendly sword is sure.

_Mul. Zeyd._ Doubt not my conduct; they shall be surprised.
Mercy may wait without the gate one night,
At morn I'll take her in.

_Bend._ Here lies your way;
You meet your brother there.

_Mul. Zeyd._ May we ne'er meet!
For, like the twins of Leda, when I mount,
He gallops d