Turn poison in bad minds.

Sar.‍And good ones make320

Good out of evil. Happier than the bee,

Which hives not but from wholesome flowers.

Zar.‍Then reap

The honey, nor inquire whence 'tis derived.

Be satisfied—you are not all abandoned.

Sar. My life insures me that. How long, bethink you,

Were not I yet a king, should I be mortal;

That is, where mortals are, not where they must be?