Round our homes, and, for pay, would, with treacherous eye,
Find flaws in the wife e'en of Cæsar.
Find? Well, if unable to find they will make.
No, the loathliest asp that e'er lurked in the brake
To spring on the passer unwary,
Was not such an anguis in herbâ as this is,
Mean worm, which of all warning rattles and hisses
Is so calculatingly chary.
The spy sets up shop! And what has he for sale?
False evidence meant to weight justice's scale,