Than build a power upon this human folly.

Even these twain, my heart doth pity them.

Not all their beauty hath kept them from this hell.

Vivien. Hast thou no pride, Prince Mordred?

Yea, wait a breath, I’ll show thy wrongs too deep

To languish in a monkish wilderness.

What hast thy soul to do with weeds and turf?

Assert thy greatness or else kill thyself.

Thou art not fit to cumber this flat earth

If thou canst not assert thy dignity.

[Pg 33]

[Pg 33]

Were I mis-shapen o’er a thousand times,

Had but one eye, a wen upon my neck,

And swart and foul as foulest Caliban,

And were a man, I’d make my kingship felt—

So all should fear the God that looked a devil.

Mordred. Where’er thou comest from, thou comest not from Heaven.

Vivien. Yea, what cometh down from Heaven is not for such as thee.

The day doth come when thou wilt call on me.

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