And there is none to love me.
Launcelot
Here am I,
With my sword, with my blood, every last drop
Of blood that’s in my body, and it is yours.
Guenevere
And yet you left me—left me to Mordred’s mercy.
I am afraid of Mordred, Launcelot.
He has barbed your very absence; whispers that you
Fled from a rumour grown too dangerous