Whose power may do what good or harm he will,
’Tis hard to say which be his faithful friends.
Dame Flattery flitteth oft: she loves and hates
With time, a present friend, an absent foe.
Mordred. But yet I’ll hope the best.[258]
Conan. Even then you fear
The worst: fears follow hopes, as fumes do flames.
Mischief is sometimes safe, but ne’er secure.
The wrongful sceptre’s held with trembling hand.
Mordred. Whose rule wants right, his safety’s in his sword;