Usurp no crown that likes a guiltless life:
Aspiring power and justice seld agree.
He always fears that shames to offer wrong.
Conan. What son would use such wrong against his sire?
Mordred. Come, son, come, sire, I first prefer myself;
And since a wrong must be, then it excels
When ’tis to gain a crown. I hate a peer:
I loathe, I irk, I do detest a head.
B’ it nature, be it reason, be it pride,
I love to rule! my mind, nor with, nor by,