Good-will withdraws; assent becomes but slow.
Mordred. Must I to gain renown incur my plague,
Or hoping praise sustain an exile’s life?
Must I for country’s ease disease myself,
Or for their love despise my own estate?[265]
No. ’Tis my hap that Britain serves my turn;
That fear of me doth make the subjects crouch;
That what they grudge they do constrained yield.
If their assents be slow, my wrath is swift:
When favour fails to bend, let fury break.