Look, whatsoe’er our virtues have achiev’d,
The chaos vast and greedy time devours.
To-day all Europe rings with Arthur’s praise:
’Twill be as hush’d as if I ne’er had been.
What boots it then to venture life or limb
For that which needs ere long we leave or lose?
Cador. Can blind affection so much blear the wise,
Or love of graceless son so witch the sire,
That what concerns the honour of a prince,
With country’s good and subject’s just request,