If rebels for their due deserts had died.
The wicked’s death is safety to the just;
To spare the traitors was to spoil the true:
Of force he hurts the good that helps the bad.
In that you sought your country’s gain, ’twas well:
In that you shunned not her loss, ’twas hard.
Good is the friend that seeks to do us good;
A mighty friend that doth prevent our harms.
Arthur. Well, so it was; it cannot be redress’d;
The greater is my grief that sees it so.