Vivien. Yea, ’tis my thought.
Mordred. To catch the queen in her own guilty net,
Then open her shame to all the gaping world.
’Twill bring great Arthur’s glory by the walls,
With thunder and smoke of splendor to the ground.
Launcelot is half of Arthur’s greatness,
And when he hateth Launcelot for the Queen,
This house of majesty will rend itself,
And Mordred be the raven in the smoke,
Flapping his wings across it’s desolation.