Vivien. Yea, then will my hate,—my love,—
Mordred. Nay woman do not speak of hates or loves
Or other foolish human hearted moods
Of man’s poor weakness, nay, but steel thyself
To be an engine of the crushing fates;
For he who would be powerful must be iron
And adamant amid this cruel world,
Knowing not heat nor cold, remorse nor shame,
Doing the deed that cometh to his hand.
But we must have a care and watch and wait