Launcelot Du Lake, thou traitor knight,
Sinner against the honor of this realm,
I banish thee for ever from this kingdom,
On pain of foulest death, dost thou return.
Laun. Sire, I accept the issue.
Mordred. ’Tis but a gentle majesty that leans
To mercy such as this, were I thy king—
Gwaine. Yea, get thee quick. Fast as thou nearest France
We sail the faster. Thou shalt meet with Gwaine,