Did nature only plant me sweet at first.
(To his Knights.) And now I die, and blessed be my death,
More blessed far that I had never breathed.
Murder and Treason were my midwives dire,
Rapine and Carnage, priests that shrive me now.
Enter Vivien, disguised as a Squire.
Vivien. Mordred! thou diest!
Mordred. Who art thou?
Vivien. I am Vivien.