Launcelot monologue — Arthur : $b A tragedy

Didst thou make woman, God, As thou hast made fire, earthquake, and sea-storm, To raise a beauty of terror and overthrow Great realms and reason’s self? Comes she again, The flame is on the wind and I am straw. I’m in the net. Oh for an enemy To hurl at! Dogs, would they betray their King, Shatter that dearest jewel of his life, This realm; make me their poisoned instrument, And in the crash drag down into the dirt, O infamy!--my Queen? Get to your work, Mordred; prime your crew; Hatch your plot! Still I have my word to say. If no way else avails I’ll take me hence To my own country, and you shall stretch your hands To grasp at nothing. Well, Whatever comes, I have a sword that’s clean.