Nor after any claims, but chief and first!
Conan. But think what fame and grievous bruits would run
Of such disloyal and unjust attempts.
Mordred. Fame goes not with our ghosts: the senseless soul,
Once gone, neglects what vulgar bruit reports.
She is both light and vain.
Conan. She noteth, though.
Mordred. She feareth states.[259]
Conan. She carpeth, ne’ertheless.
Mordred. She’s soon suppress’d.