There is no love for Mordred in these precincts;
Took he the lonely road tomorrow morn,
They’d cover his face and laugh the world along,
Unmindful of his setting.
Enter Vivien.
Vivien. Nay not so, there are two as would grieve thee.
Mordred. Aye, two?
Vivien. Yea, two, I and thy dog.
Mordred. Yea sooth would grieve my poor four-footed beast.
Better that Mordred had been got a dog,