[Both pass on.
Vivien. (Aside to Mordred.) These words are rungs by which to build thy ladder
Over the ruins of this dooméd kingdom.
Mordred. I cannot play thus on my father’s shame,
Even though he hate me. I would rather go
And bury my sorrows in a hermit’s grave
Than build a power upon this human folly.
Even these twain, my heart doth pity them.
Not all their beauty hath kept them from this hell.
Vivien. Hast thou no pride, Prince Mordred?