Launcelot. Thou goest not, and why?
Arthur. Deem it not strange my Launcelot that I sit
Here thus disconsolate my betrothal morn,
Nor over eager for to play the lover,
And decked in splendor go to meet the queen.
Launcelot thine Arthur hath a sorrow.
Hast seen my son Mordred?
Launcelot. Yea Arthur, I have seen this Mordred.
Yea, mine Arthur, thou hast indeed a sorrow,
And could thy Launcelot but help thee bear it!