Lynned monologue — Arthur : $b A tragedy

The rebel power is broken, and he that raised it Dead. Woe on us that the King died with him! Upon a field all mounded with the slain, The bloodiest harvest Time did ever reap, He and the traitor Mordred met their last And smote each other, even to the death. From a seashore that seemed the end of earth (So tells Sir Bedivere, like a ghost himself) Men fled into the tumble of the tides And the waves choked them falling; the salt spray Stung them: but “Never saw I fire,” said he, “Of such an indignation fill the King Seeking for Mordred. At the last he spied him Among the heaped dead, leaning on his sword, And cried aloud and smote him; and that traitor, Even as he gasped his bitter soul out, struck On our anointed.”