Mordred
Nay, he has lived to heap
A second guilt upon his head. Murder!
This is my own blood, where he wounded me,
And Agravaine is dead, and Colegrevance,
Patrice, and Mador. On the Queen’s threshold
Launcelot slew them, thinking that one stroke
Should silence all that caught him in his guilt.
I cry upon your justice!
Arthur