Bedivere
Black skies!
Lucan
God’s anger.
Bedivere
How shall this end? Saw you the King?
Lucan
But now he passed into his tent, slowly, with head dejected. His heart is weary of this war.
Bedivere
Sick and sated. The heavy clouds seem to fall on us. One would say that all the tempests of the world had gathered in that storm, which soon will break about us.