There’s tidings on your face. The King is dead!
Lynned
The King is dead. The flower of Kings is fallen.
(A pause.)
Lucan is dead, Pelleas and Sagramore,
Lamorak, Meliot, Pellenore, Ozanna;
That famous fellowship of knights is dust.
Guenevere
Who shall let leap his bright sword in the air?
In what cause? There is no cause any more.