To arms! to arms! Red battle is my mood.
Mordred. Yea, battle!
Gwaine. Yea, blood, for blood! my brothers’ spirits call.
Arthur. My heart awakens! Mordred, as my regent,
I leave thee filial keeper of my crown,
My queen and kingdom, while I wed with war,
And bring as issue, yon foul Launcelot’s doom.
Make my forces ready. France! is the word.
All. (Draw swords and shout.) Yea, battle!