KEEPER.
Help, help, help!
Enter Exton and Servants, armed.
RICHARD.
How now! What means death in this rude assault?
Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument.
[Snatching a weapon and killing one.]
Go thou and fill another room in hell.
[He kills another, then Exton strikes him down.]
That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire
That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the King’s blood stained the King’s own land.
Mount, mount, my soul! Thy seat is up on high,
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.
[Dies.]
EXTON.
As full of valour as of royal blood!
Both have I spilled. O, would the deed were good!
For now the devil that told me I did well
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king I’ll bear.
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.
[Exeunt.]