Arthur. Father! yea all, I know all now. It cometh back.

And this my son? Oh Merlin, had I known

That thou didst hate me and wouldst use me thus!

Merlin. I hate thee not, King Arthur, nor do I love.

I loved an Arthur once, a phantom king,

Whom I did build on pinnacles of glory.

But he hath now long vanished, and I go,

Like many another who hath wrecked his hopes

On some false shore of human delusiveness,

[Pg 14]

[Pg 14]

To bury my pinch-beck jewels in that pit

That men call black oblivion. No, proud Arthur,

I am much over old for loves or hates,

My days are past, my mission done on earth,

I leave thee one here though, whose love or hate

Is more to thee than mine could ever be.

Twixt thee and him there are such subtle webs

Of destiny, it needeth no magician

To prophesy the running of those threads

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