Arth. My sword shall do the rest.
Merl. Remember well, that all is but illusion.
Go on; good stars attend thee.
Arth. Doubt me not.
Merl. Yet, in prevention
Of what may come, I'll leave my Philidel
To watch thy steps, and with him leave my wand;
The touch of which no earthy fiend can bear,
In whate'er shape transformed, but must lay down
His borrowed figure, and confess the devil.