[Merlin moans and sinks in sleep.
[Vivien weaves paces about him. Spirits rise and wind him in a grey and black smoke.
Sleep like any rock or clod of earth,
Thou coffin that enclosed a human soul.
The blind, dull years take never note of thee,
For thou art part and parcel of the past.
Now Arthur, that thy great right hand is gone,
Vivien the devil backs to Camelot,
Vivien the scorned, the dust betwixt thy feet,
Doth back to Camelot where vengeance waits.