Merlin. Yea King, thy horn of glory doth enlarge,
Thy sun of splendor toppeth the future’s marge,
May all bright auspices attend its setting.
Arthur. And now wise Mage, what hath thy will with me?
I am thine Arthur even being King,
For thou hast made me, next to that weird fate
That sat about the mystery of my getting,
And the sweet fostership of Holy Church,
Which hath forgiven my great youthful sin