His people’s laudings sounding in his ears,
Not in all the shout of battle victory;
But in that dread and secret solemn hour,
When some strange doom uplifts its sombre face,
And man must show his kingship of himself.
Arthur. Yea Merlin! say on Merlin, say on!
Merlin. For this same reason I have hid till now
The secret from thee that thou hast a son.
Arthur. A son!
Merlin. Yea, a son, by thine own sister.