In shape and spirit, Nature calls my son?
Enter Mordred.
Mordred. Here!
Arthur. Ah, Blot on all this sunlight, Creature dire,
Spawn of mine incest. There standest thou my sin,
Incarnate now before me, mine old doom,
Thou that wast stronger in thine influences
To work dread evil in this hideous world,
Than all the glory, all my good might win.
Mordred. Father!