Mordred (To the Knights.) Now bear me slowly to great Arthur’s side
And let me place my hands upon his breast,
For he was mine own father! Alas! Alas!
So hideous is this nature we endure.
(The Soldiers place him by Arthur.)
How calm he sleeps, Allencthon, as those should
Who die in glorious battle. Dost thou know
Oh! mighty father that thine ill-got son,
Ill-got of nature and mysterious night,
To mar thy splendor and enwreck this world