Like some poor twisted root in human form.
And I am tall and fair, placed like a king.
And yet you make him greater, how be that?
Merlin. Didst thou but own Goliath’s mighty shape,
And wert a Balder in thy face and form,
With all of heaven’s lightnings in thy gaze,
Still would his greatness dwarf thee.
Arthur. Then what be I?
Merlin. The wreck of my poor hopes.
Arthur. The what?