The Birth of Merlin, or, The Childe Hath Found His Father
ACT IV, SCENE I
Enter Clown, Merlin, and a little antick Spirit
How now, uncle? why do you search your pockets so? Do you miss any
Ha! Cousin Merlin, I hope your beard does not overgrow your honesty; I
pray, remember, you are made up of sisters thread; I am your mothers brother,
whosoever was your father.
Why, wherein can you task my duty, uncle?
Your self or your page it must be, I have kept no other company, since
your mother bound your head to my protectorship; I do feel a fault of one side;
either it was that sparrowhawk, or a cast of Merlins, for I finde a covy of
cardecu's sprung out of my pocket.
Why, do you want any money, uncle? Sirrah, had you any from him?
Deny it not, for my pockets are witness against you.
Yes, I had, to teach you better wit to look to it.
Pray, use your fingers better, and my wit may serve as it is, sir.
Well, restore it.
There it is.
I, there's some honesty in this; 'twas a token from your invisible
father, cousin, which I would not have to go invisibly from me agen.
Well, you are sure you have it now, uncle?
Yes, and mean to keep it now from your pages filching fingers too.
If you have it so sure, pray show it me agen.
Yes, my little juggler, I dare show it. Ha, cleanly conveyance agen!
ye have no invisible fingers, have ye? 'Tis gone, certainly.
Why, sir, I toucht you not.
Why, look you, uncle, I have it now: how ill do you look to it! here,
keep it safer.
Ha, ha, this is fine, yfaith. I must keep some other company, if you
have these slights of hand.
Come, come, uncle, 'tis all my art, which shall not offend you, sir,
onely I give you a taste of it to show you sport.
Oh, but 'tis ill jesting with a mans pocket, tho'. But I am glad to
see you cunning, cousin, for now will I warrant thee a living till thou diest.
You have heard the news in Wales here?
Uncle, let me prevent your care and counsel,
'Twill give you better knowledge of my cunning.
You would prefer me now, in hope of gain,
To Vortiger, King of the Welch Brittains,
To whom are all the artists summon'd now,
That seeks the secrets of futurity:
The bards, the druids, wizards, conjurers,
Not an auraspex with his whisling spells,
No capnomanster with his musty fumes,
No witch or juggler, but is thither sent,
To calculate the strange and fear'd event
Of his prodigious castle, now in building,
Where all the labors of the painful day
Are ruin'd still i'th' night, and to this place
You would have me go.
Well, if thy mother were not my sister, I would say she was a witch
that begot thee; but this is thy father, not thy mother wit. Thou hast taken my
tale into thy mouth, and spake my thoughts before me; therefore away, shuffle
thy self amongst the conjurers, and be a made man before thou comest to age.
Nay, but stay, uncle, you overslip my dangers:
The prophecies and all the cunning wizards
Have certifi'd the king that this his castle
Can never stand, till the foundation's laid
With mortar temper'd with the fatal blood
Of such a childe whose father was no mortal.
What's this to thee? If the devil were thy father, was not thy mother
born at Carmarden? Diggon for that, then; and then it must be a childes blood,
and who will take thee for a childe with such a beard of thy face? Is there not
diggon for that too, cousin?
I must not go: lend me your ear a while,
I'le give you reasons to the contrary.
Enter two Gentlemen.
Sure, this is an endless piece of work the king has sent us
Kings may do it, man; the like has been done to finde out the
Which will be sooner found, I think, then this fiend begotten
childe we seek for.
Pox of those conjurers that would speak of such a one, and yet
all their cunning could not tell us where to finde him.
In Wales they say assuredly he lives; come, let's enquire
Uncle, your perswasions must not prevail with me: I know mine enemies
better then you do.
I say, th'art a bastard then, if thou disobey thine uncle: was not
Joan Go-too't, thy mother, my sister? If the devil were thy father, what kin art
thou to any man alive but bailys and brokers? and they are but brothers in law
to thee neither.
How's this? I think we shall speed here.
I, and unlook't for too: go ne're and listen to them.
Hast thou a beard to hide it? wil't thou show thy self a childe? wil't
thou have more hair then wit? Wil't thou deny thy mother, because no body knows
thy father? Or shall thine uncle be an ass?
Bless ye, friend: pray, what call you this small gentlemans
Small, sir? a small man may be a great gentleman; his father may be of
an ancient house, for ought we know, sir.
Why? do you not know his father?
No, nor you neither, I think, unless the devil be in ye.
What is his name, sir?
His name is my cousin, sir, his education is my sisters son, but his
maners are his own.
Why ask ye, gentlemen? my name is Merlin.
Yes, and a goshawk was his father, for ought we know; for I am sure
his mother was a wind-sucker.
He has a mother, then?
As sure as I have a sister, sir.
But his father you leave doubtful.
Well, sir, as wise men as you doubt whether he had a father or no?
Sure, this is he we seek for.
I think no less: and, sir, we let you know
The king hath sent for you.
The more childe he; and he had bin rul'd by me,
He should have gone before he was sent for.
May we not see his mother?
CLOWN. Yes, and feel her too, if you anger her; a devilish thing, I can tell
ye, she has been. Ile go fetch her to ye. (Exit.
Sir, it were fit you did resolve for speed,
You must unto the king.
My service, sir,
Shall need no strict command, it shall obey
Most peaceably; but needless 'tis to fetch
What is brought home: my journey may be staid,
The king is coming hither
With the same quest you bore before him; hark,
This drum will tell ye. (Within drums beat a low march.
This is some cunning indeed, sir.
Florish. Enter Vortiger, reading a letter, Proximus, with drum and
Still in our eye your message, Proximus,
We keep to spur our speed:
Ostorius and Octa we shall salute
With succor against Prince Uter and Aurelius,
Whom now we hear incamps at Winchester.
There's nothing interrupts our way so much
As doth the erection of this fatal castle,
That spite of all our art and daily labor,
The night still ruines.
As erst I did affirm, still I maintain,
The fiend begotten childe must be found out,
Whose blood gives strength to the foundation;
It cannot stand else.
Enter Clown and Joan, Merlin.
Ha! Is't so?
Then, Proximus, by this intelligence
He should be found: speak, is this he you tell of?
Yes, sir, and I his uncle, and she his mother.
And who is his father?
Why, she, his mother, can best tell you that, and yet I think the
childe be wise enough, for he has found his father.
Woman, is this thy son?
It is, my lord.
What was his father? Or where lives he?
Mother, speak freely and unastonisht;
That which you dar'd to act, dread not to name.
In which I shall betray my sin and shame.
But since it must be so, then know, great king,
All that my self yet knows of him is this:
In pride of blood and beauty I did live,
My glass the altar was, my face the idol;
Such was my peevish love unto my self,
That I did hate all other; such disdain
Was in my scornful eye that I suppos'd
No mortal creature worthy to enjoy me.
Thus with the peacock I beheld my train,
But never saw the blackness of my feet;
Oft have I chid the winds for breathing on me,
And curst the sun, fearing to blast my beauty.
In midst of this most leaprous disease,
A seeming fair yong man appear'd unto me,
In all things suiting my aspiring pride,
And with him brought along a conquering power,
To which my frailty yielded; from whose embraces
This issue came; what more he is, I know not.
Some incubus or spirit of the night
Begot him then, for, sure, no mortal did it.
No matter who, my lord; leave further quest,
Since 'tis as hurtful as unnecessary
More to enquire: go to the cause, my lord,
Why you have sought me thus?
I doubt not but thou knowst; yet, to be plain,
I sought thee for thy blood.
By whose direction?
My art infalable instructed me,
Upon thy blood must the foundation rise
Of the kings building; it cannot stand else.
Hast thou such leisure to enquire my fate,
And let thine own hang careless over thee?
Knowst thou what pendelous mischief roofs thy head,
How fatal, and how sudden?
Bearded abortive, thou foretel my danger!
My lord, He trifles to delay his own.
No, I yield my self: and here before the king
Make good thine augury, as I shall mine.
If thy fate fall not, thou hast spoke all truth,
And let my blood satisfie the kings desires:
If thou thy self wilt write thine epitaph,
Dispatch it quickly, there's not a minutes time
'Twixt thee and thy death.
Ha, ha, ha! (A stone falls and kills Proximus.
I, so thou mayest die laughing.
Ha! This is above admiration: look, is he dead?
Yes, sir, here's brains to make morter on, if you'l use them. Cousin
Merlin, there's no more of this stone fruit ready to fall, is there? I pray,
give your uncle a little fair warning.
Remove that shape of death. And now, my lord,
For clear satisfaction of your doubts,
Merlin will show the fatal cause that keeps
Your castle down and hinders your proceedings.
Stand there, and by an apparition see
The labor and end of all your destiny.
Mother and uncle, you must be absent.
Is your father coming, cousin?
Nay, you must be gone.
Come, you'l offend him, brother.
I would fain see my brother i'law; if you were married, I might
lawfully call him so.
Merlin strikes his wand. Thunder and lightning; two dragons appear,
a white and a red; they fight a while, and pause.
What means this stay?
Be not amaz'd, my lord, for on the victory,
Of loss or gain, as these two champions ends,
Your fate, your life, and kingdom all depends;
Therefore observe it well.
I shall: heaven be auspicious to us.
Thunder: the two dragons fight agen, and the white dragon drives off the
The conquest is on the white dragons part.
Now, Merlin, faithfully expound the meaning.
Your grace must then not be offended with me.
It is the weakest part I found in thee,
To doubt of me so slightly. Shall I blame
My prophet that foretells me of my dangers?
Thy cunning I approve most excellent.
Then know, my lord, there is a dampish cave,
The nightly habitation of these dragons,
Vaulted beneath where you would build your castle,
Whose enmity and nightly combats there
Maintain a constant ruine of your labors.
To make it more plain, the dragons, then,
Your self betoken and the Saxon king;
The vanquisht red is, sir, your dreadful emblem.
Oh, my fate!
Nay, you must hear with patience, royal sir.
You slew the lawful king Constantius:
'Twas a red deed, your crown his blood did cement.
The English Saxon, first brought in by you
For aid against Constantius brethren,
Is the white horror who now, knit together,
Have driven and shut you up in these wilde mountains;
And though they now seek to unite with friendship,
It is to wound your bosom, not embrace it,
And with an utter extirpation
To rout the Brittains out, and plant the English.
Seek for your safety, sir, and spend no time
To build the airy castles; for Prince Uter,
Armed with vengeance for his brothers blood,
Is hard upon you. If you mistrust me,
And to my words crave witness, sir, then know,
Here comes a messenger to tell you so. (Exit Merlin.
My lord! Prince Uter!
And who else, sir?
Edol, the great general.
The great devil! they are coming to meet us?
With a full power, my lord.
With a full vengeance,
They mean to meet us; so! we are ready
To their confront. At full march, double footing,
We'l loose no ground, nor shall their numbers fright us:
If it be fate, it cannot be withstood;
We got our crown so, be it lost in blood. (Exeunt.
On to Act VI Scene II
Back to Contents