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The friar falls asleep; the head speaks once and twice, and Miles fails to wake his master. It speaks the third time. ‘A lightning flashes forth, and a hand appears that breaks down the head with a hammer.’ Bacon awakes to lament over the ruin of his work, and load the careless Miles with unavailing reproaches. But the whole scene is characteristic enough to merit transcription:

      Scene XI.—Friar Bacon’s Cell.

      Friar Bacon is discovered lying on a bed, with a white stick in one hand, a book in the other, and a lamp lighted beside him; and the Brazen Head, and Miles with weapons by him.

      Bacon. Miles, where are you?

      Miles. Here, sir.

      Bacon. How chance you tarry so long?

      Miles. Think you that the watching of the Brazen Head craves no furniture? I warrant you, sir, I have so armed myself that if all your devils come, I will not fear them an inch.

      Bacon. Miles,

       Thou know’st that I have divèd into hell,

       And sought the darkest palaces of fiends;

       That with my magic spells great Belcephon

       Hath left his lodge and kneelèd at my cell;

       The rafters of the earth rent from the poles,

       And three-form’d Luna hid her silver looks,

       Tumbling upon her concave continent,

       When Bacon read upon his magic book.

       With seven years’ tossing necromantic charms,

       Poring upon dark Hecat’s principles,

       I have framed out a monstrous head of brass,

       That, by the enchanting forces of the devil,

       Shall tell out strange and uncouth aphorisms,

       And girt fair England with a wall of brass.

       Bungay and I have watch’d these threescore days,

       And now our vital spirits crave some rest:

       If Argus lived and had his hundred eyes,

They could not over-watch Phobetor’s9 night. Now, Miles, in thee rests Friar Bacon’s weal: The honour and renown of all his life Hangs in the watching of this Brazen Head; Therefore I charge thee by the immortal God That holds the souls of men within his fist, This night thou watch; for ere the morning star Sends out his glorious glister on the north The Head will speak. Then, Miles, upon thy life Wake me; for then by magic art I’ll work To end my seven years’ task with excellence. If that a wink but shut thy watchful eye, Then farewell Bacon’s glory and his fame! Draw close the curtains, Miles: now, for thy life, Be watchful, and ... (Falls asleep.)

Miles. So; I thought you would talk yourself asleep anon; and ’tis no marvel, for Bungay on the days, and he on the nights, have watched just these ten and fifty days: now this is the night, and ’tis my task, and no more. Now, Jesus bless me, what a goodly head it is! and a nose! You talk of Nos10 autem glorificare; but here’s a nose that I warrant may be called Nos autem populare for the people of the parish. Well, I am furnished with weapons: now, sir, I will set me down by a post, and make it as good as a watchman to wake me, if I chance to slumber. I thought, Goodman Head, I would call you out of your memento.11 Passion o’ God, I have almost broke my pate! (A great noise.) Up, Miles, to your task; take your brown-bill in your hand; here’s some of your master’s hobgoblins abroad.

      The Brazen Head (speaks). Time is.

Miles. Time is! Why, Master Brazen-Head, you have such a capital nose, and answer you with syllables, ‘Time is’? Is this my master’s cunning, to spend seven years’ study about ‘Time is’? Well, sir, it may be we shall have some better orations of it anon: well, I’ll watch you as narrowly as ever you were watched, and I’ll play with you as the nightingale with the glow-worm; I’ll set a prick against my breast.12 Now rest there, Miles. Lord have mercy upon me, I have almost killed myself. (A great noise.) Up, Miles; list how they rumble.

      The Brazen Head (loquitur). Time was.

Miles. Well, Friar Bacon, you have spent your seven years’ study well, that can make your Head speak but two words at once, ‘Time was.’ Yea, marry, time was when my master was a wise man; but that was before he began to make the Brazen Head. You shall lie while you ache, an your head speak no better. Well, I will watch, and walk up and down, and be a peripatetian13 and a philosopher of Aristotle’s stamp. (A great noise.) What, a fresh noise? Take thy pistols in hand, Miles. (A lightning flashes forth, and a Hand appears that breaks down the Head with a hammer.) Master, master, up! Hell’s broken loose! Your Head speaks; and there’s such a thunder and lightning, that I warrant all Oxford is up in arms. Out of your bed, and take a brownbill in your hand; the latter day is come.

      Bacon. Miles, I come. (Rises and comes forward.) O, passing warily watched! Bacon will make thee next himself in love. When spake the Head?

      Miles. When spake the Head? Did you not say that he should tell strange principles of philosophy? Why, sir, it speaks but two words at a time.

      Bacon. Why, villain, hath it spoken oft?

      Miles. Oft! ay, marry hath it, thrice; but in all those three times it hath uttered but seven words.

      Bacon. As how?

Miles. Marry, sir, the first time he said, ‘Time is,’ as if Fabius Commentator14 should have pronounced a sentence; then he said, ‘Time was;’ and the third time, with thunder and lightning, as in great choler, he said, ‘Time is past.’

      Bacon. ’Tis past, indeed. Ah, villain! Time is past;

       My life, my fame, my glory, are all past.

       Bacon,

       The turrets of thy hope are ruined down,

       Thy seven years’ study lieth in the dust:

       Thy Brazen Head lies broken through a slave

       That watched, and would not when the Head did will.

       What said the Head first?

      Miles. Even, sir, ‘Time is.’

      Bacon. Villain, if thou hadst called to Bacon then,

       If thou hadst watched, and waked the sleepy friar,

       The Brazen Head had uttered aphorisms,

       And England had been circled round with brass:

But proud Asmenoth,15 ruler of the North, And Demogorgon,16 master of the Fates, Grudge that a mortal man should work so much. Hell trembled at my deep-commanding spells, Fiends frowned to see a man their over-match; Bacon might boast more than a man might boast; But now the braves17 of Bacon have an end, Europe’s conceit of Bacon hath an end, His seven years’ practice sorteth to ill end: And, villain, sith my glory hath an end, I will appoint thee to some fatal end.18 Villain, avoid! get thee from Bacon’s sight! Vagrant, go, roam and range about the world, And perish as a vagabond on earth!

      Miles. Why, then, sir, you forbid me your service?

      Bacon. My service, villain, with a fatal curse,

       That direful plagues and mischief fall on thee.

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