My inward life, deeds that you have not known,
I burn to tell you in a sudden dread
That now your ghost discovers them in me.
Hearken, mother; between us there's a bond
Of flesh and essence closer than love can cause:
It cannot be unknit so soon as this,
And you must know my touch,
And you shall yield a sign.
Feel, feel this urging throb: I call to you ...
[GORMFLAITH, still crowned, enters by the garden doorway.]
Gormflaith:
Come back! Help me and shield me!
[She disappears through the curtains. GONERIL has sprung to her feet at
the first sound of GORMFLAITH'S voice.
LEAR enters through the garden doorway, leading GORMFLAITH by the hand.]
Lear: What is to do?
Goneril (advancing to meet them with a deep obeisance):
O, Sir, the Queen is dead: long live the Queen,
You have been ready with the coronation.
Lear:
What do you mean? Young madam, will you mock?
Goneril:
But is not she your choice?
The old Queen thought so, for I found her here,
Lipping the prints of her supplanter's feet,
Prostrate in homage, on her face, silent.
I tremble within to have seen her fallen down.
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