I must be pardoned if I scorn your ways:
You cannot know this feeling that I know,
You are not of her kin or house; but I
Share blood with her, and, though she grew too worn
To be your Queen, she was my mother, Sir.
Gormflaith:
The Queen has seen me.
Lear:
She is safe in bed.
Goneril:
Do not speak low: your voice sounds guilty so;
And there is no more need--she will not wake.
Lear:
She cannot sleep for ever. When she wakes
I will announce my purpose in the need
Of Britain for a prince to follow me,
And tell her that she is to be deposed ...
What have you done? She is not breathing now.
She breathed here lately. Is she truly dead?
Goneril:
Your graceful consort steals from us too soon:
Will you not tell her that she should remain--
If she can trust the faith you keep with a queen?
[She steps to GORMFLAITH, who is sidling toward the garden door-way,
and, taking her hand, leads her to the foot of the bed.]
Lady, why will you go? The King intends
That you shall soon be royal, and thereby
Admitted to our breed: then stay with us
In this domestic privacy to mourn
The grief here fallen on our family.
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