Georgian Poetry 1913-15 Part 12

[While the ELDER WOMAN sings, the YOUNGER WOMAN straightens the Queen's feet and ties them together, draws the pillow from under her head, gathers her hair in one hand and knots it roughly; then she loosens her nightgown, revealing a jewel hung on a cord round the Queen's neck.]

The Elder Woman (running to the vacant side of the bed):

What have you there? Give it to me.

The Younger Woman:

It is mine: I found it.

 

The Elder Woman:

Leave it.

The Younger Woman:

Let go.

The Elder Woman:

Leave it, I say.

Will you not? Will you not? An eye for a jewel, then!

[She attacks the face of the YOUNGER WOMAN with her disengaged hand.]

The Younger Woman (starting back):

Oh!

[The ELDER WOMAN breaks the cord and thrusts the jewel into her pocket.]

The Younger Woman:

Aie! Aie! Aie! Old thief! You are always thieving!

You stole a necklace on your wedding day: You could not bear a child, you stole your daughter: You stole a shroud the morn your husband died: Last week you stole the Princess Regan's comb ...

[She stumbles into the chair by the bed, and, throwing her loose sleeves over her head, rocks herself and moans.]

The Elder Woman (resuming her clothes-folding and her song):

"The lady's linen's no longer neat;"-- Ahumm, Ahumm, Ahee-- "Her savour is neither warm nor sweet; It's close for two in a winding sheet, And lice are too good for worms to eat; So here's no place for me."

[GONERIL enters by the door near the bed: her knife and the hand that holds it are b.l.o.o.d.y. She pauses a moment irresolutely.]

The Elder Woman:

Still work for old Hrogneda, little Princess?

[GONERIL goes straight to the cauldron, pa.s.sing the women as if they were not there: she kneels and washes her knife and her hand in it. The women retire to the back of the chamber.]

Goneril (speaking to herself):

The way is easy: and it is to be used.

How could this need have been conceived slowly?

In a keen mind it should have leapt and burnt: What I have done would have been better done When my sad mother lived and could feel joy.

This striking without thought is better than hunting; She showed more terror than an animal, She was more s.h.i.+ftless ...

A little blood is lightly washed away, A common stain that need not be remembered; And a hot spasm of rightness quickly born Can guide me to kill justly and shall guide.

[LEAR enters by the door near the bed.]

Lear:

Goneril, Gormflaith, Gormflaith ... Have you seen Gormflaith?

Goneril:

I led her to her chamber lately, Sir.

Lear:

Ay, she is in her chamber. She is there.

Goneril:

Have you been there already? Could you not wait?

Lear:

Daughter, she is bleeding: she is slain.