Chaucer alone it is, with whom we jest.
Come, nonnes both, and push her in with zest.
Junior. Oh, let me stay out. Don't make me go into that stuffy bookcase. There never will be room for me with all those other books. It will squeeze what little I do know out of me.
(Relentless, they push her behind the curtains into the bookcase. Her voice grows weaker, finally dying away.)
Wife
.
Life sentence is not much to pay for this.
Prioress
.
(to her Nuns who nod in agreement)
I think a little mercy not amiss.
Emily