Hygd:
Yester-eve ... Yester-morn ...
Goneril:
Unhappy mother,
You have no daughter to take thought for you —
No servant's love to shame a daughter with,
Though I am shamed — you must have other food,
Straightway I bring you meat ...
Hygd:
It is no use ...
Plenish the cup for me ... Not now, not now,
But in a while; for I am heavy now ...
Old Wynoc's potions loiter in my veins,
And tides of heaviness pour over me
Each time I wake and think. I could sleep now.
Goneril:
Then I shall lull you, as you once lulled me.
Seating herself on the bed, she sings.
The owlets in roof-holes
Can sing for themselves;
The smallest brown squirrel
Both scampers and delves;
But a baby does nothing —
She never knows how —
She must hark to her mother
Who sings to her now.
Sleep then, ladykin, peeping so;
Hide your handies and ley lei lo.