Lear:
A letter — a letter — what read you in a letter?
Gormflaith (taking another letter from her girdle):
Your words to me — my lonely joy your words ...
"If you are steady and true as your gaze " —
Lear (tearing the letter from her, crumpling it, and flinging it to the back of the room):
Pest!
You should not carry a king's letters about,
Nor hoard a king's letters.
Gormflaith:
No, Sire.
Lear:
Must the King also stand in the presence now?