Merryn:
Ah, cruel, cruel! The shame, the pity —
Goneril:
Lift.
Together they raise HYGD, and carry her to bed.
She breathes, but something flitters under her flesh:
Wynoc the leech must help us now. Go, run,
Seek him, and come back quickly, and do not dare
To come without him.
Merryn:
It is useless, lady:
There's fever at the cowherd's in the marsh,
And Wynoc broods above it twice a day,
And I have lately seen him hobble thither.
Goneril:
I never heard such scornful wickedness
As that a king's physician so should choose
To watch and even heal base men and poor —
And, more than all, when there's a queen a-dying ...