Ay, if he is in time.
Gormflaith (taking off the crown and holding it up blindly toward Goneril with one hand):
Take it and let me go!
Goneril:
Nay, not to me:
You are the Queen's, to serve her even in death.
Yield her her own. Approach her: do not fear;
She will not chide you or forgive you now.
Go on your knees; the crown still holds you down.
GORMFLAITH stumbles forward on her knees and lays the crown on the bed, then crouches motionlessly against the bedside.
Goneril (taking the crown and putting it on the dead Queen's head):
Mother and Queen, to you this holiest circlet
Returns, by you renews its purpose and pride;
Though it is sullied with a menial warmth,
Your august coldness shall rehallow it,
And when the young lewd blood that lent it heat
Is also cooler we can well forget.
She steps to GORMFLAITH.
Rise. Come, for here there is no more to do,
And let us seek your chamber, if you will,
There to confer in greater privacy;
For we have now interment to prepare.