She leads GORMFLAITH to the door near the bed.
You must walk first, you are still the Queen elect.
When GORMFLAITH has passed before her GONERIL unsheathes her hunting knife.
Gormflaith (turning in the doorway):
What will you do?
Goneril (thrusting her forward with the haft of the knife):
On. On. On. Go in.
She follows GORMFLAITH out. After a moment's interval two elderly women, one a little younger than the other, enter by the same door: they wear black hoods and shapeless black gowns with large sleeves that flap like the wings of ungainly birds: between them they carry a heavy cauldron of hot water.
The Younger Woman:
We were listening. We were listening.