GONERIL enters by the door near the bed: her knife and the hand that holds it are bloody. She pauses a moment irresolutely.
The Elder Woman:
Still work for old Hrogneda, little Princess?
GONERIL goes straight to the cauldron, passing the women as if they were not there: she kneels and washes her knife and her hand in it. The women retire to the back of the chamber.
Goneril (speaking to herself):
The way is easy: and it is to be used.
How could this need have been conceived slowly?
In a keen mind it should have leapt and burnt:
What I have done would have been better done
When my sad mother lived and could feel joy.
This striking without thought is better than hunting;
She showed more terror than an animal,
She was more shiftless ...
A little blood is lightly washed away,
A common stain that need not be remembered;
And a hot spasm of rightness quickly born
Can guide me to kill justly and shall guide.
LEAR enters by the door near the bed.
Lear:
Goneril, Gormflaith, Gormflaith ... Have you seen Gormflaith?
Goneril: