For the mere anguish there is such a potion. The gum of warpy juniper shoots is seethed With the torn marrow of an adder's spine; An unflawed emerald is pashed to dust And mingled there; that broth must cool in moonlight. I have indeed attempted this already, But the poor emeralds I could extort From wry-mouthed earls' women had no force. In two more dawns it will be late for potions ... There are not many emeralds in Britain, And there is none for vividness and strength Like the great stone that hangs upon your breast: If you will waste it for her she shall be holpen. Lear (with rising voice): Shatter my emerald? My emerald? My emerald? A High King of Eire gave it to his daughter Who mothered generations of us, the kings of Britain; It has a spiritual influence; its heart Burns when it sees the sun ... Shatter my emerald! Only the fungused brain and carious mouth Of senile things could shape such thought ... My emerald! [HYGD stirs uneasily in her sleep.] Physician: Speak lower, low; for your good fame, speak low-- If she should waken thus ... Lear: There is no wise man Believes that medicine is in a jewel. It is enough that you have failed with one. Seek you a common stone. I'll not do it. Let her eat heartily: she is spent with fasting. Let her stand up and walk: she is so still Her blood can never nourish her. Come away. Physician: I must not leave her ere the woman comes-- Or will some other woman ... Lear: No, no, no, no; The Queen is not herself; she speaks without sense; Only Merryn and Gormflaith understand. She is better quiet. Come ... [He urges the PHYSICIAN roughly away by the shoulder.] My emerald! [He follows the PHTSICIAN out by the door at the back. Queen HYGD awakes at his last noisy words as he disappears.] Hygd: I have not slept; I did but close mine eyes A little while--a little while forgetting ... Where are you, Merryn? ... Ah, it is not Merryn ... Bring me the cup of whey, woman; I thirst ... Will you speak to me if I say your name? Will you not listen, Gormflaith? ... Can you hear? I am very thirsty--let me drink ... Ah, wicked woman, why did I speak to you? I will not be your suppliant again ... Where are you? O, where are you? ... Where are you? [She tries to raise herself to look about the room, but sinks back helplessly. The curtains of the door at the back are parted, and GONERIL appears in hunting dress,--her kirtle caught up in her girdle, a light spear over her shoulder--stands there a moment, then enters noiselessly and, approaches the bed. She is a girl just turning to woman-hood, proud in her poise, swift and cold, an almost gleaming presence, a virgin huntress.] Goneril: Mother, were you calling? Have I awakened you? They said that you were sleeping. Why are you left alone, mother, my dear one? Hygd: