NIOR. Are you the one they used to call "Patient Griselda"? I never
should have known you. And who are you? (_to_ HIPPOLYTA)

HIPPOLYTA. You did not mention me so I excuse
Your ignorance. And yet your suit you lose.
Come, ladies, come, draw close while we confer,
The instruments of Justice must not err.

(_They draw together and hold a whispered consultation, the_ JUNIOR
_vainly trying to pinch herself into reality_.)

JUNIOR. I know it's all a dream, but I just can't wake myself up.

HIPPOLYTA. For her mad crime, she's judged and in disgrace
The sentence is to put her in our case.

(_They take hold of the_ JUNIOR _and begin pushing her toward the
bookcase at the back of the stage_.)

JUNIOR. Why, I thought you were only joking.

PRIORESS. Chaucer alone it is, with whom we jest.
Come, nonnes both, and push her in with zest.

JUNIOR. Oh, let me stay out. Don't make me go into that stuffy bookcase.
There never will be room for me with all those other books. It will
squeeze what little I do know out of me.

(_Relentless, they push her behind the curtains into the bookcase. Her
voice grows weaker, finally dying away._)

WIFE. Life sentence is not much to pay for this.

PRIORESS. (_to her_ NUNS _who nod in agreement_)
_I_ think a little mercy not amiss.

EMILY. She's quite filled up the space that once was ours.

HIPPOLYTA. How are we going to pass our leisure hours?

FIRST NUN. (_to_ SECOND)
Perhaps she'll sing again.

SECOND NUN. Perchance she will.

WIFE. (_to_ HIPPOLYTA)
Say something quick, that we may hold her still.

EMILY. Hark, did I hear a pleading little voice?
Ah, ladies, in her punishment rejoice!

JUNIOR. (_meekly, in a weak, timid tone from behind the curtain_)
Dear ladies all, whom Father Chaucer loved, Hippolyta, and Emily, Mrs.
Wife of Bath and Sister Prioress, and the two nuns, and Griselda and
anybody else I haven't mentioned, I'm sorry, and I'll never do it again.

HIPPOLYTA. Justice and law demand your punishment.

PRIORESS. My tender heart would bid me cry "relent".

JUNIOR. (_crying_)
Please, ladies, for sweet Chaucer's sake.

(_They look at each other, moved by the mention of Chaucer's name_.)

JUNIOR. O Chaucer, you who loved all people, come to my aid!

HIPPOLYTA. Sorrow has taugh