[♦] Hast. How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown?
Cate. Ay, my good lord.
Hast. I’ll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders
[♦] Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced.
45 But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?
[♦] Cate. Ay, on my life, and hopes to find you forward
Upon his party for the gain thereof:
And thereupon he sends you this good news,
That this same very day your enemies,
50 The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.