Cate. What, my lord?
[♦] Hast. Ere a fortnight make me elder,
[♦] I’ll send some packing that yet think not on it.
Cate. ’Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
65 When men are unprepared and look not for it.
[♦] Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so ’twill do
[♦] With some men else, who think themselves as safe
[♦] As thou and I; who, as thou know’st, are dear
[70] To princely Richard and to Buckingham.