50 K. Rich. Catesby!
Cate. My lord?
[♦] K. Rich. Rumour it abroad
That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die:
I will take order for her keeping close.
[55] Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
[♦] Whom I will marry straight to Clarence’ daughter:
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.
[♦] Look, how thou dream’st! I say again, give out
[♦] That Anne my wife is sick, and like to die: