This is pollution.

I:4:53 KING.
Daughter, I were pleased
My cousin could a nearer claim prefer
To my regard. Ay, girl, 'twould please me well
He were my son, thy husband; but what then?
My pleasure and his conduct jar; his fate
Baulks our desire. He's married and has heirs.

I:4:54 SOL.
Heirs, didst thou say heirs?

I:4:55 KING.
What ails thee?

I:4:56 SOL.
Heirs, heirs?

I:4:57 KING.
Thou art very pale!

I:4:58 SOL.
The faintness of the morn
Clings to me still; I pray thee, father, grant
Thy child one easy boon.

I:4:59 KING.
She has to speak
But what she wills.