That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, Among my household? Why is Rumour here? Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tongues They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. [Exit. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. The same. Enter LORD BARDOLPH. L. BARD. Who keeps the gate here, ho! Where is the earl? Tell thou the earl PORT. What shall I say you are? L. BARD. That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. L. BARD Here comes the earl. [Exit Porter. NORTH. What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now Should be the father of some stratagem: L. BARD. Noble earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. NORTH. Good, an God will! L. BARD. As good as heart can wish: The king is almost wounded to the death; And, in the fortune of my lord your son, Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John NORTH. How is this derived? Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? A gentleman well bred and of good name, On Tuesday last to listen after news. Enter TRAVERS. L. BARD. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; And he is furnish'd with no certainties More than he haply may retail from me. NORTH. NOW, Travers, what good tidings comes with you? TRA. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed, Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse. He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury: He told me that rebellion had bad luck And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. NORTH. Ha! Again: Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold? Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion Had met ill luck? L. BARD. If my young My lord, I'll tell you what; lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point I'll give my barony: never talk of it. NORTH. Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers Give then such instances of loss? L. BARD. Who, he? He was some hilding fellow that had stolen Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. NORTH. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood Hath left a witness'd usurpation. Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? MOR. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party. NORTH. How doth my son and brother? Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, NORTH. Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton; Tell thou an earl his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. MOR. You are too great to be by me gainsaid : Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. NORTH. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead. |