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KING Henry the Fourth.
Prince Henry, afterwards crowned King Henry the Fifth.
Prince John of Lancaster,
Sons to Henry the Fourth, and Brethren to
Humphrey of Gloucester,
Thomas of Clarence,
Henry the Fifth.
The Archbishop of York,
Oppofits against King Henry the Fourth.
of the King's Party.
Lord Chief Justice,
Shallow and Silence, Country Justices.
Davy, Servant to Shallow.
Phang and Snare, two Serjeants.
Wart, Country Soldiers
Drawers, Bradles, Grooms, wc.
Enter Lord Bardolph; the Porter at the door.
HO keeps the gate here, hoa ? where is the
Port. What shall I say you are?
Bard. Tell thou the Earl,
That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard; Please it your
knock but at the gate And he himself will answer.
Enter Northumberland. Bard. Here's the Earl.
North. What news, lord Bardolph? ev'ry minute
Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild: Contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.
Bard. Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, if heav'n will !
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 flain outright; and both the Blunts,
Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas : young Prince John,
And Westmorland, and Stafford, fied the field,
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not till now, to dignify the times,
Since Cæsar's fortunes !
North. How is this derived ?
Saw you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury?
Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from
thence, A gentleman well bred, and of good name; That freely render'd ine ihese news for true. North. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I
On Tuesday lal to listen after news.
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.
Enter Travers. North. TOW, Travers, what good tidings come
with you? Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevil turn'd me back With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd, Out-rode me. After him came fpurring hard A gentlemen, almost fore-spent with speed, That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse: He ask'd the way to Chefier; and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. He told me, that Rebellion had ill luck; And that young Harry Percy's Spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, ftruck his agile heels
Against the panting sides of his poorjade
Up to the rowel-head; and, starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
North. Ha? again:
Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Rebellion had ill luck ?
Bard. My lord, I'll tell you ;
If my young Lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine Honour, for a silken point
I'll give my Barony. Ne'er talk of it.
North. Why should the gentleman, that rode by
Give then such instances of loss ?
Bard. Who he?
He was some hilding fellow, that had stollin
The horse he rode on; and, upon my life,
Spake at adventure. Look, here comes more news.
C Ε Ν Ε III.
North. EA, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Foretels the Nature of a tragic volume:
So looks the strond, whereon th'imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury ?
Mort. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
Where hateful death put on his ugliest Mask
To fright our Party.
North. How doth my fon, and Brother?
Thou trembleft; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-he-gone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd:
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue;
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'ft it.
This thou would'ft say: your Son did thus, and thus:
Your brother, thus : fo fought the noble Dowglas :
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a figh to blow away this praise,
Ending with brother, son, and all are dead!
Mort. Dowglas is living, and your brother, yet;
But for my
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 other's eyes,
That what he fear'd is chanc'd. Yet, Morton, speak:
Tell thou thy Earl, his Divination lies;
And I will take it as a fweet Disgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mort. You are too Great to be by me gainsaid: Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
North. Yet for all this, fay not, that Percy's dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye: Thou shak'st thy head, and hold it it fear, or sin, To speak a truth. If he be flain, say fo: The tongue offends
his death :
And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead,
Not he, which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office: and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen.bell,
Remember'd, tolling a departing friend.
Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
Mort. I'm sorry, I should force you to believe That, which, I would to heav'n, I had not seen. But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath’d, To Henry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down