SCENE I. The same. Enter LORD BARDOLPH LORD BARDOLPH Who keeps the gate here, ho?
The Porter opens the gate Where is the earl? Porter What shall I say you are? LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. Porter His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard;Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, And he himself wilt answer.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the earl.
Exit Porter NORTHUMBERLAND What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now 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. LORD BARDOLPH Noble earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. NORTHUMBERLAND Good, an God will! LORD BARDOLPH 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 And Westmoreland and Stafford fled 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 Caesar's fortunes! NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived?
Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? LORD BARDOLPH I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, A gentleman well bred and of good name, That freely render'd me these news for true. NORTHUMBERLAND Here comes my servant Travers, whom Isent On Tuesday last to listen after news.
Enter TRAVERS LORD BARDOLPH 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. NORTHUMBERLAND Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you? TRAVERS 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.
With that, he gave his able horse the head, And bending forward struck his armed heels Against the panting sides of his poor jade Up to the rowel-head, and starting so He seem'd in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question. NORTHUMBERLAND Ha! Again:
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion Had met ill luck? LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I'll tell you what;If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point I'll give my barony: never talk of it. NORTHUMBERLAND Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers Give then such instances of loss? LORD BARDOLPH Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
Enter MORTON NORTHUMBERLAND 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? MORTON I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party. NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother?
Thou tremblest; 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-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.
This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus;Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:'
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.' MORTON Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;But, for my lord your son-- NORTHUMBERLAND 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. MORTON You are too great to be by me gainsaid:
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. NORTHUMBERLAND Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye:
Thou shakest thy head and hold'st it fear or sin To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so;The tongue offends not that reports his death:
And he doth sin 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. LORD BARDOLPH I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. MORTON I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen;But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed, To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best temper'd courage in his troops;For from his metal was his party steel'd;Which once in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead: