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Warkworth. Before Northumberland's Castle.
Enter Rumour, painted full of Tongues. Rum. Open your ears ; For which of you will
stop The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks ? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth : Upon my tongues continual slanders ride; The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. I speak of peace, while covert enmity, Under the smile of safety, wounds the world : And who but Rumour, who but only I, Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence; Whilst the big year, swol'n with some other grief, Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; And of so easy and so plain a stop, That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it. But what need I thus My well-known body to anatomize Among my houshold? Why is Rumour here? I run before king Harry's victory; Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops, Quenching the flame of bold rebellion, Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I To speak so true at first? my office is To noise abroad, - that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword;
tongues They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.
KING HENRY IV.
ACT THE FIRST.
Warkworth. Before Northumberland's Castle. The Porter before the Gate; Enter Lord
Where is the earl?
Tell thou the earl,
chard ; Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. L. Bard.
Here comes the earl. North. What news, lord Bardolph ? every minute
Should be the father of some stratagem':
! Important or dreadful event.
Noble earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an heaven 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, 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 Cæsar's fortunes ! North.
How is this deriv'd ? Saw you the field ? came
from Shrewsbury ? L. Bard. 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. North. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom I
sent On Tuesday last to listen after news.
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 come
Tra. My lord, sir John Umfrevile turn’d me back With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd, 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 :
you If my young lord
your son have not the day,
Who, he ?
North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
How doth my son, and brother ?
2. Lace tagged
3 Hilderling, base, cowardly.