Among my household? Why is Rumor here? Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I Than they have learn'd of me; from Rumor's tongues They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. [Exit. Bar. Who keeps the gate here, ho?—Where is the earl? Por. What shall I say you are? Bar. Tell thou the earl, That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here. Por. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard: Please it your honor, knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer. Bar. Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. Here comes the earl. North. What news, lord Bardolph ? every minute now SHAK. VII. K Should be the father of some stratagem: 1 Bar. Noble earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. Bar. As good as heart can wish. The king is almost wounded to the death; Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts North. How is this derived? Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? Bar. 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. 1 Some important or dreadful event. Bar. 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. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with you? Tra. My lord, sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed, North. Ha! Again. Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? Had met ill luck? Bar. My lord, I'll tell you what:— If my young lord your son have not the day; Upon mine honor, for a silken point 1 I'll give my barony: never talk of it. North. Why should that gentleman, that rode by Give then such instances of loss? Who? he? Bar. Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. Enter MORTON. North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? North. 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 burn'd ; But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue; A silken lace tagged. 2 Base. |