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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, 'an heaven 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 Nain outright; and both the Blunts
Killid by the hand of Douglas : young prince John,
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, Aed the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk fir John,
Is prisoner to your son : 0, 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 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 me these news for true.

North. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent On Tuesday last to listen after news.

Bard. My lord, I ovet-rode him on the way ;
And he is furnish'd with no certainties,
More than he haply may retail froin 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 hors'd,
Out-rode me. After him, came, spurring hard,

A gentle

A gentleman almost 'forspent with speed,
That stopt by me to breathe his bloody'd horse:
He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him
I did demand, what news froin 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.

North. Ha!-- Again.
Said he, young Harry Percy's fpur was cold ?
"Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion
Had met ill luck ?

Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what ;-
If my young lord your fon have not the day,
Upon mine honour, for'a filken point
I'll give my barony: never talk of it.

Nortb. Why should the gentleman, that rode by Travers; Give then such minstances of loss?

Bard. Who, he ?
He was some hilding fellow, that had stol'n
The horse he rode on; and, upon my life,
Spoke at adventure.

Look, here comes more news.
for spent]-exhausted.

poor jade]-wearied hackney. o devour ihe way,)

an expression of great hafte. “ I drink be air before me

TEMPEST, Vol. I. p. 73. Ariel. Again |--Say that again. k Of Hatspur, 1-A common term for a vehement, precipitate person. Ha filken point) ftring, or iace tagg'd. # infances ]-proofs. bilding)-base.

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Enter Morton.

North. Yea, this man's brow, like to oa title-leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragick volume :
So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation:
Say, Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?

Mort. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord ;
Where hateful death put on his ugliest maik,
To fright our party.

North. How doth my son, and brother?
Thou trembleft., and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, fo 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,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it.
This would'st thou say,-Your fon did thus, and thus ;
Your brother, thus ; fo fought the noble Douglas ;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with brother, son, and all are dead.

Mort. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet : But for my lord your son,

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 thy earl, his divination.lies;

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a title-leaf,]-the black title-page to an elegy. so woe-begone,]-so far gone in woe.

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And I will take it as a sweet 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.

Bard. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead,

North. I see a strange confession in thine eyes Thou shak't thy head, and hold’st it fear, or sin, To speak a truth. If he be nain, fay fo. The tongue offends not, that

reports

his death;
And he doth sin, that doth belie the dead;
Not he that saith the dead is not alive.

Mort. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend.

Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.

Mort. I am sorry, I should force you to believe
That, which I would to heaven I had not seen :
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint ' quittance, wearied and out-breath’d,
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
Which once in him 'abated, all the rest
Turn’d on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that's heavy in itself,

party steeld;

e spirit)-presentiment.

quittance]-return, opposition. 'abated, all tbe rest turn'd on themselves, like dull and beavy lead.) being reduced to a lower temper, the edge of his party was blunted, and became as lead,

Upon

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Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed;
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear,
That arrows fed not swifter toward their aim,
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field : Then was that noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner : and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times Nain the appearance of the king,
'Gan "vail his stomach, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backs; and, in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is,-that the king hath won; and hath sent out
A speedy power, to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster,
And Welținoreland : this is the news at full.

North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is phyfick; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well :
And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints,
Like strengthless hinges, 'buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms; even so my limbs,
Weaken'd with pain, being now enrag'd with grief,
Are thrice themselves : hence therefore, thou nice crutch;
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel,
Mult glove this hand : and hence, thou fickly · quoif;
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which princes, felh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron; And approach

u vail bis Romasb, ).-Began to droop, to let his courage fink under his misfortunes.

Having been well, ]-Had I been well. buckle)-bend.

grief.

quoif;}cap. feb!d)—hred; Aufl.

The

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