4OPen your Eares: For which of you will stop

5The vent of Hearing, when loud Rumor speakes?

6I, from the Orient, to the drooping West

7(Making the winde my Post-horse) still vnfold

8The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth.

9Vpon my Tongue, continuall Slanders ride,

10The which, in euery Language, I pronounce,

11Stuffing the Eares of them with false Reports:

12I speake of Peace, while couert Enmitie

13(Vnder the smile of Safety) wounds the World:

14And who but Rumour, who but onely I

15Make fearfull Musters, and prepar'd Defence,

16Whil'st the bigge yeare, swolne with some other griefes,

17Is thought with childe, by the sterne Tyrant, Warre,

18And no such matter? Rumour, is a Pipe

19Blowne by Surmises, Ielousies, Coniectures;

20And of so easie, and so plaine a stop,

21That the blunt Monster, with vncounted heads,

22The still discordant, wauering Multitude,

23Can play vpon it. But what neede I thus

24My well-knowne Body to Anathomize

25Among my houshold? Why is Rumour heere?

26I run before King Harries victory,

27Who in a bloodie field by Shrewsburie

28Hath beaten downe yong Hotspurre, and his Troopes,

29Quenching the flame of bold Rebellion,

30Euen with the Rebels blood. But what meane I

31To speake so true at first? My Office is

32To noyse abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell

33Vnder the Wrath of Noble Hotspurres Sword:

34And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage

35Stoop'd his Annointed head, as low as death.

36This haue I rumour'd through the peasant-Townes,

37Betweene the Royall Field of Shrewsburie,

38And this Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone,

39Where Hotspurres Father, old Northumberland,

40Lyes crafty sicke. The Postes come tyring on,

41And not a man of them brings other newes

42Then they haue learn'd of Me. From Rumours Tongues,

43They bring smooth-Comforts-false, worse then True-

44 wrongs. Exit.

47L. Bar. Who keepes the Gate heere hoa?

48Where is the Earle?

49Por. What shall I say you are?

50Bar. Tell thou the Earle

51That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him heere.

52Por. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard,

53Please it your Honor, knocke but at the Gate,

54And he himselfe will answer.

56L. Bar. Heere comes the Earle.

57Nor. What newes Lord Bardolfe? Eu'ry minute now

58Should be the Father of some Stratagem;

59The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse

60Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose,

61And beares downe all before him.

62L. Bar. Noble Earle,

63I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury.

64Nor. Good, and heauen will.

65L. Bar. As good as heart can wish:

66The King is almost wounded to the death:

67And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,

68Prince Harrie slaine out-right: and both the Blunts

69Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Yong Prince Iohn,

70And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.

71And Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir Iohn)

72Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day,

73(So fought, so follow'd, and so fairely wonne)

74Came not, till now, to dignifie the Times

75Since Caesars Fortunes.

76Nor. How is this deriu'd?

77Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?

78L. Bar. I spake with one (my L.) that came frōm thence,

79A Gentleman well bred, and of good name,

80That freely render'd me these newes for true.

81Nor. Heere comes my Seruant Trauers, whom I sent

82On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes.

84L. Bar. My Lord, I ouer-rod him on the way,

85And he is furnish'd with no certainties,

86More then he (haply) may retaile from me.

87Nor. Now Trauers, what good tidings comes frōm you?