88Tra. My Lord, Sir Iohn Vmfreuill turn'd me backe

89With ioyfull tydings; and (being better hors'd)

90Out-rod me. After him, came spurring head

91A Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed)

92That stopp'd by me, to breath his bloodied horse.

93He ask'd the way to Chester: And of him

94I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury:

95He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke,

96And that yong Harry Percies Spurre was cold.

97With that he gaue his able Horse the head,

98And bending forwards strooke his able heeles

99Against the panting sides of his poore Iade

100Vp to the Rowell head, and starting so,

101He seem'd in running, to deuoure the way,

102Staying no longer question.

103North. Ha? Againe:

104Said he yong Harrie Percyes Spurre was cold?

105(Of Hot-Spurre, cold-Spurre?) that Rebellion,

106Had met ill lucke?

107L. Bar. My Lord: Ile tell you what,

108If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day,

109Vpon mine Honor, for a silken point

110Ile giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it.

111Nor. Why should the Gentleman that rode by Trauers

112Giue then such instances of Losse?

113L. Bar. Who, he?

114He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolne

115The Horse he rode-on: and vpon my life

116Speake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes.

118Nor. Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title-leafe,

119Fore-tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume:

120So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood

121Hath left a witnest Vsurpation.

122Say Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?

123Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)

124Where hatefull death put on his vgliest Maske

125To fright our party.

126North. How doth my Sonne, and Brother?

127Thou trembl'st; and the whitenesse in thy Cheeke

128Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.

129Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse,

130So dull, so dead in looke, so woe-be-gone,

131Drew Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night,

132And would haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd.

133But Priam found the Fire, ere he his Tongue:

134And I, my Percies death, ere thou report'st it.

135This, thou would'st say: Your Sonne did thus, and thus:

136Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble Dowglas,

137Stopping my greedy eare, with their bold deeds.

138But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed)

139Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise,

140Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead.

141Mor. Dowglas is liuing, and your Brother, yet:

142But for my Lord, your Sonne.

143North. Why, he is dead.

144See what a ready tongue Suspition hath:

145He that but feares the thing, he would not know,

146Hath by Instinct, knowledge from others Eyes,

147That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake (Morton)

148Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies,

149And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace,

150And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong.

151Mor. You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid:

152Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine.

153North. Yet for all this, say not that Percies dead.

154I see a strange Confession in thine Eye:

155Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne,

156To speake a truth. If he be slaine, say so:

157The Tongue offends not, that reports his death:

158And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead:

159Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue:

160Yet the first bringer of vnwelcome Newes

161Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue,

162Sounds euer after as a sullen Bell

163Remembred, knolling a departing Friend.

164L. Bar. I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead.

165Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to beleeue

166That, which I would to heauen, I had not seene.

167But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state,

168Rend'ring faint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd)

169To Henrie Monmouth, whose swift wrath beate downe

170The neuer-daunted Percie to the earth,

171From whence (with life) he neuer more sprung vp.

172In few; his death (whose spirit lent a fire,

173Euen to the dullest Peazant in his Campe)

174Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate away

175From the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes.

176For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd;

177Which once, in him abated, all the rest

178Turn'd on themselues, like dull and heauy Lead:

179And as the Thing, that's heauy in it selfe,

180Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speede,

181So did our Men, heauy in Hotspurres losse,

182Lend to this weight, such lightnesse with their Feare,

183That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their ayme,

184Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety)

185Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Worcester

186Too soone ta'ne prisoner: and that furious Scot,

187(The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring sword

188Had three times slaine th'appearance of the King,

189Gan vaile his stomacke, and did grace the shame

190Of those that turn'd their backes: and in his flight,

191Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The summe of all,

192Is, that the King hath wonne: and hath sent out

193A speedy power, to encounter you my Lord,

194Vnder the Conduct of yong Lancaster

195And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full.

196North. For this, I shall haue time enough to mourne.

197In Poyson, there is Physicke: and this newes

198(Hauing beene well) that would haue made me sicke,

199Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well.

200And as the Wretch, whose Feauer-weakned ioynts,

201Like strengthlesse Hindges, buckle vnder life,

202Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fire

203Out of his keepers armes: Euen so, my Limbes

204(Weak'ned with greefe) being now inrag'd with greefe,

205Are thrice themselues. Hence therefore thou nice crutch,

206A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of Steele

207Must gloue this hand. And hence thou sickly Quoife,

208Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,

209Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest, ayme to hit.

210Now binde my Browes with Iron, and approach

211The ragged'st houre, that Time and Spight dare bring

212To frowne vpon th'enrag'd Northumberland.

213Let Heauen kisse Earth: now let not Natures hand

214Keepe the wilde Flood confin'd: Let Order dye,

215And let the world no longer be a stage

216To feede Contention in a ling'ring Act:

217But let one spirit of the First-borne Caine

g Reigne