The Second Part of the Henry the Fourth,
Contaning his Death: and the Coronation
of King Henry the Fift.
Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.
[Induction]
Conventionally in this play, the Induction precedes the first act and scene. From
this point in the act onwards, therefore, conventional scene numbering diverges from
the First Folio.
INDVCTION.
Enter Rumour.OPen your Eares: For which of you will stop
he vent of hearing, when loud
Rumour speakes?
from the Orient, to the drooping West
(Making the wind my Post‑horse) still vnfold
[5]
The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth.Vpon my Tongue, continuall Slanders ride,The which, in every Language, I pronounce,Stuffing the Eares of them with false Reports:I speak of Peace, while couert Enmitie
[10]
(Vnder the smile of Safety) wounds the World:And who but
Rumour, who but onely I
Make fearfull Musters, and prepar'd Defence,Whil'st the bigge yeare, swolne with some other griefes,Is thought with childe, by the sterne Tyrant, Warre,
[15]
And no such matter?
Rumour, is a Pipe
Blown by Surmises, Iealousies, Coniectures;And of so easie, and so plaine a stop,That the blunt Monster, with vncounted heads,The still discordant, wauering Multitude,
[20]
Can play vpon it. But what need I thusMy well‑knowne Body to AnatomizeAmong my houshold? Why is
Rumour heere?
I run before King
Harries victory,
Who in a bloodie field by Shrewsburie,
[25]
Hath beaten downe young
Hotspurre, and his Troopes,
Quenching the flame of bold Rebellion,Euen with the Rebels blood. But what meane ITo speak so true at first
? My Office is
To noyse abroad, that
Harry Monmouth fell
[30]
Vnder the Wrath of Noble
Hotspurres Sword:
And that the King, before the
Dowglas Rage
Stoop'd his Anointed head, as low as death.This haue I rumour'd through the peasant‑Townes,Between that Royall Field of Shrewsburie,
[35]
And this Worme‑eaten‑Hole of ragged Stone,Where
Hotspurres Father, old Northumberland,
Lyes craftysicke. The Posts come tyring on,And not a man of them brings other newesThen they haue learn'd of Me. From
Rumours Tongues,
[40]
They bring smooth‑Comforts‑false, worse than True‑
wrongs.
Exit.
Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.L. Bar.Who keeps the Gate heere hos?Where is the Earl?Por.What shall I say you are?Bar.Tell thou the Earle
[45]
That the Lord
Bardolfe doth attend him heere.
Por.His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard.Please it your Honour, knocke but at the Gate,And he himselfe will answer.Enter Northumberland.L. Bar.Here comes the Earle.Nor.
[50]
What news, Lord
Bardolfe? Every minute now
Should be the Father of some Stratagem;The Times are wilde: Contention (like a HorseFull of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose,And beares downe all before him.L. Bar.
[55]
Noble Earle,I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury.Nor.
Good, and heauen will.
L. Bar.As good as heart can wish:The King is almost wounded to the death:
[60]
And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,Prince
Harrie slaine out‑right: and both the
BluntsKill'd by the hand of
Dowglas. Young Prince
Iohn,
And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.And
Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir
Iohn)
[65]
Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day,(So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly wonne)Came not, till now, to dignifie the TimesSince Cæsars Fortunes.Nor.How is this deriu'd?
[70]
Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?L. Bar.I spake with one (my
L.
Lord) that came
frō
from thence,
A Gentleman, well bred, and of good name,That freely render'd me these news for true.Nor.Heere comes my Servant
Trauers, whom I sent
[75]
On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes.Enter TrauersL. Bar.My Lord, I ouer‑rod him on the way;And he is furnish'd with no certainties,More then he (haply) may retaile from me.Nor.Now Trauers, what good tidings comes
frō
from you?
Tra.
Scena Secunda.
[Act 1, Scene 1]
Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.L. Bar.Who keeps the Gate heere hos?Where is the Earl?Por.What shall I say you are?Bar.Tell thou the Earle
[45]
That the Lord
Bardolfe doth attend him heere.
Por.His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard.Please it your Honour, knocke but at the Gate,And he himselfe will answer.Enter Northumberland.L. Bar.Here comes the Earle.Nor.
[50]
What news, Lord
Bardolfe? Every minute now
Should be the Father of some Stratagem;The Times are wilde: Contention (like a HorseFull of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose,And beares downe all before him.L. Bar.
[55]
Noble Earle,I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury.Nor.
Good, and heauen will.
L. Bar.As good as heart can wish:The King is almost wounded to the death:
[60]
And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,Prince
Harrie slaine out‑right: and both the
BluntsKill'd by the hand of
Dowglas. Young Prince
Iohn,
And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.And
Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir
Iohn)
[65]
Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day,(So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly wonne)Came not, till now, to dignifie the TimesSince Cæsars Fortunes.Nor.How is this deriu'd?
[70]
Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?L. Bar.I spake with one (my
L.
Lord) that came
frō
from thence,
A Gentleman, well bred, and of good name,That freely render'd me these news for true.Nor.Heere comes my Servant
Trauers, whom I sent
[75]
On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes.Enter TrauersL. Bar.My Lord, I ouer‑rod him on the way;And he is furnish'd with no certainties,More then he (haply) may retaile from me.Nor.Now Trauers, what good tidings comes
frō
from you?
Tra.
[80]
My Lord, Sit
Iohn Vmfreuill turn'd me backe
With ioyfull tydings; and (being better hors'd)Out‑rod me. After him, came spurring headA Gentleman (almost fore‑spent with speed)That stopp'd by me, to breath his bloodied horse.
[85]
He ask'd the way to Chester: And of himI did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury:He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke,And that yong
Harry Percies Spurre was cold.
With that he gaue his able Horse the head,
[90]
And bending forwards strooke his able heelesAgainst the panting sides of his poore IadeVp to the Rowell head, and starting so,He seem'd in running, to deuoure the way,staying no longer question.North.
[95]
Ha? Againe:Said he yong
Harrie Percyes Spurre was cold?
(Of
Hot‑Spurre, cold‑Spurre?) that Rebellion,
Had met ill lucke?L. Bar.My Lord: Ile tell you what,
[100]
If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day,Vpon mine Honor, for a silken pointIle giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it.Nor.Why should the Gentleman that rode by
TrauersGiue then such instances of Losse?L. Bar.
[105]
Who, he?He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolneThe Horse he rode‑on: and vpon my lifeSpeake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes.Enter Morton.Nor.Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title‑leafe,
[110]
Fore‑tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume:So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious FloodHath left a witnest Vsurpation.Say
Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor.I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)
[115]
Where hatefull death put on his vgliest MaskeTo fright our party.North.How doth my Sonne, and Brother?Thou trembl'st; and the whitenesse in thy CheekeIs apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.
[120]
Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse,So dull, so dead in looke, so woe‑be‑gone,Drew
Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night,
And would haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd.But
Priam found the Fire, ere he his Tongue:
[125]
And I, my
Percies death, ere thou report'st it.
This, thou would'st say; Your Sonne did thus, and thus:Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble
Dowglas,
Stopping my greedy care, with their bold deeds.But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed)
[130]
Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise,Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead.Mor.Dowglas is liuing, and your Brother, yet:But for my Lord, your Sonne.North.Why he is dead.
[135]
See what a ready tongue Suspition hath:He that but feares the thing, he would not know,Hath by Instinct, knowledge from others Eyes,That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake (
Morton)
Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies,
[140]
And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace,And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong.Mor.You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid:Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine.North.Yet for all this, say not that
Percies dead.
[145]
I see a strange Confession in thine Eye:Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne,To speake a truth. If he be slaine, say so:The Tongue offends not, that reports his death:And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead:
[150]
Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue:Yet the first bringer of unwelcome NewesHath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue,Sounds ever after as a sullen BellRemembred, knolling a departing Friend.L. Bar.
[155]
I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead.Mor.I am sorry, I should force you to beleeueThat, which I would to heauen, I had not seene.But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state,Rendering faint quittance (wearied, and out‑breath'd).
[160]
To
Henrie Monmouth, whose swift wrath beate downe
The neuer‑daunted
Percie 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 Peazant in his Campe)
[165]
Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate awayFrom the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes.For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd;Which once, in him abated, all the restTurn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy Lead:
[170]
And as the Thing, that's heauy in it selfe,Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speede,So did our Men, heavy in
Hotspurres losse,
Lend to this weight, such lightnesse with their Feare,That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their ayme,
[175]
Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety)Fly from the field. Then was that Noble WorcesterToo soone ta'ne prisoner: and that furious Scot,(The bloody
Dowglas) whose well‑labouring sword
Had three times slaine th'appearance of the King,
[180]
Gan vaile his stomacke, and did grace the shameOf those that turn'd their backes: and in his flight,Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The summe of all,Is, that the King hath wonne: and hath sent outA speedy power, to encounter you my Lord,
[185]
Vnder the Conduct of yong LancasterAnd Westmerland. This is the Newes at full.North.For this, I shall haue time enough to mourne.In Poyson, there is Physicke: and this newes(Having beene well) that would have made me sicke,
[190]
Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well.And as the Wretch, whose Feauer‑weakned ioynts,Like strengthlesse Hindges, buckle vnder life,Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fireOut of his keepers armes: Even so, my Limbes
[195]
(Weak'ned with greefe) beingnow inrag'd with greefe,Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore thou nice crutch,A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of SteeleMust gloue this hand. And hence thou sickly Quoife,Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
[200]
Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest, ayme to hit.Now binde my Browes with Iron, and approachThe ragged'st houre, that Time and Spight dare bringTo frowne vpon th'enrag'd Northumberland.Let Heauen kisse Earth: now let not Natures hand
[205]
Keepe the wilde flood confin'd: Let Order dye,And let the world no longer be a stageTo feede Contention in a ling'ring Act:But let one spirit of the First‑borne
CaineReigne in all bosomes, that each heart being set
[210]
On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end,And darknesse be the burier of the dead.L. Bar.Sweet Earle, divorce not wisedom from your
(Honor.
Mor.The liues of all your loving ComplicesLeane‑on your health, the which if you giue‑o're
[215]
To stormy Passion, must perforce decay.You cast th'euent of Warre (my Noble Lord)And summ'd the accompt of Chance, before you saidLet vs make head: It was your presurmize,That in the dole of blowes, your Son might drop.
[220]
You knew he walk'd o're perils, on an edgeMore likely to fall in, then to get o're:You were aduis'd his flesh was capeableOf Wounds, and Scarres; and that his forward SpiritWould lift him, where most trade of danger rang'd,
[225]
Yet did you say go forth: and none of this(Though strongly apprehended) could restraineThe stiffe‑borne Action: What hath then befalne?Or what hath this bold enterprize bring forth,More then that Being, which was like to be?L. Bar.
[230]
We all that are engaged to this losse,Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous Seas,That if we wrought out life, was ten to one:And yet we ventur'd for the gaine propos'd,Choak'd the respect of likely perill fear'd,
[235]
And since we are o're‑set, venture againe.Come, we will all put forth; Body, and Goods,Mor.'Tis more then time: And (my most Noble Lord)I heare for certaine, and do speake the truth:The gentle Arch‑bishop of Yorke is vp
[240]
With well appointed Powres: he is a manWho with a double Surety bindes his Followers.My Lord (your Sonne) had onely but the Corpes,But shadowes, and the shewes of men to fight.For that same word (Rebellion) did diuide
[245]
The action of their bodies, from their soules,And they did fight with queasinesse, constrain'dAs men drinke Potions; that their Weapons onlySeem'd on our side: but for their Spirits and Soules,This word (Rebellion) it had froze them vp.
[250]
As Fish are in a Pond. But now the BishopTurnes Insurrection to Religion,Suppos'd sincere, and holy in his Thoughts:He's follow'd both with Body, and with Minde:And doth enlarge his Rising, with the blood
[255]
Of faire King
Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones,
Deriues from heauen, his Quarrell, and his Cause:Tels them, he doth bestride a bleeding Land,Gasping for life, under great
Bullingbrooke,
And more, and lesse, do flocke to follow him.North.
[260]
I knew of this before. But to speake truth,This present greefe had wip'd it from my minde.Go in with me, and councell every manThe aptest way for safety, and reuenge:Get Posts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed,
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="1" rend="notPresent">
<head rend="italic center">Scena Secunda.</head>
<head type="supplied">[Act 1, Scene 1]</head>
<cb n="2"/>
<stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.</stage>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="41">Who keeps the Gate heere hos?</l>
<l n="42">Where is the Earl?</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-por">
<speaker rend="italic">Por.</speaker>
<l n="43">What shall I say you are?</l>
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<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">Bar.</speaker>
<l n="44">Tell thou the Earle</l>
<l n="45">That the Lord<hi rend="italic">Bardolfe</hi>doth attend him heere.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-por">
<speaker rend="italic">Por.</speaker>
<l n="46">His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard.</l>
<l n="47">Please it your Honour, knocke but at the Gate,</l>
<l n="48">And he himselfe will answer.</l>
</sp>
<stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Northumberland.</stage>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="49">Here comes the Earle.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
<l n="50">What news, Lord<hi rend="italic">Bardolfe</hi>? Every minute now</l>
<l n="51">Should be the Father of some Stratagem;</l>
<l n="52">The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse</l>
<l n="53">Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose,</l>
<l n="54">And beares downe all before him.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="55">Noble Earle,</l>
<l n="56">I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
<p n="57">Good, and heauen will.</p>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="58">As good as heart can wish:</l>
<l n="59">The King is almost wounded to the death:</l>
<l n="60">And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,</l>
<l n="61">Prince<hi rend="italic">Harrie</hi>slaine out‑right: and both the<hi rend="italic">Blunts</hi>
</l>
<l n="62">Kill'd by the hand of<hi rend="italic">Dowglas</hi>. Young Prince<hi rend="italic">Iohn</hi>,</l>
<l n="63">And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.</l>
<l n="64">And<hi rend="italic">Harrie Monmouth's</hi>Brawne (the Hulke Sir<hi rend="italic">Iohn</hi>)</l>
<l n="65">Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day,</l>
<l n="66">(So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly wonne)</l>
<l n="67">Came not, till now, to dignifie the Times</l>
<l n="68">Since Cæsars Fortunes.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
<l n="69">How is this deriu'd?</l>
<l n="70">Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="71">I spake with one (my<choice>
<abbr>L.</abbr>
<expan>Lord</expan>
</choice>) that came<choice>
<abbr>frō</abbr>
<expan>from</expan>
</choice>thence,</l>
<l n="72">A Gentleman, well bred, and of good name,</l>
<l n="73">That freely render'd me these news for true.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
<l n="74">Heere comes my Servant<hi rend="italic">Trauers</hi>, whom I sent</l>
<l n="75">On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes.</l>
</sp>
<stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Trauers</stage>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="76">My Lord, I ouer‑rod him on the way;</l>
<l n="77">And he is furnish'd with no certainties,</l>
<l n="78">More then he (haply) may retaile from me.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
<l n="79">Now Trauers, what good tidings comes<choice>
<abbr>frō</abbr>
<expan>from</expan>
</choice>you?</l>
</sp>
<pb facs="FFimg:axc0397-0.jpg" n="75"/>
<cb n="1"/>
<sp who="#F-2h4-tra">
<speaker rend="italic">Tra.</speaker>
<l n="80">My Lord, Sit<hi rend="italic">Iohn Vmfreuill</hi>turn'd me backe</l>
<l n="81">With ioyfull tydings; and (being better hors'd)</l>
<l n="82">Out‑rod me. After him, came spurring head</l>
<l n="83">A Gentleman (almost fore‑spent with speed)</l>
<l n="84">That stopp'd by me, to breath his bloodied horse.</l>
<l n="85">He ask'd the way to Chester: And of him</l>
<l n="86">I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury:</l>
<l n="87">He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke,</l>
<l n="88">And that yong<hi rend="italic">Harry Percies</hi>Spurre was cold.</l>
<l n="89">With that he gaue his able Horse the head,</l>
<l n="90">And bending forwards strooke his able heeles</l>
<l n="91">Against the panting sides of his poore Iade</l>
<l n="92">Vp to the Rowell head, and starting so,</l>
<l n="93">He seem'd in running, to deuoure the way,</l>
<l n="94">staying no longer question.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">North.</speaker>
<l n="95">Ha? Againe:</l>
<l n="96">Said he yong<hi rend="italic">Harrie Percyes</hi>Spurre was cold?</l>
<l n="97">(Of<hi rend="italic">Hot‑Spurre</hi>, cold‑Spurre?) that Rebellion,</l>
<l n="98">Had met ill lucke?</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="99">My Lord: Ile tell you what,</l>
<l n="100">If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day,</l>
<l n="101">Vpon mine Honor, for a silken point</l>
<l n="102">Ile giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
<l n="103">Why should the Gentleman that rode by<hi rend="italic">Trauers</hi>
</l>
<l n="104">Giue then such instances of Losse?</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="105">Who, he?</l>
<l n="106">He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolne</l>
<l n="107">The Horse he rode‑on: and vpon my life</l>
<l n="108">Speake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes.</l>
</sp>
<stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Morton.</stage>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
<l n="109">Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title‑leafe,</l>
<l n="110">Fore‑tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume:</l>
<l n="111">So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood</l>
<l n="112">Hath left a witnest Vsurpation.</l>
<l n="113">Say<hi rend="italic">Morton</hi>, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-mor">
<speaker rend="italic">Mor.</speaker>
<l n="114">I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)</l>
<l n="115">Where hatefull death put on his vgliest Maske</l>
<l n="116">To fright our party.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">North.</speaker>
<l n="117">How doth my Sonne, and Brother?</l>
<l n="118">Thou trembl'st; and the whitenesse in thy Cheeke</l>
<l n="119">Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.</l>
<l n="120">Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse,</l>
<l n="121">So dull, so dead in looke, so woe‑be‑gone,</l>
<l n="122">Drew<hi rend="italic">Priams</hi>Curtaine, in the dead of night,</l>
<l n="123">And would haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd.</l>
<l n="124">But<hi rend="italic">Priam</hi>found the Fire, ere he his Tongue:</l>
<l n="125">And I, my<hi rend="italic">Percies</hi>death, ere thou report'st it.</l>
<l n="126">This, thou would'st say; Your Sonne did thus, and thus:</l>
<l n="127">Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble<hi rend="italic">Dowglas</hi>,</l>
<l n="128">Stopping my greedy care, with their bold deeds.</l>
<l n="129">But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed)</l>
<l n="130">Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise,</l>
<l n="131">Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-mor">
<speaker rend="italic">Mor.</speaker>
<l n="132">Dowglas is liuing, and your Brother, yet:</l>
<l n="133">But for my Lord, your Sonne.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">North.</speaker>
<l n="134">Why he is dead.</l>
<l n="135">See what a ready tongue Suspition hath:</l>
<l n="136">He that but feares the thing, he would not know,</l>
<l n="137">Hath by Instinct, knowledge from others Eyes,</l>
<l n="138">That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake (<hi rend="italic">Morton</hi>)</l>
<l n="139">Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies,</l>
<l n="140">And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace,</l>
<l n="141">And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-mor">
<speaker rend="italic">Mor.</speaker>
<l n="142">You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid:</l>
<cb n="2"/>
<l n="143">Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">North.</speaker>
<l n="144">Yet for all this, say not that<hi rend="italic">Percies</hi>dead.</l>
<l n="145">I see a strange Confession in thine Eye:</l>
<l n="146">Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne,</l>
<l n="147">To speake a truth. If he be slaine, say so:</l>
<l n="148">The Tongue offends not, that reports his death:</l>
<l n="149">And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead:</l>
<l n="150">Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue:</l>
<l n="151">Yet the first bringer of unwelcome Newes</l>
<l n="152">Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue,</l>
<l n="153">Sounds ever after as a sullen Bell</l>
<l n="154">Remembred, knolling a departing Friend.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="155">I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-mor">
<speaker rend="italic">Mor.</speaker>
<l n="156">I am sorry, I should force you to beleeue</l>
<l n="157">That, which I would to heauen, I had not seene.</l>
<l n="158">But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state,</l>
<l n="159">Rendering faint quittance (wearied, and out‑breath'd).</l>
<l n="160">To<hi rend="italic">Henrie Monmouth</hi>, whose swift wrath beate downe</l>
<l n="161">The neuer‑daunted<hi rend="italic">Percie</hi>to the earth,</l>
<l n="162">From whence (with life) he never more sprung up.</l>
<l n="163">In few; his death (whose spirit lent a fire,</l>
<l n="164">Even to the dullest Peazant in his Campe)</l>
<l n="165">Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate away</l>
<l n="166">From the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes.</l>
<l n="167">For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd;</l>
<l n="168">Which once, in him abated, all the rest</l>
<l n="169">Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy Lead:</l>
<l n="170">And as the Thing, that's heauy in it selfe,</l>
<l n="171">Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speede,</l>
<l n="172">So did our Men, heavy in<hi rend="italic">Hotspurres</hi>losse,</l>
<l n="173">Lend to this weight, such lightnesse with their Feare,</l>
<l n="174">That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their ayme,</l>
<l n="175">Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety)</l>
<l n="176">Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Worcester</l>
<l n="177">Too soone ta'ne prisoner: and that furious Scot,</l>
<l n="178">(The bloody<hi rend="italic">Dowglas)</hi>whose well‑labouring sword</l>
<l n="179">Had three times slaine th'appearance of the King,</l>
<l n="180">Gan vaile his stomacke, and did grace the shame</l>
<l n="181">Of those that turn'd their backes: and in his flight,</l>
<l n="182">Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The summe of all,</l>
<l n="183">Is, that the King hath wonne: and hath sent out</l>
<l n="184">A speedy power, to encounter you my Lord,</l>
<l n="185">Vnder the Conduct of yong Lancaster</l>
<l n="186">And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">North.</speaker>
<l n="187">For this, I shall haue time enough to mourne.</l>
<l n="188">In Poyson, there is Physicke: and this newes</l>
<l n="189">(Having beene well) that would have made me sicke,</l>
<l n="190">Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well.</l>
<l n="191">And as the Wretch, whose Feauer‑weakned ioynts,</l>
<l n="192">Like strengthlesse Hindges, buckle vnder life,</l>
<l n="193">Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fire</l>
<l n="194">Out of his keepers armes: Even so, my Limbes</l>
<l n="195">(Weak'ned with greefe) beingnow inrag'd with greefe,</l>
<l n="196">Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore thou nice crutch,</l>
<l n="197">A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of Steele</l>
<l n="198">Must gloue this hand. And hence thou sickly Quoife,</l>
<l n="199">Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,</l>
<l n="200">Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest, ayme to hit.</l>
<l n="201">Now binde my Browes with Iron, and approach</l>
<l n="202">The ragged'st houre, that Time and Spight dare bring</l>
<l n="203">To frowne vpon th'enrag'd Northumberland.</l>
<l n="204">Let Heauen kisse Earth: now let not Natures hand</l>
<l n="205">Keepe the wilde flood confin'd: Let Order dye,</l>
<l n="206">And let the world no longer be a stage</l>
<l n="207">To feede Contention in a ling'ring Act:</l>
<l n="208">But let one spirit of the First‑borne<hi rend="italic">Caine</hi>
</l>
<pb facs="FFimg:axc0398-0.jpg" n="76"/>
<cb n="1"/>
<l n="209">Reigne in all bosomes, that each heart being set</l>
<l n="210">On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end,</l>
<l n="211">And darknesse be the burier of the dead.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="212">Sweet Earle, divorce not wisedom from your
<lb rend="turnover"/>
<pc rend="turnover">(</pc>Honor.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-mor">
<speaker rend="italic">Mor.</speaker>
<l n="213">The liues of all your loving Complices</l>
<l n="214">Leane‑on your health, the which if you giue‑o're</l>
<l n="215">To stormy Passion, must perforce decay.</l>
<l n="216">You cast th'euent of Warre (my Noble Lord)</l>
<l n="217">And summ'd the accompt of Chance, before you said</l>
<l n="218">Let vs make head: It was your presurmize,</l>
<l n="219">That in the dole of blowes, your Son might drop.</l>
<l n="220">You knew he walk'd o're perils, on an edge</l>
<l n="221">More likely to fall in, then to get o're:</l>
<l n="222">You were aduis'd his flesh was capeable</l>
<l n="223">Of Wounds, and Scarres; and that his forward Spirit</l>
<l n="224">Would lift him, where most trade of danger rang'd,</l>
<l n="225">Yet did you say go forth: and none of this</l>
<l n="226">(Though strongly apprehended) could restraine</l>
<l n="227">The stiffe‑borne Action: What hath then befalne?</l>
<l n="228">Or what hath this bold enterprize bring forth,</l>
<l n="229">More then that Being, which was like to be?</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
<speaker rend="italic">L. Bar.</speaker>
<l n="230">We all that are engaged to this losse,</l>
<l n="231">Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous Seas,</l>
<l n="232">That if we wrought out life, was ten to one:</l>
<l n="233">And yet we ventur'd for the gaine propos'd,</l>
<l n="234">Choak'd the respect of likely perill fear'd,</l>
<l n="235">And since we are o're‑set, venture againe.</l>
<l n="236">Come, we will all put forth; Body, and Goods,</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-mor">
<speaker rend="italic">Mor.</speaker>
<l n="237">'Tis more then time: And (my most Noble Lord)</l>
<l n="238">I heare for certaine, and do speake the truth:</l>
<l n="239">The gentle Arch‑bishop of Yorke is vp</l>
<l n="240">With well appointed Powres: he is a man</l>
<l n="241">Who with a double Surety bindes his Followers.</l>
<l n="242">My Lord (your Sonne) had onely but the Corpes,</l>
<l n="243">But shadowes, and the shewes of men to fight.</l>
<l n="244">For that same word (Rebellion) did diuide</l>
<l n="245">The action of their bodies, from their soules,</l>
<l n="246">And they did fight with queasinesse, constrain'd</l>
<l n="247">As men drinke Potions; that their Weapons only</l>
<l n="248">Seem'd on our side: but for their Spirits and Soules,</l>
<l n="249">This word (Rebellion) it had froze them vp.</l>
<l n="250">As Fish are in a Pond. But now the Bishop</l>
<l n="251">Turnes Insurrection to Religion,</l>
<l n="252">Suppos'd sincere, and holy in his Thoughts:</l>
<l n="253">He's follow'd both with Body, and with Minde:</l>
<l n="254">And doth enlarge his Rising, with the blood</l>
<l n="255">Of faire King<hi rend="italic">Richard</hi>, scrap'd from Pomfret stones,</l>
<l n="256">Deriues from heauen, his Quarrell, and his Cause:</l>
<l n="257">Tels them, he doth bestride a bleeding Land,</l>
<l n="258">Gasping for life, under great<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrooke</hi>,</l>
<l n="259">And more, and lesse, do flocke to follow him.</l>
</sp>
<sp who="#F-2h4-nor">
<speaker rend="italic">North.</speaker>
<l n="260">I knew of this before. But to speake truth,</l>
<l n="261">This present greefe had wip'd it from my minde.</l>
<l n="262">Go in with me, and councell every man</l>
<l n="263">The aptest way for safety, and reuenge:</l>
<l n="264">Get Posts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed,</l>
<l n="265">Neuer so few, nor neuer yet more need.</l>
</sp>
<stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>
