Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust? Three knights upon our party slain to day, A noble earl, and many a creature else, Had been alive this hour, If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies true intelligence. P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you This honourable bounty shall belong: Wor. What I have done, my safety urg'd me to; Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, And I embrace this fortune patiently, Since not to be avoided it falls on me. K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and Ver Even in the bosom of our adversaries. K. Hen. Then this remains, that we divide our power. You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest speed, To meet Northumberland, and the prelate Scroop, [Exeunt SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. PERSONS REPRESENTED. King Henry the Fourth. Henry, prince of Wales, afterwards King Henry V.; Thomas, duke of Clarence; Travers and Morton, domestics of Northumberland. Falstaff, Bardolph, Pistol, and Page. Poins and Peto, attendants on Prince Henry. Shallow and Silence, country Justices. Prince John of Lancaster, afterwards his sons. Davy, servant to Shallow. (2 Henry V.) duke of Bedford; Prince Humphrey of Gloster, afterwards (2 Henry V.) duke of Gloster; Earl of Warwick; Earl of Westmoreland; Gower; Harcourt; of the king's party. Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench. A Gentleman attending on the Chief Justice. Earl of Northumberland; Scroop, archbishop of York; Lord Mowbray; Lord Hastings; Lord Bardolph; Sir John Coleville; INDUCTION. enemies to the king. Warkworth. Before Northumberland's castle. Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues. Rum. Open your ears; For which of you will stop The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth: Upon my tongues continual slanders ride; The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. I speak of peace, while covert enmity, Under the smile of safety, wounds the world: And who but Rumour, who but only I, Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence; Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bullealf, re cruits. SCENE I.-The same. The Porter before the gate; Enter Lord Bardolph. Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho?-Where is the earl? Port. What shall I say you are? Tell thou the earl Whilst the big year, swoll'n with some other grief, That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here. Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the or chard; Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer. And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; And of so easy and so plain a stop, That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it. But what need I thus My well-known body to anatomize Bard. Among my household? Why is Rumour here? I run before king Harry's victory; Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I To noise abroad, -that Harry Monmouth fell (1) Northumberland's castle. Enter Northumberland. Here comes the earl. 412 And, in the fortune of my lord your son, North. How is this deriv'd? Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? thence; A gentleman well bred, and of good name, And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd: Your brother, thus; so fought the noble Douglas; See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath! Worth. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom He, that but fears the thing he would not know, I sent On Tuesday last to listen after news, Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; And he is furnish'd with no certainties, Enter Travers. North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come North. Ha!--Again, Sid he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what; If my young lord your son has not the day, I'll give my barony: never talk of it. Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace, And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead, North. Why should the gentleman, that rode by Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. Give then such instances of loss? Travers, Bard. He was some hilding sellow, that had stol'n And as the thing that's heavy in itself, Speke at a venture. Look, here comes more news, Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Enter Morton. North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, How doth my son, and brother? Fly from the field: Then was that noble Worcester North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn, |