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SECOND PART OF
SCENE I.-The same.
The Porter before the Gate ; Enter Lord BARDOLPH.
say you are?
Port. What shall I
Tell thou the earl, That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard ; Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer.
Here comes the earl. North. What news, lord Bardolph ? every minute
Should be the father of some stratagem:
- some stratagem:) Some stratagen means here some great, important, or dreadful event.
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
North. Good, an heaven will!
As good as heart can wish:
How is this deriv'd ? Saw you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury ? Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from
Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way;
Enter TRAVERS. North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with
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 gentleman almost forspent with speed,
forspent —) To forspend is to waste, to exhaust.
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse:
My lord, I'll tell you what ;-
silken point] A point is a string tagged, or lace.
like to a title leaf,] It may not be amiss to observe, that, in the time of our poet, the title-page to an elegy, as well as every intermediate leaf, was totally black. I have several in my possession, written by Chapman, the translator of Homer, and ornamented in this manner. STEEVENS.
Hath left a witness'd usurpation. ?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord ;
How doth my son, and brother?
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet:
Why, he is dead.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid : Your spirit' is too true, your fears too certain.
North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye:
- a witness'd usurpation.] i.e. an attestation of its ravage. 8 Your spirit —] The impression upon your mind, by which you conceive the death of your son.
Thou shak'st thy head; and hold’st it fear, or sin,'
Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
Mor. 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 party steel'd; 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, 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 fled 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 slain the appearance of the king,