Since not to be avoided it falls on me.

K. Henry. Bear Worcester to his death, and Vernon too. Other offenders we will paufe upon.[Exe. Wor. and Vernon. How goes the field?

P. Henry. The gallant Scot, Lord Dowglas, when he saw The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, The noble Percy flain, and all his men Upon the foot of fear, filed with the reft; And falling from a hill, he was fo bruis'd That the purfuers took him. At my tent The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace I may difpofe of him.

K. Henry. With all my heart,

P. Henry. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you This honourable bounty fhall belong :

Go to the Douglas, and deliver him

Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free:

His valour, fhewn upon our crefts to-day,

Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds,

Ev'n in the bofom of our adverfaries.

Lan. I thank your grace for this high courtefie, Which I fhall give away immediately.

K. Henry. Then this remains; that we divide our power. You fon John, and my coufin Weftmorland,

Tow'rds York fhall bend you, with your dearest speed,
To meet Northumberland and Prelate Scroop,

Who, as we hear, are bufily in arms.

My felf and my fon Harry will tow'rds Wales,
To fight with Glendower and the Earl of Marche.
Rebellion in this land fhall lofe his sway,
Meeting the check of fuch another day;
And fince this bufinefs fo far fair is done,
Let us not leave, 'till all our own be won.

[Exeunt.

KING HENRY the Fourth.

Prince HENRY, afterwards crowned King Henry the Fifib.

Prince JoHN of Lancaster,

}

Sons to Henry the Fourth, and Brethren to Henry the Fiftb.

HUMPHREY of Gloucester,
THOMAS of Clarence,
NORTHUMBERLAND,
The Archbishop of York,
MOWBRAY,

HASTINGS,

Lord BARDOLPH,

TRAVERS,

MORTON,

COLEVILE,

PAGE,

SHALLOW and SILENCE, Country Juftices.

DAVY, Servant to Shallow.

PHANG and SNARE, two Serjeants.

INDUCTION.

Enter RUMOUR, painted full of Tongues.

Ο

PEN your ears: for which of you will ftop The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour Speaks? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my poft-horse, ftill unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth. Upon my tongues continual flanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports: I fpeak of peace, while covert enmity, Under the smile of fafety, wounds the world: And who but Rumour, who but only I, Make fearful mufters and prepar'd defence, Whilft the big ear, fwoln with fome other griefs, Is thought with child by the ftern tyrant war, And no fuch matter? Rumour is a pipe Blown by furmifes, jealoufies, conjectures;

H 2

And

And of fo eafie and so plain a stop,

That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The ftill-difcordant wavering multitude

Can play upon it. But what need I thus

My well-known body to anatomize

Among my houfhold? Why is Rumour here?
I run before King Harry's victory,
Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury

Hath beaten down young Hot-fpur and his troops;
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Ev'n with the rebels blood.

But what mean I
To speak so true at firft? my office is
To noife abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hot-fpur's fword;
And that the King before the Dowglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns,
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury,
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged ftone,
Where Hot-fpur's father, old Northumberland,
Lyes crafty-fick. The pofts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news

Than they have learn'd of me. From Rumour's tongues,
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.

SCENE I. Northumberland's Castle.

Enter Lord Bardolph; the Porter at the door.

[Exi

Bard. Who keeps the gate here, hoa? where is the Earl? Port. What fhall I fay you are?

Bard. 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.

Enter Northumberland.

Bard. Here's the Earl.

North. What news? Lord Bardolph ? ev'ry minute now Should be the father of fome ftratagem.

The times are wild: Contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loofe,

And