[Exit Porter.]
NORTHUMBERLAND.
What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild; contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
LORD BARDOLPH.
Noble earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Good, an God will!
LORD BARDOLPH.
As good as heart can wish.
The King is almost wounded to the death;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Kill’d by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
So fought, so follow’d and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times
Since Caesar’s fortunes!
NORTHUMBERLAND.
How is this derived?
Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
LORD BARDOLPH.
I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
A gentleman well bred and of good name,
That freely render’d me these news for true.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent
On Tuesday last to listen after news.
Enter Travers.
LORD BARDOLPH.
My lord, I over-rode him on the way,
And he is furnish’d with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.