L. Bard. Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen[3284]
The horse he rode on, and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.[3285]
Enter Morton.
North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,[3286]60
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:
So looks the strond whereon the imperious flood[3287]
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;65
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
North. How doth my son and brother?
Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,70
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,[3288]
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,[3289]
And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.75
This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus;
Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:'
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,[3290]
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,80
Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.'
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;[3291]
But, for my lord your son,—
North. Why, he is dead.[3292]
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
He that but fears the thing he would not know85
Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes[3293]
That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;[3294]
Tell thou an earl his divination lies,[3295]
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.90
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.[3296]
I see a strange confession in thine eye:[3296]
Thou shakest thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin[3296]95
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so;[3296][3297]
The tongue offends not that reports his death:[3296]
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead;[3296]
Not he which says the dead is not alive.[3296]
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news[3296]100
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue[3296]
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,[3296]
Remember'd tolling a departing friend.[3296][3298]
L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.