York.
Hie, good Sir Michell, bear this sealed Brief
With winged haste to the Lord Marshal,
This to my Cousin Scroop, and all the rest
To whom they are directed.
If you knew how much they do import,
You would make haste.

Sir Michell.
My good Lord, I guess their tenour.

York.
Like enough you do.
To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a Day,
Wherein the Fortune of ten thousand Men
Must bide the touch. For, Sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly given to understand,
The King, with mighty and quick-raised Power,
Meets with Lord Harry; and I fear, Sir Michell,
What with the Sickness of Northumberland,
Whose Power was in the first Proportion;
And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence,
Who with them was rated firmly too,
And comes not in, over-rul'd by Prophecies,
I fear the Power of Percy is too weak,
To wage an instant Trial with the King.

Sir Michell.
Why, my good Lord, you need not fear,
There is Dowglass, and Lord Mortimer.

York.
No, Mortimer is not there.

Sir Michell.
But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
And there is my Lord of Worcester,

And a Head of gallant Warriors,
Noble Gentlemen.

York.
And so there is, but yet the King hath drawn
The special Head of all the Land together:
The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmorland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more Corrivals, and dear Men
Of Estimation, and command in Arms.

Sir Michell.
Doubt not, my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd.

York.
I hope no less: Yet needful 'tis to fear,
And to prevent the worst, Sir Michell speed;
For if Lord Percy thrive not, e'er the King
Dismiss his Power, he means to visit us;
For he hath heard of our Confederacy,
And, 'tis but Wisdom to make strong against him:
Therefore make haste, I must go write again
To other Friends; and so farewel, Sir Michell. [Exeunt.

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