INDUCTION. Enter RUMOUR.
Open your Ears: For which of you will stop
The vent of hearing, when loud Rumor speaks?
I, from the Orient, to the drooping West,
Making the Wind my Post-horse, still unfold
The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth.
Upon my Tongue continual Slanders ride,
The which, in every Language, I pronounce,
Stuffing the Ears of them with false Reports:

I speak of Peace, while covert Enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the World:
And who but Rumor, who but only I
Make fearful Musters, and prepar'd Defence;
Whilst the big Year, swol'n with some other Griefs,
Is thought with Child, by the stern Tyrant War;
And no such matter. Rumor is a Pipe
Blown by Surmise, and Jealousies Conjectures;
And of so easie, and so plain a stop,
That the blunt Monster, with uncounted Heads
The still discordant, wavering Multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known Body to Anatomize
Among my Houshold? Why is Rumor here?
I run before King Harry's Victory,
Who in a bloody Field by Shrewsbury
Hath beaten down young Hot-spur, and his Troops,
Quenching the Flame of bold Rebellion,
Even with the Rebels Blood. But what mean I
To speak of Truth at first? My Office is
To noise abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the Wrath of noble Hot-spur's Sword:
And that the King, before the Dowglass Rage,
Stoop'd his anointed Head, as low as death.
This have I rumor'd through the Peasant Towns,
Between the Royal Field of Shrewsbury,
And this Worm-eaten hole of ragged Stone,
Where Hot-spur's Father, old Northumberland,
Lyes crafty Sick. The Posts come tyring on,
And not a Man of them brings other News
Than they have learn'd of me. From Rumor's Tongues
They bring smooth-comforts-false, worse than true Wrongs. [Exit.

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