Bard.
Who keeps the gate here, hoa? where is the Earl?

Port.
What shall I say 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 some stratagem.
The times are wild: Contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.

Bard.
Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

North.
Good, if heav'n will!

Bard.
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 Dowglas; young Prince John,
And Westmorland, 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 dignifie the times
Since Cæsar's fortunes.

North.
How is this deriv'd?
Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?

Bard.
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.

North.
Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent
On Tuesday last, to listen after news.

Bard.
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.

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