North.
Now Travers, what good tidings come with you?

Tra.
My lord, Sir John Umfrevil turn'd me back
With joyful tidings; and being better hors'd
Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman, almost fore-spent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse:
He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury?
He told me, that rebellion had ill luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head,
And bending forward, struck his ^{c note}agile heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head, and starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.

North.
Ha? again:
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Rebellion had ill luck?

Bard.
My lord, I'll tell you.
If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honour, for a silken point
I'll give my barony. Ne'er talk of it.

North.
Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers
Give then such instances of loss?

Bard.
Who he?

He was some † ^notehilding fellow, that had stol'n
The horse he rode on; and upon my life
Spake at adventure. Look, here comes more news.

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