Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevil turn'd me back With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd, Out-rode me. "After him came fpurring hard "A gentleman, almoft fore-spent with speed, "That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horfe: "He ask'd the way to Chefter; 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, ftruck his agile heels Against the panting fides of his poor jade Up to the rowel-head; and, ftarting fo, He feem'd in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question.

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North. Ha? again:

Said he, young Harry Percy's fpur was cold?
Rebellion had ill luck?

Bard. My lord, I'll tell you;

If my young lord your fon have not the day,
Upon mine Honour, for a filken point

I'll give my Barony. Ne'er talk of it.

North. Why fhould the gentleman, that rode by Travers,

Give then fuch inftances of lofs?

Bard. Who he?

2

He was fome hilding fellow, that had stoll'n
The horse he rode on; and, upon my life,

Spake at adventure. Look, here comes more news.

North. "Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, "Foretels the Nature of a tragick volume:

2 -fome bilding fellow,-] For hinderling, i. e. bafe, dege

nerate.

Mr. Pope.

" So

"So looks the ftrond, whereon th' imperious flood "Hath left a witness'd ufurpation.

Say, Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mort. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
Where hateful Death put on his ugliest Mask
To fright our Party.

North. How doth my fon, and Brother? "Thou trembleft; and the whiteness in thy cheek "Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. "Even fuch a man, fo faint, fo fpiritless, <3 So dull, fo dead in look, fo woe-be-gone, "Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, "And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd: "But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue; And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'ft it. This thou would'ft say: your Son did thus, and thus; Your brother, thus: fo fought the noble Dowglas: Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds. But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed, Thou haft a figh to blow away this praise, Ending with brother, fon, and all are dead!

Mort. Dowglas is living, and your brother, yet; But for my lord your fon-

North. Why, he is dead.

See, what a ready tongue fufpicion hath!
He, that but fears the thing he would not know,
Hath, by instinct, knowledge + from other's eyes,

3 So dull, fo dead in look, fo woe-be-gone,] The conjecture of a famous critic on this paffage was pleafant. He had never feen the word before, he had no conception of its meaning, and therefore would have it that the Poet wrote,

So dull, fo dead in look, Ucalegon

Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, &c.

Because Virgil fays,

- jam proximus ardet Ucalegon.

Yet the word was common enough amongst the old Scotish and English poets, as G. Douglas, Chaucer, lord Buckhurst, Fairfax; and fignifies, far gone in woe.

4 from other eyes,] We should read other's eyes.

That

That what he fear'd is chanc'd. Yet, Morton, fpeak: Tell thou thy Earl, his Divination lies;

And I will take as a sweet Difgrace,

And make thee rich for doing me fuch wrong.
Mort. You are too Great to be by me gainfaid:
Your fpirit is too true, your fears too certain.
North. Yet for all this, fay not, that Percy's dead.
I see a strange confeffion in thine eye :

Thou fhak'ft thy head, and 5 hold'ft it fear, or fin,
To speak a truth. If he be flain, say so:
The tongue offends not, that reports his death:
And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead,
Not he, which fays the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a lofing office: and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a fullen bell,
Remember'd, tolling a departing friend.

Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your fon is dead.
Mort. I'm forry, I fhould force you to believe
That, which, I would to heav'n, I had not seen.
But thefe mine eyes faw him in bloody ftate,
Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd,
To Henry Monmouth; whofe fwift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,

From whence, with life, he never more sprung up.
In few; his death, (whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullest peafant in his Camp)
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best-temper'd courage in his troops.
'For from his metal was his party fteel'd;
Which once in him rebated, all the reft

Turn'd

5 bold ft it fear, or fin.] Fear, for danger. 6 For from his metal was his party feel'd; Which once in him ABATED. -] The word metal is one of thofe hacknied metaphorical terms, which resumes so much of a literal fenfe as not to need the idea (from whence the figure is taken) to be kept up. So that it may with elegance enough be faid, bis metal was abated, as well as his courage was abated. VOL. IV.

P

See

what

Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing, that's heavy in its felf,
Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed;
So did our men, heavy in Hot-fpur's loss,
Lend to this weight fuch lightness with their fear,
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim,
Than did our foldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was that noble Wor'fter
Too foon ta'en prifoner: and that furious Scot,
The bloody Dowglas, whofe well-labouring fword
Had three times flain th' appearance of the King,
'Gan vail his ftomach, and did grace the fhame
Of those that turn'd their backs; and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The fum of all
Is, that the King hath won: and hath fent out
A fpeedy Pow'r to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.

North. For this, I fhall have time enough to mourn.
In poifon there is phyfick: and this news,
That would, had I been well, have made me fick,
Being fick, hath in fome measure made me well.
And as the wretch, whofe feaver-weaken'd joints,
Like ftrengthlefs hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire

Out of his keeper's arms; ev'n fo my limbs, Weaken'd with grief, being now inrag'd with grief, Are thrice themfelves. "Hence therefore, thou nice crutch;

what is faid on this fubject, Note 7 on Love's labour loft. A& V. But when the writer fhews, as here, both before and after, [-his party feel'd turn'd on themselves like dull and heavy lead] that his intention was not to drop the idea from whence he took his metaphor, then he cannot fay with propriety and elegance, his metal was abated; because what he predicates of metal, muft be then convey'd in a term conformable to the metaphor. Hence I conclude that Shakespear wrote,

Which once in bim REBATED, i. e. blunted.

A

"A fcaly gauntlet now with joints of steel "Muft glove this hand. And hence, thou fickly quoif, "Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, "Which Princes, flefh'd with conqueft, aim to hit. "Now bind my brows with iron, and approach "The ruggedit hour that time and spight dare bring "To frown upon th'enrag'd Northumberland! "Let heav'n kifs earth! now let not nature's hand Keep the wild flood confin'd; let order die, "And let this world no longer be a stage "To feed contention in a lingring act : "But let one spirit of the first-born Cain

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Reign in all bofoms, that each heart being fet "On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, "And darkness be the burier of the dead! [lord! Bard. 7 This ftrained paffion doth you wrong, my Sweet Earl, divorce not wifdom from your honour. Mort. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er To ftormy paffion, muft perforce decay.

You caft th' event of war, my noble lord, And fumm'd th' account of chance, before you faid, Let us make head: it was your prefurmife, That, in the dole of blows, your fon might drop: You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge More likely to fall in, than to get o'er: You were advis'd, his flesh was capable Of wounds and scars; and that his forward spirit Would lift him where moft trade of danger rang'd:

7 This firained paffion, &c.] This line is only in the first edition, where it is spoken by Umfreville, who fpeaks no where elfe. It feems neceffary to the connection. Mr. Pope.

3 You caft th' event of the war, &c.] The fourteen lines from hence to Bardolph's next fpeech, are not to be found in the first editions till that in Folio of 1623. A very great number of other lines in this play are inferted after the first edition in like manner, but of fuch fpirit and mastery generally, that the infertions are plainly by Shakespear himself." Mr. Pope.

P 2

Yet