_Tra._ My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back[3276] With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed, 35 Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard[3277] A gentleman, almost forspent 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: 40 He told me that rebellion had bad luck[3278] And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. With that, he gave his able horse the head, And bending forward struck his armed heels[3279] Against the panting sides of his poor jade 45 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? Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion[3280] 50 Had met ill luck?[3280] _L. Bard._ My lord, I'll tell you what;[3281] If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point I'll give my barony: never talk of it.[3282] _North._ Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers[3283] 55 Give then such instances of loss? _L. Bard._ Who, he? He was some hilding fellow that had stolen[3284] The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.[3285] _Enter_ MORTON. _North._ Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,[3286] 60 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: So looks the strond whereon the imperious flood[3287] Hath left a witness'd usurpation. Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? _Mor._ I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; 65 Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party. _North._ How doth my son and brother? Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 70 So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,[3288] Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,[3289] And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it. 75 This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus; Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:' Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds: But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,[3290] Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, 80 Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.' _Mor._ Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;[3291] But, for my lord your son,--