But in the end, to ftop mine ear indeed,

Thou haft a figh to blow away this prafe,
Ending with brother, fon, and all are dead!
Mort. Dowglas is living, and your brother, yet;
But for my lord your fon

for
North. Why, he is dead.

See, what a ready tongue fufpicion hath.

He, that but but fears the thing he would not know,
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from other's eyes,
That what he fear'd is chanc'd. Yet, Morton, speak,
Tell thou thy Earl, his Divination lies;

And I will take it as a fweet Difgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me fuch wrong.

Mort. You are too Great, to be by me gainfaid:
3 Your fpirit is too true, your fears too certain.
North. Yet for all this, fay not, that Percy's dead.
I fee a ftrange confeffion in thine eye,

4

Thou shak'ft thy head, and holdft it

fear, or fin,

To speak a truth. If he be flain,
Jury fo.

The tongue offends not, that reports
his death;

And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead,

Not he that faith the dead is not alive.

Morton. 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.

Here is a natural interpofition of Bardolph at the beginning, who is not pleased to hear his news confuted, and a proper preparation of Morton for the tale which he is unwilling to tell.

Thou

6

A

Thou fhak'st thy head, and hold'ft it fear, or fin, 147
To fpeak a truth. If he be flain, fay fo,
The tongue offends not, that reports his death;
And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead, rog! J
Not he, which fays the dead is not alive... too bib of
Yet the firft bringer of unwelcome news sitit of bus. I
Hath but a lofing office, and his tongue wont f
Sounds ever after as a fullen bell, no bib mull
Remember'd, tolling a departing friend. od most yld
Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your fon is dead. T
Mort. I'm forry, I fhould force you to believed
That, which, I would to heav'n, I had not feen;:
But thefe mine eyes faw him in bloody ftate, P
Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd,
To Henry Monmouth; whofe fwift wrath beat down.
The never-daunted Percy to the earth, sen
From whence, with life, he never more fprung up..
In few, his death, whofe fpirit lent a fire
Even to the dulleft peafant in his Camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the beft-temper'd courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party fteel'd;

7

them.

翼

Which

$ -bold it fear, or fin.] his metal was abated, as well Fear, for danger. WARBURTON. as his courage was abated 6 If he be fain, fay fo.] The See what is faid on this fub words fay fo are in the first fo- ject on Love's Labour's Loft lio, but not in the quarto: they A&t V. But when the writer are neceffary to the verfe, but the fhews, as here, both before and fenfe proceeds as well without after, [-his party feel'dturn'd on themfelves like dull and heavy lead that his intention was not to drop the idea from whence he took his metaphor, that he cannot fay with propriety and elegance, his metal was abated; becaufe what he predi cates of metal, must be then convey'd in a term conformable to the metaphor. Hence I conclude that Shakespeare wrote,

7 For from his metal avas his party feel'd; Which once in him ABATED, The word metal is one of thofe hacknied metaphorical terms, which refumes fo 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,

Which once in him abated, all the reft
Turn'd on themfelves, 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 lofs,
Lend to this weight fuch lightnefs with their fear,
That arrows fled not fwifter toward their aim,
Than did our foldiers, aiming at their fafety,
Fly from the field. Then was that noble Wor'fter
Too foon ta'en prifoner: and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, 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 Westmorland. This is the news at full.

8

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 meafure made me well.
And as the wretch, whofe fever-weaken'd joints,
Like strengthlefs 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;

T

A fcaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Samar bra
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 rugged'ft hour that time and fpight dare bring
To frown upon th' enrag'd Northumberland! 10
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 ftage
To feed contention in a lingring act :
But let one fpirit of the firft-born Cain
Reign in all bofoms, that each heart being feti
On bloody courfes, the rude fcene may end,

And darkness be the burier of the dead!"

3

Bard. This ftrained paffion doth you wrong, my

lord!

Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom 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,

The old Edition, The ragged'ft Hour that Time and Spight dare bring To frown, &c.] There is no Confonance of Metaphors betwixt ragged and frown; nor, indeed, any Dignity in the Image. On both Accounts, therefore, I fufpect, our Author wrote, as I have reformed the Text, The rugged'ft Hour, &c. THEOB.

2 The conclufion of this noble fpeech is extremely ftriking. There is no need to fuppofe it exactly philofophical; darkness in poetry may be abfence of eyes as well as privation of light. Yet we may remark, that by an

A

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 fears; and that his forward fpirit
Would lift him where moft trade of danger rang'd;
Yet did you fay, Go forth. And none of this,
Though ftrongly apprehended, could restrain
The ftiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n,
Or what hath this bold enterprize brought forth,
More than That being, which was like to be?

Bard. We all, that are engaged to this lofs,
Knew, that we ventur'd on fuch dang'rous feas,
That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one;
And yet we ventur'd for the gain propos'd,
Choak'd the refpect of likely peril fear'd;
And fince we are o'er-fet, venture again,
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.

Mort. 'Tis more than time; and my most noble lord,

I hear for certain, and do speak the truth:
s The gentle Arch-bishop of York is up
With well-appointed Powers. He is a man,
Who with a double furety binds his followers.
My lord, your fon had only but the corps,
But fhadows, and the fhews of men to fight;
For that fame word, Rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their fouls,

play are inferted after the firft edition in like manner, but of fuch spirit and maftery generally, that the infertions are plainly by Shakespeare himself. POPE.

To this note I have nothing to add, but that the editor fpeaks of more editions than I believe

R 2

him to have feen, there having been but one edition yet dif covered by me that precedes the firft folio.

5 The gentle, &c.] Thefe one-and-twenty lines were added fince the first edition.

And