York. A Room in the ARCHBISHOP’S Palace. | |
| |
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK and SIR MICHAEL. | |
| Arch. Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief | |
| With winged haste to the lord marshal; | 4 |
| This to my cousin Scroop, and all the rest | |
| To whom they are directed. If you knew | |
| How much they do import, you would make haste. | |
| Sir M. My good lord, | 8 |
| I guess their tenour. | |
| Arch. Like enough you do. | |
| To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day | |
| Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men | 12 |
| Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, | |
| As I am truly given to understand, | |
| The king with mighty and quick-raised power | |
| Meets with Lord Harry: and, I fear, Sir Michael, | 16 |
| What with the sickness of Northumberland,— | |
| Whose power was in the first proportion,— | |
| And what with Owen Glendower’s absence thence, | |
| Who with them was a rated sinew too, | 20 |
| And comes not in, o’er-rul’d by prophecies,— | |
| I fear the power of Percy is too weak | |
| To wage an instant trial with the king. | |
| Sir M. Why, my good lord, you need not fear: | 24 |
| There is the Douglas and Lord Mortimer. | |
| Arch. No, Mortimer is not there. | |
| Sir M. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, | |
| And there’s my Lord of Worcester, and a head | 28 |
| Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. | |
| Arch. And so there is; but yet the king hath drawn | |
| The special head of all the land together: | |
| The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, | 32 |
| The noble Westmoreland, and war-like Blunt; | |
| And many moe corrivals and dear men | |
| Of estimation and command in arms. | |
| Sir M. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well oppos’d. | 36 |
| Arch. I hope no less, yet needful ’tis to fear; | |
| And, to prevent the worse, Sir Michael, speed: | |
| For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the king | |
| Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, | 40 |
| For he hath heard of our confederacy, | |
| And ’tis but wisdom to make strong against him: | |
| Therefore make haste. I must go write again | |
| To other friends; and so farewell, Sir Michael. [Exeunt. | 44 |
