The First Web Folio Edition of Shakespeare's Works
| [Warkworth. Before the castle] | ||
| [Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues] |
| RUMOUR | Open your ears; for which of you will stop | ||
| The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? | |||
| I, from the orient to the drooping west, | |||
| Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold | |||
| The acts commenced on this ball of earth: | 5 | ||
| Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, | |||
| The which in every language I pronounce, | |||
| Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. | |||
| I speak of peace, while covert enmity | |||
| Under the smile of safety wounds the world: | 10 | ||
| And who but Rumour, who but only I, | |||
| Make fearful musters and prepared defence, | |||
| Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief, | |||
| Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, | |||
| And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe | 15 | ||
| Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures | |||
| And of so easy and so plain a stop | |||
| That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, | |||
| The still-discordant wavering multitude, | |||
| Can play upon it. But what need I thus | 20 | ||
| My well-known body to anatomize | |||
| Among my household? Why is Rumour here? | |||
| I run before King Harry's victory; | |||
| Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury | |||
| Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, | 25 | ||
| Quenching the flame of bold rebellion | |||
| Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I | |||
| To speak so true at first? my office is | |||
| To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell | |||
| Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword, | 30 | ||
| And that the king before the Douglas' rage | |||
| Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. | |||
| This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns | |||
| Between that royal field of Shrewsbury | |||
| And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, | 35 | ||
| Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, | |||
| Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on, | |||
| And not a man of them brings other news | |||
| Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tongues | |||
| They bring smooth comforts false, worse than | 40 | ||
| true wrongs. | |||
| [Exit] |
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