ntention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
Good, an God will!
As good as heart can wish:
The king is almost wounded to the death;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John,
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field:
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times,
Since Caesar's fortunes!
How is this derived?
Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?
I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,