Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief

With winged haste to the Lord Marshal,

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.

My good lord,

I guess their tenour.

Like enough you do.

Tomorrow, good Sir Michael, is a day

Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men

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,

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,

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.

Why, my good lord, you need not fear,

There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer.

No, Mortimer is not there.

But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,

And there is my Lord of Worcester, and a head

Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.

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,

The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt,

And many more corrivals and dear men

Of estimation and command in arms.

Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed.

I hope no less, yet needful ’tis to fear;

And to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed.

For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King

Dismiss his power he means to visit us,

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.