The Works of Michael Drayton :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ceas'd was the Thunder, of those Drummes which wak'd,
Th'affrighted French their miseries to view,
At Edwards name, which to that houre still quak'd,
Their

The law Salique was, that women should not inherite; which law, Edward the third, by his right to the Crowne by his mother, cancelled with his sword: for so much as at that time made way to his clayme, though in France that law bee inviolable.

Salique Tables to the ground that threw,
Yet were the English courages not slak'd,
But the same Bowes, and the same Blades they drew,
With the same Armes, those weapons to advance,
Which lately lopt the Flower de liz of France.

Henry the fift, that man made out of fire,
Th'Imperiall Wreath plac'd on his Princely browe;
His Lyons courage stands not to enquire
Which way olde Henry came by it; or howe
At Pomfret Castell Richard should expire:
What's that to him? he hath the Garland now;
Let

Henry the 4. so named of a Town in Lincolne Shiere, where he was borne.

Bullingbrook beware how he it wan,
For

Henry the fift borne at Munmouth in Wales. Dowglas in that battaile slew three in the Kings coat Armour.

Munmouth meanes to keepe it, if he can.

That glorious day, which his great Father got,
Upon the Percyes; calling to their ayde
The valiant Dowglas, that Herculian Scot,
When for his Crowne at Shrewsbury they playde,
Had quite dishartned ev'ry other plot,
And all those Tempests quietly had layde,
That not a cloud did to this Prince appeare,
No former King had seene a skye so cleere.

Yet the rich Clergy felt a fearefull Rent,
In the full Bosome of their Church (whilst she
A Monarchesse, immeasurably spent,
Lesse then she was, and thought she might not be:)
By Wickclif and his followers; to prevent

Wickliffe a learned Divine, and the greatest Protestant of those times.

The growth of whose opinions, and to free
That foule Aspersion, which on her they layde,
She her strongst witts must stirre up to her ayde.

When presently a Parliament is calld
To sett things steddy, that stood not so right,
But that thereby the poore might be inthral'd,
Should they be urg'd by those that were of might,
That in his Empire, equitie enstauld,
It should continue in that perfect plight;

A Parliament at Leicester.

Wherefore to Lester, he th'Assembly drawes,
There to Inact those necessary Lawes.

In which one Bill (mongst many) there was red,
Against the generall, and superfluous waste
Of temporall Lands, (the Laity that had fed)
Upon the Houses of Religion caste,
Which for defence might stand the Realme in sted,
Where it most needed were it rightly plac't;
Which made those Church-men generally to feare,
For all this calme, some tempest might be neare.

And being right skilfull, quickly they forsawe,
No shallow braines this bus'nesse went about:
Therefore with cunning they must cure this flawe;
For of the King they greatly stood in doubt,
Lest him to them, their opposites should drawe,
Some thing must be thrust in, to thrust that out:
And to this end they wisely must provide,
One, this great Engine, Clearkly that could guide.

Henry Chichley succeeding Arundell (late deceased) in that See.

Chichley, that sate on Canterburies See,
A man well spoken, gravely stout, and wise,
The most select, (then thought of that could be,)
To act what all the Prelacie divise;
(For well they knew, that in this bus'nesse, he
Would to the utmost straine his faculties;)
Him lift they up, with their maine strength, to prove
By some cleane slight this

So they termed it as not worthy of a better tytle.

Lybell to remove.

His braine in labour, gladly foorth would bring
Somewhat, that at this needfull time might fit,
The sprightly humor of this youthfull King,
If his invention could but light of it;
His working soule projecteth many a thing,
Untill at length out of the strength of wit,
He found a warre with France, must be the way
To dash this Bill, else threatning their decay.

Whilst vacant mindes sate in their breasts at ease,
And the remembrance of their Conquests past,
Upon their fansies doth so strongly sease,
As in their teeth, their Cowardise it cast
Rehearsing to them those victorious daies,
The deeds of which, beyond their names should last,
That after ages, reading what was theirs,
Shall hardly thinke, those men had any Heires.

And to this point, premeditating well,
A speech, (which chanc'd, the very pinne to cleave)
Aym'd, whatsoever the successe befell
That it no roomth should for a second leave,
More of this Title then in hand to tell,
If so his skill him did not much deceave,
And gainst the King in publike should appeare;
Thus frames his speech to the Assembly there.

Pardon my boldnesse, my Liedge Soveraigne Lord,

The Archbishop of Canterburies Oration, to the King & Parliament at Lecester, in the Eleven following Stanzas.

Nor your Dread presence let my speech offend,
Your milde attention, favourably affoord,
Which, such cleere vigour to my spirit shall lend,
That it shall set an edge upon your Sword,
To my demand, and make you to attend,
Asking you, why, men train'd to Armes you keepe,
Your right in France yet suffering still to sleepe.

Can such a Prince be in an Iland pent,
And poorely thus shutt up within a Sea.
When as your right includes that large extent,
To th'either Alpes your Empire forth to lay,
Can he be English borne, and is not bent
To follow you, appoint you but the way,
Weele wade if we want ships, the waves or climme,
In one hand hold our swords, with th'other swim.

What time controules, your brave great Grandsires claim,

The Crowne of France descended upon Edward the third, from Isabell his Mother, Daughter and surviving heyre, to King Phillippe of France named the fayre.

To th'Realme of France, from Philip nam'd the faire,
Which to King Edward by his mother came,
Queene Isabel; that Philips onely heire,
Which this short intermission doth not maime,
But if it did, as he, so yours repaire;
That where his Right in bloud prevailed not,
In spight of hell, yet by his Sword he got.

What set that Conqueror, by their Salique Lawes,
Those poore decrees their Parliaments could make,
He entred on the justnesse of his Cause,
To make good, what he dar'd to undertake,
And once in Action, he stood not to pause,
But in upon them like a Tempest brake,
And downe their buildings with such fury bare,
That they from mists dissolved were to ayre.

As those brave Edwards, Father, and the Sonne,
At Conquer'd Cressy, with successefull lucke,
Where first all France (as at one game) they wonne,
Never two Warriours, such a Battaile strucke,
That when the bloudy dismall fight was done,
Here in one heape, there in another Rucke
Princes and Peasants lay together mixt,
The English Swords, no difference knew betwixt.

There Lewes King of Beame was overthrowne,
With valient Charles, of France the younger Brother,

James, Daulphine of Viennoies. The Dukes of Lorraine, and Burbon. The Earles of Aumerle, Savoye, Mount-billiard, Flaunders, Nevers & Harecourt.

A Daulphine, and two Dukes, in pieces hewen;
To them sixe Earles lay slaine by one another;
There the grand Prior of France, fetcht his last groane,
Two Archbishops the boystrous Croud doth smother,
There fifteene thousand of their Gentrie dy'de
With each two Souldiers, slaughtered by his side.

King John of France and Philip his Son taken by the Blacke Prince at the Battaile of Poyteers, brought Prisoners to England.

Nor the Blacke Prince, at Poyteers battaile fought;
Short of his Father, and himselfe before,
Her King and Prince, that prisoners hither brought
From forty thousand weltring in their gore,
That in the Worlds opinion it was thought,
France from that instant could subsist no more,
The

John of Clermount.

Marshall, and the

Peter of Burbon.

Constable, there slaine
Under the Standard, in that Battaile ta'ne.

Examples of such as have advanc'd themselves to the Crowne of France, against the strict letter of the lawe Salique, in the two following Stanzaes.

Nor is this clayme for women to succeede,
(Gainst which they would your right to France debarre)
A thing so new, that it so much should neede
Such opposition, as though fetcht from farre,
By Pepin this is prov'd, as by a deede,
Deposing Cheldrick, by a fatall warre,
By Blythild dar'd his title to advance,
Daughter to Clothar, first so nam'd of France.

Hugh Capet, who from Charles of Lorayne tooke
The Crowne of France, that he in peace might raigne,
As heire to Lingard to her title stooke,
Who was the daughter of King Charlemaine,
So holy Lewes poring on his booke,
Whom that Hugh Capet made his heire againe,
From Ermingard his Grandame, claim'd the Crowne,
Duke Charles his daughter, wrongfully put downe.

Nor thinke my Leege a fitter time then this,
You could have found your Title to advance,
At the full height when now the faction is,
T'wixt Burgoyne, and the house of Orleance,
Your purpose you not possibly can misse,
It for my Lord so luckily doth chance,
That whilst these two in opposition stand,
You may have time, your Army there to land.

And if my fancy doe not overpresse,
My visuall sence, me thinkes in every eye
I see such cheere, as of our good successe
In France hereafter seemes to Prophecie;
Thinke not my Soveraigne, my Alegeance lesse
Quoth he; my Lords nor doe you misaply
My words: thus long upon this subject spent,
Who humbly here submit to your assent.

This speech of his, that powerfull Engine prov'd,
Then e'r our Fathers got, which rais'd us hier,
The Clergies feare that quietly remov'd,
And into France transferd our Hostile fier,
It made the English through the world belov'd,
That durst to those so mighty things aspire,
And gave so cleere a luster to our fame,
That neighbouring Nations trembled at our name.

When through the house, this rumor scarsely ran,
That warre with France propounded was againe,
In all th'Assembly there was not a man,
But put the project on with might and maine,
So great applause it generally wan,
That else no bus'nesse they would entertaine,
As though their honour utterly were lost,
If this designe should any way be crost.

So much mens mindes, now upon France were set
That every one doth with himselfe forecast,
What might fall out this enterprize to let,
As what againe might give it wings of hast,
And for they knew, the French did still abet
The Scot against us, (which we usde to tast)
It question'd was if it were fit or no,
To Conquer them, ere we to France should goe.

Ralph Nevill then Warden of the Marches betwixt England and Scotland. An old adage, He that will France winne: must with Scotland first beginne.

Which Ralph then Earle of Westmorland propos'd,
Quoth he, with Scotland let us first begin,
By which we are upon the North inclos'd,
And lockt with us, one Continent within,
Then first let Scotland be by us dispos'd,
And with more ease, yee spatious France may winne,
Else of our selves, ere we our Ships can cleere,
To land in France; they will invade us here.

The Duke of Excester the Kings owne unckle.

Not so brave Nevill, Excester replies,
For that of one two labours were to make,
For Scotland wholly upon France relies;
First, Conquer France, and Scotland yee may take,
Tis the French pay, the Scot to them that tyes,
That stopt, asunder quickly yee shall shake
The French and Scots; to France then first say I,
First, first, to France, then all the Commons cry.

The first breach with France.

And instantly an Embassy is sent,
To Charles of France, to will him to restore
Those Territories, of whose large extent,
The English Kings were owners of before;
Which if he did not, and incontinent,
The King would set those English on his shore,
That in despight of him, and all his might,
Should leave their lives there, or redeeme his right.

First Normandy, in his demand he makes,
With Aquitane, a Dutchy no lesse great,

The Countries demanded by the King of England.

Anjou, and Mayne, with Gascoyne which he takes,
Cleerely his owne, as any English seat:
With these proud France, he first of all awakes,
For their delivery, giving power to treat;
For well he knew, if Charles should these restore,
No King of France was ever left so poore.

The King, and Daulphin, to his proud demand,
That he might see they no such matter ment,
As a thing fitter for his youthfull hand;
A Tunne of Paris Tennis Balls him sent,

The King and Daulphine of France, deriding the King of England.

Better himselfe to make him understand,
Deriding his ridiculous intent:
And that was all the answere he could get,
Which more, the King doth to this Conquest whet.

That answering the Ambassadour, quoth he,
Thanks for my Balls, to Charles your Soveraigne give,

Henry the fift answered for the Tennis Balls.

And thus assure him, and his sonne from me,
I'le send him Balls and Rackets if I live,
That they such Racket shall in Paris see,
When over lyne with Bandies I shall drive,

The language of Tennis.

As that before the Set be fully done,
France may (perhaps) into the Hazard runne.

So little doth luxurious France fore-see
By her disdaine, what shee upon her drew:
In her most bravery seeming then to be,
The punishment that shortly should ensue,
Which so incenst the English King, that he
For full revenge into that fury grew:
That those three horrors, Famine, Sword, and Fire,
Could not suffice to satisfie his ire.

In all mens mouthes now was no word but warre,
As though no thing had any other name;
And folke would aske of them ariv'd from farre,
What forces were preparing whence they came?
'Gainst any bus'nesse 'twas a lawfull barre
To say for France they were; and 'twas a shame
For any man to take in hand to doe
Ought, but some thing that did belong thereto.

Olde Armours are drest up, and new are made;
Jacks are in working, and strong shirts of Male,
He scowers an

Blades accounted of the best temper.

olde Fox, he a

Blades accounted of the best temper.

Bilbowe blade,
Now Shields and Targets onely are for sale;
Who works for warre, now thriveth by his Trade,
The browne Bill, and the Battell-Axe prevaile:
The curious Fletcher fits his well-strung Bowe,
And his barb'd Arrow which he sets to showe.

Tents and Pavillions in the fields are pitcht,
(E'r full wrought up their Roomthynesse to try)
Windowes, and Towers, with Ensignes are inricht,
With ruffling Banners, that doe brave the sky,
Wherewith the wearied Labourer bewitcht
To see them thus hang waving in his eye:
His toylsome burthen from his back doth throwe,
And bids them worke that will, to France hee'll goe.

Rich Saddles for the Light-horse and the Bard
For to be brav'st there's not a man but plyes,
Plumes, Bandroules, and Caparizons prepar'd;
Whether of two, and men at Armes divise
The

Armed at all points.

Greaves, or

Armings for the thigh and legge.

Guyses were the surer guard,
The

Armings for the arme and shoulder.

Vambrasse, or the Pouldron, they should prize;
And where a stand of Pykes plac't close, or large,
Which way to take advantage in the Charge.

One traynes his Horse, another trayles his Pyke,
He with his Pole-Axe, practiseth the fight,
The Bowe-man (which no Country hath the like)
With his sheafe Arrow, proveth by his might,
How many score off, he his Foe can strike,
Yet not to draw above his bosomes hight:
The Trumpets sound the Charge and the Retreat,
The bellowing Drumme, the Martch againe doth beat.

Cannons upon their Caridge mounted are,
Whose Battery France must feele upon her Walls,
The Engineer providing the Petar,
To breake the strong Percullice, and the Balls
Of Wild-fire devis'd to throw from farre,

Great Ordnance then but newly in use.

To burne to ground their Pallaces and Halls:
Some studying are, the scale which they had got,
Thereby to take the Levell of their Shot.

The man in yeares preacht to his youthfull sonne
Prest to this Warre, as they sate by the fire,
What deedes in France were by his Father done,
To this attempt to worke him to aspire,
And told him, there how he an Ensigne wonne,
Which many a yeare was hung up in the Quire:
And in the Battell, where he made his way,
How many French men he struck downe that day.

The good old man, with teares of joy would tell,
In Cressy field what prizes Edward play'd,
As what at Poycteers the Black Prince befell,
How like a Lyon, he about him layd:
In deedes of Armes how Awdley did excell,
For their olde sinnes, how they the French men payd:
How bravely Basset did behave him there:
How Oxford charg'd the Van, Warwick the Reare.

And Boy, quoth he, I have heard thy Grandsire say,
That once he did an English Archer see,
Who shooting at a French twelve score away,
Quite through the body, stuck him to a Tree;
Upon their strengths a King his Crowne might lay:
Such were the men of that brave age, quoth he,
When with his Axe he at his Foe let drive,
Murrian and scalpe downe to the teeth could rive:

The scarlet Judge might now set up his Mule,
With neighing Steeds the Streetes so pestred are;
For where he wont in Westminster to rule,
On his Tribunall sate the man of Warre,
The Lawyer to his Chamber doth recule,
For he hath now no bus'nesse at the Barre:
But to make Wills and Testaments for those
That were for France, their substance to dispose.

By this, the Counsell of this Warre had met,
And had at large of ev'ry thing discust;
And the grave Clergie had with them beene set:
To warrant what they undertooke was just,
And as for monies that to be no let,
They bad the King for that to them to trust:
The Church to pawne, would see her Challice layde,
E'r shee would leave one Pyoner unpayde.

From Milford Haven, to the mouth of Tweed,

Halfe the circuit of the Island, from the Spanish to the German Ocean.

Ships of all burthen to Southampton brought,
For there the King the Rendevous decreed
To beare aboard his most victorious fraught:
The place from whence he with the greatest speed
Might land in France, (of any that was thought)
And with successe upon that lucky shore,

Edward the third.

Where his great Grandsire landed had before.

But, for he found those vessels were to fewe,
That into France his Army should convay:
He sent to Belgia, whose great store he knewe,
Might now at neede supply him every way.
His bounty ample, as the windes that blewe,
Such Barkes for Portage out of ev'ry bay
In Holland, Zealand, and in Flanders, brings;
As spred the wide

The Sea betwixt France and England, so called.

sleeve with their canvase wings.

But first seaven Ships from Rochester are sent,
The narrow Seas, of all the French to sweepe:

A Catalogue of the Ships in 12 Stanzas.

All men of Warre with scripts of Mart that went,
And had command, the Coast of France to keepe:
The comming of a Navie to prevent,
And view what strength, was in the Bay of Deepe:
And if they found it like to come abroad,
To doe their best to fire it in the Road.

The names of the Kings 7. Ships of War.

The Bonaventure, George, and the Expence,
Three as tall Ships, as e'r did Cable tewe,
The Henry Royall, at her parting thence,

An Indian Bird so great, that she is able to carry an Elephant.

Like the huge Ruck from Gillingham that flewe:
The Antilop, the Elephant, Defence,
Bottoms as good as ever spred a clue:
All having charge, their voyage having bin,
Before Southampton to take Souldiers in.

Twelve Merchants Ships, of mighty burthen all,
New off the Stocks, that had beene rig'd for Stoad,
Riding in Thames by Lymehouse and Blackwall
That ready were their Merchandize to load,
Straitly commanded by the Admirall,
At the same Port to settle their aboad:
And each of these a Pinnis at command,
To put her fraught conveniently to land.

Eight goodly Ships, so Bristow ready made,
Which to the King they bountifully lent,
With Spanish Wines which they for Ballast lade,
In happy speed of his brave Voyage ment,
Hoping his Conquest should enlarge their Trade,
And there-withall a rich and spacious Tent:
And as this Fleet the Severne Seas doth stem,
Five more from Padstowe came along with them.

The Hare of Loo, a right good Ship well knowne,
The yeare before that twice the Strayts had past,
Two wealthy Spanish Merchants did her owne,
Who then but lately had repair'd her wast;
For from her Deck a Pyrate she had blowne,
After a long Fight, and him tooke at last:
And from Mounts Bay sixe more, that still in sight,
Wayted with her before the Ile of Wight.

From Plymmouth next came in the Blazing Starre,
And fiery Dragon to take in their fraught;
With other foure, especiall men of Warre,
That in the Bay of Portugall had fought;

The Bay of Portugall one of the highest working Seas that is known.

And though returning from a Voyage farre,
Stem'd that rough Sea, when at the high'st it wrought:
With these, of Dertmouth seav'n good Ships there were,
The golden Cressant in their tops that beare.

So Lyme, three Ships into the Navy sent,
Of which the Sampson scarse a mon'th before,
Had sprung a Planke, and her mayne Mast had spent,
With extreame perill that she got to shore;
With them five other out of Waymouth went,
Which by Southampton, were made up a score:
With those that rode (at pleasure) in the Bay,
And that at Anchor before Portsmouth lay.

Next these, Newcastle furnisheth the Fleet
With nine good Hoyes of necessary use;
The Danish Pyrats, valiantly that beet,
Offring to Sack them as they sayl'd for Sluce:
Six Hulks from Hull at Humbers mouth them meet,
Which had them oft accompanied to

A Country lying upon the east Sea, bordring upon Poland.

Pruce.
Five more from

Famous for Herring fishing.

Yarmouth falling them among,
That had for Fishing beene prepared long.

The Cowe of Harwich, never put to flight,
For Hides, and Furres, late to Muscovia bound,
Of the same Port, another nam'd the Spight,
That in her comming lately through the Sound,
After a two-dayes-still-continued fight,
Had made three Flemings runne themselves a ground;
With three neat Flee-boats which with them doe take,
Six Ships of Sandwich up the Fleet to make.

Nine Ships for the Nobility there went,
Of able men, the enterprize to ayde,

Aydes to the King by the Nobility.

Which to the King most liberally they lent,
At their owne charge, and bountifully payde,
Northumberland, and Westmerland in sent
Fourescore at Armes a peece, themselves and layde
At six score Archers each, as Suffolke showes,
Twenty tall men at Armes, with forty Bowes.

Warwick and Stafford leavied at no lesse
Then noble Suffolke, nor doe offer more
Of men at Armes, and Archers which they presse,
Of their owne Tenants, Arm'd with their owne store:
Their forwardnesse fore-showes their good successe
In such a Warre, as had not beene before:
And other Barrons under Earles that were,
Yet dar'd with them an equall charge to beare.

Darcy and Camois, zealous for the King,
Lovell, Fitzwater, Willoughby, and Rosse,
Berckley, Powis, Burrell, fast together cling;
Seymer, and Saint John for the bus'nesse closse,
Each twenty Horse, and forty foote doe bring
More, to nine hundred mounting in the grosse
In those nine Ships, and fitly them bestow'd,
Which with the other fall into the Road.

From Holland, Zeland, and from Flanders wonne
By weekely pay, threescore twelve Bottoms came,
From fifty upward, to five hundred Tunne;
For ev'ry use a Marriner could name,
Whose glittering Flags against the Radient Sunne,
Show'd as the Sea had all beene of a flame;
For Skiffes, Crayes, Scallops, and the like, why these
From ev'ry small Creeke, cov'red all the Seas.

The man whose way from London hap'd to lye,
By those he met might guesse the generall force,
Daily encountred as he passed by,
Now with a Troupe of Foote, and then of Horse,
To whom the people still themselves apply,
Bringing them victuals as in meere remorce:
And still the acclamation of the presse,
Saint George for England, to your good successe.

There might a man have seene in ev'ry Streete,
The Father bidding farewell to his Sonne:
Small Children kneeling at their Fathers feete:
The Wife with her deare Husband ne'r had done:
Brother, his Brother, with adieu to greete:
One Friend to take leave of another runne:
The Mayden with her best belov'd to part,
Gave him her hand, who tooke away her heart.

The nobler Youth the common ranke above,
On their corvetting Coursers mounted faire,
One ware his Mistris Garter, one her Glove;
And he a lock of his deare Ladies haire;
And he her Colours, whom he most did love;
There was not one but did some Favour weare:
And each one tooke it, on his happy speede,
To make it famous by some Knightly deede.

The cloudes of dust, that from the wayes arose,
Which in their martch, the trampling Troupes doe reare;
When as the Sunne their thicknesse doth oppose
In his descending, shining wondrous cleare,
To the beholder farre off standing, showes
Like some besieged Towne, that were on fire:
As though fore-telling e'r they should returne,
That many a Citie yet secure must burne.

The well-rig'd Navie falne into the Road,
For this short Cut with victuall fully stor'd,
The King impatient of their long aboad,
Commands his Army instantly aboard,
Casting to have each Company bestow'd,
As then the time convenience could afford;
The Ships appointed wherein they should goe,
And Boats prepar'd for waftage to and fro.

To be imbarqu'd when every Band comes downe,
Each in their order as they mustred were,
Or by the difference of their

A Blazon of the Ensignes of the severall Shires, in 14 Stanzas following.

Armings knowne,
Or by their Colours; for in Ensignes there,
Some wore the Armes of their most ancient Towne,
Others againe their owne Divises beare,
There was not any, but that more or lesse,
Something had got, that something should expresse.

First, in the

Expressing their freedom, as still retaining their ancient liberties, by surprizing the Conqueror like a moving Wood.

Kentish Stremer was a Wood,
Out of whose top an arme that held a Sword,
As their right Embleme; and to make it good,
They above other onely had a Word,
Which was; Unconquer'd; as that freest had stood.

An expression of King Harolds death, slaine with an Arrow in the head, at the Battaile of Hastings, fighting against the Conqueror.

Sussex the next that was to come Aboard
Bore a Blacke Lyon Rampant, sore that bled,
With a Field-Arrow darted through the head.

The men of

The first famous Earle of that Countrey.

Surrey, Checky Blew and gold,
Which for brave Warren their first Earle they wore,
In many a Field that honour'd was of olde:)
And Hamshere next in the same Colours bore,
Three Lions Passant, th'Armes of Bevis bould,
Who through the World so famous was of yore;
A silver

Expressing the pleasantnesse of the scituation of that County, lying upon the French Sea.

Tower, Dorsets Red Banner beares;
The Cornishmen two Wrestlers had for theirs.

The

As lying the fittest to expell or forwarne Invasion.

Devonshire Band, a Beacon set on fire,
Sommerset

Expressing the delicacy of the Bath, their chiefe Citty.

a Virgine bathing in a Spring,
Their Cities Armes, the men of Glostershire,
In Gold three

The Armes of the ancient Family of Clare Earle of Gloster borne by the City.

Bloudy Chevernells doe bring;
Wiltshire a Crowned

Stonidge being the first wonder of England, standing in Wilshire:

Piramed; As nigher
Then any other to martch to the King;
Barkshire a

An old Embleme of Beroch, or Berkshire.

Stag, under an Oake that stood,
Oxford a White Bull wading in a Flood.

The mustred men for

A Badge of the ancient Family of the Staffords Dukes of that place.

Buckingham, are gone
Under the Swan, the Armes of that olde Towne,
The Londoners, and Middlesex as one,
Are by the Red Crosse, and the Dagger knowne;
The Men of

Queene Helen Founder of the Crosse, wife to Constantaine, and Daughter to King Coell, builder of Colechester in Essex.

Essex overmatch'd by none,
Under Queene Hellens Image Martching downe;

Suffolke the most Easterly of the English shieres.

Suffolke a Sunne halfe risen from the brack,

For the brave prospect to the Germane Ocean.

Norffolke a Triton on a Dolphines backe.

The Souldiers sent from

Having relation to that famous Universitie their Shiere Towne.

Cambridgeshire, a Bay
Upon a Mountaine watred with a shower:
Hartford

The Armes of the Towne somewhat alluding to the name.

two Harts that in a River play;
Bedfords an Eagle pearcht upon a Tower,
And

The Armes of the towne of Huntingdon, first so named of a place where Hunters met.

Huntington a People proud as they,
Nor giving place to any for their power,
A youthfull Hunter, with a Chaplet Crown'd,
In a pyde Lyam leading forth his Hound.

Northampton

The Armes of the towne.

with a Castle seated high,
Supported by two Lyons thither came;
The men of

From the aboundance of wooll in that tract.

Rutland, to them marching nie,
In their rich Ensigne beare an Ermine Ram,
And

A sport more used in that Shiere from ancient time, then in any other.

Lestershire that on their strength relye,
A Bull and Mastive fighting for the game.
Lincolne

For the length that it hath upon the Germane Ocean.

a Ship most neatly that was lim'd
In all her Sailes with Flags and Pennons trim'd.

Stout

The Beare and ragged Staffe, the ancient Armes of that Earledome.

Warwickshire, her ancient badge the Beare,
Worster

For the aboundance of fruit more there then in any other tract.

a Peare-Tree laden with the Fruit,
A Golden Fleece and

The finenesse of the wooll of Lemster in that Shiere.

Hereford doth weare;
Stafford,

Many Hermites lived there in the woods in time past, it being all forrestie.

a Hermet in his homely sute,
Shropshire

Expressing the loftinesse of the mountaines in that Shiere, on which many Hawkes were wont to airy.

a Falcon towring in the Ayre,
And for the Shiere whose surface seemes most brute
Darby, an Eagle sitting on a Roote,
A swathed Infant holding in her foote.

Olde

That famous out-law lived much in that Country, and is yet by many places there celebrated.

Nottingham, an Archer clad in greene,
Under a Tree with his drawne Bowe that stood,
Which in a checkquer'd Flagge farre off was seene:
It was the Picture of olde Robin Hood,
And

Accounted ever the best Archers of England.

Lancashiere not as the least I weene,
Thorough three Crownes, three Arrowes smear'd with blood:
Cheshiere a Banner, very square and broad,
Wherein a man upon a Lyon rode.

A flaming Lance, the

For their agillity with the Speare, and swiftnesse of their Nagges.

Yorkshiere men for them,
As those for Durham neere againe at hand,
A Myter crowned with a Diadem:
An Armed man, the men of

Being ready still in Armes against the Scots.

Cumberland:
So

Expressing the scite thereof juting out into those dangerous Seas, betwixt England and Ireland.

Westmerland link'd with it in one Stem,
A Ship that wrackt lay fierd upon the sand:
Northumberland

Their terrible conflicts (many times) with the Scots, expressed in the fight betweene the golden and red Lyon.

with these com'n as a Brother,
Two Lyons fighting tearing one another.

Thus as themselves the English men had show'd
Under the Ensigne of each sev'rall Shiere,
The Native Welch who no lesse honour ow'd
To their owne King, nor yet lesse valiant were,
In one strong Reg'ment had themselves bestow'd,
And of the rest, resumed had the Reare:
To their owne Quarter marching as the rest,
As neatly Arm'd, and bravely as the best.

Milford Haven in Penbrookeshiere, one of the bravest harbours in the knowne world, therefore not unaptly so expressed.

Pembrooke, a Boat wherein a Lady stood,
Rowing her selfe within a quiet Bay;
Those men of South-Wales of the

Partly Dutch, partly English, partly Welch.

mixed blood,
Had of the Welch the leading of the way:
Caermardin

Merlin, by whose birth and knowledge that towne is made famous.

in her Colours beare a Rood,
Whereon an olde man lean'd himselfe to stay
At a Starre pointing; which of great renowne,
Was skilfull Merlin, namer of that Towne.

A Watch Tower or Pharus, having the scituation where Severne beginneth to widden, as when Pirats have come in to give warning to the other Maratyne Countries.

Clamorgan men, a Castell great and hie,
From which, out of the Battlement above,
A flame shot up it selfe into the skye:
The men of

For the glory it hath attained, to be the Kings birth-place, and to expresse his principalities.

Munmouth (for the ancient love
To that deare Country; neighbouring them so nie)
Next after them in Equipage that move,
Three Crownes Imperiall which supported were,
With three Arm'd Armes, in their proud Ensigne beare.

The men of

The Armes of Brecknock.

Brecknock brought a Warlick Tent,
Upon whose top there sate a watchfull Cock,
Radnor,

Lying towards the midst of Wales, and for aboundance of Sheepe, living on those high Mountaines.

a mountaine of a high assent,
Thereon a Shepheard keeping of his Flock,
As

Expressing the scituation of that Shiere, lying on the Maratine part upon the Irish Sea.

Cardigan the next to them that went,
Came with a Mermayde sitting on a Rock,
And

For the aboundance of Goates, being on those inaccessible Mountaines.

Merioneth beares (as these had done)
Three dancing Goates against the rising Sunne,

Those of

The Shiere breeding the best Horses of Wales.

Mountgomery, beare a prancing Steed,
Denbigh

As opening it selfe to the great North or Deucalidonian Sea.

a Neptune with his three-fork'd Mace:
Flintshiere

Expressing the aboundance of Corne and grasse, in that little Tract.

a Workmayd in her Summers weed,
With Sheafe and Sickle (with a warlick pace)
Those of Caernarvon not the least in speed,
Though marching last (in the mayne Armies face)
Three golden Eagles in their Ensigne brought,
Under which oft brave Owen Guyneth fought.

The Seas amazed at the fearefull sight,
Of Armes, and Ensignes, that aboard were brought,
Of Streamers, Banners, Pennons, Ensignes pight,
Upon each Pup and Prowe; and at the fraught,
So full of terror, that it hardly might
Into a naturall course againe be brought,
As the vaste Navie which at Anchor rides,
Proudly presumes to shoulder out the Tides.

The Fleet then full, and floating on the Maine,
The numerous Masts, with their brave Topsailes spred,
When as the Winde a little doth them straine,
Seeme like a Forrest bearing her proud head
Against some rough flawe, that forerunns a raine;

A Simile of the Navy.

So doe they looke from every loftie sted,
Which with the Surges tumbled too and fro,
Seeme (even) to bend, as trees are seene to doe.

From every Ship when as the Ordnance rore,
Of their depart, that all might understand,
When as the zealous people from the shore,
Againe with fires salute them from the Land,

The brave solemnity at the departing of the Fleet.

For so was order left with them before,
To watch the Beacons, with a carefull hand,
Which being once fierd, the people more or lesse,
Should all to Church, and pray for their successe.

They shape their Course into the Mouth of Seyne,

The Navy Landing in the mouth of Seyne.

That destin'd Flood those Navies to receive,
Before whose fraught, her France had prostrate laine,
As now she must this, that shall never leave,
Untill the Engines that it doth containe,
Into the ayre her heightned walls shall heave;
Whose stubborne Turrets had refus'd to bow,
To that brave Nation that shall shake them now.

Long Boates with Scouts are put to land before,
Upon light Naggs the Countrey to discry,
(Whilst the brave Army setting is on shore,)
To view what strength the enemy had nie,
Pressing the bosome of large France so sore,
That her pale Genius, in affright doth flye
To all her Townes and warnes them to awake,
And for her safety up their Armes to take.

At Paris, Roan, and Orleance, she calls,
And at their gates with gronings doth complaine:
Then cries she out, O get up to your walls:
The English Armies are return'd againe,
Which in two Battailes gave those fatall falls,
At Cressie, and at Poyteers, where lay slaine
Our conquered Fathers, which with very feare
Quake in their Graves to feele them landed here.

The King of France now having understood,
Of Henries entrance, (but too well improv'd,)
He cleerly saw that deere must be the blood,
That it must cost, e'r he could be remov'd;
He sends to make his other Sea Townes good,
Never before so much it him behov'd;
In ev'ry one a Garison to lay,
Fearing fresh powers from England ev'ry day.

To the high'st earth whilst awfull Henry gets,
From whence strong Harflew he might easl'est see,
With sprightly words, and thus their courage whets,

The brave encouragement of a couragious King.

In yonder walls be Mynes of gold (quoth he)
He's a poore Slave, that thinkes of any debts;
Harflew shall pay for all, it ours shall be:
This ayre of France doth like me wondrous well,
Lets burne our Ships, for here we meane to dwell.

But through his Hoast, he first of all proclaim'd

A charitable Proclamation made by the King.

In paine of death, no English man should take
From the Religious, aged, or the maym'd,
Or women that could no resistance make:
To gaine his owne for that he onely aym'd;
Nor would have such to suffer for his sake:
Which in the French (when they the same did heare)
Bred of this brave King, a religious feare.

His Army rang'd, in order fitting warre,

The Kings mayne Standard (for the ponderousnes thereof,) ever borne upon a Carriage.

Each with some greene thing doth his Murrian crowne,
With his mayne standard fixt upon the Carre;
Comes the great King before th'intrenched Towne,
Whilst from the walls the people gazing are,
In all their sights he sets his Army downe;
Nor for their shot he careth not a pin,
But seekes where he his Battery may begin.

And into three, his Army doth divide,

The King makes his approaches on three parts.

His strong aproaches on three parts to make;
Himselfe on th'one, Clarence on th'other side,
To Yorke and Suffolke he the third doth take,
The Mines the Duke of Glocester doth guide;
Then caus'd his Ships the River up to Stake,
That none with Victuall should the Towne relieve,
Should the Sword faile, with Famine them to grieve.

From his Pavillion where he sate in State,
Arm'd for the Siedge, and buckling on his Shield,
Brave Henry sends his Herault to the Gate,
By Trumpets sound, to summon them to yeeld,

The King summons Harflew.

And to accept his Mercy, ere to late,
Or else to say ere he forsooke the field,
Harflew should be but a meere heape of Stones,
Her buildings buried with her Owners bones.

France on this sudaine put into a fright,
With the sad newes of Harflew in distresse,
Whose inexpected, miserable plight,
She on the suddaine, knew not to redresse,
But urg'd to doe the utmost that shee might,
The peoples feares and clamours to suppresse,
Raiseth a power with all the speede she could,
Somewhat thereby, to loose King Henries hold.

The Marshall, and the Constable of France,

Charles de Alibert, and John Bowcequalt.

Leading those Forces levied for the turne,
By which they thought their Titles to advance,
And of their Countrey endlesse praise to earne,
But it with them farre otherwise doth chance,
For when they saw the Villages to burne,
And high-towr'd Harflew round ingirt with fire,
They with their powers to Cawdebeck retire.

Like as a Hinde when shee her Calfe doth see,

A Simile of the French powers.

Lighted by chance into a Lions pawes,
From which should shee adventure it to free,
Shee must her selfe fill his devouring Jawes,
And yet her young one, still his prey must be,
(Shee so instructed is by Natures Lawes:)
With them so fares it, which must needs goe downe
If they would fight; and yet must loose the Towne:

Now doe they mount their Ordnance for the day,

A discription of the siege of Harflewe, in the 19. following Stanzaes.

Their scaling Ladders rearing to the walls,
Their battering Rammes against the gates they lay,
Their brazen slings send in the wilde-fire balls,
Baskets of twigs now carie stones and clay,
And to th'assault who furiously not falls;
The Spade and Pickax working are belowe,
Which then unfelt, yet gave the greatest blowe.

Rampiers of earth the painefull Pyoners raise
With the walls equall, close upon the Dike,
To passe by which the Souldier that assayes,
On Planks thrust over, one him downe doth strike:
Him with a mall a second English payes,
A second French transpearc'd him with a Pyke:
That from the height of the embattel'd Towers,
Their mixed blood ranne downe the walls in showers.

A French man back into the Towne doth fall,
With a sheafe Arrow shot into the head;
An English man in scaling of the wall,
From the same place is by a stone struck dead,
Tumbling upon them logs of wood, and all,
That any way for their defence might sted:
The hills at hand re-ecchoing with the din
Of shouts without, and fearefull shriekes within.

When all at once the English men assaile,
The French within all valiantly defend,
And in a first assault, if any faile,
They by a second strive it to amend:
Out of the Towne come

Crosbowe Arrowes.

quarries thick as haile;
As thick againe their Shafts the English send:
The bellowing Canon from both sides doth rore,
With such a noyse as makes the Thunder pore.

Now upon one side you should heare a cry,
And all that Quarter clowded with a smother;
The like from that against it by and by;
As though the one were eccho to the other,
The King and Clarence so their turnes can ply:
And valiant Gloster showes himselfe their brother;
Whose Mynes to the besieg'd more mischiefe doe,
Then with th'assaults above, the other two.

An olde man sitting by the fier side,
Decrepit with extreamity of Age,
Stilling his little Grand-childe when it cride,
Almost distracted with the Batteries rage:
Sometimes doth speake it faire, sometimes doth chide,
As thus he seekes its mourning to asswage,
By chance a Bullet doth the chimney hit,
Which falling in, doth kill both him and it.

Whilst the sad weeping Mother sits her downe,
To give her little new-borne Babe the Pap:
A lucklesse quarry leveld at the Towne,
Kills the sweet Baby sleeping in her lap,
That with the fright shee falls into a swoone,
From which awak'd, and mad with the mishap;
As up a Rampire shreeking she doth clim,
Comes a great Shot, and strikes her lim from lim.

Whilst a sort runne confusedly to quench,
Some Pallace burning, or some fired Street,
Call'd from where they were fighting in the Trench:
They in their way with Balls of Wilde-fire meet,
So plagued are the miserable French,
Not above head, but also under feet:
For the fierce English vowe the Towne to take,
Or of it soone a heape of stones to make.

Hot is the Siege the English comming on,
As men so long to be kept out that scorne,
Carelesse of wounds as they were made of stone;
As with their teeth the walls they would have torne:
Into a Breach who quickly is not gone;
Is by the next behinde him over-borne:
So that they found a place that gave them way,
They never car'd what danger therein lay.

From ev'ry Quarter they their course must plye,
As't pleas'd the King them to th'assault to call:
Now on the Duke of Yorke the charge doth lye:
To Kent and Cornwall then the turne doth fall:
Then Huntingdon up to the walls they crye:
Then Suffolke, and then Excester; which all
In their meane Souldiers habits us'd to goe,
Taking such part as those that own'd them doe.

The men of Harflew rough excursions make,
Upon the English watchfull in their Tent,
Whose courages they to their cost awake,
With many a wound that often back them sent,
So proud a Sally that durst undertake,
And in the Chase pell mell amongst them went,
For on the way such ground of them thye win,
That some French are shut out, some English in.

Nor idely sit our men at Armes the while,
Foure thousand Horse that ev'ry day goe out;
And of the Field are Masters many a mile,
By putting the Rebellious French to rout;
No Peasants them with promises beguile:
Another bus'nesse they were come about;
For him they take, his Ransome must redeeme,
Onely French Crownes, the English men esteeme.

Whilst English Henry lastly meanes to trye:
By three vast Mynes, the walls to overthrowe:
The French men their approches that espye,
By Countermynes doe meete with them belowe,
And as opposed in the Workes they lye:
Up the Besieged the Besiegers blowe,
That stifled quite, with powder as with dust,
Longer to walls they found it vaine to trust.

Till Gaucourt then, and Tuttivile that were
The Townes Commanders, (with much perill) finde
The Resolution that the English beare;
As how their owne to yeelding were enclinde,
Summon to parly, off'ring frankly there;
If that ayde came not by a day assignde,
To give the Towne up, might their lyves stand free:
As for their goods, at Henries will to be.

And having wonne their conduct to the King,
Those hardy Chiefes on whom the charge had layne:
Thither those well-fed Burgesses doe bring,
What they had off'red strongly to maintaine
In such a case, although a dang'rous thing,
Yet they so long upon their knees remaine:
That five dayes respight from his Grant they have,
Which was the most, they (for their lives) durst crave.

The time perfixed comming to expire,
And their reliefe ingloriously delay'd:
Nothing within their sight but sword, and fire;
And bloody Ensignes ev'ry where display'd:
The English still within themselves entire,
When all these things they seriously had way'd,
To Henries mercy found that they must trust,
For they perceiv'd their owne to be injust.

The Ports are opened, weapons layd aside,
And from the walls th'Artillary displac'd:
The Armes of England are advanc'd in pride:
The watch Tower, with Saint Georges Banner grac'd:
Live Englands Henry, all the people cride:
Into the Streetes their women runne in hast,
Bearing their little Children, for whose sake
They hop'd the King would the more mercy take.

The gates thus widened with the breath of Warre;
Their ample entrance to the English gave:
There was no dore that then had any barre;
For of their owne not any thing they have:
When Henry comes on his Emperiall Carre:

The King of England entreth Harflew in triumph.

To whom they kneele their lives alone to save.
Strucken with wonder, when that face they sawe,
Wherein such mercy was, with so much awe.

And first themselves the English to secure,
Doubting what danger might be yet within;
The strongest Forts, and Citadell make sure,
To showe that they could keepe as well as win,
And though the spoyles them wondrously alure,
To fall to pillage e'r they will begin,
They shut each passage, by which any power
Might be brought on to hinder, but an hower.

That Conquering King which entring at the gate,
Borne by the presse as in the ayre he swamme:
Upon the suddaine layes aside his state,
And of a Lyon is become a Lambe:
He is not now what he was but of late:
But on his bare feete to the Church he came:
By his example, as did all the presse,
To give God thankes, for his first good successe.

And sends his Herauld to King Charles to say,
That though he thus was setled on his shore,
Yet he his Armes was ready downe to lay,
His ancient right if so he would restore:
But if the same he wilfully denay,

King Henry offereth to decide his right by single combat.

To stop th'effusion of their Subjects gore;
He frankly off'reth in a single fight,
With the young Daulphine to decide his right.

Eight dayes at Harflew he doth stay to heare,
What answere back, his Herauld him would bring:
But when he found that he was ne'r the neere;
And that the Daulphine meaneth no such thing
As to fight single; nor that any were
To deale for composition from the King:
He casts for Callice to make forth his way,
And take such Townes, as in his Journeyes lay.

But first his bus'nesse he doth so contrive,
To curbe the Townes-men, should they chance to stirre
Of Armes, and Office he doth them deprive,
And to their roomes the English doth preferre:
Out of the Ports all Vagrants he doth drive,
And therein sets his Unckle Excester:
This done, to martch he bids the thundring Drummes,
To scourge proud France when now her Conqueror comes.

The King and Daulphine having understood,
How on his way this haughty Henry was
Over the Soame, which is a dangerous flood;
Pluckt downe the Bridges that might give him passe;
And ev'ry thing, if fit for humane food,
Caus'd to be forrag'd; (to a wondrous masse)
And more then this, his Journeyes to fore-slowe,
He scarce one day unskirmish'd with, doth goe.

But on his march, in midst of all his foes;
He like a Lyon keepes them all at bay,
And when they seeme him strictly to enclose;
Yet through the thick'st he hewes him out a way:
Nor the proud Daulphine dare him to oppose;
Though off'ring oft his Army to fore-lay:
Nor all the power the envious French can make,
Force him one foote, his path (but) to forsake.

And each day as his Army doth remove,
Marching along upon Soames Marshy side,
His men at Armes on their tall Horses prove,
To finde some shallow, over where to ryde,
But all in vaine against the Streame they strove,

A foard found in the River of Soame

Till by the helpe of a laborious guide,
A Ford was found to set his Army ore
Which never had discovered beene before.

The newes divulg'd that he had waded Soame,
And safe to shore his Caridges had brought,
Into the Daulphins bosome strooke so home,
And one the weakenesse of King Charles so wrought;
That like the troubled Sea, when it doth Foame,
As in a rage, to beate the Rocks to nought;
So doe they storme, and curse on curse they heapt
Gainst those which should the passages have kept.

And at that time, both resident in Roan,
Thither for this assembling all the Peeres,
Whose Counsailes now must underprop their Throne

A Counsell held at Roan against the King of England.

Against the Foe; which, not a man but feares;
Yet in a moment confident are growne,
When with fresh hopes, each one his fellow cheeres,
That ere the English to their Callis got,
Some for this spoile should pay a bloudy shot.

Therfore they both in solemne Counsaile satt,
With Berry and with Britaine their Alies;
Now speake they of this course, and then of that,
As to insnare him how they might divise;
Something they faine would doe, but know not what,
At length the Duke Alanzon up doth rise,
And craving silence of the King and Lords,
Against the English, brake into this these words,

Had this unbridled youth an Army led,

A speech of the Duke Alanzon, against the English.

That any way were worthy of your feare,
Against our Nation, that durst turne the head,
Such as the former English forces were,
This care of yours, your Countrey then might sted,
To tell you then, who longer can forbeare,
That into question, you our valour bring,
To call a Counsaile for so poore a thing.

A Route of tatter'd Rascalls starved so,
As forced through extreamity of need,
To rake for scraps on Dunghils as they goe,
And on the Berries of the Shrubs to feed,
Besides with fluxes are enfeebled so,
And other foule diseases that they breed,
That they, there Armes disabled are to sway,
But in their march doe leave them on the way.

And to our people but a handfull are,
Scarse thirtie thousand, when to Land they came,
Of which to England dayly some repayre,
Many from Harflew carried sicke and lame,
Fitter for Spittles, and the Surgions care,
Then with their Swords on us to winne them fame,
Unshod, and without stockings are the best,
And those by Winter miserably opprest.

To let them dye upon their march abroad,
And Fowles upon their Carkases to feed,
The heapes of them upon the common road
A great infection likely were to breed,
For our owne safeties see them then bestow'd,
And doe for them this charitable deede:
Under our Swords together let them fall,
And one that day they dye, be buried all.

This bold invective forc'd against the Foe,
Although it most of the Assembly seas'd,
Yet those which better did the English know,
Were but a little with his speeches pleas'd,
And that the Duke of Berry meant to showe:
Which when the murmure somewhat was appeas'd,
After a while their listning silence breakes,
And thus in answere of Alanzon speakes.

The Duke of Berrys answere to Alanzon.

My liedge, quoth he, and you my Lords, and Peeres,
Whom this great businesse chiefely doth concerne,
By my experience, now so many yeeres
To know the English I am not to learne;
Nor I more feeling have of humane feares
Then fitteth Manhood, nor doe hope to earne
Suffrage from any; but by zeale am wonne,
To speake my minde here, as the Duke hath done.

Th'events of Warre are various (as I know)
And say, the losse upon the English light,
Yet may a dying man give such a blow,
As much may hinder his proud Conquerours might;
It is enough our puissant power to showe
To the weake English, now upon their flight,
When want, and winter, strongly spurre them on,
You else but stay them, that would faine be gon.

I like our Forces their first course should hold,
To skirmish with them, upon every stay,
But fight by no meanes with them, though they would,
Except they finde them forraging for pray,
So still you have them shut up in a Fould,
And still to Callis keepe them in their way;
So Fabius wearied Hanibal, so we
May English Henry, pleased if you be.

And of the English rid your Countrey cleane,
If on their backs, but Callice walles they win,
Whose Frontier Townes you easly may maintaine,
With a strong Army still to keepe them in;
Then let our Ships make good the mouth of Seyne,
And at your pleasure Harflew you may winne,
Ere with Supplys againe they can invade,
Spent in the Voyage lately hither made.

That day at Poyteers, in that bloudy Field,
The sudaine turne in that great Battell then,
Shall ever teach me, whilest I Armes can weeld,
Never to trust to multitudes of men;
Twas the first day that ere I wore a Sheeld,
Oh let me never see the like agen!
Where their Blacke Edward such a Battell wonne,
As to behold it might amaze the Sunne.

There did I see our conquered Fathers fall,
Before the English on that fatall ground,
When as to ours their number was but small,
And with brave Spirits France ne'r did more abound,
Yet oft that Battaile into minde I call,
Whereas of ours, one man seemd all one wound,
I instance this; yet humbly here submit
My selfe to fight, if you shall thinke it fit.

The Marshall and the Constable about
To second, what this sager Duke had said:
The youthfull Lords into a cry brake out,
Gainst their opinions, so that over-sway'd,

Young mens counsailes oft-times prove the utter subversion both of themselves and others.

Some seeming of their Loyalties to doubt;
Alanzon as an Oracle obay'd,
And not a French then present, but doth sweare
To kill an English if ynow there were.

A Herault posted presently away,
The King of England to the field to dare,

The French King sendeth to dare the King of England to Battaile.

To bid him cease his spoyle, nor to delay
Gainst the French power his forces but prepare:
For that King Charles determin'd to display
His bloody Ensignes, and through France declare,
The day, and place, that Henry should set downe,
In which their Battailes, should dispose the Crowne.

This newes to Henry by the Herault brought,
As one dispassion'd soberly (quoth he)
Had your King pleas'd, we sooner might have fought;

The King of Englands modest answer.

For now my Souldiers much enfeebled be:
Nor day, nor place, for Battaile shall be sought
By English Henry: but if he seeke me,
I to my utmost will my selfe defend,
And to th'Almighties pleasure leave the end.

The brute of this intended Battaile spred,
The coldnesse of each sleeping courage warmes,
And in the French that daring boldnesse bred:
Like casting Bees that they arise in swarmes,
Thinking the English downe so farre to tred,
As past that day ne'r more to rise in Armes,
T'extirpe the name, if possible it were,
At least not after to be heard of there.

A Simily of the rising of the French.

As when you see the envious Crowe espye,
Something that shee doth naturally detest:
With open throat how shee doth squall and crye;
And from the next Grove calleth in the rest,
And they for those beyond them bawling flye,
Till their foule noyse doe all the ayre infest:
Thus French, the French to this great Battaile call,
Upon their swords to see the English fall.

And to the King when seriously one tolde,
With what an Host he should encountred be,

David Gam, a great Captain in that Warr.

Gam noting well, the King did him behold,
In the reporting; Merrily (quoth he)
My Liege I'le tell you if I may be bold,
We will divide this Army into three:
One part we'll kill, the second prisoners stay;
And for the third, we'll leave to runne away.

But for the Foe came hourely in so fast,
Lest they his Army should disordred take:
The King who wisely doth the worst forecast,
His speedy martch doth presently forsake,
Into such forme and his Batallion cast;
That doe their worst they should not eas'ly shake;
For that his scouts which forrag'd had the Coast,
Bad him at hand expect a puissant Host.

On which ere long the English Vauward light,
Which York, of men the bravest, doth command,

The Duke of Yorke.

When either of them in the others sight,
He caus'd the Army instantly to stand,
As though preparing for a present Fight,
And rideth forth from his couragious Band,
To view the French, whose numbers over spread,
The troubled Country on whose earth they tread.

Now were both Armies got upon that ground,
As on a Stage, where they their strengthes must trye,
Whence from the wydth of many a gaping wound,
There's many a soule into the Ayre must flye:
Meane while the English that some ease had found;
By the advantage of a Village nie,
There set them downe the Battell to abide,
When they the place had strongly fortifide.

Made drunke with pride the haughty French disdaine,

The French scorning the English, being so fewe in respect of their mighty power.

Lesse then their owne, a multitude to view,
Nor aske of God the victory to gaine,
Upon the English wext so poore and fewe,
To stay their slaughter thinking it a paine,
And lastly to that insolence they grewe,
Quoyts, Lots, and Dice for Englishmen to cast,
And sweare to pay, the Battaile being past.

For knots of corde to ev'ry Towne they send,
The Captiv'd English that they caught to binde,
For to perpetuall slav'ry they intend:
Those that alive they on the Field should finde,
So much as that they fear'd lest they should spend
Too many English, wherefore they assignde
Some to keepe fast those, fayne that would be gon
After the Fight, to try their Armes upon.

One his bright sharpe-eg'd Semiter doth showe,
Off'ring to lay a thousand Crownes (in pride)
That he two naked English at one blowe,
Bound back to back will at the wasts divide,
Some bett his sword will do't, some others no,
After the Battaile, and they'll have it tride:
Another wafts his Blade about his head,
And shewes them how their hamstrings he will shread.

They part their prisoners, passing them for debt,
And in their Ransome ratibly accord
To a Prince of ours, a Page of theirs they set;
And a French Lacky to an English Lord;
As for our Gentry them to hyre they'll let,
And as good cheape as they can them afford,
Branded for Slaves, that if they hapt to stray,
Knowne by the marke, them any one might slay.

And cast to make a Chariot for the King,
Painted with Antickes, and ridiculous toyes,
In which they meane to Paris him to bring,
To make sport to their Madames and their Boyes,
And will have Rascalls, Rymes of him to sing,
Made in his mock'ry; and in all these joyes,
They bid the Bells to ring, and people crie,
Before the Battaile, France and Victorie.

And to the King and Daulphine sent away
(Who at that time residing were in Roane)
To be partakers of that glorious day:
Wherein the English should be overthrowne,
Lest that of them ensuing times should say,
That for their safety they forsooke their owne;
When France did that brave victory obtaine,
That shall her lasting'st monument remaine.

The poore distressed Englishmen the whiles,
Not dar'd by doubt, and lesse appaul'd with dread
Of their Arm'd Pykes, some sharpning are the pyles,
The Archer grinding his barb'd Arrow head:
Their Bills and Blades, some whetting are with Files:
And some their Armours strongly Riveted:
Some pointing Stakes to stick into the ground,
To guard the Bow-men, and their Horse to wound.

The night fore-running this most dreadfull day:
The French that all to jollity encline:
Some fall to dancing, some againe to play:

The Ryot in the French Campe the night before the Battell.

And some are drinking to this great Designe:
But all in pleasure spend the night away:
The Tents with lights, the Fields with Boone-fires shine:
The common Souldiers Free-mens Catches sing:
With showtes and laughter all the Campe doth ring.

The wearied English watchfull o'r their Foes,
(The depth of night then drawing on so fast)
That fayne a little would themselves repose,
With thanks to God, doe take that small repast
Which that poore Village willingly bestowes:
And having plac'd their Sentinels at last,
They fall to Prayer, and in their Cabins blest,
T'refresh their spirits, then tooke them to their rest.

In his Pavillion Princely Henry lay'd,
Whilst all his Army round about him slept:

Pondering in his thoughts, his Fathers comming to the Crowne by deposing the rigthfull King.

His restlesse head upon his Helmet stay'd,
For carefull thoughts his eyes long waking kept:
Great God (quoth he) withdraw not now thy ayde:
Nor let my Father Henries sinnes be heapt
On my transgressions, up the Summe to make,
For which thou may'st me utterly forsake.

Henry the fift caused the body of King Richard to be taken up, where it was meanely buried at Langley, and to be layde in Westminster by his first Wife Queene Anne.

King Richards wrongs, to minde, Lord doe not call,
Nor how for him my Father did offend,
From us alone derive not thou his fall,
Whose odious life caus'd his untimely end,
That by our Almes be expiated all:
Let not that sinne on me his Sonne desend,
When as his body I translated have,
And buried in an honourable Grave.

These things thus pondring, sorrow-ceasing sleepe,
From cares to rescue his much troubled minde,
Upon his Eye-lids stealingly doth creepe,
And in soft slumbers every sense doth binde,
(As undisturbed every one to keepe)
When as that Angell to whom God assign'd,
The guiding of the English, gliding downe
The silent Campe doth with fresh courage crowne.

His glittering wings he gloriously displaies,
Over the Hoste as every way it lyes,
With golden Dreames their travell, and repaies,
This Herault from the Rector of the skies,
In Vision warnes them not to use delayes,
But to the Battell cheerefully to rise,
And be victorious, for that day at hand,
He would amongst them for the English stand.

The dawne scarse drewe the curtaines of the East,
But the late wearied Englishmen awake,
And much refreshed with a little rest
Themselves soone ready for the Battaile make,
Not any one but feeleth in his breast,
That sprightly fire which Courage bids him take,
For ere the Sunne next rising went to bed,
The French by them in triumph should be led.

And from their Cabins, ere the French arose,
(Drown'd in the pleasure of the passed night,)
The English cast their Battailes to dispose,
Fit for the ground whereon they were to fight:
Foorth that brave King couragious Henry goes,

The great care of a wise and politike Captaine.

An hower before that it was fully light,
To see if there might any place be found,
To give his Hoste advantage by the ground.

Where twas his hap a Quicksett hedge to view,
Well growne in height; and for his purpose thin,
Yet by the Ditch upon whose banke it grew,
He found it to be difficult to winne,
Especially if those of his were true,
Amongst the shrubbs that he should set within,
By which he knew their strength of Horse must come,
If they would ever chardge his Vangaurd home.

And of three hundred Archers maketh choice,

This Stratagem the overthrow of the French.

Some to be taken out of every Band,
The strongest Bowmen, by the generall voyce,
Such as beside were valient of their hand,
And to be so imployed, as would rejoyce,
Appointing them behinde the hedge to stand,
To shrowde themselves from sight, and to be mute,
Untill a signall freely bad them shute.

The gamesome Larke now got upon her Wing,
As twere the English earely to awake,
And to wide heaven her cheerefull notes doth sing,
As shee for them would intercession make,
Nor all the noyse that from below doth spring,
Her ayrie walke can force her to forsake,
Of some much noted, and of others lesse,
But yet of all presaging good successe.

The lazie French their leisure seem to take,
And in their Cabins keepe themselves so long,
Till flocks of Ravens them with noyse awake,
Over the Army like a Cloud that hong,
Which greater haste inforceth them to make,
When with their croaking all the Countrey rong,
Which boaded slaughter as the most doe say,
But by the French it turned was this way.

That this divyning Foule well understood,

The French mis-interpret the flight of Ravens hovering over their owne Campe.

Upon that place much gore was to be spill'd,
And as those Birds doe much delight in blood,
With humane flesh would have their gorges fill'd,
So waited they upon their Swords for food,
To feast upon the English being kill'd,
Then little thinking that these came in deed
On their owne mangled Carkases to feed.

When soone the French preparing for the Field,
Their armed troops are setting in array,
Whose wondrous numbers they can hardly weeld,
The place too little whereupon they lay,
They therefore to necessitie must yeeld,
And into Order put them as they may,
Whose motion sounded like to Nilus fall,
That the vaste ayre was deafned therewithall.

The Constable, and Admirall of France,
With the grand Marshall, men of great command:

The Marshalling of the French Army, containing three stanzas.

The Dukes of Burbon, and of Orleance,
Some for their place, some for their birth-right stand,
The Daulphine of Averney (to advance
His worth and honour) of a puissant hand:
The Earle of Ewe in Warre that had beene bred,
These mighty men the mighty Vauward led.

The mayne brought forward by the Duke of Barre,
Nevers, and Beamont, men of speciall name:
Alanzon thought, not equall'd in this Warre,
With them Salines, Rous, and Grandpre came,
Their long experience, who had fetcht from farre,
Whom this expected Conquest doth enflame,
Consisting most of Crosbowes, and so great,
As France her selfe it well might seeme to threat.

The Duke of Brabant of high valour knowne,
The Earles of Marle, and Faconbridge the Reare,
To Arthur Earle of Richmount's selfe alone,
They leave the Right wing to be guided there:
Lewes of Burbon, second yet to none,
Led on the left; with him that mighty Peere
The Earle of Vandome, who of all her men
Large France entytled, her great Master then.

The Duke of Yorke the English Vauward guides,

The Marshalling of the English Army containing five stanzas.

Of our strong Archers, that consisted most;
Which with our Horse was wing'd on both the sides:
T'affront so great and terrible an Host;
There valiant Fanhope, and there Beamonut rides,
With Willoughby which scowred had the Coast,
That morning early, and had seene at large,
How the Foe came, that then they were to charge.

Henry himselfe, on the mayne Battell brings,
Nor can these Legions of the French affright
This Mars of men, this King of earthly Kings:
Who seem'd to be much pleased with the sight,
As one ordayn'd t'accomplish mighty things;
Who to the Field came in such brav'ry dight:
As to the English boades successfull luck
Before one stroke, on either side was struck.

The bravery of King Henryes owne Person.

In Warlike state the Royall Standard borne
Before him, as in splendrous Armes he road,
Whilst his corvetting Courser seem'd in scorne
To touch the earth whereon he proudly troad,
Lillyes, and Lyons quarterly adorne;
His Shield, and his Caparison doe load:
Upon his Helme a Crowne with Diamonds deckt,
Which through the Field their Radient fiers reflect.

The Duke of Gloster neere to him agen,
T'assist his Brother in that dreadfull day,
Oxford and Suffolke both true Marshiall men,
Ready to keepe the Battell in Array,
To Excester there was appointed then
The Reare; on which their second succours lay:
Which were the youth, most of the Noblest blood,
Under the Ensignes of their names that stood.

Then of the stakes he doth the care commend,
To certaine troupes that active were and strong,
Onely divis'd the Archers to defend,
Pointed with Iron and of five foote long;
To be remov'd still which way they should bend,
Where the French Horse should thick'st upon them throng,
Which when the Host to charge each other went,
Show'd his great wit that first did them invent.

Both Armies fit, and at the point to fight,
The French themselves assuring of the day;

The scornfull message of the French to the King of England. The Kings answer to the French.

Send to the King of England (as in spight)
To know what he would for his Ransome pay,
Who with this answere doth their scorne requite:
I pray thee Herault wish the French to stay,
And e'r the day be past, I hope to see,
That for their Ransomes they shall send to me.

The French which found how little Henry makes,
Of their vaine boasts, as set therewith on fire,
Whilst each one to his Ensigne him betakes;
The Constable to raise their spleene the hyer,

The Constables Oration to the French.

Thus speakes: Brave friends now for your Grandsires sakes,
Your Country, Honours, or what may inspire
Your soules with courage, straine up all your powers,
To make this day victoriously ours.

Forward stout French, your valours and advance,
By taking vengeance for our Fathers slaine,
And strongly fixe the Diadem of France,
Which to this day unsteady doth remaine:
Now with your swords their Traytours bosomes lance,
And with their bloods wash out that ancient staine,
And make our earth drunke with the English gore,
Which hath of ours oft surfited before.

Let not one live in England once to tell,
What of their King, or of the rest became:
Nor to the English, what in France befell:
But what is bruted by the generall fame:
But now the Drummes began so lowd to yell,
As cut off further what he would declame:
And Henry seeing them on so fast to make,
Thus to his Souldiers comfortably spake.

The King of Englands Oration to the English.

Thinke but upon the justnesse of our cause,
And he's no man their number that will wey;
Thus our great Grandsire purchas'd his applause,
The more they are, the greater is our prey,
We'll hand in hand wade into dangers jawes,
And let report to England this Convey
That it for me no Ransome e'r shall rayse,
Either I'le Conquer, or here end my dayes.

It were no glory for us to subdue
Them, then our number, were the French no more;
When in one Battaile twice our Fathers slue,
Three times so many as themselves before,
But to doe something that were strange and new:
Wherefore (I aske you) Came we to this shore;
Upon these French our Fathers wan renowne,
And with their swords we'll hewe yan Forrest downe.

The meanest Souldier if in Fight he take,
The greatest Prince in yonder Army knowne,
Without controule shall him his prisoner make,
And have his Ransome freely as his owne:
Now English lyes our Honour at the stake,
And now or never be our Valour showne:
God and our Cause, Saint George for England stands,
Now Charge them English, fortune guide your hands.

When hearing one wish all the valiant men
At home in England, with them present were;
The King makes answere instantly agen,

The high valour of the King of England.

I would not have one man more then is here:
If we subdue, lesse should our praise be then:
If overcome, lesse losse shall England beare:
And to our numbers we should give that deede,
Which must from Gods owne powerfull hand proceede.

The dreadfull Charge the Drummes & Trumpets sound,
With hearts exalted, though with humbled eyes,
When as the English kneeling on the ground,
Extend their hands up to the glorious skyes;
Then from the earth as though they did rebound,
Active as fire immediately they rise:
And such a shrill showt from their throats they sent,
As made the French to stagger as they went.

Wherewith they stopt, when Erpingham which led

Sir Thomas Erpingham gave the Signall to the English.

The Armie, sawe, the showt had made them stand,
Wafting his Warder thrice about his head,
He cast it up with his auspicious hand,
Which was the signall through the English spread,
That they should Charge: which as a dread command
Made them rush on, yet with a second rore,
Frighting the French worse then they did before.

But when they sawe the Enemie so slowe,
Which they expected faster to come on,
Some scattering Shot they sent out as to showe,
That their approach they onely stood upon;
Which with more fervour made their rage to glowe,
So much disgrace that they had under-gone.
Which to amend with Ensignes let at large,
Upon the English furiously they Charge.

At the full Moone looke how th'unweldy Tide,

A Simily of the French charging the English.

Shov'd by some Tempest that from Sea doth rise
At the full height, against the ragged side
Of some rough Cliffe (of a Gigantick sise)
Foming with rage impetuously doth ride;
The angry French (in no lesse furious wise)
Of men at Armes upon their ready Horse,
Assayle the English to dispierce their force.

When as those Archers there in Ambush layde,
Having their Broad side as they came along,
With their barb'd Arrowes the French Horses payde:
And in their flankes like cruell Hornets stong:

The three hundred Archers layd in ambush, disorder the French men at Armes at the first encounter.

They kick and crie, of late that proudly nayde:
And from their seats their Armed Riders flong:
They ranne together flying from the Dike,
And make their Riders one another strike.

And whilst the Front of the French Vanguard makes,
Upon the English thinking them to Route,
Their Horses runne upon the Armed stakes,
And being wounded, turne themselves about:
The Bit into his teeth the Courser takes,
And from his Rank flyes with his Master out,
Who either hurts or is hurt of his owne,
If in the throng not both together throwne.

Tumbling on heapes, some of their Horses cast
With their foure feete all up into the ayre:
Under whose backs their Masters breath their last:
Some breake their Raynes, and thence their Riders beare:
Some with their feete stick in the Stirups fast,
By their fierce Jades, and trayled here and there:
Entangled in their Bridles, one back drawes,
And pluckes the Bit out of another jawes.

With showers of Shafts yet still the English ply
The French so fast, upon the point of flight:
With the mayne Battell yet stood Henry by,
Nor all this while had medled in the Fight,
Upon the Horses as in Chase they flye,
Arrowes so thick, in such aboundance light,
That their broad buttocks men like Butts might see,
Whereat for pastime Bow-men shooting be.

When soone De Linnies and Sureres hast,

Two wings of French horse defeated.

To ayde their friends put to this shamefull foyle,
With two light wings of Horse which had beene plac't,
Still to supply where any should recoyle:
But yet their Forces they but vainely waste,
For being light, into the generall spoyle,
Great losse De Linnies shortly doth sustaine,
Yet scapes himselfe; but brave Sureres slaine.

The King who sees how well his Vangaurd sped,
Sends his command that instantly it stay,
Desiring Yorke so bravely that had led,
To hold his Souldiers in their first array,
For it the Conflict very much might sted,
Somewhat to fall aside, and give him way,
Till full up to him he might bring his power,
And make the Conquest compleate in an hower.

Which Yorke obayes, and up King Henry comes,
When for his guidance he had got him roome.
The dreadfull bellowing of whose strait-brac'd Drummes,

The English Vaward and maine Battaile charge the French both at once.

To the French sounded like the dreadfull doome,
And them with such stupidity benummes,
As though the earth had groaned from her wombe,
For the grand slaughter ne'r began till then,
Covering the earth with multitudes of men.

Upon the French what Englishman not falls,
(By the strong Bowmen beaten from their Steeds)
With Battle-axes, Halberts, Bills, and Maules,
Where, in the slaughter every one exceedes,
Where every man, his fellow forward calls,
And shows him where some great-borne Frenchman bleeds,
Whilst Scalps about like broken pot sherds fly,
And kill, kill, kill, the Conquering English cry.

Now wexed horror to the very height,
And scarse a man but wet-shod went in gore,
As two together are in deadly fight,
And to death wounded, as one tumbleth ore,
This Frenchman falling, with his very weight
Doth kill another strucken downe before,
As he againe so falling, likewise feeles
His last breath hastned by anothers heeles.

And whilst the English eagerly pursue
The fearefull French before them still that fly,
The points of Bills and Halbers they imbrue
In their sicke Bowels, beaten downe that lye,
No man respects how, or what blood he drew,
Nor can heare those that for their mercie cry.
Eares are damn'd up with howles and hellish sounds,
One fearefull noyse a fearefuller confounds.

When the couragious Constable of France,

Charles de la Breth Constable of France.

Th'unlucky Vanguard valiantly that led,
Sawe the day turn'd by this disastrous chance,
And how the French before the English fled;
O stay (quoth he) your Ensignes yet advance,
Once more upon the Enemy make head:
Never let France say, we were vanquisht so,
With our backs basely turn'd upon our Foe.

Whom the Chattillyon hapned to accost,
And seeing thus the Constable dismayde:

The Admirall.

Shift noble Lord (quoth he) the day is lost,
If the whole world upon the match were layde,
I cannot thinke but that Black Edwards Ghost
Assists the English, and our Horse hath frayde;
If not, some Divels they have with them then,
That fight against us in the shapes of men.

Not I my Lord, the Constable replies:
By my blest soule, the Field I will not quit:
Whilst two brave Battailes are to bring supplies:
Neither of which one stroke have strucken yet:
Nay (quoth Dampeir) I doe not this advise
More then your selfe, that I doe feare a whit:
Spurre up my Lord, then side to side with mee,
And that I feare not, you shall quickly see.

They struck their Rowells to the bleeding sides
Of their fierce Steeds into the ayre that sprong:
And as their fury at that instant guides:
They thrust themselves into the murth'ring throng,
Where such bad fortune those brave Lords betides:

The Admirall slaine.

The Admirall from off his Horse was flong,
For the sterne English downe before them beere,
All that withstand, the Pesant and the Peere.

Which when the noble Constable with griefe,
Doth this great Lord upon the ground behold;
In his account so absolute a Chiefe,
Whose death through France he knew would be condol'd,
Like a brave Knight to yeeld his friend reliefe,
Doing as much as possibly he could,

The Constable slaine.

Both horse and man is borne into the mayne,
And from his friend not halfe a furlong slayne.

Now Willoughby upon his well-Arm'd Horse,
Into the midst of this Battalion brought,
And valiant Fanhope no whit lesse in force,
Himselfe hath thither through the squadrons raught,
Whereas the English without all remorce,
(Looking like men that deepely were distraught)
Smoking with sweat, besmear'd with dust and blood,
Cut into Cantels all that them withstood.

Yet whilst thus hotely they hold up the Chase
Upon the French, and had so high a hand,
The Duke of Burbon to make good his place,
Inforc'd his troupes (with much adoe) to stand,
To whom the Earle of Suffolke makes a pace,
Bringing a fresh, and yet-unfought-with Band:
Of valiant Bill-men, Oxford with successe,
Up with his Troupes doth with the other presse.

When in comes Orleance, quite thrust off before,
By those rude crowdes that from the English ran,
Encouraging stout Burbons Troupes the more,
T'affront the Foe that instantly began:
Faine would the Duke (if possible) restore,
(Doing as much as could be done by man)
Their Honour lost, by this their late Defeate,
And caused onely, by their base Retreate.

Their men at Armes their Lances closely lock
One in another, and come up so round,
That by the strength and horrour of the shock,
They forc'd the English to forsake their ground,
Shrinking no more then they had beene a Rock,
Though by the Shafts receiving many a wound,
As they would showe, that they were none of those,
That turn'd their backs so basely to their Foes.

Panting for breath his Murrian in his hand,

The courage of Woodhouse remarkable.

Woodhouse comes in as back the English beare,
My Lords (quoth he) what now inforc'd to stand,
When smiling Fortune off'reth us so faire,
The French lye yonder like to wreakes of sand,
And you by this our glory but impaire:
Or now, or never, your first Fight maintaine,
Chatillyon and the Constable are slaine.

Hand over head pell mell upon them ronne,
If you will prove the Masters of the day,
Ferrers and Greystock have so bravely done,
That I envie their glory, and dare say,
From all the English, they the Gole have woone;
Either let's share, or they'll beare all away.
This spoke, his Ax about his head he flings,
And hasts away, as though his heeles had wings.

The Incitation of this youthfull Knight,
Besides amends for their Retrayte to make,
Doth re-enforce their courage, with their might:
A second Charge with speed to undertake;
Never before were they so mad to fight,
When valiant Fanhope thus the Lords bespake,
Suffolke and Oxford as brave Earles you be,
Once more beare up with Willoughby and me.

Why now, me think'st I heare brave Fanhope speake,
Quoth noble Oxford; thou hast thy desire:
These words of thine shall yan Battalion breake:
And for my selfe I never will retire,
Untill our Teene upon the French we wreake:
Or in this our last enterprise expire:
This spoke, their Gauntlets each doth other give,
And to the Charge as fast as they could drive.

That slaughter seem'd to have but stay'd for breath,
To make the horrour to ensue the more:
With hands besmear'd with blood, when meager Death
Looketh more grisly then he did before:
So that each body seem'd but as a sheath
To put their swords in, to the Hilts in gore:
As though that instant were the end of all,
To fell the French, or by the French to fall.

A Simily of the apparance of the Battell.

Looke how you see a field of standing Corne,
When some strong winde in Summer haps to blowe,
At the full height, and ready to be shorne,
Rising in waves, how it doth come and goe
Forward and backward, so the crowds are borne,
Or as the Edie turneth in the flowe:
And above all the Bills and Axes play,
As doe the Attom's in the Sunny ray.

Now with mayne blowes their Armours are unbras'd,
And as the French before the English fled,
With their browne Bills their recreant backs they baste,
And from their shoulders their faint Armes doe shred,
One with a gleave neere cut off by the waste,
Another runnes to ground with halfe a head:
Another stumbling falleth in his flight,
Wanting a legge, and one his face doth light.

The Dukes who found their force thus overthrowne,
And those fewe left them ready still to route,
Having great skill, and no lesse courage showne;
Yet of their safeties much began to doubt,
For having fewe about them of their owne,
And by the English so impal'd about,
Saw that to some one they themselves must yeeld,
Or else abide the fury of the field.

They put themselves on those victorious Lords,
Who led the Vanguard with so good successe,

The Duke of Burbon and Orleance taken prisoners.

Bespeaking them with honourable words,
Themselves their prisoners freely and confesse,
Who by the strength of their commanding swords,
Could hardly save them from the slaught'ring presse,
By Suffolks ayde till they away were sent,
Who with a Guard convay'd them to his Tent.

When as their Souldiers to eschew the sack,
Gainst their owne Battell bearing in their flight,
By their owne French are strongly beaten back:
Lest they their Ranks, should have disord'red quight,
So that those men at Armes goe all to wrack
Twixt their owne friends, and those with whom they fight,
Wherein disorder and destruction seem'd
To strive, which should the powerfullest be deem'd.

And whilst the Daulphine of Averney cryes,

Called of some Guiscard the Daulphine of Aragon.

Stay men at Armes, let Fortune doe her worst,
And let that Villaine from the field that flyes
By Babes yet to be borne, be ever curst:
All under heaven that we can hope for, lyes
On this dayes battell, let me be the first
That turn'd yee back upon your desperate Foes,
To save our Honours, though our lyves we lose.

To whom comes in the Earle of Ewe, which long
Had in the Battaile ranged here and there,
A thousand Bills, a thousand Bowes among,
And had seene many spectakles of feare,
And finding yet the Daulphins spirit so strong,
By that which he had chanst from him to heare,
Upon the shoulder claps him, Prince quoth he,
Since I must fall, ô let me fall with thee.

Scarse had he spoke, but th'English them inclose,
And like to Mastives fircely on them flew,
Who with like Courage strongly them oppose,
When the Lord Beamont, who their Armings knewe,
Their present perill to brave Suffolke shewes,
Quoth hee, Lo where Daverney are and Ewe,
In this small time, who since the Field begun,
Have done as much, as can by men be done.

Now slaughter cease me, if I doe not greeve,
Two so brave Spirits should be untimely slaine,
Lies there no way (my Lord) them to releeve,
And for their Ransomes two such to retaine:
Quoth Suffolke, come weele hazard their repreeve,
And share our Fortunes, in they goe amaine,
And with such danger through the presse they wade,
As of their lives but small account they made.

Yet ere they through the clustred Crouds could get,
Oft downe on those, there trod to death that lay,

The Daulphin of Averney slaine.

The valient Daulphin had discharg'd his debt,
Then whom no man had bravelier serv'd that day.

The Earle of Ewe taken prisoner.

The Earle of Ewe, and wondrous hard beset:
Had left all hope of life to scape away:
Till noble Beamont and brave Suffolke came,
And as their prisoner seas'd him by his name.

Now the mayne Battaile of the French came on,
The Vauward vanquisht, quite the Field doth flye,
And other helpes besides this, have they none:
But that their hopes doe on their mayne relye,
And therefore now it standeth them upon,
To fight it bravely, or else yeeld, or dye:
For the fierce English Charge so home and sore,
As in their hands Joves Thunderbolts they bore.

The Duke of Yorke slaine.

The Duke of Yorke, who since the fight begun,
Still in the top of all his Troopes was seene,
And things well neere beyond beleefe had done,
Which of his Fortune, made him overweene,
Himselfe so farre into the maine doth runne,
So that the French which quickly got betweene
Him and his succours, that great Chiefetaine slue,
Who bravely fought whilest any breath he drew.

The newes soone brought to this Couragious King,
Orespred his face with a distempred Fire,
Though making little shew of any thing,

The King heareth of the Duke of Yorks death.

Yet to the full his eyes exprest his Ire,
More then before the Frenchmen menacing;
And hee was heard thus softly to respire:
Well, of thy blood revenged will I bee,

The Kings resolution.

Or ere one houre be past Ile follow thee.

When as the frolicke Cavalry of France,
That in the head of the maine Battaile came,
Perceiv'd the King of England to advance,
To Charge in person; It doth them inflame,
Each one well hoping it might be his chance
To sease upon him, which was all their ayme,
Then with the bravest of the English mett,
Themselves that there before the King had sett.

When the Earle of Cornewal with unusuall force,

The bloody scuffle betweene the French and English, at the Joyning of the two maine Battailes, in five Stanzas

Encounters Grandpre (next that came to hands)
In Strength his equall, blow for blow they scorce,
Weelding their Axes as they had beene wands,
Till the Earle tumbles Grandpre from his Horse,
Over whom straight the Count Salines stands,
And lendeth Cornwal such a blow withall,
Over the Crupper that he makes him fall.

Cornwal recovers, for his Armes were good,
And to Salines maketh up againe,
Who changde such boysterous buffets, that the blood,
Doth through the Joints of their strong Armour straine,
Till Count Salines sunck downe where he stood,
Blamount who sees the Count Salines slaine,
Straight copes with Cornwal beaten out of breath
Till Kent comes in, and rescues him from death.

Kent upon Blamount furiously doth flye,
Who at the Earle with no lesse courage struck,
And one the other with such knocks they plye,
That eithers Axe in th'others Helmet stuck;
Whilst they are wrastling, crossing thigh with thigh;
Their Axes pykes, which soonest out should pluck:
They fall to ground like in their Casks to smother,
With their clutcht Gauntlets cuffing one another.

Couragious Cluet grieved at the sight
Of his friend Blamounts unexpected fall,

Called Cluet of Brabant.

Makes in to lend him all the ayde he might;
Whose comming seem'd the stout Lord Scales to call,
Betwixt whom then began a mortall fight,
When instantly fell in Sir Phillip Hall,
Gainst him goes Roussy, in then Lovell ran,
Whom next Count Morvyle chuseth as his man.

Their Curates are unrivetted with blowes,
With horrid wounds their breasts and faces slasht;
There drops a cheeke, and there falls off a nose:
And in ones face his fellowes braines are dasht;
Yet still the Better with the English goes;
The earth of France with her owne blood is washt;
They fall so fast, she scarse affords them roome,
That one mans Trunke becomes anothers Toombe.

The Earle of Suffolke chargeth the Earle of Huntingdon With breach of promise.

When Suffolk chargeth Huntingdon with sloth,
Over himselfe too wary to have bin,
And had neglected his fast plighted troth
Upon the Field, the Battaile to begin,
That where the one was, there they would be both;
When the stout Earle of Huntingdon, to win
Trust with his friends; doth this himselfe enlarge
To this great Earle who dares him thus to charge.

My Lord (quoth he) it is not that I feare,
More then your selfe, that so I have not gone;
But that I have beene forced to be neare
The King, whose person I attend upon,
And that I doubt not but to make appeare
Now, if occasion shall but call me on;
Looke round about my Lord, if you can see,
Some brave adventure worthy you and me.

A desperate attempt by the Earle of Huntingdon.

See yan proud Banner, of the Duke of Barres,
Me thinkst it wafts us, and I heare it say,
Wher's that couragious Englishman that darres,
Adventure, but to carry me away,
This were a thing, now worthy of our warres;
I'st true, quoth Suffolke, by this blessed day,
On, and weele have it, sayst thou so indeed,
Quoth Huntingdon, then Fortune be our speed.

And through the Ranckes then rushing in their pride,
They make a Lane; about them so they lay,
Foote goes with foote, and side is joynde to side,
They strike downe all that stand within their way,
And to direct them have no other guide,
But as they see the multitude to sway;
And as they passe, the French as to defie,
Saint George for England and the King they cry.

By their examples, each brave English blood,
Upon the Frenchmen for their Ensignes runne,

One brave exploit begetteth another.

Thicke there as trees within a well-growne wood;
Where great Atchiements instantly were done,
Against them toughly whilst that Nation stood,
But ô what man his destinie can shunne,
That Noble Suffolke there is overthrowne,

The Earle of Suffolke slaine.

When he much valour sundry wayes had showne.

Which the proud English further doth provoke,
Who to destruction bodily were bent,
That the maine Battaile instantly they broke,
Upon the French so furiously they went,
And not an English but doth scorne a stroake,
If to the ground it not a Frenchman sent,
Who weake with wounds, their weapons from them threw,

The English kill the French with their owne Weapons.

With which the English fearefully them slue.

Alanzon backe upon the Reareward borne,
By those unarm'd that from the English fled,
All further hopes then utterly forlorne,
His Noble heart in his full Bosome bled;
What Fate, quoth he, our overthrowe hath sworne,
Must France a Prisoner be to England led,
Well, if she be so, yet Ile let her see,
She beares my Carkasse with her, and not me.

And puts his Horse upon his full Careere,
When with the courage of a valiant Knight
(As one that knew not, or forgot to feare)
He tow'rds King Henry maketh in the fight,
And all before him as he downe doth beare,
Upon the Duke of Glocester doth light:
Which on the youthfull Chivalry doth bring,
Scarse two Pykes length that came before the King.

Their Staves both strongly rivetted with steele,
At the first stroke each other they astound,
That as they staggering from each other reele;

The Duke of Glocester overthrowne by the Duke of Alanzon.

The Duke of Gloster falleth to the ground:
When as Alanzon round about doth wheele,
Thinking to lend him his last deadly wound:
In comes the King his Brothers life to save,
And to this brave Duke, a fresh on-set gave.

When as themselves like Thunderbolts they shot,
One at the other, and the Lightning brake
Out of their Helmets, and againe was not,
E'r of their strokes, the eare a sound could take
Betwixt them two, the Conflict grew so hot,
Which those about them so amaz'd doth make,
That they stood still as wondring at the sight,
And quite forgot that they themselves must fight.

Upon the King Alanzon prest so sore,

The King of England in danger to be slaine, by the Duke of Alanzon.

That with a stroke (as he was wondrous strong)
He cleft the Crowne that on his Helme he wore,
And tore his Plume that to his heeles it hong:
Then with a second brus'd his Helme before,
That it his forehead pittifully wroong:
As some that sawe it certainly had thought,
The King therewith had to the ground beene brought.

But Henry soone Alanzons Ire to quit,

Alanzon beaten downe by the King of England.

(As now his valour lay upon the Rack)
Upon the face the Duke so strongly hit,
As in his Saddle layde him on his back,
And once perceiving that he had him split,
Follow'd his blowes, redoubling thwack on thwack:
Till he had lost his Stirups, and his head
Hung where his Horse was like thereon to tread.

When soone two other seconding their Lord,

The King killeth two Gentlemen that adventure to rescue the Duke.

His kinde Companions in this glorious prize,
Hoping againe the Duke to have restor'd,
If to his feet his Armes would let him rise:
On the Kings Helme their height of fury scor'd;
Who like a Dragon fiercely on them flies,
And on his body slew them both, whilst he
Recovering was their ayde againe to be.

The King thus made the Master of the Fight:
The Duke calls to him as he there doth lye:
Henry I'le pay my Ransome, doe me right:
I am the Duke Alanzon; it is I.
The King to save him putting all his might,
Yet the rude Souldiers with their showt and crie,

The Duke Alanzon slaine.

Quite drown'd his voyce, his Helmet being shut,
And that brave Duke into small peeces cut.

Report once spred, through the distracted Host,
Of their prime hope, the Duke Alanzon slayne:
That flower of France, on whom they trusted most:
They found their valour was but then in vayne:
Like men their hearts that utterly had lost,
Who slowly fled before, now ranne amayne.
Nor could a man be found, but that dispaires
Seeing the Fate both of themselves and theirs.

The Duke Nevers, now in this sad retreat,

The Duke Nevers taken prisoner.

By David Gam and Morisby persude,
(Who throughly chaf'd, neere melted into sweat,
And with French blood their Poleaxes imbrud)
They sease upon him following the defeate,
Amongst the faint, and fearefull multitude;
When a contention fell betweene them twaine,

Morisby and Gam at contention for the Duke of Neveres.

To whom the Duke should rightfully pertaine.

I must confesse thou hadst him first in chase,
Quoth Morrisby; but lefts him in the throng,
Then put I on; quoth Gam, hast thou the face,
Insulting Knight, to offer me this wrong;
Quoth Morisby, who shall decide the case,
Let him confesse to whom he doth belong;
Let him (quoth Gam) but if't be not to me,
For any right you have, he may goe free.

With that couragious Morrisby grew hot,

Morisby a brave young Knight.

Were not said he his Ransome worth a pin,
Now by these Armes I weare thou gett'st him not:
Or if thou do'st, thou shalt him hardly win;
Gam whose Welch blood could hardly brooke this blot,

David Gam oft mentioned in this Poem.

To bend his Axe upon him doth begin:
He his at him, till the Lord Beamount came
Their rash attempt, and wisely thus doth blame.

Are not the French twice trebl'd to our power,
And fighting still, nay, doubtfull yet the day:
Thinke you not these us fast enough devowre:
But that your braves the Army must dismay:
If ought but good befall us in this howre:
This be you sure your lyves for it must pay:
Then first the end of this dayes Battaile see,
And then decide whose prisoner he shall be.

The Duke of Excester commeth in with the Reare.

Now Excester with his untaynted Reare
Came on, which long had labour'd to come in:
And with the Kings mayne Battell up doth beare;
Who still kept off, till the last houre had bin:
He cryes and clamours ev'ry way doth heare:
But yet he knew not which the day should win:
Nor askes of any what were fit to doe,
But where the French were thick'st, he falleth to.

The Earle of Vandom certainly that thought,
The English fury somewhat had beene stayde:
Weary with slaughter as men over-wrought,
Nor had beene spurr'd on by a second ayde:
For his owne safety, then more fiercely fought,
Hoping the tempest somewhat had beene layde:
And he thereby (though suff'ring the defeate,
Might keepe his Reareward whole in his Retreate.

On whom the Duke of Excester then fell,
Reare with the Reare now for their Valours vy,
Ours finde the French their lyves will dearely sell;
And th'English meane as dearely them to buy:
The English follow, should they runne through hell,
And through the same the French must, if they flye,
When too't they goe, deciding it with blowes,
With th'one side now, then with th'other't goes.

But the sterne English with such luck and might,
(As though the Fates had sworne to take their parts)
Upon the French prevailing in the Fight,
With doubled hands, and with re-doubled harts,
The more in perill still the more in plight,
Gainst them whom Fortune miserably thwarts:
Disabled quite before the Foe to stand,
But fall like grasse before the Mowers hand.

That this French Earle is beaten on the Field,
His fighting Souldiers round about him slaine;
And when himselfe a Prisoner he would yeeld,

The Earle of Vandome slaine.

And beg'd for life, it was but all in vaine;
Their Bills the English doe so easely weeld
To kill the French, as though it were no paine;
For this to them was their auspicious day,
The more the English fight, the more they may.

When now the Marshall Boucequalt, which long
Had through the Battaile waded ev'ry way,
Oft hazarded the murther'd Troupes among,
Encouraging them to abide the day:
Finding the Army that he thought so strong,
Before the English faintly to dismay,
Brings on the wings which of the rest remain'd,
With which the Battaile stoutly he maintain'd.

Till olde Sir Thomas Erpingham at last,

Sir Thomas Erpingham getteth in with his three hundred Archers.

With those three hundred Archers commeth in,
Which layd in ambush not three houres yet past;
Had the Defeat of the French Army bin,
With these that noble Souldier maketh hast,
Lest other from him should the honour win:
Who as before now stretch their well-wax'd strings,
At the French Horse then comming in the wings.

The soyle with slaughter ev'ry where they load,
Whilst the French stoutly to the English stood,
The drops from eithers emptied veynes that flow'd,
Where it was lately firme had made a flood:
But heav'n that day to the brave English ow'd;
The Sunne that rose in water, set in blood:
Nothing but horrour to be look'd for there,
And the stout Marshall vainely doth but feare.

His Horse sore wounded whilst he went aside,

The Marshall of France slaine.

To take another still that doth attend,
A shaft which some too-lucky hand doth guide,
Peircing his Gorget brought him to his end;
Which when the proud Lord Falkonbridge espide,
Thinking from thence to beare away his friend,
Strucke from his Horse, with many a mortall wound,
Is by the English nayled to the ground.

The Marshalls death so much doth them affright,
That downe their weapons instantly they lay,
And better yet to fit them for their flight,
Their weightier Armes, they wholly cast away,
Their hearts so heavy, makes their heeles so light,
That there was no intreating them to stay,
Ore hedge and ditch distractedly they take,
And happiest he, that greatest haste could make,

Count Vadamount.

When Vadamount now in the Conflict mett,
With valient Brabant, whose high valour showne
That day, did many a blunted Courage whett,
Else long before that from the Field had flowne,
Quoth Vadamount, see how we are besett,

The Duke of Brabant a most couragious Prince.

To death like to be troden by our owne,
My Lord of Brabant, what is to be done?
See how the French before the English runne.

A bitter exclamation of the Duke of Brabant against the French.

Why, let them runne and never turne the head,
Quoth the brave Duke, untill their hatefull breath
Forsake their Bodies, and so farre have fled,
That France be not disparadg'd by their death:
Who trusts to Cowards ne'r is better sped,
Be he accurst, with such that holdeth faith,
Slaughter consume the Recreants as they flye,
Branded with shame, so basely may they dye.

Ignoble French, your fainting Cowardize craves
The dreadful curse of your owne Mother earth,
Hardning her breast, not to allow you graves,
Be she so much ashamed of your birth;
May he be curst that one of you but saves,
And be in France hereafter such a dearth
Of Courage, that men from their wits it feare,
A Drumme, or Trumpet when they hap to heare.

From Burgundy brought I the force I had,

Anthony Duke of Brabant, sonne to the Duke of Burgundy.

To fight for them, that ten from one doe flye;
It splits my breast, O that I could be mad;
To vexe these Slaves who would not dare to dye:
In all this Army is there not a Lad,
Th'ignoble French for Cowards that dare crye:
If scarce one found, then let me be that one,
The English Army that oppos'd alone.

This said, he puts his Horse upon his speed,
And in, like lightning on the English flewe:
Where many a Mothers sonne he made to bleed,
Whilst him with much astonishment they viewe:
Where having acted many a Knight-like deed,
Him and his Horse they all to peeces hewe:
Yet he that day more lasting glory wan,

The valiant Duke of Brabant slaine.

Except Alanzon then did any man.

When as report to great King Henry came,
Of a vast Route which from the Battaile fled,
(Amongst the French most men of speciall name)
By the stout English fiercely followed;
Had for their safety, (much though to their shame)

Many of the French in their flight get into an old Fort.

Got in their flight into so strong a sted,
So fortifi'd by nature (as 'twas thought)
They might not thence, but with much blood be brought.

An aged Rampire, with huge Ruines heapt,
Which serv'd for Shot, gainst those that should assayle,
Whose narrow entrance they with Crosbowes kept,
Whose sharpned quarres came in show'rs like hayle:
Quoth the brave King, first let the field be swept,
And with the rest we well enough shall deale;

The Kings slight answer.

Which though some heard, and so shut up their eare,
Yet relish'd not with many Souldiers there.

Some that themselves by Ransomes would enrich,
(To make their pray of Pesants yet dispise)
Felt as they thought their bloody palmes to itch,
To be in action for their wealthy prize:
Others whom onely glory doth bewitch,
Rather then life would to this enterprize:
Most men seem'd willing, yet not any one
Would put himselfe this great exployt upon.

Which Woodhouse hearing meerily thus spake,
(One that right well knew, both his worth and wit)

Woodhouse jeereth at the attempt.

A dangerous thing it is to undertake
A Fort, where Souldiers be defending it,
Perhaps they sleepe, and if they should awake,
With stones, or with their shafts they may us hitt,
And in our Conquest whilst so well we fare,
It were meere folly, but I see none dare.

Which Gam o'r hearing (being neere at hand)
Not dare quoth he, and angerly doth frowne,

Braves passe between Gam and Woodhouse.

I tell thee Woodhouse, some in presence stand,
Dare propp the Sunne if it were falling downe,
Dare graspe the bolt from Thunder in his hand,
And through a Cannon leape into a Towne;
I tell thee, a resolved man may doe
Things, that thy thoughts, yet never mounted to.

I know that resolution may doe much,
Woodhouse replyes, but who could act my thought,
With his proud head the Pole might easely tuch,
And Gam quoth he, though bravely thou hast fought,
Yet not the fame thou hast attain'd too, such,
But that behind, as great is to be bought,
And yonder tis, then Gam come up with me,
Where soone the King our Courages shall see.

Agreed quoth Gam, and up their Troopes they call,
Hand over head, and on the French they ran,
And to the fight couragiously they fall,
When on both sides the slaughter soone began;
Fortune awhile indifferent is to all,
These what they may, and those doe what they can,
Woodhouse and Gam, upon each other vye,
By Armes their manhood desperatly to try.

To clime the Fort the Light-Arm'd English strive,
And some by Trees there growing to ascend;
The French with Flints let at the English drive,

Captaine Gam slaine.

Themselves with Shields the Englishmen defend,
And faine the Fort downe with their hands would rive:

For this service done by Woodhouse, there was an addition of honour given him: which was a hand holding a Club: with the word, Frappe Fort, which is born by the Family of the Woodhouse of Norfolke, to this day.

Thus either side their utmost power extend,
Till valiant Gam sore wounded, drawne aside
By his owne Souldiers, shortly after dy'de.

Then take they up the bodies of the slaine,
Which for their Targets ours before them beare,
And with a fresh assault come on againe;
Scarse in the Field yet, such a fight as there,
Crosse-bowes, and Long-bowes at it are amaine,
Until the French their massacre that feare,
Of the fierce English, a cessation crave,
Offring to yeeld, so they their lives would save.

Lewis of Burbon in the furious heat
Of this great Battaile, having made some stay,
Who with the left wing suffered a defeate,
In the beginning of this lucklesse day,
Finding the English forcing their retreat,
And that much hope upon his valour lay,
Fearing lest he might undergoe some shame,
That were unworthy of the Burbon name.

Hath gathered up some scattred Troopes of Horse,
That in the Field stood doubtfull what to doe;
Though with much toyle, which he doth reinforce
With some small power that he doth add thereto,
Proclaiming still the English had the worse,
And now at last, with him if they would goe,
He dares assure them Victory, if not
The greatest fame that ever Souldiers gott.

And being wise, so Burbon to beguile
The French, (preparing instantly to fly)
Procures a Souldier, by a secret wile

A devise of Burbons to give incouragement to the French.

To come in swiftly and to crave supply,
That if with Courage they would fight awhile,
It certaine was the English all should dye,
For that the King had offered them to yeeld,
Finding his troopes to leave him on the Field.

When Arthur Earle of Richmount comming in,
With the right wing that long staid out of sight,
Having too lately with the English bin,
But finding Burbon bent againe to fight,
His former credit hoping yet to winn,
(Which at that instant easily he might)
Comes close up with him, and puts on as fast,
Bravely resolv'd to fight it to the last.

And both encourag'd by the newes was braught
Of the ariving of the Daulphins power;
Whose speedy Van, their Reare had almost raught,
(From Agincourt discover'd from a Tower)
Which with the Norman Gallantry was fraught,
And on the suddaine comming like a shower;
Would bring a deluge on the English Host,
Whilst yet they stood their victory to boast.

And one they come, as doth a rowling tide,
Forc'd by a winde, that shoves it forth so fast,

A simily of the French.

Till it choke up some chanell side to side,
And the craz'd banks doth downe before it cast,
Hoping the English would them not abide,
Or would be so amated at their hast,
That should they faile to route them at their will,
Yet of their blood, the fields should drinke their fill.

When as the English whose o'r-wearied Armes,
Were with long slaughter lately waxed sore,
These inexpected, and so fierce Alarmes,
To their first strength doe instantly restore,
And like a Stove their stifned sinewes warmes,
To act as bravely as they did before;
And the proud French as stoutly to oppose,
Scorning to yeeld one foote despight of blowes.

The fight is fearefull, for stout Burbon brings
His fresher forces on with such a shocke,
That they were like to cut the Archers strings
E're they their Arrowes hansomly could nock,
The French like Engines that were made with springs:
Themselves so fast into the English lock,
That th'one was like the other downe to beare,
In wanting roomth to strike, they stood so neare.

Till staggering long they from each other reel'd,
Glad that themselves they so could disingage:
And falling back upon the spacious field
(For this last Sceane, that is the bloody Stage)
Where they their Weapons liberally could weeld,
They with such madnesse execute their rage;
As though the former fury of the day,
To this encounter had but beene a play.

Slaughter is now desected to the full,
Here from their backs their batter'd Armors fall,
Here a sleft shoulder, there a cloven scull,
There hang his eyes out beaten with a mall,
Untill the edges of their Bills growe dull,
Upon each other they so spend their gall,
Wilde showtes and clamors all the ayre doe fill,
The French cry tue, and the English kill.

The Duke of Barre in this vast spoyle by chance;
With the Lord Saint-John on the Field doth meete,
Tow'rds whom that brave Duke doth himselfe advance,
Who with the like encounter him doth greete:
This English Barron, and this Peere of France,
Grapling together, falling from their feete,
With the rude crowdes had both to death beene crusht,
In for their safety, had their friends not rusht.

Both againe rais'd, and both their Souldiers shift,
To save their lyves if any way they could:
But as the French the Duke away would lift,
Upon his Armes the English taking hould,
(Men of that sort, that thought upon their thrift)
Knowing his Ransome dearely would be sould:
Dragge him away in spight of their defence,
Which to their Quarter would have borne him thence.

Meane while brave Burbon from his stirring Horse,
Gall'd with an Arrow to the earth is throwne;
By a meane Souldier seased on by force,

Lewes of Burbon taken prisoner by a meane Souldier.

Hoping to have him certainly his owne,
Which this Lord holdeth better so then worse:
Since the French fortune to that ebbe is growne,
And he perceives the Souldier him doth deeme,
To be a person of no meane esteeme.

Berckley and Burnell, two brave English Lords,
Flesht with French blood, and in their Valours pride,
Above their Arm'd heads brandishing their swords,
As they tryumphing through the Army ride,
Finding what prizes Fortune here affords
To ev'ry Souldier, and more wistly eyde
This gallant prisoner, by his Arming see,
Of the great Burbon family to be.

And from the Souldier they his Prisoner take,
Of which the French Lord seemeth wondrous faine
Thereby his safety more secure to make:
Which when the Souldier findes his hopes in vaine,

Lewes of Burbon stabd by the Souldier that took him prisoner.

So rich a Booty forced to forsake,
To put himselfe, and prisoner out of paine:
He on the suddaine stabs him, and doth sweare,
Would th'ave his Ransome, they should take it there.

When Rosse and Morley making in amaine,
Bring the Lord Darcy up with them along,
Whose Horse had lately under him beene slaine;
And they on foote found fighting in the throng,
Those Lords his friends remounting him againe,
Being a man that valiant was and strong:
They altogether with a generall hand,
Charge on the French that they could finde to stand.

And yet but vainely as the French suppos'd,
For th'Earle of Richmount forth such earth had found,
That one two sides with quick-set was enclos'd,
And the way to it by a rising ground,
By which a while the English were oppos'd,
At every Charge which else came up so round,
As that except the passage put them by,
The French as well might leave their Armes and flye.

Upon both parts it furiously is fought,
And with such quicknesse riseth to that hight,
That horror neede no further to be sought:
If onely that might satisfie the sight,
Who would have fame full dearely here it bought,
For it was sold by measure and by waight,
And at one rate the price still certaine stood,
An ounce of honour cost a pound of blood.

The Lords Dampier and Savesses taken prisoners.

When so it hapt that Dampier in the Van,
Meetes with stout Darcy, but whilst him he prest,
Over and over commeth horse and man,
Of whom the other soone himselfe possest:
When as Savesses upon Darcy ran
To ayde Dampier, but as he him adrest;
A Halbert taking hold upon his Greaves,
Him from his Saddle violently heaves.

When soone five hundred Englishmen at Armes,
That to the French had given many a chase;
And when they covered all the Field with swarmes;
Yet oft that day had bravely bid them base:
Now at the last by raising fresh Alarmes;
And comming up with an unusuall pace,
Made them to know, that they must runne or yeeld,
Never till now the English had the Field.

Where Arthur Earle of Richmount beaten downe,
Is left (suppos'd of ev'ry one for dead)
But afterwards awaking from his swoone,

Arthur Earle of Richmount taken prisoner.

By some that found him, was recovered:
So Count Du Marle was likewise overthrowne:

The Count du Marle slaine.

As he was turning meaning to have fled,
Who fights, the colde blade in his bosome feeles,
Who flyes, still heares it whisking at his heeles.

Till all disrank'd, like seely Sheepe they runne,
By threats nor prayers, to be constrain'd to stay;
For that their hearts were so extreamely done,
That fainting oft they fall upon the way:
Or when they might a present perill shunne,
They rush upon it by their much dismay,
That from the English should they safely flye,
Of their owne very feare, yet they should dye.

Some they take prisoners, other some they kill,
As they affect those upon whom they fall:
For they as Victors may doe what they will:
For who this Conqueror to account dare call,
In gore the English seeme their soules to swill,
And the dejected French must suffer all;
Flight, cords, and slaughter, are the onely three,
To which themselves subjected they doe see.

A shoolesse Souldier there a man might meete,
Leading his Mounsier by the armes fast bound:
Another, his had shackled by the feete;

The misery of the French.

Who like a Cripple shuffled on the ground;
Another three or foure before him beete,
Like harmefull Chattell driven to a pound;
They must abide it, so the Victor will,
Who at his pleasure may, or save, or kill.

That brave French Gallant, when the fight began,
Whose lease of Lackies ambled by his side,
Himselfe a Lacky now most basely ran,
Whilst a rag'd Souldier on his Horse doth ride,
That Rascall is no lesse then at his man,
Who was but lately to his Luggadge tide;
And the French Lord now courtsies to that slave,
Who the last day his Almes was like to crave.

And those few English wounded in the fight,
They force the French to bring with them away,

The French forced to beare the wounded English on their backs.

Who when they were depressed with the weight,
Yet dar'd not once their burthen downe to lay,
Those in the morne, whose hopes were at their height,
Are fallne thus lowe ere the departing day;
With pickes of Halberts prickt in steed of goads,
Like tyred Horses labouring with their Loads.

But as the English from the Field returne,
Some of those French who when the Fight began,
Forsooke their friends, and hoping yet to earne,
Pardon, for that so cowardly they ran,
Assay the English Carridges to burne,
Which to defend them scarsely had a man;
For that their keepers to the field were got,
To picke such spoyles, as chance should them alott.

The Captaines of this Rascall cowardly Route,
Were Isambert of Agincourt at hand,

A crew of rascall French rifle the King of Englands Tents.

Riflant of Clunasse a Dorpe there about,
And for the Chiefe in this their base command,
Was Robinett of Burnivile; throughout
The Countrie knowne, all order to withstand,
These with five hundred Peasants they had rais'd
The English Tents, upon an instant seas'd.

For setting on those with the Luggadge left,
A few poore Sutlers with the Campe that went,
They basely fell to pillage and to theft,
And having rifled every Booth and Tent,
Some of the sillyest they of life bereft,
The feare of which, some of the other sent,
Into the Army, with their suddaine cries,
Which put the King in feare of fresh supplies.

For that his Souldiers tyred in the fight,

The French prisoners more in number then the English Souldiers.

Their Prisoners more in number then they were,
He thought it for a thing of too much weight,
T'oppose freshe forces, and to gaurd them there.
The Daulphins Powers, yet standing in their sight,
And Burbons Forces of the field not cleere,
These yearning cryes, that from the Caridge came,
His bloud yet hott, more highly doth inflame,

And in his rage he instantly commands,
That every English should his prisoner kill,
Except some fewe in some great Captaines hands
Whose Ransomes might his emptyed Cofers fill,
Alls one whose loose, or who is nowe in bonds,

The English kill their prisoners.

Both must one way, it is the Conquerers will.
Those who late thought, small Ransoms them might free
Saw onely death their Ransomes now must be.

Accursed French, and could it not suffize,

Expostulation.

That ye but now bath'd in your native gore;
But yee must thus infortunately rise,
To drawe more plagues upon yee then before,
And gainst your selfe more mischeife to divise,
Then th'English could have, and set wide the dore,
To utter ruine, and to make an end
Of that your selves, which others would not spend.

Their utmost rage the English now had breath'd,
And their proud heartes gan somewhat to relent,
Their bloody swords they quietly had sheath'd,
And their strong bowes already were unbent,
To easefull rest their bodies they bequeath'd,
Nor farther harme at all to you they ment,
And to that paynes must yee them needsly putt,

The French cause of their owne massechre

To draw their knives once more your throats to cutt.

That French who lately by the English stood,
And freely ask'd what ransome he should pay,
Whoe somwhat coold, and in a calmer moode,

A discriptyon of the Massachre in the foure following stanzas

Agreed with him both of the some and day,
Nowe findes his flesh must be the present foode,
For wolves and Ravens, for the same that stay,
And sees his blood on th'others sword to flowe,
E'r his quicke sense could aprehend the blowe.

Whilst one is asking what the bus'nesse is,
Hearing (in French) his Country-man to crye:
He who detaines him prisoner, answers this:
Mounsier, the King commands that you must dye;
This is plaine English, whilst he's killing his:
He sees another on a French man flye,
And with a Poleax pasheth out his braines,
Whilst he's demanding what the Garboyle meanes.

That tender heart whose chance it was to have,
Some one, that day who did much valour showe,
Who might perhaps have had him for his Slave:
But equall Lots had Fate pleas'd to bestowe:
He who his prisoner willingly would save,
Lastly constrain'd to give the deadly blowe
That sends him downe to everlasting sleepe:
Turning his face, full bitterly doth weepe.

Ten thousand French that inwardly were well,
Save some light hurts that any man might heale:
Even at an instant, in a minute fell,
And their owne friends their deathes to them to deale.
Yet of so many, very fewe could tell,
Nor could the English perfectly reveale,
The desperate cause of this disastrous hap,
But even as Thunder kill'd them with a clap.

How happy were those in the very hight,
Of this great Battaile, that had bravely dyde,
When as their boyling bosomes in the fight,
Felt not the sharpe steele thorough them to slide:
But these now in a miserable plight,
Must in cold blood this massacre abide,
Caus'd by those Villaines (curst alive and dead,)
That from the field the passed morning fled.

When as the King to Crowne this glorious day,
Now bids his Souldiers after all this toyle,
(No forces found that more might them dismay)
Of the dead French to take the gen'rall spoyle,
Whose heapes had well neere stopt up ev'ry way;
For ev'n as Clods they cov'red all the soyle,
Commanding none should any one controle,
Catch that catch might, but each man to his dole.

They fall to groping busily for gold,
Of which about them the slaine French had store,
They finde as much as well their hands can hold,
Who had but silver, him they counted poore,
Scarfes, Chaines, and Bracelets, were not to be told,
So rich as these no Souldiers were before;
Who got a Ring would scarsly put it on,
Except therein there were some Radiant stone.

Out of rich sutes the Noblest French they strip,
And leave their Bodies naked on the ground,
And each one fills his Knapsack or his Scrip;
With some rare thing that on the Field is found:
About his bus'nesse he doth nimbly skip,
That had upon him many a cruell wound:
And where they found a French not out-right slaine,
They him a prisoner constantly retaine.

Who scarse a Shirt had but the day before,
Nor a whole Stocking to keepe out the cold,
Hath a whole Wardrop (at command in store)
In the French fashion flaunting it in gold,
And in the Taverne, in his Cups doth rore,
Chocking his Crownes, and growes thereby so bold,
That proudly he a Captaines name assumes,
In his gilt Gorget with his tossing Plumes.

Waggons and Carts are laden till they crackt,
With Armes and Tents there taken in the Field;
For want of carridge on whose tops are packt,
Ensignes, Coat-Armours, Targets, Speares, and Shields:
Nor neede they convoy, fearing to be sackt;
For all the Country to King Henry yeelds,
And the poore Pesant helpes along to beare,
What late the goods of his proud Landlord were.

A Horse well furnisht for a present Warre:
For a French Crowne might any where be bought,
But if so be that he had any scarre,
Though ne'r so small, he valew'd was at naught;
With spoyles so sated the proud English are;
Amongst the slaine, that who for pillage sought,
Except some rich Caparizon he found,
For a steele Saddle would not stoupe to ground.

And many a hundred beaten downe that were,
Whose wounds were mortall, others wondrous deepe,
When as the English over-past they heare:
And no man left a Watch on them to keepe,
Into the Bushes, and the Ditches neare,
Upon their weake hands and their knees doe creepe:
But for their hurts tooke ayre, and were undrest,
They were found dead, and buried with the rest.

Thus when the King sawe that the Coast was clear'd,
And of the French who were not slaine were fled:
Nor in the Field not any then appear'd,
That had the power againe to make a head:
This Conquerour exceedingly is cheer'd,
Thanking his God that he so well had sped,
And so tow'rds Callice bravely marching on,
Leaveth sad France her losses to bemoane.

FINIS. The Battaile of Agincourt.