Chapter 4

The poore distressed Englishmen the whiles,Not dar’d by doubt, and lesse appaul’d with dreadOf 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 Riueted:Some pointing Stakes to stick into the ground,To guard the Bow-men, and their Horse to wound.The Ryot in the French Campe the night before the Battell.The night fore-running this most dreadfull day:The French that all to iollity encline:Some fall to dancing, some againe to play: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 themselues repose,With thanks to God, doe take that small repastWhich that poore Village willingly bestowes:And hauing 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.Pondering in his thoughts, his Fathers comming to the Crowne by deposing the rightfull King.In his Pauillion Princely Henry lay’d,Whilst all his Army round about him slept,His restlesse head vpon 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 heaptOn my transgressions, vp the Summe to make,For which thou may’st me vtterly forsake.Henry the fift caused the body of King Richard to be taken vp, 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 vs alone deriue not thou his fall,Whose odious life caus’d his vntimely end,That by our Almes be expiated all:Let not that sinne on me his Sonne desend,When as his body I translated haue,And buried in an honourable Graue.These things thus pondring, sorrow-ceasing sleepe,From cares to rescue his much troubled minde,Vpon his Eye-lids stealingly doth creepe,And in soft slumbers euery sense doth binde,(As vndisturbed euery one to keepe)When as that Angell to whom God assign’d,The guiding of the English, gliding downeThe silent Campe doth with fresh courage crowne.His glittering wings he gloriously displaies,Ouer the Hoste as euery way it lyesWith golden Dreames their trauell, and repaies,This Herault from the Rector of the skies,In Vision warnes them not to vse 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 restThemselues 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.The great care of a wise and politike Captaine.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 braue King couragious Henry goes,An hower before that it was fully light,To see if there might any place be found,To giue his Hoste aduantage 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 vpon 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 euer charge his Vanguard home.This Stratagem the ouerthrow of the French.And of three hundred Archers maketh choice,Some to be taken out of euery Band,The strongest Bowmen, by the generall voyce,Such as beside were valient of their hand,And to be so imployed, as would reioyce,Appointing them behinde the hedge to stand,To shrowde themselues from sight, and to be mute,Vntill a signall freely bad them shute.The gamesome Larke now got vpon her Wing,As twere the English earely to awake,And to wide heauen 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 themselues so long,Till flocks of Rauens them with noyse awake,Ouer 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.The French mis-interpret the flight of Rauens houering ouer their owne Campe.That this diuyning Foule well vnderstood,Vpon that place much gore was to be spill’d,And as those Birds doe much delight in blood,With humane flesh would haue their gorges fill’d,So waited they vpon their Swords for food,To feast vpon the English being kill’d,Then little thinking that these came in deedOn 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 littlewherevponthey 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 Marshalling of the French Army, containing three stanzas.The Constable, and Admirall of France,With the grand Marshall, men of great command:The Dukes of Burbon, and of Orleance,Some for their place, some for their birth-right stand,The Daulphine ofAverney(to aduanceHis worth and honour) of a puissant hand:The Earle of Ewe in Warre that had beene bred,These mighty men the mighty Vanward led.The mayne brought forward by the Duke of Barre,Neuers, 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 leaue the Right wing to be guided there:Lewes of Burbon, second yet to none,Led on the left; with him that mighty PeereThe Earle of Vandome, who of all her menLarge France entytled, her great Master then.The Marshalling of the English Army cõtaining fiue stanzas.The Duke of Yorke the English Vanward guides,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 Beamount 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 affrightThis 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 brau’ry dight:As to the English boades succesfull luckBefore one stroke, on either side was struck.The brauery of King Henryes owne person.In Warlike state the Royall Standard borneBefore him, as in splendrous Armes he road,Whilsthis coruetting Courserseem’d in scorneTo touch the earth whereon he proudly troad,Lillyes, and Lyons quarterly adorne;His Shield, and his Caparison doe load:Vpon 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 thenThe Reare; on which their second succours lay:Which were the youth, most of the Noblest blood,Vnder the Ensignes of their names that stood.Then of the stakes he doth the care commend,To certaine troupes that actiue were and strong,Onely diuis’d the Archers to defend,Pointed with Iron and of fiue foote long;To be remou’d still which way they should bend,Where the French Horse should thick’st vpon them throngWhich when the Host to charge each other went,Show’d his great wit that first did them inuent.The scornfull message of the French to the King of England.The Kings answer to the French.Both Armies sit, and at the point to fight,The French themselues assuring of the day;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 Constables Oration to the French.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,Thus speakes: Braue friends now for your Grandsires sakes,Your Country, Honours, or what may inspireYour soules with courage, straine vp all your powers,To make this day victoriously ours.Forward stout French, your valours and aduance,By taking vengeance for our Fathers slaine,And strongly fixe the Diadem of France,Which to this day vnsteady 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 liue 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 vpon the iustnesse 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 iawes,And let report to England this ConueyThat it for me no Ransome e’r shall rayse,Either I’le Conquer, or here end my dayes.It were no glory for vs to subdueThem, then our number, were the French no more;When in one Battaile twice our Fathers slue,Three times so many as themselues before,But to doe something that were strange and new:Wherefore (I aske you) Came we to this shore;Vpon 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 haue his Ransome freely as his owne:Now English lyes our Honour at the stake,And now or neuer 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 menAt home in England, with them present were;The King makes answere instantly agen,I would not haue one man more then is here:If we subdue, lesse should our praise be then:If ouercome, lesse losse shall England beare:And to our numbers we should giue that deede,Which must from Gods owne powerfull hand proceede.The high valour of the King of England.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 vp to the glorious skyes;Then from the earth as though they did rebound,Actiue as fire immediatly they rise:And such a shrill showt from their throats they sent,As made the French to stagger as they went.Sir Thomas Erpingham gaue the Signall to the English.Wherewith they stopt, when Erpingham which ledThe Armie, sawe, the showt had made them stand,Wafting his Warder thrice about his head,He cast it vp with his auspicious hand,Which was the signall through the English spread,That they should Charge: which as a dread commandMade 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 vpon;Which with more feruour made their rage to glowe,So much disgrace that they had vnder-gone.Which to amend with Ensignes let at large,Vpon the English furiously they Charge.A Simily of the French charging the English.At the full Moone looke how th’vnweldy Tide,Shou’d by some Tempest that from Sea doth riseAt the full height, against the ragged sideOf so me rough Cliffe (of a Gigantick sise)Foming with rage impetuously doth ride;The angry French (in no lesse furious wise)Of men at Armes vpon their ready Horse,Assayle the English to dispierce their force.The three hundred Archers layd in ambush, disorder the French men at Armes at the first encounter.When as those Archers there in Ambush layde,Hauing their Broad side as they came along,With their barb’d Arrowes the French Horses payde:And in their flankes like cruell Hornets stong: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,Vpon the English thinking them to Route,Their Horses runne vpon the Armed stakes,And being wounded, turne themselues 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 castWith their foure feete all vp into the ayre:Vnder 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 Iades, are trayled here and there:Entangled in their Bridles, one back drawes,And pluckes the Bit out of anothers iawes.With showers of Shafts yet still the English plyThe French so fast, vpon the point of flight:With the mayne Battell yet stood Henry by,Not all this while had medled in the Fight,Vpon 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.Two wings of French horse defeated.When soone De Linnies and Sureres hast,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 braue Sureres slaine.The King who sees how well his Vanguard sped,Sends his command that instantly it stay,Desiring Yorke so brauely that had led,To hold his Souldiers in their first array,For it the Conflict very much might sted,Somewhat to fall aside, and giue him way,Till full vp to him he might bring his power,And make the Conquest compleate in an hower.The English Vaward and maine Battaile charge the French both at once.Which Yorke obayes, and vp King Henry comes,When for his guidance he had got him roome.The dreadfull bellowing of whose strait-brac’d Drummes,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,Couering the earth with multitudes of men.Vpon 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 euery one exceedes,Where euery man, his fellow forward calls,And shows him where some great-born Frenchman bleedsWhilst 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 weightDoth kill another strucken downe before,As he againe so falling, likewise feelesHis last breath hastned by anothers heeles.And whilst the English eagerly pursueThe fearefull French before them still that fly,The points of Bills and Halbers they imbrueIn 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.Ears are damm’d vp with howles and hellish soundsOne fearefull noyse a fearefuller confounds.Charles de la Breth Constable of France.When the couragious Constable of France,Th’vnlucky 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 aduance,Once more vpon the Enemy make head:Neuer let France say, we were vanquisht so,With our backs basely turn’d vpon our Foe.The Admirall.Whom the Chattillyon hapned to accost,And seeing thus the Constable dismayde:Shift noble Lord (quoth he) the day is lost,If the whole world vpon the match were layde,I cannot thinke but that Black Edwards GhostAssists the English, and our Horse hath frayde;If not, some Diuels they haue with them then,That fight against vs in the shapes of men.Not I my Lord, the Constable replies:By my blest soule, the Field I will not quit:Whilst two braue Battailes are to bring supplies:Neither of which one stroke haue strucken yet:Nay (quothDampeir) I doe not this aduiseMore then your selfe, that I doe feare a whit:Spurre vp my Lord, then side to side with mee,And that I feare not, you shall quickly see.The Admirall slaine.They struck their Rowells to the bleeding sidesOf their fierce Steeds into the ayre that sprong:And as their fury at that instant guides:They thrust themselues into the murth’ring throng,Where such bad fortune those braue Lords betides:The Admirall from off his Horse was flong,For the sterne English downe before them beereAll that withstand, the Pesant and the Peere.The Constable slaine.Which when the noble Constable with griefe,Doth this great Lord vpon the ground behold;In his account so absolute a Chiefe,Whose death through France he knew would be condol’d,Like a braue Knight to yeeld his friend reliefe,Doing as much as possibly hecould,Both horse and man is borne into the mayne,And from his friend not halfe a furlong slayne.Now Willoughby vpon 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 intoCantelsall that them withstood.Yet whilst thus hotely they hold vp the ChaseVpon 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-vnfought-with Band:Of valiant Bill-men, Oxford with successe,Vp 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 lockOne in another, and come vp 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 receiuing many a wound,As they would showe, that they were none of those,That turn’d their backs so basely to their Foes.The courage of Woodhouse remarkable.Panting for breath, his Murrian in his hand,Woodhouse comes in as back the English beare,My Lords (quoth he) what now inforc’d to stand,When smiling Fortune off’reth vs so faire,The French lye yonder like to wreakes of sand,And you by this our glory but impaire:Or now, or neuer, your first Fight maintaine,Chatillyon and the Constable are slaine.Hand ouer head pell mell vpon them ronne,If you will proue the Masters of the day,Ferrers and Greystock haue so brauely done,That I enuie their glory, and dare say,From all the English, they the Gole haue 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 winges.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 vndertake;Neuer before were they so mad to fight,When valiant Fanhope thus the Lords bespake,Suffolke and Oxford as braue Earles you be,Once more beare vp with Willoughby and me.Why now, me think’st I heare braue Fanhope speake,Quoth noble Oxford, thou hast thy desire:These words of thine shall yan Battalion breake:And for my selfe I neuer will retire,Vntill our Teene vpon the French we wreake:Or in this our last enterprise expire:This spoke, their Gauntlets each doth other giue,And to the Charge as fast as they could driue.That slaughter seem’d to haue but stay’d for breath,To make the horrour to ensue the more:With hands besmear’d with blood, when meager DeathLooketh more grisly then he did before:So that each body seem’d but as a sheathTo 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 waues, how it doth come and goeForward and backward, so the crowds are borne,Or as the Edie turneth in the flowe:And aboue all the Bills and Axes play,As doe the Attoms in the Sunny ray.Now with mayne blowes their Armours are vnbras’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 gleaue neere cut off by the waste,Another runnes to ground with halfe a head:Another stumbling falleth in his flight,Wanting a legge, and on his face doth light.The Dukes who found their force thus ouerthrowne,And those fewe left them ready still to route,Hauing great skill, and no lesse courage showne;Yet of their safeties much began to doubt,For hauing fewe about them of their owne,And by the English so impal’d about,Saw that to some one they themselues must yeeld,Or else abide the fury of the field.The Duke of Burbon and Orleance taken prisoners.They put themselues on those victorious Lords,Who led the Vanguard with so good successe,Bespeaking them with honourable words,Themselues their prisoners freely and confesse,Who by the strength of their commanding swords,Could hardly saue them from the slaught’ring presse,By Suffolks ayde till they away were sent,Who with a Guard conuay’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 haue disord’red quight,So that those men at Armes goe all to wrackTwixt their owne friends, and those with whom they fight,Wherein disorder and destruction seem’dTo striue, which should the powerfullest be deem’d.Called of some Guiscard the Daulphine of Aragon.And whilst the Daulphine of Auerney cryes,Stay men at Armes, let Fortune doe her worst,And let that Villaine from the field that flyesBy Babes yet to be borne, be euer curst:All vnder heauen that we can hope for, lyesOn this dayes battell, let me be the firstThat turn’d yee back vpon your desperate Foes,To saue our Honours, though our lyues we lose.To whom comes in the Earle of Ewe, which longHad 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,Vpon the shoulder claps him, Prince quoth he,Since I mast fall, ô let me fall with thee.Scarse had he spoke, but th’English them inclose,And like to Mastiues fircely on them flew,Who with like Courage strongly them oppose,When the Lord Beamont, who their Armings knewe,Their present perill to braue Suffolke shewes,Quoth hee, Lo where Dauerny are and Ewe,In this small time, who since the Field begun,Haue done as much, as can by men be done.Now slaughter cease me, if I doe not greeue,Two so braue Spirits should be vntimely slaine,Lies there no way (my Lord) them to releeue,And for their Ransomes two such to retaine:Quoth Suffolke, come weele hazad their repreeue,And share our Fortunes, in they goe amaine,And with such danger through the presse they wade,As of their liues but small account they made.The Daulphin of Auerney slaine.The Earle of Ewe taken prisoner.Yet ere they through the clustred Crouds could get,Oft downe on those, trod there to death that lay,The valient Daulphin had discharg’d his debt,Then whom no man had brauelier seru’d that day.The Earle of Ewe, and wondrous hard beset:Had left all hope of life to scape away:Till noble Beamont and braue Suffolke came,And as their prisoner seas’d him by his name.Now the mayne Battaile of the French came on,The Vanward vanquisht, quite the Field doth flye,And other helpes besides this, haue they none:But that their hopes doe on their mayne relye,And therefore now it standeth them vpon,To fight it brauely, or else yeeld, or dye:For the fierce English charge so home and sore,As in their hands Ioues 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 wellneere beyond beleefe had done,Which of his Fortune, made him ouerweene,Himselfe so farre into the maine doth runne,So that the French which quickly got betweeneHim and his succours, that great Chiefetaine slue,Who brauely fought whilest any breath he drew.The King heareth of the Duke of Yorks death.The newes soone brought to this Couragious King,Orespred his face with a distempred Fire,Though making little shew of any thing,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 reuenged will I bee,Or ere one houre be past Ile follow thee.The Kings resolution.When as the frolike Caualry of France,That in the head of the maine Battaile came,Perceiu’d the King of England to aduance,To Charge in person; It doth them inflame,Each one well hoping it might be his chanceTo sease vpon him, which was all their ayme,Then with the brauest of the English mett,Themselues that there before the King had sett.The bloody scuffle betweene the French and English, at the Ioyning of the two mayne Battailes, in fiue Stanzas.When the Earle of Cornewal with vnusuall force,Encounters Grandpre (next that came to hand)In Strength his equall, blow for blow they scorce,Weelding their Axes as they had beene wands,Till the Earle tumbles Grandpre from his HorseOuer whom straight the Count Salines stands,And lendeth Cornwal such a blow withall,Ouer the Crupper that he makes him fall.Cornwal recouers, for his Armes were good,And to Salines maketh vp againe,Who changde such boysterous buffets, that the blood,Doth through the Ioints 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 breathTill Kent comes in, and rescues him from death.Kent vpon 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.Called Cluet of Brabant.Couragious Cluet grieued at the sightOf his friend Blamounts vnexpected fall,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 Louell ran,Whom next Count Moruyle chuseth as his man.Their Curates are vnriuetted 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,Ouer himselfe too wary to haue bin,And had neglected his fast plighted trothVpon the Field, the Battaile to begin,That where the one was, there they would be both;When the stout Earle of Huntingdon, to winTrust with his friends; doth this himselfe enlargeTo 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 haue not gone;But that I haue beene forced to be neareThe King, whose person I attend vpon,And that I doubt not but to make appeareNow, if occasion shall but call me on,Looke round about my Lord, if you can see,Some braue aduenture 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 vs, and I heare it say,Wher’s that couragious Englishman that darres,Aduenture, 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 haue it, sayst thou so indeed,Quoth Huntingdon, then Fortune be our speed.

The poore distressed Englishmen the whiles,Not dar’d by doubt, and lesse appaul’d with dreadOf 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 Riueted:Some pointing Stakes to stick into the ground,To guard the Bow-men, and their Horse to wound.

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 Riueted:

Some pointing Stakes to stick into the ground,

To guard the Bow-men, and their Horse to wound.

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

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

The French that all to iollity encline:

Some fall to dancing, some againe to play:

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 themselues repose,With thanks to God, doe take that small repastWhich that poore Village willingly bestowes:And hauing 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.

The wearied English watchfull o’r their Foes,

(The depth of night then drawing on so fast)

That fayne a little would themselues repose,

With thanks to God, doe take that small repast

Which that poore Village willingly bestowes:

And hauing 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.

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

In his Pauillion Princely Henry lay’d,Whilst all his Army round about him slept,His restlesse head vpon 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 heaptOn my transgressions, vp the Summe to make,For which thou may’st me vtterly forsake.

In his Pauillion Princely Henry lay’d,

Whilst all his Army round about him slept,

His restlesse head vpon 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, vp the Summe to make,

For which thou may’st me vtterly forsake.

Henry the fift caused the body of King Richard to be taken vp, 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 vs alone deriue not thou his fall,Whose odious life caus’d his vntimely end,That by our Almes be expiated all:Let not that sinne on me his Sonne desend,When as his body I translated haue,And buried in an honourable Graue.

King Richards wrongs, to minde, Lord doe not call,

Nor how for him my Father did offend,

From vs alone deriue not thou his fall,

Whose odious life caus’d his vntimely end,

That by our Almes be expiated all:

Let not that sinne on me his Sonne desend,

When as his body I translated haue,

And buried in an honourable Graue.

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

These things thus pondring, sorrow-ceasing sleepe,

From cares to rescue his much troubled minde,

Vpon his Eye-lids stealingly doth creepe,

And in soft slumbers euery sense doth binde,

(As vndisturbed euery 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,Ouer the Hoste as euery way it lyesWith golden Dreames their trauell, and repaies,This Herault from the Rector of the skies,In Vision warnes them not to vse delayes,But to the Battell cheerefully to rise,And be victorious, for that day at hand,He would amongst them for the English stand.

His glittering wings he gloriously displaies,

Ouer the Hoste as euery way it lyes

With golden Dreames their trauell, and repaies,

This Herault from the Rector of the skies,

In Vision warnes them not to vse 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 restThemselues 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.

The dawne scarse drewe the curtaines of the East,

But the late wearied Englishmen awake,

And much refreshed with a little rest

Themselues 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.

The great care of a wise and politike Captaine.

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 braue King couragious Henry goes,An hower before that it was fully light,To see if there might any place be found,To giue his Hoste aduantage by the ground.

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 braue King couragious Henry goes,

An hower before that it was fully light,

To see if there might any place be found,

To giue his Hoste aduantage 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 vpon 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 euer charge his Vanguard home.

Where twas his hap a Quicksett hedge to view,

Well growne in height; and for his purpose thin,

Yet by the Ditch vpon 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 euer charge his Vanguard home.

This Stratagem the ouerthrow of the French.

And of three hundred Archers maketh choice,Some to be taken out of euery Band,The strongest Bowmen, by the generall voyce,Such as beside were valient of their hand,And to be so imployed, as would reioyce,Appointing them behinde the hedge to stand,To shrowde themselues from sight, and to be mute,Vntill a signall freely bad them shute.

And of three hundred Archers maketh choice,

Some to be taken out of euery Band,

The strongest Bowmen, by the generall voyce,

Such as beside were valient of their hand,

And to be so imployed, as would reioyce,

Appointing them behinde the hedge to stand,

To shrowde themselues from sight, and to be mute,

Vntill a signall freely bad them shute.

The gamesome Larke now got vpon her Wing,As twere the English earely to awake,And to wide heauen 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 gamesome Larke now got vpon her Wing,

As twere the English earely to awake,

And to wide heauen 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 themselues so long,Till flocks of Rauens them with noyse awake,Ouer 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.

The lazie French their leisure seem to take,

And in their Cabins keepe themselues so long,

Till flocks of Rauens them with noyse awake,

Ouer 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.

The French mis-interpret the flight of Rauens houering ouer their owne Campe.

That this diuyning Foule well vnderstood,Vpon that place much gore was to be spill’d,And as those Birds doe much delight in blood,With humane flesh would haue their gorges fill’d,So waited they vpon their Swords for food,To feast vpon the English being kill’d,Then little thinking that these came in deedOn their owne mangled Carkases to feed.

That this diuyning Foule well vnderstood,

Vpon that place much gore was to be spill’d,

And as those Birds doe much delight in blood,

With humane flesh would haue their gorges fill’d,

So waited they vpon their Swords for food,

To feast vpon 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 littlewherevponthey 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.

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 littlewherevponthey 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 Marshalling of the French Army, containing three stanzas.

The Constable, and Admirall of France,With the grand Marshall, men of great command:The Dukes of Burbon, and of Orleance,Some for their place, some for their birth-right stand,The Daulphine ofAverney(to aduanceHis worth and honour) of a puissant hand:The Earle of Ewe in Warre that had beene bred,These mighty men the mighty Vanward led.

The Constable, and Admirall of France,

With the grand Marshall, men of great command:

The Dukes of Burbon, and of Orleance,

Some for their place, some for their birth-right stand,

The Daulphine ofAverney(to aduance

His worth and honour) of a puissant hand:

The Earle of Ewe in Warre that had beene bred,

These mighty men the mighty Vanward led.

The mayne brought forward by the Duke of Barre,Neuers, 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 mayne brought forward by the Duke of Barre,

Neuers, 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 leaue the Right wing to be guided there:Lewes of Burbon, second yet to none,Led on the left; with him that mighty PeereThe Earle of Vandome, who of all her menLarge France entytled, her great Master then.

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 leaue 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 Marshalling of the English Army cõtaining fiue stanzas.

The Duke of Yorke the English Vanward guides,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 Beamount 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.

The Duke of Yorke the English Vanward guides,

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 Beamount 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 affrightThis 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 brau’ry dight:As to the English boades succesfull luckBefore one stroke, on either side was struck.

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 brau’ry dight:

As to the English boades succesfull luck

Before one stroke, on either side was struck.

The brauery of King Henryes owne person.

In Warlike state the Royall Standard borneBefore him, as in splendrous Armes he road,Whilsthis coruetting Courserseem’d in scorneTo touch the earth whereon he proudly troad,Lillyes, and Lyons quarterly adorne;His Shield, and his Caparison doe load:Vpon his Helme a Crowne with Diamonds deckt,Which through the Field their Radient fiers reflect.

In Warlike state the Royall Standard borne

Before him, as in splendrous Armes he road,

Whilsthis coruetting Courserseem’d in scorne

To touch the earth whereon he proudly troad,

Lillyes, and Lyons quarterly adorne;

His Shield, and his Caparison doe load:

Vpon 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 thenThe Reare; on which their second succours lay:Which were the youth, most of the Noblest blood,Vnder the Ensignes of their names that stood.

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,

Vnder the Ensignes of their names that stood.

Then of the stakes he doth the care commend,To certaine troupes that actiue were and strong,Onely diuis’d the Archers to defend,Pointed with Iron and of fiue foote long;To be remou’d still which way they should bend,Where the French Horse should thick’st vpon them throngWhich when the Host to charge each other went,Show’d his great wit that first did them inuent.

Then of the stakes he doth the care commend,

To certaine troupes that actiue were and strong,

Onely diuis’d the Archers to defend,

Pointed with Iron and of fiue foote long;

To be remou’d still which way they should bend,

Where the French Horse should thick’st vpon them throng

Which when the Host to charge each other went,

Show’d his great wit that first did them inuent.

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

The Kings answer to the French.

Both Armies sit, and at the point to fight,The French themselues assuring of the day;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.

Both Armies sit, and at the point to fight,

The French themselues assuring of the day;

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 Constables Oration to the French.

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

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,

Thus speakes: Braue friends now for your Grandsires sakes,

Your Country, Honours, or what may inspire

Your soules with courage, straine vp all your powers,

To make this day victoriously ours.

Forward stout French, your valours and aduance,By taking vengeance for our Fathers slaine,And strongly fixe the Diadem of France,Which to this day vnsteady 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.

Forward stout French, your valours and aduance,

By taking vengeance for our Fathers slaine,

And strongly fixe the Diadem of France,

Which to this day vnsteady 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 liue 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.

Let not one liue 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 vpon the iustnesse 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 iawes,And let report to England this ConueyThat it for me no Ransome e’r shall rayse,Either I’le Conquer, or here end my dayes.

Thinke but vpon the iustnesse 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 iawes,

And let report to England this Conuey

That it for me no Ransome e’r shall rayse,

Either I’le Conquer, or here end my dayes.

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

It were no glory for vs to subdue

Them, then our number, were the French no more;

When in one Battaile twice our Fathers slue,

Three times so many as themselues before,

But to doe something that were strange and new:

Wherefore (I aske you) Came we to this shore;

Vpon 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 haue his Ransome freely as his owne:Now English lyes our Honour at the stake,And now or neuer be our Valour showne:God and our Cause, Saint George for England stands,Now Charge them English, fortune guide your hands.

The meanest Souldier if in Fight he take,

The greatest Prince in yonder Army knowne,

Without controule shall him his prisoner make,

And haue his Ransome freely as his owne:

Now English lyes our Honour at the stake,

And now or neuer 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 menAt home in England, with them present were;The King makes answere instantly agen,I would not haue one man more then is here:If we subdue, lesse should our praise be then:If ouercome, lesse losse shall England beare:And to our numbers we should giue that deede,Which must from Gods owne powerfull hand proceede.

When hearing one wish all the valiant men

At home in England, with them present were;

The King makes answere instantly agen,

I would not haue one man more then is here:

If we subdue, lesse should our praise be then:

If ouercome, lesse losse shall England beare:

And to our numbers we should giue that deede,

Which must from Gods owne powerfull hand proceede.

The high valour of the King of England.

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 vp to the glorious skyes;Then from the earth as though they did rebound,Actiue as fire immediatly they rise:And such a shrill showt from their throats they sent,As made the French to stagger as they went.

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 vp to the glorious skyes;

Then from the earth as though they did rebound,

Actiue as fire immediatly they rise:

And such a shrill showt from their throats they sent,

As made the French to stagger as they went.

Sir Thomas Erpingham gaue the Signall to the English.

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

Wherewith they stopt, when Erpingham which led

The Armie, sawe, the showt had made them stand,

Wafting his Warder thrice about his head,

He cast it vp 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 vpon;Which with more feruour made their rage to glowe,So much disgrace that they had vnder-gone.Which to amend with Ensignes let at large,Vpon the English furiously they Charge.

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 vpon;

Which with more feruour made their rage to glowe,

So much disgrace that they had vnder-gone.

Which to amend with Ensignes let at large,

Vpon the English furiously they Charge.

A Simily of the French charging the English.

At the full Moone looke how th’vnweldy Tide,Shou’d by some Tempest that from Sea doth riseAt the full height, against the ragged sideOf so me rough Cliffe (of a Gigantick sise)Foming with rage impetuously doth ride;The angry French (in no lesse furious wise)Of men at Armes vpon their ready Horse,Assayle the English to dispierce their force.

At the full Moone looke how th’vnweldy Tide,

Shou’d by some Tempest that from Sea doth rise

At the full height, against the ragged side

Of so me rough Cliffe (of a Gigantick sise)

Foming with rage impetuously doth ride;

The angry French (in no lesse furious wise)

Of men at Armes vpon their ready Horse,

Assayle the English to dispierce their force.

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

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

When as those Archers there in Ambush layde,

Hauing their Broad side as they came along,

With their barb’d Arrowes the French Horses payde:

And in their flankes like cruell Hornets stong:

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,Vpon the English thinking them to Route,Their Horses runne vpon the Armed stakes,And being wounded, turne themselues 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.

And whilst the Front of the French Vanguard makes,

Vpon the English thinking them to Route,

Their Horses runne vpon the Armed stakes,

And being wounded, turne themselues 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 castWith their foure feete all vp into the ayre:Vnder 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 Iades, are trayled here and there:Entangled in their Bridles, one back drawes,And pluckes the Bit out of anothers iawes.

Tumbling on heapes, some of their Horses cast

With their foure feete all vp into the ayre:

Vnder 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 Iades, are trayled here and there:

Entangled in their Bridles, one back drawes,

And pluckes the Bit out of anothers iawes.

With showers of Shafts yet still the English plyThe French so fast, vpon the point of flight:With the mayne Battell yet stood Henry by,Not all this while had medled in the Fight,Vpon 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.

With showers of Shafts yet still the English ply

The French so fast, vpon the point of flight:

With the mayne Battell yet stood Henry by,

Not all this while had medled in the Fight,

Vpon 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.

Two wings of French horse defeated.

When soone De Linnies and Sureres hast,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 braue Sureres slaine.

When soone De Linnies and Sureres hast,

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 braue Sureres slaine.

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

The King who sees how well his Vanguard sped,

Sends his command that instantly it stay,

Desiring Yorke so brauely that had led,

To hold his Souldiers in their first array,

For it the Conflict very much might sted,

Somewhat to fall aside, and giue him way,

Till full vp to him he might bring his power,

And make the Conquest compleate in an hower.

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

Which Yorke obayes, and vp King Henry comes,When for his guidance he had got him roome.The dreadfull bellowing of whose strait-brac’d Drummes,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,Couering the earth with multitudes of men.

Which Yorke obayes, and vp King Henry comes,

When for his guidance he had got him roome.

The dreadfull bellowing of whose strait-brac’d Drummes,

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,

Couering the earth with multitudes of men.

Vpon 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 euery one exceedes,Where euery man, his fellow forward calls,And shows him where some great-born Frenchman bleedsWhilst Scalps about like broken pot sherds fly,And kill, kill, kill, the Conquering English cry.

Vpon 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 euery one exceedes,

Where euery man, his fellow forward calls,

And shows him where some great-born 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 weightDoth kill another strucken downe before,As he againe so falling, likewise feelesHis last breath hastned by anothers heeles.

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 pursueThe fearefull French before them still that fly,The points of Bills and Halbers they imbrueIn 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.Ears are damm’d vp with howles and hellish soundsOne fearefull noyse a fearefuller confounds.

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.

Ears are damm’d vp with howles and hellish sounds

One fearefull noyse a fearefuller confounds.

Charles de la Breth Constable of France.

When the couragious Constable of France,Th’vnlucky 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 aduance,Once more vpon the Enemy make head:Neuer let France say, we were vanquisht so,With our backs basely turn’d vpon our Foe.

When the couragious Constable of France,

Th’vnlucky 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 aduance,

Once more vpon the Enemy make head:

Neuer let France say, we were vanquisht so,

With our backs basely turn’d vpon our Foe.

The Admirall.

Whom the Chattillyon hapned to accost,And seeing thus the Constable dismayde:Shift noble Lord (quoth he) the day is lost,If the whole world vpon the match were layde,I cannot thinke but that Black Edwards GhostAssists the English, and our Horse hath frayde;If not, some Diuels they haue with them then,That fight against vs in the shapes of men.

Whom the Chattillyon hapned to accost,

And seeing thus the Constable dismayde:

Shift noble Lord (quoth he) the day is lost,

If the whole world vpon the match were layde,

I cannot thinke but that Black Edwards Ghost

Assists the English, and our Horse hath frayde;

If not, some Diuels they haue with them then,

That fight against vs in the shapes of men.

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

Not I my Lord, the Constable replies:

By my blest soule, the Field I will not quit:

Whilst two braue Battailes are to bring supplies:

Neither of which one stroke haue strucken yet:

Nay (quothDampeir) I doe not this aduise

More then your selfe, that I doe feare a whit:

Spurre vp my Lord, then side to side with mee,

And that I feare not, you shall quickly see.

The Admirall slaine.

They struck their Rowells to the bleeding sidesOf their fierce Steeds into the ayre that sprong:And as their fury at that instant guides:They thrust themselues into the murth’ring throng,Where such bad fortune those braue Lords betides:The Admirall from off his Horse was flong,For the sterne English downe before them beereAll that withstand, the Pesant and the Peere.

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 themselues into the murth’ring throng,

Where such bad fortune those braue Lords betides:

The Admirall from off his Horse was flong,

For the sterne English downe before them beere

All that withstand, the Pesant and the Peere.

The Constable slaine.

Which when the noble Constable with griefe,Doth this great Lord vpon the ground behold;In his account so absolute a Chiefe,Whose death through France he knew would be condol’d,Like a braue Knight to yeeld his friend reliefe,Doing as much as possibly hecould,Both horse and man is borne into the mayne,And from his friend not halfe a furlong slayne.

Which when the noble Constable with griefe,

Doth this great Lord vpon the ground behold;

In his account so absolute a Chiefe,

Whose death through France he knew would be condol’d,

Like a braue Knight to yeeld his friend reliefe,

Doing as much as possibly hecould,

Both horse and man is borne into the mayne,

And from his friend not halfe a furlong slayne.

Now Willoughby vpon 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 intoCantelsall that them withstood.

Now Willoughby vpon 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 intoCantelsall that them withstood.

Yet whilst thus hotely they hold vp the ChaseVpon 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-vnfought-with Band:Of valiant Bill-men, Oxford with successe,Vp with his Troupes doth with the other presse.

Yet whilst thus hotely they hold vp the Chase

Vpon 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-vnfought-with Band:

Of valiant Bill-men, Oxford with successe,

Vp 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.

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 lockOne in another, and come vp 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 receiuing many a wound,As they would showe, that they were none of those,That turn’d their backs so basely to their Foes.

Their men at Armes their Lances closely lock

One in another, and come vp 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 receiuing many a wound,

As they would showe, that they were none of those,

That turn’d their backs so basely to their Foes.

The courage of Woodhouse remarkable.

Panting for breath, his Murrian in his hand,Woodhouse comes in as back the English beare,My Lords (quoth he) what now inforc’d to stand,When smiling Fortune off’reth vs so faire,The French lye yonder like to wreakes of sand,And you by this our glory but impaire:Or now, or neuer, your first Fight maintaine,Chatillyon and the Constable are slaine.

Panting for breath, his Murrian in his hand,

Woodhouse comes in as back the English beare,

My Lords (quoth he) what now inforc’d to stand,

When smiling Fortune off’reth vs so faire,

The French lye yonder like to wreakes of sand,

And you by this our glory but impaire:

Or now, or neuer, your first Fight maintaine,

Chatillyon and the Constable are slaine.

Hand ouer head pell mell vpon them ronne,If you will proue the Masters of the day,Ferrers and Greystock haue so brauely done,That I enuie their glory, and dare say,From all the English, they the Gole haue 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 winges.

Hand ouer head pell mell vpon them ronne,

If you will proue the Masters of the day,

Ferrers and Greystock haue so brauely done,

That I enuie their glory, and dare say,

From all the English, they the Gole haue 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 winges.

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 vndertake;Neuer before were they so mad to fight,When valiant Fanhope thus the Lords bespake,Suffolke and Oxford as braue Earles you be,Once more beare vp with Willoughby and me.

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 vndertake;

Neuer before were they so mad to fight,

When valiant Fanhope thus the Lords bespake,

Suffolke and Oxford as braue Earles you be,

Once more beare vp with Willoughby and me.

Why now, me think’st I heare braue Fanhope speake,Quoth noble Oxford, thou hast thy desire:These words of thine shall yan Battalion breake:And for my selfe I neuer will retire,Vntill our Teene vpon the French we wreake:Or in this our last enterprise expire:This spoke, their Gauntlets each doth other giue,And to the Charge as fast as they could driue.

Why now, me think’st I heare braue Fanhope speake,

Quoth noble Oxford, thou hast thy desire:

These words of thine shall yan Battalion breake:

And for my selfe I neuer will retire,

Vntill our Teene vpon the French we wreake:

Or in this our last enterprise expire:

This spoke, their Gauntlets each doth other giue,

And to the Charge as fast as they could driue.

That slaughter seem’d to haue but stay’d for breath,To make the horrour to ensue the more:With hands besmear’d with blood, when meager DeathLooketh more grisly then he did before:So that each body seem’d but as a sheathTo 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.

That slaughter seem’d to haue 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 waues, how it doth come and goeForward and backward, so the crowds are borne,Or as the Edie turneth in the flowe:And aboue all the Bills and Axes play,As doe the Attoms in the Sunny ray.

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 waues, how it doth come and goe

Forward and backward, so the crowds are borne,

Or as the Edie turneth in the flowe:

And aboue all the Bills and Axes play,

As doe the Attoms in the Sunny ray.

Now with mayne blowes their Armours are vnbras’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 gleaue neere cut off by the waste,Another runnes to ground with halfe a head:Another stumbling falleth in his flight,Wanting a legge, and on his face doth light.

Now with mayne blowes their Armours are vnbras’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 gleaue neere cut off by the waste,

Another runnes to ground with halfe a head:

Another stumbling falleth in his flight,

Wanting a legge, and on his face doth light.

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

The Dukes who found their force thus ouerthrowne,

And those fewe left them ready still to route,

Hauing great skill, and no lesse courage showne;

Yet of their safeties much began to doubt,

For hauing fewe about them of their owne,

And by the English so impal’d about,

Saw that to some one they themselues must yeeld,

Or else abide the fury of the field.

The Duke of Burbon and Orleance taken prisoners.

They put themselues on those victorious Lords,Who led the Vanguard with so good successe,Bespeaking them with honourable words,Themselues their prisoners freely and confesse,Who by the strength of their commanding swords,Could hardly saue them from the slaught’ring presse,By Suffolks ayde till they away were sent,Who with a Guard conuay’d them to his Tent.

They put themselues on those victorious Lords,

Who led the Vanguard with so good successe,

Bespeaking them with honourable words,

Themselues their prisoners freely and confesse,

Who by the strength of their commanding swords,

Could hardly saue them from the slaught’ring presse,

By Suffolks ayde till they away were sent,

Who with a Guard conuay’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 haue disord’red quight,So that those men at Armes goe all to wrackTwixt their owne friends, and those with whom they fight,Wherein disorder and destruction seem’dTo striue, which should the powerfullest be deem’d.

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 haue 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 striue, which should the powerfullest be deem’d.

Called of some Guiscard the Daulphine of Aragon.

And whilst the Daulphine of Auerney cryes,Stay men at Armes, let Fortune doe her worst,And let that Villaine from the field that flyesBy Babes yet to be borne, be euer curst:All vnder heauen that we can hope for, lyesOn this dayes battell, let me be the firstThat turn’d yee back vpon your desperate Foes,To saue our Honours, though our lyues we lose.

And whilst the Daulphine of Auerney cryes,

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 euer curst:

All vnder heauen that we can hope for, lyes

On this dayes battell, let me be the first

That turn’d yee back vpon your desperate Foes,

To saue our Honours, though our lyues we lose.

To whom comes in the Earle of Ewe, which longHad 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,Vpon the shoulder claps him, Prince quoth he,Since I mast fall, ô let me fall with thee.

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,

Vpon the shoulder claps him, Prince quoth he,

Since I mast fall, ô let me fall with thee.

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

Scarse had he spoke, but th’English them inclose,

And like to Mastiues fircely on them flew,

Who with like Courage strongly them oppose,

When the Lord Beamont, who their Armings knewe,

Their present perill to braue Suffolke shewes,

Quoth hee, Lo where Dauerny are and Ewe,

In this small time, who since the Field begun,

Haue done as much, as can by men be done.

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

Now slaughter cease me, if I doe not greeue,

Two so braue Spirits should be vntimely slaine,

Lies there no way (my Lord) them to releeue,

And for their Ransomes two such to retaine:

Quoth Suffolke, come weele hazad their repreeue,

And share our Fortunes, in they goe amaine,

And with such danger through the presse they wade,

As of their liues but small account they made.

The Daulphin of Auerney slaine.

The Earle of Ewe taken prisoner.

Yet ere they through the clustred Crouds could get,Oft downe on those, trod there to death that lay,The valient Daulphin had discharg’d his debt,Then whom no man had brauelier seru’d that day.The Earle of Ewe, and wondrous hard beset:Had left all hope of life to scape away:Till noble Beamont and braue Suffolke came,And as their prisoner seas’d him by his name.

Yet ere they through the clustred Crouds could get,

Oft downe on those, trod there to death that lay,

The valient Daulphin had discharg’d his debt,

Then whom no man had brauelier seru’d that day.

The Earle of Ewe, and wondrous hard beset:

Had left all hope of life to scape away:

Till noble Beamont and braue Suffolke came,

And as their prisoner seas’d him by his name.

Now the mayne Battaile of the French came on,The Vanward vanquisht, quite the Field doth flye,And other helpes besides this, haue they none:But that their hopes doe on their mayne relye,And therefore now it standeth them vpon,To fight it brauely, or else yeeld, or dye:For the fierce English charge so home and sore,As in their hands Ioues thunderbolts they bore.

Now the mayne Battaile of the French came on,

The Vanward vanquisht, quite the Field doth flye,

And other helpes besides this, haue they none:

But that their hopes doe on their mayne relye,

And therefore now it standeth them vpon,

To fight it brauely, or else yeeld, or dye:

For the fierce English charge so home and sore,

As in their hands Ioues 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 wellneere beyond beleefe had done,Which of his Fortune, made him ouerweene,Himselfe so farre into the maine doth runne,So that the French which quickly got betweeneHim and his succours, that great Chiefetaine slue,Who brauely fought whilest any breath he drew.

The Duke of Yorke, who since the fight begun,

Still in the top of all his Troopes was seene,

And things wellneere beyond beleefe had done,

Which of his Fortune, made him ouerweene,

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 brauely fought whilest any breath he drew.

The King heareth of the Duke of Yorks death.

The newes soone brought to this Couragious King,Orespred his face with a distempred Fire,Though making little shew of any thing,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 reuenged will I bee,Or ere one houre be past Ile follow thee.

The newes soone brought to this Couragious King,

Orespred his face with a distempred Fire,

Though making little shew of any thing,

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 reuenged will I bee,

Or ere one houre be past Ile follow thee.

The Kings resolution.

When as the frolike Caualry of France,That in the head of the maine Battaile came,Perceiu’d the King of England to aduance,To Charge in person; It doth them inflame,Each one well hoping it might be his chanceTo sease vpon him, which was all their ayme,Then with the brauest of the English mett,Themselues that there before the King had sett.

When as the frolike Caualry of France,

That in the head of the maine Battaile came,

Perceiu’d the King of England to aduance,

To Charge in person; It doth them inflame,

Each one well hoping it might be his chance

To sease vpon him, which was all their ayme,

Then with the brauest of the English mett,

Themselues that there before the King had sett.

The bloody scuffle betweene the French and English, at the Ioyning of the two mayne Battailes, in fiue Stanzas.

When the Earle of Cornewal with vnusuall force,Encounters Grandpre (next that came to hand)In Strength his equall, blow for blow they scorce,Weelding their Axes as they had beene wands,Till the Earle tumbles Grandpre from his HorseOuer whom straight the Count Salines stands,And lendeth Cornwal such a blow withall,Ouer the Crupper that he makes him fall.

When the Earle of Cornewal with vnusuall force,

Encounters Grandpre (next that came to hand)

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

Ouer whom straight the Count Salines stands,

And lendeth Cornwal such a blow withall,

Ouer the Crupper that he makes him fall.

Cornwal recouers, for his Armes were good,And to Salines maketh vp againe,Who changde such boysterous buffets, that the blood,Doth through the Ioints 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 breathTill Kent comes in, and rescues him from death.

Cornwal recouers, for his Armes were good,

And to Salines maketh vp againe,

Who changde such boysterous buffets, that the blood,

Doth through the Ioints 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 vpon 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.

Kent vpon 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.

Called Cluet of Brabant.

Couragious Cluet grieued at the sightOf his friend Blamounts vnexpected fall,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 Louell ran,Whom next Count Moruyle chuseth as his man.

Couragious Cluet grieued at the sight

Of his friend Blamounts vnexpected fall,

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 Louell ran,

Whom next Count Moruyle chuseth as his man.

Their Curates are vnriuetted 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.

Their Curates are vnriuetted 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,Ouer himselfe too wary to haue bin,And had neglected his fast plighted trothVpon the Field, the Battaile to begin,That where the one was, there they would be both;When the stout Earle of Huntingdon, to winTrust with his friends; doth this himselfe enlargeTo this great Earle who dares him thus to charge.

When Suffolk chargeth Huntingdon with sloth,

Ouer himselfe too wary to haue bin,

And had neglected his fast plighted troth

Vpon 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 haue not gone;But that I haue beene forced to be neareThe King, whose person I attend vpon,And that I doubt not but to make appeareNow, if occasion shall but call me on,Looke round about my Lord, if you can see,Some braue aduenture worthy you and me.

My Lord (quoth he) it is not that I feare,

More then your selfe, that so I haue not gone;

But that I haue beene forced to be neare

The King, whose person I attend vpon,

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 braue aduenture 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 vs, and I heare it say,Wher’s that couragious Englishman that darres,Aduenture, 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 haue it, sayst thou so indeed,Quoth Huntingdon, then Fortune be our speed.

See yan proud Banner, of the Duke of Barres,

Me thinkst it wafts vs, and I heare it say,

Wher’s that couragious Englishman that darres,

Aduenture, 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 haue it, sayst thou so indeed,

Quoth Huntingdon, then Fortune be our speed.

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