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 ioynde to side,They strike downe all that stand within their way,And to direct them, haue 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.One braue exploit begetteth another.By their examples, each braue English blood,Vpon the Frenchmen for their Ensignes runne,Thick 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 shunneThat Noble Suffolke there is ouerthrowne,When he much valour sundry wayes hath showne.The Earle of Suffolke slaine.Which the proud English further doth prouoke,Who to destruction bodily were bent,That the maine Battaile instantly they broke,Vpon the French so furiously they wentAnd 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,With which the English fearefully them slue.The English kill the French with their owne weapons.Alanzon backe vpon the Reareward borne,By those vnarm’d that from the English fled,All further hopes then vtterly forlorne,His Noble heart in his full Bosome bled;What Fate, quoth he, our ouerthrowe 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 vpon 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,Vpon the Duke of Glocester doth light:Which on the youthfull Chiualry doth bring,Scarse two Pykes length that came before the King.The Duke of Glocester ouerthrowne by the Duke of Alanzon.Their Staues both strongly riuetted with steele,At the first stroke each other they astound,That as they staggering from each other reele;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 saueAnd to this braue Duke, a fresh on-set gaue.When as themselues like Thunderbolts they shot,One at the other, and the Lightning brakeOut of their Helmets, and againe was not,E’r of their strokes, the eare a sound could takeBetwixt 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 themselues must fight.The King of England in danger to be slaine, by the Duke of Alanzon.Vpon the King Alanzon prest so sore,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.Alanzon beaten downe by the King of England.But Henry soone Alanzons Ire to quit,(As now his valour lay vpon the Rack)Vpon the face the Duke so strongly hit,As in his Saddle layde him on his back,And once perceiuing that he had him split,Follow’d his blowes, redoubling thwack on thwack:Till he had lost his Stirups, and his headHung where his Horse was like thereon to tread.The King killeth two Gentlemen that aduenture to rescue the Duke.When soone two other seconding their Lord,His kind Companions in this glorious prize,Hoping againe the Duke to haue 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 heRecouering 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 saue him putting all his might,Yet the rude Souldiers, with their showt and crie,Quite drown’d his voyce, his Helmet being shut,And, that braue Duke into small peeces cut.The Duke of Alanzon slaine.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 vtterly had lost,Who slowly fled before, now ranne amayne.Nor could a man be found, but that dispairesSeeing the Fate both of themselues and theirs.The Duke Neuers taken prisoner.The Duke Neuers, now in this sad retreat,By Dauid Gam and Morisby persude,(Who throughly chaf’d, neere melted into sweat,And with French blood their Poleaxes imbrud)They sease vpon him following the defeate,Amongst the faint, and fearefull multitude;When a contention fell betweene them twaine,To whom the Duke should rightfully pertaine.Morisby and Gam at contention for the Duke of Neuers.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 Morrisby, 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 haue, he may goe free.Morisby a braue young Knight.Dauid Gam oft mentioned in this Poem.With that couragious Morrisby grew hot,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,To bend his Axe vpon him doth begin:He his at him, till the Lord Beamount cameTheir 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 vs fast enough deuoure:But that your braues the Army must dismay:If ought but good befell vs in this howre:This be you sure your lyues 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 cometh in with the Reare.Now Excester with his vntaynted ReareCame on, which long had labour’d to come in:And with the Kings mayne Battell vp doth beare;Who still kept off, till the last houre had bin:He cryes and clamours eu’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 ouer-wrought,Nor had beene spurr’d on by a second ayde:For his owne safety, then more fiercely fought,Hoping the tempest somewhat had been layde:And he thereby (though suff’ring the defeate,)Might keep 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 lyues 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)Vpon the French preuailing 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.The Earle of Vandome slaine.That this French Earle is beaten on the Field,His fighting Souldiers round about him slaine;And when himselfe a Prisoner he would yeeld,And beg’d for life, it was but all in vaine;Their Bills the English doe so easely weeldTo 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 longHad through the Battaile waded eu’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.Sir Thomas Erpingham getteth in with his three hundred Archers.Till olde Sir Thomas Erpingham at last,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 eu’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 heau’n that day to the braue 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.The Marshall of France slaine.His Horse sore wounded whilst he went aside,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 heauy, 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.The Duke of Brabant a most couragious Prince.When Vadamount now in the Conflict mett,With valient Brabant, whose high valour showneThat day, did many a blunted Courage whett,Else long before that from the Field had flowne,Quoth Vadamount, see how we are besett,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 neuer turne the head,Quoth the braue Duke, vntill their hatefull breathForsake their Bodies, and so farre haue 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 crauesThe dreadfull curse of your owne Mother earth,Hardning her breast, not to allow you graues,Be she so much ashamed of your birth;May he be curst that one of you but saues,And be in France hereafter such a dearthOf Courage, that men from their wits it feare,A Drumme, or Trumpet when they hap to heare.Anthony Duke of Brabant, sonne to the Duke of Burgundy.From Burgundy brought I the force I had,To fight for them, that ten from one doe flye;It splits my breast, O that I could be mad;To vexe these Slaues who would not dare to dye:In all this Army is there not a Lad,Th’ignoble French for Cowards that dare crye:If scarse one found, then let me be that one,The English Army that oppos’d alone.The valiant Duke of Brabant slaine.This said, he puts his Horse vpon 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 hauing acted many a Knight-like deed,Him and his Horse they all to peeces hewe:Yet he that day more lasting glory wan,Except Alanzon then did any man.Many of the French in their flight get into an old Fort.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)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.The Kings slight answer.An aged Rampire, with huge Ruines heapt,Which seru’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 braue King, first let the field be swept,And with the rest we well enough shall deale;Which though some heard, and so shut vp their eare,Yet relish’d not with many Souldiers there.Some that themselues 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 oneWould put himselfe this great exployt vpon.Woodhouse ieereth at the attempt.Which Woodhouse hearing meerily thus spake,(One that right well knew, both his worth and wit)A dangerous thing it is to vndertakeA Fort, where Souldiers be defending it,Perhaps they sleepe, and if they should awake,With stones, or with their shafts they may vs hitt,And in our Conquest whilst so well we fare,It were meere folly, but I see none dare.Braues passe between Gam and Woodhouse.Which Gam o’r hearing (being neere at hand)Not dare quoth he, and angerly doth frowne,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 resolued man may doeThings, that thy thoughts, yet neuer 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 brauely 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 vp with me,Where soone the King our Courages shall see.Agreed quoth Gam, and vp their Troopes they call,Hand ouer 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, vpon each other vye,By Armes their manhood desperatly to try.Captaine Gam slaine.For this seruice done by Woodhouse, there was an addition of honour giuen him: which was a hand holding a Club: with thewordFrappe Fort, which is born by the Family of the Woodhouse of Norfolke, to this day.To clime the Fort the Light-Arm’d English striue,And some by Trees there growing to ascend;The French with Flints let at the English driue,Themselues with Shields the Englishmen defend,And faine the Fort downe with their hands would riue:Thus either side their vtmost power extend,Till valiant Gam sore wounded, drawne asideBy his owne Souldiers, shortly after dy’de.Then take they vp 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,Vntil the French their massacre that feare,Of the fierce English, a cessation craue,Offring to yeeld, so they their liues would saue.Lewis of Burbon in the furious heatOf this great Battaile, hauing 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 vpon his valour lay,Fearing lest he might vndergoe some shame,That were vnworthy of the Burbon name.Hath gathered vp some scattred Troopes of Horse,That in the Field stood doubtfull what to doe;Though with much toyle, which he doth reinforceWith 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 notThe greatest fame that euer Souldiers gott.A deuise of Burbons to giue encouragement to the French.And being wise, so Burbon to beguileThe French, (preparing instantly to fly)Procures a Souldier, by a secret wileTo come in swiftly and to craue 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 leaue him on the Field.When Arthur Earle of Richmount comming in,With the right wing that long staid out of sight,Hauing 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 vp with him, and puts on as fast,Brauely resolu’d to fight it to the last.And both encourag’d by the newes was braughtOf the ariuing of the Daulphins power;Whose speedy Van, their Reare had almost raught,(From Agincourt discouer’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 they yet stood their victory to boast.A simily of the French.And one they come, as doth a rowling tide,Forc’d by a winde, that shoues it forth so fast,Till it choke vp 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 amazed 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 Stoue their stifned sinewes warmes,To act as brauely as they did before;And the proud French as stoutly to oppose,Scorning to yeeld one foot despight of blowes.The fight is fearefull, for stout Burbon bringsHis fresher forces on with such a shocke,That they were like to cut the Archers stringsE’re they their Arrowes hansomly couldnockThe French like Engines that were made with springs:Themselues so fast into the English lock,That th’one was like the other downe to beare,In wanting roomth to strike, they stoode so neare.Still staggering long they from each other reel’d,Glad that themselues they so could disingage:And falling back vpon 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 Armours fall,Here a sleft shoulder, there a clouen scull,There hang his eyes out beaten with a mall,Vntill the edges of their Bills growe dull,Vpon each other they so spend their gall,Wilde showtes and clamors all the ayre doe fill,The French crytue, and the English kill.The Duke of Barre in this vaste spoyle by chance;With the Lord Saint-Iohn on the Field doth meete,Towards whom that braue Duke doth himselfe aduance,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 saue their lyues if any way they could:But as the French the Duke away would lift,Vpon his Armes the English taking hould,(Men of that sort, that thought vpon their thrift)Knowing his Ransome dearely would be sould:Dragge him away in spight of their defence,Which to their Quarter would haue borne him thence.Lewes of Burbon taken prisoner by a meane Souldier.Meane while braue Burbon from his stirring Horse,Gall’d with an Arrow to the earth is throwne;By a meane Souldier seased on by force,Hoping to haue him certainly his owne,Which this Lord holdeth better so then worse:Since the French fortune to that ebbe is growne,And he perceiues the Souldier him doth deeme,To be a person of no meane esteeme.Berckley and Burnell, two braue English Lords,Flesht with French blood, and in their Valours pride,Aboue their Arm’d heads brandishing their swords,As they tryumphing through the Army ride,Finding what prizes Fortune here affordsTo eu’ry Souldier, and more wistly eydeThis gallant prisoner, by his Arming see,Of the great Burbon family to be.Lewes of Burbon stabd by the Souldier that took him prisoner.And from the Souldier they his Prisoner take,Of which the French Lord seemeth wondrous faineThereby his safety more secure to make:Which when the Souldier findes his hopes in vaine,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’aue his Ransome, they should take it there.When Rosse and Morley making in amaine,Bring the Lord Darcy vp with them along,Whose Horse had lately vnder 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 euery Charge which else came vp so round,As that except the passage put them by,The French as well might leaue their Armes and flye.Vpon 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 haue 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 Sauesses taken prisoners.When so it hapt that Dampier in the Van,Meetes with stout Darcy, but whilst him he prest,Ouer and ouer commeth horse and man,Of whom the other soone himselfe possest:When as Sauesses vpon Darcy ranTo ayde Dampier, but as he him adrest;A Halbert taking hold vpon his Greaues,Him from his Saddle violently heaues.When soone fiue hundred Englishmen at Armes,That to the French had giuen many a chase;And when they couered all the Field with swarmes;Yet oft that day had brauely bid thembase:Now at the last by raising fresh Alarmes;And comming vp with an vnusuall pace,Made them to knowe, that they must runne or yeeld,Neuer till now the English had the Field.Arthur Earl of Richmount taken prisoner.The Count du Marle slaine.Where Arthur Earle of Richmount beaten downe,Is left (suppos’d of eu’ry one for dead)But afterwards awaking from his swoone,By some that found him, was recouered:So Count Du Marle was likewise ouerthrowne:As he was turning meaning to haue 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 vpon the way:Or when they might a present perill shunne,They rush vpon 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 vpon 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 deiected French must suffer all;Flight, cords, and slaughter, are the onely three,To which themselues subiected they doe see.The misery of the French.A shoolesse Souldier there a man might meete,Leading his Mounsier by the armes fast bound:Another, his had shackled by the feete;Who like a Cripple shuffled on the ground;Another three or foure before him beete,Like harmefull Chattell driuen to a pound;They must abide it, so the Victor will,Who at his pleasure may, or saue, or kill.That braue French Gallant, when the fight began,Who 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 slaue,Who the last day his Almes was like to craue.The French forced to beare the wounded English on their backs.And those few English wounded in the fight,They force the French to bring with them away,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.A crew of rascall French rifle the King of Englands Tents.The Captaines of this Rascall cowardly Route,Were Isambert of Agincourt at hand,Riflant ofClunasseaDorpethere about,And for the Chiefe in this their base command,Was Robinett ofBurnivile; throughoutThe Countrie knowne, all order to withstand,These with fiue hundred Peasants they had rais’dThe English Tents, vpon 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 hauing rifled euery 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.The French prisoners more in number then the English Souldiers.For that his Souldiers tyred in the fight,Their Prisoners more in number then they were,He thought it for a thing of too much weight,T’oppose freshe forces, and to guard 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 inflameAnd in his rage he instantly commands,That euery English should his prisoner kill,Except some fewe in some great Captaines handsWhose Ransomes might his emptyed Cofers fill,Alls one whose loose, or who is nowe in bonds,Both must one way, it is the Conquerers will.Those who late thought, small Ransoms them might freeSaw onely death their Ransomes now must be.The English kill their prisoners.Expostulation.Accursed French, and could it not suffize,That ye but now bath’d in your natiue gore;But yee must thus infortunately rise,To drawe more plagues vpon yee then before,And gainst your selfe more mischeife to diuise,Then th’English could haue, and set wide the dore.To vtter ruine, and to make an endOf that your selues, which others would not spend.Their vtmost 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 vnbent,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,To draw their kniues once more your throats to cutt.The French cause of their own massechre.A discriptyon of the Massachre in the foure following stanzas.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,Agreed with him both of the some and day,Nowe findes his flesh must be the present foode,For wolues and Rauens, 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 haue,Some one, that day who did much valour showe,Who might perhaps haue had him for his Slaue:But equall Lots had Fate pleas’d to bestowe:He who his prisoner willingly would saue,Lastly constrain’d to giue the deadly bloweThat sends him downe to euerlasting sleepe:Turning his face, full bitterly doth weepe.Ten thousand French that inwardly were well,Saue some light hurts that any man might heale:Euen 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 reueale,The desperate cause of this disastrous hap,That euen as Thunder kill’d them with a clap.How happy were those in the very hight,Of this great Battaile, that had brauely 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 aliue 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 vp eu’ry way;For eu’n as Clods they cou’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 siluer, 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 leaue 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 vpon 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 Tauerne, 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 conuoy, 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.
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 ioynde to side,They strike downe all that stand within their way,And to direct them, haue 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.
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 ioynde to side,
They strike downe all that stand within their way,
And to direct them, haue 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.
One braue exploit begetteth another.
By their examples, each braue English blood,Vpon the Frenchmen for their Ensignes runne,Thick 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 shunneThat Noble Suffolke there is ouerthrowne,When he much valour sundry wayes hath showne.
By their examples, each braue English blood,
Vpon the Frenchmen for their Ensignes runne,
Thick 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 ouerthrowne,
When he much valour sundry wayes hath showne.
The Earle of Suffolke slaine.
Which the proud English further doth prouoke,Who to destruction bodily were bent,That the maine Battaile instantly they broke,Vpon the French so furiously they wentAnd 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,With which the English fearefully them slue.
Which the proud English further doth prouoke,
Who to destruction bodily were bent,
That the maine Battaile instantly they broke,
Vpon 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,
With which the English fearefully them slue.
The English kill the French with their owne weapons.
Alanzon backe vpon the Reareward borne,By those vnarm’d that from the English fled,All further hopes then vtterly forlorne,His Noble heart in his full Bosome bled;What Fate, quoth he, our ouerthrowe 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.
Alanzon backe vpon the Reareward borne,
By those vnarm’d that from the English fled,
All further hopes then vtterly forlorne,
His Noble heart in his full Bosome bled;
What Fate, quoth he, our ouerthrowe 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 vpon 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,Vpon the Duke of Glocester doth light:Which on the youthfull Chiualry doth bring,Scarse two Pykes length that came before the King.
And puts his Horse vpon 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,
Vpon the Duke of Glocester doth light:
Which on the youthfull Chiualry doth bring,
Scarse two Pykes length that came before the King.
The Duke of Glocester ouerthrowne by the Duke of Alanzon.
Their Staues both strongly riuetted with steele,At the first stroke each other they astound,That as they staggering from each other reele;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 saueAnd to this braue Duke, a fresh on-set gaue.
Their Staues both strongly riuetted with steele,
At the first stroke each other they astound,
That as they staggering from each other reele;
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 saue
And to this braue Duke, a fresh on-set gaue.
When as themselues like Thunderbolts they shot,One at the other, and the Lightning brakeOut of their Helmets, and againe was not,E’r of their strokes, the eare a sound could takeBetwixt 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 themselues must fight.
When as themselues 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 themselues must fight.
The King of England in danger to be slaine, by the Duke of Alanzon.
Vpon the King Alanzon prest so sore,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.
Vpon the King Alanzon prest so sore,
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.
Alanzon beaten downe by the King of England.
But Henry soone Alanzons Ire to quit,(As now his valour lay vpon the Rack)Vpon the face the Duke so strongly hit,As in his Saddle layde him on his back,And once perceiuing that he had him split,Follow’d his blowes, redoubling thwack on thwack:Till he had lost his Stirups, and his headHung where his Horse was like thereon to tread.
But Henry soone Alanzons Ire to quit,
(As now his valour lay vpon the Rack)
Vpon the face the Duke so strongly hit,
As in his Saddle layde him on his back,
And once perceiuing 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.
The King killeth two Gentlemen that aduenture to rescue the Duke.
When soone two other seconding their Lord,His kind Companions in this glorious prize,Hoping againe the Duke to haue 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 heRecouering was their ayde againe to be.
When soone two other seconding their Lord,
His kind Companions in this glorious prize,
Hoping againe the Duke to haue 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
Recouering 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 saue him putting all his might,Yet the rude Souldiers, with their showt and crie,Quite drown’d his voyce, his Helmet being shut,And, that braue Duke into small peeces cut.
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 saue him putting all his might,
Yet the rude Souldiers, with their showt and crie,
Quite drown’d his voyce, his Helmet being shut,
And, that braue Duke into small peeces cut.
The Duke of Alanzon slaine.
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 vtterly had lost,Who slowly fled before, now ranne amayne.Nor could a man be found, but that dispairesSeeing the Fate both of themselues and theirs.
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 vtterly had lost,
Who slowly fled before, now ranne amayne.
Nor could a man be found, but that dispaires
Seeing the Fate both of themselues and theirs.
The Duke Neuers taken prisoner.
The Duke Neuers, now in this sad retreat,By Dauid Gam and Morisby persude,(Who throughly chaf’d, neere melted into sweat,And with French blood their Poleaxes imbrud)They sease vpon him following the defeate,Amongst the faint, and fearefull multitude;When a contention fell betweene them twaine,To whom the Duke should rightfully pertaine.
The Duke Neuers, now in this sad retreat,
By Dauid Gam and Morisby persude,
(Who throughly chaf’d, neere melted into sweat,
And with French blood their Poleaxes imbrud)
They sease vpon him following the defeate,
Amongst the faint, and fearefull multitude;
When a contention fell betweene them twaine,
To whom the Duke should rightfully pertaine.
Morisby and Gam at contention for the Duke of Neuers.
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 Morrisby, 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 haue, he may goe free.
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 Morrisby, 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 haue, he may goe free.
Morisby a braue young Knight.
Dauid Gam oft mentioned in this Poem.
With that couragious Morrisby grew hot,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,To bend his Axe vpon him doth begin:He his at him, till the Lord Beamount cameTheir rash attempt, and wisely thus doth blame.
With that couragious Morrisby grew hot,
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,
To bend his Axe vpon 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 vs fast enough deuoure:But that your braues the Army must dismay:If ought but good befell vs in this howre:This be you sure your lyues for it must pay:Then first the end of this dayes Battaile see,And then decide whose prisoner he shall be.
Are not the French twice trebl’d to our power,
And fighting still, nay, doubtfull yet the day:
Thinke you not these vs fast enough deuoure:
But that your braues the Army must dismay:
If ought but good befell vs in this howre:
This be you sure your lyues 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 cometh in with the Reare.
Now Excester with his vntaynted ReareCame on, which long had labour’d to come in:And with the Kings mayne Battell vp doth beare;Who still kept off, till the last houre had bin:He cryes and clamours eu’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.
Now Excester with his vntaynted Reare
Came on, which long had labour’d to come in:
And with the Kings mayne Battell vp doth beare;
Who still kept off, till the last houre had bin:
He cryes and clamours eu’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 ouer-wrought,Nor had beene spurr’d on by a second ayde:For his owne safety, then more fiercely fought,Hoping the tempest somewhat had been layde:And he thereby (though suff’ring the defeate,)Might keep his Reareward whole in his Retreate.
The Earle of Vandom certainly that thought,
The English fury somewhat had beene stayde:
Weary with slaughter as men ouer-wrought,
Nor had beene spurr’d on by a second ayde:
For his owne safety, then more fiercely fought,
Hoping the tempest somewhat had been layde:
And he thereby (though suff’ring the defeate,)
Might keep 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 lyues 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.
On whom the Duke of Excester then fell,
Reare with the Reare now for their Valours vy,
Ours finde the French their lyues 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)Vpon the French preuailing 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.
But the sterne English with such luck and might,
(As though the Fates had sworne to take their parts)
Vpon the French preuailing 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.
The Earle of Vandome slaine.
That this French Earle is beaten on the Field,His fighting Souldiers round about him slaine;And when himselfe a Prisoner he would yeeld,And beg’d for life, it was but all in vaine;Their Bills the English doe so easely weeldTo 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.
That this French Earle is beaten on the Field,
His fighting Souldiers round about him slaine;
And when himselfe a Prisoner he would yeeld,
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 longHad through the Battaile waded eu’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.
When now the Marshall Boucequalt, which long
Had through the Battaile waded eu’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.
Sir Thomas Erpingham getteth in with his three hundred Archers.
Till olde Sir Thomas Erpingham at last,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.
Till olde Sir Thomas Erpingham at last,
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 eu’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 heau’n that day to the braue 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.
The soyle with slaughter eu’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 heau’n that day to the braue 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.
The Marshall of France slaine.
His Horse sore wounded whilst he went aside,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.
His Horse sore wounded whilst he went aside,
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 heauy, 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.
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 heauy, 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.
The Duke of Brabant a most couragious Prince.
When Vadamount now in the Conflict mett,With valient Brabant, whose high valour showneThat day, did many a blunted Courage whett,Else long before that from the Field had flowne,Quoth Vadamount, see how we are besett,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.
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,
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 neuer turne the head,Quoth the braue Duke, vntill their hatefull breathForsake their Bodies, and so farre haue 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.
Why, let them runne and neuer turne the head,
Quoth the braue Duke, vntill their hatefull breath
Forsake their Bodies, and so farre haue 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 crauesThe dreadfull curse of your owne Mother earth,Hardning her breast, not to allow you graues,Be she so much ashamed of your birth;May he be curst that one of you but saues,And be in France hereafter such a dearthOf Courage, that men from their wits it feare,A Drumme, or Trumpet when they hap to heare.
Ignoble French, your fainting Cowardize craues
The dreadfull curse of your owne Mother earth,
Hardning her breast, not to allow you graues,
Be she so much ashamed of your birth;
May he be curst that one of you but saues,
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.
Anthony Duke of Brabant, sonne to the Duke of Burgundy.
From Burgundy brought I the force I had,To fight for them, that ten from one doe flye;It splits my breast, O that I could be mad;To vexe these Slaues who would not dare to dye:In all this Army is there not a Lad,Th’ignoble French for Cowards that dare crye:If scarse one found, then let me be that one,The English Army that oppos’d alone.
From Burgundy brought I the force I had,
To fight for them, that ten from one doe flye;
It splits my breast, O that I could be mad;
To vexe these Slaues who would not dare to dye:
In all this Army is there not a Lad,
Th’ignoble French for Cowards that dare crye:
If scarse one found, then let me be that one,
The English Army that oppos’d alone.
The valiant Duke of Brabant slaine.
This said, he puts his Horse vpon 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 hauing acted many a Knight-like deed,Him and his Horse they all to peeces hewe:Yet he that day more lasting glory wan,Except Alanzon then did any man.
This said, he puts his Horse vpon 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 hauing acted many a Knight-like deed,
Him and his Horse they all to peeces hewe:
Yet he that day more lasting glory wan,
Except Alanzon then did any man.
Many of the French in their flight get into an old Fort.
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)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.
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)
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.
The Kings slight answer.
An aged Rampire, with huge Ruines heapt,Which seru’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 braue King, first let the field be swept,And with the rest we well enough shall deale;Which though some heard, and so shut vp their eare,Yet relish’d not with many Souldiers there.
An aged Rampire, with huge Ruines heapt,
Which seru’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 braue King, first let the field be swept,
And with the rest we well enough shall deale;
Which though some heard, and so shut vp their eare,
Yet relish’d not with many Souldiers there.
Some that themselues 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 oneWould put himselfe this great exployt vpon.
Some that themselues 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 vpon.
Woodhouse ieereth at the attempt.
Which Woodhouse hearing meerily thus spake,(One that right well knew, both his worth and wit)A dangerous thing it is to vndertakeA Fort, where Souldiers be defending it,Perhaps they sleepe, and if they should awake,With stones, or with their shafts they may vs hitt,And in our Conquest whilst so well we fare,It were meere folly, but I see none dare.
Which Woodhouse hearing meerily thus spake,
(One that right well knew, both his worth and wit)
A dangerous thing it is to vndertake
A Fort, where Souldiers be defending it,
Perhaps they sleepe, and if they should awake,
With stones, or with their shafts they may vs hitt,
And in our Conquest whilst so well we fare,
It were meere folly, but I see none dare.
Braues passe between Gam and Woodhouse.
Which Gam o’r hearing (being neere at hand)Not dare quoth he, and angerly doth frowne,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 resolued man may doeThings, that thy thoughts, yet neuer mounted to.
Which Gam o’r hearing (being neere at hand)
Not dare quoth he, and angerly doth frowne,
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 resolued man may doe
Things, that thy thoughts, yet neuer 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 brauely 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 vp with me,Where soone the King our Courages shall see.
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 brauely 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 vp with me,
Where soone the King our Courages shall see.
Agreed quoth Gam, and vp their Troopes they call,Hand ouer 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, vpon each other vye,By Armes their manhood desperatly to try.
Agreed quoth Gam, and vp their Troopes they call,
Hand ouer 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, vpon each other vye,
By Armes their manhood desperatly to try.
Captaine Gam slaine.
For this seruice done by Woodhouse, there was an addition of honour giuen him: which was a hand holding a Club: with thewordFrappe Fort, which is born by the Family of the Woodhouse of Norfolke, to this day.
To clime the Fort the Light-Arm’d English striue,And some by Trees there growing to ascend;The French with Flints let at the English driue,Themselues with Shields the Englishmen defend,And faine the Fort downe with their hands would riue:Thus either side their vtmost power extend,Till valiant Gam sore wounded, drawne asideBy his owne Souldiers, shortly after dy’de.
To clime the Fort the Light-Arm’d English striue,
And some by Trees there growing to ascend;
The French with Flints let at the English driue,
Themselues with Shields the Englishmen defend,
And faine the Fort downe with their hands would riue:
Thus either side their vtmost power extend,
Till valiant Gam sore wounded, drawne aside
By his owne Souldiers, shortly after dy’de.
Then take they vp 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,Vntil the French their massacre that feare,Of the fierce English, a cessation craue,Offring to yeeld, so they their liues would saue.
Then take they vp 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,
Vntil the French their massacre that feare,
Of the fierce English, a cessation craue,
Offring to yeeld, so they their liues would saue.
Lewis of Burbon in the furious heatOf this great Battaile, hauing 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 vpon his valour lay,Fearing lest he might vndergoe some shame,That were vnworthy of the Burbon name.
Lewis of Burbon in the furious heat
Of this great Battaile, hauing 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 vpon his valour lay,
Fearing lest he might vndergoe some shame,
That were vnworthy of the Burbon name.
Hath gathered vp some scattred Troopes of Horse,That in the Field stood doubtfull what to doe;Though with much toyle, which he doth reinforceWith 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 notThe greatest fame that euer Souldiers gott.
Hath gathered vp 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 euer Souldiers gott.
A deuise of Burbons to giue encouragement to the French.
And being wise, so Burbon to beguileThe French, (preparing instantly to fly)Procures a Souldier, by a secret wileTo come in swiftly and to craue 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 leaue him on the Field.
And being wise, so Burbon to beguile
The French, (preparing instantly to fly)
Procures a Souldier, by a secret wile
To come in swiftly and to craue 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 leaue him on the Field.
When Arthur Earle of Richmount comming in,With the right wing that long staid out of sight,Hauing 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 vp with him, and puts on as fast,Brauely resolu’d to fight it to the last.
When Arthur Earle of Richmount comming in,
With the right wing that long staid out of sight,
Hauing 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 vp with him, and puts on as fast,
Brauely resolu’d to fight it to the last.
And both encourag’d by the newes was braughtOf the ariuing of the Daulphins power;Whose speedy Van, their Reare had almost raught,(From Agincourt discouer’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 they yet stood their victory to boast.
And both encourag’d by the newes was braught
Of the ariuing of the Daulphins power;
Whose speedy Van, their Reare had almost raught,
(From Agincourt discouer’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 they yet stood their victory to boast.
A simily of the French.
And one they come, as doth a rowling tide,Forc’d by a winde, that shoues it forth so fast,Till it choke vp 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 amazed at their hast,That should they faile to route them at their will,Yet of their blood, the fields should drinke their fill.
And one they come, as doth a rowling tide,
Forc’d by a winde, that shoues it forth so fast,
Till it choke vp 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 amazed 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 Stoue their stifned sinewes warmes,To act as brauely as they did before;And the proud French as stoutly to oppose,Scorning to yeeld one foot despight of blowes.
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 Stoue their stifned sinewes warmes,
To act as brauely as they did before;
And the proud French as stoutly to oppose,
Scorning to yeeld one foot despight of blowes.
The fight is fearefull, for stout Burbon bringsHis fresher forces on with such a shocke,That they were like to cut the Archers stringsE’re they their Arrowes hansomly couldnockThe French like Engines that were made with springs:Themselues so fast into the English lock,That th’one was like the other downe to beare,In wanting roomth to strike, they stoode so neare.
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 couldnock
The French like Engines that were made with springs:
Themselues so fast into the English lock,
That th’one was like the other downe to beare,
In wanting roomth to strike, they stoode so neare.
Still staggering long they from each other reel’d,Glad that themselues they so could disingage:And falling back vpon 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.
Still staggering long they from each other reel’d,
Glad that themselues they so could disingage:
And falling back vpon 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 Armours fall,Here a sleft shoulder, there a clouen scull,There hang his eyes out beaten with a mall,Vntill the edges of their Bills growe dull,Vpon each other they so spend their gall,Wilde showtes and clamors all the ayre doe fill,The French crytue, and the English kill.
Slaughter is now desected to the full,
Here from their backs their batter’d Armours fall,
Here a sleft shoulder, there a clouen scull,
There hang his eyes out beaten with a mall,
Vntill the edges of their Bills growe dull,
Vpon each other they so spend their gall,
Wilde showtes and clamors all the ayre doe fill,
The French crytue, and the English kill.
The Duke of Barre in this vaste spoyle by chance;With the Lord Saint-Iohn on the Field doth meete,Towards whom that braue Duke doth himselfe aduance,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.
The Duke of Barre in this vaste spoyle by chance;
With the Lord Saint-Iohn on the Field doth meete,
Towards whom that braue Duke doth himselfe aduance,
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 saue their lyues if any way they could:But as the French the Duke away would lift,Vpon his Armes the English taking hould,(Men of that sort, that thought vpon their thrift)Knowing his Ransome dearely would be sould:Dragge him away in spight of their defence,Which to their Quarter would haue borne him thence.
Both againe rais’d, and both their Souldiers shift,
To saue their lyues if any way they could:
But as the French the Duke away would lift,
Vpon his Armes the English taking hould,
(Men of that sort, that thought vpon their thrift)
Knowing his Ransome dearely would be sould:
Dragge him away in spight of their defence,
Which to their Quarter would haue borne him thence.
Lewes of Burbon taken prisoner by a meane Souldier.
Meane while braue Burbon from his stirring Horse,Gall’d with an Arrow to the earth is throwne;By a meane Souldier seased on by force,Hoping to haue him certainly his owne,Which this Lord holdeth better so then worse:Since the French fortune to that ebbe is growne,And he perceiues the Souldier him doth deeme,To be a person of no meane esteeme.
Meane while braue Burbon from his stirring Horse,
Gall’d with an Arrow to the earth is throwne;
By a meane Souldier seased on by force,
Hoping to haue him certainly his owne,
Which this Lord holdeth better so then worse:
Since the French fortune to that ebbe is growne,
And he perceiues the Souldier him doth deeme,
To be a person of no meane esteeme.
Berckley and Burnell, two braue English Lords,Flesht with French blood, and in their Valours pride,Aboue their Arm’d heads brandishing their swords,As they tryumphing through the Army ride,Finding what prizes Fortune here affordsTo eu’ry Souldier, and more wistly eydeThis gallant prisoner, by his Arming see,Of the great Burbon family to be.
Berckley and Burnell, two braue English Lords,
Flesht with French blood, and in their Valours pride,
Aboue their Arm’d heads brandishing their swords,
As they tryumphing through the Army ride,
Finding what prizes Fortune here affords
To eu’ry Souldier, and more wistly eyde
This gallant prisoner, by his Arming see,
Of the great Burbon family to be.
Lewes of Burbon stabd by the Souldier that took him prisoner.
And from the Souldier they his Prisoner take,Of which the French Lord seemeth wondrous faineThereby his safety more secure to make:Which when the Souldier findes his hopes in vaine,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’aue his Ransome, they should take it there.
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,
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’aue his Ransome, they should take it there.
When Rosse and Morley making in amaine,Bring the Lord Darcy vp with them along,Whose Horse had lately vnder 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.
When Rosse and Morley making in amaine,
Bring the Lord Darcy vp with them along,
Whose Horse had lately vnder 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 euery Charge which else came vp so round,As that except the passage put them by,The French as well might leaue their Armes and flye.
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 euery Charge which else came vp so round,
As that except the passage put them by,
The French as well might leaue their Armes and flye.
Vpon 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 haue 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.
Vpon 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 haue 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 Sauesses taken prisoners.
When so it hapt that Dampier in the Van,Meetes with stout Darcy, but whilst him he prest,Ouer and ouer commeth horse and man,Of whom the other soone himselfe possest:When as Sauesses vpon Darcy ranTo ayde Dampier, but as he him adrest;A Halbert taking hold vpon his Greaues,Him from his Saddle violently heaues.
When so it hapt that Dampier in the Van,
Meetes with stout Darcy, but whilst him he prest,
Ouer and ouer commeth horse and man,
Of whom the other soone himselfe possest:
When as Sauesses vpon Darcy ran
To ayde Dampier, but as he him adrest;
A Halbert taking hold vpon his Greaues,
Him from his Saddle violently heaues.
When soone fiue hundred Englishmen at Armes,That to the French had giuen many a chase;And when they couered all the Field with swarmes;Yet oft that day had brauely bid thembase:Now at the last by raising fresh Alarmes;And comming vp with an vnusuall pace,Made them to knowe, that they must runne or yeeld,Neuer till now the English had the Field.
When soone fiue hundred Englishmen at Armes,
That to the French had giuen many a chase;
And when they couered all the Field with swarmes;
Yet oft that day had brauely bid thembase:
Now at the last by raising fresh Alarmes;
And comming vp with an vnusuall pace,
Made them to knowe, that they must runne or yeeld,
Neuer till now the English had the Field.
Arthur Earl of Richmount taken prisoner.
The Count du Marle slaine.
Where Arthur Earle of Richmount beaten downe,Is left (suppos’d of eu’ry one for dead)But afterwards awaking from his swoone,By some that found him, was recouered:So Count Du Marle was likewise ouerthrowne:As he was turning meaning to haue fled,Who fights, the colde blade in his bosome feeles,Who flyes, still heares it whisking at his heeles.
Where Arthur Earle of Richmount beaten downe,
Is left (suppos’d of eu’ry one for dead)
But afterwards awaking from his swoone,
By some that found him, was recouered:
So Count Du Marle was likewise ouerthrowne:
As he was turning meaning to haue 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 vpon the way:Or when they might a present perill shunne,They rush vpon it by their much dismay,That from the English should they safely flye,Of their owne very feare, yet they should dye.
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 vpon the way:
Or when they might a present perill shunne,
They rush vpon 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 vpon 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 deiected French must suffer all;Flight, cords, and slaughter, are the onely three,To which themselues subiected they doe see.
Some they take prisoners, other some they kill,
As they affect those vpon 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 deiected French must suffer all;
Flight, cords, and slaughter, are the onely three,
To which themselues subiected they doe see.
The misery of the French.
A shoolesse Souldier there a man might meete,Leading his Mounsier by the armes fast bound:Another, his had shackled by the feete;Who like a Cripple shuffled on the ground;Another three or foure before him beete,Like harmefull Chattell driuen to a pound;They must abide it, so the Victor will,Who at his pleasure may, or saue, or kill.
A shoolesse Souldier there a man might meete,
Leading his Mounsier by the armes fast bound:
Another, his had shackled by the feete;
Who like a Cripple shuffled on the ground;
Another three or foure before him beete,
Like harmefull Chattell driuen to a pound;
They must abide it, so the Victor will,
Who at his pleasure may, or saue, or kill.
That braue French Gallant, when the fight began,Who 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 slaue,Who the last day his Almes was like to craue.
That braue French Gallant, when the fight began,
Who 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 slaue,
Who the last day his Almes was like to craue.
The French forced to beare the wounded English on their backs.
And those few English wounded in the fight,They force the French to bring with them away,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.
And those few English wounded in the fight,
They force the French to bring with them away,
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.
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.
A crew of rascall French rifle the King of Englands Tents.
The Captaines of this Rascall cowardly Route,Were Isambert of Agincourt at hand,Riflant ofClunasseaDorpethere about,And for the Chiefe in this their base command,Was Robinett ofBurnivile; throughoutThe Countrie knowne, all order to withstand,These with fiue hundred Peasants they had rais’dThe English Tents, vpon an instant seas’d.
The Captaines of this Rascall cowardly Route,
Were Isambert of Agincourt at hand,
Riflant ofClunasseaDorpethere about,
And for the Chiefe in this their base command,
Was Robinett ofBurnivile; throughout
The Countrie knowne, all order to withstand,
These with fiue hundred Peasants they had rais’d
The English Tents, vpon 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 hauing rifled euery 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 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 hauing rifled euery 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.
The French prisoners more in number then the English Souldiers.
For that his Souldiers tyred in the fight,Their Prisoners more in number then they were,He thought it for a thing of too much weight,T’oppose freshe forces, and to guard 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
For that his Souldiers tyred in the fight,
Their Prisoners more in number then they were,
He thought it for a thing of too much weight,
T’oppose freshe forces, and to guard 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 euery English should his prisoner kill,Except some fewe in some great Captaines handsWhose Ransomes might his emptyed Cofers fill,Alls one whose loose, or who is nowe in bonds,Both must one way, it is the Conquerers will.Those who late thought, small Ransoms them might freeSaw onely death their Ransomes now must be.
And in his rage he instantly commands,
That euery 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,
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.
The English kill their prisoners.
Expostulation.
Accursed French, and could it not suffize,That ye but now bath’d in your natiue gore;But yee must thus infortunately rise,To drawe more plagues vpon yee then before,And gainst your selfe more mischeife to diuise,Then th’English could haue, and set wide the dore.To vtter ruine, and to make an endOf that your selues, which others would not spend.
Accursed French, and could it not suffize,
That ye but now bath’d in your natiue gore;
But yee must thus infortunately rise,
To drawe more plagues vpon yee then before,
And gainst your selfe more mischeife to diuise,
Then th’English could haue, and set wide the dore.
To vtter ruine, and to make an end
Of that your selues, which others would not spend.
Their vtmost 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 vnbent,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,To draw their kniues once more your throats to cutt.
Their vtmost 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 vnbent,
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,
To draw their kniues once more your throats to cutt.
The French cause of their own massechre.
A discriptyon of the Massachre in the foure following stanzas.
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,Agreed with him both of the some and day,Nowe findes his flesh must be the present foode,For wolues and Rauens, for the same that stay.And sees his blood on th’others sword to flowe,E’r his quicke sense could aprehend the blowe.
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,
Agreed with him both of the some and day,
Nowe findes his flesh must be the present foode,
For wolues and Rauens, 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.
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 haue,Some one, that day who did much valour showe,Who might perhaps haue had him for his Slaue:But equall Lots had Fate pleas’d to bestowe:He who his prisoner willingly would saue,Lastly constrain’d to giue the deadly bloweThat sends him downe to euerlasting sleepe:Turning his face, full bitterly doth weepe.
That tender heart whose chance it was to haue,
Some one, that day who did much valour showe,
Who might perhaps haue had him for his Slaue:
But equall Lots had Fate pleas’d to bestowe:
He who his prisoner willingly would saue,
Lastly constrain’d to giue the deadly blowe
That sends him downe to euerlasting sleepe:
Turning his face, full bitterly doth weepe.
Ten thousand French that inwardly were well,Saue some light hurts that any man might heale:Euen 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 reueale,The desperate cause of this disastrous hap,That euen as Thunder kill’d them with a clap.
Ten thousand French that inwardly were well,
Saue some light hurts that any man might heale:
Euen 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 reueale,
The desperate cause of this disastrous hap,
That euen as Thunder kill’d them with a clap.
How happy were those in the very hight,Of this great Battaile, that had brauely 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 aliue and dead,)That from the field the passed morning fled.
How happy were those in the very hight,
Of this great Battaile, that had brauely 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 aliue 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 vp eu’ry way;For eu’n as Clods they cou’red all the soyle,Commanding none should any one controle,Catch that catch might, but each man to his dole.
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 vp eu’ry way;
For eu’n as Clods they cou’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 siluer, 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.
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 siluer, 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 leaue 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 vpon him many a cruell wound:And where they found a French not out-right slaine,They him a prisoner constantly retaine.
Out of rich sutes the Noblest French they strip,
And leaue 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 vpon 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 Tauerne, 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.
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 Tauerne, 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 conuoy, 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.
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 conuoy, 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.