Chapter 5
They part their prisoners, passing them for debt, And in their Ransome ratibly accord To a Prince of ours, a Page of theirs they set; And a French Lacky to an English Lord; As for our Gentry them to hyre they'll let, And as good cheape as they can them afford, Branded for Slaues that if they hapt to stray, Knowne by the marke, them any one might slay.
[Stanza 147]
And cast to make a Chariot for the King, Painted with Antickes, and ridiculous toyes, In which they meane to Paris him to bring, To make sport to their Madames and their Boyes, And will haue Rascalls, Rymes of him to sing, Made in his mock'ry; and in all these ioyes, They bid the Bells to ring, and people crie, Before the Battaile, France and Victorie.
[Stanza 148]
And to the King and Daulphine sent away (Who at that time residing were in Roane) To be partakers of that glorious day: Wherein the English should be ouerthrowne, Lest that of them ensuing times should say, That for their safety they forsooke their owne: When France did that braue victory obtaine, That shall her lasting'st monument remaine.
[Stanza 149]
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.
[Stanza 150: _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.
[Stanza 151]
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.
[Stanza 152: _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 heapt On my transgressions, vp the Summe to make, For which thou may'st me vtterly forsake.
[Stanza 153: _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.
[Stanza 154]
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.
[Stanza 155]
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.
[Stanza 156]
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.
[Stanza 157: _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.
[Stanza 158]
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.
[Stanza 159: _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.
[Stanza 160]
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.
[Stanza 161]
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.
[Stanza 162: _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 deed On their owne mangled Carkases to feed.
[Stanza 163]
When soone the French preparing for the Field, Their armed troops are setting in array, Whose wondrous numbers they can hardly weeld, The place too little wherevpon they lay, They therefore to necessitie must yeeld, And into Order put them as they may, Whose motion sounded like to Nilus fall, That the vaste ayre was deafned therewithall.
[Stanza 164: _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 of Averney (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.
[Stanza 165]
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.
[Stanza 166]
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.
[Stanza 167: _The Marshalling of the English Army cotaining 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.
[Stanza 168]
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.
[Stanza 169: _The brauery of King Henryes owne person._]
In Warlike state the Royall Standard borne Before him, as in splendrous Armes he road, Whilst his coruetting Courser seem'd in scorne To touch the earth whereon he proudly troad, Lillyes, and Lyons quarterly adorne; His Shield, and his Caparison doe load: Vpon his Helme a Crowne with Diamonds deckt, Which through the Field their Radient fiers reflect.
[Stanza 170]
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.
[Stanza 171]
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.
[Stanza 172: _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.
[Stanza 173: _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 inspire Your soules with courage, straine vp all your powers, To make this day victoriously ours.
[Stanza 174]
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.
[Stanza 175]
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.
[Stanza 176: _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 Conuey That it for me no Ransome e'r shall rayse, Either I'le Conquer, or here end my dayes.
[Stanza 177]
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.
[Stanza 178]
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.
[Stanza 179]
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.
[Stanza 180: _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.
[Stanza 181: _Sir Thomas Erpingham gaue the Signall to the English._]
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.
[Stanza 182]
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.
[Stanza 183: _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 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.
[Stanza 184: _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.
[Stanza 185]
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.
[Stanza 186]
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.
[Stanza 187]
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.
[Stanza 188: _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.
[Stanza 189]
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.
[Stanza 190: _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.
[Stanza 191]
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.
[Stanza 192]
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.
[Stanza 193]
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.
[Stanza 194: _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.
[Stanza 195: _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 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.
[Stanza 196]
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 (quoth Dampeir) 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.
[Stanza 197: _The Admirall slaine._]
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.
[Stanza 198: _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 he could, Both horse and man is borne into the mayne, And from his friend not halfe a furlong slayne.
[Stanza 199]
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 into Cantels all that them withstood.
[Stanza 200]
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.
[Stanza 201]
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.
[Stanza 202]
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.
[Stanza 203: _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.
[Stanza 204]