Chapter 7
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.
[Stanza 262: _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.
[Stanza 263]
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.
[Stanza 264: _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 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.
[Stanza 265: _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 doe Things, that thy thoughts, yet neuer mounted to.
[Stanza 266]
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.
[Stanza 267]
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.
[Stanza 268: _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 the word _Frappe 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 aside By his owne Souldiers, shortly after dy'de.
[Stanza 269]
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.
[Stanza 270]
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.
[Stanza 271]
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.
[Stanza 272: _A deuise of Burbons to giue encouragement to the French._]
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.
[Stanza 273]
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.
[Stanza 274]
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.
[Stanza 275: _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.
[Stanza 276]
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.
[Stanza 277]
The fight is fearefull, for stout Burbon brings His fresher forces on with such a shocke, That they were like to cut the Archers strings E're they their Arrowes hansomly could nock The French like Engines that were made with springs: 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.
[Stanza 278]
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.
[Stanza 279]
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 cry _tue_, and the English kill.
[Stanza 280]
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.
[Stanza 281]
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.
[Stanza 282: _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.
[Stanza 283]
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.
[Stanza 284: _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 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.
[Stanza 285]
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.
[Stanza 286]
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.
[Stanza 287]
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.
[Stanza 288: _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 ran To ayde Dampier, but as he him adrest; A Halbert taking hold vpon his Greaues, Him from his Saddle violently heaues.
[Stanza 289]
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 them base: 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.
[Stanza 290: _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.
[Stanza 291]
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.
[Stanza 292]
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.
[Stanza 293: _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.
[Stanza 294]
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.
[Stanza 295: _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.
[Stanza 296]
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.
[Stanza 297: _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 of Clunasse a Dorpe there about, And for the Chiefe in this their base command, Was Robinett of Burnivile; throughout The Countrie knowne, all order to withstand, These with fiue hundred Peasants they had rais'd The English Tents, vpon an instant seas'd.
[Stanza 298]
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.
[Stanza 299: _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
[Stanza 300]
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.
[Stanza 301: _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 end Of that your selues, which others would not spend.
[Stanza 302]
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.
[Stanza 303: _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.
[Stanza 304]
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.
[Stanza 305]
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.
[Stanza 306]
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.
[Stanza 307]
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.
[Stanza 308]
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.
[Stanza 309]
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.
[Stanza 310]
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.
[Stanza 311]
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.
[Stanza 312]
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.
[Stanza 313]
A Horse well furnisht for a present Warre: For a French Crowne might any where be bought, But if so be that he had any scarre, Though ne'r so small, he valew'd was at naught; With spoyles so sated the proud English are; Amongst the slaine, that who for pillage sought, Except some rich Caparizon he found, For a steele Saddle would not stoupe to ground.
[Stanza 314]
And many a hundred beaten downe that were, Whose wounds were mortall, others wondrous deepe, When as the English ouer-past they heare: And no man left a Watch on them to keepe, Into the Bushes, and the Ditches neare, Vpon their weake hands and their knees doe creepe: But for their hurts tooke ayre, and were vndrest, They were found dead, and buried with the rest.
[Stanza 315]
Thus when the King sawe that the Coast was clear'd, And of the French who were not slaine were fled: Nor in the Field not any then appear'd, That had the power againe to make a head: This Conquerour exceedingly is cheer'd, Thanking his God that he so well had sped, And so tow'rds Callice brauely marching on, Leaueth sad France her losses to bemoane.
FINIS.
TO MY FRINDS THE CAMBER- BRITANS AND THEYR HARP.
TO MY FRINDS THE CAMBER-BRITANS AND THEYR HARP.
Fayre stood the winde for France, When we our sailes aduance, Nor now to proue our chance Longer not tarry, But put vnto the mayne: At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his warlike trayne Landed King Harry.
And taking many a forte, Furnish'd in warlike sorte, Comming toward Agincourte (In happy houre) Skermishing day by day With those oppose his way, Whereas the Genrall laye With all his powre.
Which in his height of pride, As Henry to deride, His ransome to prouide Vnto him sending; Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vyle, Yet with an angry smile Their fall portending.
And turning to his men, Quoth famous Henry then, Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed: Yet haue we well begun; Battailes so brauely wonne Euermore to the sonne By fame are raysed.
And for my selfe, (quoth hee) This my full rest shall bee, England nere mourne for me, Nor more esteeme me: Victor I will remaine, Or on this earth be slaine; Neuer shall she sustaine Losse to redeeme me.