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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 ma.s.sechre._]

[_A discriptyon of the Ma.s.sachre 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 ma.s.sacre abide, Caus'd by those Villaines (curst aliue and dead,) That from the field the pa.s.sed 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 n.o.blest 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 sca.r.s.e 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 a.s.sumes, 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 G.o.d 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.

Poiters and Cressy tell, When moste their pride did swell, Vnder our swords they fell: Ne lesse our skill is, Then when our grandsyre greate, Claiming the regall seate, In many a warlike feate Lop'd the French lillies.