Then take they up the bodies of the flain,
Which for their targets ours before them bear,
And with a fresh affault come on again;
Scarce in the field yet fuch a fight as there ;
Crofs bows and long bows at it are amain,
Until the French, their maffacre that fear,

Of the fierce English a ceflation crave,

That if with courage they would fight a while, It certain was the English all fhould die;

For that the king had offer'd them to yield, Finding his troops to leave him on the field.

When Arthur Earl of Richmount coming in
With the right wing, that long stay'd out of
fight,

Having too lately with the English been;
But finding Bourbon bent again to fight,
His former credit hoping yet to win
(Which at that inftant eafily he might)
Comes up clofe with him, and puts on as fast,
Bravely refolv'd to fight it to the last.

And both encourag'd by the news was brought
Of the arriving of the dauphin's power,
Whose speedy van their rear had almost raught
(From Agincourt discover'd from a tower)
Which with the Norman gallantry was fraught,
And on the fuddain coming like a fhower,

Would bring a deluge on the English host,
Whilft yet they stood their victory to boast.

And on they come, as doth a rolling tide
Forc'd by a wind, that fhoves it forth fo faft,
Till it choak up fome channel fide to fide,
And the craz'd banks doth down before it caft,
Hoping the English would not them abide,
Or would be fo amated at their haste,

That should they fail to rout them at their will, Yet of their blood the fields fhould drink their fill.

Lewis of Bourbon, in the furious heat

Of this great battle, having made fome stay,
Who with the left wing fuffer'd a defeat
In the beginning of this luckless day,
Finding the English forcing their retreat,
And that much hope upon his valour lay;

Fearing left he might undergo fome fhame,
That were unworthy of the Bourbon name,

Hath gather'd up some scatter'd troops of horse,
That in the field stood doubtful what to do.
Though with much toil, which he doth rein-
force

With fome small pow'r that he doth add thereto,
Proclaiming ftill the English had the worse;
And now at last, with him if they would go,
He dares affure them victory; if not,
The greatest fame that ever foldiers got.

And being wife, fo Bourbon to beguile
The French preparing inftantly to fly,
Procures a foldier, by a fecret wile,
To come in fwiftly, and to crave supply,

(a) For this fervice done by Woodhouse, there was an addition of honour given him; which was a hand holding a club, with the words Frappe Fort, which is born by the la mily of the Woodoute of Norfolk to this day.

To their firft ftrength do inftantly reflore,
And like a stove their stiffen'd finews warms
To act as bravely as they did before;

And the proud French as ftoutly to oppose,
Scorning to yield one foot defpight of blows.
The fight is fearful; for ftout Bourbon brings
His frefher forces on with fuch a fhock,
That they were like to cut the archers ftrings
E'er they their arrows handfomely could nock:
The French, like engines that were made with
Springs,

Themfelves fo faft into the English lock,

That th' one was like the other down to bear, In wanting room to ftrike, they flood fo near.

Till ftragg'ring long, they from each other reel'd,
Glad that themfelves they fo could difengage;
And falling back upon the fpacious field
(For this last scene that is the bloody stage)
Where they their weapons liberally could wield,
They with fuch madness execute their rage,
As though the former fury of the day,
To this encounter had but been a play.

Slaughter is now defected to the full:

Here from their backs their batter'd armours

fall;

Here a left shoulder, there a cloven skull;

There hang his eyes out beaten with a mall;
Until the edges of their bills grow dull,
Upon each other they so spend their gall.
Wild fhouts and clamours all the air do fill;
The French cry tuez, and the English kill.

The Duke of Barr, in this vaft spoil, by chance
With the Lord St. John on the field doth meet,
Tow'rds whom that brave duke doth himself ad-
vance,

Who with the like encounter him doth greet:
This English baron and this peer of France,
Grappling together, falling from their feet,

With the rude crouds had both to death been crush'd,

In for their fafety had their friends not rush'd.

Both again rais'd, and both their foldiers shift
To fave their lives, if any way they could;
But as the French the duke away would lift,
Upon his arms the English taking hold
(Men of that fort, that thought upon their thrift)
Knowing his ransom dearly would be sold,

Drag him away in spite of their defence, Which to their quarter would have born him thence.

They all together with a gen'ral hand Charge on the French, that they could find to ftand.

And yet but vainly, as the French suppos'd;
For th' Earl of Richmount forth fuch earth had
found,

That on two fides with quick fet was enclos'd
And the way to it by a rifing ground,
By which a while the English were oppos'd
At every charge; which elfe came up so round,
As that except the paffage put them by,
The French as well might leave their arms, and
fly.

Upon both parts it furiously is fought,
And with fuch quickness rifeth to that height,
That horror need no farther to be fought,
If only that might fatisfy the fight.

Who would have fame, full dearly here it bought,
For it was fold by measure and by weight;

And at one rate the price ftill certain ftood,
An ounce of honour cost a pound of blood.

horfe

Gall'd with an arrow, to the earth is thrown;
By a mean foldier feized on by force,
Hoping to have him certainly his own;
Which this Lord holdeth better fo than worse,
Since the French fortune to that ebb is grown;
And he perceives the foldier him doth deem
To be a perfon of no mean esteem.

Berkeley and Burnell, two brave English lords, Flush'd with French blood, and in their valour's pride,

Above their arm'd heads brandishing their swords
As they triumphing through the army ride,
Finding what prizes fortune here affords
To ev'ry foldier, and more wiftly ey'd

This gallant pris'ner; by this arming fee
Of the great Bourbon family to be;

And from the foldier they his pris'ner take,
Of which the French lord feemeth wond'rous
fain,

Thereby his fafety more fecure to make:
Which when the foldier finds his hopes in vain,
So rich a booty forced to forfake,
To put himself and pris'ner out of pain,

He on the fudden stabs him, and doth swear, Would th'ave his ranfom, they should take it there.

When Rofs and Morley making in amain, Bring the Lord Darcy up with them along, Whose horse had lately under him been slain, And they on foot found fighting in the throng, Those lords his friends remounting him again, Being a man that valiant was and strong;

When as Saveffes upon Darcy ran

To aid Dampier; but as he him address'd,
A halbert taking hold upon his greaves,
Him from his faddle violently heaves.

When foon five hundred English men at arms,
That to the French had given many a chace,
And when they cover'd all the field with swarms,
Yet oft that day had bravely bid them bafe;
Now at the last, by raising fresh alarms,
And coming up with an unusual pace,

Made them to know, that they muft run or yield;

Never till now the English had the field.

Where Arthur Earl of Richmount beaten down,
Is left (fuppos'd of ev'ry one) for dead;
But afterwards awaking from his swoon,
By fome that found him was recovered.
So Count Du Marle was likewise overthrown,
As he was turning, meaning to have fled.

Who fights, the cold blade in his bofom feels;
Who flies, ftill hears it whiffing at his heels.

Till all difrank'd, like filly fheep they run,
By threats nor pray'rs to be constrain'd to stay,
For that their hearts were fo extremely done,
That fainting, oft they fall upon the way;
Or when they might a prefent peril fhun,
They ruth upon it by their much dismay;
That from the English fhould they fafely flie,
Of their own very fear yet they should die.

Some they take pris'ners, other fome they kill,
As they affect thofe upon whom they fall;
For they, as victors, may do what they will,

A fhoolefs foldier there a man might meet
Leading his Monfieur by the arms faft bound;
Another his had fhackled by the feet,
Who like a cripple fhuffled on the ground;
Another, three or four before him beat
Like harmful cattle driven to a pound:
They must abide it, fo the victor will,
Who at his pleasure may or fave or kill.

That brave French gallant, when the fight began,
Whose leafe of lacqueys ambled by his fide,
Himfelf a lacquey now most basely ran,
Whilft a ragg'd foldier on his horfe doth ride;
That rafcal is no lefs than at his man,
Who was but lately to his luggage ty'd;

And the French lord now court'fies to that flave,
Who the last day his alms was like to crave.

And those few English wounded in the fight, They force the French to bring with them away, Who when they were depreffed with the weight, Yet dar'd not once their burden down to lay: Thofe in the morn whofe hopes were at their height,

Are fallen thus low e'er the departing day!

With picks of halberts prickt inftead of goads, Like tired horfes lab'ring with their loads.

But as the English from the field return,
Some of thofe French who when the fight began
Forfook their friends, and hoping yet to earn
Pardon, for that fo cowardly they ran,
Affay the English carriages to burn,
Which to defend them fcarcely had a man;

For that their keepers to the field were got;
To pick fuch spoils as chance fhould them allot.

The captains of this rafcal cow'rdly rout,
Were Ifambert of Agincourt, at hand;
Riflant of Clunafs, a dorp thereabout;
And for the chief in this their base command
Was Robinett of Burnivelle, throughout
The country known all order to withstand;
Thefe, with five hundred peasants they had rais'd,
The English tents upon an inftant feiz'd.

For fetting on those with the luggage left,
A few poor futtlers with the camp that went,
They bafely fell to pillage and to theft;
And having rifled every booth and tent,
Some of the fillieft they of life bereft;
The fear of which fome of the other fent
Into the army with their sudden cries,
Which put the King in fear of fresh fupplies.

For that his foldiers tired in the fight,
Their pris'ners more in number than they were,
He thought it for a thing of too much weight

T'oppose fresh forces, and to guard them there. The Dauphin's pow'rs yet standing in their fight, And Bourbon's forces of the field not clear;

Those yearning cries that from the carriage

came,

His blood yet hot, more highly doth inflame :

And in his rage he inftantly commands
That every English should his pris'ner kill,
Except fome few in fome great captain's hands,
Whofe ransoms might his empty'd coffers fill.
All's one who's loofe, or who is now in bonds,
Both must one way, it is the Conqu'ror's will.
Those who late thought small ransoms them
might free,

Saw only death their ranfoms now must be.

Accurfed French, and could it not suffice,
That ye but now bath'd in your native gore,
But ye muft thus unfortunately rife,

To draw more plagues upon ye than before?
And 'gainft yourfelves more mischief to devise
Than th' English could have? and fet wide the door
To utter ruin, and to make an end

Of that yourselves, which others would not fpend?

Their utmost rage the English now hath breath'd,
And their proud hearts 'gan fomewhat to relent;
Their bloody fwords they quietly had sheath'd,
And their strong bows already were unbent;
To easeful reft their bodies they bequeath'd,
Nor farther harm at all to you they meant;

And to that pains muft ye them needily put, To draw their knives once more your throats to cut?

That French who lately by the English stood,
And freely afk'd what ranfom he should pay,
Who fomewhat cool'd and in a calmer mood,
Agreed with him both of the fum and day,
Now finds his flesh must be the prefent food
For wolves and ravens, for the fame that stay;
And fees his blood on th' other's fword to flow,
E'er his quick sense could apprehend the blow.

Whilst one is afking what the bus'nefs is,
Hearing (in French) his countryman to cry;
He who detains him pris'ner, answers this,
"Monfieur, the King commands that you must
die:

"This is plain English." Whilst he's killing his, He fees another on a Frenchman flie,

And with a pole ax dafheth out his brains, Whilft he's demanding what the garboil means.

That tender heart, whose chance it was to have
Some one that day who did much valour fhew,
Who might perhaps have had him for his slave,
But equal lots had fate pleas'd to bestow;
He who his pris'ner willingly would save,
Lastly constrain'd to give the deadly blow,
That fends him down to everlasting sleep,
Turning his face, full bitterly doth weep.

Who fcarce a shirt had but the day before,
Nor a whole stocking to keep out the cold,
Hath a whole wardrobe at command in ftore,
In the French fashion flaunting it in gold;
And in the tavern in his cups doth roar,
Chocking his crowns; and grows thereby fo bold,
That proudly he a captain's name affumes,
In his gilt gorget with his toffing plumes.

Waggons and carts are laden till they crackt,
With arms and tents there taken in the field;
For want of carriage, on whofe tops are packt
Enfigns, coat-armours, targets, fpears, and shields:
Nor need they convoy, fearing to be fackt,
For all the country to King Henry yields;

And the poor peafant helps along to bear,
What late the goods of his proud landlord were.
A horse well furnish'd for a present war,
For a French crown might any where be bought;
But if fo be that he had any scar,
Though ne'er so small, he valu'd was at nought.
With fpoils fo fated the proud English are,
Amongst the flain that who for pillage fought,

Except fome rich caparizon he found,

For a steel faddle would not stoop to ground.

And many a hundred beaten down that were,
Whofe wounds were mortal, others wond'rous deep,
When as the English over-pafs'd they hear,
And no man left a watch on them to keep,
Into the bushes and the ditches near
Upon their weak hands and their knees do creep;
But for their hurts took air, and were undrest,
They were found dead, and buried with the rest.

Thus when the King faw that the coaft was clear'd,
And of the French who were not flain were fled,
Nor in the field not any then appear'd,
That had the pow'r again to make a head :
This Conqueror exceedingly is cheer'd,
Thanking his God that he fo well had sped;
And fo tow'rds Calais bravely marching on,
Leaveth fad France her loffes to bemoan,

For

THAT at first I made choice of this fubject, I have not as yet repented; for, if the Mufe hath not much abused me, it was moft worthy to have found a more worthy pen than mine own. the Barons Wars (omitting the quality of those arms whereof I have not here to speak) were furely, as well for their length in continuance, as for their manifold bloodfhed, and multitude of horrid accidents, fit matter for trumpet or tragedy. Therefore, as at first the dignity of the thing was the motive of the doing, fo the cause of this my fecond greater labour was the infufficient handling of the first, which though it were more than boldness to venture on fo noble a fubject without leifure and competent study, either of which travail hardly affords; yet the importunity of friends made me, contrary to mine own judgment, undertake and publish it fo as the world hath feen; but herein I intend not to be too exact, as if either it needed too much excufe (knowing that even as it was, it ought to have paffed for better than fome would fuffer, who can hardly think any thing hath favour but their own, though never so unfavoury) or as if I fhould feem now to have exceeded myfelf, and failing in my hopes be kept without excufe. Grammaticafters have quarrelled at the title of Mortimeriados, as if it had been a fin againft Syntaxis to have infcribed it in the fecond cafe: But not their idle reproof hath made me now abftain from fronting it by the name of Mortimer at all, but the fame better advice which hath caused

me to alter the whole; and where before the ftanza was of feven lines, wherein there are two couplets, as in this figure appeareth,

I. 2.

the often harmony thereof foftened the verfe more than the majefty of the subject would permit, unless they had all been geminels, or couplets. Therefore (but not without new-fafhioning the whole frame) I chofe Ariofto's stanza, of all other the most complete and best proportioned, confisting of eight; fix interwoven or alternate, and a couplet in bafe.

I.

The Quadrin doth never double; or, to use a word of Heraldry, never bringeth forth Gemells: The Quinzain too foon. The Seftin hath twins in the bafe, but they detain not the mufic nor the clofe, as musicians term it, long enough for an Epic Poem. The ftanza of feven is touched before; this of eight both holds the tune clean