Collected Works of Michael Drayton

by Michael Drayton

  With almost all the power of Cheshire got together,

  By Venables, (there great) and Vernon mustred thether.

  The Vaward of the King, great Stafford tooke to guide.

  The Vaward of the Lords vpon the other side,

  Consisted most of Scots, which ioyning, made such spoyle,

  As at the first constrain’d the English to recoyle,

  And almost brake their Rankes, which when King Henry found,

  Bringing his Battell vp, to reinforce the ground,

  The Percies bring vp theirs, againe to make it good.

  Thus whilst the either Host in opposition stood,

  Braue Dowglasse with his spurres, his furious Courser strake,

  His Lance set in his rest, when desperatly he brake

  In, where his eye beheld th’Emperiall Ensigne pight,

  Where soone it was his chance, vpon the King to light,

  Which in his full carreere he from his Courser threw;

  The next Sir Walter Blunt, he with three other slew,

  All armed like the King, which he dead sure accounted;

  But after when hee saw the King himselfe remounted:

  This hand of mine, quoth he, foure Kings this day hath slaine,

  And swore out of the earth he thought they sprang againe,

  Or Fate did him defend, at whom he onely aym’d.

  When Henry Hotspurre, so with his high deeds inflam’d,

  Doth second him againe, and through such dangers presse,

  That Dowglasse valiant deeds he made to seeme the lesse,

  As still the people cryed, A Percy Espirance.

  The King which saw then time, or neuer to aduance

  His Battell in the Field, which neere from him was wonne,

  Ayded by that braue Prince, his most couragious sonne,

  Who brauely comming on, in hope to giue them chase,

  It chanc’d he with a shaft was wounded in the face;

  Whom when out of the fight, his friends would beare away,

  He strongly it refus’d, and thus was heard to say,

  Time neuer shall report, Prince Henry left the field,

  When Harry Percy staid, his traytrous sword to weeld.

  Now rage and equall wounds, alike inflame their bloods,

  And the maine Battels ioyne, as doe two aduerse floods

  Met in some narrow Arme, shouldring as they would shoue

  Each other from their path, or would their bankes remoue.

  The King his traytrous foes, before him downe doth hew,

  And with his hands that day, neere fortie persons slue:

  When conquest wholly turnes to his victorious side,

  His power surrounding all, like to a furious tyde;

  That Henry Hotspurre dead vpon the cold earth lyes,

  Stout Wor’ster taken was, and doughtie Douglasse flyes.

  Fiue thousand from both parts left dead vpon the ground,

  Mongst who the kings fast friend, great Staffords coarse was found;

  And all the Knights there dub’d the morning but before,

  The euenings Suune beheld there sweltred in their gore.

  Here I at Bramham More, the Battell in should bring,

  Of which Earle Percie had the greatest managing,

  With the Lord Bardolfe there, against the Counties power,

  Fast cleauing to his friend, euen to his vtmost houre:

  In Flanders, France, and Wales, who hauing been abroad

  To raise them present powers, intending for a Road

  On England, for the hate he to King Henry bore;

  His sonne and brothers blood augmenting it the more,

  Which in his mightie spirit still rooted did remaine,

  By his too much default, whom he imputed slaine

  At Shrewsbury before, to whom if he had brought

  Supplies, (that bloody field, when they so brauely fought)

  They surely it had wonne; for which to make amends,

  Being furnished with men, amongst his forraine friends,

  By Scotland entred here, and with a violent hand

  Vpon those Castles ceaz’d within Northumberland

  His Earledome, (which the King, who much his truth did doubt,

  Had taken to himselfe, and put his people out)

  Toward Yorkshire comming on, where (soone repaid his owne)

  At Bramhams fatall More, was fowly ouerthrowne:

  Which though it were indeed a long and mortall fight,

  Where many men were maim’d, and many slaine outright:

  Where that couragious Earle, all hopes there seeing past,

  Amongst his murthered troups (euen) fought it to the last:

  Yet for it was atchieu’d by multitudes of men,

  Which with Ralfe Roksby rose, the Shreefe of Yorkshire then,

  No well proportion’d fight, we of description quit,

  Amongst our famous fields; nor will we here admit

  That of that Rakehel Cades, and his rebellious crue,

  In Kent and Sussex raisd, at Senok fight that slue

  The Staffords with their power, that thither him pursu’d,

  Who twice vpon Black heath, back’d with the Commons rude,

  Incamp’d against the King: then goodly London tooke,

  There ransoming some rich, and vp the prisons broke,

  His sensuall beastly will, for Law that did preferre,

  Beheaded the Lord Say, then Englands Treasurer,

  And forc’d the King to flight, his person to secure,

  The Muse admits not here, a rabble so impure.

  But brings that Battell on of that long dreadfull warre,

  Of those two Houses nam’d of Yorke and Lancaster,

  In faire Saint Albans fought, most fatally betwixt

  Richard then Duke of Yorke, and Henry cald the sixt,

  For that ill-gotten Crowne, which him his Grandsire left,

  That likewise with his life, he from King Richard reft,

  When vnderhand the Duke doth but promoue his claime,

  Who from the elder sonne, the Duke of Clarence came,

  For which he raised Armes, yet seem’d but to abet

  The people, to plucke downe the Earle of Somerset,

  By whom (as they gaue out) we Normandy had lost,

  And yet he was the man that onely rul’d the roast.

  With Richard Duke of Yorke, (into his faction wonne)

  Salsbury and Warwicke came, the father and the sonne;

  The Neuils nobler name, that haue renown’d so farre.

  So likewise with the King in this great action are,

  The Dukes of Somerset, and Buckingham, with these

  Were thrice so many Earles, their stout accomplices,

  As Pembroke great in power, and Stafford with them stand

  With Deuonshire, Dorset, Wilt, and fierce Northumber land,

  With Sidley, Bernes, and Rosse, three Barons with the rest,

  When Richard Duke of Yorke, then marching from the west;

  Towards whom, whilst with his power King Henry forward set,

  Vnluckily as’t hapt, they at Saint Albans met;

  Where taking vp the Street, the buildings them enclose,

  Where Front doth answer Front, & strength doth strength oppose;

  Whilst like two mightie walls, they each to other stand,

  And as one sinketh downe vnder his enemies hand,

  Another thrusting in, his place doth still supply,

  Betwixt them whilst on heaps the mangled bodies lie:

  The Staules are ouerthrowne with the vnweldy thrust,

  The windowes with the shot, are shiuered all to dust.

  The Winters Sleet or Hayle was neuer seene so thicke,

  As on the houses sides the bearded arrowes sticke,

  Where Warwicks courage first most Comet-like appeard,

  Who with words full of Spirit, his fighting Souldiers cheerd;

  And euer as he saw the slaughter of his men
,

  He with fresh forces fil’d the places vp agen.

  The valiant Marchmen thus the battell still maintaine,

  That when King Henry found on heaps his Souldiers slaine,

  His great Commanders cals, who when they sadly saw,

  The honour of the day would to the Yorkists draw,

  Their persons they put in, as for the last to stand;

  The Duke of Somerset, Henry Northumberland,

  Of those braue warlike Earles, the second of that name,

  The Earle of Stafford, sonne to th’ Duke of Buckingham,

  And Iohn Lord Clifford then, which shed their noble gore

  Vnder the Castles signe, (of which not long before,

  A Prophet bad the Duke of Somerset beware)

  With many a valiant Knight, in death that had his share:

  So much great English blood, for others lawlesse guilt,

  Vpon so little ground before was neuer spilt.

  Proud Yorke hath got the gole, the King of all forfaken,

  Into a cottage got, a wofull prisoner taken.

  The Battell of Blore-heath, the place doth next supply,

  Twixt Richard Neuill, that great Earle of Salisbury,

  Who with the Duke of Yorke, had at Saint Albans late,

  That glorious Battell got with vncontrouled Fate:

  And Iames Lord Audley stir’d by that reuengefull Queene,

  To stop him on his way, for the inueterate spleene

  Shee bare him, for that still he with the Yorkists held,

  Who comming from the North, (by sundry wrongs compeld

  To parley with the King) the Queene that time who lay

  In Staffordshire, and thought to stop him on his way,

  That valiant Tuchet stir’d, in Cheshire powerfull then,

  T’affront him in the field, where Cheshire Gentlemen

  Diuided were, th’one part made valiant Tuchet strong,

  The other with the Earle rose as he came along,

  Incamping both their powers, diuided by a Brooke,

  Whereby the prudent Earle, this strong aduantage tooke:

  For putting in the field his Army in aray,

  Then making as (with speed) he meant to march away,

  He caus’d a flight of Shafts to be discharged first.

  The enemy who thought that he had done his worst,

  And cowardly had fled in a disordred Rout,

  Attempt to wade the Brooke, he wheeling (soone) about,

  Set fiercely on that part, which then were passed ouer;

  Their Friends then in the Reare, not able to recouer

  The other rising banke, to lend the Vaward ayd.

  The Earle who found the plot take right that he had layd,

  On those that forward prest, as those that did recoyle,

  As hungry in reuenge, there made a rauenous spoyle:

  There Dutton, Dutton kils; A Done doth kill a Done;

  A Booth, a Booth; and Leigh by Leigh is ouerthrowne;

  A Venables, against a Venables doth stand;

  And Troutbeck fighteth with a Troutbeck hand to hand;

  There Molineux doth make a Molineux to die,

  And Egerton, the strength of Egerton doth trie.

  O Chesshire wert thou mad, of thine owne natiue gore

  So much vntill this day thou neuer shedst before!

  Aboue two thousand men vpon the earth were throwne,

  Of which the greatest part were naturally thine owne.

  The stout Lord Audley slaine, with many a Captaine there;

  To Salsbury it sorts the Palme away to beare.

  Then faire Northampton next, thy Battell place shall take,

  Which of th’Emperiall warre, the third fought Field doth make,

  Twixt Henry cald our sixt, vpon whose partie came

  His neere and deare Allies, the Dukes of Buckingham,

  And Somerset, the Earle of Shrewsbury of account,

  Stout Vicount Beaumount, and the yong Lord Egremount,

  Gainst Edward Earle of March, sonne to the Duke of Yorke,

  With Warwicke, in that warre, who set them all at worke,

  And Falkonbridge with him, not much vnlike the other;

  A Neuill nobly borne, his puisant fathers brother,

  Who to the Yorkists claime, had euermore been true,

  And valiant Bourcher, Earle of Essex, and of Eau.

  The King from out the towne, who drew his Foot and Horse,

  As willingly to giue full field-roomth to his Force,

  Doth passe the Riuer Nen, neere where it downe doth runne

  From his first fountaines head, is neere to Harsington,

  Aduised of a place, by Nature strongly wrought,

  Doth there encampe his power: the Earle of March who sought

  To prooue by dint of sword, who should obtaine the day,

  From Tawcester traynd on his powers in good aray.

  The Vaward Warwicke led, (whom no attempt could feare;

  The Middle March himselfe, and Falkonbridge the Reare.

  Now Iuly entred was, and ere the restlesse Sunne,

  Three houres ascent had got, the dreadfull fight begun

  By Warwicke, who a straight from Vicount Beaumont tooke,

  Defeating him at first, by which hee quickly brooke

  In, on th’Emperiall host, which with a furious charge,

  He forc’d vpon the field, it selfe more to enlarge.

  Now English Bowes, and Bills, and Battle-axes walke,

  Death vp and downe the field in gastly sort doth stalke.

  March in the flower of Youth, like Mars himselfe doth beare;

  But Warwicke as the man, whom Fortune seem’d to feare,

  Did for him what he would, that wheresoere he goes,

  Downe like a furious storme, before him all he throwes:

  So Shrewsbury againe of Talbots valiant straine,

  (That fatall Scourge of France) as stoutly doth maintaine,

  The party of the King, so princely Somerset,

  Whom th’others knightly deeds, more eagerly doth whet,

  Beares vp with them againe: by Somerset opposd

  At last King Henries host being on three parts enclosd,

  Aud ayds still comming in vpon the Yorkists side,

  The Summer being then at height of all her pride,

  The Husbandman, then hard vpon his Haruest was:

  But yet the cocks of Hay, nor swaths of new-shorne grasse,

  Strew’d not the Meads so thick, as mangled bodies there,

  When nothing could be seene, but horror euery where:

  So that vpon the bancks, and in the streame of Nen,

  Ten thousand well resolu’d, stout, natiue English men

  Left breathlesse, with the rest great Buckingham is slaine,

  And Shrewsbury whose losse those times did much complaine,

  Egremont, and Beaumont, both found dead vpon the Field,

  The miserable King, inforc’d againe to yeeld.

  Then Wakefield Battell next, we in our Bedroule bring,

  Fought by Prince Edward, sonne to that oft-conquered King,

  And Richard Duke of Yorke, still strugling for the Crowne,

  Whom Salsbury assists, the man with whose renowne,

  The mouth of Fame seem’d fild, there hauing with them then

  Some few selected Welsh, and Southerne Gentlemen:

  A handfull to those powers, with which Prince Edward came;

  Of which amongst the rest, the men of noblest name,

  Were those two great-borne Dukes, which still his right preferre

  His cosen Somerset, and princely Excester,

  The Earle of Wiltshire still, that on his part stucke close:

  With those two valiant Peeres, Lord Clifford, and Lord Rosse,

  Who made their March from Yorke to Wakefield, on their way

  To meet the Duke, who then at Sandall Castle lay,

  Whom at his (very) gate, into the Field they dar�
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  Whose long expected powers not fully then prepar’d,

  That March his valiant sonne, should to his succours bring.

  Wherefore that puissant Lord, by speedy mustring

  His Tenants and such friends, as he that time could get,

  Fiue thousand in fiue dayes, in his Battalion set

  Gainst their twice doubled strength; nor could the Duke be stayd,

  Till he might from the South be seconded with ayd;

  As in his martiall pride, disdaining his poore foes,

  So often vs’d to winne, he neuer thought to lose.

  The Prince, which still prouok’d th’incensed Duke to fight,

  His maine Battalion rang’d in Sandals loftie sight,

  In which he, and the Dukes, were seene in all their pride:

  And as Yorkes powers should passe, he had on either side

  Two wings in ambush laid, which at the place assign’d

  His Rereward should inclose, which as a thing diuin’d,

  Iust caught as he forecast; for scarse his armie comes

  From the descending banks, and that his ratling Drummes

  Excites his men to charge; but Wiltshire with his force,

  Which were of light-arm’d Foot, and Rosse with his light Horse,

  Came in vpon their backes, as from a mountaine throwne,

  In number to the Dukes, by being foure to one.

  Euen as a Rout of wolues, when they by chance haue caught

  A Beast out of the Heard, which long time they haue sought;

  Vpon him all at once couragiously doe set,

  Him by the Dewlaps some, some by the flanke doe get:

  Some climbing to his eares, doe neuer leaue their hold,

  Till falling on the ground, they haue him as they would,

  With many of his kind, which, when he vs’d to wend,

  What with their hornes & hoofes, could then themselues defend.

  Thus on their foes they fell, and downe the Yorkists fall;

  Red Slaughter in her armes encompasseth them all.

  The first of all the fights in this vnnaturall warre,

  In which blind Fortune smild on wofull Lancaster.

  Heere Richard Duke of Yorke, downe beaten, breath’d his last,

  And Salsbury so long with conquest still that past,

  Inforced was to yeeld; Rutland a younger sonne

  To the deceased Duke, as he away would runne,

  (A child scarse twelue yeares old) by Clifford there surpriz’d,

  Who whilst he thought with teares his rage to haue suffiz’d,

  By him was answered thus, Thy father hath slaine mine,

  And for his blood (young Boy) Ile haue this blood of thine,

  And stab’d him to the heart: thus the Lancastrians raigne,