Collected Works of Michael Drayton
Page 143
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 fou
nd 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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 plague
s 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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: