The Battaile of Agincourt Part 11

Panting for breath, his Murrian in his hand, Woodhouse comes in as back the English beare, My Lords (quoth he) what now inforc'd to stand, When smiling Fortune off'reth vs so faire, The French lye yonder like to wreakes of sand, And you by this our glory but impaire: Or now, or neuer, your first Fight maintaine, Chatillyon and the Constable are slaine.

[Stanza 204]

Hand ouer head pell mell vpon them ronne, If you will proue the Masters of the day, Ferrers and Greystock haue so brauely done, That I enuie their glory, and dare say, From all the English, they the Gole haue woone; Either let's share, or they'll beare all away.

This spoke, his Ax about his head he flings, And hasts away, as though his heeles had winges.

[Stanza 205]

The Incitation of this youthfull Knight, Besides amends for their Retrayte to make, Doth re-enforce their courage, with their might: A second Charge with speed to vndertake; Neuer before were they so mad to fight, When valiant Fanhope thus the Lords bespake, Suffolke and Oxford as braue Earles you be, Once more beare vp with Willoughby and me.

[Stanza 206]

Why now, me think'st I heare braue Fanhope speake, Quoth n.o.ble Oxford, thou hast thy desire: These words of thine shall yan Battalion breake: And for my selfe I neuer will retire, Vntill our Teene vpon the French we wreake: Or in this our last enterprise expire: This spoke, their Gauntlets each doth other giue, And to the Charge as fast as they could driue.

[Stanza 207]

That slaughter seem'd to haue but stay'd for breath, To make the horrour to ensue the more: With hands besmear'd with blood, when meager Death Looketh more grisly then he did before: So that each body seem'd but as a sheath To put their swords in, to the Hilts in gore: As though that instant were the end of all, To fell the French, or by the French to fall.

[Stanza 208: _A Simily of the apparance of the Battell._]

Looke how you see a field of standing Corne, When some strong winde in Summer haps to blowe, At the full height, and ready to be shorne, Rising in waues, how it doth come and goe Forward and backward, so the crowds are borne, Or as the Edie turneth in the flowe: And aboue all the Bills and Axes play, As doe the Attoms in the Sunny ray.

[Stanza 209]

Now with mayne blowes their Armours are vnbras'd, And as the French before the English fled, With their browne Bills their recreant backs they baste, And from their shoulders their faint Armes doe shred, One with a gleaue neere cut off by the waste, Another runnes to ground with halfe a head: Another stumbling falleth in his flight, Wanting a legge, and on his face doth light.

[Stanza 210]

The Dukes who found their force thus ouerthrowne, And those fewe left them ready still to route, Hauing great skill, and no lesse courage showne; Yet of their safeties much began to doubt, For hauing fewe about them of their owne, And by the English so impal'd about, Saw that to some one they themselues must yeeld, Or else abide the fury of the field.

[Stanza 211: _The Duke of Burbon and Orleance taken prisoners._]

They put themselues on those victorious Lords, Who led the Vanguard with so good successe, Bespeaking them with honourable words, Themselues their prisoners freely and confesse, Who by the strength of their commanding swords, Could hardly saue them from the slaught'ring presse, By Suffolks ayde till they away were sent, Who with a Guard conuay'd them to his Tent.

[Stanza 212]

When as their Souldiers to eschew the sack, Gainst their owne Battell bearing in their flight, By their owne French are strongly beaten back: Lest they their Ranks, should haue disord'red quight, So that those men at Armes goe all to wrack Twixt their owne friends, and those with whom they fight, Wherein disorder and destruction seem'd To striue, which should the powerfullest be deem'd.

[Stanza 213: _Called of some Guiscard the Daulphine of Aragon._]

And whilst the Daulphine of Auerney cryes, Stay men at Armes, let Fortune doe her worst, And let that Villaine from the field that flyes By Babes yet to be borne, be euer curst: All vnder heauen that we can hope for, lyes On this dayes battell, let me be the first That turn'd yee back vpon your desperate Foes, To saue our Honours, though our lyues we lose.

[Stanza 214]

To whom comes in the Earle of Ewe, which long Had in the Battaile ranged here and there, A thousand Bills, a thousand Bowes among, And had seene many spectakles of feare, And finding yet the Daulphins spirit so strong, By that which he had chanst from him to heare, Vpon the shoulder claps him, Prince quoth he, Since I mast fall, o let me fall with thee.

[Stanza 215]

Sca.r.s.e had he spoke, but th'English them inclose, And like to Mastiues fircely on them flew, Who with like Courage strongly them oppose, When the Lord Beamont, who their Armings knewe, Their present perill to braue Suffolke shewes, Quoth hee, Lo where Dauerny are and Ewe, In this small time, who since the Field begun, Haue done as much, as can by men be done.

[Stanza 216]

Now slaughter cease me, if I doe not greeue, Two so braue Spirits should be vntimely slaine, Lies there no way (my Lord) them to releeue, And for their Ransomes two such to retaine: Quoth Suffolke, come weele hazad their repreeue, And share our Fortunes, in they goe amaine, And with such danger through the presse they wade, As of their liues but small account they made.

[Stanza 217: _The Daulphin of Auerney slaine._]

[_The Earle of Ewe taken prisoner._]

Yet ere they through the cl.u.s.tred Crouds could get, Oft downe on those, trod there to death that lay, The valient Daulphin had discharg'd his debt, Then whom no man had brauelier seru'd that day.

The Earle of Ewe, and wondrous hard beset: Had left all hope of life to scape away: Till n.o.ble Beamont and braue Suffolke came, And as their prisoner seas'd him by his name.

[Stanza 218]

Now the mayne Battaile of the French came on, The Vanward vanquisht, quite the Field doth flye, And other helpes besides this, haue they none: But that their hopes doe on their mayne relye, And therefore now it standeth them vpon, To fight it brauely, or else yeeld, or dye: For the fierce English charge so home and sore, As in their hands Ioues thunderbolts they bore.

[Stanza 219: _The Duke of Yorke slaine._]

The Duke of Yorke, who since the fight begun, Still in the top of all his Troopes was seene, And things wellneere beyond beleefe had done, Which of his Fortune, made him ouerweene, Himselfe so farre into the maine doth runne, So that the French which quickly got betweene Him and his succours, that great Chiefetaine slue, Who brauely fought whilest any breath he drew.

[Stanza 220: _The King heareth of the Duke of Yorks death._]

The newes soone brought to this Couragious King, Orespred his face with a distempred Fire, Though making little shew of any thing, Yet to the full his eyes exprest his Ire, More then before the Frenchmen menacing; And hee was heard thus softly to respire: Well, of thy blood reuenged will I bee, Or ere one houre be past Ile follow thee.

[Stanza 221: _The Kings resolution._]

When as the frolike Caualry of France, That in the head of the maine Battaile came, Perceiu'd the King of England to aduance, To Charge in person; It doth them inflame, Each one well hoping it might be his chance To sease vpon him, which was all their ayme, Then with the brauest of the English mett, Themselues that there before the King had sett.

[Stanza 222: _The b.l.o.o.d.y scuffle betweene the French and English, at the Ioyning of the two mayne Battailes, in fiue Stanzas._]

When the Earle of Cornewal with vnusuall force, Encounters Grandpre (next that came to hand) In Strength his equall, blow for blow they scorce, Weelding their Axes as they had beene wands, Till the Earle tumbles Grandpre from his Horse Ouer whom straight the Count Salines stands, And lendeth Cornwal such a blow withall, Ouer the Crupper that he makes him fall.

[Stanza 223]

Cornwal recouers, for his Armes were good, And to Salines maketh vp againe, Who changde such boysterous buffets, that the blood, Doth through the Ioints of their strong Armour straine, Till Count Salines sunck downe where he stood, Blamount who sees the Count Salines slaine, Straight copes with Cornwal beaten out of breath Till Kent comes in, and rescues him from death.

[Stanza 224]

Kent vpon Blamount furiously doth flye, Who at the Earle with no lesse courage struck, And one the other with such knocks they plye, That eithers Axe in th'others Helmet stuck; Whilst they are wrastling, crossing thigh with thigh; Their Axes pykes, which soonest out should pluck: They, fall to ground like in their Casks to smother, With their clutcht Gauntlets cuffing one another.

[Stanza 225: _Called Cluet of Brabant._]

Couragious Cluet grieued at the sight Of his friend Blamounts vnexpected fall, Makes in to lend him all the ayde he might; Whose comming seem'd the stout Lord Scales to call, Betwixt whom then began a mortall fight, When instantly fell in Sir Phillip Hall, Gainst him goes Roussy, in then Louell ran, Whom next Count Moruyle chuseth as his man.

[Stanza 226]

Their Curates are vnriuetted with blowes, With horrid wounds their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and faces slasht; There drops a cheeke, and there falls off a nose: And in ones face his fellowes braines are dasht; Yet still the Better with the English goes; The earth of France with her owne blood is washt; They fall so fast, she sca.r.s.e affords them roome, That one mans Trunke becomes anothers Toombe.

[Stanza 227: _The Earle of Suffolke chargeth the Earle of Huntingdon With breach of promise._]