Nor can heare those that for their mercie cry.
Ears are damm’d vp with howles and hellish sounds
One fearefull noyse a fearefuller confounds.
194: Charles de la Breth Constable of France.
When the couragious Constable of France,
Th’vnlucky Vanguard valiantly that led,
Sawe the day turn’d by this disastrous chance,
And how the French before the English fled;
O stay (quoth he) your Ensignes yet aduance,
Once more vpon the Enemy make head:
Neuer let France say, we were vanquisht so,
With our backs basely turn’d vpon our Foe.
195: The Admirall.
Whom the Chattillyon hapned to accost,
And seeing thus the Constable dismayde:
Shift noble Lord (quoth he) the day is lost,
If the whole world vpon the match were layde,
I cannot thinke but that Black Edwards Ghost
Assists the English, and our Horse hath frayde;
If not, some Diuels they haue with them then,
That fight against vs in the shapes of men.
196
Not I my Lord, the Constable replies:
By my blest soule, the Field I will not quit:
Whilst two braue Battailes are to bring supplies:
Neither of which one stroke haue strucken yet:
Nay (quoth Dampeir) I doe not this aduise
More then your selfe, that I doe feare a whit:
Spurre vp my Lord, then side to side with mee,
And that I feare not, you shall quickly see.
197: The Admirall slaine.
They struck their Rowells to the bleeding sides
Of their fierce Steeds into the ayre that sprong:
And as their fury at that instant guides:
They thrust themselues into the murth’ring throng,
Where such bad fortune those braue Lords betides:
The Admirall from off his Horse was flong,
For the sterne English downe before them beere
All that withstand, the Pesant and the Peere.
198: The Constable slaine.
Which when the noble Constable with griefe,
Doth this great Lord vpon the ground behold;
In his account so absolute a Chiefe,
Whose death through France he knew would be condol’d,
Like a braue Knight to yeeld his friend reliefe,
Doing as much as possibly he could,
Both horse and man is borne into the mayne,
And from his friend not halfe a furlong slayne.
199
Now Willoughby vpon his well-Arm’d Horse,
Into the midst of this Battalion brought,
And valiant Fanhope no whit lesse in force,
Himselfe hath thither through the squadrons raught,
Whereas the English without all remorce,
(Looking like men that deepely were distraught)
Smoking with sweat, besmear’d with dust and blood,
Cut into Cantels all that them withstood.
200
Yet whilst thus hotely they hold vp the Chase
Vpon the French, and had so high a hand:
The Duke of Burbon to make good his place,
Inforc’d his troupes (with much adoe) to stand,
To whom the Earle of Suffolke makes a pace,
Bringing a fresh, and yet-vnfought-with Band:
Of valiant Bill-men, Oxford with successe,
Vp with his Troupes doth with the other presse.
201
When in comes Orleance, quite thrust off before,
By those rude crowdes that from the English ran,
Encouraging stout Burbons Troupes the more,
T’affront the Foe that instantly began:
Faine would the Duke (if possible) restore,
(Doing as much as could be done by man)
Their Honour lost, by this their late Defeate,
And caused onely, by their base Retreate.
202
Their men at Armes their Lances closely lock
One in another, and come vp so round,
That by the strength and horrour of the shock,
They forc’d the English to forsake their ground,
Shrinking no more then they had beene a Rock,
Though by the Shafts receiuing many a wound,
As they would showe, that they were none of those,
That turn’d their backs so basely to their Foes.
203: The courage of Woodhouse remarkable.
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.
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.
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.
206
Why now, me think’st I heare braue Fanhope speake,
Quoth noble 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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, ô let me fall with thee.
215
Scarse 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.
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.
217: The Daulphin of Auerney slaine.
[The Earle of Ewe taken prisoner.]
Yet ere they through the clustred 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 noble Beamont and braue Suffolke came,
And as their prisoner seas’d him by his name.
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.
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.
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.
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.
222: The bloody 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.
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.
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.
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.
226
Their Curates are vnriuetted with blowes,
With horrid wounds their breasts 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 scarse affords them roome,
That one mans Trunke becomes anothers Toombe.
227: The Earle of Suffolke chargeth the Earle of Huntingdon
With breach of promise.
When Suffolk chargeth Huntingdon with sloth,
Ouer himselfe too wary to haue bin,
And had neglected his fast plighted troth
Vpon the Field, the Battaile to begin,
That where the one was, there they would be both;
When the stout Earle of Huntingdon, to win
Trust with his friends; doth this himselfe enlarge
To this great Earle who dares him thus to charge.
228
My Lord (quoth he) it is not that I feare,
More then your selfe, that so I haue not gone;
But that I haue beene forced to be neare
The King, whose person I attend vpon,
And that I doubt not but to make appeare
Now, if occasion shall but call me on,
Looke round about my Lord, if you can see,
Some braue aduenture worthy you and me.
229: A desperate attempt by the Earle of Huntingdon.
See yan proud Banner, of the Duke of Barres,
Me thinkst it wafts vs, and I heare it say,
Wher’s that couragious Englishman that darres,
Aduenture, but to carry me away,
This were a thing, now worthy of our warres;
I’st true, quoth Suffolke, by this blessed day,
On, and weele haue it, sayst thou so indeed,
Quoth Huntingdon, then Fortune be our speed.
230
And through the Ranckes then rushing in their pride,
They make a Lane; about them so they lay,
Foote goes with foote, and side is ioynde to side,
They strike downe all that stand within their way,
And to direct them, haue no other guide,
But as they see the multitude to sway;
And as they passe, the French as to defie,
Saint George for England and the King they cry.
231: One braue exploit begetteth another.
By their examples, each braue English blood,
Vpon the Frenchmen for their Ensignes runne,
Thick there as trees within a well-growne wood;
Where great Atchiements instantly were done,
Against them toughly whilst that Nation stood,
But ô what man his destinie can shunne
That Noble Suffolke there is ouerthrowne,
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 141