Collected Works of Michael Drayton

by Michael Drayton

  With Warwicke, till himselfe he might of power prouide,

  To noble Pembroke sends, those Rebels to withstand.

  Six thousand valiant We sh, who mustring out of hand,

  By Richard , his brother them doth bring,

  And for their greater strength (appointed by the King)

  Th’Lord Stafford (of his house) of Powick named then,

  Eight hundred Archers brought, the most selected men

  The Marches could make out: these hauing Seuerne crost,

  And vp to Cotswould clome, they heard the Northern host,

  Being at Northampton then, it selfe tow’rds Warwicke wayd,

  When with a speedy march, the Harberts that forlayd

  Their passage, charg’d their Reare with neere two thousand horse,

  That the Lancastrian part suipecting all their force

  Had followed them againe, their armie bring about,

  Both with such speed and skill, that the Welsh got out,

  By hauing charg’d too farre, some of their Vaward lost,

  Beat to their backe; thus as these Legions coast,

  On Danemore they are met, indifferent for this warre,

  Whereas three easie hils that stand Trianguler,

  Small Edgcoat ouerlooke; on that vpon the West

  The Welsh encampe themselues; the Northerne them possest

  Of that vpon the South, whilst, (by warres strange euent)

  Yong Neuill, who would braue the Harberts in their Tent,

  Leading a troupe of Youth, (vpon that fatall plaine)

  Was taken by the Welsh, and miserably slaine,

  Of whose vntimely death, his friends the next day tooke

  A terrible reuenge, when Stafford there forsooke

  The army of the Welsh, and with his Archers bad

  Them fight that would for him; for that proud Pembroke had

  Displac’d him of his Inne, in Banbury where he

  His Paramore had lodg’d; where since he might not be,

  He back ward shapes his course, and leaues the Harberts there,

  T’abide the brunt of all: with outcries euery where

  The clamorous Drummes & Fifes to the rough charge do sound,

  Together horse and man come tumbling to the ground:

  Then limbs like boughs were lop’d, from shoulders armes doe flie;

  They fight as none could scape, yet scape as none could die.

  The ruffling Northern Lads, and the stout Welshmen tri’d it;

  Then Head-pieces hold out, or braines must sore abide it.

  The Northern men Saint George for Lancaster doe crie:

  A Pembroke for the King, the lustie Welsh replie;

  When many a gallant youth doth desperatly assay,

  To doe some thing that might be worthy of the day:

  Where Richard Harbert beares into the Northern prease,

  And with his Poleaxe makes his way with such successe,

  That breaking through the Rankes, he their maine Battell past,

  And quit it so againe, that many stood aghast,

  That from the higher ground beheld him wade the crowd,

  As often ye behold in tempests rough and proud,

  O’rtaken with a storme, some Shell or little Crea,

  Hard labouring for the land, on the high-working Sea,

  Seemes now as swallowed vp, then floating light and free

  O’th top of some high waue; then thinke that you it see

  Quite sunke beneath that waste of waters, yet doth cleere

  The Maine, and safely gets some Creeke or Harbor neere:

  So Harbert cleer’d their Host; but see th’euent of warre,

  Some Spialls on the hill discerned had from farre

  Another Armie come to ayd the Northerne side,

  When they which Claphams craft so quickly not espide,

  Who with fiue hundred men about Northampton raisd,

  All discontented spirits, with Edwards rule displeasd,

  Displaying in the field great dreaded Beare:

  The Welsh who thought the Earle in person had been there,

  Leading a greater power (disheartened) turne the backe

  Before the Northerne host, that quickly goe to wracke.

  Fiue thousand valiant Welsh are in chase o’rthrowne,

  Which but an houre before had thought the day their owne.

  Their Leaders (in the flight) the high-borne Harberts t’ane,

  At Banbury must pay for Henry Neuill slaine.

  Now Stamford in due course, the Muse doth come to tell,

  Of thine owne named field, what in the fight befell,

  Betwixt braue youthfull Wells, from Lincolnshire that led

  Neere twentie thousand men, tow’rd London making head,

  Against the Yorkists power, great Warwicke to abet,

  Who with a puisant force prepared forth to set,

  To ioyne with him in Armes, and ioyntly take their chance.

  And Edward with his friends, who likewise doe aduance

  His forces, to refell that desperate daring foe;

  Who for he durst himselfe in open Armes to show,

  Nor at his dread command them downe againe would lay.

  His father the Lord Wells, who he suppos’d might sway

  His so outragious sonne, with his lou’d law-made brother,

  Sir Thomas Dymock, thought too much to rule the other,

  He strangely did to die, which so incens’d the spleene

  Of this couragious youth, that he to wreake his teene

  Vpon the cruell King, doth euery way excite

  Him to an equall field, that com’n where they might smite

  The Battell: on this plaine it chanc’d their Armies met:

  They rang’d their seuerall fights, which once in order set,

  The loudly-brawling Drummes, which seemed to haue feard

  The trembling ayre at first, soone after were not heard,

  For out-cries, shreekes, and showts, whilst noyse doth noyse confound.

  No accents touch the eare, but such as death doe sound:

  In thirsting for reuenge, whilst fury them doth guide:

  As slaughter seemes by turnes to sease on either side.

  The Southerne expert were, in all to warre belong,

  And exercise their skill, the Marchmen stout and strong,

  Which to the Battell sticke, and if they make retreat,

  Yet comming on againe, the foe they backe doe beat,

  And Wels for Warwicke crie, and for the rightfull Crowne;

  The other call a Yorke, to beat the Rebels downe:

  The worst that warre could doe, on either side she showes,

  Or by the force of Bils, or by the strength of Bowes,

  But still by fresh supplies, the Yorkists power encrease:

  And Wels, who sees his troups so ouerborne with prease,

  By hazarding too farre into the boystrous throng,

  Incouraging his men the aduerse troupes among,

  With many a mortall wound, his wearied breath expir’d:

  Which sooner knowne to his, then his first hopes desir’d,

  Ten thousand on the earth before them lying slaine,

  No hope left to repaire their ruin’d state againe,

  Cast off their Countries coats, to hast their speed away,

  (Of them) which Loose-coat field is cald (euen) to this day.

  Since needsly I must sticke vpon my former text,

  The bloody Battell fought, at Barnet followeth next,

  Twixt Edward, who before he setled was to raigne,

  By Warwicke hence expuls’d; but here ariu’d againe,

  From Burgundy, brought in munition, men and pay,

  And all things fit for warre, expecting yet a day.

  Whose brother George came in, with Warwicke that had stood,

  Whom nature wrought at length t’adhere to his owne blood:

  His brother Richard Duke of Gloster, and his friend;


  Lord Hastings, who to him their vtmost powers extend;

  And Warwick, whose great heart so mortall hatred bore

  To Edward, that by all the Sacraments he swore,

  Not to lay downe his Armes, vntill his sword had rac’d,

  That proud King from his Seat, that so had him disgrac’d:

  And Marquesse Mountacute, his brother, that braue stem

  Of Neuils noble Stock, who ioyned had to them,

  The Dukes of Somerset, and Excester, and take

  The Earle of Oxford in; the Armies forward make,

  And meeting on the plaine, to Barnet very neere,

  That to this very day, is called Gladmore there.

  Duke Richard to the field, doth Edwards Vaward bring;

  And in the middle came that most couragious King,

  With Clarence his reclaim’d, and brother then most deare;

  His friend Lord had the guiding of the Reare,

  (A man of whom the King most highly did repute.)

  On puisant Warwicks part, the Marquesse Mountacute

  His brother, and his friend the Earle of Oxford led

  The right wing; and the left which most that day might sted,

  The Duke of Excester; and he himselfe doe guide

  The middle fight (which was the Armies onely pride)

  Of Archers most approu’d, the best that he could get,

  Directed by his friend, the Duke of Somerset.

  O Sabboth ill bestow’d, O drery Easter day,

  In which (as some suppose) the Sunne doth vse to play,

  In honour of that God for sinfull man that dy’d,

  And rose on that third day, that Sunne which now doth hide

  His face in foggy mists; nor was that morning seene,

  So that the space of ground those angry hosts betweene,

  Was ouershadowed quite with darknesse, which so cast

  The armies on both sides, that they each other past,

  Before they could perceiue aduantage, where to fight;

  Besides the enuious mist so much deceiu’d their sight,

  That where eight hundred men, which valiant Oxford brought,

  Ware Comets on their coats: great Warwicks force which thought

  They had King Edwards beene, which so with Sunnes were drest,

  First made their shot at them, who by their friends distrest,

  Constrayned were to flie, being scattered here and there.

  But when this direfull day at last began to cleere,

  King Edward then beholds that height of his first hopes,

  Whose presence gaue fresh life to his oft-fainting troupes,

  Prepar’d to scourge his pride, there daring to defie

  His mercie, to the host proclaiming publikely

  His hatefull breach of faith, his periury, and shame,

  And what might make him vile; so Warwicke heard that name

  Of Yorke, which in the field he had so oft aduanc’d,

  And to that glorious height, and greatnesse had inhanc’d,

  Then cried against his power, by those which oft had sled,

  Their swist pursuing foc, by him not brauely led,

  Vpon the enemies backe, their swords bath’d in the gore

  Of those from whom they , like heartlesse men before,

  Which Warwicks nobler name iniuriously defide,

  Euen as the irefull host then ioyned side to side.

  Where cruell Richard charg’d the Earles maine battell, when

  Proud Somerset therein, with his approoued men

  Stood stoutly to the shocke, and flang out such a flight

  Of shafts, as welneere seem’dt’eclipse the welcom’d light,

  Which forc’d them to fall off, on whose retreit againe,

  That great Battalion next approcheth the fayre plaine,

  Where in the King himselfe in person was to trie,

  Proud Warwicks vtmost strength: when Warwicke by and by,

  With his left wing came vp, and charg’d so home and round,

  That had not his light horse by disuantagious ground

  Been hindred, he had strucke the heart of Edwards host:

  But finding his defeat, his enterprise so lost,

  He his swift Currers sends, to will his valiant brother,

  And Oxford, in command being equall to the other,

  To charge with the right wing, who brauely vp doe beare;

  But Hastings that before raught thither with his Reare,

  And with King Edward ioynd, the host too strongly arm’d.

  When euery part with spoyle, with rape, with fury charm’d,

  Are prodigall of blood, that slaughter seemes to swill

  It selfe in humane gore, and euery one cries kill.

  So doubtfull and so long the battell doth abide,

  That those, which to and fro, twixt that and London ride,

  That Warwicke winnes the day for certaine newes doe bring,

  Those following them againe, sayd certainly the King,

  Vntill great Warwicke found his armie had the worse,

  And sore began to faint, alighting from his horse,

  In with the formost puts, and wades into the throng;

  And where he saw death stern’st, the murthered troupes among,

  He ventures, as the Sunne in a tempestuous day,

  With darknesse threatned long, yet sometimes doth display

  His cheerefull beames, which scarce appeare to the cleere eye,

  But suddenly the clouds, which on the winds doe flie,

  Doe muffle him againe within them, till at length,

  The storme (preuailing still with an vnusuall strength)

  His cleerenesse quite doth close, and shut him vp in night:

  So mightie Warwicke fares in this outragious fight.

  The cruell Lyons thus inclose the dreaded Beare,

  Whilst Montacute, who striues (if any helpe there were)

  To rescue his belou’d and valiant brother, fell:

  The losse of two such spirits at once, time shall not tell;

  The Duke of Somerset, and th’Earle of Oxford fled,

  And Excester being left for one amongst the dead,

  At length recouering life, by night escap’d away,

  Yorke neuer safely sat, till this victorious day.

  Thus Fortune to his end this mightie Warwicke brings

  This puisant setter vp, and plucker downe of Kings.

  He who those battels wonne, which so much blood had cost,

  At Barnets fatall fight, both Life and Fortune lost.

  Now Tewksbury it rests, thy storry to relate,

  Thy sad and dreadfull fight, and that most direfull Fate

  Of the Lancastrian Line, which hapned on that day,

  Fourth of that fatall Month, that still-remembred May:

  Twixt Edmund that braue Duke of Somerset, who fled

  From Barnets bloody field, (againe there gathering head)

  And Marquesse Dorset bound in blood to ayd him there,

  With Thomas Courtney Earle of powerfull Deuonshire:

  With whom King Henries sonne, young Edward there was seene,

  To claime his doubtlesse right, with that vndaunted Queene

  His mother, who from France with succours came on land

  That day, when Warwicke at , which now stand,

  Their fortune yet to trie, vpon a second fight.

  And Edward who imploy’d the vtmost of his might,

  The poore Lancastrian part (which he doth eas’ly feele,

  By Warwicks mightie fall, already faintly reele)

  By Battell to subuert, and to extirpe the Line;

  And for the present act, his army doth assigne

  To those at Barnet field so luckily that sped;

  As Richard late did there, he here the Vaward led,

  The Maine the King himselfe, and Clarence tooke to guide;

  The Rearward as before by Hastings was supplide.

  The Army of t
he Queene, into three Battels cast,

  The first of which the Duke of Somerset, and (fast

  To him) his brother Iohn doe happily dispose;

  The second, which the Prince for his owne safety chose

  The Barons of Saint Iohn, and Wenlocke; and the third,

  To Courtney that braue Earle of Deuonshire referd.

  Where in a spacious field they set their Armies downe;

  Behind, hard at their backes, the Abbey, and the Towne,

  To whom their foe must come, by often banks and steepe,

  Through quickset narrow Lanes, cut out with ditches deepe,

  Repulsing Edwards power, constraining him to prooue

  By thundring Cannonshot, and Culuering to remooue

  Them from that chosen ground, so tedious to assayle;

  And with the shot came shafts, like stormy showres of Hayle:

  The like they sent againe, which beat the other sore,

  Who with the Ordnance stroue the Yorkists to outrore,

  And still make good their ground, that whilst the Peeces play,

  The Yorkists hasting still to hand-blowes, doe assay,

  In strong and boystrous crowds to scale the combrous Dykes;

  But beaten downe with Bills, with Poleaxes, and Pykes,

  Are forced to fall off; when Richard there that led

  The Vaward, saw their strength so little them to sted,

  As he a Captaine was, both politique and good,

  The stratagems of warre, that rightly vnderstood,

  Doth seeme as from the field his forces to withdraw.

  His sudden, strange retire, proud Somerset that saw,

  (A man of haughtie spirit, in honour most precise;

  In action yet farre more aduenturous then wise)

  Supposing from the field for safetie he had fled,

  Straight giueth him the chase; when Richard turning head,

  By his incounter let the desperate Duke to know,

  Twas done to traine him out, when soone began the show

  Of slaughter euery where; for scarce their equall forces

  Began the doubtfull fight, but that three hundred horses,

  That out of sight this while on Edwards part had stayd,

  To see, that neere at hand no ambushes were layd,

  Soone charg’d them on the side, disordring quite their Ranks,

  Whilst this most warlike King had wonne the climing Banks,

  Vpon the equall earth, and comming brauely in

  Vpon the aduerse power, there likewise doth begin

  A fierce and deadly fight, that the Lancastrian side,

  The first and furious shocke not able to abide

  The vtmost of their strength, were forced to bestow,

  To hold what they had got; that Somerset below,