EDWARDUS III. D.G. ANGLIAE ET FRANCIAE REX DOMINVS HIBERNIAE  
EDWARD the III King of England and France Lord of Ireland. He reigned 50 years, 5 more: He died at the manor of Shene in Surrey 1377 and lieth buried at Westminster  
The Victorious REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD. Written in seven Books.  
By his Majesty's Command.  
Tu mihi, tu Pallas, Caesariana veni. Matt.  
LONDON: Printed for T. Walkley, and B. Fisher, and are to be sold at the sign of the Talbot, without Aldersgate. 1635.   

TO THE MOST HIGH AND MIGHTY MONARCH, CHARLES, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN, FRANCE, AND IRELAND, DEFENDER OF THE FAITH, etc.  
SIR,  
I Should have humbly craved your Majesty's pardon for my omission of the latter part of King Edward's Reign, but that the sense of mine own defects have put me in mind of a more necessary suit, to beg forgiveness for that part of it whichiss here written. For I am not so presumptuously vain, when I consider either the Dignity of your Office, or the Virtues of your Person, as to imagine that any writing from my unworthy self can be either too short, oer enough elegant to be presented to your sacred hand. For should your Majesty vouchsafe to read it, as the precious hours of so great a Monarch (which maáe Horace affect shortness to Augustus Caesar) would tell me the Poem were too too long; so the judicious Censure of so wise a Prince would make me tremble at the defects of it. Those defects (whatsoever they be) can be imputed only to insufficiency; for neither was there Argument wanting, nor yet endeavour, since I had the Actions of a great King to require my skill, and the Command of a greater King to oblige my care. Those great Actions of Edward the Third are the Argument of this Poem; which is there ended, where his fortune began to decline, where the French by revolts and private practices regained that, which had been won from them by eminent and famous victories: which times may afford fitter observations for an acute Historian in Prose, than strains of height for an Heroic Poem. Your gracious Pardon only can rectify what may be amiss in my unworthy and imperfect labour. In hope of which I humbly cast both it and myself at your Majesty's feet, beseeching Almighty God to bless you with a long and happy Reign on earth, and after to crown you with incorruptible glory. So prayeth  
Your Majesty's Most humble Subject and Servant, THO. MAY,   

I have perused this Book, and conceive it very worthy to be published.  
IO. COKE, Knight, Principal Secretary of State. Whitehall, 17. of November, 1634.   

THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.  
The first Book.  
Argument I.  

Edward the third is crowned; a bootless war  
'Gainst Scotland made: ambitious Mortimer  
At Nottingham surprised in all his glory.  
Carnarvan Edward's lamentable story.   

THe third & greatest Edward's reign we sing,  
The high achievements of that martial King,  
Whose long successful prowess did advance  
So many trophies in triumphed France,  
And first her golden Lilies bare; who o'er  
Pyrenes Mountains to that Western shore,  
Where Tagus tumbles through his yellow sand  
Into the Ocean, stretched his conquering hand.   

The second Edward (while disloyal hate  
Vn justly strove to cure the wounds of state,  
And sadly punish, to this Nations stain,  
The grievances of his misgoverned reign)  
Was now deposed from the Regal throne;  
To which the Son is chosen, and upon  
His Father's ruins is compelled to rise;  
As if by that the envious Destinies  
Meant to allay this Edward's glorious reign,  
As loath to suffer England to obtain  
So great a blessing at the lawful time,  
Or such a Prince without a public crime:  
For which the Land must after suffer, by  
A rent so made in his Posterity.  
Young Edward's age may plead his innocence,  
And free his fame from this unkind offence:  
He did receive not seize the royal crown,  
Which other men's disloyalty had thrown  
Too soon on him: nor could an actor be  
In his devested father's injury.  
But to employ the new-established state  
In foreign action, and to vindicate  
The Kingdom's honour 'gainst that enemy  
A war on Scotland they at first decree:  
Fresh were the causes of it; deep and sad  
Remained those wounds that warlike Bruce had made,  
And that great loss which England had sustained  
While her unhappy second Edward reigned.   

This expedition that did bootless prove  
To England's ends, served only to remove  
The young King's person, and his court so far,  
(Whilst every thought was busied in the war)  
That murderous Treason, who still shuns the light,  
From Hell's black shades might take his dismal flight,  
And work, without the search of curious eye,  
Deposed Edward's woeful tragedy.  
But while this execrable murder here  
Was wrought upon his person, fruitless were  
Th'attempts 'gainst Scotland, that the young King made▪  
The same proud traitor Mortimer betrayed  
His Country's honour there; and let the foes,  
Whom that great English army did enclose  
At Stanhop Park, retire in safety thence.  
By him the Kingdomelost a wars expense;  
And that brave Prince, for triumphs borne, to whom  
Fate owed so many victories to come,  
Of his first actions honour was deprived.  
But this, perchance, the pitying fates contrived  
T'appease, oh murdered Edward! thy sad ghost;  
That England's state by his corruption crossed  
Might feel thy traitor to be hers, and know  
Who killed his King, would prove his Country's foe.  
This to thy just revenge must make the way.  
Forgive the powers above, though they delay  
A while, that certain punishment they owe  
To guilt; let Fortune have a time to show  
Her power in raising, and how long she can  
In spite of justice guard a wicked man,  
Till she have made him high enough to be  
A fit and hated sacrifice for thee.   

Ambitious Mortimer, who reigned alone  
In Isabella's misled affection;  
And with the beauties of that Queen (as Dower  
To them) enjoyed almost a Regal power,  
Had like an high-swollen and impetuous tide  
Borne all before him, raised to such a pride  
As did his own approaching ruin show,  
And draw it on: Plethorike bodies so,  
From whence diseases of themselves do breed,  
The seeds of death in that strong fullness feed.  
The greatest Nobles now begin to fear,  
And therefore hate the power of Mortimer.  
They that had joined with his attempts before,  
And helped to work them out, do now abhor  
To see the fruit on him alone to fall.  
And though at first they do not look at all  
Upon his wicked deeds, but high estate,  
And not his vices but great power do hate:  
At last, through that, his vices they survey.  
For justice Envy must prepare the way.   

But nothing thence fears his aspiring mind;  
For Fortune, like herself, does ever blind  
Her favourites; who ne'er decline at all  
Their envied height until they ruined fall.  
Nor ought does he in their repining see  
But his own greatness and selicity,  
Swelled with that flattering distance; proud to move  
Their fear, and would not change it for their love,  
Till those distasteful courses, that did seem  
To prop his state, wrought on to ruin him.   

Fair Nottingham, the theatre, where all  
His pomp is showed, must show his sudden fall.  
No scene of Fortune in so short a space  
Presented ever a more changed face;  
Nor more amazed spectators hearts, than here  
Did this quick-turning fate of Mortimer,  
So far beyond what any could surmise  
They scarce dare trust the witness of their eyes.  
Such hidden paths do God's high judgements tread,  
That ere the pride of wicked men can dread  
Their near approach, they feel the fatal blow.  
His ruin is contrived; young Edward now,  
Whose manly thoughts are riper than his years,  
Had with a number of his stoutest Peers,  
And saithful servants, cast a venturous way  
In spite of all his guards, to seize the prey.  
Night is th'appointed time for their design;  
And now the golden Phoebus began decline  
Unto the West, that young courageous Lord  
The noble Montague (whose prosperous sword  
In foreign parts hereafter shall deserve  
So well, and early here begins to serve  
His Prince at home) a chief assistant now  
To young King Edward in the overthrow  
Of Mortimer, was in his house alone  
Retired; his youthful thoughts still fixed upon  
Th'achievement; tedious seemed the hours of light  
To him, and slow th'approach of dusky night.   

His trusty arms with various carving wrought,  
And glittering sword two nimble Pages brought;  
Which whilst with care they buckle on, at door  
A knock is heard. Sir Thomas de la Moor,  
A Knight well known to noble Montague,  
And welcome still, that long had been a true  
And faithful servant to that woeful Prince  
Carnarvan Edward, and had ever since  
His Lords accursed murder, mourning spent  
His days, and prayers to God's high throne had sent,  
Imploring justice for so black a crime.  
His presence is admitted, though the time  
And action greatest secrecy require.  
To whom, while gazing he did seem t'admire  
Those arms, thus spoke the gallant Montague;  
Ah think not, De la Moor, that vengeance due  
To wicked men can be for ever stayed;  
Or that bright justice should be still afraid  
To draw her sword▪ three Summer now have past,  
Thrice has the painted pride of Flora graced  
Earth's joyful bosom; thrice has winter's rain  
Bereaved her of that verdant dress again,  
Since we (oh shame) have not disdained to bear  
The yoke of that proud traitor Mortimer,  
And England suffered his usurped reign.  
To guard his pride, and fill his pompous train,  
Where ninescore Knights attend his gaudy state,  
The Royal patrimonies spent of late.  
That wealth, that noble Edward should possess,  
His mother holds, whose unjust Dower no less  
Contains (should all the Crown revenues be  
But rightly valued) then two parts of three.  
And what she holds, false Mortimer enjoys;  
Who linked too near in love with her, destroys  
Not only her revenues, but her fame,  
And brands the kingdom with another shame.  
One Port, one undistinguished house with her  
Her saucy Minion keeps; one Caterer  
With equal price and privilege does buy  
Provision for that ill-joyned family.   

So is their state in all as man and wife  
To open view; and for their secret life,  
How free the bed has been, ere long (they say)  
Her teeming womb will to the world betray.  
Nor is this all the sieknesse of the time,  
Great Edward's honour is eclipsed by him;  
Who long has ruled the Land, whilst we afraid  
Of that usurped power, perforce obeyed.  
And fatal 'twas to contradict at all.  
What else so lately caused the pitied fall  
Of noble Edmund Earl of Kent, who died  
A sacrifice to Mortimer's stern pride,  
And Isabellaes' lawless power? nor could  
(Though Edward's Uncle) his high birth and blood  
Protect his life. This hapless Prince, abused  
By their delusions, his best means had used  
To help (not knowing he before was slain)  
Deposed Edward to the crown again.  
Ah De la Moor, the wondering people saw  
That Prince condemned by their tyrannic law,  
Five hours together on a scaffold stand.  
Nor all that while found they so base a hand  
That would be hired, until the Sun was set,  
To shed the blood of a Plantagenet.  
What need I speak those treasons, which of late  
He wrought for Scotland 'gainst the English state?  
What bribe's he thence received, to betray  
His Country's honour? which he now shall pay.  
How two years since he drew the Parliament  
Held at Northampton then, to give consent  
That peace with Scotland should be ratified  
So prejudicial to the English side.  
In which those famous Rolls, that did contain  
Their homage to this Sceptre, were again  
Given up; and all those jewels of renown  
And price, that did belong to Scotland's crown,  
And thence by former English Kings were ta'en,  
Were at this peace delivered back again.  
Which by a marriage was confirmed; and joan  
King Edward's sister was bestowed upon  
Young David Bruce, their King. Fates can defer  
No longer now th'account of Mortimer.  
Nor does our brave young Edward fear to call  
The traitor to a trial; nor shall all  
His train defend him; nor the strength of that  
Fair Castle there, in which with wanton state  
His beauteous Queen and he their revels keep;  
And there by night securely guarded sleep.  
Nor can their pride allow (they filling all)  
The King a room within his Castle wall:  
A meaner lodging in the town, alas,  
Must serve the King: but ere this night do pass,  
The Castle shall be his again; and there  
Shall rising Phoebus see proud Mortimer  
A prisoner, where now he reigns; whilst all  
The Land shall wonder at his sudden fall;  
Or else the blood that feeds this life, shall flow  
Upon you stained earth: but ere I show  
To thee the way that Edward has designed,  
Do thou relate what yet remains behind  
Of Mortimer's foul crimes, which thou so well  
Hast learned, which I in part have heard thee tell,  
And at each accent passionately sigh,  
The late King Edward's ruthful tragedy.  
Though sad the story be, 'twill take up time  
Until that hour that must revenge the crime  
Do call us hence. Lord Montague had done,  
When thus (deep sighing) De la Moor begun.   

` Since you command, my Lord, I will recite,  
(Though still I tremble to remember it)  
That ruth that never found a parallel,  
That story, that no eloqvence can tell  
In accents sad enough, no mourning line  
Express, although the saddest Muse of nine  
Melpomene should search through all her store,  
And tune her tragic lessons over and over,  
When all those baleful mischiefs she has sought  
That barbarous Thrace, that Thebes and Argos wrought,  
A sadder story she did ne'er relate  
Then was Carnarvan Edward's tragic fate.   

While this deposed unhappy Prince remained  
In Killingworth fair Castle entertained  
In gentle manner by his kinsman there,  
The noble Henry, Earl of Lancaster,  
In part he seemed to enjoy content.  
(If after loss of Regal government  
Content can come) the courteous Earl still shows  
Himself compassionate of Edward's woes,  
And in the noblest manner lessons them;  
That he almost could have forgot t'esteem  
Those vain past glories, if the tyrant Love  
Had not in prison found him out, to move  
His more disquiet: th'absence of the Queen,  
From whose desired embraces he had been  
So long divorced, does now afflict his mind,  
That she should prove so cruelly unkind  
To his dejected state, as to deny  
Her presence now, which in prosperity,  
While crown and sceptre he possessed, above  
The joys of sceptre or of crown did love.   

Who would believe fond love could give a wound  
So deep, as might 'mongst all those woes be found?  
He that had lost the glories of a crown,  
And fell from that transcendent honour down  
To fortunes lowest wretched'st step, can he  
Be sensible of love's calamity?  
'Mongst all his sad distempers, must that be  
Predominant, and greatest malady?  
Such is the power, or the unhappy fate  
Of love, as deepest felt in wretched state,  
So can it cross the best prosperity,  
And sour all other joys, though ne'er so high.  
The happiest Monarch, that may seem possessed  
Of all earth's joys, with wealth, fame, honour blessed,  
Yet if he want the object that he loves,  
No banquets please, no air of Music moves  
Delight; he sits uneasy on his throne,  
And seems, in midst of his rich court, alone.  
How short are sweets of love enjoyed? how vain,  
Compared to a star-crossed lover's pain?  
But such in all we are; nor can we so  
Esteem our good, as we can feel our woe.  
The best degree of health cannot content  
Frail man so much, as sickness can torment.   

How oft have they that did associate  
This woeful Prince in his dejected state,  
Herd him those amorous passions to disclose,  
Though armed with patience 'gainst all other woes?  
How oft in lamentable notes would he,  
Like mourning Orpheus for Eurydice,  
Complain, and move the hearers with his moans,  
As Orpheus did the trees and senseless stones?  
But all in vain, like him; no more was she  
To be recalled, then was Eurydice.  
Oft would he vow how constant he had been  
To his beloved, but now too cruel Queen;  
That never flame had scorched him, but from her.  
These passions moved the Noble Lancaster,  
Whose true and gentle soul abhorred to see  
A love so fervent, and so just, to be  
Repaid with scornful spite; and to the Queen  
He signifies what he had heard and seen.  
But what effects in her stern breast it wrought,  
What mischiefs on poor Edward's head it brought  
Let them imagine, who did ever know  
What misled women's wild desires will do,  
When they extremely do or lust or loath,  
Cruel alike, alike unjust in both,  
And from their worst desires most hardly changed.  
Her heart from Edward was too far estranged  
To yield to pity; for the love she owed  
To him, had she on Mortimer bestowed.  
And now that wrong that was begun, must be  
Made perfect by a greater injury.  
Remorse can little in such cases move,  
And pity seldom can engender love.  
Now does the fair, but cruel, Queen begin  
To think what courses may secure her sin.  
And fearing, whilst her husband was alive,  
The power of holy Church would make her give  
What nuptial rites were due, to him, since she  
Did wed his person, not his dignity,  
And must be still wife to his meanest state:  
That people would his woes commiserate,  
And her brave son the King, with all the laws  
Of God and man, would favour such a cause.  
While all these doubts within her breast arise,  
She calls (oh partial▪ counsel) to advise  
With her, that wicked Bishop Hereford  
The greatest foe to her unhappy Lord,  
With him proud Mortimer, to whom she gave  
That beauty's use, that Edward ought to have.  
Oh what events could be expected there,  
When such the Queen, and such her counsel were?  
And first to bring their policies to end.  
(As for the young King a safety) they pretend  
The noble Earl of Lancaster to be  
A man unfit for such a charge; that he  
Allowed him greater freedom than would stand  
Well with the peace and quiet of the land;  
That daily tumults might arise, whilst he  
Remained within so loose a custody.  
Then by their power the Earl of Lancaster  
Is strait discharged of his prisoner,  
And to succeed him in that wretched care  
The Lord Matrevers, and Lord Berkley are▪  
Appointed by the Queen's command; and they  
To Berkley Castle carry him away  
From Killingworth; but noble Berkley shows  
Himself compassionate of Edward's woes,  
And uses him in more respective wise  
Then was allowed by his stern enemies.  
Lord Berkley therefore is discharged from  
His Gaolers office too; and in his room,  
To serve the utmost of their dire intent  
Hell finds them out a cursed instrument,  
Sir Thomas Gurney, a fit man to be  
Joined with Matrevers in that treachery,  
As great a stain to Knighthood, as the base  
Matrevers was to honourable race.  
These men for flattery and hire could show  
More cruelty than hate itself would do,  
And so afflict his heart, as Hereford  
And Mortimer▪ (perchance) would have abhorred,  
If they themselves had seen these monsters foul  
Demeanour to him: they torment his soul  
With all opprobrious words, all spites that can  
Be thought, or thrown upon a wretched man,  
In hope to end his life; no rest, no food,  
When Edward wished to have it, was allowed,  
To make him feel his wretched fall, how low  
The man that tumbles from a throne, may go,  
To let him know how great a change the state  
Of mortal man may suffer, and what fate,  
When she would seek extremities, can do.  
Instead of Kingly cates they nought allow  
But what they know is most distasteful meat;  
Instead of rich perfumes and odours fet  
From farthest lands to feast a Prince his scent:  
These cruel fiends (oh cursed punishment)  
Dead carrions round about his lodging strew,  
To kill his spirits and stifle nature so.  
Instead of Musics gentle air, t'invite  
Soft sleep, and charm his senses with delight:  
A spiteful Drum was beat, to reave his rest,  
And banish sleep from that afflicted breast.  
All which by strength of nature he sustains,  
Preserved (alas) to feel more horrid pains.  
Why, miscreants, do you torment him so,  
Yet not your own, but others mischiefs do?  
You in this action are not principal.  
While Edward reigned, he wronged not you at all.  
His threats, like Hereford, you did not fear,  
Nor court his beauteous Queen like Mortimer.  
How base it is for men of name to be  
The instruments of others villainy!  
Then lest some plot for his delivery  
His friends might lay, these Gaolers cunningly  
By night would often carry him abroad,  
And often change the place of his abode:  
First to Corfe Castle, and to Bristol thence▪  
Where, when the villains had intelligence  
Some Burghers pitying his aggrievances  
Would rescue, and transport him o'er the Seas:  
They durst no longer in that place detain  
Their woeful prisoner: but back again  
To Berkley Castle in the dead of night  
Removed him thence: pale Cynthia lent her light  
As if to give some comfort to his way.  
Along the Meads, and marish grounds, that lay  
By Severnes side, they came: where (oh sad crime  
Of fate) another means to torture him  
The monsters found; for fear some troop might pa●●  
By chance that knew this woeful Prince his face,  
And rescue him, his board and hair they meant  
To shave away; and for that dire intent  
By Severnes side enforced him to alight,  
And on the ground to sit: cold was the night;  
March then began, and frosts, like pearls, around  
Lay glistering on the surface of the ground.  
No other water, while they shave their Lord,  
Have they, but what the river can afford;  
Who seems from their unhallowed hands to flee,  
As loathe his pure and crystal stream should be  
Abused so; that sacred head whereon  
The holy oil was poured forth. Upon  
Whose temples once the royal Diadem  
Of England stood, is there profaned by them.  
That face, where Majesty so lately sat,  
Whose frown the greatest nobles trembled at,  
With impious hands do they disfigure now,  
The whilst the waters cold torments him too.  
But he with patience armed, or so great  
A spirit, as scorned such Villains to entreat,  
Utters no more but thus; yet while you shave,  
In spite of you I'll some warm water have:  
With that the tears flowed down his cheeks amain  
Some servants, that stood by, could not refrain  
From melting grief; but Gurney and the rest  
With bitter taunts do more and more molest  
His soul, and all his suffering tears deride.  
With reeds and sedge, that grew on Severne side,  
In scorn their Prince his sacred head they crown;  
And whilst with laughter lowly bowing down  
They strive to make sad Edward feel what he  
Was once, forget what they themselves should be.  
Poor Bischapp then, as Gurney's servant, went  
Among the train (who now apaenitent  
With daily tears and sighs from Gods high throne  
Dooes beg forgiveness for what then was done,  
And fasting lets his beard and hair to grow  
Unshorn, ere since his Lord was ●aved so.  
This Bischapp saw, my Lord, and told it me  
As an eyewitness: will posterity  
Believe this story, that a King (although  
Deposed) from villain's hands could suffer so?  
A King, I say, whose wife did then retain  
The power of Regent, and whose Son did reign?  
But then to heaven let us turn our eyes,  
And think, as God is purposed to chastise,  
So instruments will work; and Furies will  
Be found to execute the worst of ill.   

So much was Edward wronged, that now too late  
It grew, to pity his afflicted state;  
For to secure his foes, his death was sought.  
To Berkley Castle he again was brought,  
Unhappy Berkley damned by Fates to be  
The baleful stage, where such a tragedy  
Was acted, as no ages that succeed  
But shall accurse, no human hearts but bleed  
To hear it told: to make his misery  
Complete, the manner of his death must be  
far worse than death: for, to conceal their own  
Abhorred guilt, and keep the deed unknown,  
A hellish way the catiffes found at length  
To work the murder, mastering him by strength  
A horn they thrust into his fundament,  
And through that pipe into his entrailes sent  
A burning spit: oh what pathetic tongue  
Can tell the pain? his pious soul, whom long  
Afflictions here had mortified, and taught  
On heaven alone to fix his zealous thought,  
From forth the hands of that accursed crew  
Up to the glorious choir of Angels flew.  
No outward signs of murder did appear,  
And of their skill so confident they were,  
That to the people's open view, a day  
The royal coarse in Gloster Abbey lay.  
But guilt of conscience, and a sad dismay  
Upon th'offenders seized, nor durst they stay  
In England long. Matrevers since has spent  
His days (they say) a weeping penitent  
In Germany. False Gurney as he crossed  
The Seas of late, was taken there and lost  
His head, as we have had intelligence,  
Too small a vengeance for his foul offence.  
The next revenge (oh murdered Lord) for thee  
I hope the fall of Mortimer will be.   

And now so far had their discourses gone,  
That day was vanished, and the hour drew on,  
Which for the King's design was set; from whom  
A trusted squire to Montague was come  
Armed, as he was, the youthful Lord arose,  
And forth with courage flew; the like did those  
That were alike engaged: a gallant band  
About the person of their Prince they stand.  
'Mongst whom brave Edward in rich armour dight  
His early manhood shows: with such a bright  
Heröike visage does the blue-eyed maid  
Appear, in all her warlike tire arreyed.  
For yet no golden down had cloth d his chin,  
Nor twice nine painted Summers had he seen.  
And yet those young, those maidlike frowns, as there  
They showed, the Genius of great France might fear:  
Much more in them the sure and present fall  
Of guilty Mortimer was read by all.   

far from-that Castle, on the side of Trent  
A Caves dark mouth was found, of deep descent;  
Upon the brink of which there grew a round  
So close a thicket, as quite hid the ground  
From sight; the Cave could be descried by none,  
And had remain▪ d for many years unknown;  
Whose hollow womb did far from thence extend,  
And underground an uncouth passage lend  
Into the Castle. This dark vault was made  
To serve the Fort, when Danes did first invade  
This fertile Island; now not thought upon,  
For the remembrance, as the use, was gone  
Of such a place, until of late it chanced  
Sir Robert Holland to that charge advanced  
Surveying all his Castles nooks, had tried  
That horrid way, and closely certified  
The King the truth of all: with store of light  
The noble troop arrived there by night;  
There void of fear into the dark descent  
With his brave train Heröicke Edward went,  
And through the ragged entrailes of the Cave  
And baleful paths did fierce Rhamnusia wave  
Here flaming brand, to guide their passage right,  
And vanquish all the terrors of the night.  
No damps, no noisome stinks their sense invade;  
Rhamnusia's power expelled them all, and made  
Her Champions pass with fresh and sprightly cheer,  
Those mouldy vaults, and air unstirred, where  
So many years no humane foot had trodden,  
Nor living thing but toads and bats abode.  
Yet full of hazard did th'attempt appear,  
So great a train had pompous Mortimer.  
But they secure of any danger nigh  
Within the Castle some in jollity  
Consumed that hour of night, and some in sleep,  
(For th'earl himself the Castle keys did keep.)  
In such a fearless, but a fatal plight  
The wooden horse surprised old Troy by night.  
Into her chamber the fair Queen was gone,  
Where with her Minion Mortimer alone  
She sat: but not his dearest company,  
Nor loves sweet thoughts, which want to give so high  
A relish to them, now could bring delight.  
They both were sad on that portentous night.  
(The fates it seemed into their souls had sent  
A secret notice of their dire intent)  
Which she could not conceal, nor Mortimer,  
Although he often strove by courting her,  
To hide the inward sadness of his br●●st.  
Carnarvan Edward's Manes had possessed  
The room; and many strange ostents declared  
Th'approaching ruin: in the Castleyard  
The dogs were heard unusually to howl:  
About their windows the ill-boding Owl,  
Night-iars, and shreiches with wide-stretched throats  
From Yews and Holleys sent their baiefull notes.  
And which increased their sad and ominous fears)  
The beauteous Queen relates, while standing tears  
Began to dazzle her bright starry eyes,  
That ghastly dream, that did last night surprise  
Her frighted fancy; Mortioner, quoth she,  
Me thought the sky was wondrous clear, when we  
Together walked in yonder court alone;  
The gentle air seemed undisturbed: anon  
Rose sudden storms, a dark and pitchy cloud  
Obscured heaven's face, and thunder roared aloud:  
The trembling earth about us moved round,  
At last it opened, and from underground  
Rose Edward's pale and dismal ghost, his hand  
Armed with a flaming sword, a threatening band  
Of furies did upon the ghost attend:  
He cried revenge; with that they all 'gan bend  
Their force ' gainstus, and thee, me thought, they flew:  
At which I frighted waked, and hardly knew  
(So great the terror was) whether we were  
Alive or not: Ambitious Mortimer  
Scorning to show from any dream a fear,  
Strove to divert so sad a theme, and cheer  
The Queen with amorous discourse again.  
While thus he flatters his own fate in vain:  
A boisterous noise about the doors they hear;  
The maids without, that waited, shrieked for fear,  
Clashing of steel, and groans of dying men  
Approach d their cares: for in the Lobby then  
Stout Turrington and Nevil both were slain,  
That durst by force resist the armed train:  
And in the chamber, ere the Queen and he  
Had time to doubt what this strange storm should be,  
Sent from the King the armed troops appear,  
By whose command they seize on Mortimer;  
And in an instant hurry him away:  
(For at the Chamber-door did Edward stay)  
The woeful Queen at first amazed stands;  
But quickly recollected wrings her hands,  
striketh her fair breast, and after them she hies  
To the next Lobby, weeps, and kneeling cries,  
Dear Son (for well she knew her Son was there)  
Oh pity, pity gentle Mortimer.  
Let no accusers raise thine anger so;  
Nor wicked counsel make thee prove a foe  
To him that well deserves: oh pull not down  
So true, so strong a pillar of thy crown.  
But when she sees him gone, and no reply  
Vouchsafed to her (for Edward's modesty,  
Because his justice her fond suit denied,  
For fear his tongue should be enforced to chide  
A mother's crime or folly, words forbears)  
A grief too great to be expressed by tears  
Confounds her sense; as in an ecstasy  
She falls to ground, and helpless seems to lie,  
Until the maids and Ladies of her train  
Had to her chamber borne her back again.   

The Castle wholly to the King's command  
Is now reduced, and to his royal hand  
The keys delivered up: nor does he fear  
The great and pompous train of Mortimer;  
They soon submitted when their Lord was ta'en.  
And here seems Edward to begin his reign;  
Henceforth his regal power, his treasury  
Shall be his own; those rays of Majesty  
A subjects greatness shall eclipse no more;  
Nor shall the Land a blazing-star adore  
Instead of trueborn Phoebus: and thus far  
The tragedy of this great Mortimer  
Fair Nottingham began, and opened the way:  
What now remains another place must play:  
The scene from thence to London is removed;  
Where more foul treasons are against him proved,  
More debts than one condemned head could be,  
Or single life enough to satisfy;  
Had not th' opprobrious manner of his fate,  
And that proud height, that pinnacle of state,  
From whence the peoples late astonished eyes  
Had seen him starlike shoot (as from the skies  
Ambitious Phaethon was dinged down  
By joves' revengeful thunder) fully shown  
With what proportion powerful justice can  
Redeem herself against the greatest man:  
And that there's no such envied height at all,  
But she can make it pitied by a fall.  
And now the common Gallows is the place,  
Where this great Lord with shame must end his race  
On earth: and twice did rising Phoebus there  
Behold the body of dead Mortimer  
To all a scorned spectacle remain.  
But yet thus much thy memory shall gain  
Of great and tragic fame, that all shall say  
A stranger game did Fortune never play.  
And whensoe'er that fickle goddess glories  
In her proud sportive trophies; when the stories  
Of her most envied favourites are told,  
Who next to Kings and Emperors did hold  
The Helm, and keep the nearest rooms in state:  
When Plautianus greatness we relate  
With his so sudden ruin: when we tell  
How once great Rome's adored Sejanus fell:  
Or how Ruffinus torn and mangled died  
In all the height of his ambitious pride:  
Among those names shalt thou in times to come  
Great Mortimer, fill up a tragic room,  
And in thy story, like to them, shalt be  
A Document to all posterity.   

Annotations upon the first Book.  
ᵃ About the fifth year of King Edward the second his reign, that renowned King of Scotland Robert le Bruce having now over-mastred the opposite faction in his own Nation, and driven out all the English Garrisons left there in possession by Edward the first, had wholly recovered his Kingdom of Scotland; and not so contented, had much endamaged, by often inroads, the Realm of England. To take revenge of him, Edward the second with a wonderful great and rich English army, containing about 80000. invadeth Scotland in his own person, at a place called Bannocks bourn it came to a battle; where the English are discomfited with as great an overthrow as ever they received in any field: six of their greatest Noblemen slain, about 700. Knights and gentlemen of account, besides many noble prisoners taken: about the number of common soldiers slain, the Authors of that time (whether misinformed or partial) most wretchedly disagree, some accounting 10000 some 50000. but how great so ever the number were, no revenge was taken during the whole reign of Edward the second; but the kingdom of England in many ensuing actions suffered much from the hands of Robert le Bruce: the fortune of war running all on that side while he lived.  
ᵇ While deposed Edward was miserably murdered in Berkley Castle, the young King was upon the borders of Scotland with a puissant army: and having environed the Scots (who had entered England with invasive arms) in the woods of Wiredale and Stanhop park, and stopped up all passages, made sure account of victory: but by the treason of the Lord Mortimer (for which he was afterwards among other things accused and condemned) after they had lodged there fifteen days, and began to feel much want, they were suffered to escape: and the young King lost his first enterprise, besides the expense of much treasure, and a wonderful danger of his own person: for Sir james Douglas, a valiant servant of King Robert le Bruce, with 200. light horses assailed the Kings own pavilion, where the King was so near death, that a Chaplain of his, who stoutly behaved himself, was slain in his Master's defence; and Sir james retired from thence with safety.  
ᶜ All the Authors of that time do generally agree concerning the greatness of Roger Mortimer, his power in state, his pompous attendance, and haughty carriage of all business; as likewise the greatness of the Queen's Dower, and her familiarity with that Lord: which offending (as needs it must) the rest of the Nobility, I thought it not so fit to be barely related in the Author's person, as by the way of speech to proceed angrily from the mouth of that brave Lord Montague, who was, by the consent of those writers, a special assistant to King Edward in the surprising of Mortimer: and such particulars as concern the lamentable murder of that deposed King, to proceed from his servant Sir Thomas de la Moor, who accordingly wrote the story of it.    

THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.  
The second Book.  
Argument II.  

King Edward's homage to the King of France.  
He claims that Crown: his friends and puissance.  
Sicilia's King foretells the misery  
Of France. King Edward's Naval victory.   

NOt yet had Edward in his active mind  
The claim and conquest of great France designed,  
Nor looked abroad: domestic business  
Employed his early manhood; the redress  
Of those distempers which had grown at home,  
Too great for any youth to overcome  
But such a youth as his, had yet detained  
His spirit there; when Fate, that had ordained  
Through fire and sword the miseries of France,  
Finds out a means to wake the puissance  
Of this victorious Prince, and make him know  
That fatal title that had slept till now.  
Philip of France but newly crowned, and not  
Content in rest to hold what he had got  
Upon a doubted title, nor abate  
The least and strictest circumstance of state,  
Which might belong to that high crown he wore,  
In punctual manner summons Edward over,  
For Guyennes Dukedom, which he held, to do  
His personal homage; nor did Edward, though  
Filled with disdain and manly rage, refuse  
To come: fair Amiens is the place they choose;  
In whose Cathedral Church King Philip sat.  
Oh who can tell what pomp and wondrous state  
Was showed at this so great solemnity:  
How many noble Peers and Princes, high  
In blood and fame, did there attendance give;  
And in their best attires and lustres strive  
To grace the crown of France and Philip's state.  
Under a wealthy Canopy he sat,  
His robe of colour like the violet  
With golden flower de luces all beset  
With crowned head and sceptered hand, to take  
That low obeisance th'English King should make:  
The Kings of Boheme and Navarre were by  
Placed as spectators of his dignity.   

Unhappy Philip, boast not this vain state,  
Which bleeding France shall buy at dearest rate.  
Why dost thou fond show to Edward's eyes  
That wealth, that must hereafter be his prize?  
And by those gorgeous splendours, teach so great  
A spirit as his, what value he should set  
Upon thy Kingdom's conquest? those thy Peers,  
That proudly face him now, ere many years  
Do turn again, shall in their ruin be  
Sad monuments of Edward's victory.  
And mourning see, though now he seem to low,  
His real honour in thine overthrow.  
Bohemia's King (oh ominous) whose eye  
This shadow sees of Philip's dignity,  
In Philip's fall a tragic part must play,  
And as a trophy to remain for aye,  
To Edward's conquering hands must dying yield  
His glittering plume in Cressyes' fatal field.   

The English King to Philip's royal seat  
Makes fair approach, attended with a great  
And gallant train of Peers, whose bright array  
The wealth and pomp of England did display.  
A gown of crimson Velvet Edward wore  
With golden Leopards all embroidered over.  
His well-becoming sword was guirded on,  
And spurs of gold about his ankles shone;  
Upon his head stood England's diadem:  
And such did his Heroic presence seem,  
As in the French men's hearts, although that there  
He came with peace, did strike a silent fear.  
So much unlike his Princely looks did show  
To that low action that he came to do.   

Thus coming before Philip's chair he stands;  
Melun the Chamberlain of France commands  
To doff his royal Crown, his Spurs and Sword,  
And bids him kneel to Philip, as the Lord  
Supreme of all those Aquitanian lands;  
Then 'twixt King Philip's puts King Edward's hands,  
Declaring the Oath; then Edward gives a kiss  
To Philip sitting, as the manner is.  
The King of France rejoicing in this vain  
Shadow of Majesty, to entertain  
His royal Leigeman makes a sumptuous feast.  
Put deep in Edward's young, and fiery breast  
Remains the thought of this indignity;  
Which, though a while it smothered seem to lie,  
Breaks out in such a flame, as long in vain  
The neighbour Princes strive to quench again,  
Until Revenge had given to France as sad  
And great a wound as ere that Kingdom had.  
But to attempt the conquest of so great,  
So populous a land as France, and set  
The title that he had on foot, required  
Strong preparations: the young King retired  
To England, in his eager thoughts revolues  
This weighty cause; and though the great resolves  
Of his undaunted spirit ore-master all  
The difficulties, that were like to fall:  
Yet fitting time must be allowed, to make  
Confaederacies of import, and take  
Fair opportunities. The fates afford  
Occasions strait to flesh his conquering sword  
In Scotland wounds; whose miseries must be  
The prologue to great France her tragedy.   

Ballioll unhappy to his nation,  
Was now returned to challenge Scotland's crown,  
(While young King David did abide in France)  
Which soon he gained by Edward's puissance.  
Whose prosperous valour, first at Berwicke town,  
Then in that famed defeat at Halidowne,  
In which so many valiant Scots were slain,  
Appeared; and seemed to quit that blow again,  
Which, whilst his father second Edward reigned,  
England from Bruce his warlike hand sustained.   

Enough had these victorious wars declared  
Great Edward's prowess, and enough prepared  
His martial thoughts for France; when Fates conspire  
To bring fresh fuel to this raging fire.  
For discontented from his native home  
To England Robert of Artois was come,  
His Country's firebrand, one that well had learned  
King Edward's mind, and well his spirit discerned▪  
So do the people's shouts encourage more  
A fierce Olympic Steed, that strove before  
To force the lists, and break th' opposing bars:  
As this young fiery King too prone to wars  
Before, is now by his incitements moved.  
So 'gainst his Rome bold Curio's language proved,  
When with the Tribunes banished, he was come  
To armed Caesar at Ariminum.  
Curio by death prevented could not see  
What he had wrought, his Country's misery;  
Whose slaughtered carcase strewed the field, a prey  
To Lybian birds, before that tragic day  
His Caesar conquered on Pharsaliaes' plains.  
How like a fate for thee, Artois, remains?  
Thou shalt not see thy Country's greatest woe,  
Nor Edward's bays in Philip's overthrow.  
Thy death shall first in Britain's wars be wrought  
Before that Crescyes' mortal field be fought:  
And ere that Poitiers wondrous battle fame  
Black Edward's sword, be nothing but a name  
As much by France accursed in times to come,  
As Curio his by his afflicted Rome.   

This stirring Frenchman Edward joys to see,  
And honours him with Richmond's signiory.  
Then o'er the Seas to Antwerp, to provide  
Confederacies to support his side,  
He sails in person with his Queen and Son;  
Where what Queen Philip's father had begun  
(The noble William Heinaults Earl, to draw  
Those Germane Dukes to his great son in law)  
King Edward's royal presence in their land  
Soon brings to pass: the Dukes of Gelderland  
And Brabant join with him: and to his side  
The potent Flemings too (though strongly tied  
By oath and obligation to the Crown  
Of France) by james of Artevile are won▪  
Nor were their oaths and obligations broke;  
For noble Edward, to preserve them, took  
Upon himself the style and arms of France,  
And on his royal Standard did advance  
The Flower deleces: thence he passed the Rhine,  
And there with speed did to his party join  
The potent Prelate, that did then the land  
Of Agrippina's Colony command  
There did Bavarian Lewis the Emperor  
Bestow on Edward, more to same his power,  
An office high, creating him o'er all  
The Roman Empire Vicar general.  
Though soon unconstant Lewis did revoke  
That grant; and to his own dishonour took  
The side of France; that men might after know  
By Edward's conquest, Philip's overthrow,  
That Lewis the Roman Emperor could be  
Nor useful friend, nor hurtful enemy.  
No less does Philip labour to advance  
His strength by leagues; and to his wealthy France  
The power of many foreign Princes draw:  
With him the two great Dukes of Austria,  
And the old warlike King of Boheme join,  
With Cassimere th'▪ Elector Palatine:  
And in this heat on either side too soon  
By little sparkles is the fire begun.   

Pope Benedict, now summers gaudy pride  
Had his belov d Avignion beautify d,  
With all the Court resided there to whom  
Those Lords that saught the peace of Christendom  
(Which as they justly fear d, would by the war  
Of these two Monarches be engaged too far)  
Resorted thither daily to complain.  
The Pope himself was grieved that he in vain  
Had by his Legates often strived of late  
To reconcile the Kings: that fresh debate  
Was nourished daily, and that either Land  
Had felt already wars ungentle hand:  
That Philip's royal Navy, which had been  
Prepared for pious wars in Palestine  
To free th'afflicted Christians of the East,  
Was now so ill diverted, to infest  
The shores of England: sometimes would he chide  
King Edward's heat, and too ambitious pride  
That durst make such a claim, or hope at all  
That he could conquer with a strength so small  
So great a land, so rich a crown, from one  
That had already firm possession:  
Sometimes again would he expostulate  
'Gainst Philip's punctual and vainglorious state,  
That Edward's strictest homage would require,  
And tease a spirit active as the fire.  
One Prince in virtue, as in honour, high  
Robert the learned King of Sicily  
Was then in person at Avignion.  
Whose skill, discerning every motion  
Aspect, and powerful influence of the stars,  
Foresaw th' event of these so tragic wars,  
And wailed the woes that France would suffer thence.  
Of that the Pope desired intelligence.  
About his chair the revered College sat;  
By whom the King was placed in fitting state.  
When thus the Pope bespoke him; Royal Son,  
Since well we know your good intention,  
And can no less commend your pious will  
To end these wars, than we admire that skill,  
By which your noble souls delighted eye  
Takes wise survey of all the starry sky;  
And in that glorious book the future fates  
Of men can read, and change of greatest states:  
And shall we think the stars would ever show  
What shall betide mortality, if now  
They would be silent in so great a war,  
(If this great war proceed) that does so far  
Engage the shaken state of Christendom,  
And look so full of tragic threats? on whom,  
If they neglect a state so eminent  
As France or England, can they be intent?  
Unto our cares declare, renowned d King,  
What strange effects these stars are like to bring▪  
For we allow that Christian use may be  
Made of predictions by Astrology.  
Let dim-eyed heathens count it double woe  
When future fates they are enforced to know,  
Who think the stars no higher power obey,  
And judgements unavoidable, which they  
Denounce 'gainst mortal men; which when they hear,  
Their hopes are fled, and they can only fear.  
But we, that worship his eternal name,  
That rules the stars, that heaven and earth did frame,  
Have learned, that though their usual virtue guide  
The state of earth, and show what shall betide  
(Beyond control of Nature) certain still:  
It is not certain 'gainst his sacred will.  
If not 'gainst him, then why should we despair?  
It is not certain 'gainst a Christians prayer.  
That sacred charm has power to thwart the law  
Which constant Nature strives to keep, to draw  
The moving stars on't of their wont way,  
And in the height of his career to stay  
The glorious Sun himself; which once was done,  
When noble joshuah fought in Gibeon:  
As afterward he was enforced to take  
A backward course for Hezekiah's sake.  
In vain a cause of this great wonder wrought  
Chaldaeaes' wise Astrologers had sought  
To find by Art; for all Arts useless proved  
Until the great Assyrian Monarch moved  
His servants sent to Hezekiah's land.  
The powerful working of so great a hand  
None but inspired Prophets could descry,  
No Oracle but Iuda's Deiry.  
We therefore may believe no stars portent  
Is sure against a Christian penitent.  
Nay more, if penitence have oft controlled  
Those dooms, which sacred Prophets have foretold,  
And could reverse the Lord's severe decree  
Denounced by jonas 'gainst great Ninivee:  
It well may thwart what ere the heavens portend.  
But happy are those threats, when they amend  
The sinful world (made useful so) to be  
A wholesome cure, and not a malady.  
Be therefore pleased, learned Prince to show  
To us what Kingdoms are most threatened now.   

King Robert sighed, since, holy Sir (quoth he)  
You have been pleased to grace Astrology,  
And tell her Christian uses, I shall now  
My good intents with greater freedom show.  
But when I speak of this ensuing war,  
Expect no actions in particular:  
Too dim an eye have we Astrologers  
Too general to search out those; the stars  
Distinctly cannot future things decree,  
Or men's frail skill exactly cannot see.  
Inspired Prophets only that can find,  
Allowed to speak their great Creator's mind.  
Whose eye of Providence counts nothing small,  
As to his power is nothing great at all.  
But thus we find; if this sad war proceed,  
So much, so long unhappy France shall bleed,  
Th' enfeebled Kingdom shall expire, or near  
To utter ruin grow; full fourscore year  
This black and baleful influence shall last.  
Recount, oh France, thy former woes, what wast  
The conquering Romans made, what blood so ere  
The Frankes drew from thee, to inhabit here,  
Or when fierce Rollo with his Danish flood  
Broke in upon thee: to this sea of blood  
'Tis small; and weighed with conquering England's wars,  
Shall be accounted slight and gentle scars.  
Deep, as thy wounds, shall thy dishonour be.  
Alas, how great a map of misery,  
How long a tragic field of war shalt thou  
Rich France become? the pride of Europe now,  
But then the pity of all neighbour Lands?  
Oh do not scorn at English Edward's hands  
On hardest terms a peace to entertain;  
Nor let King Philip strive 'gainst fate in vain.  
No force can there prevail, nor overthrow  
The Martial fame that Destinies do owe  
To Edward's high nativity, for whom  
A glorious thread is spun, such as their loom  
Was proud to see, when those old Worthies came  
Into the world, that with so loud a fame  
Have filled the ears of all posterity.  
Such shall this active Edward prove; as high  
And wondered at, shall be his deeds of war,  
Although his stage cannot extend so far,  
Nor his small Kingdom's forces overrun  
far distant Lands, as did the Macedon,  
Or Rome's proud Sons: his deeds within the bounds  
Of France (excepting Scotland's fatal wounds)  
As mighty trophies, and as great shall gain  
As such a circuit ever did contain.  
And for the several actions of his wars  
(Though I but dimly see particulars)  
Within this spacious Continent, where once  
Great Caesar governed those stout legions,  
Whose strength could after overcome the power  
Of Rome itself, and make him Emperor,  
Let disadvantages of battles be  
Well weighed, the past and present quality  
Of such a foe; the stars to him do give  
As true a fame as Caesar did achieve.  
But such calamities this heart will bleed  
To see; and therefore, holy Sir, with speed  
(If a prevention can at all be had)  
Let your high power be interposed: sad  
Are all that hear the King's predication,  
And think which way they may the strife atone:  
But while they think, thus on the Ocean  
A mighty blow this fatal war began.   

'Slight skirmishes had wounded either side,  
And banished Peace: nor must the cause be tried  
By any judge but Wars uncertain chance.  
Edward already wore the arms of France,  
And in his honour stood engaged to gain  
The Crown he claimed, as Philip to maintain  
That great possession: in their own estates  
Both strong; both powerful in confederates,  
And both alike incensed. But ere rich France  
In her own bosom try the puissance  
Of warlike Edward, she must weeping hear  
Her losses by him, and be taught to fear:  
Or Fortune else was purposed to declare  
How hot, how equal a desire of war  
Both Nations had, that in the middle way  
Would meet the trial, and disdained to stay  
Till either other should at home invade;  
But with their armed Naval forces, made  
Blue Neptune's face the first discoloured stage  
Of war, and Scene of their incensed rage.   

The Fleet of France, so great it was esteemed  
Invindible by England's force, and seemed  
To bear command o'er all those narrow Seas,  
Proud of spoils and wealthy pillages  
Which from sacked Hampton they had brought away,  
Between the Ports of Sluice and Blankebergh lay  
In three fair bodies, led by three, that then  
In naval fights were held the bravest men  
France had, and did in all Sea-arts excel,  
The stout Bahuchet with brave Kiriell,  
And Barbenoire the Genois Admiral.  
So showed their Navy, when conjoined all,  
Men would have thought some forest moved from far,  
When Winter's rage the Pines proud tops did bare,  
Or that the famed Aegaean Cycladeses  
Torn from their roots, had floated on the Seas.   

Upon that coast this hapless Navy lay  
To intercept King Edward in his way  
To Sluice; who now from England had put forth.  
His Fleet, though less in number, yet in worth,  
Fortune and courage greater than the foes,  
Came sailing on. When golden Phoebus rose  
Behind the French, and shooting forth his light  
Displayed the English Navy to their sight.  
The royal Banners to their scouts appear,  
And notice give that England's King is there.  
At which the French are swelled with excess  
Of joy, though false, with golden promises  
Flattering themselves. (How blind are humane eyes!  
How hidden are the path of Destinies!)  
Never did wretches not ordained to see  
The setting Sun, with vainer jollity  
Welcome their ruin, and each other cheer.  
They thank the fates, that had presented there  
The King of England's person, and so great  
A price that day had on their valour set.  
That this great storm, that proudly threatened France,  
Was now committed wholly to the chance  
Of their Sea-fight: that only they should have  
The actions honour, not alone to save  
Their land in war; but keep it from a war,  
And cut off danger ere it came so far.   

Great Edward slowly brings his Navy on,  
Waiting advantage wisely, till the Sun  
Declining Westward at his back might be,  
And dazzle thence the face of th'enemy.  
Although his Soldiers hardly brooked delay;  
So much they longed for trial of the day:  
And in their courages were raised high,  
To think they had so brave a witness by  
As was their King, and such a King as he,  
Who would as well their great example be  
As witness of their deeds. This time of stay  
He spent, to set his Fleet in fair array.  
The middle body he himself maintained,  
In which the great and tallest ships were manned,  
Which choicest Archers held: 'twixt every two  
Of whom, one ship with men of arms did go.  
On either wing loose ships of archers lay,  
On all occasions 'gainst the foe to play.  
The wings themselves with gallant Lords were filled:  
The Earls of Derby, Pembroke, Gloster held  
The right, where Huntingdon commanded all,  
Of England's Southern fleet Lord Admiral.  
Lord Morley Admiral of all the North  
The left wing had, with many Lords of worth:  
Northamptons' Earl, Lord Percy, Delaware,  
And Robert of Artois, who th'honours boar  
Of Richmond's Earldom then, with many more  
Of honoured name and noble service too.  
Heröicke Edward, when both Navies near  
Had made approach, began thus in short to cheer  
His forward Soldiers; It were needless now  
Brave Englishmen, and valiant Lords, to show  
How much depends on this great Naval fight;  
That all the trial of our royal right  
To France, and your rich hopes are lost: undone  
Are all designs, unless this day be won.  
This is the gate of our great enterprise:  
This is that entrance where the danger lies;  
Which if we master now, the future war  
Will prove more easy, as more fruitful far:  
And not a war, but a reward will be,  
And recompense of this day's victory.  
Here let your valour sway wars future chance,  
And, though not conquer, yet dishearten France.  
The Sun and wind are both auspicious  
To us, the channel advantageous.  
With these let us in our own cause appear.  
See what spectators fortune gives us here.  
Oh let our friends the Flemings from the Bays  
Of Sluice and Blankebergh now behold and praise  
Your deeds, and viewing th' English puissance,  
Think themselves happy in forsaking France  
To side with us: but I in vain prolong  
The battle's trial, and your valours wrong  
To keep such eager spirits from action.  
On then brave Soldiers: Scarce had Edward done,  
When the bold English archers with a flight  
Of winged shafts begin the mortal fight.  
The Crossbows answer from the Frenchmens side;  
And through the air does Death in triumph ride  
'twixt both the fleets, while storms of arrows fly,  
And with a fatal darkness cloud the sky.  
All noise of tackle, and shrill trumpets sound  
Is by the louder shouts of soldiers drowned,  
That wound the air; whose strong concussions make  
The hollow parts of Sluice and Blankebergh shake,  
And strike with terror England's Eastern shore.  
Near did blue Neptune on those seas before  
Behold so great, so tragical a fight.  
Oh fates, why was not all great Edward's right  
To France, in this one Naval fury tried?  
But if the mourning land must bleed beside  
In horrid wounds, if Crescyes' mortal day,  
And Poitiers field could not be wiped away  
From th'adamantine book of Destiny▪  
But uncontrolled must there remain, oh why  
Was not this Sea-fight spared? why in vain  
Did so much slaughter the sad Ocean stain?  
The world's imperial wreath was won and lost  
With far less blood than this day's trial cost  
At Leucas battle, whence Antonius, head  
Of half the world, with Cleopatra fled.  
Less slaughter there could that high quarrel try  
Then here could purchase Edward's victory.  
Nor yet, alas, can this so cruel fight  
Determine all, or establish Edward's right.  
By so much blood that Kingdom is not won,  
Nor this great war concluded, but begun.   

Nor now did bows alone maintain the war,  
Or barbed shafts bestowing wounds from far.  
More close together their stern fury meets,  
And with each other grapple both the Fleets,  
With iron hooks and chains to draw more nigh  
Unto themselves their own sad destiny.  
The sword acts freely there; and hand to hand,  
Whilst firmly linked both the Navies stand,  
And without distance cover th' Ocean over.  
Short pikes and bills encountering make a sore  
And mortal fight; no hopes of flight at all.  
Upon the decks the slaughtered bodies fall  
In heaps together; some o'er board are thrown,  
And 'twixt the grappling ships fall dying down,  
As if they strove again to separate  
What was conjoined by so bad a fate.  
Nor did the blood that streamed down apace,  
No more then only stain blue Neptune's face:  
But on the top that aery liquor swum,  
And by itself a crimson sea became,  
And oft to dying men proved mortal too,  
Anticipating what the sea would do,  
When some, that down the ships alive are cast,  
Are choked in blood, ere they the water taste.   

A gallant English ship, the Christopher,  
That had been taken by the French that year,  
Now in the front was placed, bravely manned,  
As if to let the English understand,  
And grieve for what they had so lately lost.  
But dear the French must pay for such a boast.  
The sight of her does not dismay, but whet  
The English courages, who strive to get  
That ship again: her they in fight avail  
With greatest fury, and at last prevail.  
They board the Christopher; the French are killed,  
And she again with English soldiers filled.  
Who now more fiercely fights, as if to be  
Revenged for her late captivity.   

Another warlike English ship, that bore  
The name of Edward, and the year before  
Had from Southampton (like the Christopher)  
Been taken by the French, was fight there.  
'Gainst her the Christopher with fury came.  
Two sister-ships of equal strength, of frame  
Alike they showed; no vantage was in aught,  
Unless that here the French, there th'English fought:  
They join, and grapple with each other close;  
The sword acts all; for useless are their bows,  
And no room left at all for arrow's flight.  
'Twixt no two vessels was so stern a fight;  
Nor English ships so fiercely French invade  
As was the fight, which these, both English, made.  
So hostile souls, when they imprisoned are  
In kindred bodies, make the sharpest war.  
With greatest spleen the Theban brothers fought,  
No Argive soldier 'gainst a Theban brought  
Such perfect hate, as 'twixt the fruit of one  
Divided womb was in that combat shown.  
Long was the fight 'twixt these two vessels tied  
E'er doubting fate the conquest could decide  
At last the English prowess does appear;  
The Edward's boarded by the Christopher,  
(The French within her all captived or slain)  
And to their Nation both restor d again.   

The English Soldiers less in number are,  
But free, and wider on the Ocean far  
Have room to stretch their wings, & keep them even:  
Into the haven's straits the French are driven,  
And so unhappily encumbered there  
They cannot help themselves; the Mariner  
Wants Sea-room to employ his skill aright,  
The Soldier freedom to maintain his fight.  
No part of all the fleet of France was free  
From this encumbrance and perplexity  
But that which Barbenoire of Genoa  
Commanded; he that danger well foresaw,  
And from the haven, when the fight began,  
To gain the freedom of the Ocean,  
Brought out his ships the rest a hapless prey  
Unto their foes, together crowded lay;  
That now it seemed the Sun, the wind, and tide  
Did all assist victorious Edward▪ s side.  
Yet stroveth'unhappy French to sell as dear  
Their lives as that straight place would suffer there:  
With flaming brand the fierce Enyo flew  
o'er both their heads, and great the slaughter grew.  
Oh what unwearied Muse has time to show  
How many souls fled to the shades below?  
Or each Plebeian tragedy to tell?  
Scarce can we thine renowned Kiriell,  
Who in the heat of all wert gladly slain  
Ashamed to see thy native France again.  
With thee the flower of all thy Captains fall  
To wait upon their dying Admiral.  
Mean while the valiant English Lords divide  
Their dreadful forces, and on every side  
Assail the wretched Frenchmen; here come on  
The Earls of Derby, Pembroke, Huntingdon:  
There Morley, Percy, Deleware invade,  
And stern D'artois distaines his vengeful blade  
In wounds of bleeding France: 'mongst whom as high  
In prowess as imperial Majesty  
Like Mars himself, Heröicke Edward goes;  
Whose armed presence quells the fainting foes.  
He worst of danger dared; while by the side  
Of such a Prince his valiant servants died,  
Stout Poinings, Butler, noble Latimer  
Before his eyes were slain: but wondrous dear  
Th'unhappy French did for their slaughter pay▪  
For every English ghost that mortal day,  
Ten ghosts of France fled to the shades below.  
Nor in the heat of fight could th'English know  
How great a wrack their conquering swords had made▪  
The James of Deep, a mighty ship, that had  
Endured so long the shock of hottest fight,  
And never seemed to faint at all, when night  
'Gan now approach, was by the English ta'en:  
In which Death's treasure only did remain.  
Four hundred slaughtered carcases in her  
They found, and by that tragic token there  
Perceived how deep a wound their arms had given.  
Now all the other ships, that had been driven  
Into the haven's straits, were sunk, or there  
Surprised by the English Conqueror.  
When Barbenoire, who not enclosed at all  
Had Sea-room left, perceived how great a fall  
His side sustained, in sorrow and dismay  
Bewailing France, and cursing that sad day  
He tacked about, to be in safety gone;  
But by the warlike Earl of Huntingdon  
The Southern Admiral, so sore was chased  
And hard-beset, he was enforced at last  
By secret flight almost alone to go  
A sad reporter of so great a blow.   

Black night now challenged her alternate reign,  
S●●● soon enough to hide that tragic stain  
Which on the blushing face of Neptune lay:  
Not soon enough to part the mortal fray.  
War's raging fire was spent, the fuel gone,  
And all that Mars could do, already done.  
Nor would great Edward then approach the shore▪  
But make the Ocean's bosom, which before  
Had been the stage of his victorious fight,  
To be his lodging field; whilst all the night  
Drum's beat, and Trumpets to the havens nigh  
Proclaim his great and noble victory.   

But when the rosy morning 'gan appear,  
With joy to welcome his arrival there  
The town of Sluice prepares, while all along  
The haven people numberless do throng  
To view the face of that Heroic King,  
And all the shores with acclamations ring.  
At last great Edward lands, and waited on  
By all the noblest Burghers of the town,  
And English Lords, in triumph takes his way  
To Gaunt, where his belov d Queen Philip lay.  
With such expressions of true state and love  
Did white-armed juno meet triumphant jove  
When from the Giant's wars he came, as she  
Her Lord returned from this great victory.  
With her at Gaunt remained the greatest States  
Of netherlands, and best confoederates  
King Edward had for his great war in hand.  
The Dukes of Brabant, and of Gelderland,  
With Heinaults Earl his coming did attend,  
And james of Artevile his constant friend,  
Whose power had drawn those people to his side▪  
There all their leagves are firmly ratified;  
While happy Gaunt is proud to entertain  
So brave a Monarch with his noble train:  
But much more proud that she had been the place  
Of birth to one fair branch of Edward's race  
Young princely john, who thence shall take his name,  
And lend the town, in lief, eternal fame.   

Annotations upon the second Book.  
ᵃ This great battle of Halydon hill, a place near Berwick, was taught in the sixth year of the reign of King Edward the third of England, and the second of King David of Scotland; who being then a child remained in France, and Archimbald Dowglas Earl of Argus governed the realm of Scotland for him: the English army was led by King Edward himself in person: that of Scotland by the forenamed Earl of Angus Regent of the Kingdom: in this battle the Scots received a great overthrow, although the writers of those times do much disagree about the number of those that perished in the vanquished army: the Scottish Histories allowing fourteen thousand, the English naming above thirty thousand, but howsoever it were, by this victory Berwicke was gained to the Crown of England.  
ᵇ This Robert of Artois was a Prince of the blood of France, descended from Robert Son to Lewis the eight; there had been a suit betwixt the said Robert and Maud his Aunt, Countess of Burgundy, about the Earldom of Artois. Robert presuming upon his own power, and the service he had done King Philip in advancing him to the Crown (for Robert of Artois was at the first a great maintainer of Philip's title against Edward of England) forges a deed, thereby to overthrow his Aunt's right; which being afterwards discovered, made her right the more, and moved the French King to give judgement on her side, so that the County of Artois was by Parliament confirmed upon Maud; which so offended Robert, as in his rage he openly said he would unmake the King by the same power that he had made him. This rash threatening so incensed the King, that he presently laid to apprehend him; but failing therein, he proclaimed him Traitor, confiscated his estate, forbidding all his Subjects to receive or aid him. Robert of Arto is being thus distressed comes over into England, is joyfully entertained by King Edward, made of his Council, and invested in the Earldom of Richmond, where he becomes a great incendiary between the two Kings; discovering to King Edward the secrets of France, and disapproving now of King Philip's title; upon which a Declaration is published and sent to the Pope, and all the neighbour Princes, showing the usurpation of Philip de Valois upon the Crown of France.  
ᶜ There was among the Flemings one jaques de Artevile a Citizen of Gaunt, of great estimation among the people: he was their Leader and Tribune as it were in all their tumults: him King Edward gets by great rewards to take his part, and thereby had them all ready to assail the French King upon any occasion. This jaques, though a man of mean condition, was an useful friend to England; whose death happening about seven years after (for in a tumult his brains were beaten out) was much lamented by King Edward.  
ᵈ This Robert King of Sicily, as Collenutius and other Neapolitan writers testify, was a learned Prince, and much renowned for his skill in Astrology: he was about this time (saith our Froissard) at Avignion with Pope Benedict, where he declared to the Pope by his skill what great wars and bloodshed was like to be, and lamented the miseries of France. That report of Froissard gave ground to this discouse in the Poem.  
ᵉ This Naval fight, which is here at large described in the Poem, was out of doubt the greatest that ever had been upon these narrow Seas: the numbers were many, the fight was cruel, and the slaughter exceeding great. The French Navy by consent of most writers, consisted of 400 sail; the English consisted, according to some authors of 200 sail. according to others of 200. to others of 300. although Froissard report that the Frenchmen were four to one English, which may be thought too much odds to be believed, for the French in those days had good Seamen: but the slaughter was exceeding great, and the victory as complete on the English side as could be imagined: for very few of the French ships escaped home, but were either sunk or taken; and 30000▪ of their men slain: of the English those writers, that report most, have mentioned but 4000    

THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.  
The third Book.  
Argument III.  

Atruce 'twixt France and England's Kings is made▪  
The Garter founded; Edward does invade  
King Philip's lands; the war's to trial brought,  
And that renowned field of Crescy fought.   

A Wound so mortal had enfeebled France  
By Sea received, she could no more advance  
Her colours there: no more had she or vein  
To bleed, or spirits left to strive again.  
What now remains of this loud-threatning war  
The Continent alone must feel: as far  
As Tourney, filled with high and wealthy hopes  
Victorious Edward leads his cheerful troops  
Augmented lately with new-mustred bands  
Of his confederates in the Netherlands.  
That town is first ennobled by his stay,  
Judged worthy to be made the maiden prey,  
A royal army would vouchsafe to take.  
Nor is King Philip in her rescue slack;  
But for the late dishonourable blow  
Filled with revenge and fury, thither now  
Is marching with a numerous host, and brings  
Besides his Frenchmen, the two warlike Kings,  
Navarre and Boheme: nor will Edward rise  
From Tourneys siege; although too small a prize  
One Cities conquest now appears to be  
For Edward's sword; but Fortune lets him see  
That she, to crown his glorious hopes, so nigh  
Had brought a war of greater dignity.   

And now the two incensed Kings are met,  
And their great cause on one days trial set  
(As all believe) all expectations near  
Are drawn, nor have they time to hope or fear.  
The armies both stand ranged in fair array,  
And fierce Bellona proud of such a day  
(As if it lay not in the power of chance  
That storm to scatter) shakes her dreadful lance:  
For like two high-swoll'n seas on either side,  
Whose meeting rage no Isthmos did divide,  
But winds, that from contrary quarters blow,  
Together drive, the two Battaliaes show.  
But that Eternal God, who from on high  
Surveys all hosts, disposes victory  
(Called thence the Lord of hosts) and sets the times  
Of war or peace, as sinful Nations crimes  
Provoke his justice, did not think it good  
That cloud should yet dissolve in showers of blood.  
But pleased to respite for a time the woes  
Of wretched France; and for his purpose chose  
An instrument, whose weakness might make known  
The power, that reconciled them, was his own.  
A veiled Nun alone could interpose,  
And stay the fury of these armed foes,  
Jane de Valois a Princely Lady, near  
To one in blood, as by alliance dear  
To tother; Mother to great Edward's Queen,  
And Philip's sister; who of late had been  
Since Heinaults death, at Fontenelles vowed  
A holy Nun▪ She wakened with the loud  
Alarms of this so great so feared a blow,  
Her quiet cloister had forsaken now.  
Amidst their armed troops her way she took,  
And through the rudest breasts a reverence struck.  
Well did the fame of her chaste life before  
Become the sacred habit that she wore.  
Pure innocence her snowwhite veil professed,  
Her black a sorrow silently expressed.  
Grave was her comely face; Devotion  
On beauties ruins with more beauty shone.  
In all her gestures dwelled humility,  
But tempered with commanding Majesty.  
As thus she passes to persuade the Kings,  
Fair Peace descends, and with her silver wings  
Cutting the air, above the Princess still  
Hangs gently hover; whose calm breath doth fill  
The changed Camps; the Soldiers began to feel  
A mildness seize their breasts; all thoughts of steel  
Of blood and slaughter seemed to withdraw.  
This gentle Nymph when fierce Bellona saw  
As she from heaven descended down, and knew  
Her hopes were now put off, away she flew,  
And left the field; but with an angry look  
Turned back, and proudly her plumed helmet shook.  
Go sluggish Nymph, quoth she, enjoy thy day;  
Fates may defer, but cannot wipe away  
This Kingdom's wounds; but 'tis not their decree  
The fields of Tourney should renowned be  
To future times for such a glorious day.  
In Crescy fields brave Edward shall display  
His conquering colours; there the French shall fall,  
And that poor Village, now scarce named at all,  
Shall for the death of many thousands be  
A place of fame to all posterity.  
There I shall reign; till then dull fields adieu,  
And like a Dragon through the air she flew.  
And now so well the Princess did persuade  
Both Kings; so powerful, he that sent her, made  
Her pious Eloquence that all their hate  
Seemed banished; Philip of Valois forgot  
His thirst of vengeance for the fatal blow  
France took in that great Naval overthrow:  
Edward relented too, content to cease  
His royal claim a while; a sudden peace  
Is for three years concluded to remain.  
The dreadful colours folded up again,  
The threatening swords are sheathed, not stained yet  
In blood at all; and all those Princes met  
To make the trial of so great a day  
Depart again. King Edward takes his way  
By Flanders home; and with his dearest Queen  
That royal pledge, that for two years had been  
Left there by him, (the honour of their clime)  
And there had brought within that happy time  
His royal family a fair increase  
(Two Princely Sons) to England crossed the Seas.   

But soon Wars flame, that had a while in vain  
Been by the Truce depressed, broke out again,  
And higher blazed; but by degrees it came:  
Nor did the royal quarrel, and great claim  
That Edward laid to France, begin the jar;  
But to draw on this great and fatal War  
Collateral causes are found out by fates.  
And first in aid of their confederates  
About the questioned right of Britain's Lands  
Th'engaged Princes by their servants hands,  
And meaner strengths begin to blow the flame.  
To England Montford's widowed Duchess came,  
And here from Edward noble succours gained  
'Gainst Charles of Bloys, whom Philip's power sustained:  
The Earls of Suffolk, Pembroke, Salisbury,  
And Stafford, flowers of English chevalry,  
Bourchier and Spencer Lords, and many more  
Of honoured name, with her to Britain go.  
With them went Robert of Artois, who first  
In Edward kindled that ambitious thirst,  
And fired his active spirit to advance  
His own high honour by the woes of France.  
At Vannes siege (so fate ordained) he took  
His mortal wound; but ere the soul forsook  
Her earthly relics, thence to England's ground  
Transported back, a quiet grave he found.  
Her Soldier England willingly entombed:  
His native France, that by his means was doomed  
So many following mischiefs to endure,  
Bestowed his death, but not his sepulture.   

Vannes, and other little towns are won  
And lost: but no important action  
This war produces (where the threats are high)  
Save that the two great foes are drawn so nigh,  
(Though timely truces do again prevent  
The fatal blow:) great Edward not content  
To send in Montford's aid those forces over,  
Arrives himself upon the Britain shore.  
To whom Prince john the Duke of Normandy  
With forty thousand men approached nigh  
In Bloys his right: the armies both prepare  
To give the blow. Near was the stroke of war,  
And Britain Vannes had almost beheld  
What was decreed to Crescyes' fatal field;  
The royal powers of England and of France  
In Britain's cause to try their puissance  
Before their own great quarrel they maintain.  
But Britain's Duchy must not hope to gain  
So great an honour here: clear grows the day,  
Without a shower this cloud is blown away,  
The war is done; two Cardinals atone  
(As erst a Ladies gentle breath had done)  
The royal Armies, and so well persuade,  
Truce is again 'twixt France and England made.   

Stern Mars a while from deeds of blood restrained  
Strove still to whet his rage, and entertained  
That breathing space in pastimes to prepare  
His cruel forces for th' ensuing war.  
For like a Camp shows Edward's marshal Court,  
To which the Knights of greatest fame resort  
From every land, their prowess there to try,  
And gain renown by active Chivalry.  
His great round Table for those warlike feasts,  
And invitation of such noble guests  
At Windsor Castle does King Edward found,  
Where he himself was borne, a place renowned  
For Britain Arthur's name, who with his bold  
Round-table Knights resided there of old.  
Of whose majestic state and honour there  
Some monuments did in that age appear,  
Though too much darkened by injurious time,  
And more by those vain fables made of him,  
Which casts such mists o'er his bright deeds of glory  
That he remains a name without a story.   

Nor does fair Windsor seem alone to be  
The Throne of Mars, and Scene of Chivalry,  
But Loves delicious Bower, more graced then ere  
Th' Idalian wood, or gentle Paphos were.  
Here are the Cupids, here the Graces seen;  
Hither does Philip, Edward's noble Queen  
In state repair with all her beauteous train,  
Which then three hundred did no less contain  
Of all the greatest, and most Courtly Dames  
That this blessed land could boast: they, like the flames  
Of heaven, those Orbs of pure etherial sire  
With noble thoughts the Knights strong breasts inspire.  
For Courage oft from Beauty's influence  
Receives his motion. justs and Turneaments  
With all the other feats of active War  
Are daily showed on this fair Theatre.  
Such Marshal labours once the Trojan Band  
Did exercise in old Acestes land  
Trained by that pious Prince, who first brought o'er  
The Phrygian relics to Laviniums shore.   

But one unhappy Cross is sent to be  
A sad allay to this high jollity,  
And make great Edward mourn in midst of all  
His feasts and triumphs, the untimely fall  
Of that renowned Earl of Salisbury  
His deare-loved William Montague, who by  
A bruise in Tilting took his fatal wound.  
Who (though a Subject still) was lately crowned  
The Monarch of an I'll, and first began  
To wear that Royal title, King of Man.  
That Island, on the western Sea, between  
Scotland and Ireland lying, that had been  
Subject so many years to Scotland's Crown,  
Had by the valour of that Earl been won  
From them of late, whilst great King Edward (come  
From Britain's Truce with his strong army home)  
Was wasting Scotland; who bestowed that I'll  
On th'earl, together with a Royal style.  
But (oh) how short a time did envious Fate  
Allot to noble William's Kingly state.  
Who, like a sacrifice, did only seem  
So near his death, to wear a Diadem.   

Soon o'er all parts of Europe had the fame  
Of Edward's table, and the Knights that came  
Thither to show their manly prowess, spread,  
And in his jealous foe King Philip bred  
High emulation; who discerns the end  
To which these haughty preparations tend.  
That Edward's aim is only to advance  
His strengths & friendships▪ 'gainst the Realm of France.  
He thinks it now concerns him to prepare  
Himself as well against th' approaching War;  
And in a cause and danger great as that  
Dooes not at all disdain to imitate  
His subtle foe: but such a table he  
Sets up, to draw from Austria, Italy,  
And southern Lands the Knights of best renown  
To grace his Court, and guard his threatened Crown,   

Prevented thus, a new society  
King Edward found'st, not only made to be  
For military deeds a present tie,  
But lasting honour to posterity,  
The noble order of Saint George his Knights.  
Nor for invention of those sacred rites  
To former times is he indebt at all,  
As for the tables first original  
He was to Britain Arthur's old renown.  
So many standing monuments were known  
Of his round tables in the Kingdom yet.  
Besides, the warlike Mortimer had set  
Another table up at Killing worth  
The age before; whose fame had sounded forth,  
And many foreign Knights had drawn from far.  
But in this act not Mortimer shall share,  
Nor any ancient Heröe; this renown  
Without a rival, is third Edward's own.  
No Killing worth shall sound with Windsor's name,  
Nor British Arthur darken Edward's fame.   

Saint George the Martyr is esteemed to be  
A Patron fit for this society.  
Among the Martyrs noble army, none  
Had suffered more, nor more on earth forgone  
For our dear Lord, when Dioclesian reigned,  
And every land with Christians slaughters stained.  
Not all his wealth, nor stately signiories,  
Nor prime of youth did this young Martyr prize;  
(For thrice seven Summers only had he told,)  
Yet in that early age so wondrous bold,  
And in War's feats so skilful was he grown,  
That many famous battles he had won  
'Gainst Caesar's stubbornst foes, before that he  
By patience conquered Caesar's cruelty.  
Him since for tutelary Saint of Wars  
The Christians honoured, as the Heathen Mars.  
Him they invoked in field, before they fought;  
His noble aid th' encouraged Christians thought  
Against the faithless Saracens they had;  
That beauteous George in silver armour clad  
And crimson Cross appear d, conducting them  
Unto the conquest of jerusalem.  
That Saint and Soldier, in this Martial age,  
Edward entitles to the Patronage  
Of that most noble Order he erects.  
Whose armed figure's worn about their necks;  
The Garter buckled on their leg, to be  
A mark of prowess and of unity.  
Which shall increase, and in all ages be  
Delivered greater to Posterity.  
While other lands in emulation vain  
Shall strive so bright a lustre to attain.  
But England's Garter shall obscure the rest,  
Saint Michael's Knights in fhelly collars dressed,  
Rhodes silver Crosses, and Burgundia's fleece,  
Though worn by gteater Worthies then from Greece  
Did first in Argo cross the Seas, and bore  
That golden purchase from the Colchian shore.   

Peace could no longer hold; Wars raging fire  
Suppressed a while, breaks forth, and blazes higher  
Than e'er it did; the battle must be tried,  
For which both Kings so long on either fide  
Had made their strengths: all Truces now are broke.  
And nothing can prevent the fatal stroke.  
The noblest army that e'er crossed the Seas  
From England yet, was now in readiness;  
Which Marshal Edward soon transported o'er,  
And safe arrived on the Norman shore.  
Nor are King Philip's preparations slack,  
Whose side so many mighty Princes take;  
While in suspense all Christian Nations are  
To see the issue of so great a War.   

Forth through the midst of quaking Normandy  
Like Lightnings fatal stroke, did Edward fly  
With his courageous troops, where-ere he went,  
Diffusing fear and pale astonishment.  
Swords freely raging, and remorseless fire▪  
Were instruments of his revengeful ire.  
Unhappy Caranton must be by fates  
First offered to his fury: on her gates  
The heads of Edward's slaughtered friends remain,  
The heads of Percy, Bacon, Clifton slain  
Not long before by Philip's rage: for whom  
The town (alas) must bide a woeful doom.  
For their dear fakes great Edward vows to have  
No mercy there: no age, no sex can save  
From deaths sad stroke; all slaughtered that are found:  
The town itself is levelled to the ground,  
And in confused heaps of cinders lies  
To them a tomb and mourning sacrifice.   

From thence the dreadful army marches on;  
Saint Lo, so rich in merchandise, is won,  
And pillaged by the Soldiers; stately Caen  
Although a while it durst resist, is ta'en.  
And now so great a terror through the land  
Is spread of him, that to his conquering hand  
Themselves Falaise, Lyseaux, and Honfleur yield;  
And uncontrolled his march had Edward held  
Beyond the bounds of Normandy at last:  
Fair Eureux stream and Seine itself he past,  
Now time it seemed to stop his furious course;  
Yet durst the French oppose no armed force  
But break the bridges down where he should pass.  
Which soon they find too poor a bar (alas)  
'Gainst Edward's spirit; whose resolved way  
No high-swoll'n stream, no flood had power to stay,  
No more than Caesar's, after he had gone  
Past the forbidden stream of Rubicon.   

One part of Some, near Abbevile, was known  
That might be forded, when the tide was gone.  
To which six thousand Soldiers Philip sent  
By Godmar led with politic intent  
To stop great Edward there, but with as bad  
A Destiny, as with presage as sad  
As those unhappy Persians sent to stay  
At Granicus great Alexander's way.  
No disadvantage could his passage bar  
To whom the honour of that future war  
Was meant by Fate. Upon the river's bank  
Stood Godmer's Soldiers in well-ordered rank.  
Through them (as through the channel) must the worth  
Of th'English Soldiers carve their passage forth.  
Edward, that knew their resolutions well,  
And could by former hard adventures tell  
That his bold men for him would rush to fight  
Through ways, which some would fear to take in flight,  
And pass that stream by his command alone;  
Yet would not now command, but lead them on,  
And in the action their example be.  
He cries, Who loves me now will follow me,  
And springing forth into the trembling stream  
Is followed with such spirit and zeal by them,  
That all the French amazed at a sight  
So wondrous strange, almost forget to fight,  
And with dismay are vanquished, to see  
Th' undaunted courage of an enemy.  
With small ado, while faintly they oppose,  
The English gain the bank, and rout their foes.  
Of whom are many slain: the rest for fear  
Disordered fly; but their retreat is near.  
To Abbevile, where then King Philip lay  
With all his great and glorious army, they  
Chased by the English swords affrighted came;  
And by their fellows (who esteemed the shame  
As great as was the loss) received are  
As bad presages of the future war.   

King Philip followed by the bravest host  
That e'er before the Realm of France could boast,  
In confidence of Conquest to succeed,  
And to revenge the late disgrace, with speed  
(Although advised at Abbevile to stay  
And rest his Army) marches thence away.  
Thou sweetest Muse of all th' Aönian Spring,  
Faire-haired Calliope, that best canst sing  
Of King's high deeds, and Godlike Heroes fames,  
Declare King Philip's power, recite the names  
Of all (beside the native Chivalry  
Of France, and flower of her Nobility)  
The foreign lands that shared in that great day,  
And royal Princes that did there display  
Their dreadful colours in the aid of France,  
And forward thence to Crescy field advance.  
Within the Van (with Charles of Alencon)  
The royal Banner of Bohemia shone,  
With which did Lodowick her old Martial King  
His furious horse, and well-tried lances bring.  
His glittering Plume, that many an honoured field  
Had known, and many a dreadful fight beheld,  
Waved there unhappily, ordained to be  
A lasting fame to Edward's victory.  
Along with him marched Charles his Princely Son,  
For whom the Fates a fairer thread had spun,  
Saved, to preserve the name, and ancient stem,  
And after weareth ' Imperial Diadem.  
Thither from far Majorca's Monarch brings  
His light-armed Soldiers, from whose fatal slings  
As from strong Bows, death's carried; nor of yore  
Were Cretan shafts or Parthian feared more.  
With fifteen thousand mortal Crossbows there  
The stout Grimaldi and Antonio were  
Two noble Chiefs from stately Genoa,  
Whose Galleys had in many a Naval fray  
Against prond Venice wrestled long, to gain  
The rule of all the Midland Ocean▪  
Stout John of Heinault to King Philip's side  
His forces brings, although so near allied  
To England's King (as Uncle to the Queen)  
And had by Edward highly honoured been.  
He now had changed his faith, and for the gold  
Of France, his mercenary valour sold.  
There march those warlike Flemings, that attend  
Their Earl of Flanders Lewis, a constant friend  
To France; but no strong number could he get,  
Nor o'er his subjects was his power so great.  
They honoured Edward's worth, and to his side  
Had been, without their Earl's consent, allied.  
There Charles of Blois leads on his martial train  
In glittering armour: Bourbon, and Lorraine.  
To whom, whilst all the army marched away,  
But new arrived there, in rich array  
Brings Savoys Duke a thousand men of arms.  
Whom from the lofty Alps the loud alarms  
Of this great war had drawn with dismal fate,  
Too soon (alas) arrived, though seeming late.   

How many men does Fortune bring from far  
Their parts to suffer in this tragic war?  
How many Lands their several shares of woe  
Must contribute to Philip's overthrow?  
Perchance cause Edward will his force advance  
No farther than the continent of France,  
She feared his fame would be no farther known,  
But circumscribed where the deed was done:  
Nor therefore suffers France to bleed alone.  
The sad Bohemian wives that live upon  
Great Albis' banks, and drink fair Moldaes' stream,  
Must make this battle their lamented theme.  
Those that beyond the clouded Alps do dwell,  
And Netherlanders shall be forced to tell  
Great Edward's honour, while their own dear wounds  
They count, received on Crescyes' fatal grounds.   

While thus the French march on in rich array,  
In Crescy park encamped Edward lay:  
His firm Battalia on well chosen ground  
Was closed behind, and barricadoed round  
With strongest fences made by plashing trees,  
And placing there the weighty'st carriages.  
Thither were all the Leaders horses brought  
To cut off hope of flight, and leave no thought  
In English breasts but Death or Victory.  
Their resolutions that before were high,  
By this strict means were more ascertained there.  
Their minds were cheerful, fresh their bodies were,  
And fit t' encounter their approaching foes.  
In three Battalia's does the King dispose  
His strength, which all in ready order stand,  
And to each others rescue near at hand.  
The first in rank that early blooming flower  
Of fame, Prince Edward leads, a Warrior  
Before a man; no Down had clothed his chin,  
Nor seventeen Springs had this young Soldier seen.  
Within his battle famous Leaders are,  
Brave Warwick, Stafford, Harcourt, Delaware,  
There Beauchampe, Bourchier, Clifford, Chandois wield  
Their active arms, whom many an honoured field  
Had famed before. The second Squadron by  
Northamptons' Earl was led: there Willoughby,  
There Arundel, Lord Rosse and Basset stand,  
Men that could well obey, and well command.  
Within the third King Edward means to fight.  
The great French Army now approached their sight,  
And to each Camp did threatening Mars display  
What the succeeding horrors of the day  
Were like to be. The bloody stroke is nigh,  
Nor in the power of Fortune does it lie  
Their warlike fury longer to restrain;  
Nor now can silver-winged Peace again  
(As erst at Tourney and Malstroict she did)  
Th'enraged troops without death's stroke divide.  
But fierce Enyo (chased from thence away)  
Without controlment claims this fatal day.  
Dark grew the troubled air, as if it strove  
Within the soldiers furious breasts to move  
A sad presage of what would then ensue.  
Nor longer could the golden Phoebus show  
His cheerful face. The lightnings flashy light  
And loudest claps of thunder 'gan affright  
The darkened welkin; which in tears apace  
Dissolved, to fall upon the tragic place.  
Another darkness more portentous rose  
o'er both th'amazed camps. Whole shoals of Crows  
And croaking Ravens, that obscure the sky,  
From all the neighbouring fields to Crescy fly  
(As thick as Cranes in winter, that forsake  
To drink warm Nile, the frozen Strymons lake)  
And muster there themselves, in hope to prey  
Upon the slaughter of so great a day.  
From these ostents are deep impressions wrought.  
The soldier's fancies, as each breast is fraught  
With passions various, variously surmise.  
Presaging murmurs through all parts arise.  
In some the thirst of fight increased; in some  
Appeared the paleness of a death to come.  
Yet none so much on their own danger thought  
As they divined, after this field was fought,  
About their Kings and Nations changed fate;  
Nor had they time to fear their private state.   

'Twixt both the Marshals, one on either side,  
Through every battle did great Edward ride.  
Whose royal presence with fresh vigour filled  
The soldiers cheerful bosoms, and exiled  
Even from the coldest hearts all thoughts of fear.  
No long persuasive Oratory there  
Did that short time afford, or Edward need;  
Few exhortations served, that did proceed  
From such a Prince. He briefly bids them crown  
That day, their Nation's honour and their own;  
And sets before the common soldier's eyes  
How great, how glorious was their valours prise▪  
How many Princes wealthy spoils would be  
The recompense of that day's victory.   

But when approaching Philip had beheld  
His English foes embattelled in the field,  
And that the war admitted no delay,  
He vainly joyed to see the wished for day,  
That might redeem the honour France had lost,  
And strait drew on his rich and numerous host,  
In which so many several Nations fought  
By their own Sovereigns there in person brought.  
And now those foreign Princes every where  
With fitting language briefly began to cheer  
Their armed Subjects; that in this days fight  
As well their Country's honour, as the right  
Of Philip lay; that all great France would fame  
And thank their conquering hands; how great a shame  
It were for them to shrink in such a war,  
To which for honour they had come so far;  
And left their dearest pledges, whom if they  
Again would see, it in their valours lay.  
But most does Philip his French troops excite,  
As most of all engaged in the fight  
By nature's laws, and all the love they bear  
To their dear native soil, whose freedom there  
Or shameful conquest into question came;  
That 'twas a stain already to the name  
Of France, a petty King that claim durst make,  
Or their great kingdom's conquest undertake.  
Which they must wipe off by their valours now,  
And for his pride chastise th' ambitious so;  
That easy 'twas to do, since Edward's power  
So few in number, not one hand 'gainst four  
Of fight men, was able there to show:  
And to revenge their fellow soldiers now,  
Who near to Sluice, on Neptune's watery Maine  
Had been before by English Edward slain  
With such like speeches all their hearts are fired,  
And now a signal every where desired.  
Which given, on both sides a loud shout arose,  
And Death began to deal his fatal blows.  
far off at first his winged message flies,  
While the strong-armed English Archer plies  
His bloody task; while Genoan Crossbows back  
Return their fury, and the air grows black  
With shafts, as erst with winged fowl it did.  
The English Vanguard, which Prince Edward led,  
〈◊〉 in the figure of an hearse came on.  
'Gainst which the furious Charles of Alencon  
K●●g Philip's brother, with Bohemia's King  
The strength of all the Chivalry did bring.  
But ●re the horse came on in full career,  
The Genoan Crossbows, that stood foremost, were  
To pour their storms of fury on the foe.  
But there began the fatal overthrow  
Of that huge Army. For the late great fall  
Ofraine (although it did no hurt at all  
To the English bowstrings) spoiled the Genoans quite,  
And made their Crossbows useless in the fight.  
Who wearied with their morning's march so far,  
And grieved with disrespect, had ta'en no care  
How to preserve their strings. Which seeing, on,  
On Chevaliers, cries hot Count Alencon,  
And o'er yond lazy Genoans bellies make  
Your way to victory; let soldiers take  
The Van from useless beasts. With that they ride  
Upon them furiously; by their own side  
The wretched Genoans are trod down and slain.  
But nothing by that act the horsemen gain;  
For o'er their bodies some are tumbled down,  
The rest that stand, in that confusion  
Are galled with arrows, that uncessant fly  
From th' English fresh▪ and gallant Archery,  
Which did almost the whole Battalia rout.  
The whiles the dying Genoans round about  
Might see, before their latest gasp of breath,  
Their own revenge wrought in the Horseman's death;  
And for the wrong, which their own side did do,  
And quickly righted by the valiant foe.   

But loath far off t'endure the Archers force  
Count Alencon with his approaching horse  
Within Prince Edward's battle strives to bring  
The fight; and thither th' old Bohemian King  
With his brave troop does even-ranked ride,  
Whose reins are all fast to each other tied,  
As if they meant to mow the enemy  
By squadrons down▪ So chained Bullets fly  
And sweep a field, as those Bohemian horse  
Close-linked together came. And now their force  
Within the Archers foremost rank had got  
There the encounter grows more closely hot;  
There battell-axes, swords, and lances stand;  
There foot to foot, and furious hand to hand  
The men at Arms maintain a constant war.  
And now Prince Edward's battle too too far  
Began to be oppressed; to succour whom  
The second battle of the English come.  
In which with other Lords Northampton stood;  
And all too little in this scene of blood  
That succour seems to be. Up to the hill  
On which King Edward with his battle, still  
Untouched, kept stand, the Lords have sent to crave  
Aid for the Prince in this sad storm; but have  
This answer (past their expectation) made:  
While he's alive send not to me for aid;  
'tis he must wear this honour; nor will I  
Be Edward's rival in the victory;  
Or fear so much his danger, to step in,  
And seize those Bays, which he alone will win.  
From this Heroic answer of a King  
In every bosom did fresh vigour spring.  
That answer might have wrought despairing fear;  
But that young Edward and the Nobles there  
The worth and wisdom of the King did know,  
And he their spirits whom he sent it to.  
Now does the day grow blacker than before;  
The Swords, that glisterens late, in purple gore  
Now all distained, their former brightness lose;  
Whilst high the tragic heap of slaughter rose.  
Swords meeting swords, and breaking lances sound,  
Clattering of armed breasts, that fall to ground,  
And dying soldiers groans are only heard.  
Horror in all her saddest shapes appeared.  
But long the fury of a storm so strong  
Could not endure, nor Fortune waver long  
In such a trial; but at last must show  
Which way her favours were decreed to go.  
The English Swords with slaughter reeking all  
At last had carved in the Frenchmens fall  
Their way to victory; who now apace  
Are beaten down, and strew the purple place;  
Where, like their own pale-fading Lilies, lie  
The flower of all the French Nobility.  
What Muse can in this field of death declare  
Each private wound? each fate particular?  
Or pay the several obsequies to all?  
'Mongst common soldiers slaughtered Princes fall;  
'Twixt whom Death takes away the distance now,  
While in one stream their bloods commixed flow.  
There Alencon, striving to cure in vain  
The wound of France, is beaten down and slain.  
There dies Majorca's King, who from his home  
So far had sailed to find a foreign tomb,  
And dear that alliance, (which he thought  
So safe to him) in this fierce battle bought.  
Lewis Earl of Flanders, that to Philip's state  
Had been so constant a confaederate,  
Whom no conditions to King Edward's side  
Could ever draw, on Edward▪ s weapons died,  
Sealing in blood his truth to France, to lie  
A wailed part of her calamity.  
There Savoy's Duke the noble Amy lay  
Weltering in gore, arrived but yesterday  
At Philip's hapless Camp, as short an aid  
As Rhaesus proved to falling Troy, betrayed  
The first sad night, and by Tidydes hand  
Slain, ere his Steeds had grazed on Trojan land,  
Or drunk at all of Xanthus' silver stream.  
But most the warlike Monarch of Boheme  
Old Lewis was famed. Who on that honoured ground  
Chained to the foremost of his troops was found,  
And charging at the head of all was slain.  
His cold dead hand did yet that Sword retain  
Which living erst it did so bravely wield.  
His hopeful son young Charles had left the field  
When he perceived that Fortune quite was gone  
To Edward's side. His Father blood alone  
Was too too great a sacrifice to be  
Bestow▪ d on France; whose dying valiancy  
Made all men more desire his Son to live,  
And that the branch of such a tree might thrive.  
There was the Noble Bourbon, there Lorraine,  
Aumerle, Nevers, and valiant Harcourt slain.   

In vain had Philip now (whose Princely soul  
In all those deaths did bleed) strive to control  
By highest valour, what the Fates would do.  
Wounds not in mind alone, but body too  
(Unhorsed twice) did th'active King receive,  
As much ashamed no blood at all to leave  
In such a field, although enforced to part  
Himself from thence; at last his struggling heart  
Is to necessity content to yield,  
And flies with speed from that unhappy field.  
With whom the Frenchmen all the fight forsake,  
And o'er the Country flight disordered take.   

By this had Night her sable mantle spread  
Upon the earth, by whose protection fled  
The vanquished French with more security.  
A most complete and glorious victory  
The English had obtained; yet would not now  
Disrank themselves to chase the flying foe.  
But in that field, which they alone possessed,  
Resolve to give their wearied body's rest,  
Till morning's light display those wealthy spoils,  
That must reward the conquering soldiers toils.   

Now great King Edward from the Windmill hill  
Came down, where his untouched Battalia still  
Had stood, till all the fight below was done,  
And in his arms embraced his armed Son.  
Who now with blood and sweat was all distained;  
Then gratulates his early honour gained  
In such a field of danger, joyed to see  
His blooming years thus fleshed in victory.  
Well did that day presage the future glory  
And martial fame of this great Prince, whose story  
With admiration aftertimes shall hear.  
Like miracles his conquests shall appear  
In France achieved; nor shall that kingdom bound  
His Swords great deeds; whose fame shall farther sound,  
And royal trophies of black Edward's praise  
Beyond the Pyrenaean mountains raise.   

Next morn, mists, fatal to the French, arose;  
To Crescy field, where their encamped foes  
Stood now refreshed, were many troops of France  
Discerning not the former battles chance  
Like sacrifices come, and fell there more  
Than had been slain in all the fight before.  
Victorious Edward for so great a day  
To God's high Throne on bended knees did pay  
His true and humble thanks, and briefly then  
Commend the worthy service of his men.  
Who now the spoils of that rich Army share,  
As just reward of their victorious war.   

Annotations upon the third Book.  
ᵃ King Edward taking Caranton protested openly that he sacrificed it to the memory of these Gentlemen, who had the year before been unjustly massacred by King Philip, and their heads now were standing upon the gates of that unhappy town. For King Philip of France the year before perceiving that a terrible tempest of war was likely to fall upon him out of England, waxed cruel in his jealousy, and put sundry principal men of Normandy, Picardy, and Guyenne to death, for no other crime, but that they were English in affection: Among whom are reckoned Sir Oliver de Cli●●on, Baco, Persie, and Geoffrey of Malestroict, Knights of the best note. Sir Godfrey of Harecourt, brother to the Earl of Harecourt, a man once in high favour with King Philip, being upon this occasion also summoned to Paris, fled to King Edward into England, and became another Robert of Artois; for his valour and counsels at this present invasion of France did much advantage King Edward's achievements; though two years after he forsook the English, and returned again to the obedience of Philip his natural Lord.  
ᵇ This great battle of Crescy, where King Edward obtained so full, and wonderful a victory, is at large recited in the Poem, and therefore little shall need here to be spoken of it, but only of the numbers which fought or died on both sides. The English Army by general consent of almost all Authors consisted of 30000. The French, according to those that speak least, together with their auxiliaries, were about 60000. But many Authors of good credit report their number twice as many, others agree upon an hundred thousand. Upon that Saturday, being the 26 of August, 1346, when this great battle was fought, the slaughter was great on the French side, for none were taken to mercy upon that day, for the Conquerors thought it not safe for themselves to take any Prisoners. But the next morning presented new work; for a great mist arose, that men could hardly see the distance of an acre of ground from them; when as many troops of Frenchmen from Rouen, Beavicois, and other Cities coming to join themselves with King Philip, (and not hearing of his discomfiture) together with great multitudes of such as had lost their way in the last flight, lighted unhappily upon the victorious English, and were severely put to the Sword. Among those that came with fresh forces to aid the King were the Archbishop of Rouen, and the Grand Prior of France; who were both slain after a great and sore battle with the English; for they brought a good strength with them. The Earls of Northampton, Suffolk and Norfolk had execution of the French, which fled from this last overthrow, for the space of nine English miles from the ground where they encountered. And it is the general consent of Authors, that more of the French were slain upon this second day, than were the day before, when the great battle was fought; some Prisoners were then taken, though none of great name, for they were spent in the day before. When the account was taken, it was found that there died in all of the French side eleven great Princes, of Earls, Barons, and gentry of high account about fifteen hundred, of common soldiers above thirty thousand. And to make the victory the more wonderful, there was not one man of honour or note slain upon the English side, of common soldiers so few, that we find no mention of the number.    

THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.  
The fourth Book.  
Argument FOUR  

Calleiss by Edward is besieged, and won.  
Great deeds in several parts of France are done  
By Edward's soldiers, whilst in England here  
The King of Scotland's taken prisoner.   

FIve morns had cleared the Earth with Phoebus' light,  
And from the Pole removed the damps of night  
Since England's conquering King from Crescy gone  
Without control of foes, had marched on  
Through Picardy; and now before the Town  
Of Calleis sat with his strong Army down,  
Resolyed in spite of all relief or fence  
Till he had gained it, not to rise from thence.  
Impregnable was Calleiss; to be won  
Not by assault, but length of siege alone,  
Where meager famine Natures greatest foe,  
And heavens feared plague must all th'achievement do▪  
For which great Edward had on every side  
His Camp entrenched, and strongly fortified  
With timber-works, investing it by land  
The circuit round; the Sea at his command  
Was wholly then; where his strong Navy lay,  
And brought his Camp provisions every way.   

But while the siege is yet but new begun,  
Fortune presents a brave occasion  
To make King Edward▪ s noble nature known,  
That all the Country may as much renown  
His minds brave sweetness as his Martial fame,  
And learn to love as well as fear his name.  
De Vein the Marshal, and Lord Dandregan,  
That then commanded Calleis, while they can,  
Resolve to th'utmost to preserve so dear  
A pledge, and nought but only famine fear.  
They therefore strait enforce out of the Town  
The folk, that now for war are useless grown  
Full fifteen hundred heads (to spare their store)  
The lame, the sick, the aged, and the poor.  
At mercy of the foe these wretches go,  
If to such wretches Edward were a foe.  
But he remembers he's a King, and they  
Too weak (alas) to be the Lion's prey.  
Instead of foes, his bounty makes them guests,  
And French, by French forsaken, Edward feasts.  
With store of victuals, and with money too  
He sends them thence; who every step they go  
Send back a prayer for his prosperity.  
And in their hearts acknowledge silently  
That he's the lawful Sovereign of the land.  
For when two titles thus in question stand,  
Whose (do the people think) should be the right  
But his, whom first just heaven assists in fight?  
And makes ('gainst odds) a conqueror of his foes?  
And who beside by his compassion shows  
Himself his Country's father, as Kings are?  
Those barricadoed strongest works of war,  
Which must, in spite of Philip's forces, stand  
Till Calleis keys be given to Edward's hand,  
Can these weak people find a passage through,  
Which th'armed strength of France could never do▪   

Nor loses Edward time in staying there;  
For every day to his rejoicing ear  
Some prosperous news from foreign parts is brought  
Of what abroad his conquering men have wrought.  
How every action's crowned with high success,  
And all their conflicts add some happiness  
To his triumphant side; as if that then  
Kind Fortune strove the name of Englishmen  
Even to the highest point of fame to bring;  
Or that the Genius of so great a King  
Through all the lower parts diffused were  
To guide their deeds alike. For wheresoever  
They fight, the Garlands won, and every war  
A Crescy proves, where Edward's soldiers are.   

From Guyenne first he hears the prosperous fights  
Of noble Derby; who with Gascoigne Knights,  
And other Lords from Bordeaux took his way,  
And o'er the river of Garonne, 'twixt Blay  
And that great City, marched through Philip's lands.  
Fair Mirabell is yielded to his hands.  
Aunay and her strong Castle, with Benon,  
And Maraunt in Poictou by force are won;  
Tailebourgh, and Bourgh Saint Maximent they win  
Both by assault, and Montrevill Bonin.  
Nor with so small a power of Soldiers fears  
The warlike Derby to assault Poitiers,  
So large in circuit that he could not lay  
Round siege about it; but one only way  
Surprised it by assault; and many more  
Achievements high did his small army do.  
There many noble Prisoners did he take,  
And marched without control, to Bordeaux back.  
There breaks his Army up with thanks, and home  
His soldiers filled with wealth and honour come.   

As much true honour won the English name  
In Britain's wars, as radiant was their fame.  
Where Charles of Bloys the great Competitour  
By valiant Dagworth and his English power  
Was overthrown and taken Prisoner.  
The odds so wondrous in their numbers were,  
One Writer then amazed, in his thought  
Among the deeds of th'ancient Worthies sought  
A parallel for Dagworth's victory,  
Entituling him another Machabee.   

But that which most secured great Edward's state,  
(Left English swords should prove less fortunate  
In England, then in foreign parts they were)  
That Conquest was, and royal Prisoner,  
Which his brave men had in his absence gained.  
Queen Philip sent the news, and there complained  
Of Copland's stout demeanour, who to her  
Denied to yield the King his Prisoner.  
For which to Calleis Copland sent for, had  
So good excuses to great Edward made,  
That for the service, from his royal hand  
He gained a ●●●h reward. The King commands  
Him to relate the battle, and display  
Each circumstance of that victorious day.  
Full well (quoth noble Edward) do I know  
That most to God's Almighty hand I owe  
For preservation of my kingdom there.  
What strength had you alas? what forces were  
In readiness? what Army could you bring  
Against th'invasion of a warlike King?  
Whilst here ourself with our chief Army lay  
At Calleis siege, the second was away  
As far as Guyenne, and the third than fought  
In Britain's wars? what were the hands that wrought  
This great achievement? but King David broke  
The truce he made with us, that he might take  
With Philip's fortune, Philip's falling side.  
For heaven does justly wars successes guide.  
Do thou relate the fight. The King had done,  
When humbly bowing Copland thus begun:   

Since you are pleas▪ d, dread Sovereign, to command,  
(For whose victorious brow the sacred hand  
Of heaven is weaving Garlands every where)  
From me the meanest of your servants, hear  
This battles great success, and what for you  
The same high hand has wrought in England now.  
To Durham walls (while far his terror spread  
Among the people) had King David led  
His royal army; where those warlike Peers  
Of Scotland marched, that had for many years  
Late passed, so well the English borders known;  
That there so many strange exploits had done,  
And wealthy pillage gained: when to withstand  
That threatening force, and guard their native land  
With noble spirits the English Lords prepare,  
And draw their forces to this sudden war;  
Lord Percy, Nevil, Mowbray, D' Eincourt there,  
Humfrevile, Mawley, Musgrave, Scroop appear,  
And many more of worthy note, to whom  
The men at arms, and nerved Archers come.  
Nor in so great a danger was it thought  
Enough, if only usual soldiers fought,  
To save their Country's universal harm  
The Churchmen fight, the reverend Prelate's arm;  
The two Archbishops and grave Durham there  
Their Crosier-staves 'midst streaming Ensigns bear.  
No cause (they thought) could make them to refuse  
So dear a war, no calling could excuse.  
O'er all the field do armed Priests appear,  
And shaved Monks unused helmets wear▪  
Such was that law the ancient Romans made,  
When e'er the furious Gauls did them invade.  
No Priesthood from wars service then excused.  
But that which into th' English breasts infused  
The noblest fire; was that your virtuous Queen  
Great Sir, among us was in person seen.  
Nor could the Princely burden of her womb  
(Great as she was with child) detain her from  
That gracious visit. As along she road  
On every rank and squadron she bestowed  
Words that inspired new life; such seemed she,  
Such did her looks and cheerful Majesty  
Appear to each adoring soldier  
As Poets fancied in the Trojan war  
Majestic juno, when in all her state  
She would descend from heaven to animate  
The warlike greeks, or Pallas come to lead  
Her wise Ulysses, or stout Diomed.  
At nevil's Crofle, a place not famed at all  
Till this great conflict, and King David's fall,  
The eager Armies meet to try their cause.  
Our English Lords in four Battalia's  
Bring on their forces; but so furious grows  
In little time the fight; so near the blows,  
That soon no order we perceive at all.  
For like one body, closely move they all.  
And thought the archers had at first begun  
The fight with wondrous happiness, and done  
So much as caused the future victory,  
Yet now their arrows scarce have room to fly▪  
While swords and bills do all; while hand to hand  
The armies wrestling with each other stand.  
Small ground (and that alternately) they gave,  
As by a river's side tall reeds do wave:  
Or when a field of lofty standing corn  
Two several ways by different gales is borne.  
That if a man had from some hill surveyed  
The fight, and seen what equal motion swayed  
Both armies there: he would have been so far  
From judging which should conquer in that war,  
As to have feared almost that all would dye,  
And leave no conquest, but one tragedy.  
No stratagem, no foul default was showed,  
Nor could your servants tell to what they owed  
(Unless to justice of their cause it were)  
That days hard conquest; which began then appear  
When those chief flowers of Scotland's noble blood  
Strewed dead those places, where before they stood.  
There Murrey's Earl, the noble Randolph, son  
To that renowned Randolph that had done  
His native land such wondrous service, falls  
Encircled not with vulgar funerals  
Alone, but men of Scotland's greatest power,  
Her Marshal, Chamberlain, and Chancellor.  
With many more of note and dignity.  
The King himself, who with resolve as high  
As any soldier had maintained the fight,  
near still, where greatest danger did invite  
His forward sword; and might for valiancy  
Deserve a conquest, not captivity,  
That through the thigh had with a lance been struck  
(Besides two shafts that in his body stuck)  
And lost much royal blood, when he beheld  
His Army now discomfited in field,  
Not yet dismayed, fought on; when 'twas my chance  
Your Grace's meanest soldier, to advance  
The next to him; I humbly bade him there  
To yield himself King Edward's prisoner;  
And gently came to take his hand; but he  
That sought for death before captivity,  
And therefore strove our anger to provoke,  
My face so fiercely with his Gauntlet struck,  
That two teeth lost can witness yet the blow.  
Then with his sword (though hurt and wearied now)  
He flies among us, while disdain and ire  
Into his weary nerves new strength inspire,  
That scarce could we his most unwilling foes  
Preserve that life which he desired to lose.  
At last he fell; by which our royal prey  
We seized, and bore him by main strength away.  
That fate the greatest Nobles of his land  
The Earls of Fife, Menteith, and Southerland  
With warlike Douglas are enforced to take;  
While all the rest, that could escape the wrack  
Of that sad day, forsake the tragic fight,  
And into Scotland take disordered flight.   

King Edward pleased with this relation,  
And what John Coplond in that fight had done,  
Confers on him, beside revenues great,  
The martial honour of Knight Banneret,  
And sends him back for England, with command  
To yield his prisoner to Queen Philip's hand.   

Despair had entered the besieged Town  
Of Calleis now; pale famine, which alone  
Subdues the strongest forts, had taken hold  
Upon the wretched Citizens, and gold  
Which reigns in humane breasts at other times,  
Esteemed a price even for the greatest crimes,  
Is proved no just rate at all to bear,  
Food only is of price, and valued there.  
All former hopes of their relief were crossed:  
In vain had Philip with a numerous host  
From Amiens marched; Edward's siege to raise,  
And challenged him in vain; for all the ways  
Of their approaching both by sea and land  
Were by the English kept, each passage manned.  
And now (though late) the governors were bend  
To yield to terms, and to King Edward sent.  
Who, scorns t'accept of any terms but these,  
That six the wealthiest of their Burgesses  
With halters on their necks, resolved to dye,  
Should to his pleasure yield them presently;  
And that their deaths his wrath should expiate;  
That all conditions else should come too late,  
And he no mercy on the Town would take.  
These sad conditions are returned back;  
And through all hearts had struck a chilling fear  
In every visage did pale Death appear.  
For though destruction challenged but a few,  
It threatened every head; until they knew  
What heads would suffer. They despaired to find  
Among the noblest rank so brave a mind  
That would on that condition choose to dye,  
As once for Rome devoted Deccis.  
In this amaze the weeping people throng  
Into the public Marketplace. Among  
Their cries confused, and different face of woes,  
Eustace a rich and noble Burgess rose,  
Who, when the people began a silence make,  
Thus with a voice and look undaunted spoke:  
Since, Countrymen, you know King Edward's doom  
Let me be bold to claim my proper room.  
The wealthiest men must suffer; nor will I  
Strive now to hide that wealth and dignity,  
That made me honoured in our peaceful time,  
Nor ere be guilty of so foul a crime,  
As not to come a willing sacrifice  
For all. I thank the English King in this;  
That, though a general pardon he deny,  
He is so just in his severity,  
To make those men, that most indebted were  
Unto their Country, pay the most for her.  
Besides, he gives us privilege in the case;  
The low, the impotent, and poor (alas)  
Look on the general slaughter of the Town,  
And, mixed with public ruin, fear their own,  
Since Edward makes their lives too cheap a price  
To be for all th'appeasing sacrifice.  
They only fear, but no election, know,  
And must endure what fortune we bestow:  
But to the nobler rank of Burgesses  
Though death be nearer, yet our fears are less.  
Election's left to us, and power to make  
That vantage thence, which others cannot take.  
For we gain honour if we freely dye,  
And not abandon this brave liberty:  
If we refuse, their deaths will be the same  
With ours; and yet no choice to purchase same  
Is given to them. We ought our lives to give  
In gratitude for this prerogative.  
Why should so many thousand people dye  
When six the foes demand will satisfy?  
Had he been pleased to accept of one,  
I then had spared this Oration;  
Because myself had had the power to be  
What now I cannot without company.  
But howsoever, Eustace will be one  
That freely comes to this oblation.  
A general applausive shout was heard,  
And many passions 'mongst the rout appeared.  
Moved with his love and noble piety  
The Commons weep, the Burghers instantly  
Present themselves, and make it now a strife  
Who first shall offer his devoted life.  
Daire first steps in to Eustace side; to whom  
Two Wyssons, brethren, james and Peter come;  
Forth in a moment the whole number stands  
Six of the wealthiest Burgesses; whose hands  
The weeping people kiss, and to the sky  
Extol their pious magnanimity.  
The keys of Calleis are by Eustace borne:  
And on they march undaunted; halters worn  
About their necks, instead of cheines are been,  
Yet honoured more than chains of gold had been.  
Whom to the gates the people all attend,  
And thousand prayers for their safety send.  
Their prayers are heard, and God preserves their lives;  
At Calleis Edward's virtuous Queen arrives,  
Queen Philip great with child, who pleased to make  
Their lives the boon she craved. For her dear sake  
(Though Edward srowned at first, and bade them dye)  
He smooths his brow, and to her clemency  
And pleasure only he commits the men;  
She freely pardons and rewards them then.  
An action fit for that brave Queen to do,  
And fitter far for Edward to allow  
Then do himself; whom sternness then became  
No less than pity did the royal Dame.  
Thus with his family could he divide  
His own renown, and give (as erst he did  
The fame of Crescy's conquest to his Son)  
To her the thanks of this compassion.   

In Calleis Castle proud to entertain  
So great a Monarch with his warlike train  
The Conqueror feasts his virtuous Queen; where she  
To give the Castle greater dignity,  
Or take more firm possession then before,  
A Princely daughter to great Edward bore.  
Whence some presaged that that conquered place  
Should long remain to Edward's royal race.   

Soon o'er that channel into England flies  
The fame of Edward's glorious victories,  
Of Crescy battle, of fair Calleiss won,  
And all the other high achievements done.  
Where France in several parts had felt the force  
Of English arms. Such is the glad discourse  
In every part of Edward's kingdom now.  
Some speak of France, some Scotland's overthrow:  
One tells what Dagworth had in Britain done;  
Or what in Gascoigne noble Derby won,  
Themselves enriched, secured on every side.  
Oft had the Moon renewed her waned pride  
Since daily news had been of some success,  
Of some rich triumph, or new happiness;  
Since they so oft had to their Temples gone,  
And oft paid thanks to God's celestial Throne.  
Oft friendly feastings did express their joys.  
The Country Damsels danced, and sporting Boys  
Abroad in fields, by chosen companies  
Would act before their pleased parents eyes  
The late-fought battles, and the story show  
Of Edward's conquest, Philip's everthrow.  
Such were the triumphs, such the sports of Rome  
When news was from victorious Scipio come  
Of Zama's prosperous battle, and the fall  
Of their long terror, Libyan Hannibal.   

Fair Summer's pride began to fade away,  
And night encroach upon the hours of day,  
When Fortune does (as if in spite of time  
She meant to make in England's joyful clime  
Another Summer) to the people bring  
The long wished presence of their conquering King▪  
Oh how from Dover-landing all the way  
Along to London, as his progress lay,  
Was strewed with branches! how the air was rend  
With acclamations which the people sent;  
When with himself in highest Majesty,  
The Queen, and that young flower of Chivalry  
Prince Edward road, with all the valiant train  
Of Lords and Knights returned from France again,  
With noble Prisoners, with, war's wealthy prize,  
And captive Ensigns of their enemies.  
Now happy London is the Theatre  
Of triumph grown; the soldiers every where  
Taste the sweet fruits of their successful toils,  
And fill their native Country with the spoils  
That ransacked France has lost. On beds from thence  
Of richest work lie London Citizens.  
While every house a clothing new puts on;  
In all their largest rooms are hangings shown,  
Of fairest tapestry, which heretofore  
Fair Caranton, or Caen, or Calleis wore.  
At feasting tables they carouse in wine  
In ancient plate, on which engraven shine  
Arms of some Norman Lord, or Gascoigne Peer;  
And their lost jewels English Ladies wear  
To please new Lovers; whilst each Lad can deck  
With Peals of France his mistress beauteous neck.  
While other neighbouring Countries curse the chance  
Of their successelesse wars: while wretched France  
Beholds her losses with a mourning eye,  
And Scotland wails her King's captivity:  
England alone is filled with joy, that sees  
The gain of war, and not the miseries.  
And thus is all the winter's season spent  
In revels, feasts, and jolly merriment.  
But oh, how soon fades earthly bliss away!  
And clouds of grief overcast the fairest day!  
How soon that land, that seemed in surest state  
Of happiness, grows sad and desolate.  
Such must the mourning change of England be,  
Although no sword of foreign enemy,  
Nor stroke of war shall shake her quiet state:  
Though Edward's sword continue fortunate,  
And on his standard victory attend:  
Yet other arrows the great God can send  
To wound a kingdom. That Almighty hand,  
That wounded Israel once, his chosen land  
With David's choice for David's high offence,  
Not with man's sword, but his own pestilence,  
Strikes England so; yet this they comfort call,  
Into the hands of man they shall not fall.   

Sad grows the time, nor with her wont cheer,  
Or usual dressing does the Spring appear;  
No cleansing gale of Zephyre moves the air,  
While rising fogs obscure the welk in fair.  
Without his showers contagious Austere blows,  
And painted Summer no kind fruit bestows.  
Nor does the Sun, as if inflamed with ire,  
Send out that wholesome and prolifique fire  
He used to do: but beams of mortal heat;  
And from the bosom of the twins, as great  
Combustion kindles here, as if he then  
Upon the Nemean Lion's back had been.  
Within the farthest Eastern Lands, from whence  
Day breaks, breaks forth the fatal pestilence,  
As if with rising Titan it begun,  
And followed thence the motion of the Sun.  
To Europe then does th'▪ hot contagion fly,  
Raging through every part of Italy;  
And France, that bled so late, is forced to see  
Beside wars stroke, a new mortality.  
But most of all o'er England's mourning face  
The sad infection spreads; and Death apace  
In his pale Chariot rides through all the land.  
No age nor sex escape his vengeful hand.  
Young men in prime of all their strength are struck,  
And yield. The sucking Infant, what he took  
From Nature, soon is summoned to repay:  
From those soft limbs untimely fleets away  
The new-come Soul, before it can be grown  
Acquainted with the tender mansion.  
The aged man, not because aged, goes,  
But only 'cause he had a life to lose.  
The mourning grave becomes a marriage bed  
To beauteous maids; praeposterously dead  
One father wails his son: another all  
His household carries in one funeral,  
And for so many deaths one mourning serves,  
If one be left to mourn. No care preserves  
Nor antidote can save from this disease:  
Their greatest hope is but to dye in peace;  
For oft the fiery sickness did invade  
Reasons cool seat; and there prevailing made  
A strange distraction, worse than loss of breath;  
For which their friends wished (as a cure) their death.  
The face oft burned; no moisture had the eye,  
Nor could by tears express their misery.  
Some, while their dearest friends they do entomb,  
Before that pious office done, become  
Themselves a funeral. Death makes him to be  
An hearse, that came a mourning obsequy.  
Nor does this venomous contagion  
Work the destruction of mankind alone,  
The sheep and cattle perish; as if grown  
On earth quite useless, since the men are gone.  
Wast lie the Lawns, the fields of tillage now  
Are desolate, while the forsaken plough  
Nor men nor cattle scarce can exercise.  
The Ox in midst of all his labour dies,  
And leaves behind his mourning fellow, now  
Dismissed from toil, and service of the plow.  
Who takes no comfort now in shady woods,  
In flowery meadows, or clear Crystal floods  
That destiny (alas) for him remains  
Although at rest. The warlike horse disdains  
The pleasant streams, and sick forgetteth quite  
His food, or th' honour of a race or fight.  
Even Toads and Vipers dye, acquainted grown  
With venom far more mortal than their own   

Twice through th' Horrizon had Hyperion run  
Since first the fatal Pestilence begun,  
Before th' Almighty did his sword restrain,  
And with his favour visit earth again.  
He now is pleased to cast a gracious eye  
On this distempered world; her misery  
He cures; and makes her former beauty come;  
With kindly fruits he fills earth's fertile womb.  
And makes sweet blasts to move the wholesome air.  
The people find at last their humble prayer  
Is heard; and now the tears are wiped away,  
Due praise and thanks before his Altar pay.   

Annotations upon the fourth Book.  
ᵃ Those that would see at large the actions of the Earl of Derby in Guyenne, Aquitaine, and Normandy, let them read Froissard, where they shall see them fully (though not elegantly related. This Earl of Derby a man of great worth, and near in blood to King Edward, was afterwards by him created Duke of Lancaster (the first Duke that ever was in England) and left behind him no other issue, but one daughter; who being his sole heir was married to john of Gaunt the King's son, and brought to him a large dowry, together with the title of Duke of Lancaster.  
ᵇ This wonderful mortality which it pleased God in his wrath to send upon the wretched earth, happened in the 22. year of King Edward, immediately after the taking of Calleis; a greater pestilence we can scarce read of in any particular land or kingdom, much less so great, and with all so general as this was For not only England, but France, Italy, and most of the Eastern and Southern kingdoms were visited at that time, and felt the rod most heavy and sad on them. The forerunner of this great sickness was immoderate rain, for our Chronicles agree in general, that from Midsummer to Christmas it reigned every day or night. The year following it is noted that there died in London between january and the end of July seven and fifty thousand persons. Other Cities and Towns suffered the like according to their proportions; insomuch that some writers of those times were of opinion that half the inhabitants of the Land died: for we must not believe Walsingham, who says there was not above a tenth part of mankind left alive. As great a death of cattle happened both that, and the year following. Thy was the greatest, but not the only plague which happened during the reign of this King Edward For twelve years after England was visited with another, which our Chronicles called the second great Plague. In that many of the Nobility died, and among the rest that noble Henry Duke of Lancaster, a chief actor in all the wars and victories of Edward, and a main Pillar of the state at that time.    

THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.  
The fifth Book.  
Argument V.  

Prince Edward levyes forces to maintain  
Against the French, his right in Aquitaine;  
The King wastes Scotland; Poitiers field is fought,  
From whence King john of France is prisoner brought.   

PHilip of France had left the earth, and John  
The eldest Son, as in his father's Throne,  
So in his sad misfortunes does succeed.  
Who, what the Fates in vengeance had decreed  
Against his Realm, by rashness hastens on.  
And ('gainst all right) on Charles his eldest son  
Confers the style of Duke of Aquitaine.  
Great Edward bound in honour to maintain  
His own inheritance, creates his Son  
Young Edward Prince of that Dominion▪  
Exhorts him bravely to defend his right,  
And 'gainst the French for his just Title fight.  
For which Prince Edward arms, and with a train  
Of valiant Lords prepares for Aquitaine.   

Never did Fortune with more favour smile  
On any arms; nor from this martial Isle  
Did ever army cross the Seas before  
That more triumphant did return, or wore  
A richer Garland from Bellona's tree.  
There to maintain young Edward's signiory  
Brave Warwick arms; who near the Prince his side,  
When Crescy field his maiden prowess tried,  
Before had fought; and Suffolk, whose renown  
In many an hard adventure France had known.  
His noble service Oxford tenders there;  
And that redoubted Lord, that must appear  
In Poicteirs battle honours brightest star  
Lord Audley; Chandois in all feats of war  
And policies to none inferior,  
And then young Edward's chiefest Counsellor.  
With these brave William Earl of Sarum, clad  
In shining arms appears; now not so sad  
Since sage resolves had weaned fond desire,  
And in his breast extinguished Cupid s fire;  
A fire once sweet (alas) whilst laws did seem  
T'allow his love, and power to favour him.  
The sourest Virtues did excuse his flame,  
When he the beauties of that Princely Dame  
Enjoyed, as than he well might seem to be  
The envy of a Prince: much more is he  
(Since reason did that passion quite convince)  
Now truly grown the envy of a Prince.  
Prince Edward sighed, and wished himself as free,  
(When he beheld the cheer of salisbury)  
From that fair flame. One object kindled both,  
But Edward's was not of so long a growth  
As Salisburies'; nor had been aided so  
By powerful Time, the passion to forgo.  
Forbear a while to sound the Martial noise  
Calliope, and tune thy gentler voice  
Soft Erato; declare what Princely love  
Did then th● Heroic breast of Edward move.   

Not many years had passed, since by the laws  
Of holy Church, that long-depending cause  
Betwixt Lord Holland, and Earl Montague,  
(Who both with power and eager claymes did sue  
For Kent's fair Countess) was on Holland's side  
Decreed, and by Pope Clement ratified.  
By which decree blessed Holland, freed from strife,  
Possession took of his admired wife.  
And his bright jewel now in public wore;  
Which from the Court had been concealed before,  
While that great suit depended, and unknown  
It was, what husband should the Lady own.  
Her tempting beauties (now th'eclipse and pride  
Of England's Court) had lovesick Edward spied.  
The flames unseen his youthful bosom burned;  
His active thoughts, so cheerful once, are turned  
To pensive muse: company he flies,  
And, for his wont Princely exercise,  
And high discourse with martial Lords, he loves  
Retreats, sad music, and the silent groves.  
Why did you gaze unhappy eyes (quoth he)  
Too late on her? it is too soon for me  
Because too late. The Laws are false, that say  
No time can barrea Prince. Debarred for aye  
Am I. In what possession can they give,  
Unless in Love, a fit prerogative  
For Princes to receive? where did she lie  
While free she was, concealed from Edward's eye?  
Was not her birth of height enough? and she  
A branch of England's royal family?  
Her name Plantagenet, Earl Edmund's heir?  
Did she not bring, together with that fair  
And heavenly form, a dower that might affright  
Those Lords from courting of her, and invite  
A Prince his highest flames? why is not she  
Restored again to her great family  
From which th' ambitious love of Holland durst  
To draw her maiden innocence at first?  
Or else some foreign Monarch would from far  
Have come, perchance, to fetch a prize so rare.  
A thousand Princely suitors for the fame  
Of Spartan Helen's virgin beauties came  
By deeds of arms their persons to endear,  
And by a war revenged the rape of her.  
As many venturous youths, for such a Bride  
As was the fair Hippodamea, died.  
At cheaper rate why did our climate set  
Thy maiden blossom, fair Plantagenet?  
Would thou hadst been the prize of Chivalry,  
For which great Princes might have come to try  
Their manly prowess; Edward might have worn  
Thee then perchance: or thou (at worst) been borne  
From hence away to be a foreign Queen,  
Nor had I here thy kill beauty seen.   

Thus, as within a laurel Bower he sat,  
Did Edward's lovesick thoughts expostulate.  
The twilight than began; nor had night spread  
Her sable mantle yet, though day were fled:  
When lo before him (one on either hand)  
Two Nymphs of more than humane visage stand.  
The one was plain, her looks composed and grave;  
Yet seemed a cheerful Majesty to have.  
A mantle rough o'er her tall shoulders hung;  
Her undecked hair behind she earelesse flung.  
Her name was Arete: on other side  
Stood Hedone her foe; her beauty's pride  
In all alluring amorous forms displayed▪  
Transparent silks her snowwhite limbs arrayed,  
And Tyrian scarves with gold embroidered o'er.  
The precious spoils of every Eastern shore  
Adorned her ivory neck and tresses fair.  
From whence diffused odours filled the air.  
She thus assails the Prince: Enjoy the time  
Sweet Prince, that Fortune's height, and Nature's prime  
Both meet to bless thee with; and ravished see  
What pleasures wait on youth and Royalty.  
Thou hast the top of others wish, and may●st  
Pluck those sweet fruits, which neither age can taste,  
Nor low estate procure. Both fade away;  
Not only men, but Princes turn to clay.  
Then take in time what ne'er will come again.  
What is not used, was bestowed in vain.  
Which prudent Nature never did intend  
In any gift she gave. Why shouldst thou spend  
In toils and hazards these thy happy days  
To gain that nothing, that vain shadow, Praise?  
Of which, as life no real use can make,  
So th' absent ghost, or senseless grave can take  
No joy at all. What e'er the vulgar deem,  
Believe me, wisest men did ne'er esteem  
That bubble Honour. When King Pyrrhus once  
Resolved t' invade so many nations,  
A vain renown by restless toils to win,  
And make the ending of one war begin  
Another still; wise Cyneas asked his Lord  
What comfort all those labours should afford  
His life at last. When all is overcome,  
we'll live (quoth Pyrrhus) merrily at home.  
So may you now (quoth he.) Why seek you by  
Those toils, what now you have in certainty?  
Nor could vain Pyrrhus answer him, or name  
A real end of his ambitious aim.  
Then use thy time. But if thou only strive  
For so much fame as may more licence give,  
And more sweet relish to thy pleasures, know  
Thou hast already, what thy age could do,  
Attained unto; thy worth enough is known,  
And Crescy field with Bays enough did crown  
Thy youthful brows. Now reap the happy fruit.  
With confidence pursue thy amorous suit.  
Regard not laws, nor popular air at all;  
I'll work thine ends, and Kent's fair Countess shall  
Her bed and beauties yield to thy delight,  
And meet thy wish. 'Twas I that did invite  
The Spartan Dame to Paris arms, and led  
The Queen of Love to young Anchises bed.  
Can she refuse? can wedlock's aery tie  
Or that supposed virtue, Chastity,  
(Poor names, which men, 'gainst natures free intent,  
To rob themselves of pleasure did invent)  
Resist those real arguments, that be  
Opposers here, and proudly plead for thee?  
Alas, what tempted Lady can deny  
Such love, fame, feature, youth and dignity?  
Then weigh not rumour; sit not pining down;  
But freely take, what power can make thine own.  
With that she ceased; when thus fair Arete:  
Heroic Prince, built up by Fate to be  
Bright Honour's great example, England's fame,  
And to succeeding times a glorious name,  
Oh do not stain thy high beginnings now,  
Nor from that Noble path, which hitherto  
Thy farre-admired youth has trod, to serve  
Inglorious lusts and pleasures, do not swerve.  
Those fruits seem sweet to such alone, as live  
(Discerning not man's true prerogative)  
Beasts lives; whose souls are drowned in the flesh,  
Not capable of perfect happiness,  
Nor suffering those celestial seeds to grow,  
Or spring in them, which God at first did sow;  
When purer Souls are not so much in thrall  
To flesh; but that their high original  
They well discern, and oft abstracted fly  
In contemplation of eternity.  
Which spurs them on to spend th' uncertain times  
They have, in glorious deeds, unstained with crimes:  
And such, I know, is Edward's noble aim;  
Thou aemulat'st the ancient Sons of fame;  
Thy worth securely may such stories love;  
thou great examples shame not, but approve.  
Thou knowst that Honour has a cheerful face▪  
And solid joy within; that Nere's base  
Voluptuous feasts and lusts were not so sweet  
As Cato's manly temperance: nor yet  
So truly safe Sardanapalus ease  
As were the labours of great Hereules.  
Though Vertnes ways seem rough at first to be,  
The habit makes them sweet; nor teaches she  
Her noble scholars only to endure  
Cold, hunger, thirst, or labour: but secure  
To overcome them, and to make all these  
Their trophies rather than their grievances,  
And not to fear what Death itself can do,  
Which Pleasures strength could never reach unto.  
Oh give not way to this thy wanton flame,  
Nor tempt the honour of that Princely Dame;  
Love may hereafter bless thee there, and may  
Assist thy wishes in a lawful way.  
Great Chiefs, among their other marks of fame,  
Have gained by noble Continence a name.  
Think on that Roman Worthy, whose high story  
Thou readest so oft and aemulat'st his glory,  
That Scipio, who first 'gainst Carthage fought.  
And his great name from conquerred Africa brought;  
In heat of youth, as thou art now, was he  
When Spain's new Carthage, than a Colony  
Of Africans, by warlike force he won.  
Great was the pillage of that wealthy Town;  
But 'mongst their store of captives, one there was  
A noble Virgin, that did far surpass  
The rest; her wondrous beauty did amaze  
The Conquerors; no Roman eyes durst gaze  
On that bright form, but straight became her thrall  
(Though Captive she.) The youthful General  
Began himself to feel Loves powerful flame.  
But that a noble virtue overcame,  
And quenched again. With gentle words he cheered  
The maid, and all her love and fortunes heard;  
Then to that Prince, to whom she was affied,  
Delivered freely his unstained Bride.  
The land admired him; and that act there won  
As much as his successful sword had done.  
Of such a temper art thou made (I know)  
Brave Prince; as much to thee as Scipio  
Of deathless fame is meant by Destiny.  
As much thy hand shall act in France, as he  
In Spain or Africa, and a greater King  
Than Syphax was, shalt thou to England bring.  
Forsake not therefore Virtues ways, who will  
Thy best desires, thy highest aims fulfil,  
To her Heröike Edward's heart inclined;  
And now resolved to cure his lovesick mind  
He musters all the thoughts of war and fame.  
The Nymphs were vanished; when brave Chandois came  
Into his presence; he relates the news  
Of France; and great King Edward's purpose shows.  
Well does the War his father had designed  
For him to manage, suit black Edward's mind.  
Those gallant Lords, that had resolved to fight  
Against th' injurious French for Edward's right,  
Are all prepared, and from the English shore  
With Fates auspicious soon transported o'er.   

Whilst France from them must England's prowess feel,  
The King 'gainst Scotland draws his vengeful steel  
Enraged for Berwicks' sack. A furious road  
(Although their King a prisoner yet abode  
In Edward's hands) some Scots had lately made.  
Whom gold from France had tempted to invade  
The North of England: Berwicke Town they took,  
The pillage gained; dismantled, and forsook  
The town again. Great Edward not content  
To gain his own, unless the foes repent,  
And dear rue their rash presumption too,  
Wi●h dreadful force and fury marches through  
The bowels of their land: for want of foes  
The empty towns and walls he overthrows.  
Nor are religious Monasteries free  
Or privileged from his hostility.  
And though to conquest of the land inclined,  
(For all his right the Ballioll had resigned  
To him at Roxburgh) so he marched on,  
That men might deem by his invasion  
He did not mean his conquest to enjoy,  
Or came not to possess, but to destroy.  
At last to Berwicke, when his vengeful ire  
Again was vanished, back does he retire  
To build her ruined walls more fair and strong,  
And brings with him the Ballioll along,  
I est left behind he might again recall  
His resignation: but no aid at all  
To Edward's purpose could his title bring,  
Whom Scotland never would acknowledge King.  
The people's hearts did with King David live.  
Those hearts to Edward, Ballioll could not give.   

Night's silent charms all eyes in slumber closed;  
When lo, while Edward in his tent reposed,  
He dreamt before him armed Scotland stood;  
Her martial visage pale with loss of blood,  
Which through her loosened helmet did appear;  
The furious Lion her broad shield did bear.  
And thus with sober Majesty she spoke  
At last: why furious Edward dost thou make  
These sad invasions? and so vainly strive  
To ravish hence what war shall never give,  
My Crown and Sceptre, not ordained to be  
The sword's reward or spoil of victory?  
This truth thy Grandsire might at length have found,  
Who did so oft my bleeding bosom wound  
(Although not unrevenged.) In threescore years  
That last have passed, what alternate tears  
For noble sons with me has England shed!  
What crimson streams have we two sisters bled!  
What mutual wounds have thy stern Grandsires' blade,  
My warlike Bruce, and thou, great Edward, made!  
Yet all in vain. No conquest can unite  
Whom our great God is purposed to invite  
A sweeter way to bonds of unity.  
This knot a Monarch's happy birth must tie:  
Although before those Halcyon days (alas.)  
Shall many years and strange adventures pass.  
Thy seed commixed with ours shall then enjoy  
What battles cannot purchase, but destroy.  
Blew Neptune's arms, that compass both these lands,  
And now are cruel lists, to join our hands  
As combatants, and make the I'll a stage  
Of our divided Nations war and rage,  
Shall then embrace us as a marriage ring.  
My royal James shall to this Island bring  
By birth, as well as by his reign a peace.  
All rapine, theft, and barbarous feuds shall cease,  
Which now our borders do so much infest.  
And after him, more to confirm those blessed  
And Haltion days, shall Charles from heaven be sent,  
Whose pious, just, and temp rate government  
Shall teach the world that peaceful Virtues bring  
As true and lasting honour to a King  
As by victorious wars can be obtained,  
Or by the blood of slaughtered Nations gained.  
That they more sweetly set a Monarch forth:  
As Aristides and good Cato's worth  
Deserve more solid and enduring praise  
Then Marius triumphs or great Pompey's Bays.  
My ransomed King home to his Kingdom send,  
And these so bloody jars (and bootless) end.  
Strive not 'gainst Fate. With that she vanished.  
While Edward waked, lay musing on his bed,  
A messenger arrived at the tent,  
That from his sister, Scotland's Queen, was sent,  
Who sued for her beloved Lord's release.  
Great Edward 'gan relent, and terms of peace  
Resolved t' embrace, fates only did ordain  
That David there a prisoner should remain  
Till he in woes a partner find, and see  
A greater King in that captivity,  
That, weighing well the loss of potent France,  
He may the more excuse wars fatal chance.   

Past Touraine now the Prince of Wales was come,  
And through Poictou to Bordeaux marching home,  
After so many great achievements done,  
So many Towns and stately Cities won,  
His men enriched, the French endamaged more  
Than all th'incursions that had been before  
Could make them feel; when th'open hand of war  
(Though uncontrolled it let him pass so far)  
Beside Poitiers presents itself, to stay  
This youthful Lion and redeem the prey.  
Or else kind Fortune thought the prey to be  
Too mean for her black Edward's dignity;  
Nor had the forts, the Cities he had won,  
As strong Narbon, and stately Carcason  
With all the pillage gained (in her esteem)  
Or fame or danger great enough for him:  
Unless this wondrous battle had been fought,  
From which a captive Monarch should be brought  
With fame as great to him, as e'er before  
One field could give to any Conqueror.   

Few were Prince Edward's troops; King john of France  
Armed with his kingdom's choicest puissance,  
And all the flower of French Nobility,  
With a resolve unfortunate, though high,  
Pursued the Prince; to make him that sad day  
A dear account for all his voyage pay.  
His passages they cut off every way,  
In hope to seize what they esteemed their prey,  
But proved too strong for their weak arms to hold.  
So when Getulian hunters too too bold  
A furious Lion round about beset,  
And will not let him scape; they vainly whet  
The beast's high courage; whose collected ire  
(To them as deadly as enclosed fire)  
Breaks forth at last; his danger anger moves,  
And fatal only to the hunters proves.   

Not far from Poitiers town brave Edward was,  
And there encamped, nor further could he pass,  
Nor longer shun the battles fatal stroke.  
Him there King John's huge army overtook.  
His wisely seated camp on every side  
Was both by pains and Nature fortified.  
Thick Vines and bushes round had fenced the place  
Hard for the French Cavalry to pass.  
With poor eight thousand there entrenched he lies  
Against six times as many enemies;  
And disadvantaged so, a courage showed  
As great as was the fortune that ensued.  
Men knew not which to wonder at, that he  
With such a strength durst hope for victory,  
Or that he gained it; that he stood the blow,  
Or that he gave so great an overthrow.   

The Cardinal of Perigortin vain  
Had strived long by treaties to detain  
King John's resolved fury from the fight,  
(As much bewailing Edward's woeful plight.)  
In vain had Edward offered to restore  
All towns and forts that he had gained before,  
And satisfy for all the damage done.  
But Fate (to work his fall) had blinded john,  
No other terms will be accepted now  
But that Prince Edward with a hundred more  
His chiefest Knights, and noblest in the field  
Should to his hands themselves as prisoners yield.  
These base conditions Edward scorns to take,  
And to the King returns defiance back.  
His valiant troops agree, resolved to dye,  
Or spite of odds to gain a victory.  
Whom thus their most undaunted Prince bespoke:  
Brave Countrymen, if I have skill to take  
Presage of future fortune: when I see  
Your looks your not despairing industry,  
Which, all the time that our vain treaties were,  
About your camp could work with such a cheer,  
Me thinks I swell with hopes; nor could be sad  
If twice as many that proud army had.  
But that I know their numbers fright not you,  
I could, brave soldiers, by example show  
How useless thronging numbers prove in war.  
Then why should john presume on that so far  
To make such proud conditions, as that we  
For fear of him should choose captivity?  
And yield ourselves as prisoners to the foe,  
Before the chance of war have made us so?  
By which our honour we had quite forgone,  
Honour our Country's jewel, not our own,  
By her entrusted to us, which when I  
Forget to keep, let me valued die.  
How great a price is on this battle set!  
If we subdue, no army ever yet  
In all the books of fame was honoured more:  
A richer Bays no Nation ever wore:  
But if we die, those conquering soldiers,  
Whom bleeding France has often felt, and fears,  
Survive in England our revenge to take.  
But God, that gives all victories, can make  
Our own swords do't. There is no soldier here  
But does already some French trophy wear.  
Here fight those arms, who from the Norman wars,  
From Britain's conquest brought victorious scars,  
Those noble names, whom Crescy field renowned,  
And Sluice before with Naval Garlands crowned.  
Then by such armed friends environed, why  
Should I at all despair of victory?  
The Prince had done; th' undaunted soldiers show  
By cheerful signs, they dare abide the foe.   

Too confident of victory King John  
In three large battles draws his army on,  
On fire to charge, nor could his heat forbear;  
When he, that led the first Battalia there,  
His brother Orleans with sage advice  
Thus spoke: oh Sir, forbear your enemies  
A while: defer the days uncertain chance,  
And let this conquest cost no blood of France.  
We need not fight at all; the famished foe  
Our strengths environ round, he cannot go  
To forage now, nor fetch provision in.  
To feel that want already they begin,  
It will become their wish on swords to dye,  
And mix their ruin with our tragedy.  
But why should we (against a Christian host)  
Refuse that conquest, that no blood will cost?  
And rather hasten in their tragic fall  
To bear a part? without a wound at all  
The captive Prince shall be at your command.  
Then why should you with danger thrust your hand  
To quench that flame, that would itself expire,  
And battle more than victory desire?  
Sound was the Duke's advice; brave Edward's day  
In midst of Fates had vanished away,  
Nor so had headless France been overrun  
Had that been followed; but unhappy john▪  
Whom Fate had blinded, thus in wrath replies:  
Does that poor handful of the enemies  
Affright your courage brother? can you weigh  
'Gainst such a prize the danger? to what day  
Should France her fortune ever trust, if here  
She should misdoubt her swords? and feeding fear  
By such fly courses seek to steal renown,  
Not take it boldly, as our Nation  
Have ever used? if famine, not the sword  
Should here to us a victory afford,  
The boasting English, who so oft of late  
'Gainst us have proved in battle fortunate  
Even in our kingdom's bosom, would not know  
Whither the French could win by sword or no.  
With that the signal's given. In full career  
They charge that little English band; who there  
With well collected spirits stand, t' abide  
Their fiercest onset: and on every side  
Return sharp death, and furious force for force.  
Their mortal arrows gall th' approaching horse.  
Nor is the chevalry of France o'erthrown  
By th' English archers only: but their own  
Rash fury helps to draw their ruin on,  
And on themselves does execution.  
In vines, shrubs, bushes, that environed round  
Prince Edward's armies well-elected ground,  
Th' entangled horse with miserable fate  
Their riders and themselves praecipitate,  
And to their foes become an easy spoil;  
(As beasts of greatest courage in a toil  
Ensnared, almost without resistance dye)  
While 'gainst the rest that stand, the archers ply  
Their fatal task: the wounded horses fall  
Fowl on their fellows every where; through all  
The troop reigns nothing but confusion.  
Those chevalliers, that came so bravely on,  
And seemed themselves enough the day to gain,  
In this disorder tumbled down are flame;  
Nor can so few of English hands suffice  
To execute their routed enemies.  
Now wondrous sad the spectacle was grown;  
In all her foulest shapes was horror shown.  
The mangled limbs of riders, that of late  
Were proudly mounted, by preposterous fate  
Beneath the horses bloodyed hooves are trod.  
With heaps confused the mourning fields are strowed;  
The dikes are filled with slaughter, while the blood  
Of men and horses make one purple flood,  
As if in nature they had been the same,  
And from the wounds of slaughtered Centaurs came.   

Now to the French infantry at last  
(Which far behind the horse King john had placed,  
And vainly thought that in the action  
He should not need their hands; the horse alone  
Would gain the day) the furious war was brought.  
But they, alas, amazed before they fought  
To see the horsemen's wondrous overthrow,  
And now assaulted by the conquering foe  
Gave ground apace: The first hot charge that brave  
And valiant Lord renowned Audley gave;  
Who to perform a noble vow, in deeds  
Almost the prowess of a man exceeds;  
And like the stroke of Jove's resistless thunder  
Shoots forth, and breaks the strongest ranks in sunder.  
Here in the thickest throng of enemies  
Like Thracian Mars himself, black Edward plies  
Death's fatal task: here noble Warwick gives  
A furious onset: there brave Suffolk strives  
T'outgoe the foremost; aemulations fire  
Is kindled now, and blazes high; desire  
Of honour drowns all other passions there,  
Not in the Chiefs alone; each soldier  
In that small army feels bright honours flame,  
And labours to maintain his proper fame.  
ne'er was a battle through all parts so fought,  
Nor such high wonders by an handful wrought.  
White Victory, that scared above beheld  
How every English hand throughout the field  
Was stained with blood; amazed to see the day,  
And that so few should carry her away.   

The fields no more their verdure can retain,  
Enforced now to take a purple stain,  
And be obscured with slaughter, while the wounds  
Of France manure her own unhappy grounds,  
Where mixed with Plebeian funerals  
Her greatest Princes dye: There Bourbon falls,  
And Marshal Clermont welters in his gore:  
There noble Charney's beat down, that bore  
The standard royal that sad day; here dies  
Athens great Duke, there valiant Eustace lies,  
Who, as a badge of highest honour, wore  
A Chaplet of bright pearls, that had before  
(When by King Edward in a skirmish, near  
To Calleis, he was taken prisoner)  
As testimony of his prowess showed  
Been by that royal enemy bestowed.  
But 'mongst so many noble funerals  
Of France, one star of English prowess falls  
From his bright sphere, with sorrow to allay  
The high success of that victorious day;  
Renowned Audley, that so long had fought  
In front of all the English power, and wrought  
High feats at Arms, by many wounds bereft  
Of spirits, sinks down at last; but is not left  
To th'Enemy; four valiant Squires engage  
Themselves for him against the fiercest rage  
Of foes, and bear their wounded Lord away.  
Whom gently down in freshest air they lay  
Past hope of life, alas, but gentle Death  
So long gave respite to his latest breath  
Till he his Countries full renown might see,  
And Edward graced with perfect victory.   

Great are the French Battalia's, and in room  
Of those that fall, so oft fresh soldiers come,  
So oft the bloody fight's renewed, that now  
The English weary with subduing grow,  
And 'ginne to faint, oppressed with odds so great.  
When lo, to make the victory complete,  
Six hundred bowmen (whom to that intent  
Before the battle the brave Prince had sent  
Abroad well mounted now come wheeling o'er  
The field, and charge the French behind so sore,  
As with confusion did distract them quite;  
And now an execution, not a fight  
Ensues; all routed that great army flies  
A prey to their pursuing enemies.   

With his disheartened battles Orleans  
Forsakes the field; with him the heir of France,  
Young Charles of Normandy, and thousands more  
Not overthrown but frighted by the foe.  
Nor are the English, though enough to gain  
The day, enough in number to maintain  
So great a chase; and not so well suffice  
To follow, as subdue their enemies.  
Nor yet (which more declared the conquest sent  
From heaven alone, to strike astonishment  
In overweening mortals, and to show  
Without that aid how little Man can do)  
Are all the English conquerors in field  
Enough to take so many French as yield,  
Nor to receive the Prisoners that come.  
Though some in field are ransomed and sent home;  
Yet more from thence are captive borne away  
Than are the hands that won so great a day.   

Yet did the King, almost forsaken quite  
By all his men, maintain a noble fight,  
As if ashamed to outlive the sad  
Discomfiture, which his own rashness made.  
Nor did his faltering hands even then forget  
To play a soldier's part, appearing yet  
Worthy the fear of his assaling foe,  
While death attended every furious blow.  
Too late that prowess comes; and he in vain  
By personal valour hopes to cure again  
That malady which ill conduct begat.  
No soldiers valiant deed can expiate  
A general's folly; nor one private hand  
Redeem the errors of a King's command.  
Thither to crown their actions high success  
Th' ambitious valours of the English press  
With greedy hope to seize the royal prey,  
The greatest prize of that victorious day.  
But too too great it seemed for one alone,  
By many hands the King is seized upon.  
Nor had it cost less than a civil war  
To judge whose right so great a prisoner  
Should prove in field, and that rich claim decide▪  
On English swords had many English died,  
And in that storm the captive King of France  
Himself had perished, had not timely chance  
Presented rescue; noble Warwick came,  
And from that rabble in Prince Edward's name  
Demanded him; whose presence seemed to bring  
Not thraldom then but safety to the King.  
There was Prince Philip ta'en, his youngest son,  
Who, when his brothers all were fled and gone,  
Still by his father's side the fight maintained,  
And in that field the name of Hardy gained.  
And now the swords sad work was ended quite,  
When, that the wearied soldiers, who from fight  
Or from the chase returned back, might spy  
Their place of rendezvous, displayed on high  
Upon an hill Prince Edward's banner stood.  
To which the soldiers smeared with dust and blood  
Laden with spoils and wealthy prisoners come.  
Some leading three in bands, some four, to some  
Did five belong; that whosoever had been  
A stranger to the battle, and there seen  
Them altogether, had supposed then  
The Camp to be of French, not Englishmen▪   

Annotations upon the fifth Book.  
ᵃ Concerning the slaughter of this miraculous battle of Poitiers, and the numbers of which both Armies consisted, we find thus, (for though Historians differ, it is not much.) The Prince his Army contained not in all above eight thousand; of whom the greatest part were Archers; the French King (according to most Wr●●rs) had threescore thousand; and no writer at all speaks the number much less. The slaughter on their side was exceeding great; for besides fifty Lords (of whom the chief were Peter of Bourbon Duke of Athens, high Constable of France, john Clermont Martial; George of Charney, Lord great Chamberlain, etc.) there fell about seventeen hundred Knights, Esquires, and Gentlemen bearing coats of Arms; and of common soldiers there died about six thousand in the field, besides those that fell in the chase, or were beaten down under the walls of Poitiers. The list of Prisoners comprehended these great names, john King of France, Philip his Son, afterward Duke of Burgoigne, the Archbishop of Sens, james of Bourbon Earl of Ponthieu, john of Artois, Earl of Yew; Charles his brother, Earl of Longuevile; Charles Earl of Vendosme; the Earls of Tankervile, Salbruch, Nassaw, Dampmartine, La-Roch, with many other great Lords, and about two thousand Knights, Esquires, and Gentlemen bearing armouries. Many Prisoners had been ransomed in the field, and some let go, for fear of the danger that might have ensued by retaining a greater number of Prisoners than themselves were.    

THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.  
The sixth Book.  
Argument VI.  

With fire and sword King Edward uncontrolled  
Wastes wretched France: Prince Edward's love is told▪  
King john of France is ransomed home again.  
The Prince is sent to govern Aquitaine.   

THe chase together with the day was done,  
And all returned: in his pavilion  
Brave Edward feasts the Royal prisoner.  
At which as noble did the Prince appear  
As erst in battle, and by sweetness won  
As great a conquest as his sword had done.  
No fair respect, or honour, that might cheer  
That King's afflicted breast, was wanting there,  
No reverence nor humble courtesy,  
That might preserve his state and dignity  
But Edward showed at full; and at the feast  
In person waited on his captive guest.   

But what content, what object fit could Fate  
Present to comfort such a changed state,  
Or cheer the King's perplexed soul at all?  
New is the wound; nor do his thoughts recall  
A long-past glory, where the hand of time  
(Best cure of grief) might ease the smart; but him,  
Whose state the morning Sun had seen so high,  
This night beholds in sad captivity.  
His restless passions rolling to and fro  
No calm admit; when thus his noble foe  
Prince Edward spoke; Great King for such you are  
In my thoughts still, whatever the chance of war  
Have lately wrought against you here) forgive  
Your humble kinsman's service, if I strive  
To ease your sorrow, and presume to do  
What is too much for me, to counsel you;  
Do not deject your Princely thoughts, or think  
The Martial fame that you have gained, can sink  
In one successelesse field; or too much fear  
Your Nations honour should be tainted here.  
men's strengths and honours we most truly try  
Where fields are fought with most equality.  
But God was pleased to make this day's success  
The more miraculous, that we the less  
Might challenge to ourselves, and humbly know  
That in so great and strange an overthrow  
Some secret judgement of our God was wrought:  
And that the sword of heaven, not England, fought.  
All foreign Nations will expound it so,  
That are by noble stories taught to know  
What your French arms in Eastern lands have done,  
What trophies you have raised, what Garlands won  
Against the faithless Saracens, whose wounds  
So oft have flowed on Iuda's holy grounds,  
And stained with purple Siria's swarthy face.  
And can the fortune of one field disgrace  
A Nation of so great Nobility?  
And for yourself, great King, all history  
That shall hereafter to the world make known  
Th'event of Poitiers battle, shall renown  
Your personal prowess; which appeared so high  
As justly seemed to challenge victory,  
Had not God's secret providence opposed:  
But though his will, great Sir, have thus disposed,  
Your state remains, your person and your fame  
Shall in my humble thoughts be still the same.  
And till my father see your face, to show  
How he respects your worth and state; to you  
As to himself, were he in person here,  
In all observance Edward shall appear.  
The noble King a while amazed to see  
Victorious youth so full of Courtesy,  
At last replies: Brave Cousin, you have shown  
Yourself a man built up for true renown;  
And, as in action of the wars, to be  
This age's Phoenix in humanity.  
Why do you wrong me thus, as to enthrall  
Me doubly? not insulting o'er my fall  
You rob me Cousin, of that sole renown  
Which I, though vanquished, might have made mine own  
To bear adversity. I might have showed,  
Had you been proud, a passive fortitude;  
And let the world, though I were fallen, see  
What spirit I had in scorning misery.  
But you have robbed me of that honour now,  
And I am bound in honour to allow  
That noble theft, content (since such are you)  
To be your captive and your debtor too.  
And since my Stars ordained a King of France  
Armed with such odd, so great a puissance,  
Must in a fatal field be lost, to raise  
So great a trophy to another's praise:  
I am best pleased it should advance thy story,  
And John's dishonour be Prince Edward's glory.  
What love the virtues of a noble foe  
May win, did that great Persian Monarch show,  
Who prayed, if he must from his kingdom fall,  
That Alexander might succeed in all.  
The Prince all signs of humble love expressed;  
And when the banquet ended, to his rest  
Conducts the King, if any rest at all  
His thoughts could take after so great a fall.   

Next morn had cheered the earth with Phoebus' light.  
And from the Pole removed the damps of night  
When with his host victorious Edward goes  
Marching along without control of foes.  
near to the walls of Poitiers town he passed.  
Who shut their gates, and all their guards had placed  
For fear of him. But no such thought had he.  
Enough of miracle it seemed to be  
If with so many prisoners, and so great  
A spoil, that small enriched host could get  
Safe to their journey's end. Through all Poictou,  
And through the County of Xantoigne they go,  
The French admiring, but resisting not,  
Till to the river side at Blays they got.  
Which with their wealth and prisoners all they passed,  
And at fair Bordeaux safe arrived at last:   

Sad fame before had into England brought  
The Prince his danger. What amazed thought  
Could hope (alas) for conquest there? or who  
Durst think that valour disadvantaged so  
Could work itself a passage? fear possessed  
All English hearts; and great King Edward's breast  
Revenge had entered in as horrid height  
As France could fear, or that great cause invite.  
How many Cities had he doomed to sack?  
And men to death? but Fame could not be slack.  
Fate would not suffer England long to err;  
Nor such a days triumphant joy defer.  
But on a sudden, as the golden Sun,  
When darkest thunder-clouds are newly gone,  
Shoots forth again in all his glorious light,  
That men amazed scarce dare trust their sight,  
They hear of Poitiers battle, of the high  
And strange success. But incredulity  
A while the freedom of that joy controls,  
For fear of too much surfeiting their souls  
With such a change. So slowly they receive  
Th' unlooked for news, and by degrees believe,  
That even their eyes are satisfied as soon  
As are their ears almost; nor had the Moon  
Thrice filled her orb before (to second fame)  
With that great King victorious Edward came.  
Oh how to Plymouth, where the Paince arrived  
From every part the people flocked, and strived  
Betimes to kiss that Martial hand, and see  
So great a prize of one days vi●●ory  
Now safe at home! as much was all the way  
From thence to London, as their progress lay,  
With shows adorned, and thronging people filled▪  
Where (equal to his prowess) they beheld  
The Prince his goodness; how he humbly road  
Below the King; no pride his gesture showed:  
But such respect as if he did not bring  
In triumph thither, but attend a King.   

Where, noble Edward, shall we find for thee  
A parallel in true humanity?  
What ancient Prince or modern ever showed  
So sweet a temper joined with fortitude?  
What Conqueror did ever use success  
More modestly, or stain his fortune less?  
Imperial Rome in her most virtuous age,  
(When wisest writers durst by strong presage  
Affirm the world's sole Empire due to be  
Not to her strength, but her morality)  
Knew no such virtue to great Princes falls.  
How far unlike it her proud Generals  
In that inhuman pomp of Triumphs dealt,  
Jugurtha, Syphax, and great Perseus felt.  
And yet what Roman Army e'er could boast  
A nobler conquest than thy English host  
At Poitiers battle won? without Rome's vice  
Her greatest virtues thou didst equalise  
In that great act: and showd'st, as then was tried,  
The Roman prowess, not the Roman pride.  
With joy as great, but more magnificence  
Did London welcome her triumphant Prince,  
Where great King Edward with all courtesy  
Receives King john of France; as if that he  
Did emulate the virtue of his son;  
Or rather would approve what he had done;  
And, by that noble moderation show  
Himself the stock from whence Prince Edward grew.  
Within his sumptuous hall at Westminster  
He entertains and feasts them all▪ and there  
The pensive King with gentle speeches cheers.  
To all the other princely prisoners  
The like respect the Lords of England give;  
And at the board in full-crowned goblets strive  
To banish from their breasts all thoughts of care.  
O'er which old Heroes fortunes, and the rare  
Events of ancient battles they relate.  
So o'er the Wine in massy Phthian plate  
Talked great Achilles in his tent at night;  
When he the Grecian Princes did invite.  
But he whose noble actions were become  
The argument of every tongue, on whom  
The greedy eyes of all were fixed there,  
Prince Edward seems himself of heavy cheer,  
A greater captive in his own sad thought,  
Than those that he from Poitiers battle brought.  
Nor could great Mars with all his honours heal  
The wound that love had made. Deep sighs would steal  
Sometimes from him, although with care repressed,  
And speak the inward passions of his breast.  
Among the sparkling beauties, that resort  
More to enlighten this triumphant Court,  
His Love-ficke eyes do often wander round  
To find (although he fear to find his wound)  
Kent's beauteous Countess. But no where at all  
Does she appear, nor was the festival  
Graced with her presence. Soon had she been spied  
If there; nor could so bright a star be hid.  
But missing her, his other passions rise.  
A thousand doubts and jealous fears surprise  
His loving breast at once. Alas what crime  
Of Fate should he suspect? at such a time  
Of Courtly state and high magnificence,  
What cruel cause should keep the Lady thence?  
fain would he know, yet blushes to inquire;  
And, though he burn, still strives to hide the fire.  
As many men whose sudden ruines nigh,  
Have been in height of all their jollity:  
And some have been observed in pensive mood  
Just then, when Fate contrives their greatest good  
Even so it fares with Princely Edward here;  
Who fears the worst, and cannot think how near  
Th'accomplishment of his desires should be.  
Till to remove the sad uncertainty,  
Some Lords discoursing, do by chance relate  
How noble Holland was deceased of late.  
A sudden change in Edward's looks appears;  
Again the passions alter; doubts or fears  
(Since now to every eye the cause is plain  
That did the Countess from this feast detain)  
No longer hold possession in his breast;  
Love freely enters to displace the rest.  
The Prince resolves his pleasing fuit to move,  
And, spite of all opposers, gain his love.   

In Savoy Palace, when the feast is ended,  
King John of France is lodged, and thence attended  
In fitting state to Windsor Castle, there  
T' enjoy what sports the season of the year  
Would yield; what games the Country could present  
To give a King's perplexed thoughts content.  
And David, King of Scotland, that ten year  
Had been detaided in England prisoner,  
Is ransomed home, since England seems to be  
Secured from France by John's captivity.  
Unhappy France, whilst England nothing knows  
But joys and triumphs, now overwhelmed with woes  
Sits like a mourning widow, wails her fate;  
And she that was the pride of Europe late,  
Is fallen from all her glories, and become  
The pity of astonished Christendom;  
Her bosom filled with sad confusion;  
And rebel members, while the head is gone,  
Do from their safe and wholesome order fall.  
The Royal City Paris most of all  
Is out of joint, that should the rest redeem.  
Sick even to death does this great kingdom seem.  
Nor can the Cure be sudden; for the Sun  
Five times through his celestial signs must run,  
Before King john of France be ransomed home.  
Yet healthier far for France in time to come  
Shall this Confusion and long sickness prove.  
(By such unlooked-for ways the Powers above  
Do work in their disposing Providence)  
Wise Charles the Dauphine by experience  
Of those disordered and rough times, shall gain  
So true a wisdom, as his prosperous reign  
Shall cure again the wounds of bleeding France;  
His quiet gown her state shall re-advance,  
Recovering all by policy alone,  
Which English swords in those famed battles won,   

But Love with Honour strives to bear a part;  
And cure what he had wounded, Edward's heart.  
Within the house, since her dear husband's Fate  
Had Kent's fair Countess been immured of late,  
Her mourning times not fully yet expired.  
To comfort her, as thus she sat retired,  
The other Ladies daily do resort.  
There they discourse the triumphs of the Court;  
Of every Princely prisoner they tell,  
And on Prince Edward's worth and praises dwell.  
Nor can the mourning Countess choose, however  
Her times may seem, but with true pleasure hear  
His noble story told: from her fair breast  
Sometimes a sigh would steal, not like the rest,  
Nor ought of kin to those sad sighs at all  
She used to fetch for Holland's funeral,  
A Blush would seize her then, as if she knew  
That stranger-sigh encroached on Holland's due.  
But yet she knew not truly whence it came,  
Nor did the spark so soon begin to flame,  
And teach her bosom that the tyrant Love  
As many tears, and sighs as deep can move  
As death by dearest funerals can do.  
Love's winged god into her chamber, though  
Hung with so sad a darkness, and unfit  
For such a guest, had ta'en his secret flight,  
As once into the dark Elysian grove  
Among the silent ghosts, as if he strove  
To show no place so melancholy were  
But that his godhead could or change or cheer.  
Love-care in time his place 'bove sorrow takes,  
And by degrees another watching makes  
Her pale, and reaves the quiet of her breast.  
And whensoe'er she takes her flumbering rest,  
No dreams of death are sent: Before her eyes  
Moves Edward's image in triumphant wise,  
Like Liber clad in golden arms, when from  
The spiced Ind he came with conquest home,  
And yoked Tigers his proud chariot drew  
She dreamt (and could not choose but wish it true,  
Nor did th'event prove less) that Love appeared  
In such a shape as she had often heard  
The Boy described, and thus gently spoke  
To her at last: Now is the time to take  
What was ordained thee, fair Plantagenet,  
Fate pitied thee, and would no longer let  
That Royal blood and heavenly beauty lie  
Eclipsed in a private family.  
Let all thy thoughts of sorrow now expire  
For Holland's death, and cherish Edward's sire  
As did thy fathers, so thy seed shall reign;  
And thou descended from the Crown, again  
Art bound to propagate the royal stem,  
And bear an Heir to England's Diadem.  
But when the Countess from this flattering sleep  
(For such it seemed) was waked, sighing deep  
She 'gan accuse Days too ambitious thought,  
That had by night so vain a vision brought;  
Resolved to check that thought for evermore,  
And rather court the sorrow, which before  
Her breast had lodged. She studies to recall  
Her mourning, and on Holland's funeral  
Again to fix, thinking that grief more free  
From torture, than an hopeless love can be.  
Why was I cursed (quoth she) by envious Fate?  
Did not the mournings of a widowed state  
Seem sad enough to punish me, unless  
A passion more than frantic should possess  
My breast, and wound it deeper than it was?  
Why should I hope for Edward's love (alas?)  
Or fond think the heir of England's Crown,  
And such a Prince as he, high in renown  
As in his Royal birth, and now become  
The only Theme of praise in Christendom,  
On whom the greatest Monarches would bestow  
Their fairest daughters, should descend so low  
As give that precious love to me, and grace  
The beauties of a widow's waning face?  
Too much ambition had it been for me  
To hope, nay think of such a dignity  
In my fresh Virgin flower, and blooming prime:  
Much more (alas) in this autumnal time,  
When like a sullied Lily, or a Rose  
Too fully blown, my fading beauty shows.  
That for a Prince his love is too much wasted,  
Whose sweets two subjects have already tasted.  
Yet Edward's looks, and frequent visits here  
Seem to betoken Love, if with uncleare  
And partial eyes my state I did not see,  
And so suppose his noble Courtesy  
To be Love-passion. But (alas) we all  
Are our own flatterers; and I miscall  
That Love, which is a kinsman's kind regard.  
Oh would that name of nearness could be spared!  
In that again, as in his high estate,  
Am I debarred from such a blessed Fate,  
And by that nearness farther from his love▪  
But Dispensations of the Church remove  
Those obstacles, and nearer kindred tie.  
Oh wherefore wander my wild thoughts so high!  
Sink down for aye, false hope; disturb no more  
The quiet grief that I enjoyed before.   

Thus would she strive those fancies to remove;  
But his kind visits still renewed her love;  
And as her flame encreas'st, his noble heart  
Was more and more pierced with Love's golden dart,  
Until at last Prince Edward, to prevent  
All others, plainly told his kind intent;  
And both their wishes in so full a joy  
Are met, too high for fortune to destroy,  
Though she a while defer their Nuptial rites,  
And growing war break off Loves sweet delights.   

For while the French delay by treaties vain  
The ransom of their King; sad France again  
Is forced to feel revengeful Edward's hands;  
Who with a great and powerful army lands  
At Calleis, marching through the heart of France.  
In three Battalia's his whole puissance  
Is drawn along; himself conducting one:  
Another led by his renowned son:  
The third by Henry, Duke of Lancaster.  
'Gainst whom while no resisting foes appear,  
They wast and spoil the Country: without fight  
The greatest Cities to his force submit;  
Burgundia's Duke at Edward's conquering hands  
With money buys the safety of his lands.  
Aras is ta'en, with many towns beside.  
Within fair Paris strongly fortified  
With all his forces Charles the Dauphin lay;  
Whom Edward dares to trial of the day.  
But wary Charles instructed by the sad  
Success his father ●●d his Grandsire had,  
Within the walls contains his army now;  
Nor to the hazard of one fatal blow  
Against the English dares he trust his strength.  
Whence Edward, after his vain stay, at length  
Draws back his forces, when no hope he sees  
At all of fight with his enemies.  
Much less he hoped to force a Town so strong.  
Wasting the wretched Countries all along  
As far as Chartres uncontrolled he goes;  
But there, although no mortal strength oppose,  
God's mighty hand does th'English host dismay.  
Black on a sudden grows the troubled day.  
Heaven's cheerful face wrapped in a pitchy cloud  
No beam sheds forth, while cracks of thunder loud  
Rend all the air, and in the frighted eyes  
Of every soldier horrid lightning flies  
In more than usual manner; and anon  
Like murdering stones thrown from a Castle down  
Upon th'assailants fatal hailstones fall  
Of such amazing greatness over all  
The English army, that nor man nor horse  
Is able to endure their fatal force▪  
But both together are beat down and slain,  
While thousands dying strew the purple plain.  
The wretched Soldiers feel, but cannot see  
The wondrous cause of this great tragedy▪  
Some with amaze and fear are almost killed,  
Some only overthrown: but all hearts filled  
Withsad destruction, think the day of doom,  
And dissolution of the world is come.  
Or else surprised with more particular fears,  
They deem (alas) some winged Messengers  
Of God above against their camp are sent  
T' inflict on them immediate punishment.  
As once an Angel sent from God did smite  
The host of proud Senacherib by night.  
Great Edward sadly trembles, every where  
Enforced his dying soldiers groans to hear.  
But when the horror of the storm was gone,  
The darkness vanished, and bright daylight shone  
On them again, and had discovered all,  
His heart relents, and in the pitied fall  
Of his poor men he thinks he truly sees  
God's wrath for all those Christian tragedies  
Which his victorious sword in France had wrought,  
And all the woes he had on Scotland brought.  
Never before did Edward's pensive breast  
Truly revolve how tragic is the best  
Success that war 'gainst Christian lands affords,  
What impious wounds, his sadly conquering swords  
Had made in Europe; all the battels won  
(Since first that fatal title he begun  
To set on foot) are running in his thought;  
Now Crescy, Poitiers, Halidowne are brought  
Into his fad remembrance; and almost  
He wishes all his triumphs had been lost  
Rather than with such horrid slaughter won.  
For which in penitent Devotion  
His knees in Chartres Temple Edward bows,  
Forgiveness begs for what is past, and vows  
Thenceforth the fury of his sword shall cease,  
And he with wretched France conclude a peace  
On easier terms than erst he stood upon,  
Home to his land restoring ransomed john.   

Few months had passed, before this good intent  
Of pious Edward found accomplishment▪  
At Brettigny so well on either side  
The Agents dealt, that peace was ratified  
On steady Articles; and John, whom here  
Five painted Springs had seen a prisoner,  
Is to his native land returned back▪  
With kind embraces the two Monarches take  
Their leave at Calleis. With a Royal heart  
So full of love did John from Edward part▪  
So well his usage pleased him, that he  
Intends again in noble courtesy  
To visit England, and for favours done  
To thank great Edward and his Princely son.   

The bloody storms of war away are blown,  
And white-winged peace from heaven descended down  
To cheer fair France her late afflicted state;  
Whilst England's quiet Court does celebrate  
At once two Princely Nuptials with as high  
A state as may befit their dignity.  
The Paphian Queen in all her smiles appears.  
His purple robe the pleased Hymen wears,  
When brave Prince Edward (now all lets removed)  
Weds that fair Countess he so long had loved:  
And john of Gaunt enjoys the wealthy heir  
Of Noble Henry, Duke of Lancaster.  
The State at home well settled, to employ  
Prince Edward's worth and raise his dignity,  
He with his Princess, and a noble train  
Is sent away to govern Aquitaine.   

Annotations upon the sixth Book.  
ᵃ Concerning the lowly demeanour of Edward the black Prince toward King john of France, after he had taken him Prisoner in the battle of Poitiers, and the Courteous reception, which King Edward gave him here in England, there were no Authors, either then or since, but did freely acknowledge▪ insomuch, as many years after, Guicciardine an Italian Writer, and therefore indifferent to both Nations, speaking of the wars of Christendom in his time, when Francis the first King of France had been taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia by the soldiers of Charles the fifth Emperor, and King of Spain, and had long been kept in hard durance in the Castle of Madrid, brings in King Francis complaining of his unworthy usage, where comparing the misfortunes of King john with his own, and the wonderful difference of both their entertainments, he much extols the Courtesy of the English Nation, and condemns the Spaniards insolence. And so much did that Courtesy work upon the noble disposition of King john, that (as many of that time thought) it occasioned his voluntary coming into England to visit King Edward not many years after his releasement. Though other occasions there might be of that journey, as the selling of his affairs before his intended voyage to the holy Wars; and yet those perchance might well have been performed by Ambassadors. But howsoever it were, in the year 1364, and of King Edward's Reign, the 38, this King john came into England, and besides him two other Kings, the Kings of Scotland and of Cyprus; where the magnificence of the English Court was well expressed in feasting sumptuously three Kings at once. The King of Scotland, and the King of Cyprus, after they had dispatched their business, returned home to their own kingdoms: but King john of France fell sick, and died at London the year following. His death was much lamented by King Edward, who solemnly attended his corpse to Dover; from whence it was conveyed to Saint Denys, and entombed with his Ancestors.  
ᵇ This miraculous storm of hail stones, which near to Chartres fell upon King Edward's Army, was esteemed, by many of those times, an immediate Messenger of God's wrath for all the Christian blood which King Edward for many years had shed both in France and Scotland. So great was the hail, and so violent the fall of it, that it felled horses to the ground, and slew above two thousand of the English Soldiers. King Edward himself was much astonished, and thought it no less than an immediate judgement of God; upon which in penitence he performed many devotions, and on reasonable terms concluded a peace with France; so that King john was ransomed, and returned home to his own kingdom, after he had remained a prisoner five years in England.    

THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.  
The seventh Book.  
Argument VII.  

Prince Edward marches into Spain to fight  
'Gainst Henry, in deposed Pedro's right.  
At Naveret he beats the strength of Spain,  
And sets Don Pedro in his Throne again.   

PRince Edward's honour was not mounted yet  
Up to her Zenith; Fate is in his debt  
Another Garland, and from Aquitaine  
She calls him forth again; that conquered Spain  
May feel his noble prowess, and advance  
His fame as high as erst triumphed France.  
The tyrant Pedro of Castille was by  
His land deposed for brutish cruelty,  
Whose Crown his Bastard-brother Henry gained.  
At Bordeaux then the Prince of Wales remained,  
Whose fame was spread through every land, and he  
Esteemed the noblest flower of Chivalry  
That Europe boasted. To his Martial Court  
Deposed Pedro humbly does resort,  
And weeping craves Prince Edward's aid, to gain  
His right. That Pedro may his suit obtain  
Beside that blood's alliance that he brings,  
The bad example of deposing Kings,  
Persuades the Prince; and to that brave intent  
His Father, great King Edward, giveth consent.  
At hand great troops of expert soldiers are,  
Cashiered of late from service of the war;  
Who now employment want, since troubles cease  
By France and England's late concluded peace.  
Of those the Prince an a●my soon may take  
For that great war, which he intends to make;  
And happily may free his Country too  
From spoil and rapine which they daily do.  
As much does Henry of Castille provide  
To guard his late-gained Throne; and to his side  
Has gotten many expert troops of France.  
Bertram's their leader, to whose puissance  
In future times, fair France so much shall owe.  
The war to Spain must be removed now.  
Yet there the French 'gainst English fight; wars rage  
The same: and nothing altered but the stage.  
The fortune too shall be the same; and they  
In Spain must grace victorious Edward's day.  
The French must there before the English fall,  
Nor shall the Climate change their fate at all.   

To Bertram's Standard cashiered soldiers flock  
From farthest Provence, Dauphine, Languedocke.  
And other people arm; not they alone  
That till the neighbouring fields, and dwell upon  
Seines nearest banks: but those that see his head;  
And from those mountains where the Marve is bred;  
Who gliding through the meadows of Champagne  
In various windings falls into the Seine.  
And they that live by Isdrus stream; who gets  
Growth from so many rising rivulets,  
Till he himself be swallowed by the Rhone;  
Who by so many large increases grown  
Rolls on his furious billows, and in three  
Fair channels falls into the midland Sea  
From that fair Southern shore, that bounds th'extent  
Of France her rich and spacious continent.   

To Edward's Standard with courageous hopes,  
Beside▪ those active well-provided troops  
That unto him from England crossed o'er,  
Arriving on the Aquitanian shore,  
And with loud clangor filling th' air of France,  
The greatest part of Edward's puissance;  
From France her Northern coast do soldiers come,  
And cashiered troops from farthest South; and from  
The banks of Seure; those that near the bounds  
Of Aquitaine are bred, whose fertile grounds  
Are far together watered by Dordonne;  
And those that see the mouth of famed Garoone;  
With soldiers dwelling on the farthest land  
Of France; where those renowned mountains stand,  
(The bounds of Spain) which, if we trust to fame,  
Did from the fair Pyrene take their name.   

All France in aid of these two Spanish Kings  
Is filled with streaming Ensigns now, and rings  
Of wars alarms; yet ne'er more free from fears;  
Shrill Trumpets sound th'unfrighted plough man hears,  
And loves the noise; 'mongst drums the shepherd swains  
Feed their fair flocks securely on the plains,  
And midst those seeming terrors joyful are  
To hear the sound of a departing war.  
So looked the ancient Gauls then when stern Fate  
Was bend to wound great Rome's divided state.  
And mighty Caesar drew from thence at once  
His there dispersed, and wint'ring Legions.  
When dreadful Classicks in all parts were heard,  
And threatening Eagles every where appeared,  
Yet they rejoiced, and saw in that stout host,  
How great a danger left their quiet coast.   

But while the cheerful Soldiers all prepare,  
And Edward's thoughts are fixed on the war,  
His beauteous wife is sad; those starry eyes  
Oft dimmed with sorrow's clouds; nor can she prise  
So much one conquests fame, or aery praise,  
As she his danger and his absence weighs;  
And thinks how long a time (though he be graced  
With victory) her fears and doubts must last.  
Besides (alas) her tender breast abhorred  
That savage Tyrant, in whose right her Lord  
Himself adventures 'gainst the strength of Spain,  
And thus to him deep-sighing she began:  
Though I should rather to myself deny  
The happiness of Edward's company  
Than love it with so great presumption,  
As, for mine own delights, to hinder one  
Of his resolves: yet pardon, dearest Lord,  
If to mine own desires I do afford  
One place in love: why shouldst thou march so far  
To find out danger? seek a causeless war  
When none provokes thy sword, compelling those,  
That are not in their thoughts, to be thy foes?  
England is safe; firm peace with France is made:  
Nor does this Henry of Castille invade  
Thy lands. But oh dear Edward when I see  
For whom thou mak'st all Spain thine enemy,  
That men! oh no, that monster, in whose right  
Thou go'st, I tremble that my Lord should fight  
For such a tyrant, mankind's enemy,  
Who has outdone in brutish cruelty  
What ever's of Rome's most hated Caesar's told,  
Or those Sicilian tyrants famed of old.  
No Christian, Pagan, or Mahometan  
Can be compared with this Castilian.  
Not Spain's great forces only are thy foes,  
Not Henry; but the murdered ghosts of those,  
Who now for vengeance 'gainst Don Pedro cry,  
Will plead to heaven against thy victory.  
There is no human heart that can forbear  
To melt, when they his cruel story hear.  
I tremble to recite it; in his reign  
How forty Lords of greatest mark in Spain  
He butchered cruelly without a cause:  
How, scorning both divine and humane laws,  
Being admitted into Toro Town,  
Upon condition he should murder none,  
He broke his faith, and in his mother's fight  
(As blood and torture were his chief delight)  
Commanded four the greatest Lords to dye▪  
The Queen, abhorring her son's cruelty,  
Forsook his Court, and to her father went.  
How four and twenty Burghers innocent  
Within Toledo, 'fore the tyrant's face  
Were executed in the Market place:  
Or with how many studied tortures there  
He racked a jew that was his Treasurer,  
With all his friends and kindred, to confess  
Their Treasury, and flew them ne'er the less.  
Nor safe could his own blood and kindred be  
Of either sex, from that dire cruelty.  
He killed three brothers of his own: his wife,  
Queen Blanch, he poisoned; and bereaved of life  
In cruel wise his Aunt Queen Leonore,  
Commanding then two noble Ladies more,  
That were his kindred both, and did remain  
As prisoners in his keeping, to be slain.  
But would you see, besides his bloody vice,  
Perfidiousness, and sordid Avarice?  
A King of Moors exiled from his land,  
Old Aben Alamar, at Pedro's hand  
To find some succour came; just so as he  
Now comes, my Edward, suppliant to thee▪  
But he that never knew what pity was,  
In stead of that, when he perceived (alas)  
Th'old King was rich in jewels, caused for gain  
Himself and all his servants to be slain.  
And as to blood, to all impiety  
Is this Don Pedro given; nor is he free  
From lust; besides Padilla, who had been  
His strumpet long, and for whose sake the Queen  
At last was murdered; when he could not get  
To satisfy a sudden lustful heat,  
Fair Donna jane of Castro to his bed,  
A false divorce he caused to be read  
Betwixt Queen Blanch and him: and so to jane  
Was married, whom he soon forsook again.  
For all his devilish acts, at last (though late)  
The holy Church did excommunicate  
This impious Prince. Wilt thou, dear Edward, be  
A friend to whom the Church is enemy?  
Oh pardon me, if now I fear thy Fate,  
Though still in war victorious yet. With that  
Down her fair cheeks the tears distilled apace.  
The noble Edward with a kind embrace  
Cheers his bright Princess; and in words declares  
How just a cause excites him to the wars,  
Besides the honour he from thence may gain;  
That Pedro is the trueborn Lord of Spain,  
And crowned Monarch; that no vice (whatever)  
Can wash away that sacred Character.  
That Subjects may not put their Sovereign down,  
Nor give Don Henry title to their Crown:  
But aught to leave that power to God alone,  
Who can revenge at full what he has done▪  
Or else so cleanse him from the greatest crimes▪  
That Pedro's penitence in aftertimes  
May all his former impious reign redeem  
(Like King Manasses in jerusalem)  
That it concerned a trueborn Prince his right  
To take that part; lest other Nations might  
Hereafter from a precedent so bad  
Usurp more freedom than they justly had.  
Then taking leave of his dear wife, he went  
To that, which after proved by accident  
A fatal war to England. Where, though he  
Obtained a great and glorious victory,  
And present honour through all Europe gate:  
Yet most unhappy to his future state  
The voyage was; his treasures waste which cost  
Sad tumults, and his French Dominions lost;  
Besides his loss of health. All which was sent  
Perchance to Edward as a punishment  
For aiding such a monster, though true heir.  
Nor long held Pedro his recovered chair.  
(Soon after th'English went from thence again,  
Deposed, and by victorious Henry slain.)  
Thus all their punishments did undergo,  
Castille, Don Pedro, and Prince Edward too:  
The Tyrant Pedro for his impious reign:  
Edward for lifting up the fiend again:  
And all Castille by England's conquering sword  
Scourged for deposing of their lawful Lord.   

With noble Edward to this Spanish war  
Young john of Gaunt the Duke of Lancaster,  
His brother marches; to whose future state  
Castille shall prove a name more fortunate;  
Who by the marriage of Don Pedro's heir  
The Royal title of that land shall wear  
With large revenues thence. The Duke commands  
One of the three Battalia's; with him stands  
Brave Sir john Chandois, who in war before  
Had ever been Prince Edward's Counsellor,  
Now set to guide the youth of Princely john.  
With him young Beauchamp, noble Warwick's son,  
And stout Lord Dalbert with a gallant train  
Of Gentlemen, and Knights of Aquitaine.  
The Prince of Wales himself commands the main  
And middle Battle. Pedro King of Spain  
For whom the war is made, by Edward's side  
There marches on; and English Chieftains tried  
In many a Battle, then esteemed to be  
The very flowers of Europe's Chivalry.  
With many Lords of high account and name,  
That from Poictou, from Maine, and Guyenne came.  
A Monarch leads the third Battalia on,  
james of Mallorques, King; that in renown  
Like th'ancient Caesar's might black Edward stand,  
And Kings not scorn to serve in his command.  
There th'earl of Arminacke leads on his power,  
And English Knolls, that expert warrior;  
Thither the Lords of Dalbreth, Piergort,  
And many noble Knights and Squires resort.  
With all his army thirty thousand strong  
The Prince sets forth from France, to pass along  
The famous straits of Roncevall, and through  
The kingdom of Navarre gets leave to go;  
By which, with faithful guides, they pass as far  
Before they meet th'approach of any war  
As fair Victoria on the bounds of Spain.  
There some forerunners of King Henry's train  
Descried, gave notice that the blow was near.  
But thrice as many as Prince Edward's, were  
The troops that Henry of Castille had brought.  
Besides the natives of the Land, that fought  
To guard their new-elected King, and free  
Themselves from Pedro's future tyranny,  
Th'expertest soldiers of the Realm of France  
Come to increase King Henry's puissance:  
And Saracens, from our invasions free,  
Bear here a part in Christian enmity,  
And 'gainst Don Pedro guard his brother's throne.  
In three great bodies comes that army on.  
The first and noblest, where the Frenchmen stand,  
Is under Bertram of Cle●quy's command:  
The greatest body in the midst, the King  
Himself draws up: the last his brothers bring;  
And now beside the town of Naveret  
In fair array are both the battels set.   

Renowned Edward to his men declares  
Th'undoubted justice of their present wars;  
And that no odds of numbers he can fear  
When he beholds those men, those Leaders there.  
Who, but 'gainst odds, did never battle try:  
Yet never fought without a victory.  
As those that Sluices naval fight had seen:  
That had in Crescy field, and Poitiers been;  
And bids them now maintain that old renown  
They in so many honoured fields had won.  
As much does Bertram his French troops excite;  
And briefly tells them they not only fight  
King Henry's Crown and honour to maintain,  
And win fame there: but to redeem again  
That dearest honour 'gainst the English host  
Which France of late had to that Nation lost.  
But when King Henry, whose great cause was tried  
In that day's hazard, saw the English side  
Were marching on against him in array,  
And that the war admitted no delay:  
He thus bespeaks his soldiers: If a cause  
Of such great weight, as to this battle draws  
Your farre-engaged hands, could need at all  
Th' inciting language of a General:  
The wrongs of Spain, and brutish cruelty  
Our foe has used, afford a scope to me  
Too large, too sad to play the Orator.  
But, well I know, your Country's love has power  
Enough to raise your highest courages,  
And bring you forward, were our army less  
Than theirs in number (as the odds is ours.)  
Unless this battle make us Conquerors,  
There can no people be so low as we;  
No land so wretched as Castille will be.  
'tis not our wealth alone, or laws we lose;  
Nor to be quite o'errun by foreign foes:  
(Though every Nation have esteemed those  
The worst) but Spain must suffer greater woes.  
'Gainst her so fierce no foreign sword can be  
As her restored tyrant's cruelty:  
His, who was once deposed, when to a mind  
Before so bloody, stern revenge is joined.  
If Spain before could not endure his yoke;  
How will she bear it now? if by wars struck  
Our conquering hands make not the action good:  
Better the tyrant undisturbed had stood:  
What made old Marius, when returned home,  
With so much slaughter fill the streets of Rome,  
Marius, whose hand was once her best defence,  
But that himself had been exiled from thence?  
The prisons stinch, the shackles that he bore,  
The bread he begged on wasted Africa's shore,  
Which he himself before had overcome,  
Made his return so sad to wretched Rome.  
And can we here fear less than Marius brought  
On Rome? or than the Butcher Sylla wrought,  
When not in wars, but executions  
So many thousands were destroyed at once,  
If in this battle Pedro should o'ercome?  
(But God avert from Spain so sad a doom.)  
What sights would all her mourning Cities see  
But racks, and gibbets, blood, and cruelty?  
The land no place in such a peace could yield  
More safe from slaughter than this fight field;  
And tortured wretches that were left in Spain,  
Would call us happy, who in war were slain.  
But such a plague to earth I cannot fear  
When I behold your manly faces here  
Brave friends and soldiers. To your valours now  
Let our dear land a greater safety owe  
Than e'er she did to one successful fight.  
Nor let the fame of English Edward fright  
Your thoughts at all. Fortune has done for him  
Enough already; and it well may seem  
Since blinded he maintains so cursed a cause,  
That she her favour from that Prince withdraws.  
The King had done; when all the Spanish troops  
Inflamed with love of fight, and filled with hopes,  
A strong desire to hear the signal show.  
All wish to dye, should, what they fear, be true.   

From every part confused shouts are sent;  
And both the hosts with passions different  
Together join; th'auxiliary troops  
Of France are filled with revengeful hopes  
To make the English in that bloody day  
For all their conquests, and proud trophies pay.  
The English bold by former battles won,  
And to maintain their fame, come fiercely on.  
As strong resolves the eager Spaniards bring,  
Here to establish their new-crowned King:  
And by one prosperous fight for ever free  
Their wretched land from Pedro's tyranny.  
Great is the fury; high the cause is tried:  
Deep the engagements lie on either side;  
Both armies mighty; in their numbers one:  
In prowess t'other; nor had Spain e'er known  
(Although of mighty wars so oft the stage,  
Though there th'old Punic and the Roman rage  
So long were seen, while fortune doubted yet  
Which land to make the world's Imperial seat)  
Two nobler Hosts than in that trial fought.  
And yet this storm so black, so tragic, brought  
This one sad comfort, that it could not last;  
But all the war, when this great field was passed;  
The wretched people hoped would quite expire.  
Spain could not bleed so long, nor feed the fire  
So oft with fuel, to protract her fate  
As rich (but hapless) France had done of late.   

Against the foremost English battle there,  
Which john of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster  
Brought up, does Bertram of Clesquy advance  
With all th'auxiliary troops of France.  
There hot and furious the encounter grows.  
No where does Death more freely deal his blows:  
No part of all the field more stained with blood.  
As there the war began, it longest stood,  
And various Fortune longest doubted where  
To give her favours. Youthful Lancaster  
Came bravely on in that days fight to win  
His maiden fame; and Bertram, that had been  
Not many years before in Britain's war  
By famous Chandois taken prisoner,  
The Banner of his ancient foe had seen▪  
'Gainst which he pressed with eager hopes, to win  
From him the honour he had lost again,  
While slaughtered bodies strew the purple plain.   

With Fate far different did Don Tello draw  
Against Prince Edward's main Battalia  
His forces up, though strong that body were,  
And well disposed for charging did appear,  
With Spears in front so strongly fortified,  
Yet there (alas) King Henry's hapless side  
Began first to fail; nor could Don Tello long  
Endure the fierce encounter of so strong  
And expert soldiers as the Prince had brought;  
Who in so many prosperous fields had fought,  
And in all feats of war so well were tried.  
Their fatal task the strong-nerved Archers plied  
So fast, that soon the rank of Spears was broke,  
And routed so, that they the field forsook;  
The rest left naked, when the Spears were gone,  
Are by the Gascoigne Horsemen trampled on.   

And now the wars whole fury began to draw  
Upon King Henry's great Battalia;  
And was from thence with equal fury met.  
So much the Spaniards on that day had set  
Their Country's future fortunes and their own.  
In that Battalia from their slings were thrown  
Such mortal stones, as seemed awhile to be  
Equivalent to th'English Archery;  
But could not prove at last so strong an aid.  
There stuck the war, there Edward's fortune stayed.  
There various feats of hardy arms were wrought;  
So many thousand hands to fight were brought.  
Nor did the Common soldiers only there  
The toils of war, and brunt of dangers bear:  
But highest Chieftains played the soldier's parts,  
And through the battle with courageous hearts  
Their passage made; there stern Don Pedro fought,  
And to the ground that day had many brought.  
Pleased now he seemed he might with honour do  
What by his nature he was prompted to  
(Shed human blood▪) Most eager was his spite,  
His visage black. He that had seen him fight  
And kill so fast, would have supposed that from  
Th'infernal caves the Prince of night had come  
To work on earth the ruin of mankind.  
But not content with vulgar deaths, his mind  
(Had Fortune suffered) chiefly aimed to meet  
His brother Henry there. No blood so sweet  
As his, could be to Pedro's cruel thought.  
So, when of old the Argive Princes fought  
'Gainst fatal Thebes in Polynices right,  
The banished Prince could with no other fight  
Nor Tragedy be pleased; but through the press  
Still sought his brother, proud Eteocles;  
Until at last, in spite of Piety,  
They meet in field; and Fate so cruelly  
Balanced their impious strengths, that both were slain,  
Yet both did guilty Conquerors remain.  
Nor did King Henry in his thoughts decline  
The sad encounter. Had the Power Divine  
But let them meet, the like (perchance) had been;  
And Spain as much as fatal Thebes had seen.  
There through the midst the terror of his foes,  
Like Mars himself, renowned Edward goes.  
White Victory still o'er his standard slew,  
As if no other name but his she knew;  
And he in war did guide the wheel of Fate.  
The glittering swords, that shone so bright of late,  
Are quickly all distained with purple gore;  
And all the field with slaughter covered o'er.  
Mischief and fury reigned: Deaths groaning sound  
The Trumpets noise, and shouts of soldiers drowned.  
But long the heartless Spanish troops, however  
Great were their numbers, and their quarrel dear,  
Could not the prowess of the English bide.  
Which when (alas) unhappy Henry spied,  
And that their ranks they began forsake apace,  
With restless industry from place to place  
He rides, to breath into his fainting men  
Fresh vigour, and restore the fight again.  
He cries aloud, oh friends, oh soldiers, why  
Do you forsake so near a victory?  
One stroke will finish what is done almost.  
There is no safety when this field is lost.  
For swords why seek you gibbets, and above  
A noble death an ignominious love?  
With such sad speeches did the eager King  
Renew the fury of the fight, and bring  
His fainting soldiers on: that bloody grew  
The day again, till th' English spirits anew  
Collected, charged their rallied foes so sore,  
That soon the Spaniards routed, as before,  
Into disordered flight began to fall;  
Although no office of a General  
Did Henry leave undone. Thrice did he stay  
His vanquished men from flight, and thrice that day  
Restore the desperate field; but all in vain:  
Nor did the Fates in justice then ordain  
That he should be the Conqueror; one fight  
Must needs be lost to prove Don Pedro's right,  
And raise Prince Edward's fame. Then must he gain  
That Crown, when England has abandoned Spain.  
And now the day beyond all hope is lost  
On Henry's side; and that great numerous host  
Fly in amazement, and themselves expose  
Without resistance to the conquering foes;  
While many thousands, as they thronging fly  
From English weapons, in the river dye  
That flows by Naveret; whose stream affords  
As many deaths almost as Edward's swords.  
Sad Henry, though his heart disdains to fly,  
Yet since reserved for Royal dignity  
By kinder Fates hereafter, yields to flight,  
And though sore wounded in the fatal fight,  
Upon his jennet mounted leaves the field.  
By this the French Battalia's, that bade held  
The longest out, and first encountered, where  
Stout Bertram fought 'gainst john of Lancaster,  
Are quite consumed, and weltering in their blood,  
Cover the place where late they fight stood,  
Their Chiefs enforced to yield, and Bertram there  
Again by th' English taken prisoner.  
Stern Mars his task had to the utmost done;  
Nor e'er had Spain beheld a Garland won  
With more renown, or conquest more complete  
Than in this famous field of Naveret  
Black Edward purchased; nor could aught allay  
The lasting fame of that victorious day,  
Save that the Prince his noble valour lost  
On such a cause: that so much blood it cost  
To raise a wicked Tyrant, and again  
Advance Don Pedro to the Throne of Spain.   

Annotations upon the seventh Book.  
ᵃ Prince Edward, by the common consent of all, brought into Spain an Army consisting of thirty thousand English, Gascoignes, and other strangers, being for the number of themesteemed as expert soldiers as any in the world. The cast companies of English, which had served in so many famous exploits under himself and King Edward his father, upon this occasion came in to serve him. King Henry of Castille had a great Army, for besides the French, which served him under the conduct of Bertram of Clesquy, and were in number about four thousaad men at Arms, besides many other loose troops; he had of Spaeniards, Saracens, and others, above fourscore thousand. When it came to Battle, Prince Edward obtained a complete victory: the slanghter, considering so great a victory, was not much; for the Spaniards were too soon routed, and did not in their own dear quarrel behave themselves so stoutly as their French auxiliaries did. But there were slain of them, besides five hundred Gentlemen of quality, above seven thousand of the common soldiers. Of the English side were slain (of men of quality) but four Knights, two Gascoignes, one Almain, and the fourth an English-max; and of common soldiers about sixteen hundred, as some write; though Froissard saith, not above forty: but the other number is more credible, considering how fiercely the battle was fought, as all agree. There were taken Prisoners to the number of two thousand, and among them the Earl of Dene, Sir Bertram of Clesquy, the Marshal Dandrehen, and many other men of name.  
ᵇ After this great victory Prince Edward at Burges seated the tyrant Pedro in his Throne again; and for so great a merit the promised recompenee is required by the Prince, which Don Pedro could not, or cared not to provide, but starving him with delays, enforced him in the end to return to Bordeaux, without money to pay his Army, and which was worse, without health; which he never after recovered. Some Hystorians report that he was poisoned in Spain: others say it was a Dropsy, of which the Prince never could be after cured. Such was the success of this unfortunate action undertaken to right an ungrateful Tyrant, who afterward notwithstanding was again dispossessed, taken and put to death by his brother Henry. But the affairs of England did wonderfully suffer from that time. The Prince to pay his soldiers (who were not able to stay Don Pedro's leisure) coined his Plate, and when all would not serve, he fell upon a worse misfortune (to cure a present want, with a greater and more durable loss) seeking to lay upon his subjects in Gascoigne a new taxation, which bred a most dangerous revolt, namely the imposition of Fevage, or Chimney money, which so discontented the people, that they exclaim against the government of the English, and appeal to the King and Court of France for redress. The King of Fran●e at the instance of diverse great Lords, (although by the Articles of accord at Brettigny he were bound to quit all homage for the duchy of Aquitaine, which he might claim of the English) entertains their complaint, and sends to the Prince of Wales at ●urdeaux, summoning him to answer before him and his Court at Paris concerning these matters. The Lords of Arminiague, D'Albret, Peregot, comings, and many others made their protestations against the King of England, for the Crown of France, alleging that they were by nature to obey that, and not a strange Sovereign: that it was absolutely against the fundamental law of the kingdom to dissever them from the Crown: that the Contract was made in prison, and therefore by the right of Nations not to oblige: therefore they utterly disclaimed the government of England. By their example the Cities of the County of Ponthieu, which was King Edward his undoubted inheritance, revolted all to the French King. King Edward complained of this breach of Accord to the Pope and other Christian Princes, but treaties availed little the English side, when the French hearts were weary of their yoke, and resolved to return to their old obedience. From this time, being the 42 year of King Edward's reign, the tide of Fortune was turned from the English to the French side; Edward the Renowned Prince of Wales was sick of a lingering malady, and not able to endure the travel of War; and old King Edward was misled in England by evil servants, which caused disquiet in Parliaments, and many distempers in the State at home. All these occasions were politicly looked into by Charles (surnamed the Wise) King of France, who though, forewarned by his father and Grandfathers misfortunes, he never would venture any pitched battles against the English (for there were diverse Armies sent over from hence after that time, but returned fruitless, as the Chronicles will inform you) yet he omitted no opportunities of recovering his kingdom by secret solicitations, large promises, and other wary practices; by which as also some fortunate skirmishes of Bertram his best servant he recovered all before the death of King Edward, except the Town of Calleis only. Those eminent victories and great actions, by which the English had gained so much of France, have been the subject of this Historical Poem: the particular revolts, fly practices, and petty actions, by which insensibly it was lost again, you may read distinctly in the Chronicles at large.    
FINIS.