THE BATTLES OF CRESCEY, and Poitiers under the leading of King Edward the Third of that name; And his Son Edward Prince of Wales, named the Black. By Charles Allen, sometime of Sidney College in Cambridge. Magnarum rerum etiamsi successus Non fuerit, Honestus ipse conatus est, Seneca. LONDON, Printed by Tho: Purfoot for T. K. 1631. DOCTISSIMO AMICO SVO CAROLO ALEINO de nobili hoc Poemate. SI quid victrices debebunt vatibus umbrae, Aevum mortali si dare musa potest, Et decus aeternum praestare, hos doctus honores Praestitit Alleinus, Rex, Edovarde, tibi, Gallorum domitor, tibique invictissime Princeps, Cujus adhuc nomen saecula nostra colunt. Felices animae, laudes agnoscite vestras, Carminaque eximios dignae sonare duces. Maesta suas iterum lugebit Gallia clades, Damnaque per calamum iam renovata tuum Sentiet infelix, lugubria praelia damnans, Temporaque Anglorum cum pharetrata cohrrs Rumperet hostiles horrenda strage catervas, Gallaque Gallorum luxuriaret humus Sanguine pinguescens, quae ne damnare tenebris Saecula, vel possit perdere livor edax; Hos patriae reddit meritos Alleinus honores, Nec patitur regum fortia facta mori. Thomas May. To his Friend Mr. Charles Allen upon his learned Poem. THe noblest spur unto the sons of fame Is thirst of honour, and to have their name Enrolled in faithful History: thus worth Was by a wise ambition first brought forth. Blessed Edward whom posterity shall know By this unspotted work, to which we owe Our knowledge of thy Choicest deeds: so just Has been my friend unto thy reverend dust. Truth is the historians Crown, and art Squares it to stricter comeliness: each part Thou skilfully observest, whose learned slight Shall teach succeeding ages how to write. Go on t'improoue the world, and scorn the harm That malice can find out, deserts a charm. Be fortunate as knowing, may thy brain jove-like bring forth valour and wit, disdain Those torturers of wit that stuff these times With rude Composures and unseasoned rhymes. It will be weakness to enlarge thy praise, Thy own judicious Poem is thy bays. john Hall. To my Friend Mr. Charles Allen. CHarles, by the muse Edward the Black seems fair, The daring Son of an undaunted Sire. Live not my hopes, if I can judge more rare Their Acts, or thy expression. To require An equal censure, this with truth accords, They give thee matter, thou afford'st them words. John Lewis. TO THE RIGHT Worshipful, and accomplished Sir John Spencer of Ofley Knight and Baronet. Sir, I Have read (said Cosmus a Duke of Florence) that we should forgive our Enemies, but no where that we should forgive our Friends: It seems by this Duke's doctrine, that the transgression of an engaged observer is no venial sin. Indeed the discontinuance of my service cries so loud, that had I not much faith in your goodness, I should not hope an atonement; But your noble nature hath bespoke my confidence. The figure of that devotion long since set in my breast I here delineate in this Dedication, begging the noble charity of your construction, that you would rather conceive well of the pattern, than too nearly examine the portraiture. A diffidence whereof were an unpardonable trespass to your generous self, to whom my study shall make good, what your merits expect from the faith of his observance, in whose Logic to be and to be yours is convertible. Charles Allen. TO THE NOBLE and virtuous Lady, the Lady Spencer of Ofley. Madam, IT may seem a solecism to match a Lady and a battle: for Trumpets and Fifes are harsh accents in a Lady's ear; and a Battle though but in arras is terrible: But this makes the constuction good. I see your virtue (most Honoured Lady) stand higher than your Sex, and in that I know that the achievements of active spirits are more welcome to a masculine virtue than a soft discourse. Besides there hath ever been a sympathy betwixt Ladies and Martialists, and the Doves of Venus make their nests sometime in a Soldiers helmet: Nay (to pass true stories) the books of Knight errantrie were but shrunken things, if we took out of them adventures done for Ladies. I hope the reconcilementis made, if not, your Ladyship is merciful; and though you detect an error in my judgement, you shall find an infallibility in his devotion, who here lays his hand upon your Altar for protection. Charles Allen. THE BATTLE OF CRESCEY. 'tIs true, my hand black Edward can't enrol In honours brazen leaves, nor draw a line In his famed table, unless Homer's soul Were made by wondrous transmigration mine. I cared not, though Pythagoras did miss In all Philosophy, if true in this. Yet may I draw somenobler Genius forth, Whose high-born strains are privileged from time, Who in the handling of a theme of worth, Can drown fame's trumpet with a mighty rhyme, And soaring notes imped with a muse's wing, High as the Bards that Agincourt did sing. Let Tourney quake, great Edward's at her gate, And like a meteor menaceth her walls, Tourney may glory in her better fate If by the hand of Edward, Tourney falls: For 'tis a comfort by great hands to die, And thus to fall is next to victory. But now the enemy is on his way (Navarre, the French, and the Bohemian King,) To take the hungry Lion from his prey: Three Kings but named might some terror bring. But titles never were by judgement feared, Had all the host been Kings he had not cared. And that the French might know his perso'nall worth, He dared De Valois to a single fight; And if not that, to draw a hundred forth, That fewer slaughters might decide the right. A good King knows (cause all depend on him) To lose a subject is to lose a limb. I will not question, if a leader should Be personally seen in such an action, It is enough for me that Edward would, His precedent is real satisfaction. A King's a God on earth, and this i'll call Edward's divinity; one die for all. But such defiances are vain to those, Who more their numbers than their valour trust, Now army army, all shall all oppose, The French will have it so the English must. Edward appoints a day: 'tis bravely done To tell thy foman when thou wilt come on. 'twas genuine valour in our grandsires, who Proclaimed when, and what they meant to do, And scorned like thieves to steal upon a foe, A foe unwarned is unarmed too. By skulking out to beat an enemy, Doth pilfer honour, and steal victory. The cloud of war was ready to dissolve To showers of blood: the air affrighted feared The blows it should receive, now all resolve To go, or send to death: but all is cleared. What was presaged black proves a fair day, A Lady's breath dispelld the storm away. Sister to Philip, mother to Edward's wife, The Lady jane De Valois interceedes, A cloistered Nun sets period to the strife, Or else whole troops had died, and now none bleeds. Troops of that force, that had they joined in one, Had thrown a paleness on the Turkish moon. Coriolanus armed with fury dared Bid a defiance to ungrateful Rome, And would have humbled her proud hills, nor feared Had the grim Father of Rome's founder come. His mother's loving prayers make him yield, Her arms, not Rome's, must make him quit the field Edward for England hasts puts out of pay His foreign aids; he finds his treasuries Starved by his Offi'cers, since be went away: The Dutch shall not share in his victories, The English only shall partake in glory, None else be quoted in their honoured story. Nor is it wisdom, where no treasures are, To hope for succours from a strange supply: money's the nerve and ligament of War, It makes them fight, and keeps from mutiny. Leaders are souls, Armies the bodies, coin, The vital spirits that do both combine. Now Mars is chained in his iron cave, And stern Enyo hath set up her lance, They in more strict restreints more wildly rave, And are made sharper by their abstinence. Let fury take her course, she will prove mild, To stay her gallop will make fury wild. But soon they quit their prison and rejoice To try in Britain wars uncertain chance, Edward for Mountford stands, Philip for Blois Who both plead right in that inheritance. Weapons are drawn on both sides to cut out Their rights, but are put up before they fought. And now two Cardinals, (a Nun before) Strike a fair truce, and are the shields of France, As Fabius of Rome their words fence more Than arms; but when the English next advance, And march to Cressey, than the French shall know, Their Church both not a guard for such a blow. But hungry Mars once more to prison must, And fast from blood, nor dare once dream of fight, Their tools of death for want of use shall rust, Whilst plowmen stewed in sweat make theirs look bright, Under a chequered shadow Tytrus singes, Whilst peace fans choler with her silver wings. Yet though their helmets gather rust, and are The shops, where spiders wove their bowels forth, Yet let not those brave heads, that did them wear, In rusty idleness entomb their worth. The spirits are extinct, and valour dies, Without their sovereign diet▪ exercise. Which moved our second Arthur to erect A table, lest their Magnanimity Should languish in dull coldness, and neglect Of practising their arms, and chivalry; For exercise, and emulation are The parents, that beget children for war. Famed Arthur worthy of best pens, but that Truth is so far before 'tis out of sight; Thy acts are made discourse for those that chat Of Hamptons' cutthroat or the redrose Knight. Yet there is truth enough in thy fair story Without false legends to enshrine thy glory. Some monkish pen hath given thy fame more blows Then all the Saxons could thy body lend; The hand a sacrifice to Vulcan owes, That killed the truth by forgeries it penned. When truth and falsehood interlaced lie, All are thought falsehoods by posterity. Yet in the reign of this first son of Mars, All is not sternly rugged, some delights Sweet amorous sports to sweeten tarter-wars, And then a dance began the garter Knights. They swell with love, that are with valour filled, And Venus' doves may in a head piece build. As Sarum beauteous Countess in a dance Her loosened garter unawares let fall, Renowned Edward took it up by chance, Which gave that order first original. Thus saying to the wondering standers by. There shall be honour to this silkenty. Some the beginning from first Richard bring, (Counting too meanly of this pedigree) When he at Acon tied a leather string About his Soldiers legs, whose memory Might stir their valour up, yet choose you whether You'll Edward's silk prefer, or Richard's leather. But they take not a scruple of delight, More than's by nature given torellish pain: At once; your welcome pleasure and good night, Before 'tis settled, 'tis expelled again. As dogs of Nilus' drink, a snatch, and gone, Sweets must be tasted, and not glutted on. By this time France is rank, her veins are full, And ripe to be let blood, deaths instruments Are keen edged, which before were dull, And fit to execute the minds intents. The furies roused from their loathed shelves, For former fastings now may glut themselves. The sword, the shield, the battle axe, the spear Are taken from the well-stored armoury, And that which justly shall beget most fear, The well experienced English archery, Who knew to conquer: Parthiae can't show Such high-raisd trophies, as our English bow. Tall ships are rigged▪ and with provision stored, Stay but a while, till a fair wind shall rise, Young jason had not such with him a board, When bound to Colchos for the golden prize. The very ships when they were launching forth, Did seem to dance to have in them such worth. The sails, as if with child, grew big with wind, And long to have flown o'er the briny ford: The rising waves for fear themselves declind, Supposing they were Neptune's were a board. Or else for fear Neptune kept down the main, Lest seeing them it would have changed the reign. The vessels are unlading of their freight, Richer than ever crossed the seas before, The earth with longing did appear to wait, As proud to have their footsteps on the shore: But the displeased sea grown angry, now, Vexed for this loss, fretted her wrincked brow. But if wise nature had informed the earth, That all her vert should into gules be turned: Or of that blood she should teem such a birth As she had of the Giants, she had mourned. Or else sunk down under the briny flood, Then had they fought in a red sea of blood. Some thirty thousand foot, great Edward led, With these were joined twenty five hundred horse, The French the fields with five such numbers spread: Yet heated by their wrongs he beards their force. Not Clement's mediation can assuage, The just incensed flame of Edward's rage. Their hosts before twice did their weapons shake, Twice did their hosts return without a stroke, They truce at Tourney, and at Malstroict make A truce twice made the French as often broke. Th' unmanlie for fee of fidelity Is worst eclipse in sphere of Majesty. Evils are linked together, now he spills Baccoes, and Cliffons blood in Normandy: Nor can one place confine his rage, he kills Edward's approved friend in Picardy. Our friends are parts make us entirely one, What's left of us is lame, when they are gone. But that which most aggrieved Edward struck, And to his honour seemed the greatest stain, Philip too hautily the homage took, Which Edward did to him for Aquitaine. When you depress great spirits, that aspire, You throw down balls to make them rise the higher It is a trespass against martial right, To take up wrongs on trust, and not repay: When beareing old ones new ones do invite, There Clement cannot Edward's fervour stay. Since he is justly fired, less shall be done Now by a Pope, than had been by a Nun. March on: and now at Carentine they are, Great Cliffons hands are nailed upon her gates. This act shall make her feel th' extreme of war And wronged Cliffons hands shall spin her fates. Like a Petar they make her gates to fly, And open a passage to her misery. But Carentine can now no longer hold, (For guilt is fearful,) and the English are, Like herds of wolves amidst a fleecy fold; Wronged favours turned to fury will none save. For drams of Cliffons blood, whole pounds are shed And hundreds are atonement for his head. The walls that would have guarded them shall burn, And cause they shared in guilt, be razed down: Edward the buildings doth to atoms turn, As if he would annihilate the town. For that his corpses they of its rites beguile, The town in flames is Cliffons funeral pile. They take in Caen in Normandy, and advance Forward (for no controlment yet bids stay:) Almost to Paris, and the heart of France, Whilst sword and fire do usher them their way. Though fire was given but for the heat, & light, Yet man can teach this element to fight. And now 'tis time to bid the English stand, Which is not done by bearding them in fight: They tumble down the bridges, and command, Th' impetuous streams to counter check their might Edward must combat, if he will pass o'er, Now against water, as with fire before. But whilst the English are in search to find Where it is fordable, and how they might Gain to the other side, the French divind By weak conjectures that this stay was flight▪ Thus do we build assurance on a wave, And easily believe what we would have. Weak man, (the welstord shop of vanities, Dream of a shade, and shadow of a dream) Erects presumptions on uncertainties And is in fears, or hopes fond extreme. Thoughts airy castles in a breath do fall, And hopes which highest fly flag first of all. But long the stream cannot there journey bound, Not with his winding arms the passage keep▪ On Blanch Laque upon some the English found, A ford, which nature had not made so deep. For nature durst not be rebellious To stay, whom heaven would have victorious. Edward was first that entrd on the ford, (Like to great Philip's greater son, when he Fought against Porus) with this moving word, He that doth love me let him follow me. It was a word so forcive, that it might Make valour wonders do, and baseness fight, Philip six thousand foot, a thousand horse Sends to the ford, whom Godmar lead along, To lay a rub before the English course: But opposition maketh strength more strong. For virtue gathers heat by having foes, Valour is dulled, and numbed, when none oppose, As when the sea hath artificial bounds, And dams have laid command upon the waves, Not rebellike to overrun the grounds; More madded with these stops, it wildlie raves. And valours of that one eyed Captains mind, 'Twill make a passage if it cannot find. Fury is not by full resistance tamed, Voiding must ward it: he is mad will stay A bear, or bull broke lose: fury inflamed Is violent on all that's in its way. What stands before, is offered to the eye, In the true nature of an enemy. And now S. George: The French are mowed down, Like men ripe for the sword, the English won The quitted bank; Godmar is overthrown, And when no hands to fight, hath feet to run, And lest their army should too great be thought, Leads back too thousand fewer than he brought The passage is their own: for Crescey now, Which in his mother's right was Edward's own, Crescey is famed for that overthrow, Where horror in his deepest die was shown. To be in view of that which is ones right. Would make a heart for less than Edward's fight. In three Battalias the King drew out His men, by valiant commanders lead, Wales her young lion in the vanguard fought, Which like a hearse in form was ordered. It were enough to make a coward fly, To see this emblem of mortality. With him was Hare court, Warwick, and La ware, Beaucham, and Bourchier, worthies who knew well The use of hand, and head: the next troops are Led by Northampton, Rosse, and Arundel. chiefs, who like souls, could the dull spirits stir In the i'll hart of coldest follower. The third Battalia King Edward lead, His soldiers might under his conduct be Proud and secure: so Mars stood in the head Of his robustious Thracian company. The three Battalias seemed, as they did stand, The three forked thunder in jove's flaming hand. The English army is closed up behind, And barricadod that they cannot fly: Their horses took away put them in mind That they were there to conquer, or to dye. 'Tis policy to bar the means of flight, Necessity will make a coward fight. Courageous Edward spurs their valour on, And cheers his sprightful soldiers; where he came, His breath did kindle valour, where was none; And where it found a spark, it made a flame. Armies of fearful hearts will scorn to yield, If lions be their Captains in the field. Through all the army this tenthworthy rid, With a white rod in his victorious hand, As if to chastise fortune, if she did But dare his uncontrolled designs withstand. ‛ Though fools, and cowards at the name do quake The wise, and valiant their fortune make. The King (as strength joined with wisdom should) Set targets in the front, to save his men From Genoan Crossbows; so wise Rome of old Gave crowns to them that saved a citizen. Offensive rashness she did not commend, 'Tis the first act of valour to defend. Which made the old King of Bohemia say, The English marshalling speaks this intent: Either to lose their lives, or win the day, To get a trophy, or a monument. A soldier hath two aims, to win or dye, A Coward two, quickly to win, or fly. Now Savois Earl to make the conquest full, Brings in a thousand to the enemy: To share in his hoped fortunes, and to pull A pinion from the wing of victory. But Amie here ●is debt to nature pays, And weareth Cypress for triumphant bays. Black was the day, the Chaos was thus black, Before 'twas said, Let there be light; the clouds Opened their watery treasures, which did crack They were so full: all is insable shrowds, The symptoms of true grief were in the sphere As if it meant to be chief mourner here. The Sun at first half scared with the sight, Behind the Moon with half his body lies: So soon as he was quitted of this fright, He shot his beams full on the Frenchmens eye. And against them let his rays like arrows fly, As if he sided with our archery. Then on a cloud an arch triumphal drew, And looked upon that watery looking-glass. That he himself might by reflection view, Whether his late Eclipse had changed his face. Or else it was to let the English know, How much they were indebted to the bow. The lightning cuts the air with flaming wing, Willing to aid the Sun in that dark day; And heavens great shot doth in the welkin ring, And with loud bellow usher's the fray. As if for those great Lords which here shall fall, Heaven owed a volley to the funeral. Shoales of ill-boding Ravens (as if the sky Had not been dark enough) a shadow made Dark as the clouds; that though the glorious eye Of heaven had shined, they had been in the shade. Fowls jointly met to feast upon the dead, The guests were tombs where men were buried. The pikes are ordered, ensigns are displayed, And menace brave extremity; the light Of glittering helms and waving streamers made A day seem clear, which before seemed night. Pale fear had amorous looks, and all the while Terror looked jovely, and death seemed to smile, The shafts headed with death, and winged with speed, Now to the arched engine they apply, Which as if hungry on man's flesh to feed, With greedy certainty appeared to fly. Their bows with such a certainty they drew, As Phoebus did when he the Python slew. We to the grey goose wing more conquests owe, Than to the Monk's invention; for than We culled out mighty arms to draw the bow, Striplings oft serve us now, then only men. For these hot engines equal mischief can, Discharged by a boy, or by a man. Bullets, because they undiscerned fly, Work less effects of fear: but dangers seen, If they cannot be fenced, more terrify; At startled sense reason hath startled been. Amazed to have so many shafts in sight, In hope to ward them, they forget to fight. A well-selected Archer can let fly Thrice for one shot of the best musketeere: And barbed arrows gall more eagerly, Where they once light, they second fresh-wounds there, And mad the Horse, who will not forward stir, More sensible of them, than of the spur. Who madded, as they backard fly, do fall Fowl on their own, and do their service there: Whilst their own Horses their own quarters maul, They both themselves, and enemies must fear. Thus broke, with an unwilling courtesy, They open a passage to the enemy. The musketeers discharge but in one rank At once; but whole squadrons of Archers may: These wound at random, they but at point blank; And when both sides, are now engaged in fray, At push of Pike; behind the armed foot, Though muskets cannot, yet the Bows may shoot. At the famed Battle of Lepanto, when Valiant young Austria wwas admiral; The Turkish Archery did slay more men, Than by our Pieces of all sorts did fall. And the white faith of history can't show, That e'er the Musket yet could beat the Bow. The Genoan Bows, to make the French horse way In the first point are ranged: but the showers, auxiliary heaven distilled that day, Corrupt the Genoan strings, but hurt not ours. Small things work much, where victory is due, And only hurt your foe, though might hurt you. Now since their Bows unserviceable be, The King commanded alanson to rend, And beat them from the point: thus oft we see Actions condemned for some ill accident. Which may miscarry, when 'tis not the crime Of him, that did attempt them, but the time. Mean men are often in small faults impeached: Greatness above the clouds so high asshrind; It cannot by jove's greatest shot be reached, And laughs at the low volleys of the wind. Wolfe-bane amongst roses leaves its deadly scent, Faults amongst great men find no punishment. But th' English of their strings more care did take, (Whose winged pursivants deaths message bear.) Some (through love's seat the liver, passage make, As if our Archers had been Cupid's there. Some strike life's seat, the hart, so that you can Scarce tell, if death did shoot them, or a man. As when the colder Region of the air, Moulds Rain to hailshot, the relenting tree Of the plump God, lusty before, and fair, Loseth her rubies with heaven's battery. Thus fell the French: for shoot, though in the dark 'tis hard to miss, when the whole fieid's a mark. The Genoan tempest is dispelled: their force Divided wins no fear; a mighty flood Cut in small rills is weakened in his course, And parted strength is easily withstood. Divide, and then you conquer: for though none Can break a sheaf of darts, they may break one. Disorder's next to ruin, and destroys Th' essence of creatures: order did create, Then by the rule of contrarieties, 'tis a disorder doth annihilate. By this ill shaped enemy do fall, Both bodies politic, and natural. Continued, or collected bodies are Weakened by their disunion; but do Get strength by vn'ty; beams reflexed are far More hot, because they are united: so We see in bodies likened by a soul, The union of the parts conserves the whole. Divisions ruin Realms: the Monarchies Of Mars his Rome, and Macedon thus fall; Christendomes whip, that now doth tyrannize, Shall thus return to her original. Factions those commas are, that bring the state Of Kingdoms to their period, and fate. The hot Count Alencon with fiery horse Scours o'er the plains with an impetuousness, Which easily made it a short-winded course: As it was said of great Themistocles. His heat was quickly cooled, and did draw To a too sudden end, like fire in straw. The generous-mettald courser (as if we Had been too slow on foot) is taught to fight: We borrow speed to meet our enemy, And fly to our revenge: and to do right Unto the active French; old Thessaly Won not more Garlands than their Chivalry. Armies (if we Iphicrates will hear) Are of themselves dull bodies, nor can wield Their sullen weights, unless the horse be three, Which are ihe feet: indeed the horse at field. Are best in actions of celerity, In expeditions, and discovery. But horse against resolute foot can littlewin, The mounting is more firm, the aims more sure; For footmen have their moving from within, They from their horse: yet horse are more secure In flight, and have (as Xenophon did say) But the advantage, when they run away. The sprightly Count is quickly out of breath, Like to heaven's lightning as soon out as seen, A gallant flash before the night of death; Those edges soon turn, that are most keen. A sober moderation stands sure, No violent extremities endure. A storm of Enhlish Arrows breaks their course, And routs their troops: stout Alanson's engaged Within the lists of death; the furious horse (Impatient patients of their wounds) enraged Dismount their riders, vexed, that they did bear Men, that did spur them to those dangers there. But careful Philip his Battalia brings To disengage his cousin: and foresight And providence in Kings doth, make them Kings; Kingdoms are Chaoses without their light. And in Nile's mystic characters, the eye More than the sceptre noted majesty. Suffolk as wary, on his battle drew, To aid his Prince, and check the King of France: Whilst rusty horror through the armies flew, And dealt his dole of death: indifferent chance. Durst not yet choose her side on which to be, And no less wavering was victory. Reason itself did think it fit to leave them To their wild passions, and let fury guide: Now choler of their reason doth bereave them: If fury be at home, reason's denied. Madness and anger differ but in this, This is short madness, that long anger is. The swords forgot to glister any more, As loath to lend their light to that dark shade; They're double died in a deep grain of gore, you'd think they had so many Comets made. So many by their fatal seizures died, That Atropos might lay her knife a side. Here a hand severed, there an ear was cropped, Here a chap fall'n, and there an eye put out. Here was an arm lopped off, there a nose dropped: Here halt a man, and there a less piece fought. Like to dismembered statues they did stand, Which had been mangled by times iron hand. There one (as if unwilling should be spent, Cost to make Marble seem to live) doth mean To be himself a cheaper monument. Whilst slain, he still upon his sword doth lean. And for the service he did there that day, Himself stood there as his own statue. here one, all of whose self was as one wound, (Oftener transfixed than mighty Scaevas shield) Sometimes himself, sometimes he beats the ground, Or clings so fast as if he'd win the field. So many ways to death, yet doth not die, The soul uncertain which way it should fly. There two united gores do make one flood, Wherein the duellers do sail to death: Thus Elephants, and Dragons mix their blood, When both do vanquish, & both loose their breath Their angry bloods did in two channels run, But friendly now in death flow but in one. King Edward like a cloud hung on a hill, (As Africa's Captain said of Fabius) Marking those gamesters; ready to distil, When need should bid him be propitious. And whilst be wisely watched for their sakes, Not only viewed the sport, but kept the stakes. As an old Eagle parched on a tree (After the Sun hath ratified her brood By their vnwaur'ring eyes) is proud to see Her royal birds inbrue themselves in blood. So stood the King, whose heart within him glows To see his Eaglet fleshed upon his foes. But as jove's trees, that crown proud Ida's brow, Stoop at stiff Eol's oft repeated roar: And many drops can eat a Marble through; So numbers iterated bear valour over. What? can a faintness fall on such? it can, Edward may saint, though he be more then man. Nor the intelligence, that moves the sphere, Nor sphere itself, do any faintness prove: Because there is no contrainence there, Nat'ralls moved nat'rallie may ever move. If to the centre were an immense space, A stone for ever could maintain the race. But whilst our souls have union with clay, Our limbs in upward motions are pressed By their own struggling weight another way; Exhausted spirits bid our motions rest. No mole's indefatigable, then Had they not fainted, who had thought them men. Now as the English hover on the brink Of ruin, ready now to make a freight For gristley Charon's leaking boat, and sink Under the pressure of their numerous weight. Unto the King regardful suffolk sent: He knows to win, that knows how to prevent. The messenger returns; his anfwer this: Whilst the Prince lives, his highness will not care, Nor think of aid: he saith, the day is his, As lawful as his birthright; nor will share In his unrivald fame: the field must be Either his grave, or stage of victory. Nor was he cruel in this act: his son Now for his honour fought: and in this strife Aid had taken from't; therefore the King sends none, To show he valued honour above life. To be indulgent to his life, had been To kill his honour, and the greater sin. What distance is in man? some are as much Beneath an others virtue as above The worst of beasts: this message cannot touch This man of men, nor his fixed spirit move. But should you it unto a coward tell, It had been deathstroke, and the passing bell. It was to Edward, and this Edward could As well put off himself, as put on fear: It were a ●inne to worth, if any should Not think him dreadless, and undaunted there. For he was heir apparent to the state, And fear had proved him illegitimate. Look, as the earth foundation of all Our staring buildings; yet itself hath none: But it's own self secures itself from fall, And hath no buttresses to lean upon. For whilst grave bodies to the Centre run, They hug that point, & poise themselves thereon Thus an heroic soul lodged in a breast, In which are centered all the lines of worth: Closely compacted on itself doth rest, And for its self it's own supplies draws forth. Edward's own worth, if no supports come on, Is its own base to stay itself upon. Hope in great actions is too weak a hold, And yields her enterteiner to his foe: When churlish winds with testy Neptune scold, We cut the Cables, and let anchors go. Then hope to win, when hope of aid is gone, The way to safety is to look for none. If we had any cowards in the field, They purge their aguish passion, at the sight To see their Prince menace his flaming shield, Like to the Sun; and spear, like Comet light. Where shadows terminate, light issues in. 'Tis first, to dare to fight; 'tis next, to win. But if there were amongst our English host, Within the colder region of whole blood There dwelled perpetuallice, and shiuring frost, Which could not be dissolved: they did this good. For every English that did basely dye, Bequeathed his foe his fear for legacy. The game of death was but a jest before, Turned earnest now: before they did but try To use their weapons; there they did no more, But meditate, here practses how to dye. And if stern Mars had left his sanguine throne, Here he had met more Diomedes' then one. Mortality till now had but defrayed Some trifling reckon on deaths bloody score, Some Items not worth speaking: now Death's paid Whole sums; & Charon's boat which leaked before Had sunk right down; had not his Stygian flood Been made more saileable, thickened with blood. Armour as if 'twere sensible of smart, Falls to the ground: his flesh, who did it bear, Is his own coat of proof to ward his heart: And their own arms are the best targets there. Weapons are dulled, but stomaches keener are, And hearts are better-pointed than they were. In Africa, near heaven's porter Atlas' side, A Lioness besieged by men, and hounds, There makes a breach, where it is most denid; As free from hope of life, as fear of wounds. Led by despair, she scours about the plame, Thirsty of blood, as Africa of rain. So marchd the Prince with his black regiment, (Assisted by the arms of valiant Lords) And topped the gaudy poppies, as they went, And struck such terror, that before their swords Did seize, the French stood trembling; thus an oak Shakes with that wind ushers the thunder stroke. For they like thunder shot their fury through, Where solidnes did most resistance make: And crumble into dust, what would not bow, Whereon they stand, and thence advanced take Their stately flight, on humbled backs we rise, And on the wings of ruin conquest flies. Thus Rome in a sedition was taken, When Arnulph came there mutinies to quell: His soldiers shoutings such amazements struck, That from the wall the startled Romen fell. Their heaps were scaling ladders, and their fall Made him the stairs on which he climbed the wall. The Boheme King in head of all his men Encounters with dehruction, and dares Death to a duel, which did meet him then, And with deep cuts cancel his date of years. Disarmed him not, he still his weapon held As if his ghost should fight, when he was killed. Kings, upon whom many depend, have used T'have danger at a distance, nor at all Tread within reach; the Theban chief accused Himself, for being near an arrows fall. For Kings are those chief stones, which arches knit, Let one be dislocated, all will flit. A loyal subject hath nor life, nor breath But what's infused, and breathed from the Prince: Who if he rashly shall encounter death, Stifles too cruelly his influeuce. And 'tis a problem whether thus to dye, Or greater rashness be, or cruelty. Leaders without disgrace have sometimes fled, He that did fly this day, may next day fight: Great Amurath had not been vanquished, Had not Huniades been saved by flight. Wherelife more than our death avails the state, Valour by flight may look for better fate. But where it doth not, leaders must not move, But cope with danger: here a Captain's flight Reads baseness to his men, and coward love Of an ignoble life; in such a flight. A valiant Diomedes will rather dye, And scorn to stir, though Nestor bids him fly. Twice was the King of France beat off his horse, By Henault mounted up, as oft did rise: And acted to the height of single force, He did so noblic fight, so well advise. He seemed his army's hand, and army's head, He fought like Scaeva, and like Cesar led. The valliaut King still wrestles with his fate, As if he would untwist, what that had weaved: Deeming the web of fate had been like that, With which the Grecian dame her loves deceived. Flesh cannot break the threads, the fates have spun Like Narses web, theirs cannot be undone, Nor Frances strength nor fortune can prevail, Fortune hath left no refuge but to fly: The King turned head, and all his men turned tail, And leave at once the field and victory. Soon turned the King, the army turned as soon, Thus a small rudder turns a Galeone. The King congratulates his son for this Fair earnest of his future victories, And sealeth up his language with a kiss: With mute expressions the Prince replies. Silence hath Rhetoric and veils are best, To portrait that, which cannot be expressed. Wars greater tempest had forgot to blow, And horrors thicker clouds were driven away; But lighter mists, and weaker blasts did now Appear to dim the honour of the day. Thus when a roaring storm hath seized to rave, A trembliug noise still murmurs on the wave. When the next morn had blushed to see the field Look redder than herself, in purple dight: Some scattered troops, as willing to be killed, Came rather to a slanghter, than a fight. If the sound bodies of whole arms fail, 'Tis ruin for sore members to assail. For by the English breathing death, they're blown Out of the field: and day drawn out of night: So many Lords of France were overthrown, That yet I ne'er could judge, if that I might Or a misfortune, or an honour call, That loss should always on their nobles fall. FINIS. THE BATTAIE OF Poitiers under Edward, Sirnanamed the Black Prince. NOt in full orb as yet his honour shines: True honours orbs are filled by digits, grow By orderly addictions, high designs Do with Methodical progression go. Tall Cedars by degrees advance the top, 'Tis Mushroom honour in a night springs up. Nature the hand, and instrument of heaven With sober pace advanceth fairly on: Her pieces are produced by smooth, and even Degrees, and grow by soft accession. Nature by mediums works, leaps not at all, And honour leapt to seems unnatural. But yet she stays not, but doth gently pace In her continued march: and high borne sprights Work, 〈◊〉 Falcon to wring to her place Wins are by constant circlings, not alights. Macedo● heir could glory, he did raise His name by expeditions, not delays. Then on great Prince, the eldest son of Fame, Honour's first borne; continue still to add Items to virtue's sum, and wear a name Charged with more well-won titles, than he had. Contest for thy inheritance in fame, More just thy interest, more fair thy claim. France was the court wherein the case was tried, With title so apparent, proofs so clear; His plea for honour could not be denied By justice bribed: nay if more worlds there were, And Philip's son had triumphed on them all, His suit for honour's birthright here should fall. But he that would court honour in the field, And wed her nobly to his virtue, must Hold passion in; on a firm basis build, And know the causes of his war be just. Great actions, if not founded deep, will reel, The greatest ship must have the strongest keel. To procure peace, or keep a foe at bay By warding injuries, call a war just: But not to hug revenge, and make a way For brutish feritie, but that Kings must Keep Kings in good opinion, that they know, What a wrong is, and how to use a foe. T'enlarge the ●i●ts of Kingdoms, and extend An Empire's arms a war may authorise: The Prince, whom sacred leaves do most commend, And by the style of heaven is writ most wise. Made all the people tributary bee, Were from Euphrates to the midland sea. Or to recover, what our right hath been, And what's deteind unjustly, to regain, Where justice ends, there justly wars begin, Our Edward thus did war in Aquitaine. Thus fierce Camillus taught th'insulting Gaul To weigh the treasure, and restore it all. King john had settled upon Charles his son Aquitaines' D●rchie; which did owe her state To England's Edward, who confirmed it on The Prince, with charge his right to vindicate. King's do mark Kings proceedings, and to eye Their ways is politic necessity. This was that Charles, whom the French stories writ First Dolphin: Vinbert broken at the chance Of's only son's decease, did give his right Of Dolphinie to Philip King of France: But with this coution conferred the same, They should the heir of Franee the Dolphin name Go vindicate thy right? a word what can Effect a wonder on lame cowardice, And teach it move: but to the Prince a man To picture prowess by, it doth but this, Remove those lets which did his valour stay; Streams have self motions, take the dams away. Thus when a ponderous stone, whose wight propende Down to the loved centre, with a stop Hath an encounter as it downward tends: And with the interposure is kept up, Whose'uer shall displace the impediment, Imparts no motion but by accident. Still had their King seen peaces laughing brow, And smother front, had he not bard his foes Of that, for which there was no right to show, As once a Pope the Indies did dispose. Which made the barbarous King to laugh at this, One should dispose of what was none of his. But th'unexperienced King dares sport with flame, And sing his royal pinions, he doth think The bloody die of Mars is but a game: And thirsts wars bitter potions to drink. His father drank not all the viols up, Edward's his doctor to dress him a cup. He musters up his men, extracts the best Out of the English mass, Salisbury, L●le, Suffolk and Warwick: men that might contest With antiquie worth, and lead the right hand file. Wise Princes have wise seconds, nor alone Embark in actions, eyes see more than one. Suppose the general wise, and valiant, Such the commanders; yet if be proposed Projects of consequence, they do not grant They should in one breasts conclave be disposed. But call a martial court, and there debate Which side makes best conclusion for the state. Such were the soldiers here, and such the head, Mars could not here select a soldier out▪ But could command; no captain but could lead The Gods, when they against the Giants fought. Mars would have chose these soldiers in his wars, And Mars his soldiers Edward for their Mars. The Prince eight thousand sineweie archars brings, Armed with fatal engines, which were tried, And never taught the foil; as if their wings Impropriated conquest to their side: Their whistleling shafts always victorious fly, Feathered with plumes were plucked from victory. A thousand men of arms called out, did look Like iron statues, art had taught to go: Which stood more firmly on the ground they took Than Macedon●● Phalanx ere could do. And as the Prince these fiery warriors led, He seemed the star some Comet followed. More to distract, and more to terrify, The English land in diverse parts of France: Whilst Gloucester's forces fight in Normandy, Wales doth in Aquitane the war advance. For in a war that hath more seats than one, Moore fear's diffused, and more pillage won. Charles of Na●ar challenged a right in ●ry, Great Gloster took up arms in Charles his right, And in his own Edwar did France defy, For right the Prince, for right did Gloster fight. For those false Keys which lock up justice, are The Keys which open janus his doors of war Gloster with Philip brother of Navarre, Prevails in Normandy: takes Narbon in, Forces C●rcassou; nor durst fortune bore The cities gates, which Gloster meant to win. He shot without a counterbuffing stock, Like to a thunderbolt through Languedocke. But Gloucester's not my theme: (though that too hi● For best of quills to reach) I must retreat To Edward's quarters, and there vainly try To make his greatness make these measures great. The only muse I sue to is his name, And uncorrupt relation of his fame. And now my fancy sees great Edward rise, Mars his Enthusiast: his actions were Raptures of valour, and deep ecstasies Of man above himself: for drawing here His spirits from their matter, passed more Himself, than he surpassed the world before. He on the stage of Aquitane did play That part, which none beside can personate: In every course or found or made away, And prostrates as infallible as fate. Like to death's harbinger his passage made, And there death lodged, where he lodged his blade Cities of such a strength (that they had been Abler t'ensure the Godlings from surprise, Than bodging in strange shapes:) did let him in As if he had been keeper of the keys. And raineing arrows in a feathered shower, He could have pierced more than a brazen tower. Some towns inveited by their strength withstand, Not out of hope to stand but out of shame: Some yield more to his name, than to his hand, For that had summoned them, before he came. Whilst some are forced, some yielded, as he went, And seemed to have been won by precedent. Thus fall the shrubs, poor neighbours of an oak, Whose top kisseth the clouds, whose root sounds hell Which vanquished by th'assault of sturdy stroke With groniug fall the underwood doth fell. Small states sink with the fall of greater states, The same their fortunes, and the same their fates. Ciement the sixth of Rome strikes in for peace, An act of which few of them guilty are: The Papacy arrived at the increase Of her progression by foreign war. And since the Eagle did some plumes afford, It thrived less by the keys, than by the sword. But Wales th'exact Idea of a son, And true commander, wisely did deny't: Unwarranted from home had it been done, He had entrenchd upon his father's right. Th'injunctions of thy Prince must stand, not thine The soul of Martial feasts is discipline. Stern Manlius yields his victorious son, Unto the lictors axe, because he fought Without command though challendg; and had won The day from Metius, and rich spoils had brought, The loss of such a son doth rather choose Than Rome the least of discipline should lose. No ear to lecture of soft peace is turned, Mars his red letters writ with sword and spear Must still be read, his valour's but adjournd 'tis not prorogued: it was no period here But as a breathing comma to the Prince, Such stops as these are spurs to violence. As I have seen come galloping amain A gentle Knight, who meeting on the road An old friend long unseen, doth entertain Someshort discourse, then with his gingling goad Prick up grasshopper, and devour the way, And win with speed, what he had lost by stay. And thus a stream proud with a fall of rain Topping his banks, and scorning the control Of a poor channel winneth from the plain, And with impetuous violence doth roll. But if some dam shall countercheck his waves, It breaks the dam, and more insulting raves. The Prince shoot smoothly though without recoil; And towns so eas'lie homaged to his name, As if he went but to receive the spoil, Which fortune had told out against he came. And with so swift dispatch effected this, That Caesar's Vici was but slow to this. Fair fortune was engrossd for him by fate, Yet was he not more fortunate, then wise: Wise as Huniades, as fortunate As Castriot, which two this one comprise. He seemed to take towns at a cast, and get (As one Timoleon) cities in a net. Now shiuring winter fledg with feathered rain Covered the earth with beds of waterish down Which warns the Prince to quit the open plain, And have his soldiers winterd in a town. Who unto Bordeaux uninpeachd retreats, And for that year takes leave of matiall feats. The careful Prince will not his men bestow In fields unsheltred, whilst the leagring cold, And battering engines of i'll ice, and snow Assault the spirits, and surprise their hold. Who let their men i'th' field in winter lie, Both combat nature, and the enemy. The Sun surrownding with a fleet carrere, On the highway of the Ecliptic line: Had inned in his winter signs that year, And at the goal his mounture did decline. Thus Edward to his winter Tropic came, Advancing through the Zodiac of fame. As when a fat, and teemeing soil is grown Lean, and o'respent; and by its often birth Threatens a barren womb, the moileing clown Fallows the acres of his languished earth. Thus chiefs indulge their wearied soldiers rest, And husband valour in their fallowed breast. Apollo's yew is not at all times bend, It sometime feriates, and string is slacked: The sinews of his lyre not always rend With screwing torture nor with winding racked These rests and stops with sweet variety, Tune all our actions to a harmony. Now had the Sun rid through his winter stage, And lighted at the lusty ram: the earth With herbs, as Aeson, did renew her age, And was impregnate with a numerous birth. Flora to open her wardrobe did begin, As 'twere to deck her at her lying in. The constellation of the winged steed Rising with Sol, attempereth the air To the radical humour, and doth breed Blood in the strutting veins, and sprights repair. Soldiers in spring doublie their service can, A man in winter is but half a man. The Prince, who had in winter seemed to set, Advanceth forward, with th'advancing Sun: Doth not his resolute designs forget, Nor to consummate what he had begun. Not to promote what we do once commence, Argues a weakness, and a diffidence. Veins would be cram'pd; the stream of blood would freeze, In the old channels, should they longer lie: And if they still should sacrifice to ease, Valour would fall into alethargie. Dull lakes are choked with melancholy mud, Motions doth clear, and cristallize a flood No body's 〈◊〉 healthful without exercise, Just wars are exercises of a state: virtue's in motion, and contends to rise, With generous ascents above a mate. Princes in motion with the spheres contest, Made more for veneration, then for rest. With uncontrowled march he did advance Througb Bruges, Perigort, and Limosin: And seized the bosom of affrighted France, The terror of his acts usherd him in. The loud report of his victorious name Did execution long before he came. As when the nurse's rod cannot appease The Child; at th'hearing of some horrid name 'Tis hushed: thus Turkey with Huniades Stilled their children saying that he came. A frightful name's as forcive as a blow, Both Edward's name, and arm can overthrow. For he, like light diffused, in the air, Spreads without opposition, meets no stay To check his fair proceedings, nor impair His smother fortune wheeling on her way. No lets encountered with his fortunes yet, They ran as smoothly as Musaeus writ. As yet there's no abatement of his power, No blood expended, they did nothing meet Whereby they might diegust the wars, no sour As yet had been attempe●d with their sweet. Thus Arethusa slides through Neptune's bed, And keeps her maiden stream unravished. But whether march we? are the arms of France Pinio'nd with fear? What not a Cavalleere: That for his mistress sake dare try his Lance; If not for's country be a champion here? Yes now their horsemen like a tempest come, Acknowledged then the flower of Christendom. King john such unexpected haste did make (His spirits heated with too quick a fire:) He did the Prince at Poitiers overtake; He winged his hope, and imped his desire, As if he would his hasty fates importune He might outrun his father in misfortune. The King mistook it for a chase, and thought To overtake, were to surprise his foe▪ As when a hound with snuffling long hath sought Through way less woods which way the game did go, Rouses by chance a Lion for a dear▪ And thus the French did rouse a Lion here. Under the heavy burden of their power They seemed to make the groaning earth to yield: And with a cloud of men (able to shower Destruction on the world,) darken the field. A whirlwind scouring from the Northern wain Did ease th'oppressed, clear the darkened plain. They had the odds of number six to one, A wonder by a sixth to be withstood: So many Spears at once, and lances shown, Did in a champain seem to make a wood. But I have heard, a wolf did never fear, A flock of sheep, how great so e'er it were. Let fond Tigranes in a proud despite Scoff at Rome's handful, and in bravery Brag to his men, they were too few for fight, And but too many for an embassy. They chased this braggart, and the conquest wou, And made his honour set before the Sun. They have the odds of country: the cause is Tried in their court; and we are forced to play In their own alley: nay, they're strain by this To fight; they lose the country with the day. But in invasive wars abroad, we do But lose ourselves, and not our country too. Upon the foil, where thou wert borne, to flee Cries bastard in thy face: is it not just To pay her life, which once did lend it thee? Ne'er couldst thou better dye and once thou must. Give me a cock that ne'er durst strike a blow, Upon his dunghill he will beat his foe. Nay, as if fortune had a patent lent For France, t'engross all the advantages, Odds in conceit; conceit, an instrument, Which though pantasticke, gets realities. The pregnant mother's strong imagination Hath given her womb a real alteration. The King of France his army did draw out, And on a spacious plain embattled: His numerous multitude he wheeled about Like the first mover; and the fields did spread With train too long, and wings too short to fly, Unto so high a pitch as victory. His hopes had now imposed on his belief That he already had the victory: He thinks that tedious, which all else think brief He means to ●●●ne his battle presently. Desires are ha●●ie, and when hopes are strong, Minutes are lazy, and compendiums long. They think to scourge our heros, and with steel Whip this young warrior, who now was made Professor in his art, and scorned to feel Check, or correction from the proudest blade. It cannot come into their memories, He had at Crescey fought his master prize. Scorning the petty numbers which we brought, They rate them prisoners more than enemies: And against light, and truth of nature thought That efficatious force in number lies. He is blind-hardy, that will dangers slight For they grow heavy, when they once seem light If chance claimed not an interest in tents, And schools of Mars, than the French numbers might Seem in good eyes enforcing arguments For strong conclusions, but she claims such right, That 'tis a question whether Rome ought more To her own fortitude, or to this whore. But France hath greater opposition here Than single fortune had we cowards been, She had imparkd us like a heard of dear, But in so few ne'er was more valour seen. A multitude could never make a head Against fierce Lions if by Lions lead▪ Whilst the French swollen with vain, & sickish hope Of victory, are ready now to burst In feaue'rish choler on the foe; the Pope With fatherly prevention tried first, It for such fevers any thing might be A sovereign cure besides Phlebotomy. To meditate between this mighty pair He sent two Cardinals: the French withstood With ears of proof, and fortified against prayer, Their Crosier staffs could here do little good, Nay, if the herald of the gods had come, He might have broke his rod, and so flown home. We were too far gone in this maze to fly, Nor humane judgement could present a light To show us out; Time, and necessity Advise the Prince lean to a Peace, which might Be not inglorious, and give a blow Upon his honour deeper than a foe. But France presuming fatally there are Upon her side matchless advantages, Will hear no music but the sounds of war, The hymns of Peace are but dull airs to these. Thus Semele the thundercracke will hear, And dies with that, which only pleased her ear The Prince beset with strong objections Of opposites can no evasion see: Would therefore yield to fair conditions, Nay, yield up all things but himself; and he Cannot be guilty of such base control Whose bodied self's no prison to his soul, Yet this, and only this can satisfy Their high desires: Edward must basely yield Himself a prisoner: nay he'll rather dye, Than yield, and live: nay fore he quits the field, He'll take their King: 'tis just, he that will choose, To take thy freedom, should his freedom lose. He gives conditions, as if we were Now in his hands, and really possessed In's overweening thoughts: and doth not fear Our fortune, and our valour: but professed he'd set us Laws: but Edward thought it fit, Those Laws like Dracoes should in blood be writ. His articles at first did terror strike, And did our minds in dark suspenses hold, But ended things to laugh at; not unlike The armed charets in the field of old Wherein both scythes, and hooks and spears were borne: Were first a terror, afterward a scorn. To yield one's self, and yield before a blow Calls indignation ftom a coward's breast. He could not yield his honour to his foe, For others had in it some interest. He had deceived country, and King for he To them for's honour must accountant be. His life, and honour at the stake did lie. Set to be thrown at in this martial game: he'll therefore use his life courageously To keep from forfeit his ungaged fame; And with a fearless progress dangers meet, Life not in length, but in the use is sweet. The King of France an error did commit, (And wars for errors scarce have second room) Had he but tymd it, and not joined yet We easily would to composition come. Fortune's a Market, if a while you stand, Things do grow cheap, and fall into your hand. We could not with provision be stored, He might have cut it off without a blow: Famine had been more forcive, than the sword; But he will fond buckle with his foe; And by his folly make our fortune great; Serpents prove Dragons when they Serpens eat. Great actions are not moulded on't of hand, They ask their time for just conception; Lest they should prove blind issues; they deman A first, and second agitation, And are on arguments of Counsel tossed, Or on the waves of fortune they are lost. When mature counsel hath concluded, what Is to be done; and how contrived; we need Dispatch, the life of things, to practise that: Consult at leisure, prosecute with speed. Which Tytus by his emblem well descried, A nimble Dolphin to an anchor tied. King john admits no consultation To ripen his designs, as if't had been Too short a time for his perdition. Grappling with dangers brings them sooner in. Actions are weakened with too hasty speed, Thus predigestion doth diseases breed. He Kenns not precedents that went before, But with erected, and ambitious eye, Thinks on surmised advantages to sore, Nor minding what's before him, to mount high. Thus a ceil dove with right up mountures flies, Because she sees not, what before her lies. If he had but his father's legend read, There had been lectures to have taught him wit. The name of Crescey might have struck him dead, To think like fortune might attend us yet. Heaven destining a fall, muffies the eyes, And when it will destroy, it stupefies. When some did th' Emperor Charles the fourth advice To dare the Turkish crescent, he refused: 'Cause through the current of all histories, He saw much blood was in those wars effusd. The ancient times, what is the best, do show, The modern teach what is most fit to do. When Zeuxis did his juno go about, From the choice shapes of th' Agrigentine Dames, He could the rarest of perfections out. Thus Princes do arrive at highest names, For they the best of all examples take, When they the juno of their power do make. Their former sufferings might instructions be: 'tis best another's madness to enjoy: They might their own through other danger see, And with what fate we did our shafts employ. From fire which hath once burnt it, to refreine, Moves in the circle of an Infant's brain, When Archimedes engines once had feared, And did at Siracuse the Romans maul, Not one in all the leaguer once appeared, But stood the space of danger from the wall. If they a piece of rope, or wood did spy, Supposing it an engine, they would fly. From his own loss he'll read instruction, And try experience on himself: they sing To a deaf rock, who tune persuasion: The Card'nalls is dull rhet'ricke: for a King Not to be forced is a glorious state, But not persuaded is a dangerous fate. Wise Chiefs would purchase, were it to be sold, A foes return: which made that worthy say, If he will go, make him a bridge of gold, No mettle is too dear to pave his way. Unwelcome oppositions will at length Create a sudden fury, and new strength. The Freneh well mounted did so firmly ride, They seemed some monster made of man and beast: Thus rid the Centaurs by Enipus side, Invited to Peryth'ous bridal feast. Nessus did fall by great Alcides' Bow, Thus the French Centaurs have their overthrow. john on his horse the confidence did lay, And thinks he sooner shall upon their speed alight at th'hope, and honour of the day, But this opinion did an error breed. An eye through water measures nothing straight, Nor wisdom through the glass of preconceit. He sees not how the prince had laid his men Close in a bushy, and unequal ground, His horse though better could do nothing then, And while at once they feel the arrow's wound And windings of a bush, they do mistake, They feel the stinging of some winding snake. A ground (as I have seen some dining room Whose ceiling art hath cut in wand'ring vines) So that by nature: that no horse can come, But is supplanted by th'entangling twines The creeping vines with their erroneous course, Were made by nature shackles for their horse. We this advantage borrowed from the place, The French Kings error doth another make: No place was given by merit, but by grace, Which make deservers cold to undertake. When no fair aspect shineth on deserts, There is a dearth presaged on arms, and arts. Three hundred horse he culled from the rest, The rest conceiving it a high neglect, Think themselves worst, 'cause others are thought best. And begin to envy, whom he did select. Enuie's a race, in which the runners, mind Those, who do run before, not who behind. In great designs we such impressions see Impeach an action, where the mind must look Pointblank upon the work, nor squinting be By the affections from the business took. A shaking eye hath an uncertain sight, And minds by passion moved aim not right. Vexed with disgrace they discontented grow, And thus distracted, either study why They were rejected with dislike, or how To be revenged for such an injury. And readi'r are to double their despite, Than animate their courages to fight. The Prince helped by these errors, and the ground Strengthened by nature, where his men were laid, Used art to make it stronger than 'twas found, That it might more unpassable be made. Rests not in what was by mere nature done▪ Art is to perfect what that hath begun. The night before, ditches, and trenches cast, So wide, they might not by the horse be leapt. His Archers close behind the banks were placed, From whence they shot, and were so safely kept. That I would prove, and by no proof but this, The place conserveth what contained is. Yet it were weakness, if he were content With strength of place: and therefore that he might Have breasts as fortified, he did present His men with the necessity to fight. When a, needs must, commands us to begin, We lose with honour, or with wonder win. His men with obstinacy armed so, And resolution, that the farewell breath Of Edward's gasping men could blast a foe. And if no friends would vindicate their death, Yet this should be their comfort, here to dye, Would be their birthday to eternity. And now with horror I the French espy Come rolling o'er the Champain like a flood. Their swords like scourging Comets in the Sky Prognosticated deluges of blood, To drown us in, but that the English bow Like the propitious meteor said no. Here you may see their formest troop of horse With a resolved bravery charge the banks: There see the ruder archers break their course, And spoil the method of their ordered ranks. Thus against a rock deep founded in the main, The waves oft sally, oft repulsed again. There see their second troop so close compact, As if that all should but inflict one stroke; And be as but one person in that act: But falling on our men at arms, are broke. Thus on the stones a storm of hail doth fall, It breaks itself, and doth not hurt at all. Now see the third ride forward in a brave, Then backward beat, then vanish out of sight. As I have seen a straw slide on a wave, Until encountered by a narrow straight, Then forward, backward, and about it whirls, And then is swallowed in the waterish curls. We had been ouerlaied with numbers now, And if declining had been crushed straight: The body of our army did not bow, But standing right is settled with their weight. Imposed weights columns which lean deface, But standing straight they fix them on their base Had Plato seen this army he would swear, (Ravished to see such wonders done by men) Valour's Idea had existence there, And ne'er before vouchsafed to lodge with men. Valour so high, that whatsoever may be Conceived of it, is no hyperbolie. Here Edward fought, and there the French men fly, Whilst he an alley through their quarters made: They count it not a harm, but grace to dye, If that their deaths were honoured by his blade, No Herald shows an arms of such a note, As where his weapons gave the bloody coat. There Audley stood, thus Diomedes did stand, When he the God of battle did defy: His flaming sword came lightning from a hand, Of as swift execution, as his eye. The bloody lines which there his steel did write, Were perfect copies how the world should fight. Who is that? Warwick? yes 'tis he, be gone, He is death's swordbearer, who went before To make death way, which else could have got none▪ He slaughtered many, and affrighted more. The thunder dart though but on one it fall, Yet doth it strike a terror on them all. There come the common soldiers, who did light Their valour at their Captains: no commands Of leaders, but examples bid them fight, They seemed like Briareus with's hundred hands. And if employed, they could as well, as he, Have rescused jupiter, and set him free. So many heaps of slaughtered men did raise The field in swelling hills, that no man will Have faith enough in these last faithless days, To think the sword so many men could kill; But rather that some stroke from heaven did fall, Or spreeding sickness did infect them all. Those witty feigners of antiquity, That with a drop was from some lover shed, Could give a tincture to the mulberry, And make her greener fruit, look sanguine red. Had they then lived and this field had seen There had no fruit in all the world been green. See in that heap one man among the rest, Under those bleeding carcases survive, And by the weighty multitude oppressed: Themselves unburied bury him alive. And must be pleased with this unequal lot, The living shall have graves, the dead have not. Here arms lopped off; put them in mind to use The service of their legs in time, before They shall those necessary members lose. Here one that lost a leg fretted, and swore At his own madness he so long should stay That now he could not run, but hop away. There might you see a helmet full of head, Like to an iron monument stand out. Here all the field with plumes of feathers spread, Which mocked by the winds did fly about. The hou'ring plumes presented to their sight, Was a presaging emblem of their flight. Here john of France with steely wand did show Wonders, encircled in a hostile ring: There hardy Philip ran the army through, To disengage his father, and his King. Thus African amongst the thickest ranks, Fought for old Scipio at Ticinus banks. But what is that I hear? o 'tis fly, fly, Or a rude noise of Soldiers that would ●iue, And in confusion for quarter cry, Which should they sooner ask, he'd sooner give. Valour, and mercy are the fixed poles On which the sphere of Edward's honour rowles. King's are Gods pictures, and their mercy lend, Best life unto the Pieces clemency, And moderation do best commend Their actions, and their fortunes beautify. These glorious lustres are the varnish cast, Which makes their acts not only shine, but last Mercy declared unto a foe, doth show weare citizens of this world; and would not be Cut off by freity; and le's men know No separatists are in humanity, Here we maintain communion, for our hearts Are continents not Isles from other parts. King john with humble state is entertained, Not dealt with roughly as an enemy; Edward by valour his first conquest gained, And wins a second by his courtesy. Base wolves, and bears still urge a yielding foe, Edward's a Lion, and he can't do so. In midst of triumph, here the crier say, Remember thou art man, to moderate Thy fortune: on a steep descent we stay, Ourselves, and horse; thus in a high-raisd state We use a moderation, and begin On fortunes steep to rhene our pnssions in. So many prisoners at this battle took, Who did into the arms of mercy yield: As might have taken us; at the first look They seemed enough to win again the field. Save that these odds did for the English stand, One keeper can ten prisoners command. So many Noble Lords did write with blood, And seal with wounds that France did love her King As if the Nobles did not think it good, The commons should their testimony bring To ratify that truth; themselves will be Th'only subscribers to this verity. Edward the heavens doth humbly gratify, Whose stars had for him in their courses fought, And lead him by the hand to victory And like sure convoys through his dangers brought: Timotheus thrives not, after he denies A share to fortune in his victories. Then he bestows rich largesse on his men T'inflame their minds, that if they did not love Virtue for her own self, rewards should then Win their loves to her, and their dulness move. Reward is the great pillar of a state, Which doth support as strongly, as her fate. Then heightens them with commendations, praise Is the reflection doth from virtue rise; These fair encomiums do virtue raise To higher acts: to praise is to advise, Telling men what they are, we let them see, And represent to them what they should be. And they were worthy of it: Rome ne'er saw An army yet, to which this host would yield, Nor braver Chief than Edward ere did draw Her powerful legions into the field. Edward shall mate the proudest He of Rome, Let Caesar's self her great dictator come. When Rome had conquered all the world beside, Then, and but then she durst attempt the Gauls, Gauls, who before her powers did deride, And oft had scourged her at her own walls. Rome never durst the stubborn Gaul defy, Till she had not another enemy. But England had another powerful foe, The hardy Scot, to threaten from the North Incursions: yet then did Edward go From home, and lead with him an army forth. And spite of Oracle a conquest win Which said we should with Scotland first begin. Victorious Cesar bed ezperienced men, Customed as well to conquests, as to fights: Those whom heroic Wales conducted then, Were but mere novices in Mars his rites. New changed the whip for sword, the share for shield, And Ceres fat for Mars his bloody field. The Gauls indeed were resolute in war, Whom Cesar with his legions vanquished: Yet were those Gauls inferior by far Unto the French: for the French conquered The Gauls, who could not then themselves defend Eue'n when that Rome did them assistance lend. Ariovistus with his Germans had The Gauls in slavery (a great allay To the best tempered spirits) and had made Factions to take their sovereignty away. Seditions are the rills, which at the length, Weaken the current, and main stream of strength But now the French were free, a settled state, And fixed in the obedience to one Lord, A King for fame, and fortune wondered at, Under his colours Kings did draw the sword. A King for whom one did himself bereave Of rule for love, and one for money leave. Against a state so strong, and settled thus, Edward durst come with an unpractisd few, The French had more advantages of us, ●han Cesar of those Gauls he overthrew. And yet there were more marks of valour mad● In France by th' English than the Roman blade. Then why hath history so copious been, In old Rome's strength, as if it meant to say, Not what should win belief, but wonder win, Thus Alexander left in India So great an armour, which should rather be, T'amaze, than to inform posterity. Mighty third Edward thou didst propagate Strength in thy children, though we often see Their seed degen'rous, and 'tis thought a fate The sons of Heroes should a blemish be, Pure was the grain when it at first was sown, But it hath many husks when it is grown. Who hath in virtue's Zenith seated been Swerves farthest in his fall: a mighty spirit, Highly sublimed is stranger to a mean: Nor is it foiled in sin, but falls down right. And for the sins which such great sires have done The heavens have oft took vengeance on the son. And sometime too, great men uxorious are, (So was Themistocles) and let their wives With too indulgent education mar The hoped fortunes of their children's lives. Children like water on a table spilt Are easily drawn into what shape thou wilt. But noble Edward's fortitude descends Down to his sons: this royal Eagle breeds An airy of true Eaglets, not commends Doves to the world; a valiant race succeeds. This valiant father: ne'er could Heros vaunt Of two such mighty sons as Wales and Gaunt. Now farewell Lords, who seem t'have thrown despair Upon the world; which fears while it shall last It hardly shall be crowned with such a pair, For nature lost the moulds, where they were cast: Or else in making them she spent such store, That she hath scarce materials for more. FINIS.