Agincourt, Battle of, Agincourt, France, 1415 -- Poetry
A Route of tatter’d Rascalls starued so,
As forced through extreamity of need
To rake for scraps on Dunghils as they goe,
And on the Berries of the Shrubs to feed,
Besides with fluxes are enfeebled so,
And other foule diseases that they breed,
That they, there Armes disabled are to sway,
But in their march doe leaue them on the way.
[Stanza 125]
And to our people but a handfull are,
Scarse thirtie thousand, when to Land they came,
Of which to England dayly some repayre,
Many from Harflew carried sicke and lame,
Fitter for Spittles, and the Surgions care,
Then with their Swords on vs to winne them fame,
Vnshod, and without stockings are the best,
And those by Winter miserably opprest.
[Stanza 126]
To let them dye vpon their march abroad,
And Fowles vpon their Carkases to feed,
The heapes of them vpon the common road
A great infection likely were to breed,
For our owne safeties see them then bestow’d,
And doe for them this charitable deede:
Vnder our Swords together let them fall,
And one that day they dye, be buried all.
[Stanza 127]
This bold invectiue forc’d against the Foe,
Although it most of the Assembly seas’d,
Yet those which better did the English know,
Were but a little with his speeches pleas’d,
And that the Duke of Berry meant to showe:
Which when the murmure somewhat was appeas’d,
After a while their listning silence breakes,
And thus in answere of Alanzon speakes.
[Stanza 128: _The Duke of Berrys answere to Alanzon._]
My Liedge, quoth he, and you my Lords, and Peeres,
Whom this great businesse chiefely doth concerne,
By my experience, now so many yeeres
To know the English I am not to learne;
Nor I more feeling haue of humane feares
Than fitteth Manhood, nor doe hope to earne
Suffrage from any; but by zeale am wonne,
To speake my minde here, as the Duke hath done.
[Stanza 129]
Th’euents of Warre are various (as I know)
And say, the losse vpon the English light,
Yet may a dying man giue such a blow,
As much may hinder his proud Conquerours might;
It is enough our puissant power to showe
To the weake English, now vpon their flight,
When want, and winter, strongly spurre them on,
You else but slay them, that would faine be gon.
[Stanza 130]
I like our Forces their first course should hold,
To skirmish with them, vpon euery stay,
But fight by no meanes with them, though they would,
Except they finde them forraging for pray,
So still you haue them shut vp in a Fould,
And still to Callis keepe them in their way;
So Fabius wearied Hanibal, so we
May English Henry, pleased if you be.
[Stanza 131]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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