One his bright sharpe-eg’d Semiter doth showe, Off’ring to lay a thousand Crownes (in pride) That he two naked English at one blowe, Bound back to back will at the wasts diuide, Some bett his sword will do’t, some others no, After the Battaile, and they’ll haue it tride: Another wafts his Blade about his head, And shewes them how their hamstrings he will shread. [Stanza 146] They part their prisoners, passing them for debt, And in their Ransome ratibly accord To a Prince of ours, a Page of theirs they set; And a French Lacky to an English Lord; As for our Gentry them to hyre they’ll let, And as good cheape as they can them afford, Branded for Slaues that if they hapt to stray, Knowne by the marke, them any one might slay. [Stanza 147] And cast to make a Chariot for the King, Painted with Antickes, and ridiculous toyes, In which they meane to Paris him to bring, To make sport to their Madames and their Boyes, And will haue Rascalls, Rymes of him to sing, Made in his mock’ry; and in all these ioyes, They bid the Bells to ring, and people crie, Before the Battaile, France and Victorie. [Stanza 148] And to the King and Daulphine sent away (Who at that time residing were in Roane) To be partakers of that glorious day: Wherein the English should be ouerthrowne, Lest that of them ensuing times should say, That for their safety they forsooke their owne: When France did that braue victory obtaine, That shall her lasting’st monument remaine. [Stanza 149] The poore distressed Englishmen the whiles, Not dar’d by doubt, and lesse appaul’d with dread Of their Arm’d Pykes, some sharpning are the pyles, The Archer grinding his barb’d Arrow head: Their Bills and Blades, some whetting are with Files: And some their Armours strongly Riueted: Some pointing Stakes to stick into the ground, To guard the Bow-men, and their Horse to wound. [Stanza 150: _The Ryot in the French Campe the night before the Battell._] The night fore-running this most dreadfull day: The French that all to iollity encline: Some fall to dancing, some againe to play: And some are drinking to this great Designe: But all in pleasure spend the night away: The Tents with lights, the Fields with Boone-fires shine: The common Souldiers Free-mens Catches sing: With showtes and laughter all the Campe doth ring. [Stanza 151] The wearied English watchfull o’r their Foes, (The depth of night then drawing on so fast) That fayne a little would themselues repose, With thanks to God, doe take that small repast Which that poore Village willingly bestowes: And hauing plac’d their Sentinels at last, They fall to Prayer, and in their Cabins blest, T’refresh their spirits, then tooke them to their rest. [Stanza 152: _Pondering in his thoughts, his Fathers comming to the Crowne by deposing the rightfull King._]