Looke how you see a field of standing Corne, When some strong winde in Summer haps to blowe, At the full height, and ready to be shorne, Rising in waues, how it doth come and goe Forward and backward, so the crowds are borne, Or as the Edie turneth in the flowe: And aboue all the Bills and Axes play, As doe the Attoms in the Sunny ray. [Stanza 209] Now with mayne blowes their Armours are vnbras’d, And as the French before the English fled, With their browne Bills their recreant backs they baste, And from their shoulders their faint Armes doe shred, One with a gleaue neere cut off by the waste, Another runnes to ground with halfe a head: Another stumbling falleth in his flight, Wanting a legge, and on his face doth light. [Stanza 210] The Dukes who found their force thus ouerthrowne, And those fewe left them ready still to route, Hauing great skill, and no lesse courage showne; Yet of their safeties much began to doubt, For hauing fewe about them of their owne, And by the English so impal’d about, Saw that to some one they themselues must yeeld, Or else abide the fury of the field. [Stanza 211: _The Duke of Burbon and Orleance taken prisoners._] They put themselues on those victorious Lords, Who led the Vanguard with so good successe, Bespeaking them with honourable words, Themselues their prisoners freely and confesse, Who by the strength of their commanding swords, Could hardly saue them from the slaught’ring presse, By Suffolks ayde till they away were sent, Who with a Guard conuay’d them to his Tent. [Stanza 212] When as their Souldiers to eschew the sack, Gainst their owne Battell bearing in their flight, By their owne French are strongly beaten back: Lest they their Ranks, should haue disord’red quight, So that those men at Armes goe all to wrack Twixt their owne friends, and those with whom they fight, Wherein disorder and destruction seem’d To striue, which should the powerfullest be deem’d. [Stanza 213: _Called of some Guiscard the Daulphine of Aragon._] And whilst the Daulphine of Auerney cryes, Stay men at Armes, let Fortune doe her worst, And let that Villaine from the field that flyes By Babes yet to be borne, be euer curst: All vnder heauen that we can hope for, lyes On this dayes battell, let me be the first That turn’d yee back vpon your desperate Foes, To saue our Honours, though our lyues we lose. [Stanza 214] To whom comes in the Earle of Ewe, which long Had in the Battaile ranged here and there, A thousand Bills, a thousand Bowes among, And had seene many spectakles of feare, And finding yet the Daulphins spirit so strong, By that which he had chanst from him to heare, Vpon the shoulder claps him, Prince quoth he, Since I mast fall, ô let me fall with thee. [Stanza 215]