The Captaines of this Rascall cowardly Route, Were Isambert of Agincourt at hand, Riflant of Clunasse a Dorpe there about, And for the Chiefe in this their base command, Was Robinett of Burnivile; throughout The Countrie knowne, all order to withstand, These with fiue hundred Peasants they had rais’d The English Tents, vpon an instant seas’d. [Stanza 298] For setting on those with the Luggadge left, A few poore Sutlers with the Campe that went, They basely fell to pillage and to theft, And hauing rifled euery Booth and Tent, Some of the sillyest they of life bereft, The feare of which, some of the other sent, Into the Army, with their suddaine cries, Which put the King in feare of fresh supplies. [Stanza 299: _The French prisoners more in number then the English Souldiers._] For that his Souldiers tyred in the fight, Their Prisoners more in number then they were, He thought it for a thing of too much weight, T’oppose freshe forces, and to guard them there. The Daulphins Powers, yet standing in their sight, And Burbons Forces of the field not cleere. These yearning cryes, that from the Caridge came, His bloud yet hott, more highly doth inflame [Stanza 300] And in his rage he instantly commands, That euery English should his prisoner kill, Except some fewe in some great Captaines hands Whose Ransomes might his emptyed Cofers fill, Alls one whose loose, or who is nowe in bonds, Both must one way, it is the Conquerers will. Those who late thought, small Ransoms them might free Saw onely death their Ransomes now must be. [Stanza 301: _The English kill their prisoners._] [_Expostulation._] Accursed French, and could it not suffize, That ye but now bath’d in your natiue gore; But yee must thus infortunately rise, To drawe more plagues vpon yee then before, And gainst your selfe more mischeife to diuise, Then th’English could haue, and set wide the dore. To vtter ruine, and to make an end Of that your selues, which others would not spend. [Stanza 302] Their vtmost rage the English now had breath’d, And their proud heartes gan somewhat to relent, Their bloody swords they quietly had sheath’d, And their strong bowes already were vnbent, To easefull rest their bodies they bequeath’d, Nor farther harme at all to you they ment, And to that paynes must yee them needsly putt, To draw their kniues once more your throats to cutt. [Stanza 303: _The French cause of their own massechre._] [_A discriptyon of the Massachre in the foure following stanzas._]