That French who lately by the English stood, And freely ask’d what ransome he should pay, Whoe somwhat coold, and in a calmer moode, Agreed with him both of the some and day, Nowe findes his flesh must be the present foode, For wolues and Rauens, for the same that stay. And sees his blood on th’others sword to flowe, E’r his quicke sense could aprehend the blowe. [Stanza 304] Whilst one is asking what the bus’nesse is, Hearing (in French) his Country-man to crye: He who detaines him prisoner, answers this: Mounsier, the King commands that you must dye; This is plaine English, whilst he’s killing his: He sees another on a French man flye, And with a Poleax pasheth out his braines, Whilst he’s demanding what the Garboyle meanes. [Stanza 305] That tender heart whose chance it was to haue, Some one, that day who did much valour showe, Who might perhaps haue had him for his Slaue: But equall Lots had Fate pleas’d to bestowe: He who his prisoner willingly would saue, Lastly constrain’d to giue the deadly blowe That sends him downe to euerlasting sleepe: Turning his face, full bitterly doth weepe. [Stanza 306] Ten thousand French that inwardly were well, Saue some light hurts that any man might heale: Euen at an instant, in a minute fell, And their owne friends their deathes to them to deale. Yet of so many, very fewe could tell, Nor could the English perfectly reueale, The desperate cause of this disastrous hap, That euen as Thunder kill’d them with a clap. [Stanza 307] How happy were those in the very hight, Of this great Battaile, that had brauely dyde, When as their boyling bosomes in the fight, Felt not the sharpe steele thorough them to slide: But these now in a miserable plight, Must in cold blood this massacre abide, Caus’d by those Villaines (curst aliue and dead,) That from the field the passed morning fled. [Stanza 308] When as the King to Crowne this glorious day, Now bids his Souldiers after all this toyle, (No forces found that more might them dismay) Of the dead French to take the gen’rall spoyle, Whose heapes had well neere stopt vp eu’ry way; For eu’n as Clods they cou’red all the soyle, Commanding none should any one controle, Catch that catch might, but each man to his dole. [Stanza 309] They fall to groping busily for gold, Of which about them the slaine French had store, They finde as much as well their hands can hold, Who had but siluer, him they counted poore, Scarfes, Chaines, and Bracelets, were not to be told, So rich as these no Souldiers were before; Who got a Ring would scarsly put it on, Except therein there were some Radiant stone. [Stanza 310]