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.