Stanza 226

Their Curates are vnriuetted with blowes, With horrid wounds their breasts and faces slasht; There drops a cheeke, and there falls off a nose: And in ones face his fellowes braines are dasht; Yet still the Better with the English goes; The earth of France with her owne blood is washt; They fall so fast, she scarse affords them roome, That one mans Trunke becomes anothers Toombe.