Stanza 230

And through the Ranckes then rushing in their pride, They make a Lane; about them so they lay, Foote goes with foote, and side is ioynde to side, They strike downe all that stand within their way, And to direct them, haue no other guide, But as they see the multitude to sway; And as they passe, the French as to defie, Saint George for England and the King they cry.

[Stanza 231: One braue exploit begetteth another.]

By their examples, each braue English blood, Vpon the Frenchmen for their Ensignes runne, Thick there as trees within a well-growne wood; Where great Atchiements instantly were done, Against them toughly whilst that Nation stood, But o what man his destinie can shunne That Noble Suffolke there is ouerthrowne, When he much valour sundry wayes hath showne.

[Stanza 232: The Earle of Suffolke slaine.]

Which the proud English further doth prouoke, Who to destruction bodily were bent, That the maine Battaile instantly they broke, Vpon the French so furiously they went And not an English but doth scorne a stroake, If to the ground it not a Frenchman sent, Who weake with wounds, their weapons from them threw, With which the English fearefully them slue.

[Stanza 233: The English kill the French with their owne weapons.]

Alanzon backe vpon the Reareward borne, By those vnarm'd that from the English fled, All further hopes then vtterly forlorne, His Noble heart in his full Bosome bled; What Fate, quoth he, our ouerthrowe hath sworne, Must France a Prisoner be to England led, Well, if she be so, yet Ile let her see, She beares my Carkasse with her, and not me.