Stanza 37

One traynes his Horse, another trayles his Pyke, He with his Pole-Axe, practiseth the fight, The Bowe-man (which no Country hath the like) With his sheafe Arrow, proueth by his might, How many score off, he his Foe can strike, Yet not to draw aboue his bosomes hight: The Trumpets sound the Charge and the Retreat, The bellowing Drumme, the Martch againe doth beat.

[Stanza 38: Great Ordnance then but newly in vse.]

Cannons vpon their Caridge mounted are, Whose Battery France must feele vpon her Walls, The Engineer prouiding the Petar, To breake the strong Percullice, and the Balls, Of Wild-fire deuis'd to throw from farre, To burne to ground their Pallaces and Halls: Some studying are, the scale which they had got, Thereby to take the Leuell of their Shot.