Arms were from shoulders sent,
Scalps to the teeth were rent,
Down the French peasants went:
Our men were hardy.
This while, our noble King,
His broad sword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding,
As to o'erwhelm it:
And many a deep wound lent,
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.
Gloster, that Duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood
With his brave brother;
Clarence, in steel so bright,
Though but a maiden knight,
Yet in that furious fight
Scarce such another.
Warwick in blood did wade,
Oxford the foe invade,
And cruel slaughter made
Still, as they ran up;
Suffolk his axe did ply;
Beaumont and Willoughby
Bare them right doughtily,
Ferrers and Fanhope.
Upon Saint Crispin's day
Fought was this noble fray;
Which Fame did not delay
T' England to carry:
O when shall Englishmen
With such acts fill a pen,
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?
The English Camp near Bordeaux.
Talbot. O young John Talbot ! I did send for thee,
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot's name might be in thee revived,
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping-chair.
But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger :
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight : come, dally not, be gone.
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son?
And shall I fly? O! if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard, and a slave of me :
The world will say, he is not Talbot's blood,
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.
Talbot. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
John. He that flies so will ne'er return again.
Talbot. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
John. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly :
Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done :
You fled for vantage, every one will swear;
But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If the first hour I shrink, and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserved with infamy.
SHAKSPERE, I Henry VI., Act iv. Sc. v.
RICHMOND AT BOSWORTH FIELD.
MORE than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on : yet remember this,—
God and our good cause fight upon our side:
The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces.
Richard except, those whom we fight against
Had rather have us win than him they follow.
For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide:
One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One that made means to come by what he hath
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help
A base, foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set :
One that hath ever been God's enemy.
Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers;
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire;
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;
If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit it in your age.-
Then, in the name of God, and all these rights,
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords.
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corse on the earth's cold face;
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt,
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully;
God and Saint George! Richmond and victory!
SHAKSPERE, King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
LATIMER AND RIDLEY: CRANMER.
Lord William Howard (afterwards Lord Howard, and Lord High Admiral).
Peters (Gentleman of Lord Howard).
Paget. And you saw Latimer and Ridley die? Latimer was eighty, was he not? his best
Look'd somewhat crooked on him in his frieze;
But after they had stript him to his shroud,
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