Wisdom must judge 'twixt men apt to amend, And minds incurable, born to offend.

"It is no private cause, I do protest,

That moves me thus to prosecute this deed:
Would God his blood and mine had well releas'd
The dangers that his p. Je is like to breed.
Aithongh at me he seems to have address'd
His spite; 't is not the end he hath decreed.
I am not he alone he doth pursue;

But thorough me, he means to shoot at you.

"For thus these great reformers of a state,
Aspiring to attain the government,
Still take advantage of the people's hate,
Whoever hate such as are eminent.
(For who can great affairs negotiate,
And all a wayward multitude content?)

And then these people-minions, they must fall
To work out us, to work themselves int' all.

"But note, my lord, first who is in your hand;
Then how he hath offended; what's his end.
It is the man, whose race would seem to stand
Before your right, and doth a right pretend:
Who (traitor-like) hath rais'd a mighty band,
With colour, your proceedings to amend:
Which if it should have happen'd to succeed,
You had not now sat to adjudge his deed.

"If oftentimes the person, not th' offence,
Have been sufficient cause of death to some,
Where public safety puts in evidence
Of mischief, likely by their life to come;
Shall he, whose fortune and his insolence
Have both deserv'd to die, escape that doom;
When you shall save your land, your crown thereby;
And since you cannot live, unless he die?"
Thus spake th' aggrieved duke, that gravely saw
Th' incompatible pow'rs of princes' minds;
And what affliction bis escape might draw
Unto the state, and people of all kinds :
And yet the humble yielding, and the awe
Which York 12 there show'd, so good opinion finds,
That (with the rumour of his son's great strength,
And French affairs) he there came quit at length.
For ev❜n the fear t' exasperate the heat [might
Of th' earl of March, whose forward youth and
Well follow'd, seem'd a proud revenge to threat,
If any shame should on his father light;
And theu desire in Gascoign to reget
The glory lost, which home-broils hinder might,
Advantaged the duke, and sav'd his head,
Which questionless had else been hazarded.

Giving an interpause to pride and spite;
Which breath'd but to break out with greater might.
Whilst dreadful Talbot, terrour late of France,
Against the genius of our fortune strove,
The down-thrown glory of our state t' advance;
Where France far more than France he now doth
For friends, opinion, and succeeding chance, [prove;
(Which wrought the weak to yield, the strong to love)
Were not the same that he had found before
In happier times, when less would have done more.
For both the Britain 14 and Burgonian now
Came alter'd with our luck, and won with theirs
Those bridges, and the gates that did allow
So easy passage unto our affairs;

Judging it safer to endeavour how

To link with strength, than lean unto despairs.
"And who wants friends to back what he begins,
In lands far off gets not, although he wins."
Which too well prov'd this fatal enterprise,
The last that lost us all we had to lose;
Where though advantag'd by some mutinies,
And petty lords that in our cause arose ;
Yet those great fail'd, whose ready, quick supplies,
Ever at hand, cheer'd us, and quell'd our foes.
Succours from far come seldom to our mind:
"For who holds league with Neptune and the wind ?”

Yet worthy Talbot ", thou didst so employ
The broken remnants of disscatter'd pow'r,
That they might see it was our destiny,
Not want of spirit, that lost us what was our:
Thy dying hand sold them the victory
With so dear wounds, as made the conquest sowre;
So much it cost to spoil who were undone,
And such ado to win when they had won.
For as a fierce, courageous mastiff fares,
That having once sure fasten'd on his foe,
Lies tugging on that hold; never forbears,
What force soever force him to forego:
The more he feels his wounds, the more he dares;
As if his death were sweet, in dying so:
So held his hold this lord, whilst he held breath;
And scarce, but with much blood, lets go in death.
For though he saw prepar'd against his side,
Both unlike fortune, and unequal force,
Born with the swelling current of their pride
Down the main stream of a most happy course;
Yet stands he stiff, undash'd, unterrify'd;
His mind the same, although his fortune worse:
Virtue in greatest dangers b'ing best shown;
And though oppress'd, yet never overthrown.
For rescuing of besieg'd Chatillion,
(Where having first constrain'd the French to fly,
And following hard on their confusion)
Comes (lo!) encounter'd with a strong supply
Of fresh-arriving pow'rs, that back thrust on
Those flying troops, another chance to try;

14 The dukes of Britany and Burgundy were great

more.

13 The city of Bourdeaux send their ambassadors, offering to revolt from the French part, if aid might be sent unto them: whereupon John lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury, was employed with a power of three thousand men, and surprised the city of Bourdeaux.

15 The earl of Shrewsbury, accompanied with his son, sir John Talbot, lord Lisle by the right of his wife; with the lords Molins, Harrington, and Cameis; sir John Howard, sir John Vernon, and others, recovered divers towns in Gascony; amongst other, the town and castle of Chastillon in Perigent, which the French soon after besieged.

Who double-arm'd, (with shame and fury) strain
To wreak their foil, and win their fame again.

Which see'ng, th' undaunted Talbot (with more
Of spir't to will, than hands of pow'r to do) [might
Preparing t' entertain a glorious fight,
Cheers up his weary'd soldiers thereunto. [sight,
"Courage," saith he "Those braving troops in
Are but the same that now you did undo.
And what if there be come some more than they?
They come to bring more glory to the day.

"For they shall see, when we (in careless sort)
Shall throw ourselves on their despised spears;
"T is not despair that doth us so transport,
But ev'n true fortitude that nothing fears;
Sith we may well retire ús in some sort :
But shame on him that such a foul thought bears.
For be they more, let Fortune take their part;
We'll tug her too, and scratch her ere we part."

This said, a fresh infus'd desire of fame
Enters their warmed blood, with such a will,
That they deem'd long they were not at the game;
And though they march'd apace, thought they stood
still,

And that their ling'ring foes too slowly came
To join with them, spending much time but ill.
"Such force had words fierce humours up to call,
Sent from the mouth of such a general."

Who yet his forces weighing, (with their fire)
Turns him about in private to his son 16,
(A worthy son, and worthy such a sire)
And telleth him what ground he stood upon,
Advising him in secret to retire;

Consid'ring how his youth but now begun,
Would make it unto him at all no stain;

To whom th' aggrieved son, (as if disgrac'd)
"Ah! father, have you then selected me
To be the man, whom you would have displac'd
Out of the roll of immortality?
What have I done this day, that hath defac'd
My worth; that my hands work despis❜d should be?
God shield I should bear home a coward's name:
He long enough hath liv'd, who dies with fame."

At which the father, touch'd with sorrowing joy,
Turn'd him about, (shaking his head) and says,
"O my dear son, worthy a better day,
To enter thy first youth in hard assays!"
And now had wrath, impatient of delay,
Begun the fight, and further speeches stays.
Fury thrusts on; striving whose sword should be
First warmed in the wounds of th' enemy.

Hotly these small (but mighty-minded) bands (As if ambitious now of death) do strain Against innumerable armed hands,

And gloriously a wondrous fight maintain;
Rushing on all whatever strength withstands,
Whetting their wrath on blood, and on disdain;
And so far thrust, that hard 't were to descry,
Whether they more desire to kill, or die.

Frank of their own, greedy of others' blood,
No stroke they give but wounds, no wound but kills:
Near to their hate, close to their work they stood;
Hit where they would, their hand obeys their wills;
Scorning the blow from far that doth no good,
Loathing the crack, unless some blood it spills:
No wounds could let out life that wrath held in,
Till others' wounds reveng'd did first begin.
So much true resolution wrought in those
Who had made covenant with death before,
That their small number (scorning so great foes)
Made France most happy, that there were no more;
And Fortune doubt to whom she might dispose
That weary day; or unto whom restore
The glory of a conquest dearly bought,
Which scarce the conqueror could think well got.

For as with equal rage, and equal might,
Two adverse winds combat, with billows proud,
And neither yield: (seas, skies maintain like fight,
Wave against wave oppos'd, and cloud to cloud:)
So war both sides with obstinate despite,
Fronting each other with confounding blows,
With like revenge; and neither party bow'd:
No wound one sword unto the other owes.

Whilst Talbot (whose fresh ardour having got
A marvellous advantage of his years)
Carries his unfelt age as if forgot,
Whirling about where any need appears.
His hand, his eye, his wits all present, wrought
The function of the glorious part he bears:
Now urging here, now cheering there, he flies;
Unlocks the thickest troops, where most force lies.

In midst of wrath, of wounds, of blood, and death,
There is he most, where as he may do best;

And there the closest ranks he severeth,

tire him out of the battle.

Till Death became best master of the field.

Which blood not lost, but fast laid up with heed
In everlasting fame, is there held dear,
To seal the memory of this day's deed;
Th' eternal evidence of what we were:
To which our fathers, we, and who succeed,
Do owe a sigh, for that it touch'd us near 1.
Nor must we sin so much, as to neglect
The holy thought of such a dear respect.
Yet happy-hapless day, bless'd ill-lost breath,
Both for our better fortune, and your own!
For what foul wounds, what spoil, what shameful
Had by this forward resolution grown ; [death,
If at St. Albans, Wakefield, Barnet-Heath,
It should unto your infamy been shown?
Bless'd you, that did not teach how great a fault
Ev'n virtue is in actions that are naught.

Yet would this sad day's loss had now been all
That this day lost: then should we not much plain,
If hereby we had com'n but there to fall,
And that day ended, ended had our pain.
Then small the loss of France, of Guien small:
Nothing the shame to be turu'd home again,
Compar'd with other shames-But now France lost,
Sheds us more blood than all her winning cost.

17 The death of John lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury; who had served in the wars of France most valiantly for the space of thirty years.

18 The death of the lord Lisle, son to this worthy earl of Shrewsbury.

19 1453, an. reg. 32. Thus was the dutchy of Aquitain lost; which had remained in the possession of the crown of England by the space almost of three hundred years. The right whereof came by the marriage of king Henry II. with Eleanor, daughter to William duke of Aquitain. In this dutchy are four archbishops, twenty-four bishops, fifty earldoms, two hundred and two baronies, and above one thousand captainships and bailiwicks.

For losing war abroad, at home lost peace;
B'ing with our unsupporting selves close pent;
And no designs for pride, (that did increase)
But our own throats, and our own punishment;
The working spirit ceas'd not, though work did cease,
Having fit time to practise discontent,
And stir up such as could not long lie still;
"Who not employ'd to good, must needs do ill."

And now this grief of our received shame,
Gave fit occasion for ambitious care,
To draw the chief reproach of all the same
On such as obvious unto hatred are,
Th' especial men of state: who all the blame
Of whatsoever Fortune doth must bear.
For still in vulgar ears delight it breeds,
To have the hated authors of misdeeds.

And therefore easily great Somerset 20
(Whom Envy long had singled out before)
With all the volley of disgraces met,
As th' only mark that Fortune plac'd therefore:
On whose ill-wrought opinion Spite did whet
The edge of Wrath, to make it pierce the more:
And Grief was glad t' have gotten now on whom
To lay the fault of what must light on some.

Whereon th' again out-breaking York begins
To build new models of his old desire:
And see'ng the booty fortune for him wins,
Upon the ground of this enkindled ire,
He takes th' advantages of others' sins
To aid his own, and help him to aspire.
For doubting peace should better scan deeds past,
He thinks not safe to have his sword out last.

20 York procures the hatred of the people against the duke of Somerset; and so wrought, (in a time of the king's sickness) that he caused him to be arrested in the queen's great chamber, and sent to the tower of London; accusing him to have been the occasion of the loss of France: but the king being recovered, he was again set at liberty, anno reg. 32. The duke of York perceiving his accusations not to prevail against the duke of Somerset, resolves to obtain his purpose by open war: and so being in Wales, accompanied with his special friends, assembled an army, and marched towards London,