"The many states of Christendom reduced to a Winchester and Ely, with the earls of Salisbury and

Who with words mildly-sharp, gently-severe,
Wrought on those wounds that must be touch'd with
Applying rather salves of hope than fear, [heed:
Lest corrosives should desp'rate mischiefs breed.
"And what, my lord," said they "should move you
In this unseemly manner to proceed? [here,
Whose worth b'ing such as all the land admires,
Hath fairer ways than these to your desires.

"Will you, whose means, whose many friends, whose
Can work the world in peace unto your will, [grace
Take such a course as shall your blood deface,
And make (by handling bad) a good cause ill?
How many hearts hazard you in this case,
That in all quiet plots would aid you still?
Having in court a party far more strong
Than you conceive, press'd to redress your wrong.

"Fie!, fie! forsake this hateful course, my lord;
Down with these arms, that will but wound your

cause.

What peace may do, hazard not with the sword:
Lay down the force that from your force withdraws;
And yield and we will mediate such accord,
As shall dispense with rigour and the laws;
And interpose this solemn faith of our
Betwixt your fault and the offended pow'r."

Which engines of protests, and proffers kind,
Urg'd out of seeming grief and shows of love,
So shook the whole foundation 10 of his mind,
As they did all his resolution move;
And present seem'd unto their course inclin'd,
So that the king would Somerset11 remove;
The man, whose most intolerable pride
Trod down his worth, and all good men's beside.

Which they there vow'd should presently be done.
For what will not peace-lovers willing grant,
Where dangerous events depend thereon,
And men unfurnish'd, and the state in want?
And if with words the conquest will be won,
The cost is small: and who holds breath so scant,
As then to spare, though with indignity?
"Better descend, than end in majesty."

And hereupon the duke dissolves his force,
Submits him to the king on public vow;
The rather too presuming on this course,
For that his son, the earl of March, was now
With mightier pow'rs abroad; which would enforce
His peace; which else the king would not allow.
For seeing not all of him in him he hath,
His death would but give life to greater wrath.

Yet coming to the king, in former place
(His foe) the duke of Somerset he finds;
Whom openly reproaching to his face,
He charg'd with treason in the highest kinds.
The duke returns like speeches of disgrace;
And fi'ry words bewray'd their flaming minds:

10 And finding the Kentish men not to answer his expectation, and the king's forces far more than his; he willingly condescends to conditions of peace.

11 Edmund duke of Somerset, of the house of Lancaster, descended from John of Gaunt, was the especial man against whom he pretended his quarrel.

[far

But yet the trial was for them deferr'd, -
Till fitter time allow'd it to be heard.
At Westminster a council summoned,
Deliberates what course the cause should end
Of th' apprehended duke of York; whose bead
Doth now on others' doubtful breath depend.
Law fiercely urg'd his act, and found him dead:
Friends fail'd to speak, where they could not defend:
Only the king himself for mercy stood;
As prodigal of life, niggard of blood.
And as if angry with the laws of death,
"Ah! why should you," said he," urge things s
You, that inur'd with mercenary breath,
And hired tongue, so peremptory are;
Braving on him whom sorrow prostrateth:
As if you did with poor affliction war,
And prey on frailty folly hath betray'd:
Bringing the laws to wound, never to aid.
"Dispense sometime with stern severity;
Make not the laws still traps to apprehend:
Win grace upon the bad with clemency;
Mercy may mend, whom malice made offend.
Death gives no thanks, but checks authority;
And life doth only majesty commend.
Revenge dies not; rigour begets new wrath:
And blood hath never glory; mercy hath.
"And for my part, (and my part should be chie
I am most willing to restore his state;
And rather had I win him with relief,
Than lose him with despite, and get more bate.
Pity draws love: bloodshed is Nature's grief:
Compassion follows the unfortunate:

And losing him, in him I lose my pow'r.
We rule who live-the dead are none of our.

"And should our rigour lessen then the same,
Which we with greater glory should retain ?
No; let him live-his life must give us fame;
The child of mercy newly born again.
As often burials are physicians' shame;
So many deaths argue a king's hard reign.
Why should we say, the law must have her vigour
The law kills him; but quits not us of rigour?

"You, to get more preferment by your wit,
Others to gain the spoils of misery,
Labour with all your pow'r to follow it;
Showing us fears, to draw on cruelty.
You urge th' offence, not tell us what is fit;
Abusing wrong-informed majesty;
As if our pow'r were only but to slay;
And that to save were a most dang'rous way."

Thus out of pity spake that holy king;
Whom mild affections led to hope the best:
When Somerset began to urge the thing
With words of hotter temper, thus express'd:
"Dear sov'reign lord, the cause in managing
Is more than yours: 't imports the public rest.
We all have part; it toucheth all our good:
And life's ill spar'd, that's spar'd to cost more blo
"Compassion here is cruelty, my lord:
O Pity will cut our throats, for saving so.
What benefit enjoy we by the sword,
If mischief shall escape to draw on mo? ན ཀློག
Why should we give what law cannot afford;
To b' accessaries to our proper wo?

THE HISTORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. BOOK VI.

Visdom must judge 'twixt men apt to amend, nd minds incurable, born to offend.

It is no private cause, I do protest, hat moves me thus to prosecute this deed: Would God his blood and mine had well releas'd he dangers that his pride is like to breed. ithough at me he seems to have address'd is spite; 't is not the end he hath decreed. am not he alone he doth pursue; ut thorough me, he means to shoot at you. For thus these great reformers of a state, spiring to attain the government, cill take advantage of the people's hate, Whoever hate such as are eminent. For who can great affairs negotiate, nd all a wayward multitude content?) nd then these people-minions, they must fall o 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.

is the man, whose race would seem to stand efore 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, Fou had not now sat to adjudge his deed.

If oftentimes the person, not th' offence, ave been sufficient cause of death to some, here public safety puts in evidence f mischief, likely by their life to come; hall he, whose fortune and his insolence ave both deserv'd to die, escape that doom; When you shall save your land, your crown thereby; nd since you cannot live, unless he die?" Thus spake th' aggrieved duke, that gravely saw h' incompatible pow'rs of princes' minds; nd what affliction his escape might draw nto the state, and people of all kinds : nd yet the humble yielding, and the awe Which York " there show'd, so good opinion finds, hat (with the rumour of his son's great strength, nd French affairs) he there came quit at length.

12

[might

or ev'n the fear t' exasperate the heat -f th' earl of March, whose forward youth and Well tollow'd, seem'd a proud revenge to threat, any shame should on his father light; nd then desire in Gascoign to reget he glory lost, which home-broils hinder might, dvantaged the duke, and sav'd his head, Which questionless had else been hazarded.

or now had Bourdeaux 13 offer'd (upon aid) resent revolt, if we would send with speed: Which fair advantage to have then delay'd pon such hopes, had been a shameful deed. nd therefore this all other courses stay'd, nd outwardly these inward hates agreed,

499

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.
Saccours from far come seldom to our mind:
"For who holds league with Neptune and the wind?”

Yet worthy Talbot "5, thou did'st 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;
And such ado to win when they had won.
So much it cost to spoil who were undone,

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;
So held his hold this lord, whilst he held breath;
As if his death were sweet, in dying so:
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

12 The duke was suffered to go to his castle at Wig-means, in times past, for the conquering of France.

more.

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

son, sir John Talbot, lord Lisle by the right of his 15 The earl of Shrewsbury, accompanied with 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.

[sight,

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.
"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.

"Which day must either thrust us out of all,
Or all with greater glory back restore.
This day your valiant worth adventure shall,
For what our land shall never fight for more:
If now we fail, with us is like to fall
All that renown which we have got before.
This is the last-If we discharge the same,
The same shall last to our eternal fame.

"Never had worthy men for any fact
A more fair, glorious theatre than we;
Whereon true magnanimity might act
Brave deeds, which better witnessed could be.
For lo! from yonder turrets yet unsack'd,
Your valiant fellows stand, your worth to see;
T'avouch your valour, if you live to gain;
And if we die, that we dy'd not in vain.

"And ev❜n our foes (whose proud and pow'rful might
Would seem to swallow up our dignity)
Shall not keep back the glory of our right;
Which their confounded blood shall testify:.
For in their wounds our gory swords shall write
The monuments of our eternity.
For vile is honour, and a title vain,

The which true worth and danger do not gain.

"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 us 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 kill-
Near to their hate, close to their work they stood
| Hit where they would, their hand obeys their wille
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 fors)
Made France most happy, that there were no mor
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 go

For as with equal rage, and equal might,
Two adverse winds combat, with billows proud,
And neither yield: (seas, skies maintain like figh
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 be

In midst of wrath, of wounds, of blood, and dest.
There is he most, where as he may do best;
And there the closest ranks he severeth,

His death small fame, his flight no shame could gain. Drives back the stoutest pow'rs that forward press

There makes his sword his way-There laboureth
Th' infatigable hand that never ceas'd;

16 The lord Lisle was advised by his father to re- Scorning unto his mortal wounds to yield,

tire him out of the battle.

Till Death became best master of the field.