Gainst them whom Fortune miserably thwarts:
Disabled quite before the Foe to stand,
But fall like grasse before the Mowers hand.
The Earle of Vandome slaine.
That this French Earle is beaten on the Field,
His fighting Souldiers round about him slaine;
And when himselfe a Prisoner he would yeeld,
And beg’d for life, it was but all in vaine;
Their Bills the English doe so easely weeld
To kill the French, as though it were no paine;