When as their boyling bosomes in the fight,
Felt not the sharpe steele thorough them to slide:
But these now in a miserable plight,
Must in cold blood this massacre abide,
Caus’d by those Villaines (curst aliue and dead,)
That from the field the passed morning fled.
When as the King to Crowne this glorious day,
Now bids his Souldiers after all this toyle,
(No forces found that more might them dismay)
Of the dead French to take the gen’rall spoyle,