Whose heapes had well neere stopt vp eu’ry way;
For eu’n as Clods they cou’red all the soyle,
Commanding none should any one controle,
Catch that catch might, but each man to his dole.
They fall to groping busily for gold,
Of which about them the slaine French had store,
They finde as much as well their hands can hold,
Who had but siluer, him they counted poore,
Scarfes, Chaines, and Bracelets, were not to be told,
So rich as these no Souldiers were before;