Then spake the noble Duke of _York_, O noble King, quoth he, The Leading of this Battle brave, It doth belong to me.
God-a-mercy Cousin _York_, he said, I grant thee thy Request; Then lead thou on couragiously, And I will lead the rest.
Then came the bragging _Frenchmen_ down, With cruel Force and Might; With whom our Noble King began, A fierce and dreadful Fight.
The Archers they discharg'd their Shafts, As thick as Hail from Skie; And many a _Frenchman_ in the Field, That happy Day did die.
Their Horses tumbled on the Stakes, And so their Lives they lost; And many a _Frenchman_ there was ta'en, As Prisoners to their cost.
Ten Thousand Men that Day was slain, As Enemies in the Field: And eke as many Prisoners, Were forc'd that Day to yield.
Thus had our King a happy Day, And Victory over _France_; And brought them quickly under foot That late in Pride did prance.
God save our King, and bless this Land, And grant to him likewise; The upper-hand and Victory, Of all his Enemies.
_The Lady_ ISABELLA'S _Tragedy: Or, the Step-Mother's Cruelty._ _To the foregoing Tune._
There was a Lord of worthy Fame, And a Hunting he would ride, Attended by a noble Train, Of Gentry on each side.
And whilst he did in Chace remain, To see both Sport and Play; His Lady went as she did feign, Unto the Church to pray.
This Lord he had a Daughter Fair, Whose Beauty shin'd so bright; She was belov'd both far and near, Of many a Lord and Knight.
Fair _Isabella_ was she call'd, A Creature Fair was she; She was her Father's only Joy, As you shall after see.
But yet her Cruel Step-Mother, Did Envy her so much; That Day by Day she sought her Life, Her Malice it was such.
She bargain'd with the Master-Cook, To take her Life away; And taking of her Daughter's Book, She thus to her did say.
Go home, sweet Daughter, I thee pray. Go hasten presently; And tell unto the Master-Cook, These Words which I tell thee.
And bid him dress to Dinner straight, That fair and milk-white Doe; That in the Park doth shine so bright, There's none so fair to show.
This Lady fearing of no harm, Obey'd her Mother's Will; And presently she hasted home, Her Mind for to fulfil.
She straight into the Kitchin went, Her Message for to tell, And there the Master-Cook she spy'd, Who did with Malice swell.