When they had their oatles made, forth can they •he' 130
With failes, and harnisse, and trumps made of tre :
There were all the bachelers of that countre ;
They were dight in aray, as themselves would be ;
Their banner was full bright,

Of an old rotten fell,

The cheefe was a plo.vmell, And the shadow of a bell, quartered with the moone-light.

135

I wot it was no childrens game, when they togither mette,
When ilka freke in the field on his fellow bette,
And layd on ftifly, for nothing would they lette, 140
And fought ferly fast, till theire'horsęs swette ;
And few wordes were spoken;

There were failes all to slatterd,

There were shields all to clatterd, Bowles and dishes all to batterd, and many heads broken.

There was clenking of cart-saddles, and clattering of cannes,

146 Of fell frekes in the field, broken were their fannes ; Of some were the heads broken, of some the brzine-pannes, And evill were they besené, ere they went thance, With swipping of swipples :

150 The ladds were so weary for fought,

That they might fight no more on-loft, But creeped about in the croft, as they were crooked cripples. C 3

Perkin

Pet. 130. te. P.C. 7.141. chcre, P.C, V. 345. heads there were:

Perlin vas fo weary, that he beganne to lowte,
Help, Hudde, I am dead in this ilk rowte:

155
An horse for forty pennys, a good and a ftowte ;
That I may lightly come of mine owne owțe ;

For no cost will I spare.

He starte up as a snaile,
And hent a capull by the taile, .

160 And raught of Daukin his Alayle, and wanne him a mare.

Perkin wan five, and Hudde wan twa :
Glad and blithe they were, that they · had! done sa:
They would have them to Tibbe, and present her with tha;
The capuls were so weary, that they might not ga, 165

But still can they • stonde.'

Alas ! quoth Hudde, my joy I leese

Mee had lever then a stone of checse,
That deare Tibbe had all these, and wist it were my sonde,

Perkin turned him about in the ilk throng,

170.
He fought freshly, for he had reft him long;
He was ware of Tirry take Tibbe by the hond,
And would have led her away with a love-song;

And Perkin after ran,

And off his capull he him drowe, 175

And gave him of his ftayle inowe;
Then te, he! quoth Tibbe, and lowe, ye are a doughty man.

Thus

Ver, 164, would not

P. C.

Ver, 156. Nand. P. C.

Thus they tugged, and they rugged, till it was nigh night:
All the wives of Tottenham come to see that fight;
To fetch hom their husbands, that were them trough
plight,

180 With wispes and kixes, that was a rich fight; Her husbands home to ferch.

And some they had in armes,

That were feeble wretches, And some on wheel-barrowes, and some on critches. 185

They gatherd Perkin about on every side,
And

grant him there the gree, the more was his pride :
Tib and hee, with great mirth, hameward can ride,
And were all night togither, till the morrow tide;
And to church they went :

190 So'well his needs he has sped,

That deare Tibbe he shall wed; The cheefemen that her hither lead, were of the turnament.

To the rich feast come many for the nonce: Some come hop-halte, and some tripping thither on the ftones ;

195 Some with a staffe in his hand, and some two at once ; Of some were the heads broken; of fome the shoulderbones; With forrow come they thither :

Wo was Hawkin; wo was Harry:

Wo'was Tymkin ; wo was Tirry; 200 And so was all the company, but yet they come togither,

At that feafi were they served in rich aray;
Every five and five had a cokeney;
And so they fat in jollity all the long day:
Tibbe at night, I trowe, had a simple aray;
Mickle mirth was them

among:
In every corner of the house

Was melody delicious,
For to hear precious of fix mens song,

205

V.

FOR THE VICTORY AT AGINCOURT,

That our plain and martial ancestors could wield their frords much better than their pens will appear from the following homely Rhymes, which were drawn up by some poet laureat of thole days to celebrate the immortal victory gained at Agincourt, Oa. 25, 1415: This song or hymn is given meerły as a curiosity, and is printed from a MS copy in the Pepys collection, vol. 1. folio. It is there accompanied with the musical notes, which are copied in a small plate at the end of this volume.

O O Wich grace and my zate of chivalry

Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria !
WRE kynge went forth to Normandy,
With
grace

and
myzt

of chivalry ;
The God for hym wrouzt marvelously,
Wherfore Englonde may calle, and cry.

Deo gratias :
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro vittoria.

5

He

He sette a lege, the sothe for to say,
To Harfiu toune with ryal aray;
That toune he wan, and made a fray,
That Fraunce thali rywe tyl domes day.

Deo gratias, &c.

10

Then went owre kynge, with alle his ofte,
Thorowe Fraunce for all the Frenshe boste ;
He spared no drede of leste, ne moft,
Tyl he come to Agincourt colte.

Deo gratias, &c.

1S

Than for fothe that knyzt comely
In Agincourt feld he fauzt manly,
Thorow grace

of God most myzty
He had bothe the felde, and the victory.

Deo gratias, &c.

20

Ther dukys, and erlys, lorde and barone,
Were take, and flayne, and that wel fone,
And some were ledde in to Lundone
With joye, and merthe, and grete renone.

Deo gratias, &c.

25.

39

Now gracious God he save owrę kynge,
His peple, and all his wel wyllynge,
Gef hym gode lyfe, and gode endynge,
That we with merth mowe favely synge,

Deo gratias :
Deo gratias Anglia redde fro-witorią.