A new Ballad, intituled, The Battell of Agen-Court, in France, betweene the
English-men and Frenchmen.
To the tune of, When flying Fame.
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A Counsell grave our King did hold,
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with many a Lord and Knight,
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That he might truely understand,
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that France did hold his right.
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Unto the King of France therefore,
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Imbassadors he sent.
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That he might truely understand,
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his minde, and whole intent:
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Desiring him in friendly sort,
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his lawfull Right to yeelde:
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Or else, he swore by Dent of Sword,
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to winne the fame in Fielde.
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The King of France with all his Lords,
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which heard his message plaine,
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Unto our brave Imbassador,
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did answere in disdaine:
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And said, our King was yet too young,
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and of too tender age,
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Therefore we weigh not of his warres,
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nor feare not his courage.
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His knowledge is, in feats of Armes,
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as yet, but very small:
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His tender Joynts more fitter were,
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to tosse a Tenis ball.
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A Tun of Tenis balles therefore,
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in pride and great disdaine,
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He sent unto our noble King,
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to recompence his paine.
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Which answere, when our King did heare,
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he waxed wrath in heart,
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He said, he would such balles provide,
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should make all Fraunce to smart.
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And armie then our King did hold,
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which was both good and strong.
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And from South-hampton is our King,
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with all his Navie gone.
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In France he landed safe and sound,
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with all his warlike traine,
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Unto the towne of Hurslew next,
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he marched up amaine.
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But when he had besieg'd the same,
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against their fenced walles,
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To batter downe their stately Towres,
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he sent his English balles.
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This done, our Noble King,
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marcht up and downe the land.
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And not a French man for his life,
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durst once his Force withstand.
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The second part, Of the battell at Agen-Court.
To the tune of, When Flying Fame.
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UNtill he came to Agen Court,
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where as it was his chance,
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To finde the King in readinesse,
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with all his power of France.
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A mightie Hoste he had prepar'd,
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of armed Souldiers then:
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Which was no lesse, by just account,
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then fortie thousand men.
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Which sight did much amase our King:
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for hee in all his Hoste,
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Not passing fyfteene thousand had,
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accounted with the most.
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The king of France, which well did know,
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the number of our men,
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In vaunting pride unto our Prince,
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did send a Harrold then,
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To understand what he would give,
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for Ransome of his life,
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When they in Field had taken him,
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amidst that bloudy strife.
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But then our King with cheerefull heart,
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this answere them did make,
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And said, before this comes to passe,
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some of your hearts shall shake.
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And to your proud presumptious Prince,
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declare this thing (quoth hee)
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Mine owne heart bloud shall pay the price,
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none else he gets of mee.
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With that bespake the Duke of Yorke,
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O Noble King, quoth hee,
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The leading of this Battell brave,
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vouchsafe to give it me.
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Godamarcie Cousin Yorke, quoth hee,
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I grant thee thy request,
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Then martch thou on coragiously,
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and Wee will lead the rest.
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Then came the bragging French men downe,
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with their cruell force and might:
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With whom our Noble King begun,
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a hard and cruell fight.
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The Archers they discharg'd their shafts,
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so thicke as haile from Skie,
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That many a French-man in the Field
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that happie day did dye.
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The Horse-men tumbled on the Stakes,
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and so their lives they lost:
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And many a French man there was taken,
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for prisoners to their cost.
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Ten thousand men that day was slaine,
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of Enemies in the Field,
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And eke as many prisoners,
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that day was forst to yeeld.
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Thus had our King a happie day,
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and victory over France,
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And brought them quickly under foote,
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that late in pride did prance.
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The Lord preserve our Noble King,
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and grant to him likewise,
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The upper hand, and victorie,
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of all his Enemies.
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