MICHAEL DRAYTON

//p. slgmcourt

"CAIR stood the wind for France

• When we our sails advance,

Nor now to prove our chance

Longer will tarry ; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train

Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort, Furnish'd in warlike sort, Marcheth tow'rds Agincourt

In happy hour ; Skirmishing day by day With those that stopp'd his way, Where the French gen'ral lay

With all his power.

Which, in his height of pride, King Henry to deride, His ransom to provide

Unto him sending ; Which he neglects the while As from a nation vile, Yet with an angry smile

Their fall portending.

And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then, 4 Though they to one be ten Be not amazed :

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