HARMANTS

The fool comes gaping, sets up such a throat, Staring so madly, as if foul Cerberus From pitchy Acheron, were come to affright Poor men on earth: or else some accident Of wonder strange, worse then a blazing star, Had made men gaze, I know not what to think: You sent him for me, and I must come straight: I must not stay; my Captain asked him, what The matter was: if the town were on fire: Theres fire in the town, quoth he, quite out Of breath and wit, forgets to move his cap, Cries out on's throat, that it was almost burned With soot and smoke, and dust I know not what: My Captain gave him twelve pence, bade him go And wash his face, he looked so reechilie, Like Bacon hanging on the Chimneys roof; Faring so ghastly, that we both did think, Him worse then mad. I'll tell you, as we crossed the market place, He spies my Father's man, and then from me, He flings as fast, as erst did Hercules, Send that his fastest shafts to Nessus side; When he from him stole Deianira fair For whom he lost his life: I saw my youth, And looked behind, to see what they would do; In at next Taphouse, round as Jugglers box, Went they two first, and then two Soldiers more. 'Twill not belong, I am sure, befort be drowned, Four men four Cans, whats that, but four fair draughts. Hangs the French Ideon at thy tongue's end too Speak two words more, isle make thee Port-enseigne Si ce iemais advient, en ma puissance. Though I meant French, yet will I yield, I lost; Take thou the colours, I bestow them free, In my conceit, as ere did Emperor, I Like thee Sergeant, when thou bringest out pairs Of Verses; one and singles alone is not So good; as when by two and two in ranks, They march in order: then they please mine ears. Yes marry do I, make but one To wipe my mouth, Like to the first, I swear, I'll give thee a pair of good stags leather gloves. You have hit me home with your Rhinoceros Did near make that, that famous learned Knight, Sir Philip Sidney, Scholars, soldiers pride Was his, not yours. Good wits do jump, good witty, witless sir: You hatch those eggs that other birds have laid: I bid you make me one, by your own wit. Beer, what Beer, Scar-Beere? I'll not go thither, I was there too late, Ere I can tell threescore distinctly: say A match; I'll tell them plainly, one by one. I'll tell then, shall I? Seven, eight. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Brother, you have lost. J suis vostre treshumble serviteur. The verse is true, consisting of five feet; The case is plain in common law: no book Can save you: Sergeant thou hast wone; the garters They are thine. Come Sergeant, I must have construction Of Ovid's verses, isle not bore and ace Before you drink, I will not stay so long. That same addition, adds life to the rest, And wipes poor Priscians head, thats foully broke: A pair of pretty youths; Show me but one six pence Pasquill, then I'll say, Thoul't quickly thrive. God bless mine eyes, but Hans what news at home. How fares my Parents, are they both in health? Fill out some Beer mine Host. In this isle please you, but isle drink no more. The question which I prosecute is this, If horse or foot should have pre-eminence: They are needful both, to make and army up: Yet those great Armies which the Tartars used, Were all of horse; so were the Persians Till later times the English Shirleis taught The use of foot, and how to entrench a Camp. What can they do but in such huge, vast plains, As are Tyrauna, and that Cossova So oft made read with Turks & Christians blood, And great Pharsalia famous for the fight Betwixt Pompey and Caesar worthy Warriors both, Both which did strive for Rome's sole Monarchy. On mountains, bogs or woods, or broken rocks: Where are your horse, ore-turnde and swallowed up What can they do against a stand of Pikes, Well linde with shot in such vantageous place. Indeed you touch me now, that history, Makes much for you, that Sophy Ishmael, Did meet the tyrant in the open field, Whose multitudes did think to swallow him With open jaws, Like to a mighty whale: But as and anchor he stuck in his throat; And made him kecke and shrink, to quit himself. This warlike Prince divides his troops in two The right hand battle he himself did lead, The left, his vassal nam Vstan Oghlie, When Turks divided they did do the Like, And so escapte the thundering Ordinance. Unhappy Vstan could not get so clear As did his Master, for the Canon shot Fell amongst his troops, and did him greater harm. This dreadless Prince with valour bravely armed, Falls on amain, with Turkish routs enclosed On every side, and from each side he sends Such fiery balls, as made them know his force. They forward ride, and backwards send their shot On either hand, no place from them was free, He onward flings, amongst the anizars, The chiefest guard that this grand Seigneur hath, And drives them back within their strongest hold, Amongst their packs, and Camels bound with chains, No words, nor blows, nor fairest promises Could make them budge, or move, or stir one foot. The wounded Prince, that fainted bleeding soar, Unable scarce to keep his Coursers back, Perceiving this, with slow pac'te steps retired, And wheelde about, leaving his richest tents Unto their spoils, that durst not stir to see, For three days space, what was become of him. In this I yield, the world's best service known That ever Horsemen did, themselves alone. Nay soft, good Sergeant, what can Horsemen do, Before a town, when we beleaguer it. They'll scale the walls, pass trenches, give assaults, Or enter breaches, yes I warrant you. The more they answer for: When they ride struggling forth for lawless spoil, We keep our works in danger night and day, No spoiled peasant cries on us for's goods, Nor ravished maid, for lost Virginity, Nor wronged wife for forced dishonesty. Why thats Barbarian, and not Christianlike, Where multitude prevails, not discipline, And in such places, as I nam before; As witness are those three days cruel fight Huniades maintained gainst mighty Amurath The second: in Cosso as fatal plains. He kept and hill with thirty thousand men; Ten thousand horse, the rest were all on foot Against the Turks that lay Like Grasshoppers, Filling those plains, eight miles in compass round: This little handful, roulde and turned about, On that hills top in strong and close array, Flamed Like a Candle amongst a world of flies, That burned themselves, ere they could put it out: At length with travel tired, with blows & wounds All rend and torn, choked up with smoke & stench Of bodies dead: match, poulder, bullets spent This light did glimmer, flashed, and so went out Drink't out I pray thee, I will have no more. No, not his health to drink away mine own But drink to Hans, I see by his lips he's dry; He wants it, I do not, heel drink for me, Or to the Sergeant, he can get no drink. Am I your man, God Bacchus, tossepot Knight, Would glass and drink were both beside thy guts; I tell thee, isle no more. More show then service, for our good Dragons, Do wheel about untouched, and gall their sides, Nor do our Pykemen care a straw for them: Those troops are good for execution, To spoil a Kingdom, waste or havoc all: Where no resistance, or at least small head, Or else to run, when as a battles lost, But for a strength, a brave battalion Of Pikes and shot, empald two hundred square, And flanked with carts and packs on either side: Your horsemen may go whistle, where are they, This iron wall is impenetrable. Witness that battle was at Varna fought, A shame to Christians for their breach of truce. His warlike troops, stood firm both horse and foot: Held on his chase, none durst gainst him make head: But when he saw all lost, with watered eyes, True signals of his grief, all safe retired, And watched the Seigneur till he left those bounds. But leaving these to come near to our times, And nearer home, I'll give you one for all. When Henry th'eight of famous memory, Won Bolleigue from the French: near Ardres town A great Commander lighted from his horse, When gainst the English they were to make head, And served on foot, using such friendly speech: You are the men I love, this Like I best; With you isle live and die: Let me ask this; What service ever did the horse alone, In these our Belgic wars, without the foot? Can they endure hunger, thirst or want, Or march in cold, or heat, Like to the foot: Theyle die Like dogs, and you must eat them up; Or theyle eat you. Why whats the matter there? We'll fling him in the graft, T'wil cool him sweetly; o will do him good. Oh monstrous, fie, thy mouth is foully torn, Art not ashamed? Well to him Sergeant, now isle take thy partly Gainst him, as he did thine before gainst me; I'll be revenged for his discourtesy. I marvel much where's Master Flutterkin ? He stays so long I think he hath forgotten himself. My father's yonder, he comes here to meet's. With leave and reverence may I speak my mind; What though my friends be rich? it grieves me much To see poor Soldiers walk in mean attire; And less respect that have deserved well, Grown old in wars, and God nothing but blows, Wide gaping wounds, lost limbs and broken bones, And joust preferment, which another gets, And they deserved, and perhaps a man That never saw the field, nor chimneis smoke; But those at home within his native soil. Each man would up, there's none I am sure would down; And they may use their talents as their own To their own good and glory; not the hurt Of poor or rich, of Kingdoms, Commonwealths; I blame not those that seek to increase their wealth, Or better their estates by honest means; I wrong not Princes, touch not their affairs. Carp not at men, but times corruptions; Some climb too fast, and climbing catch a fallen; If please God he can help it, he helps all. Why? now I know, Thou art not tong-tyde Sergeant, else I thought It had been pawndith Lombard for two doits: I'll buy a Calves tongue for four, thats good meat For them that love it. What sayest, thou speakest Hebrew, Greek, Or English, Welsh, I know not what thou meanest. I will. Without and oath I will. Thats Latin Sergeant, wiseman, thats not French. Transformde, thou wouldst say. I think the Sergeant is grown Mountebank To cling by shifts, heigh pass, pass, Italian grown; a sharking Charlatan. Upon condition I will be content, So he will make me but one true French verse. Thirty. Fifty. Why then farewell, I care not I for Beer, My Captain gave me some Canary wine: The Churl he shall not ride the Gentleman. I will go with thee, do but promise me, Rightly to construe those lines of Ovid's, Which thou readest but now. Mine Host, what all alone? And market day, why this is wondrous strange. How now mine Host? Pray thee quick, dispatch, I have some business calls me soon from hence. I know not truly, but I love to learn, Yes, there's none can mend it. Not so. Mistake me not, but isle not yield them chief, Each body well composed, it does consist Of diverse members, framed by art, yet natural; The body where are lodged the chiefest parts, I liken it unto the Infantry; The exterior parts to the Cavalry. The heart commands, the members execute; So they to us, not we to them give way. The Cardinal Julian mooude this luckless War, Causing the King and States of Hungary To break their truce; which they had solemn sworn; The Pope dispensed with them, so would not God, If he be witness: he wills faith be kept Without exception, be it with Infidels, As this was here; the sequel proud it true, In manner thus: Huniades that mannadgde all, Dislikte this war: yet Ladislaus This youthful King, eggde on by Julian, Would needs break faith with mighty Amurath, And near to Varna both their armies met, Where he so placed his battles as a Lake, Flanked the left side; a wood was on the rear: And on the right hand all their wagons went: Had they kept so, Byzantium had been ours: And Greece once more it had been Christendom; The battles joined, and after furious charge, The Turks turned back, Like birds with scarlions scarde; So dreadful were those well known colours which Huniades did bear: he gives them chase, Heeds not the meaner troops; but at hard heals, Follows the fearful Amurath : mean while The warlike Priest, more happy at his book Does quit his strength, falls on, thinks all is won, Some chase the Turks, while others seek for prey, And spoil their tents: they rued this greediness. This when the Turks perceyude, they soon rallide, And chaced them now, by whom they erst were chac'de. Here die the periurde King, the luckless Priest Falls in a ditch, and there was choked with mud. Why? how now Sergeant, do you call me calf? Gainst him and you, but give me leave to speak, I'll show my reasons what I think are fit. They quit their horse, and made them as a wall For their defence, and fought it out on foot, Almost to the last man, some few escapte; And swam the river, God into a wood Among the which, Huniades was one The half Beatrice conquering Turks had all enough, Stood still and gazed, and glad to see him gone. What time, a bargain wisely made's half wone. One, two, three, four. So proud, he mourned: was sick with grief and hate, Of this his Conquest, at so deer a rate.