Hearts will ake.

And to your proud presumptuous King,
Declare this thing, quoth he;
My own Heart's-blood will pay the Price,
Nought else he gets of me.

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.