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Sidonia, Recalde, and Leyva

Watch from their bulwarks in swarthy scorn: Lords and princes by Philip's favor:

We by birthright are nobly born!
Freemen born of the blood of freemen,

Sons of Cressy and Flodden are we:
We shall sunder them, fire and plunder them,
English boats on the English sea !

And our oath we swear

By the name we bear, By England's Queen, and England free and fair, Hers ever and hers still, come life, come death :

God save Elizabeth !

Drake and Frobisher, Hawkins and Howard,

Raleigh, Cavendish, Cecil, and Brooke, Hang like wasps by the flagships towered,

Sting their way through the thrice-piled oak:
Let them range their seven-mile crescent,

Giant galleons, canvas wide!
Ours will harry them, board and carry them,
Plucking the plumes of the Spanish pride;

For our oath we swear

By the name we bear, By England's Queen, and England free and fair, Hers ever and hers still, come life, come death :

God save Elizabeth !

Has God risen in wrath and scattered,

Have his tempests smote them in scorn ?

Past the Orcades, dumb and tattered,

’Mong sea-beasts do they drift forlorn ? We were as lions hungry for battle:

God has made our battle his own!
God has scattered them, sunk and shattered them :
Give the glory to him alone!

While our oath we swear

By the name we bear,
By England's Queen and England free and fair,
Hers ever and hers still, come life, come death :

God save Elizabeth !



My Loving PEOPLE: – We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you, I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people.

Let tyrants fear! I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good will of my subjects, and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live or die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, for my kingdoms, and for my people, my honor and my blood, even in the dust.

I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king; and of a king of England, too; and think foul scorn that Parma, or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which, rather than any dishonor should grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field.

I know already for your forwardness you have deserved rewards and crowns; and we do assure you, in the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime, my lieutenant-general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your obedience to my general, by your conduct in the camp, and by your valor in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people.



ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, — summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard favored rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brass cannon.
Let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a gallèd rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To its full height ! - On, on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonor not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call fathers did beget you !
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war; and you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs are made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture: let us swear
That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not:
For there is none of you so mean and base
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes :
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's a-foot ;
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge,
Cry, “God for Harry, England, and St. George !”


Michael DRAYTON.

FAIR 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 Kaux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,

Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,
Furnished in warlike sort,
Marched towards Agincourt

In happy hour;
Skirmishing day by day
With those that stopped his way,
Where the French general lay

With all his power.

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

To the King sending:
Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile,
Yet, with an angry smile,

Their fall portending.

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