And wondren at bright Argus' blazing eye;
But who rewards him e'er the more forthy,
Or feeds him once the fuller by a grain?
Such praise is smoke, that sheddeth in the sky;
Such words be wind, and wasten soon in vain.
PIERS. Abandon then the base and viler clown;
Lift up thyself out of the lowly dust,
And sing of bloody Mars, of wars, of giusts;
Turn thee to those that wield the awful crown,
To doubted knights, whose woundless armour rusts,