Some tell of byrdes which flie in th’ayre,
Some tell of beastes on land which raunge,
Some tell of fishe in riuers fayre,
Some tell of serpentes sundry sortes,
Some tell of plantes the full effect,
Of English dogges I sound reportes,
Their names and natures I detect,
My forhed is but baulde and bare:
But yet my body’s beutifull,
For pleasaunt flowres in me there are,