Bowns, bowns, bowns! that all they out cryde;
It made sum lympe legged and broisid there bones;
Sum were made peuysshe, porisshly pynk iyde,
That euer more after by it they were aspyid;
And one ther was there, I wondred of his hap,
For a gun stone, I say, had all to-iaggid[1626] his cap,
Raggid, and daggid, and cunnyngly cut; 630
The blaste of the byrnston[1627] blew away his brayne;
Masid as a marche hare, he ran lyke a scut;
And, sir, amonge all me thought I saw twaine,