As ye ar brystlyd on the bake for alle your gay gere.
[But sey me yet, Syr Satrapas, what auctoryte ye haue
In your chalenge, Syr Chesten, to calle me a knaue?]
Your wynde schakyn shankkes, your longe lothy legges,
Crokyd as a camoke, and as a kowe calfles, 30
Bryngges yow out of fauyr with alle femall teggys:
That mastres Punt put yow of, yt was nat alle causeles;
At Orwelle hyr hauyn your anggre was laules.
[But sey me yet, Syr Satrapas, what auctoryte ye haue
In your chalenge, Syr Chesten, to calle me a knaue?]