Sirs, see that my harnesse, my tergat, and my shield,
Be made as bright now, as when I was last in fielde,
As white as I shoulde to warre againe to morrowe:
For sicke shall I be, but I worke some folke sorow.
Therfore see that all shine as bright as sainct George,
Or as doth a key newly come from the Smiths forge.
I woulde haue my sworde and harnesse to shine so bright,
That I might therwith dimme mine enimies sight,
I would haue it cast beames as fast I tell you playne,
As doth the glittryng grasse after a showre of raine.