Hung at his backe, and for the Turnament
His Helmet is a Brasse Pott, and his Flagge
A Cookes foule Apron, which the wind doth wagg,
Fixd to a Broome, thus bravely he did ride,
And boldly to his foe, he thus replyde.
What art thou, thou leane jawde Annatamie
All spirit (for I no flesh upon thee spie)
Thou bragging peece of ayre and smoake that prat'st,
And all good fellowship and friendship hat'st.
You'le turne our feasts to fasts, when, can you tell