Const. Tut I haue the best armour in the world.
Orleance. You haue an excellent armour,
But let my horse haue his due.
Burbon. Now you talke of a horse, I haue a steed like the
Palfrey of the sun, nothing but pure ayre and fire,5
And hath none of this dull element of earth within him.
Orleance. He is of the colour of the Nutmeg.
Bur. And of the heate, a the Ginger.[5512]
Turne all the sands into eloquent tongues,
And my horse is argument for them all:10
I once writ a Sonnet in the praise of my horse,[5513]
And began thus. Wonder of nature.
Con. I haue heard a Sonnet begin so,
In the praise of ones Mistresse.
Burb. Why then did they immitate that15
Which I writ in praise of my horse,
For my horse is my mistresse.
Con. Ma foy the other day, me thought
Your mistresse shooke you shrewdly.
Bur. I bearing me. I tell thee Lord Constable,20
My mistresse weares her owne haire.
Con. I could make as good a boast of that,
If I had had a sow to my mistresse.[5514]