I have a horse—a ryghte goode horse— Ne doe I envye those
Who scoure ye playne yn headye course Tyll soddayne on theyre nose
They lyghte wyth unexpected force— Yt ys—a horse of clothes.
I have a saddel—"Say'st thou soe? Wyth styrruppes, Knyghte, to boote?"
I sayde not that—I answere "Noe"— Yt lacketh such, I woote:
Yt ys a mutton-saddel, loe! Parte of ye fleecye brute.
I have a bytte—a ryghte good bytte— As shall bee scene yn tyme.
Ye jawe of horse yt wyll not fytte; Yts use ys more sublyme.
Fayre Syr, how deemest thou of yt? Yt ys—thys bytte of rhyme.
