Seest thou how gaily my young master goes, Vaunting himself upon his rising toes; And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side; And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide? 'Tis Ruffio: Trow'st thou where he dined to-day? In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humfray. Many good welcomes, and much gratis cheer, Keeps he for every straggling cavalier. An open house, haunted with great resort; Long service mixed with musical disport. Many fair younker with a feathered crest, Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest, To fare so freely with so little cost, Than stake his twelve-pence to a meaner host. Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say He touched no meat of all this live-long day. For sure methought, yet that was but a guess, His eyes seem sunk for very hollowness, But could he have (as I did it mistake) So little in his purse, so much upon his back? So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt, That his gaunt gut not too much stuffing felt. Seest thou how side it hangs beneath his hip? Hunger and heavy iron makes girdles slip. Yet for all that, how stiffly struts he by, All trappéd in the new-found bravery. The nuns of new-won Cales his bonnet lent, In lieu of their so kind a conquerment. What needed he fetch that from farthest Spain, His grandam could have lent with lesser pain? Tho' he perhaps ne'er passed the English shore, Yet fain would counted be a conqueror. His hair, French-like, stares on his frightened head, One lock amazon-like dishevelléd, As if he meant to wear a native cord, If chance his fates should him that bane afford. All British bare upon the bristled skin, Close notchéd is his beard both lip and chin; His linen collar labyrinthian set, Whose thousand double turnings never met: His sleeves half hid with elbow pinionings, As if he meant to fly with linen wings. But when I look, and cast mine eyes below, What monster meets mine eyes in human show? So slender waist with such an abbot's loin, Did never sober nature sure conjoin. Lik'st a strawn scare-crow in the new-sown field, Reared on some stick, the tender corn to shield. Or if that semblance suit not every dale, Like a broad shake-fork with a slender steel Despiséd nature suit them once aright, Their body to their coat, both now misdight. Their body to their clothes might shapen be, That nil their clothés shape to their body. Meanwhile I wonder at so proud a back, Whilst, the empty guts loud rumbling for long lack, The belly envieth the back's bright glee, And murmurs at such inequality. The back appears unto the partial eyne, The plaintive belly pleads they bribed been; And he, for want of better advocate, Doth to the ear his injury relate. The back, insulting o'er the belly's need, Says, thou thyself, I others' eyes must feed. The maw, the guts, all inward parts complain