My lord, I doe confesse at the first newes Of your returne towards home, I did refuse To visit you, for feare the northerne winde Had peirc’t into your manners and your minde; For feare you might want memory to forget Some arts of Scotland which might haunt you yet. But when I knew you were, and when I heard You were at Woodstock seene, well sunn’d and air’d, That your contagion in you now was spent, And you were just lord Mordant, as you went, I then resolv’d to come; and did not doubt To be in season, though the bucke were out. Windsor the place; the day was Holy roode; Saint George my muse: for be it understood, For all Saint George more early in the yeare Broke fast and eat a bitt, hee dined here: And though in Aprill in redd inke he shine, Know twas September made him redd with wine. To this good sport rod I, as being allow’d To see the king, and cry him in the crowd; And at all solemne meetings have the grace To thrust, and to be trodde on, by my place. Where when I came, I saw the church besett With tumults, as if all the Brethren mett To heare some silenc’t teacher of that quarter Inveigh against the order of the garter: And justly might the weake it grieve and wrong, Because the garter prayes in a strange tongue; And doth retaine traditions yet, of Fraunce, In an old _Honi soit qui mal y pense_. Whence learne, you knights that order that have t’ane, That all, besides the buckle, is profane. But there was noe such doctrine now at stake, Noe starv’d precisian from the pulpit spake: And yet the church was full; all sorts of men, Religions, sexes, ages, were there then: Whilst he that keepes the quire together locks Papists and Puritans, the Pope and Knox: Which made some wise-ones feare, that love our nation, This mixture would beget a toleration; Or that religions should united bee, When they stay’d service, these the letany. But noe such hast; this dayes devotion lyes Not in the hearts of men, but in their eyes; They that doe see St. George, heare him aright; For hee loves not to parly, but to fight. Amongst this audience (my lord) stood I, Well edified as any that stood by; And knew how many leggs a knight letts fall, Betwixt the king, the offering, and his stall: Aske mee but of their robes, I shall relate The colour and the fashion, and the state: I saw too the procession without doore, What the poore knightes, and what the prebends wore. All this my neighbors that stood by mee tooke, Who div’d but to the garment, and the looke; But I saw more, and though I have their fate In face and favour, yet I want their pate: Mee thought I then did those first ages know, Which brought forth knightes soo arm’d and looking soe, Who would maintaine their oath, and bind their worde