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Deaths great and generall Challenge.
I do defie the World and all therein,My challenge at the Scepter doth begin:
Downe to the Plough Swaine, come who dare in place,
Set foote to mine, and looke me in the face.
My flesh and sat, doth make no burlie show,
A raw-bone fellow, all the World doth know.
To deale at sundry Weapons, J refuse,
As Fencers (when they play their prizes) vse:
Of Sword and Dagger I haue little skill:
Rapier I neuer wore, nor neuer will.
My sight is very bad to haue about,
For Ile assure you both waine Eyes be out:
But at the Irish Dart J onely deale:
Whose Hart I hit, I nere knew Surgeon heale.
My Horse is pale, well pac'd; I neuer shoo-him,
Sainct Georges Gelding was a made vnto-him,
I would ride often, when I goe on foote,
But there's no Shoo-maker can fit me' a Boote.
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