48283What recketh he his riders angrie
sturre,
284His
flattering holla, or his
stand, I
say,
285What cares he now, for curbe, or pricking
spurre,
286For rich capari
sons, or trappings gay:
287 He
sees his loue, and nothing el
se he
sees,
288 For nothing el
se with his proud
sight agrees.
49289Looke when a Painter would
surpa
sse the life,
290In limming out a well proportioned
steed,
291His Art with Natures workman
ship at
strife,
292As if the dead the liuing
should exceed:
293 So did this Hor
se excell a common one,
294 In
shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.
50295Round hooft,
short ioynted, fetlocks
shag, and long,
296Broad brea
st, full eye,
small head, and no
strill wide,
297High cre
st,
short eares,
straight legs, & pa
ssing
strōg,
298Thin mane, thicke taile, broad buttock, tender hide:
299 Looke what a Hor
se
should haue, he did not lack,
300 Saue a proud rider on
so proud a back.
51301Sometime he
scuds farre o
ff, aud there he
stares,
302Anon he
starts, at
sturring of a feather:
303To bid the wind a ba
se he now prepares,
304And where he runne, or
flie, they know not whether:
305 For through his mane, & taile, the high wind
sings,
306 Fanning the haires, who waue like feathred wings.
C iij