Thou hast at lengthe unhooded, Master Hoode, An unleasht tassel, and the sporte begun, Whome wee soe late bye comic woman-hoode Did thinke another Adame quite undone; We punlesse elves doe laud the hardy-hoode, That with brighte eyne the conteste did not shunne, But shew'd the foe of merrie brother-hoode, Thatte thou the finer corde of joke hadst spunne; Hood-wink'd noe more by this fair sister-hoode, Our eyne we ope' — O Hoode thou arte a gunne Full charg'd with quips and cranks, mirth's soldier-hoode, A Wellington in jeu d'esprit and funne; All gloom nigh thee oure smiles doe farre outrunne, Like Richmonde Hill a plesaunte neighbourhoode.
