And quickly Armes him for the Field,
    A little Cockle-shell his Shield, 490
    Which he could very brauely wield: 
      Yet could it not be pierced: 
    His Speare a Bent both stiffe and strong,
    And well-neere of two Inches long;
    The Pyle was of a Horse-flyes tongue,
      Whose sharpnesse nought reuersed.

    And puts him on a coate of Male,
    Which was of a Fishes scale,
    That when his Foe should him assaile,
      No poynt should be preuayling:  500
    His Rapier was a Hornets sting,
    It was a very dangerous thing: 
    For if he chanc’d to hurt the King,
      It would be long in healing.

    His Helmet was a Bettles head,
    Most horrible and full of dread,
    That able was to strike one dead,
      Yet did it well become him: 
    And for a plume, a horses hayre,
    Which being tossed with the ayre, 510
    Had force to strike his Foe with feare,
      And turne his weapon from him.

    Himselfe he on an Earewig set,
    Yet scarce he on his back could get,
    So oft and high he did coruet,
      Ere he himselfe could settle: 
    He made him turne, and stop, and bound,
    To gallop, and to trot the Round,
    He scarce could stand on any ground,
      He was so full of mettle. 520

    When soone he met with Tomalin,
    One that a valiant Knight had bin,
    And to King Oberon of kin;
      Quoth he thou manly Fayrie: 
    Tell Oberon I come prepar’d,
    Then bid him stand vpon his Guard;
    This hand his basenesse shall reward,
      Let him be ne’r so wary.

    Say to him thus, that I defie,
    His slanders, and his infamie, 530
    And as a mortall enemie,
      Doe publickly proclaime him: 
    Withall, that if I had mine owne,
    He should not weare the Fayrie Crowne,
    But with a vengeance should come downe: 
      Nor we a King should name him.

    This Tomalin could not abide,
    To heare his Soueraigne vilefide: 
    But to the Fayrie Court him hide;
      Full furiously he posted, 540
    With eu’ry thing Pigwiggen sayd: 
    How title to the Crowne he layd,
    And in what Armes he was aray’d,
      As how himselfe he boasted.

    Twixt head and foot, from point to point,
    He told th’arming of each ioint,
    In every piece, how neate, and quaint,
      For Tomalin could doe it: 
    How fayre he sat, how sure he rid,
    As of the courser he bestrid, 550
    How Mannag’d, and how well he did;
      The King which listened to it,