The Folly Knight

Behold, is the shield of my valor become dull.
The tip of my spear is rusted with vain jousting,
While the charger beneath me, upon whose sides
Ribs be writ-is my wisdom, which I
Have draped a sumpter-cloth of words,
Fringed of egotry.
So I ride forth upon a day
Armoured at mine own hand;
For my shield of valor is created
Of the substance of my soul-
And my lance is my justice!