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A portly man sits astride a bearded centaur. The centaur is wearing a helmet and carrying a spear. The mean wears a monk’s tunic and is mopping his tonsured brow.
A poem underneath the image:
Next was November; he grown and fat
As fed with lard, and that right well might seems;
For he had been a fatting hogs of late,
That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steam;
And yet the season was full sharp and breem;
In planting eeke he took no small delight,
Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme
For it a dreadful centaure was in sight,
The seed of Saturn and fair Nais, Chiron hight. Spenser.