Slade

Yet he slow in the slade of men of armys mo than syxty with his hondys.

The thick and well-growne fogge doth matt my smoother slades, And on the lower Leas, as on the higher Hades The daintie Clover growes (of grasse the onely silke) That makes each Udder strout abundantly with milke.

The Bishop, wearing a gleaming cape of green and gold, raised his hand over the plough and the kneeling farmers: "God speed the plough: the beam and the mouldboard, the slade and the sidecap, the share and the coulters[…]in fair weather and foul, in success and disappointment, in rain and wind, or in frost and sunshine. God speed the plough."