'And now poor Norfolk, having lost his eyes, Fights only guided by antipathies: With him, alas! the proverb holds not true-- The blows his eyes ne'er saw his heart most rue. At length, by chance, he stumbled on his foe, Not having any power to strike a blow. He falls upon him with his wounded head, And makes his conqueror's wings his feather-bed; Where lying sick, his friends were very chary Of him, and fetch'd in haste a Pothecary; But all in vain! His body did so blister That 'twas incapable of any glyster; Wherefore, at length, opening his fainting bill, He call'd a scriv'ner and thus made his Will. 'IMPRIMIS--Let it never be forgot, My body freely I bequeath to th' pot, Decently to be boil'd. **** ITEM: Executors I will have none But he that on my side laid Seven to One; And, like a gentleman that he may live, To him, and to his heirs, my COMB I give, Together with my brains, that all may know That oftentimes his brains did use to crow. **** To him that 's dull I do my SPURS impart, And to the coward I bequeath my HEART. To ladies that are light, it is my will My FEATHERS shall be given; and for my BILL I'd give 't a tailor, but it is so short, That I'm afraid he'll rather curse me for 't: **** Lastly, because I feel my life decay, I yield and give to Wisbich COCK THE DAY!'(70) (70) The passages left out in the Will, as marked by asterisks, though witty, are rather too gross for modern eyes. To quote from Pegge once more:--What aggravates the reproach and disgrace upon us Englishmen, are those species of fighting which are called--"the battle royal and the Welsh main"--known nowhere in the world, as I think, but here; neither in China, nor in Persia, nor in Malacca, nor among the savage tribes of America. These are scenes so bloody as almost to be too shocking to relate; and yet as many may not be acquainted with the horrible nature of them, it may be proper, for the excitement of our aversion and detestation, to describe them in a few words.