To trie it out at football by the shinnes,
To dance the morris, play at barley breake,
At all esploytes a man can think or speake.
At shove-groate, venter-poynte, or crosse and pile,
At beshrow him that’s the last at yonder stile.”
Perhaps, gentle reader, we may have more to say anon about the ancient sports of the age of Shakspeare, but at present we must needs jog on. Let not our readers think, however, that the Bard of Avon never heard of football. Let them look to the “Comedy of Errors,” Act ii. Scene 6,—
“Am I so round with you as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence and he will spurn me hither,
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.”