Invincibly good-humour'd still I laugh:
A stout good soldier I, valorous to a fault,
When once my stomach's up and supper served:
You know my humour, not one spark of pride,
Such and the same for ever to my friends:
If cudgell'd, molten iron to the hammer
Is not so malleable; but if I cudgel,
Bold as the thunder: is one to be blinded?
I am the lightning's flash: to be puff'd up?
I am the wind to blow him to the bursting: