This Ironside tooke hold, and sodainly
Hurled mee, by judgment of the standers by,
Some twelve foote by the square; takes mee againe,
Out-throwes it halfe a bar; and thus wee twaine
At this hot exercise an hower had spent,
Hee the feirce agent, I the instrument.
My man began to rage, but I cry’d, Peace,
When he is dry or hungry he will cease:
Hold, for the Lords sake, Nicholas, lest they take us,
And use us worse then Hercules us’d Cacus.