I will have but one fit more, and so make an end.
Ralph. I pray you, sir, let us no more contend.
New. Marry, this hath breathed me very well:
Now let me hear, how your tales ye can tell.
And I (master judge) will so bring to pass,
That I will judge who shall be knave of clubs at Christmas.[339]
Tom. Gog's wounds, I am like Phalaris, that made a bull of brass—
New. Thou art like a false knave now, and evermore was.
Tom. Nay, I am like Phalaris, that made a bull of brass,