Stout Ajax, with his anger-coddled brain,
30Killing a sheep thought Agamemnon slain;
The fiction's now proved true; wounding his roast
I lamentably butcher up mine host.
Such sympathy is with his meat, my weapon
Makes him an eunuch when it carves his capon.
Cut a goose leg and the poor soul for moan
Turns cripple too, and after stands on one.
Have you not heard the abominable sport
A Lancaster grand-jury will report?