Foible to foible! Measure distance! Lunge!
Now the thrust ends in the merest harmless touch;
But ere the beaten man throws up the sponge,
As the boxers say, relaxing his hilt-clutch,
There'll be lunges and ripostes of other sort.
Firm foot and steady hand must be their friend;
The encounter will be struggle, not mere sport,
Ere the end.
First to left and then to right! Parry of quarte!
In pronation by a turn of supple wrist!