At length, by chance, he stumbled on his foe,
Not having any power to strike a blow.
He falls upon him with his wounded head,
And makes his conqueror's wings his feather-bed;
Where lying sick, his friends were very chary
Of him, and fetch'd in haste a Pothecary;
But all in vain! His body did so blister
That 'twas incapable of any glyster;
Wherefore, at length, opening his fainting bill,
He call'd a scriv'ner and thus made his Will.
'IMPRIMIS--Let it never be forgot,
My body freely I bequeath to th' pot,
Decently to be boil'd.
****
ITEM: Executors I will have none
But he that on my side laid Seven to One;
And, like a gentleman that he may live,
To him, and to his heirs, my COMB I give,
Together with my brains, that all may know
That oftentimes his brains did use to crow.
****
To him that 's dull I do my SPURS impart,
And to the coward I bequeath my HEART.
To ladies that are light, it is my will
My FEATHERS shall be given; and for my BILL
I'd give 't a tailor, but it is so short,
That I'm afraid he'll rather curse me for 't:
****
Lastly, because I feel my life decay,
I yield and give to Wisbich COCK THE DAY!'[70]
[70] The passages left out in the Will, as marked by asterisks,
though witty, are rather too gross for modern eyes.
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