Epigram II. On a Quarreller

A Humorous fellow in a Tavern late,
Being drunk and valiant, gets a broken pate;
The Surgeon with his instruments and skill,
Searche his skull deeper, and deeper still,
To feel his brains, and tries if those were sound,
And as he keeps d about the wound,
The fellow cryes, Good Surgeon spare the pains;
When I began this brawl, I had no brains.