Cutlass

"Villain, art thou the son of Tamburlaine, And fear’st to die, or with a curtle-axe To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound?"

"A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,"

"’Twas a cutlass swipe, or an ounce of lead, Or a yawing hole in a battered head—"

"... Darkness and empty chairs, This was the port that Alexander Home Had come to with his useless cutlass-wounds And tales of Cook, and half-a-crown a day—"