estramacon

Then to the pair, who speechless stood, he stretch'd

A table-spread, bade each to hold an end,

And with clear voice: "As we, the Church's arm,

With this estramacon do smite in twain

The texture of this fabric" (here he flash'd

The blade between the two, cleaving the cloth), […]

I tripped a hasty morrice[…]upon the dining table, now offering my sword [to the Duke of Buckingham], now recovering it, I made a blow at his nose—a sort of estramaçon—the dexterity of which consists in coming mighty near to the object you seem to aim at, yet not attaining it.