An Excellent new SONG Call'd,
The Female DUEL:
OR,
The Victorious Williamite Lady,
Who was challeng'd to Fight a Duel by a
JACOBITE Lady.
Tune of, If Love's a sweet Passion.
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IN Yokshire late happen'd a desperate fight
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'Tween a Jacobite lady and a Williamite,
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'Twas fought with such courage no men could do more,
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Nor the like was nere known 'tween two women before;
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For each met in the field with her sword by her side,
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Resolving the same should their quarrel decide.
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'Twas after this manner the fray did begin,
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At a Knight's in Yorkshire at a merry-making,
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There many fair ladies and gentlemen din'd,
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When dinner was over then round went the wind,
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By that time each drank for their shear a whole quart,
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Then a bumper round (for a health) at a draught.
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Says the Jacobite lady, Drink a health to the King,
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Says the Williamite lady, That health I'll begin,
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In the field he's a monarch that's valiant and brave,
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And does venture his life these three kingdoms to save,
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Come madam, success to king William I say,
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And to all his brave forces by land and by sea.
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The Jacobite lady being put to a stand,
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Immediately struck glass and wine from her hand,
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And called her rebellious Heretick too,
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Then took up a bottle to give her a blow;
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But some there did hinder her furious design,
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And fain would perswade her to friendship that time.
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But nothing her passion that time could asswage,
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She rise up in a fury, went away in a rage;
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Next Morning she sent her a letter with speed;
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When the Williamite Lady the same once did read,
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She found she was challeng'd, a sword she must bri[ng,]
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And fight her, for drinking a health to the king.
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The Williamite lady not daunted in mind,
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But answer did send, she would meet at the time:
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A suit of her brother's this lady put on,
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With a sword by her side too she marched along,
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To meet her bold challenger fairly to fight,
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For she said she'd not fear any she Jacobite.
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You are for king William, the Jacobite cry'd;
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I am so, and will be while I live, she reply'd:
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Then you and I must have a tryal of skill;
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You see I'm prepar'd to kill, or be kill'd.
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Then bravely they thrust at each other I say,
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But the Jacoblte lady was forc'd to give way.
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Their glittering swords they did heartily push,
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Till the Jacobite lady fell into a bush.
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A man who did spie them came running in hast,
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And held, as he thought, a young man by the wast,
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Till the lady who fell, and lay bleeding, did cry,
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I am wounded, come help me, or else I shall dye.
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Her hat and wigg falling off made them be known,
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Or else they had gone for two young men unknown;
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But when I found out who these young women were,
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They beg'd I would not their strange quarrel declare;
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And had not ones Brother came just as he did,
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This secret for me should for ever been hid.
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FINIS.
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