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But cries as foon, Dear Dick, I must be gone ;
For if I know his tread, bere's Addison.

Says Addison to Steele, 'Tis time to go :
Pope to the closet steps aside with Rowe.
Poor Umbra, left in this abandon'd pickle,
E'en fits him down, and writes to honeft Tickell.

Fool! 'tis in vain from wit to wit to roam; ; 15 Know, fense, like charity, begins at bome.


An excellent new Ballad.

To the Tune of Chevy-Chace.

TJordings proud 1 tune my lay,

Who feast in bow'r or hall : Tho' Dukes they be, to Dukes I fay,

That pride will have a fall.


Now, that this fame it is right footh,

Full plainly doth appear,
From what befel John Duke of Guise,

And Nic. of Lancastere.


When Richard Cour-de-Lion reign'd,

(Which means a lion's heart),
Like him his barons rag'd and roar'd ,

Each play'd a lion's part.
A word and blow was then enough:

Such honour did them prick ;
If you but turn'd your cheek, a cuff;

And if your a--se, a kick.


Look in their face, they tweak'd your nose,

At every turn fell to't ;
Come near, they trod upon your toes ;

They fought from head to foot.


Of these the Duke of Lancastere

Stood paramount in pride;
He kick'd, and cuff'd, and tweak'd, and trod

His foes, and friends beside.


Firm on his front his beaver fate;

So broad, it hid his chin ;
For why ? he deem'd no man his mate,'

And fear'd to tan his kin.

With Spanish wool he dy'd his cheek,

With essence oil'd his hair ; No vixen civet-cat so sweet,

Nor could so scratch and tear.


Right tall he made himself to show,

Tho' made full short by God; And when all other Dukes did bow,

This Duke did only nod.


Yet courteous, blithe, and debonnair

To Guise's Duke was he: Was ever such a loving pair? How could they disagree?

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Oh, thus it was : He loy'd him dear,

And cast how to requite him ; And having no friend left but this,

He deem'd it meet to fight him.

Forthwith he drench'd his defp'rate quill,

And thus he did indite :



“ This eve at whisk ourself will play,

“ Sir Duke ! be here to-night.” Ah no ! ah no! the guileless Guise

Demurely did reply;
I cannot go, nor yet can stand,

So fore the gout have I.
The Duke in wrath call's for his steeds,

And fiercely drove them on;
Lord! Lord! how rattled then thy ftones,

O kingly Kenfington !


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All in a trice he rush'd on Guise,

Thruft out his lady dear;
Hé tweak'd his nose, trod on bis toes,

And smote him on the ear.


But mark, how 'midst of victory

Fate plays her old dog trick !
Up leap'd Duke John, and knock'd him down,

And fo down fell Duke Nic.


Alas, oh Nic.! oh Nic. alas !

Right did thy goffip call thee : As who should say, Alas the day

When John of Guise shall maut thce!

For on thee did he clap his chair,

And on that chair did fit;
And look'd, as if he meant therein

To do- --what was not fit.

Up did it thou look, oh woeful Duke!

Thy mouth yet durft not ope, Certes for fear of finding there

Ad, infead of trope.


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“ Lie there, thou caitiff vile! quoth Gaise ;

* No joeet is here to save thee : “ The casement it is that likewise;

“ Beneath my feet I have thee. “ If thou haft aught to speak, speak out."

Then Lancastere did cry, • Know'st thou not me, nor yet thyself ?

“Who thou, and who am I? “ Know'At thou not me, who (God be prais'd)

“ Have brawlid and quarrell's more, • Than all the line of Lancastere,

• That battled heretofore? • In fenates fam'd for many a speech,

“And (what some awe must give ye, “ Tho' laid thus low beneath thy breech),

“ Still of the council privy ; & Still of the ducby chancellor ;

Durante life I have it ; “ And turn, as now thou doft on me,

“ Mine aeon them that gave it.” But now the servants they rush'd in ;

And Duke Nic. up leap d he : I will not cope against such odds,

But, Guise ! i'll fight with thee : To-morrow with thee will I fight

Under the green-wood tree; “ No, not to-morrow, but to-night

(Quoth Guise) I'll fight with thee.”





And now the fun declining low

Bestreak’d with blood the skies ; When, with his sword at saddle-bow,

Rode forth the valiant Guise.

Full gently pranc'd he o'er the lawn;

Oft rollid his eyes around,
And from the stirrup stretch'd to find

Who was not to be found. :


Long brandish'd he the blade in air,

Long look'd the field all o'er :
At length he spy'd the merry-men brown,

And eke the coach and four.


From out the boot bold Nicolas

Did wave his wand so white,
As pointing out the gloomy glade

Wherein he meant to fight.

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All in that dreadful hour so calm

Was Lancastere to see,
As if he meant to take the air,

Or only take a fee,


And so he did for to New Court

His rowling wheels did run: :Not that he fhunn'd the doubtful strife ;

But bus’ness must be done.

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Back in the dark by Brompton Park,

He turn'd up thro' the gore ;
So flunk to Cambden house so high,

All in his coach and four.

Mean while Duke Guise did fret and fume,

A fight it was to fee,
Benumb'd bencath the evening-dew

Under the green-wood tree.


Then wet and weary home he far’d,

Sore mutt'ring all the way, “ The day I meet him, Nic. shall rue

“ The cudgel of that day.


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