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