Let Warwick's mufe with Afh

And Ozel's with Lord Hervey's,
Tickell and Addison combine,
And Pope tranflate with Jervis.

L- himself, that lively lord,
Who bows to every lady,

-t join,

Shall join with F- in one accord,
And be like Tate and Brady.

I

Ye ladies too draw forth your pen ;
pray where can the hurt lie?
you have brains as well as men,
As witnefs Lady Wortley.

Since

Now, Tonfon, lift thy forces all,

Review them, and tell nofes:

For to poor Ovid shall befal

A ftrange metamorphosis;

A metamorphofis more ftrange

Than all his books can vapour

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65

70

"To what," (quoth 'fquire)" fhall Ovid change?" 75 Quoth Sandys, To wajie paper.

*U M B R A.

CLOSE to the best-known author Umbra fits,

The conftant index to all Button's wits.

Obl

Who's here? cries Umbra: only Johnson-
Your flave, and exit; but returns with Rowe :
Dear Rowe, let's fit and talk of tragedies:

5

Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he flies.

:

Then up comes Steele he turns upon his heel,
And in a moment faftens upon Steele ;

But cries as foon, Dear Dick, I must be gone;
For if I know his tread, here's Addison.
Says Addison to Steele, "Tis time to go:
Pope to the closet steps afide 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, fenfe, like charity, begins at home.

DUKE UPON DUK E.

An excellent new Ballad.

To the Tune of Chevy-Chace.

TO lordings proud I tune my lay,

Who feaft 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 Guife,

And Nic. of Lancastere.

When Richard Coeur-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.

5

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-fe, a kick.

35.

1

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

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 befide.

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 skin.

With Spanish wool he dy'd his cheek,
With effence oil'd his hair;

No vixen civet-cat fo fweet,

Nor could fo fcratch and tear..

Right tall he made him felf to fhow,

20

25

30

Oh, thus it was: He lov'd him dear,
And caft how to requite him
And having no friend left but this,
He deem'd it meet to fight him.

40

Forthwith he drench'd his defp'rate quill,
And thus he did indite :

45

"This eve at whisk ourself will play, "Sir Duke! be here to-night."

Ah no! ah no! the guilelefs Guife

Demurely did reply;

I cannot go, nor yet can ftand,

So fore the gout have I.

The Duke in wrath call'd for his fteeds,

And fiercely drove them on;

50

Lord! Lord! how rattled then thy ftones,

55

O kingly Kenfington!

i...

All in a trice he rush'd on Guife,

Thruft out his lady dear;

He tweak'd his nofe, trod on his toes,

And fmote 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 fhould fay, Alas the day
When John of Guife fhall maul thee!

For on thee did he clap his chair,

And on that chair did fit;

Up didft thou look, oh woeful Duke!

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

Ad, instead of trope.

"Lie there, thou caitiff vile! quoth Guife; No Jheet is here to fave thee:

"The cafement it is fhut likewife;

66 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'st thou not me, who (God be prais'd)

"Have brawl'd and quarrell'd more,

85

"Than all the line of Lancaftere,

"That battled heretofore?

"In fenates fam'd for many a fpeech,

"And (what fome awe muft give ye,

"Tho' laid thus low beneath thy breech),

"Still of the council privy;

Still of the duchy chancellor ;

"Durante life I have it ;

"And turn, as now thou doft on me,
"Mine ae on them that gave it."

But now the fervants they rufh'd in ;
And Duke Nic. up leap'd he :
I will not cope against fuch odds,
But, Guife! 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 Guife) I'll fight with thee."

And now the fun declining low

Beftreak'd with blood the fkies;

When, with his fword at faddle-bow,
Rode forth the valiant Guife.

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