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GOD prosper long our noble Peers,
And eke our Commons all; A woful scuffle late there was, Near Litigation-hall.
To drub a Peer, with mickle might,
* Lord Hervey.
With Cane uprear'd, in ireful hand,
Brave Crowle th' attack begun, Which from his Lordship's batter'd sconce Soon made the blood to run.
The Peer enrag'd, return'd the same,
His breast glow'd with indignant shame,
Then thwick thwack fell the blows like hail, On head, back, sides, and all;
Good Lord! how echo'd then the rooms! Near Litigation-hall.
Sir Blue-string * startled at the noise,
A plot upon the ministry,
We all shall here be slain.
* Sir Robert Walpole.
Then out Will. Addle* ran, to know
Whence came the dreadful sound; And saw the champions stout engag'd, With many a bleeding wound.
"Hold your dead-doing hands," cry'd he, Ye bold and hardy wights:
Know ye not these walls sacred are
Should but Sir Blue-string chance to know
You caus'd here these alarms, You would be ta'en in custody, Of serjeant 'clep'd at arms.
Then company running between,
Did farther harm prevent;
God knows there how much precious blood Had otherwise been spent.
* Wm. Pultney.
But still his Lordship glowd with ire,
Wherefore for pen and ink he call'd,
And these words strait did write, Which by a brother Peer he sent, His second in this fight.
"Meet me," said he, "thou recreant knave, "I mean thy blood to spill,
"Because we will not parted be,
"A second likewise with thee bring, "As I have one provided,
"That all our quarrels there at once May fairly be decided."
The Peer straitway to th' Mitre goes,
And for the lawyer sent, Who to him instantly repairs,
Suspecting the event.
Crowle having soon perus'd the scroll,
But, with a bold undaunted air,
"Go, tell my Lord, this challenge I
"I'll meet him there without delay,
"We soon shall see if he's a man