NEWS FROM GUILDHALL, Or the Combat of the Giants.  
SO many Improbable Stories have been writ of Giants in former Ages, that this will seem rather a Romance, than a Combat, let it be never so Real. And though it be Prodigious in itself, yet since there are less Absurdities and fewer Contradictions in it, then in some Dying Speeches, I know not why I should not be believed as well as any Father Confessor of Poland or Hungary, especially having almost all the Eyes and Ears of this Incredulous Town, Witnesses to the Combat, to testify the Truth of this Relation.  
On the last Day, the Debate was held about the Address for Surrendering the Charter, there was such a Noise in the Hall as has not been heard, since the last Memorable Riot. Alace for the poor Charter says one, alace for our Freedoms and Lives, says another, Liberty and Property, is no more when we cease to be Freemen, we must part, we will not part with our Charter. This Acclamation of the Masters Alarmed the Master-Prentice, who cried a Fart for the Charter, let 'em take it, and much good do 'em, shall we complain for being Freemen? Now we may Drink, Swear and Whore, as well as Sir Thomas himself, and Commit Trespass with our Neighbour Pullen without the forfeit of our Indentures. A Butcher's Wife Swore, while she was in the Flesh, she would Trade in the Flesh, and dispose of her on in despite of the Charter, to whom a Fishmongers Wife made Answer, Right Neighbour, Charter or no Charter, I will not beat a Farthing of my old Rate either of Fish or Flesh, to the best Customer in England, God Bless His Majesty. Our own is our own still, and we will use them to our best advantage.  
In this Fury and Distraction they Ran about the Streets all the Day and Night, till about two a Clock in the Morning, when Expecting all things to be at Rest, but the Watch, and Midnight Goblins; there was such a Noise in Guild-Hall as Frighted all the Neighbourhood, Watch and Constables, for your must Understand, the two Guardian Giants (alarmed at the former Cries, or Inspired by the Genius of their different Parties,) were got together by the Ears; at every Stroke that was made the House Shook as with an Earthquake. All the Glass Windows round about were Shivered to Pieces, and several Chimneys were blown down.  
This dreadful Combat of the Giants was occasioned on a difference about the Surrender of the Charter, Roymond, the Tory Giant Asserting and Justifying the King's Rights, and Routal, the Right and Liberty of the People, which with the Dreadful threatening and Clashing on either side, made such an horrible Din and Clutter, as had not been heard since the last Election of Whig Shrieves.  
The Constable and Watch finding their Bills too weak to withstand the Giants Clubs, went to the Exchange to Reinforce their party with New auxiliaries.  
In the mean time, the Battle continued with great Vigour on both sides. Roymond stood on his St. George's Guard, being rather willing to Defend himself, then Destroy the other, while Routal ●ay'd about him, as if he had been Mad, throwing in upon him, Point and Edge. At last Roymond having Disarmed the other and got his Sword, generously offered him his ●●vord, on this Condition, that he would own his Being afterwards to his Clemency, only granting him some other Regalities for the future, in Token of his Victory: When Routal more full of Malice than Submission thus Replied.  
No Proud Roymond, I Scorn to Submit, tho' to my Master, the Turk shall Submit to the Emperor, and the Rebels in Hungary to their Native Sovereign, sooner than I will Submit on these Terms. My Life I scorn to owe to him that has taken that from me, which is Dearer than that my Liberty, you offer me my Sword, and tie up my Hands from acting. I'll have all or none.  
Ungrateful Wretch said Roymond, is thy Sword with thy Life in my Hand, and does thou refuse my Favour, prepare thee then for the last Stroke, Thus thy proud Head shall go to the Ground.  
Quarter, Quarter, Noble Roymond, said Routal, now I find I am really Conquered, I must Submit, spare me till I make my Will; a few last words, and that's all. No time for Canting Speeches now, said Roymond, thou'lt lie at the last Minute. But I give thee time to Name thy trusties.  
Routal. Jenks, Jekel and Hubland, I make my Executors, to receive all my Debts to be Distributed for carrying on the Cause, and to revenge my Innocent Blood, and all my Arrears in the Hall to Purchas a New Charter. To Hinton, I leave all my Bills and Money at Cent per Cent, to break for me, when I am gone, and Compone for 12. Pence in the Pound, to make a Pension for Perkin, Armstrong and Ferguson, and the Interest to Hubland the Jew (since Conventicles are going down) to Build a Synagogue for the Saints.  
To Pa— A. and Du— I leave my Dominion in Guild-Hall to stand there in my place, as the chief and perpetual Supporters of his Body Uncorporat. To Sir Thomas P— I leave all the Reversion of my Stock in the Chamber of London if he has yet any left unspent, to keep up his Reputation amongst the Whores, and Act the Tory in his Cups till the Whig comes again into Play. To Cor— I'll bequeath my Thrashing Pole with the ball and Iron Spikes instead of a Protestant flail and to Sir Ro. C.— my Punniard to carry in his Pocket instead of the Protestant Dagger that Peeps out and betrays him. To Beth— being as Signal for Hospitality as Loyalty, I leave a bended Nine Pence to entertain the Corporations, and Freemen on the next Election of Whig Sheriffs. To Cor I leave Five Groats to write my Elegy, and as many more to Curtis for Printing it, to be paid out of the Pensions for carrying on the Cause, if there be any Remaining, and to Doctor B— Four-Score Guennies of the same to Writ my Speech, which will Serve as well after as before my Execution.  
What do you Bequeath to me, said Roymond, my Sword, replied Routal, to cut off my Head, or if you will spare my Life, to give me the Honour to Wear it in your Service, with this Generous Submission, said Roymond, thou hast Conquered the Conqueror, take thy Life, but the Sword I will keep in my own Hands, to Dispose of as I think Fit, and as I shall find thee Deserving for the Future.   

Edinburgh, reprinted in the Year, 1683.