The Princely Scuffle: Or, An Account of the Late Famous Duel, which happened betwixt the Prince of Wales, and the Young Duke of Berry, one of the French King's Grand sons. 26. Jan. 1690/ 1  
 depiction of the fistfight between the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Berry  depiction of the French king 
Don't Bank 'em; Let 'em Fight.   depiction of the English queen 
O! the Prince! Part' em.   depiction of the Prince of Wales 
You French Dog.   depiction of the Duke of Berry 
You English Bastard.   

ALL you that pass by, I pray you draw nigh,  
Attend to my Song, without ever a lie;  
There chanced t'other day, a most Tragical Fray  
Between Two Young Princes, as they were at play  
In a Garden.   

The One he was bold, being Four Years old,  
And scorned by a Ty●er for to be controlled;  
Yet tho' he was Young, he could handle his Tongue,  
And called his Welsh-Highness i'th' midst of a Throng,  
English Bastard.   

The Other so Wise, did the Dauphin despise,  
His Countenance shew'd, his Flesh at him did rise;  
Quoth he, How I Itch, to have a Sound Twitch  
At that French saucy Son of a Bitch.  
The Young Dauphine.   D●UPHINE. 

Begar, dost dou come, to beat me at Home;  
Nay, if it be so, den have at dy Bum,  
That none may e're say, of me another day,  
I dishonoured myself, in Running away  
From a tiler.   P. of WALES. 

French Dog, dost thou think, I ever will shrink?  
No, e're I have done, thy French hid it shall stink:  
Then do not suppose, I am one of those,  
That will run away for one Bloody Nose;  
No, I Scorn it.   

Tho' my Rigid Fate, has exposed me to hate,  
And am, like an Old almanac, quiter out of date;  
Yet still there remains, English Blood in my Veins;  
Then hold your French Tongue, or I'll beat out your Brains,  
You Young Vrchin.   

At this Dauphine Hist, and up with his Fist;  
But the Prince he drew back, and the Dauphine he mist:  
And the Prince to repay, his kindness, they say,  
knocked the Young Dauphin down, and there the Rogue lay  
For an Hour.   

But being revived, together they strived,  
And e'er they had done, the late Queen she arrived;  
Who seeing the Battle, fought on with such mettle,  
She set up her Notes, and made the Air rattle  
Like Thunder.   

Pray part them, she cried: The French King replied,  
I cannot tell which has the best on his side:  
Then part not the Chits; you Rogues, look to your Hits;  
At which, the late Queen, she fell into Fits.  
And no wonder.   

For such a sad Maul, there never did fall,  
Since james, for not Fighting, she beat at White-hall;  
And so these Young Sparks, did Fight like two Sharks,  
That on both their Bodies, you might see the Marks  
A Month after.   

The French King did say, They shall have fair play;  
This is not diversion, I have e'●y day;  
With that they did Fight, in Earnest out-right,  
And the Welsh Prince he Worsted the Young Dauphine quiter,  
That he cried.   

And then the Late Queen, who the Duel had seen,  
And saw her Son's Nose bleed, so raised her Spleen,  
That she stepped to the Dauphine, who was crying and coughing,  
Quoth she, You Young Bastard, your grandfathers huffing  
shan't daunt me.   

Without any delay, she began a new Fray,  
And flew at Old Lewis, and beat him they say,  
That h● rolled in his Gore, and his Flesh it was sore;  
Besides it is said, She in Fury Tore  
Off his Whiskers.   

But a great English Peer. who chanced to be near,  
And so this Confusion he fortuned to hear,  
stepped in to make Peace, which they all did embrace,  
And the Queen gave Old Lewis a Plaster for's Face,  
So they partend.    
FINIS.  

Translated from the Orignal, Printed at AMSTERDAM.