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The Encounter between Mars and Encelade, designed for the same.

Dame Vict'ry in her draggl'd Gown,
Quite tir'd with running up and down,
Had almost clear'd the doubtful case,
And was a going to take her place,
When two, who had been looking long
For one another thro' the Throng,
Came within view, and spur'd by Fame,
Flew from the Crowds to nobler Game;
And now both Parties left their Foes,
The shortest standing on their Toes;
And thought it worth their while to see,
A brush 'twixt Folks, they knew to be

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(Which never happen'd in Romances)
As well match'd as two equal Chances;
Of Five to Nine, or Six to Eight,
For one was Mars, so fam'd for Fight;
Th'other the bloody Encelade,
Who was as mettlesome a Blade;
Both ran as eager to the full,
As Dogs that run at Nose of Bull;
And, being impatient to engage,
Strove by their haste t'express their rage;
Whilst th'Armies of each side intent,
With what wou'd be the dire event.
Stood hush'd, with open Mouth and Ears,
And by their silence shew'd their Fears:
When lo! the threatning Storm (Heav'n knows
What's best) blew over without blows;
For as they came, where each might spy,
The foul looks of his Enemy.

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In which they shot such flames of Ire,
As must have set their Beards on Fire
Had they been nearer half an Inch:
Just then their fury on the pinch
Left 'em, and fear of Death and Murder,
Would let their Anger go no further;
As when two Balls of equal force,
Meet in the middle of their course
They fall, and by consent disarm
Each other without doing harm;
So both their Courages did meet,
And dropt down at their Owner's Feet;
They doff'd their Bonnets civilly,
Said Sir, how d'ye, and so past by.