August 1725 produced a conflict for the entertainment of the visitors of Mr. Figg's amphitheatre, Oxford-road, which is characteristic of savage ferocity indeed. Sutton the champion of Kent and a courageous female heroine of that County fought Stokes and _his much admired_ consort of London; 40_l._ was to be given to the male or female who gave most cuts with the sword, and 20_l._ for most blows at quarter-staff, besides the collection in the box. A poetical account of a battle of this kind, was published in the London Journal, and is, I think, worth preserving, especially as it is said to have been written by the author of the Pastoral in the Spectator beginning "My time, O ye Muses, was happily spent:" "Long was the great Figg by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledg'd of Mary-bon plains; To the towns far and near did his valour extend, And swam down the river from Thame to Gravesend. There liv'd Mr. Sutton, pipe-maker by trade, Who, hearing that Figg was thought such a stout blade, Resolv'd to put in for a share of his fame, And so sent to challenge the Champion of Thame. With alternate advantage two trials had past, When they fought out the rubbers Wednesday last. To see such a contest the house was so full, There hardly was room left to thrust in your scull. With a prelude of cudgels we first were saluted, And two or three shoulders most handsomely fluted; Till, wearied at last with inferior disasters, All the company cry'd, "Come, the Masters, the Masters." Whereupon the bold Sutton first mounted the stage, Made his honours as usual, and yearn'd to engage; Then Figg with a visage so fierce and sedate Came, and enter'd the list with his fresh-shaven pate. Their arms were encircled by armigers two With a red ribbon Sutton's, and Figg's with a blue; Thus adorn'd the two heroes 'twixt shoulder and elbow Shook hands, and went to 't; and the word it was _bilboe_. Sure such a concern in the eyes of spectators Was never yet seen in our Amphitheatres! Our Commons and Peers from their several places To half an inch distance all pointed their faces; While the rays of old Phœbus that shot through the sky-light Seem'd to make on the stage a new kind of twilight; And the Gods without doubt, if one could but have seen them, Were peeping there through to do justice between them. Figg struck the first stroke, and with such a vast fury, That he broke his huge weapon in twain I assure you. And if his brave rival this blow had not warded, His head from his shoulders had quite been discarded. Figg arm'd him again, and they took t'other tilt, And then Sutton's blade run away from its hilt; The weapons were frighted, but as for the men In truth they ne'er minded, but at it again. Such a force in their blows you'd have thought it a wonder