The Cities thankes to Southwarke, for giving the Army entrance.
We thanke you more then we will say,
But tis the cleane contrary way.
VVE thanke you Neighbours for your love
For sending for the Army,
Which cannot prejudiciall proove,
Alas, they'l never harme ye.
Nor to the City will they doe
But what is good and faire,
They will help all the Suburbes too,
When frogs flie in the ayre.
You clownes and fooles that nothing know
But are made for the slaughter,
By you ou
[...] feares doe dayly grow
Weel fit you for theereafter.
Did ever men before like you,
Send for their bane unto them
And court their presence, whom they knew
Would but at best undoe them?
And give possession of their workes
To those whose undertakings
Shew they will force men like the Turkes
To serve Gods of their makings.
You knaves and dolts that &c.
May those that on the Thames doe plow
And unto our side ferry
Breake Oares and armes as they doe row
And each man split his Wherry.
May the huge Porpoise swallow them,
And neer, like Ionas, shore them,
And may their sinnes still follow them,
And dead, no man deplore them.
You skabs and varlets nothing &c.
Dee think the Army will regard
Men that are so perfidious,
And not at length give you reward
That shall be home and hideous?
They wisely doe the treason love,
But yet the traytors hate,
And may you them to mercy move
When it shall be too late.
You lumpish Elves that &c.
Did we make you our trustees, to
Doe as you thought fitting,
And did we give our lives to you
Unto our selves unwitting?
If not, how durst you be so bold
Our foes for to invite
And with them treatie for to hold,
Ere we thought requisite?
Ye trayterous guls &c.
May boystrous Thames swell high with rage
And cause an inundation,
Which nothing but your lives may swage,
Let Boreas take his station
Upon your houses, and with them
Into the River sweep you,
Where slaves to Neptunes Diadem
May he for ever keepe you.
Ye cravens that doe &c.
And what now have you galnd, since that
You did that sordid action,
You may expect we know not what
In way of satisfaction?
But shall we tell you what it is
That we for thanks intend you?
We know you for our foes in this,
And let the Divell mend you.
Ye sordid coxcombes who naught know &c.
Alas, you wanted those would swill
And drinke your hogsheads dry,
That made you have so good a will
To send for the Army.
They payd you ready money then,
But theyl doe so no more,
We owe you, and time will be when
We will wipe off our score.
You scoundrels that doe &c.
Now to conclude we give you thankes
For that your kinde intention,
And those many other prankes
Which now we will not mention.
And we assure you when time serves,
We amply will requite you,
Even as it at our hands deserves,
But so as it shall spite you.
And so ye Rogues that nothing know,
But are made for the slaughter,
We shall to you your owne play show▪
And fit you fort heereafter.
FINIS.