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