ENGLANDS Royall Conquest.
Truely manifested in a happy Victory obtained against the Dutch Fleet, by his Majesties Royal Navy, under the Conduct of his Highness Prince
Rupert, and his Grace the Duke of
Albemarle upon
the 25. and 26. of
July 1666. In which Naval Fight we put the Dutch to a total rout, burnt and sunk several of their best ships, and in conclusion forc't them shamefully to run away.
Our own losses being very inconsiderable, onely the
Resolution burnt and two Captains kill'd: Our Generals and all the rest of our Fleet, being safe and in a very good Condition.
The Tune is,
A Fig for
France and
Holland too,
or, Round about the Hollow Tree.
REjoyce, Rejoyce, brave English boys
For now is the time to speak our joys
The routed Dutch are run away,
And we have clearly won the day;
We now are Masters of the Seas,
And may with safety live at ease
Then Butter-Boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
You thought to rule as Lords and Kings.
But now we've taught you better things,
Methinks you might have known before,
What t'was to come so near our shore,
You often times have tri'd our force,
And still you alwaies had the worse;
Then Butter-boxes all lament.
For now you are paid to your own content.
The Dutch are grown so wise and sage,
Without great ods they'l not ingage,
Brave Englishmen will never grutch,
With twenty sail, to fight forty Dutch,
And bring their Lordships by the Lee,
And pay them home for their treachery.
Then Butter-Boxes all lament
For now you are paid to your own content.
The Second part,
to the same Tune.
WHhilst y
t our Ships were sitting forth,
They counted us men of little worth
Vpon our Coast they made great shows,
Not thinking to be paid with blows,
But when our Fleet did once appear,
O then their hearts were fill'd with fear,
Then Butter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
July the five and twentieth day,
Began this Sharp and bloody fray,
At noon the Fleets were both ingag'd,
And men on each side were inrag'd,
The Bullets they did flie amain,
And some were wounded, others slain,
Then Butter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
Prince
Rupert and brave General
Monk,
So pelted
Ruyter and
Vantrump,
That they were in a chafing sweat,
And thought it safest to retreat,
By little and little they shrunk away,
Their want of courage did them betray,
Then Buter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
Five hours they fought couragiously,
Before the Dutch began to flie,
But then their Fleet was severed quite,
Whilest we maintain'd a chasing Fight,
For two dayes space we did pursue,
And pelted them till their sides look'd blew,
Then Butter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
Sir
Jeremy Smith did roughly greet,
The Amiral of the
Zealand Fleet,
With fire and ball he made them run,
Vntill the Victory he had won,
Most bravely he maintain'd the Fight,
Till they divided were by night,
Then Butter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
Brave
Allen and
Holmes, fought like men,
And chas'd the Dutch with five to ten,
So sharply they did ply the Fight,
Till all the Dutch were routed quite,
The Flemmings found such boisterous play,
That they in plain terms ran away,
Then Butter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
Eight Ships of theirs we sunk and fired,
Which for to save they much desired,
And kill'd great numbers of their men,
Where we lost one still they lost ten,
We lost a Stately Ship and Tall,
The
Resolution we did her call,
Then Butter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content.
Our Generals (blest be God) are well,
And all our Fleet as we hear tell,
Lies daring on the
Hollands Coast,
The Duch have now no cause to boast,
'Tis said
de Ruyter and
Trump are slain,
And never will face their Foes again,
Then Butter-boxes all lament,
For now you are paid to your own content
The Cannons from the Tower did roar,
When this good news did come to shore,
The bells did ring and bone-fires shine,
And healths carrous'd in beer and wine,
God bless King
Charles and all our Fleet,
And grant true friends may safely meet,
Then Butter-boxes brag no more.
For now we have Beaten you or'e and or'e.
With Allowance.
FINIS.
London, Printed for Richard Burton at the Horshoe in West-Smithsield.