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 forct them shamefully to run away. Our own losses being very inconsiderable, onely the _Resolution_ burnt and two Captains kill’d: our General 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 ’twas, 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 the treachery. _Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content._ Whilst that our ships were fitting forth, They counted us men of little worth; Upon 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 Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content._