“Blither than hare that hath escaped the hounds,
    The house prorogued, the chancellor rebounds. 
    What frosts to fruits, what arsenic to the rat,
    What to fair Denham mortal chocolate,[130:1]
    What an account to Carteret, that and more,
    A parliament is to the chancellor.”

De Ruyter makes his appearance, and Monk

          “in his shirt against the Dutch is pressed. 
    Often, dear Painter, have I sat and mused
    Why he should be on all adventures used. 
    Whether his valour they so much admire,
    Or that for cowardice they all retire,
    As heaven in storms, they call, in gusts of state,
    On Monk and Parliament—­yet both do hate.
    ... 
    Ruyter, the while, that had our ocean curbed,
    Sailed now amongst our rivers undisturbed;
    Surveyed their crystal streams and banks so green,
    And beauties ere this never naked seen.”

His flags fly from the topmasts of his ships, but where is the enemy?

    “So up the stream the Belgic navy glides,
    And at Sheerness unloads its stormy sides.”

Chatham was but a few miles further up.

    “There our sick ships unrigged in summer lay,
    Like moulting fowl, a weak and easy prey,
    For whose strong bulk earth scarce could timber find,
    The ocean water, or the heavens wind. 
    Those oaken giants of the ancient race,
    That ruled all seas, and did our channel grace;
    The conscious stag, though once the forest’s dread,
    Flies to the wood, and hides his armless head. 
    Ruyter forthwith a squadron doth untack;
    They sail securely through the river’s track. 
    An English pilot too (O, shame!  O, sin!)
    Cheated of ’s pay, was he that showed them in.”

The chain at Gillingham is broken, to the dismay of Monk, who

            “from the bank that dismal sight does view;
    Our feather gallants, who came down that day
    To be spectators safe of the new play,
    Leave him alone when first they hear the gun,
    (Cornbury,[131:1] the fleetest) and to London run. 
    Our seamen, whom no danger’s shape could fright,
    Unpaid, refuse to mount their ships for spite,
    Or to their fellows swim on board the Dutch,
    Who show the tempting metal in their clutch.”

Upnor Castle avails nought.

    “And Upnor’s Castle’s ill-deserted wall
    Now needful does for ammunition call.”

The Royal Charles is captured before Monk’s face.

    “That sacred Keel that had, as he, restored
    Its excited sovereign on its happy board,
    Now a cheap spoil and the mean victor’s slave
    Taught the Dutch colours from its top to wave.”

Horrors accumulate.