Where all the mobile in crowds resort,
As on firm land, to walk, and trade, and sport;
Now booths do stand where boats did lately row,
And on its surface up and down men go,
And Thames becomes a kind of raree-show.
Its upper rooms are let to mortal dweller,
And underneath it is god Neptune’s cellar;
Now Vulcan makes his fires on Neptune’s bed,
And sawcy cooks roast beef upon his head,
As many tuns of ale and brandy flow