At this time the ſpring-tide of their mirth ſo drowned their ſouls; that the Turks coming in upon them, cut every one of their throats, to the number of twentie thouſand: and quickly they were ſtabbed with the ſword that were cup-ſhot before. A day which the Dutch may well write in their Kalendars in red letters died with their own bloud; when their camp was their ſhambles, the Turks their butchers, and themſelves the Martinmaſſe-beeves: from which the beaſtly drunkards differ but a little.