The satirists soon turned this new political trick of "petitions" into an instrument for their own purpose: we have "Petitions of the Poets,"--of the House of Commons to the King,--Remonstrances to the Porters' Petition, &c.: spirited political satires. One of these, the "Players' Petition to the Parliament," after being so long silenced, that they might play again, is replete with sarcastic allusions. It may be found in that rare collection, entitled "Rump Songs," 1662, but with the usual incorrectness of the press in that day. The following extract I have corrected from a manuscript copy:-- Now while you reign, our low petition craves That we, the king's true subjects and your slaves, May in our comic mirth and tragic rage Set up the theatre, and show the stage; This shop of truth and fancy, where we vow Not to act anything you disallow. We will not dare at your strange votes to jeer, Or personate King PYM[154] with his state-fleer; Aspiring Catiline should be forgot, Bloody Sejanus, or whoe'er could plot Confusion 'gainst a state; the war betwixt The Parliament and just Harry the Sixth Shall have no thought or mention, 'cause their power Not only placed, but lost him in the Tower; Nor will we parallel, with least suspicion, Your synod with the Spanish inquisition. All these, and such like maxims as may mar Your soaring plots, or show you what you are, We shall omit, lest our inventions shake them: Why should the men be wiser than you make them? We think there should not such a difference be 'Twixt our profession and your quality: You meet, plot, act, talk high with minds immense; The like with us, but only we speak sense Inferior unto yours; we can tell how To depose kings, there we know more than you, Although not more than what we would; then we Likewise in our vast privilege agree; But that yours is the larger; and controls Not only lives and fortunes, but men's souls, Declaring by an enigmatic sense A privilege on each man's conscience, As if the Trinity could not consent To save a soul but by the parliament. We make the people laugh at some strange show, And as they laugh at us, they do at you; Only i' the contrary we disagree, For you can make them cry faster than we. Your tragedies more real are express'd, You murder men in earnest, we in jest: There we come short; but if you follow thus, Some wise men fear you will come short of us. As humbly as we did begin, we pray, Dear schoolmasters, you'll give us leave to play Quickly before the king comes; for we would Be glad to say you've done a little good Since you have sat: your play is almost done As well as ours--would it had ne'er begun. But we shall find, ere the last act be spent, _Enter the King, exeunt the Parliament._ And _Heigh then up we go!_ who by the frown