A SATYR AGAINST THE CAVALIERS: Penned in opposition to the Satire against Separatists.  
GOOD morrow to my Genius, and good day  
To my revived self: Thy drowsy clay  
Shake off my soul, and make thyself as free,  
As in the Separation thou must be.  
Come life of truth, and innocence, inspire  
My late Lethargic mind with active fire.;  
Such as may be to wanderers a light,  
And bring them with myself to day from night.  
Farewell all by-respects, with you farewell,  
Each  and too-loyall Infidel,  
That thinks it safer to break faith with Christ,  
And heaven, than not be sworn a Monarchist;  
Calls grave men's resolutions for the truth  
Rebellion, managed by the City-youth;  
And regulating errors of the Crown  
Plots and devices forged to pull it down.  
Plots and devices! Take them to yourselves  
True sons of mischief, and your popish Elves  
That with your loyal treasons hug our King  
Unto his own, and Kingdoms ruining▪  
What plots were working when the Statists stood  
On tiptoe, and looked o'er the public good;  
And nothing would be thought on but our lives,  
And fortunes vassalled to prerogatives?  
When the forlorn Imps of great Buckingham  
Reviving, left off mourning for his name,  
And made that platform perfect he begun,  
But being stopped by Felton, left undone?  
Who plotted when the papists were forborn,  
And our Religion made a public scorn?  
When the State-sinners strove with might and main  
To keep them so securely with their gain,  
That if a Cherubin from heaven sent,  
Had told us of this longed-for Parliament,  
Our hopeless hearts would back unto him tell,  
That sure it was too great a miracle.  
Yet ye have seen their tricks did fail them all,  
Great CHARLES was pleased a Parliament to call,  
Eminent in wisdom, courage wit and zeal,  
The choicest flowers of the Commonweal,  
Whose yet un-blasted virtues gave us free  
Enjoyment of a year of jubilee,  
Till malice, active in its base design,  
Their fair proceed strove to countermine,  
By bringing Majesty to a distaste  
Of this or that which in the house was passed:  
Nor was there counsel wanting to set forth,  
A journey now prepared for the North,  
And all forsooth for this same weighty reason,  
Because th' unruly people at such a season,  
Pressed to the Court. No question they were glad  
At such a time to see those fellows mad:  
Now they have got this end, let them alone  
To bring a sudden war, their main plot, on,  
By working in the Prince a stubborn hate  
To what is thought convenient for the state.  
And now they have their ends: yet this by th' way,  
I'm of the mind we shall not act a play  
As yet, new made by the Poetic Earl  
Newcastle, that misused the Comic Girl:  
I'll to Blackfriar, and entreat them straight;  
The Countrey-Captaine may his Lord await;  
The little wit may pass, but for the form,  
There's as much order in't as in a storm;  
And when his Variety came out to please,  
The stage itself was turned to Little-ease:  
Let both be sent to his penurious Camp,  
To save the charge of a Tobacco Lamp.  
Such Lords, whose vanities teach them no more  
Than art to please in Court, to dice and whore,  
Are now the sticklers for the Cavall'rie,  
With the blind Owlets of Philosophy,  
Whose poor ambition leads them blindfold on  
To Court, the whorish weeds of Babylon.  
Bristol, thou hast a pate: therefore 'tis known  
Thy Counsels are not Reasons, and thine own:  
We know what took thy Spaniolized George,  
When he for Strafford speech and wit did forge;  
Thou saw'st his eager truth might lose the King,  
Believe me Sir, it was a dangerous thing.  
Alas for the great Seal! It is great pity  
He lost the favour both of Court and City;  
By staying long, and then staying no longer;  
Here British resolution should been stronger:  
Regarded now of few, hated of most,  
He walketh like some honourable ghost.  
Falkland, they say you are the learned wit,  
That giving Roast-meat, beats us with the spit,  
That with your clouded sense in Declarations,  
Would cheat us to the ruin of three Nations;  
You must excuse us, if we say there is  
A falsehood in each long Parenthesis.  
Hartford, and Herbert, Worster, with the rest,  
That have a further aim than to invest  
Our loved Charles, with his thrice Royal stem,  
In his (as you do call it) lost Diadem.  
Revile ye still the pillars of our state,  
Whilst you stand tottering o'er your  fate,  
Call up those busy ghosts that once did thrive  
In mischief like yourselves, but not outlive  
Their work, gallant Cethegus, and the rest,  
Whose glorious hopes plumed with Rome's wealth, and dressed,  
Soared high, and ventured themselves, and all,  
To give themselves, or Rome a funeral;  
If Spleens may be more fatal than your own,  
Mix theirs with yours, that once it may be known  
 tried your worst; if first it prove in vain,  
Use may make perfect, act it o'er again:  
But know, there is above a power Divine  
Will give's a Tully for each Catiline.  
FINIS.   

Printed in the Year 1643.