The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/Letters to several Persons of Honour

by John Suckling

LETTERS
to
SEVERAL PERSONS
of

HONOR.

 

BY

S^R JOHN SUCKLING.

 

LONDON:
Printed for Humphrey Moseley at the Prince's
Arms in St Pauls Churchyard. 1659.

LETTERS

 

XXX

My Lord,
But that you do and say things in Scotland now (my lord) unfit for a good subject to hear, I should have hoped your lordship, by a true relation of the passages there, would have disabused your humble servant here. Distance and men's fears have so enlarged the truth, and so disproportioned everything about the town, that we have made the little troop of discontents a gallant army, and already measure no Scotchman but by his evening shadow.

We hear say you have taken livery and seisin of Northumberland, and there are that give in Cumberland for quietness sake, and are content to think it part of Scotland, because it is so barren. London scriveners begin to wish they had St. Michael-Mount's-men's security for the borderers they have standing bound in their shops; and the Witheringtons' and Howards' estates are already freely disposed to the needier rebels. Much of this part of the world is in agues, but not all, my lord; there are that have read the chronicles, and they find the English oftener marched into Edenburgh than the Scots into London.

Your old friend, Alderman ——— (a learned bard, and a great in-seer into times), saith it is a boil broken out in the breech of the kingdom, and that when it is ripe, it will heal of itself. Others use a handsomer similitude, and compare Scotland to a hive of swarming bees which they say the king watches to reduce them for the better. There is a saucy kind of intelligence about the town, of ten thousand pounds that should be sent by my Lord M—— for redemption of affairs there; but this the wiser sort suspects, for, besides that his majesty buys his own again, they say none but the king would give so much for it.

Some are scandalized at the word of union, and protest they find no resemblance betwixt this new Covenant and our Saviour's. Others wonder why they would make use of religion rather than their poverty for the cause of their mutining, since the one is ever suspected, and the other none would have disputed.

In short, while one part of the town is in whisper and serious, the other part smiles. I therefore desire your lordship to send me word in what state things stand there, that I may know of which side to be. But I beseech you think it not any inbred love to mischief that I now send to enquire how rebellion prospers, but impute it to a certain foolish and greedy curiosity in man's nature of news, and remember that he that hath this disease about him is

Your humble Servant.

 

XXXI

Good Mr. Alderman,
It is most true (I confess) that we do say things here unfit for you to hear there, and for this very reason I will forbear particulars. But this I do (Mr. Alderman) not so much out of fear for myself as care for you; for though you write in the present tense, and use the particle now, which is a kind of an exclusive word, yet it is well enough known a Scotchman at all times might speak what an Englishman durst not hear. It seems (sir) strange to me, that in the beginning of your letter you give us the name of rebels, when none are more his majesty's most humble subjects than we, as in the front of our petitions and messages most plainly appears. True it is, that in case the king will not do what we would have him, we have provided arms, and have persuaded those here, and sent to others abroad to assist us; but that we have at any time denied ourselves to be his most faithful subjects (by your favour, Mr. Alderman) I think will hardly appear. For the taking of livery and seisin of Northumberland (if there be any such thing) neither you nor my Lord ——— ought to be troubled at it, for that is a business belongs to the law, and upon a trial had here in Edenburgh before any of the Covenant, no question but there will be a speedy end of it. The thing I most wonder at is, that our old friend should be so much mistaken as to call Scotland the breech of the kingdom, since you know that is a part of all the rest most subject, and is still put to endure the lash, so that in all likelihood it should rather be your country than ours.

For your simily of the bees, and reducing us to the better, you may assure his majesty from me that it will not quit cost; for both his predecessors and himself have found sufficiently that, hived or unhived, we yield not much honey.

Now, sir, for our new Covenant's having relation to the other, you must know that, though it is not absolutely alike in all, yet in some things it doth not disagree, and in this especially it suits—that there is but little care taken for settling High Commission Courts in either.

The last scruple that troubles you is, why in this case we have made use of religion (which every one is apt to doubt) rather than poverty (which no man would have disputed); and to say truth in this, I was something unsatisfied myself, until I had spoken with one of the learneder of the Covenant, who told me that he had observed very few to thrive by publishing their poverty, but a great many by pretending religion. And now I doubt not but I have in part satisfied your curiosity. There remains only that I give you my opinion concerning which party you ought to be of, and according to the friendship that is betwixt us, I will deal plainly with you, that if you had no more to lose than some of us have, this would be no ill side (for you see how God hath blessed the Hollanders). But, as you are, London is no ill place; for, should you bring your money hither, the temptation would be too strong for the men, and like a hungry man brought to a strange table, we should fall to, without much inquiring whose the meat was.

 

XXXII
An Answer to a Gentleman that sent to inquire after the Scottish business

Sir,
That you may receive an account of the Scottish business, and why there hath been such irresolution and alteration about the levies lately, it is fit you know that this northern storm (like a new disease) hath so far posed the doctors of state that as yet they have not given it a name, though perchance they all firmly believe it to be rebellion. And therefore (sir) it is no wonder if these do here as the learned in physick, who, when they know not certainly the grief, prescribe medicines sometimes too strong, sometimes too weak. The truth is, we here consider the Scottish affair much after the rate the mortals do the moon: the simpler think it no bigger than a bushel, and some (too wise) imagine it a vast world, with strange things undiscovered in it—certainly two ill ways of casting it up, since the first would make us too secure, the other too fearful. I confess, I know not how to meet it in the middle, or set it right; nor do I think you have, since I should believe the question to be rather A King or no King there, than A Bishop or no Bishop. In great mutinies or insurrections of this nature pretentions speciously conscionable were never wanting, and indeed are necessary; for rebellion is itself so ugly, that did it not put on the vizard of religion, it would fright rather than draw people to it, and being drawn, it could not hold them without it.

Imaginary cords, that seem to fasten man to heaven, have tied things here below surer together than any other obligation. If it be liberty of conscience they ask, 'tis a foolish request, since they have it already, and must have it in despite of power. For as Theoderic the Goth said to the Jews, Nemo cogitur credere invitus. If the exercise of that liberty, 'tis dangerous; for not three men are of the same opinion in all, and then each family must have a war within itself. Look upon their long preparations (and consider withal prophecy is sealed, and therefore they could not foretell this book should be sent unto them), and you will conclude they rather employed Conscience, than Conscience employed them. Enquire after their leaders, and you will hardly find them apostles, or men of such sanctity that they should order religion. Lesley himself (if his story were searched) would certainly be found one who, because he could not live well there, took up a trade of killing men abroad, and now is returned, for Christ's sake, to kill men at home. If you will have my opinion, I think their quarrel to the king is that which they may have to the sun: he doth not warm and visit them as much as others. God and nature have placed them in the shade, and they are angry with the King of England for it. To conclude, this is the case: the great and wise Husbandman hath planted the beasts in out-fields, and they would break hedges to come into the garden. This is the belief of

Your humble Servant.

 

XXXIII

Sir,
We are at length arrived at that river, about the uneven running of which my friend Mr. William Shakespeare makes Henry Hotspur quarrel so highly with his fellow-rebels, and for his sake I have been something curious to consider the scantlet of ground that angry monsieur would have had in, but cannot find it could deserve his choler, nor any of the other side ours, did not the king think it did. The account I shall now give you of the war will be but imperfect, since I conceive it to be in the state that part of the four and twenty hours is in, which we can neither call night nor day. I should judge it dawning towards earnest, did not the Lords Covenanters' letters to our Lords here something divide me. So (sir) you may now imagine us walking up and down the banks of Tweed like the Tower lions in their cages, leaving the people to think what we would do if we were let loose. The enemy is not yet much visible: (it may be, it is the fault of the climate, which brings men as slowly forwards as plants:) but it gives us fears that the men of peace will draw all this to a dumb show, and so destroy a handsome opportunity, which was now offered, of producing glorious matter for future chronicle.

These are but conjectures, sir. The last part of my letter I reserve for a great and known truth, which is, that I am (sir)

Your most humble Servant, &c.

 

XXXIV

My Lord,
At this instant it is grown a calm greater than the storm, and if you will believe the soldier, worse. Good arms and horses are already cheap, and there is nothing risen in value but a Scotchman. Whether it be (my lord) the word native, or the king's good nature, we know not; but we find they really have that mercy on earth which we do but hope for from heaven; nor can they sin so fast as they are forgiven.

Some (and not unreasonably) perchance will imagine that this may invite good subjects to be ill, and that, as the sun melts ice but hardens clay, majesty, when it softens rebellion, may make allegiance stubborn. If (my lord) they shall more straitly now besiege the king's ear, and more boldly ingross suits, posterity must tell this miracle, that there went an army from the south, of which there was not one man lost, nor any man taken prisoner but the king.

All we have to raise the present joys above the future fears is, that we know majesty hath not swallowed down so severe pills as it was thought necessity would prescribe for the purging and setting itself right.

Your humble Servant.

 

XXXV

Sir,
The little stops or progresses which either love of the public, private fears, niceties of honour, or jealousy have caused in the treaty now on foot, arrive at me so slowly, that unless I had one of Mr. Davenant's Barbary pigeons (and he now employs them all, he says, himself for the queen's use) I durst not venture to send them, sir, to you, lest, coming to your hands so late, you should call for the map to see whether my quarters were in England or in Barbary. The truth is, I am no first favourite to any Lord of Secrets at this time; but when they come from Council, attend the short turn with those that are, and, as in discharge of pieces, see a whisper go off some good space of time before I hear it, so satisfy my thirst of novelty from the stream, not from the fountain.

Our very thoughts are hardly news; and while I now intend to write you other men's (for my own are not worthy of knowledge), it is not without some fear that they have already sent them to Whitehall themselves.

There are, sir, here that have an opinion, necessity, not good nature, produced this treaty, and that the same necessity which made them thus wise for peace will make them as desperate for war, if it succeed not suddenly.

Some conceive little distrusts among themselves will facilitate the work, and that the danger, now grown nearer, will divide the body, by persuading each man to look to his own particular safety. So we see men in ships, while there is hope, assist each other; but when the wrack grows visible, leave the common care, and consult only their own escape.

There are some imagine this treaty of either side is not so much to beget a good peace as a good cause, and that the subject could do no less than humbly petition, not to appear a rebel, nor the king no less than graciously to hear those petitions, not to appear a tyrant, and that when one party shall be found unreasonable, the other will be thought excusable.

J. S.

 

XXXVI

Sir,
I send to you now to know how we do here, for in my Lady Kent's well-being much of ours consists. If I am the last, you must impute it to the tenderness of my fears, which durst not inquire into so great a misfortune, or to the coming of bad news, which ever comes latest thither, whither it knows it shall be most unwelcome. For I confess, the report of so great a sickness as my Lady Kent's would give me more trouble than half the sex, although amongst the rest a mistress or two took their fortunes; and though such excellence cannot change but for the better, yet you must excuse us that enjoy the benefit of her conversation here, if we are content Heaven should only give her the blessing of the Old Testament, and for a while defer those of the New. The only comfort I have had in the midst of variety of reports hath been that I have seen nothing of extraordinary in the elements of late, and I conceived it but reasonable that so general an ill, as my Lady Kent's death would be, should be proclaimed by no less than what foretells the evil of great princes or the beginning of great plagues. When so unlucky a minute shall arrive, I would conclude the virtuous and better sort of people have lost some of their power and credit above, and that the sins are more particularly punished of him that is

Her much obliged,⁠
And, sir,⁠
Your most humble Servant,⁠
J.S.

 

XXXVII

Ladies,
The opinion of things is the measure of their value, as was wisely said of a niece of Queen Gorbuduke's. Know then that, if another than the coronet had received this script, he would not perchance have valued it so highly. The Sybil leaves had not so much consultation about them, nor were they half so chargeable as these are like to be. We have first sent them to Secretary Cook, imagining nothing but a state key could unlock those mysteries. Now we are in quest of an Arabic figure-caster, for as much of it as we conceive is Chaldee or Syriac. The coronet believes there are noble things in it; but what Beaumont said of worth wrapped up in rivelled skin he saith of this—Who would go in to fetch it out? Indeed the opinions about it have been different: some thought it a little against the state, others a ballad with the pictures the wrong way; and the most discreet have guessed it to be a collection of charms and spells, and have adventured to cut it into bracelets, to be distributed and worn by poor people as remedies against cramps and toothaches—only we will preserve the faces. And for Mistress Delana's, we do not despair but Vandike may be able to copy it. Threescore pounds we have offered, and I think fourscore will tempt him. For Mistress T. there are in that certain je ne scay quoys, which none but those that have studied it can discover, and Sir Anthony shall hold his hand till Mr. H. comes to town. This is all the favour can be done in this business by

Your humble Servant,
J.S.

 

XXXVIII

Sir,
Lest you think I had not as perfectly forgot you as you glory to have done me, let these lines assure you that, if at any time I think of you, it is with as much scorn as you vainly hitherto may have supposed 't has been with affection. A certain general compassion in me, and pity of poor follies, of which number I take this to be one—a triumph, where there has been no conquest, has persuaded me to let you know this much.

And now, if that you have had so much faith as that you could believe a thing so impossible, as that of my loving of you, would you but reduce yourself to believe a thing so reasonable as that there never was any such matter, you would make me step into a belief that you never yet had the good thoughts of

J. S.

 

XXXIX

There was (O seldom-happy word of was!) a time when I was not Mountferrat; and sure there was a time too, when all was handsome in my heart, for you were there (dear princess), and filled the place alone. Were there—O wretched word again! and should you leave that lodging, more wretched than Mountferrat needs must be

Your humble Servant,⁠
J. S.

 

XL
To T. C.

Though writing be as tedious to me as no doubt reading will be to thee, yet considering that I shall drive that trade thou speak'st of to the Indies, and for my beads and rattles have a return of gold and pearl, I am content for thy sake, and in private, thus to do penance in a sheet.

Know then, dear Carew, that at eleven last night, flowing as much with love as thou hast ebbed, thy letter found me out. I read, considered, and admired; and did conclude at last, that Horseley air did excel the waters of the Bath, just so much as love is a more noble disease than the pox.

No wonder if the Countesses think time lost till they be there. Who would not be, where such cures flow? The care thou hast of me, that I should traffick right, draws me by way of gratitude to persuade thee to bottle us some of that, and send it hither to town. Thy returns will be quicker than those to the Indies; nor need'st thou fear a vent, since the disease is epidemical.

One thing more: who knows (wouldst thou be curious in the search), but thou mayest find an air of contrary virtue about thy house, which may, as this destroys, so that create affection? If thou couldst,

The lady of High-gate then should embrace
The disease of the stomach, and the word of disgrace.
Gredeline and grass-green
Shall sometimes be seen,
Its arms to intwine
About the woodbine.

In honest prose thus: we would carry ourselves first, and then our friends manage all the little loves at Court, make more Tower work, and be the Duke of B. of our age, which without it we shall never be. Think on't, therefore, and be assured that, if thou join'st me in the patent with thee, in the height of all my greatness I will be thine, all but what belongs to Desdemonna, which is just as I mean to venture at thy horse-race Saturday come seven-night.

J. S.

 

XLI

It is none of the least discourtesies money hath done us mortals, the making things, easy in themselves and natural, difficult. Young and handsome people would have come together without half this trouble, if that had never been. This would tell you, madam, that the offer, having nothing about it of new, begot in our young lover very little of anything else, but melancholy, which, notwithstanding, I could easily perceive grew rather from a fear of his father's mind, than a care of satisfying his own. That persuaded me to throw in all, and add the last reserve, which fortunately turned the scale, the cavalier setting a greater rate, and truly, upon the kindness of it, than upon the thing, and in that showed the courtesy of his judgment, as well as his ability. The uncle is no less satisfied than the nephew, and both are confident to draw to the same thoughts, to whom, as it was fit, I have left the office.

And now, madam, you may safely conclude the cause to be removed out of Pluto's court into Cupid's—from the God of Moneys to the God of Love who, if he break not off old customers, will quickly dispatch them, since he seldom delays those that have pass'd their trials in the other place.

Your humble Servant,⁠
J. S.