A LETTER OUT OF SCOTLAND, FROM Mr. R. L. S. To His Friend, H. B. IN LONDON.
ACcording to my promise, I should have Wrote to you long since, to have given you an account how squares go, but the grief and affright of heart I was in, and the long and tedious Journey, had so tyred me, that I was forced to lye a Bed and think of my wicked fate; and whilst I was musing, I received the Skeldry, or that damn'd picture of Towser, which so inraged me, that it put my before-heated Blood into a Feavor. What Rogues were these, to tye my dear Friend to my Arse too? I must confess they are now even with me for my Iack-an-Apes on Horse-back. I know Hal, thou wantest me, for I do not hear of any great Feats thou hast done since I left to brandish the Pen: And I as much long to be Scribling again, and having a longing desire, after I had rested a while, I had begun a Dialogue between Iockey and Blew-cap, but a Friend of mine coming in, made me burn my papers, for he told me, That 'twould prove to me more fatal than Citt and Bumpkin, or that between Richard and Baxter, or any other Dialogue I had ever wrote, for that these plaguy Scots, if they [Page 2] but smelt I was writing of Dialogues would knock out my Brains, and would never take it so patiently as the English had done, He advis'd me therefore not so much as to think of writing in this place. I find indeed they are a company of surly Fellows, and that they but look a squint at greater persons than my self. I am not here known to be R. they would take me then for a Papist in Masquerade, and then I should surely go to pot, for they have an invetrate Hatred against all Papists, so that I am now putting on a new shape, and appear like a Presbyterian: what a sad thing is this, that I should feign the thing I so much hate? but Hal, Life is sweet, and tho' I am old, I care not to leave this World, for I know not if there be any Scribling in that to come; and since I am now at the worst pass, except Hanging, I desire to live to see a little more Mischief. Well Hal, let me tell thee there are some besides my self of my mind, and I am now scouring up my old Pistols, which I must now handle instead of my Pen; we are preparing, and things will not always run with so smooth a stream, we are pudling the Waters all we can, and let the Citts look to themselves, we may chance to have a brush at their Jackots. Those Furious Gentlemen at Westminster, that go on so vigorously, may perchance find some repulse, if the interest and power of my Master and the Popish party, are able to do it: We yet believe that it will not be so easie a matter for you to put the Duke besides the Saddle, what do you think he has no Friends? no Money? no Interest? nor Allies to help him? we are yet upon Terra Firma, and it will not be long e're my Master will give you a Civil Visit, he has Intreagues in his Head, and some Friends at the Helm who yet know how to Steer for his Interest. I confess that my Hopes are not so very great as they have been, for I did once believe that you should not have been able to have taken off any of the Heads of the Lords in the Tower, but I see I was mistaken, for one of them is taken off: You have droven furiously like Ieheu, impeached the Judges, and almost all my Masters Secret Friends: On my Word 'tis high time for him to look about him, least they pull the painted Iezabell of the Plot out of the Windows, that the little Currs that have worried her hitherto, may lick her Blood. I had your Peers Speech too, 'tis brave that any durst speak so plain English, but this comes of the Liberty of the Press; when I sat at the Helm, these things never were, I would have given it a squeese, you know my Fingers were like Pitch, what ever they laid hold of, stuck to them so fast, they could never be got from them; I tell thee that Speech was almost as Bad as the Appeal, a dangerous Libell. Had I been at London, I would have Answered it, but I tell thee that [Page 3] I have been so terrified with the inveterate hatred of these Blew-Caps against Scriblers, that I am fain to make them believe I never wrote in my Life: I dare not adventure to give you a Visit, tho' my Master should come, and tho' the Parliament, that Bug-bear, should be Prorogued, for I dare not be seen, least the Bayliffs should seize me, for I have not yet got the Money I was promised, and therefore I now write to you to certifie my mind; but I know my Master is just to his Word, and I have hopes Hal, if we Thrive, I shall requite your kindness. I am thinking of some great place for thee, I will be thy True and constant Friend, and that Broom which was tyed to Towsers Tail, shall be Advanced to thy Crest, ever hereafter. But if we fail of our Hopes, I cannot be worse than I am, and therefore give me leave to Hope a little. I intend, when I dare to Write again, to Write a New History of the Popish-Presbyterian-PLOT, I will License it my own self, and no Body shall Print it but you, I will set them forth in their Colours, I have an excellent Defamilory Black taught me by an Italian Iesuit. But yet I cannot but sigh to think of the dismal present time; I am got into a Cold Country, where in silence I often hear my self Rail'd at most profoundly. I was ask'd by a Pyde-mouth'd Rogue the other Day, because I was an English-Man, whether I knew R. L. S. or as they term it, the S. R. and shewing me the Picture of Towser, ask'd me if it was not like him, and if it was Drawn by the Life? I could willingly have dashed his Teeth out if I durst: But Hal, since I cannot write as I was wont, because I must be Employed, I am now learning to play upon the Scotch Bag-pipes, which I will Endeavour to set up instead of the Organs in Churches: I am also learning to speak thorough the Nose, and am getting by Heart the Scotch-Covenant, I may be a Proselite at last, and put on that Vizard, as well as that of the Protestant. I know not how to end when once I have begun to you, but all I have now to desire of you, is, That you will send me all the News you can, both good and bad. I long to know if the Parliament shall Sit again, for some of us have here Great Expectations: I saw all the Votes and Resolves you sent me; God Bless me, said I, from falling under the Clutches of a Parliament; I think I did more wisely than Justice Scroggs, when I fairly run away; 'twas a madness I thought to Fight with Four or Five Hundred Resolute Men. I remember that Black Prophet Dr. Oates, once told me at White-Hall, twirling his Hat about, well Sir, we shall have a Parliament; [Page 4] but I did not then believe him; I now acknowledge him as great a Prophet as Mother Shipton, which the Scots I assure you have in Veneration. Our Astrologers here predict strange things from the Comet that has been lately seen here; some say it portends the Downfall of the Pope, another of the Popish-Plot, another of Monarchy, some of the King of France, others of the Hierarchy of the Bishops, they cannot agree, and to tell you the truth, I believe none of them; I rather think it signifies the Advancement of some Great Man in our Northern parts, to high Honour and Dignity; tho' a bold Fellow with his Bonnet on his Head, the other Night, looking at the Star, told me, when my Masters Beard was as long as the train of that Star, he should be King of England, and not before; Thus the World goes, and people I see will speak their minds, and I cannot help it, I am forced now to endure all. I have no present to send you, if I had any thing by me for you to get a Penny by, I would. If you please, you may print this Letter, which I wrote by stealth, for if my Name be set to it, you know it will sell, what ever stuff is in it: Pray you therefore accept this as a New-Years Gift, for I have nothing else to send you. Let me hear from you as soon as you can, and direct your Letter for Mr. Crack-fart, Lodging at Old Sawny's the Bagg-pipe-Maker, in the High-Street in Edinborow.
Printed for N. F. in the Year, 1681.