A LETTER SENT BY SIR IOHN SVCKLING FROM France, deploring his sad Estate and flight: VVith a discoverie of the plot and conspiracie, intended By him and his adherents against England.
Imprinted at London. 1641.
A Letter sent by Sir John Suckling from France, Deploring his sad Estate and flight: With a discoverie of the plot and conspiracie, intended by him and his adherents against England.
1 GGoe, dolefull sheete to everie street
Of London round about-a,
And tell 'um all thy masters fall,
That lived bravely mought-a,
2 Sir John in fight as brave a wight,
As the Knight of the Sun-a,
Is forced to goe away with woe
And from his countrie run-a,
3 Vnhappy stars to breed such iars,
That England's chief Sucklin-a,
Should prove of late the scorn of fate
And fortunes unlucklin-a,
4 But ye may see inconstancie
In all things under heaven-a:
When God withdrawes his gracious lawes
We run at sixe and seven-a,
5 Alas, alas, how things doe passe?
[Page 2] What bootes a handsome face-a,
A prettie Wit and legges to it
Not seasond well with grace-a?
6 I that in court have made such sport
As never yet was found-a,
And tickled all both great and small
The Maides of honour round-a.
7 I that did play both night and day
And revelled here and there-a,
Had change of suits, made layes to lutes
And bluster'd everie where-a:
8 I that could write and well indite
As 'tis to Ladies known-a,
And bore the praise for songs and playes
Far more then were mine owne-a:
9 I that did lend and yearly spend
Thousands out of my purse-a,
And gave the King a wondrous thing,
At once a hundred horse-a,
10 Blest providence that kept my sense
So well, that I fond else-a,
Should chance to hit to have the wit.
To keepe one for my selfe-a,
11 I that marcht forth, into the North,
And vent up hills a main-a
With sword and lance like King of France,
And so came downe againe-a.
12 I that have done such things, the Sun
And Moone did never see-a,
Yet now poore Iohn a poxe, upon
[Page 3] The fates, is faine to flee-a.
13 And for the brave, I us'd to have
In all I wore or eate-a
Accurssed chance to spoyle the dance,
I scarce have clothes or meate-a
13 Could not the plot, By which I got
Such credit in the play-a
Aglaura bright that Persian wight,
My roving fancie stay-a,
15 But I must flie at things so high,
Above me not allow'd-a?
And I Sir John, like Ixion.
For Juno kisse a cloud-a?
16 Would I had burn'd it, when I turn'd it
Out of a Comedie-a:
There was an omen in the nomen
(I feare of Tragedie-a,
17 Which is at last upon me cast
And I proclaim'd a sott-a
For thinking to with English doe
As with a Persian plot-a
18 But now I finde with griefe of minde
What will not me availe-a,
That plots in iest are ever best,
When plots in earnest faile-a.
19 Why could not I in time espie
My errour; but whats worse-a,
Vnhappy vermin must bring in Iermin
The master of the horse-a
20 The valiant Percie God have mercie
'Vpon his noble soule-a;
Though hee be wise by my advice
Was in the plot most foule-a
21 The wittie poet (Let all know it)
Davenant by name-a,
In this designe, that I call mine,
I utterlie disclaime-a
22 Though he can write, he cannot fight,
And bravely take a fort-a:
Nor can he smell a proiect well,
His nose, it is to short-a.
23 Tis true wee met, in counsell set,
And plotted here in prose-a,
And what he wanted, it is granted,
Abridge made of his nose-a,
24 But to impart it to his art,
Wee had made prittie stuffe-a
No, for the plot, that we had got,
One Poet was enough-a.
25 Which had not fate and prying state
Crusht in the very wombe-a,
We had ere long by power strong,
Made England but one tombe-a.
26 Oh what a fright had bred that sight,
When Ireland, Scotland, France-a,
Within the wall of London all
In severall troopes should prance-a.
27 When men quarter'd, woman slaught [...]
In heapes everie where-a,
So thick should lie, the enemie
The very sight should scare-a.
28 That they afraid of what they made,
A streame of blood so high-a,
For safety fled Should mount the dead
And unto heaven get nigh-a.
29 The scarlet gowne and best i'th towne
Each other would bewaile-a
That their shut purse had brought this curse,
That did so much prevaile-a.
30 Each Alderman in his own chaine,
Being hang'd up like a dog-a,
And all the city without pitty,
Made but one bloody bog-a.
31 The Irish Kerne in battell sterne
For all their faults so foul-a:
Pride, use, ill gaine, and want of braine,
Teaching them how to howle-a.
32 No longer then the fine women
The Scots would praise and trust-a:
The wanton Dames being burnt in flames
Far hotter then their lust-a.
33 But too too late lament their fate,
And miserie deplore-a
By the French knocks having got a pox,
Worse then they had before-a.
34 Infants unborne should scape the horne
By being murther'd then-a;
Which they were sure if life indure
To have when they were men-a.
35 The precise frie, that now mounts high,
Full lowe we cast their Lot-a,
And all that thinke it sin to drinke,
[Page 6] We doom'd unto the pot-a.
36 The Parliament is fully bent.
To roote up Bishops cleane-a,
To raze their fort and spoile their sport
Wee did intend and meane-a.
31 With many things confusion bringes
To Kingdoms in an hour-a,
To burne up tillage sack and pillage
And handsome maides deflour-a.
38 But Argus eye did soon espy
What we so much did trust-a.
And to our shame and love of fame
Our plot laid in the dust-a.
39 And had we staid, I am affraid
That their Briarian hand-a
Had struct us dead (who now are fled)
And ceised all our land-a.
40 But thanks to heaven, three of the seven,
That were the plotters chiefe-a,
Have led to France their wits a dance
To finde out a reliefe-a.
41 But Davenant shakes and Buttons makes
As strongly with his breech-a.
As hee ere long did with his tongue
Make many a bombast speech-a.
42 But yet we hope hee'le scape the rope,
That now him so doth fright-a:
Th [...] Parliament being content
That he this fact should write-a.
I. S. K.
From Paris. Iune, 16. 1641.
Finis.