SIR JOHN SUCKLING, SON of Sir John Suckling, Knt., of Whitton, in Middlesex (comptroller of the household to James I. and Charles I., member of the privy council, and secretary of state); is Isaid to have been born in 1613. This date, however, seems to be inaccurate; for Mr. Lysons (Env. of Lond. vol. iii.) has given the day of his baptism, from the parish register, four years earlier, viz. Feb. 10, 1608-9. Langbaine, not content with informing us that his birth was delayed to "the beginning of the eleventh month,” (“ according to his mother's reckoning,") adds that his life was not less remarkable, "for he had so pregnant a genius, that he spoke Latin at five years old, and writ it at nine." In the course of his travels he made a campaign under Gustavus Adolphus; during which he was present at three battles, five sieges, and as many skirmishes; but a magnificent regiment of cavalry, raised at his own expense, (12007.) in the beginning of our civil wars, which became equally conspicuous for cowardice and finery, threw a considerable degree of ridicule on his military reputation. His plays have little merit, though Phillips says that in his time they still brought audience to the theatres. But the grace and elegance of his songs and ballads are inimitable: they "have a pretty touch," says the author just quoted, "of a gentle spirit, and seem to savour more of the grape than lamp." His prose writings have been also much admired. He died of a fever, in 1641, aged only thirty-two years. For further particulars, see Cibber's Lives, and Grainger's Biographical History of England. His works were published in 1646, 8vo, and his "Last Remains" in 1659. They have been several times reprinted. SONG. WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her: If of herself she will not love, The devil take her! SONG. HONEST lover whosoever, If in all thy love there ever Was one wavering thought, if thy flame Were not still even, still the same; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If, when she appears i' th' room, Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb, And in striving this to cover Dost not speak thy words twice over ; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If fondly thou dost not mistake, Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken, Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If when thou appear'st to be within, Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. VOL. III. Q If when thy stomach calls to eat, Dost not rise hungry from the place; Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If by this thou dost discover That thou art no perfect lover; And, desiring to love true, Thou dost begin to love anew; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. 'Tis now, since I sat down before That foolish fort, a heart, (Time strangely spent!) a year and more, And still I did my part: Made my approaches, from her hand Unto her lip did rise; And did already understand The language of her eyes: Proceeded on with no less art; When this did nothing, I brought down Great cannon oaths, and shot A thousand thousand to the town, And still it yielded not. I then resolv'd to starve the place, To draw her out and from her strength, I drew all batteries in ; And brought myself to lie, at length, As if no siege had been. When I had done what man could do, The enemy lay quiet too, And smil'd at all was done. I sent to know, from whence, and where, These hopes and this relief? A spy inform'd, Honour was there, And did command in chief. |