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Updated: June 28, 2025
True, there was nothing in the Parliamentary army so gorgeous as Sir John Suckling's troop in Scotland, with their white doublets and scarlet hats and plumes; but that bright company substituted the white feather for the red one, in 1639, and rallied no more. Yet even the Puritans came to battle in attire which would have seemed preposterously gaudy to the plain men of our own Revolution.
John Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire, imitating Suckling's "Session of the Poets," brings all the versifiers of the time into the canvas, and after humorously dispatching one after another, not sparing himself, closes,
Lovelace's Lucasta, a volume of love lyrics, is generally on a higher plane than Suckling's work; and a few of the poems like "To Lucasta," and "To Althea, from Prison," deserve the secure place they have won. Shakespeare and Milton are the two figures that tower conspicuously above the goodly fellowship of men who have made our literature famous.
Halls which is my little Roman-nose black girl, that is mighty pretty: she is usually called Betty. Knipp made us stay in a box and see the dancing preparatory to to-morrow for "The Goblins," a play of Suckling's, not acted these twenty-five years; which was pretty; and so away thence, pleased with this sight also, and specially kissing of Nell. We away, Mr.
Marvellous to say, his own words failed him, and he had recourse to the poets: "Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light; But, oh, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight." The lines, he told me, were Sir John Suckling's; and he gave them standing, in excellent voice and elegant gesture.
"We none of us nod to the professionals in this line; and I won't exchange salutes with an amateur. I'm peculiar. He chose to be absent on the right day last year; so from that date; I consider him absent in toto; "none of your rrrrr m reckonings, let's have the rrrrr m toto;" you remember Suckling's story of the Yankee fellow? Bye-bye; shall see you the day after to-morrow.
"Ah, but this mouse had a poetic licence." "Look it up." "I will." The book was taken from within two inches of where he sat. "'Shrieked' it is." It amused him vastly, for he had never shrieked in his life. "Do you like mice?" It was the first voice speaking again. "Hate them smelly little things." "Do you remember that thing of Suckling's?
At this point I could not forbear interrupting Grannie to ask her whether she had ever heard of a poem called A Ballad upon a Wedding. She said she had not, so I quoted to her Suckling's well-known lines: Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they feared the light. But O! she dances such a way, No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
"He that pursues an act that is attended With doubtful issues, for the means, had need Of policy and force to make it speed." T. NABB's Unfortunate Mother. "Joy never feasts so high, As when the first course is of misery." SUCKLING's Aglaura. It was Friday, and the next morning was the when the reports were to be presented.
But the doctor and the nurses thought well to interpret the little suckling's discourse as a desire to go back to his mother.
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