To Sir Henry Wotton: here's no more News than Virtue; I May as Well

To Sir Henry Wotton: here's no more News than Vi

In this verse epistle addressed to Sir Henry Wotton, John Donne opens by declaring that there is no more news than virtue itself, and that reporting on the habitual dwelling of vice at court would be as pointless as retelling old tales of Calais or Saint Michael. He compares the practice of seeking out vice to the way people walk about to build an appetite and labor merely to sweeten rest, insisting he would deserve God's frown if he haunted court or town for any purpose but to loathe both. He observes that no one there is free from the extremity of vice for any reason other than that the person next to him is still worse. He describes this world's warfare, in which rugged Fate, acting as God's commissary, so thoroughly hates certain people that it marshals their state within the court's squadron; those who stand armed only with plain honesty, wishes, prayers, and simple integrity are like Indians against Spanish hosts. He notes that suspicious boldness belongs to this place, along with the need to have as many ears as everyone else has tongues, being quick to perceive wrongs yet reluctant to acknowledge them. He recalls that in his own youth's giddiest days, when resembling the court was counted a play's highest praise, plays were in fact never so like courts as courts are like plays. He invites his correspondent to join him in jesting at these mimic antics, whose deepest projects and outrageous exploits amount to nothing more than the dull morals of a game of chess. He then remarks that it has now become unfitting to smile at such things, and so he closes, bidding farewell for a while, and noting wryly that "at court" would be the more honest way to describe his situation, rather than "from court."

By John Donne · First published 1633 · Genre: Verse Epistle, Satire, Metaphysical Poetry · 332 words

First lines

Here's no more news than virtue; I may as well / Tell you Calais, or Saint Michael's tales, as tell / That vice doth here habitually dwell.

Yet as, to get stomachs, we walk up and down, / And toil to sweeten rest; so, may God frown, / If, but to loathe both, I haunt court or town.

For, here, no one is from th' extremity / Of vice by any other reason free, / But that the next to him still's worse than he.

In this world's warfare, they whom rugged Fate / (God's commissary) doth so throughly hate, / As in the court's squadron to marshal their state;

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To Sir Henry Wotton: here's no more News than Virtue; I May as Well is listed on Textopian as a poem by John Donne, dated 1633 CE.

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metaphysical-poetry · early-modern-English · epistle · philosophical · seventeenth-century · virtue · critique-of-gossip · epistolary · Renaissance · dedicatory · satire · theological

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