News from York: SENT From a country Courtier to his honourable friend in this City.  
Noble Cavalier,  
YOur country Courtier kisses your hands for the favour you did him in your last Epistle, and tells you he is of opinion with the Secretary in my Lord Newcastle's last new play, That the times are dangerous; and therefore shall say nothing but Mum: Letters have miscarried, so may mine; therefore I will send you nothing but tail-paper. Tell the Lincolnshire roundheads I am theirs to be confided in: I know they covet news, therefore I pray tell them the King is here, and so am I, but Mum, no more of that. Several Petitions have been delivered to my sovereign, but what they are, you shall not know. The King hawks much at the Hiern, it's a high flight, but no more of that neither, nor any thing else at this time, only that I am  
Yours, T. K. April 8.