sense; therefore you can't write to those that love you, as well as any Clogher or Addison of them all. You have lost your reputation here, and that of your bastard, the Tatler, is going too; and there is no way left to recover either, but your writing. Well! 'tis no matter; I'll e'en leave London. Kingsmill is dead, and you don't write to me. Adieu.
I WAS in the country when I received your letter with the Apology enclosed in it[1]; and I had neither health nor humour to finish that business. But the blame rests with you, that if you thought it time, you did not print it when you had it. I have just now your last, with the complete Key. I believe it is so perfect a Grubstreet piece, it will be forgotten in a week. But it is strange that there can be no satisfaction against a bookseller for publishing names in so bold a manner. I wish some lawyer could advise you how I might have satisfaction: for at this rate, there is no book, however vile, which may not be fastened on me. I cannot but think that little parson-cousin[2] of mine is at the bottom of this; for, having lent him a copy of
- ↑ The Apology prefixed to the Tale of a Tub.
- ↑ Mr. Thomas Swift, rector of Puttenham in Surrey, chaplain to sir William Temple, and first cousin to the celebrated dean of St. Patrick's, being the only son of his uncle Thomas.
