The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 12/From Matthew Prior to Jonathan Swift - 11


WESTMINSTER, FEB. 28, 1720-21.

IF I am to chide you for not writing to me, or beg your pardon that I have not writ to you, is a question; for our correspondence has been so long interrupted, that I swear I do not know which of us wrote last. In all cases, I assure you of my continual friendship, and kindest remembrance of you; and with great pleasure, expect the same from you. I have been ill this winter. Age, I find, comes on; and the cough does not diminish.

Non sum qualis eram bonæ
Sub Regno Cynaræ ——— Pass for that.

I am tired with politicks, and lost in the South Sea. The roaring of the waves, and the madness of the people, were justly put together. I can send you no sort of news, that holds either connexion or sense. It is all wilder than St. Anthony's dream; and the bagatelle is more solid than any thing, that has been endeavoured here this year. Our old friend Oxford is not well, and continues in Herefordshire. John of Bucks[1] died last night, and Conningsby was sent last night to the Tower. I frequently drink your health with lord Harley, who is always the same good man, and grows daily more beloved as more universally known. I do so too with our honest good natured friend Ford, whom I love for many good reasons, and particularly for that he loves you. As to the subscriptions, in which I have given you a great deal of trouble already, to make the rest of that trouble less, I desire you to send the enclosed letter to Mr. Hyde, that he may raze out the names of those gentlemen who have taken out their books, and take what convenient care he can of the remaining books. And as to the pecuniary part, I find no better way than that you will remit it, as you did the former sum, by bill of exchange. Mr. Ford likewise judges this the best, and securest method.

How do you do as to your health? Ave we to see you this summer? Answer me these questions. Give my service to all friends, and believe me to be ever, with great truth and esteem, dear sir, your's,