The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Letter from Elizabeth Germain to Jonathan Swift - 27
FROM LADY BETTY GERMAIN.
IF you are not angry with me for my long silence, I take it ill, and need make no excuse; and if you are angry, then I would not willingly make you sorry too, which I know you will be, when I tell you, that I was laid up at Knowle with a severe fit of the gout. And since that infallible cure for all diseases, which all great fools and talkers wish joy of, I have never been quite well, but have had continually some disorder or other upon me, which made my head and spirits unfit for writing, or indeed doing any thing I should; and am still so much out of order, that I am under great apprehensions I shall not be able to go, next year, part of the journey to Ireland with their graces; which is also part of the road to Drayton, where I intend to stay till November, in hopes that summer deferred its coming till I was there; for I am sure, hitherto, we have had little but winter weather.
I am glad matters are settled between his grace of Dorset and you; and I dare answer, as you are both right thinkers, and of course upright actors, there wants but little explanation between you; since I, that am the go between, can easily find out, that he has as sincere a value for you, as you have for him, I do assure you I am extremely delighted, that since lady Suffolk would take a master (commonly called a husband) she chose my brother George: for if I am not partial to him, which indeed I do not know that I am, his sincere value, love, and esteem for her, must make him a good one.
We are now full of expectation of his royal highness's wedding[1]. She has jewels bought for her, and clothes bespoke; and a gallery of communication is making between his apartment and St. James's; but as I do not love to pry into mysteries of state, I do not at all know when the lady will come over.
Your friend Mrs. Floyd is grown fat and well, under the duchess of Dorset's care and direction at Knowle; and my saucy niece is gone for a few days (and I verily believe as far as she can decently help) to her father's. Our friend Curll has again reprinted what he called our letters, as a proper third part of Mr. Pope's. He should have made those bitter silly verses on me to have been his too, instead of sir William Trumbull’s, whom they just as much belonged to. But you patriots are so afraid of suppressing the press, that every body must suffer under that, and the lies of the newspapers, without hopes of redress. Adieu, my dear dean.