Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 12.djvu/60

48 wherein I can be serviceable to that gentleman, for whom nobody has a greater esteem, than your most faithful humble servant,

CON. PHIPPS.

DEAR SIR,

F 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 died last night, and Conningsby was sent last