Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 17.djvu/337

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"WORTHY MR. LINTOT,

"YOU and all the neighbours know too well the frenzy, with which my poor man is visited. I never perceived he was out of himself, till that melancholy day, that he thought he was poisoned in a glass of sack; upon this he ran vomiting all over the house, nay, in the new-washed dining-room. Alas! this is the greatest adversity, that ever befel my poor man, since he lost one testicle at school by the bite of a black boar. Good Lord! if he should die, where should I dispose of the stock? unless Mr. Pemberton or you would help a distressed widow: for God knows, he never published any books that lasted above a week, so that if we wanted daily books, we wanted daily bread. I can write no more, for I hear the rap of Mr. Curll's ivory-headed cane upon the counter. —— Pray recommend me to your pastrycook, who furnishes you yearly with tarts in exchange for your paper, for Mr. Curll has disobliged ours since his fits came upon him; — before that, we generally lived upon baked meats. — He is coming in, and I have but just time to put his son out of the way, for fear of mischief: so wishing you a merry Easter, I remain your

"Most humble servant, "C. CURLL."

"P. S. As to the report of my poor husband's stealing o'calf, it is really groundless, for he always binds in sheep." But