LONDON, _April_ 24, 1712.
I HAD your twenty-eighth two or three days ago. I can hardly answer it
now. Since my last I have been extremely ill. ’Tis this day just a
month since I felt a small pain on the tip of my left shoulder, which
grew worse, and spread for six days; then broke all out by my collar and
left side of my neck in monstrous red spots inflamed, and these grew to
small pimples. For four days I had no rest, nor nights, for a pain in my
neck; then I grew a little better; afterward, where my pains were, a
cruel itching seized me, beyond whatever I could imagine, and kept me
awake several nights. I rubbed it vehemently, but did not scratch it:
then it grew into three or four great sores like blisters, and run; at
last I advised the doctor to use it like a blister, so I did with melilot
{436b} plasters, which still run: and am now in pain enough, but am daily
mending. I kept my chamber a fortnight, then went out a day or two, but
then confined myself again. Two days ago I went to a neighbour to dine,
but yesterday again kept at home. To-day I will venture abroad a little,
and hope to be well in a week or ten days. I never suffered so much in
my life. I have taken my breeches in above two inches, so I am leaner,
which answers one question in your letter. The weather is mighty fine.
I write in the morning, because I am better then. I will go and try to
walk a little. I will give DD’s certificate to Tooke to-morrow.
Farewell, MD MD MD, ME ME, FW FW ME ME.