I[15] must purge and clyster after this; and my next letter will not be in the old order of journal, till I have done with physic.  An’t oo surprised to see a letter want half a side?

LETTER 45.[1]

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[2] 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.

LETTER 46.[1]

London, May 10, 1712.

I have not yet ease or humour enough to go on in my journal method, though I have left my chamber these ten days.  My pain continues still in my shoulder and collar:  I keep flannel on it, and rub it with brandy, and take a nasty diet drink.  I still itch terribly, and have some few pimples; I am weak, and sweat; and then the flannel makes me mad with itching; but I think my pain lessens.  A journal, while I was sick, would have been a noble thing, made up of pain and physic, visits, and messages; the two last were almost as troublesome as the two first.  One good circumstance is that I am grown much leaner.  I believe I told you that I have taken in my breeches two inches.  I had your N.29 last night.  In answer to your good opinion of my disease, the doctors said they never saw anything so odd of the kind; they were not properly shingles, but herpes miliaris, and twenty other hard names.  I can never be sick like other people, but always something out of the common way; and as for your notion of its coming without pain, it neither came, nor stayed,