so
near an absolute falling out, that 'twas time to give over, and we said
so much then that we have hardly spoken a word together since. But 'tis
wonderful to see what curtseys and legs pass between us; and as before
we were thought the kindest brother and sister, we are certainly the
most complimental couple in England. 'Tis a strange change, and I am
very sorry for it, but I'll swear I know not how to help it. I look
upon't as one of my great misfortunes, and I must bear it, as that which
is not my first nor likely to be my last. 'Tis but reasonable (as you
say) that you should see me, and yet I know not now how it can well be.
I am not for disguises, it looks like guilt, and I would not do a thing
I durst not own. I cannot tell whether (if there were a necessity of
your coming) I should not choose to have it when he is at home, and
rather expose him to the trouble of entertaining a person whose company
(here) would not be pleasing to him, and perhaps an opinion that I did
it purposely to cross him, than that your coming in his absence should
be thought a concealment. 'Twas one reason more than I told you why I
resolv'd not to go to Epsom this summer, because I knew he would imagine
it an agreement between us, and that something besides my spleen carried
me thither; but whether you see me or not you may be satisfied I am safe
enough, and you are in no danger to lose your prisoner, since so great a
violence as this has not broke her chains. You will have nothing to
thank me for after this; my whole life will not yield such another
occasion to let you see at what rate I value your friendship, and I have
been much better than my word in doing but what I promised you, since I
have found it a much harder thing not to yield to the power of a near
relation, and a greater kindness than I could then imagine it.

To let you see I did not repent me of the last commission, I'll give you
another. Here is a seal that Walker set for me, and 'tis dropt out; pray
give it him to mend. If anything could be wonder'd at in this age, I
should very much how you came by your informations. 'Tis more than I
know if Mr. Freeman be my servant. I saw him not long since, and he told
me no such thing. Do you know him? In earnest, he's a pretty gentleman,
and has a great deal of good nature, I think, which may oblige him
perhaps to speak well of his acquaintances without design. Mr. Fish is
the Squire of Dames, and has so many mistresses that anybod