SIR,—­You are more in my debt than you imagine.  I never deserved a long letter so much as now, when you sent me a short one.  I could tell you such a story (’tis too long to be written) as would make you see (what I never discover’d in myself before) that I am a valiant lady.  In earnest, we have had such a skirmish, and upon so foolish an occasion, as I cannot tell which is strangest.  The Emperor and his proposals began it; I talked merrily on’t till I saw my brother put on his sober face, and could hardly then believe he was in earnest.  It seems he was, for when I had spoke freely my meaning, it wrought so with him as to fetch up all that lay on his stomach.  All the people that I had ever in my life refused were brought again upon the stage, like Richard the III.’s ghosts, to reproach me withal; and all the kindness his discoveries could make I had for you was laid to my charge.  My best qualities (if I have any that are good) served but for aggravations of my fault, and I was allowed to have wit and understanding and discretion in other things, that it might appear I had none in this.  Well, ’twas a pretty lecture, and I grew warm with it after a while; in short, we came 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.