TO HARRY PLACIDE.
My dear Harry:—
You have been, in your day and mine, as good as a
thousand comedies to me. Why should I not endeavor
to requite you, after a very poor fashion of my own?
Yet will you not know, any more than the Custom-House,
when some repenting sinner of an importer
makes anonymous restoration of defrauded dues, whose
conscience it is from which this poor acknowledgment
is drawn. It is, you may be sure, a very sincere one,
coupled with the single misgiving that my little “Comedy”
will scarcely prove half so agreeable to you, as
yours has ever been to me. Nevertheless, you excellent
wretch, be you grateful with the philosophy of Sancho,
and look not the gift-horse too narrowly in the mouth.
