An Epistle to the Reverend Mr. Evan Pritchard of — in Glamorganshire, on the Non-performance of a Promise, to…

Friend, with regard to this same Hare, Am I to hope, or to despair? By punctual Post the Letter came, With Evan's Hand, and Pritchard's Name. Yet there appear'd for Love or Money, Nor Hare, nor Leveret, nor Coney.

Say, my dear Evan,—has my Lord Like other great Men kept his Word? Or have you been deceiv'd by 'Squire? Or has your Poacher lost his Wire? Or in some unpropitious Hole, Instead of Puss trepan'd a Mole? Tell me, thou Son of Great Cadwallader, Had'st thou an Hare, or hast thou swallow'd her?

But now methinks I hear you say— —And shake your Head—"Ah! Well-a-day! "Painful Pre-eminence to be wise, "We Wits have such short Memories!— "Oh! that the Act were not in Force! "A Horse!—My Kingdom for a Horse! "To love, yet be denied the Sport— "Oh! for a Friend or two at Court! "God knows, there's scarce three Men of Quality, "In all our peerless Principality.

But hold! — for on his Country joking To a warm Welchman's most provoking. So Truce with your Reflections national, And to the Point in Order rational.

As for poor Puss — upon my Honour, I never set my Heart upon her; But any Gift from Friend to Friend, Is pleasing in its Aim and End. I, like the Cock, would spurn a Jewel, Sent by th' Unkind, th' Unjust, or Cruel. But honest Pritchard! — sure, from him, A Barley-corn had been a Gem. Pleas'd therefore had I been and proud, And prais'd thy gen'rous Soul aloud, If 'stead of Hare (but do not blab it) You'd only sent me a Welch Rabbit.