r,
Adorn'd with all the Flowers of _May_,
Whose various sweets perfume the Air.

_A_ DOG _of_ WAR:

_Or, The Travels of _DRUNKARD, _the famous Curr of the Round
_WOOLSTAPLE _in_ WESTMINSTER. _His Services in the_ NETHERLANDS, _and
lately in _FRANCE, _with his return home._

_The_ ARGUMENT.

_An Honest, Well-knowing, and well-known Souldier, (whose Name for
some Reasons I conceal) dwelt lately in _Westminster, _in the round
Woolstaple, he was a Man only for Action, but such Actions as Loyalty
did always justifie, either for his Prince, Country, or their dear and
near Friends or Allies, in such noble designs he would and did often
with Courage and good Approvement employ himself in the Low-countries,
having always with him a little black Dog, whom he called_ Drunkard;
_which Curr would (by no means) ever forsake or leave him. But lately
in these French Wars, the Dog being in the Isle of_ RHEA, _where his
Master (valiantly fighting) was Unfortunately slain, whose death was
griev'd for by as many as knew him; and as the Corps lay dead, the
poor loving Masterless Dog would not forsake it, until an English
Souldier pull'd off his Masters Coat, whom the Dog followed to a Boat,
by which means he came back to_ Westminster, _where he now remains.
Upon whose Fidelity, (for the love I owed his deceased Master) I have
writ these following Lines, to express my Addiction to the Proverb,_
Love me and Love my Dog.

To the Reader.

_Reader if you expect_
_from hence_,
_An overplus of Wit_
_or Sence_,
_I deal with no such_
_Traffique:_

Heroicks _and_
Iambicks _I_,
_My Buskinde Muse hath_
_laid them by_,
_Pray be content with_
Saphicke.

Drunkard _the Dog my_
_Patron is_,
_And he doth love me_
_well for this_,
_Whose Love I take for_
_Guerdon_;

_And he's a Dog of_ Mars
_his Train_
_Who hath seen Men and_
_Horses slain_,
_The like was never_
_heard on._

DRUNKARD _or the faithful Dog of War._

[Music]

Stand clear, my Masters
'ware your Shins,
For now to Bark my
Muse begins,
Tis of a Dog, I
write now:
Yet let me tell you
for excuse,
That Muse or Dog, or
Dog or Muse,
Have no intent to
bite now.

In Doggrel Rhimes my
Lines are writ,
As for a Dog I thought
it fit,
And fitting best his
Carkas