s.
Had I been silent as
a Stoick,
Or had I writ in
Verse Heroick,
Then had I been a
Stark Ass.

Old _Homer_ wrote of
Frogs and Mice,
And _Rabblaies_ wrote of
Nits and Lice,
And _Virgil_ of
a Flye:
One wrote the Treatise
of the Fox,
Another prais'd the
Frenchman's Pox,
Whose praise was but
a Lye.

Great _Alexander_ had
a Horse,
A famous Beast of
mighty force
Yecleap'd _Buce-_
_phalus_:
He was a stout and
sturdy Steed,
And of an exc'lent Race
and Breed,
But that concerns
not us.

I list not write the
Baby praise
Of Apes, or Owls, or
Popingeys,
Or of the Cat
_Grammalkin:_
But of a true and trusty
Dog,
Who well could fawn,
But never cog,
His Praise my Pen must
walk in.

And _Drunkard_ he is
falsely nam'd,
For which that Vice he
ne'er was blam'd,
For he Loves not God
_Bacchus_:
The Kitchin he esteems
more dear,
Than Cellars full of
Wine or Beer,
Which oftentimes doth
wreck us.

He is no Mastiff, huge
of Lim,
Or Water-spaniel, that
can Swim,
Nor Blood-Hound nor
no Setter:
No Bob-tail Tyke, or
Trundle-tayl,
Nor can he Partridge spring
or Quail,
But yet he is much
better.

No Dainty Ladies
fisting-Hound,
That lives upon our
_Britain_ Ground,
Nor Mungrel Cur or
Shogh:
Should Litters or whole
Kennels dare,
With Honest _Drunkard_
to compare,
My Pen writes, _marry
fough_.

The Otter-Hound, the
Fox-Hound, nor
The swift Foot Grey-Hound
car'd he for,
Nor _Cerberus_ Hell's
Bandogg;
His Service proves them
Curs and Tikes,
And his Renown a
Terror strikes,
In Water-Dog and
Land-Dog.

'Gainst brave _Buquoy_ or
stout _Dampiere_,
He durst have Bark'd
without Fear,
Or 'gainst the hot
Count _Tilly_:
At _Bergen_ Leaguer and
_Bredha_,
Against the Noble
_Spinola_,
He shew'd himself not
silly.

He serv'd his Master
at commands,
In the most Warlike
_Netherlands_,
In _Holland_, _Zeeland_,
_Brabant_:
He to him still was
true and just,
And if his fare were but
a Crust,
He patiently would