University of Virginia Library

The Argvment.

Philos of his Dogge doth bragge
For hauing many feates;
The while the Curre vndoes his bagge,
And all his dinner eates.
Willy. Iockie. Philos.
Willy.
Stay, Iockie, let vs rest here by this spring,
And Philos too, since we so well are met;
This spreading Oke will yeeld vs shadowing
Till Phæbus steeds be in the Ocean wet.

Iockie.
Gladly (kind swaine) I yeeld, so thou wilt play,
And make vs merry with a Roundelay.

Philos.
No, Iockie, rather wend we to the wood,
The time is fit, and Filberds waxen ripe,
Let's go and fray the Squirrell from his food;
We will another time heare Willie pipe.

Willie.
But who shall keepe our flockes when we are gone?
I dare not go, and let them feed alone.

Iockie.
Nor I: since but the other day it fell,
Leauing my sheep to graze on yonder plaine,
I went to fill my bottle at the well,
And ere I could return two lambs were slaine.

Philos.
Then was thy dogg ill taught, or else a sleepe;
Such Curres as those shall neuer watch my sheepe.

Willie.
Yet Philos hath a dogg not of the best:
He seemes too lazy, and will take no paines,
More fit to lye at home and take his rest,
Then catch a wandring sheep vpon the plains.

Iockie.
Tis true indeed: and Philos, wot ye what?
I thinke he playes the Fox, he growes so fat!

Philos.

Willie.
Belike your dog came of a Pedlers brood,
Or Philos musicke is exceeding good.

Philos.
I boast not of his kin, nor of my Reed,
(Though of my reed and him I wel may boast)
Yet if you will aduenture that some meed
Shall be to him that is in action most,
As for a Coller of shrill sounding bels
My dog shall striue with yours, or any's els.

Iockie.
Philos, in truth I must confesse your Wagge
(For so you call him) hath of trickes good store,
To steale the vittailes from his maisters bagge
More cunningly I nere saw dogge before.
See, Willy, see! I prithee, Philos, note
How fast thy bread & cheese goes down his throte.

Willie.
Now, Philos, see how mannerly your Curre,
Your well-taught dog, that hath so many trickes,
Deuoures your Dinner.

Philos.
I wish 'twere a burre
To choke the Mungrell!

Iockie.
See how cleane he lickes
Your Butter-boxe; by Pan, I doe not meanly
Loue Philos dog that loues to be so cleanly.

Philos.
Well flouted, Iockie.

Willie.
Philos! run amaine,
For in your scrip hee now hath thrust his head
So farre, he cannot get it forth againe;
See how he blind-fold strags along the mead,
And at your scrip your bottle hangs, I thinke.
He loues your meat, but cares not for your drinke.

Iockie.
I, so it seemes: and Philos now may goe
Vnto the wood, or home for other cheere.

Philos.
Twere better he had neuer seru'd me so:
Sweet meat, sowre sauce, he shal abye it deere.
What, must he be aforehand with his maister?

Willie.
Onely in kindnesse hee would be your taster.

Philos.
Well, Willy, you may laugh, and vrge my spleen;
But by my hooke I sweare he shall it rue,
And had far'd better had hee fasting been.
But I must home for my allowance new.
So farewell, lads. Looke to my fleeced traine
Till my returne.

Iockie.
We will.

Willie.
Make haste againe.