Against Momus, in praise of his dogge Bungey

BEcause a witty Writer of this time,
Doth make some mention in a pleasant rime,
Of Lepidus and of his famous dogge,
Thou Momus, that dost loue to scoffe and cogge,
Prat'st amongst base companions and giue'st out,
That vnto me herein, is meant aflout.
Hate makes thee blinde, Momus, I dare be sworne,
He meant to me his loue, to thee his scorne,
Put on thy enuious spectacles and see,
Whom doth he scorne therein, the dogge or mee:
The Dogge is grac't, compared with great Bankes,
Both beasts right famous, for their pretty prankes,
Although in this, I grant, the dogge was worse,
He onely fed my pleasure, not my purse:
Yet that same Dogge, I may say this and boast it,
He found my purse with gold when I haue lost it.
Now for my selfe, some fooles like thee may iudge,
That at the name of Lepidus I grudge,
No sure: so farre I thinke it from disgrace,
I wisht it cleare to me and to my race:
Lepus or Lepos, I in both haue part,
That in my name I beare, this in mine heart.
But, Momus, I perswade my selfe that no man,
Will deigne thee such a name, English or Roman,
Ile wage a But of Sack, the best in Bristo,
Who calles me Lepid, I will call him Tristo.