To his Loue that controlde his Dogge for fawning on hir

JN deede (my Deare) you wrong my Dog in this
And shew your selfe to be of crabbed kinde,
That will not let my fawning Whelp to kisse
Your fist, ye faine would shew his Maisters minde:
A Mastife were more fit for such a one,
That can not let hir Louers Dog alone.
He in his kinde for mée did séeme to sue,
That earst did stande so highly in your grace,
His Maisters minde the wittie Spanell knewe,
And thought his woonted Mistresse was in place:
But now at last (good faith) I plainly sée
That Dogs more wise than Women friendly bée.
Wherefore since you so cruelly entreate
My Whelp, not forcing of his fawning chéere,
You shew your selfe with pride to be repleate,
And to your Friend your Nature doth appéere:
The Prouerbe olde is verifide in you,
Loue mée and loue my Dog, and so adue,
Both I and he that siely Beast sustaine
For louing well and bearing faithfull harts,
Despitous checks, and rigorous disdaine,
Where both haue well deserued for our parts,
For Friendship I, for offred seruice hée,
And yet thou neyther loouste the Dog nor mée.