Swift.    

	Let Hercules himself do what he may,
	The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.

Shakespeare.    

	I am his highness’ dog at Kew;
	Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Pope.    

	Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
	For God hath made them so;
	Let bears and lions growl and fight,
	For ’tis their nature to.

Watts.    

	And in that town a dog was found,
	As many dogs there be,
	Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound,
	And curs of low degree.

Goldsmith.    

	I have a dog of Blenheim birth,
	With fine long ears and full of mirth;
	And sometimes, running o’er the plain,
	He tumbles on his nose:
	But quickly jumping up again
	Like lightning on he goes!

Ruskin.    

	Ay, in the catalogue, ye go for men;
	As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
	Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are ’clept
	All by the name of dogs: the valued file
	Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
	The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
	According to the gift which bounteous nature
	Hath in him closed.

Shakespeare.    

	We are two travelers, Roger and I.
	Roger’s my dog—come here, you scamp!
	Jump for the gentleman—mind your eye!
	Over the table—look out for the lamp!
	The rogue is growing a little old;
	Five years we’ve tramped through wind and weather,
	And slept out-doors when nights were cold,
	And ate and drank and starved together.

John T. Trowbridge.