To ease his hunger’s griping pains,
Ragged as courtier in disgrace,
Hide-bound, and lean, and out of case,
By chance a well-fed Dog espy’d,
And being kin, and near ally’d,
He civilly salutes the cur:
“How do you, Cuz? Your servant, sir.
O happy friend! how gay thy mien!
How plump thy sides, how sleek thy skin!
Triumphant plenty shines all o’er,