Yea truly, every sort of dogs that be.
Where'er he cometh him his cousins greet,
Yet not for love, but only for the meat,—
In Little Tower Street,
Or opposite the pump on Fish-street Hill,
Or where the Green Man is the Green Man still,
Or where you will:—
It is not he, but, ah! it is the cart
With which his cousins are so loth to part;
(That's nature, bless your heart!)