Shall I compare
thee to a wet dog?
Thou art more
patient and smell better.
Rough movements do
shake the darling masses of water in your fur,
And Summer’s
heat hath made thou stinky like a gutter,
Sometimes too
smelly that the nose of one declines,
And often is his
golden fur dampened and dimmed;
Sometimes when
filled with sweat every hair from hair shines,
By chance or
nature’s changing course the smelly thing is left untrimmed.
But thy eternal
wetness shall not fade,
Nor lose possession
of that foul odour thou ow’st;
Nor shall thou
wand’rest in perfume’s shade,
Even when in thy
fur do fleas grow’est.
So long as men
can breath, or noses can smell,
So long drips
this, and gives an odour to rebel.
