_Tob. dog._ A dirty name indeed, you are not pure enough for my company, besides I hear on both sides of my eares that you are a Laplander, or Fin land Dog, or truly no better than a Witch in the shape of a white Dogge. * * * * * _Tob. Dog._ You are of _Brackley_ breed, better to hang than to keep. _ Pr. Rup. Dog._ No, Sirrah, I am of high Germain breed; _Tob. Dog._ Thou art a Reprobate, and a lying Curre; you were either whelpt in Lapland, or else in Fin land; where there is none but divells and Sorcerers live." This supernatural idea seems to have had its rise in Boy's accompanying his master always, even on the battlefield, enjoying a marvellous immunity from harm. There is a very similar engraving to the accompanying, in a chap-book of "The History of the Blind Begger of Bednal Green" [38], where it does duty for "Young Monford Riding to the Wars, where he unhapily lost his Eye sight."[F. 65] And I have no doubt but that in this present work the engraving to "The Poets Dream" is an old woodcut of Prince Rupert and his dog Boy. [37.] [Illustration: Dauentry ... Brimidgham] In another tract of the time [39] are plentiful allusions to his being a witch. "Grumbling Sir, or counterfeit Lapland Lady, I admire thy impudence in calling thyself a Lady: Art thou a Lady and hast so much haire?... Thou wouldst be a rough bed fellow for the Divell himself; if thou art not a Divell thyself, thou hast conditions sutable to thy shape, for thou doest snarle and bite at the Parliament, and hast learnt that quality from other Popish Dogs; good thou canst do none to the Prince, for that is contrary to the nature of a Witch, which in some respects thou unjustly doest assume, but in other conditions most fitly, for a Witch will dine or suppe with a roasted crab squittering in the fire, or with a few boild Onions and a draught of Buttermilke which one of her neighbours gave her for fear more than for love, but thou doest fare most deliciously of the rumps and wings of Capons, and Kidneys, and art indeed better fed than taught. Besides a Witch will lie upon an old straw bed with her house Cat which seems instead of her bed fellow. But the Kings chair of state and all the embroydered velvet stools are thy day couches, where thou lyest and sleepest with thy malignant eyes half open, and canst winke at small and great faults as thou doest for occasion. But then thou art a Witch again in some conditions, for they are overgrown with ugly gray hair which hangs down about their shoulders, and so art thou, _Boy_. Witches are ready to doe mischief, but can do no good, and such are thy malignant qualities, _Boy_; Pardon me, for though our gracious King loves thee, it is not as thou art a Witch but as thou art Prince _Robert's_ dog." And this attack on poor _Boy_ winds up with calling him "a very cowardly malignant cur," though he look like a lion.