First then, Was ever any thing so beautiful? Nothing, certainly, was seen so exquisitely form’d. What Star more lovely than his Forehead? What Snow more white than his Feet? What more delicately turn’d than his Ears? What more curiously polish’d than his Neck? No Arrow of Cupid’s rounder than his Tail: No Dove of Venus’s smoother and softer than his Back. Assuredly, the Goddess of Beauty her self, were she to appear in the Form of a Four-Footed Animal, wou’d assume no other Shape than Favorite’s.
I'd love to find out whose dog he was. No luck so far, alas.From - "Person of quality," A Funeral-oration Upon Favorite, My Lady * * * Lap-dog (London: 1699), p. 4.