When the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan,
Even before he gets so far
As the place where the clustered palm-trees are,
At the last of the thirty palace-gates
The pet of the harem, Rose-in-Bloom,
Orders a feast in his favorite room--
Glittering square of colored ice,
Sweetened with syrup, tinctured with spice,
Creams, and cordials, and sugared dates,
Syrian apples, Othmanee quinces,
Limes and citrons and apricots,
And wines that are known to Eastern princes.
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Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the
wall-newt and the water; that in the read more
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the
wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the
foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the old rat
and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the standing pool;
who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stock-punished and
imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to
his body,
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear,
But mice and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
Philo swears that he has never dined at home, and it is so; he
does not dine at all, read more
Philo swears that he has never dined at home, and it is so; he
does not dine at all, except when invited out.
What will not luxury taste? Earth, sea, and air,
Are daily ransack'd for the bill of fare.
read more
What will not luxury taste? Earth, sea, and air,
Are daily ransack'd for the bill of fare.
Blood stuffed in skins is British Christians' food,
And France robs marshes of the croaking brood.
Annius has some two hundred tables, and servants for every table.
Dishes run hither and thither, and plates fly read more
Annius has some two hundred tables, and servants for every table.
Dishes run hither and thither, and plates fly about. Such
entertainments as these keep to yourselves, ye pompous; I am ill
pleased with a supper that walks.
And solid pudding against empty praise.
And solid pudding against empty praise.
I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled?
I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled?
He hath a fair sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the judicious
epicure--and for such a tomb might be read more
He hath a fair sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the judicious
epicure--and for such a tomb might be content to die.
Ratons and myse and soche smale dere
That was his mete that vii. yere.
Ratons and myse and soche smale dere
That was his mete that vii. yere.
Oh, dainty and delicious!
Food for the gods! Ambrosia for Apicius!
Worthy to thrill the soul of read more
Oh, dainty and delicious!
Food for the gods! Ambrosia for Apicius!
Worthy to thrill the soul of sea-born Venus,
Or titillate the palate of Silenus!
