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Yet shall you have to rectify your palate,
An olive, capers, or some better salad
Ushering the read more
Yet shall you have to rectify your palate,
An olive, capers, or some better salad
Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,
If we can get her, full of eggs, and then,
Limons, and wine for sauce: to these a coney
Is not to be despaired of for our money;
And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,
The sky not falling, think we may have larks.
We may live without poetry, music and art;
We may live without conscience, and live without heart;
read more
We may live without poetry, music and art;
We may live without conscience, and live without heart;
We may live without friends; we may live without books;
But civilized man cannot live without cooks.
He may live without books,--what is knowledge but grieving?
He may live without hope,--what is hope but deceiving?
He may live without love,--what is passion but pining?
But where is the man that can live without dining?
Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye
shall eat, or what ye shall read more
Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye
shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye
shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body more
than raiment?
'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
read more
'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
I've ate and can't digest.
The master of art or giver of wit,
Their belly.
The master of art or giver of wit,
Their belly.
O hour, of all hours, the most blesse'd upon earth,
The bless'd hour of our dinners!
O hour, of all hours, the most blesse'd upon earth,
The bless'd hour of our dinners!
For a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he
does of his dinner.
For a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he
does of his dinner.
You praise, in three hundred verses, Sabellus, the baths of
Ponticus, who gives such excellent dinners. You wish to read more
You praise, in three hundred verses, Sabellus, the baths of
Ponticus, who gives such excellent dinners. You wish to dine,
Sabellus, not to bathe.
