If my opinion is of any worth, the fieldfare is the greatest
delicacy among birds, the hare among quadrupeds.

If my opinion is of any worth, the fieldfare is the greatest
delicacy among birds, the hare among quadrupeds.

Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.

Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.

All sorrows are good (or are less) with bread.
[Sp., Todos los duelos con pan son buenos (or son read more

All sorrows are good (or are less) with bread.
[Sp., Todos los duelos con pan son buenos (or son menos).]

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.

"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me read more

"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow Tree,
A Crust of Bread, and Liberty."

'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.

Your supper is like the Hidalgo's dinner; very little meat, and a
great deal of tablecloth.

Your supper is like the Hidalgo's dinner; very little meat, and a
great deal of tablecloth.

But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, read more

But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attired, swoon, I think,
To show myself a glass.