Fools make feasts, and wise men eat them.

Fools make feasts, and wise men eat them.

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.

Trust no one unless you have eaten much salt with him.
[Lat., Nemini fidas, nisi cum quo prius multos read more

Trust no one unless you have eaten much salt with him.
[Lat., Nemini fidas, nisi cum quo prius multos modios salis
absumpseris.]

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.

Gluttony kills more than the sword, and is the kindler of all
evils.
[Lat., Gula plures occidit quam read more

Gluttony kills more than the sword, and is the kindler of all
evils.
[Lat., Gula plures occidit quam gladius, estque fomes omnium
malorum.]

A cherefull looke makes a dish a feast.
[A cheerful look makes a dish a feast.]

A cherefull looke makes a dish a feast.
[A cheerful look makes a dish a feast.]

If you wish to grow thinner, diminish your dinner,
And take to light claret instead of pale ale;
read more

If you wish to grow thinner, diminish your dinner,
And take to light claret instead of pale ale;
Look down with an utter contempt upon butter,
And never touch bread till its toasted--or stale.

"Good, well-dress'd turtle beats them hollow,--
It almost makes me wish, I vow,
To have two stomachs, read more

"Good, well-dress'd turtle beats them hollow,--
It almost makes me wish, I vow,
To have two stomachs, like a cow!"
And lo! as with the cud, an inward thrill
Upheaved his waistcoat and disturb'd his frill,
His mouth was oozing, and he work'd his jaw--
"I almost that that I could eat one raw."

The poor man will praise it so hath he good cause,
That all the year eats neither partridge not read more

The poor man will praise it so hath he good cause,
That all the year eats neither partridge not quail,
But sets up his rest and makes up his feast,
With a crust of brown bread and a pot of good ale.