And nearer as they came, a genial savour Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus. Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour.

Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs, When season'd with love, which no rancour disturbs And sweeten'd by all that is sweetest in life Than turbot, bisque, ortolans, eaten in strife! But if, out of humour, and hungry, alone A man should sit down to dinner, each one Of the dishes which the cook chooses to spoil With a horrible mixture of garlic and oil, The chances are ten against one, I must own, He gets up as ill-tempered as when he sat down.

I seem to you cruel and too much addicted to gluttony, when I beat my cook for sending up a bad dinner. If that appears to you too trifling a cause, say for what cause you would have a cook flogged.

Every investigation which is guided by principles of nature fixes its ultimate aim entirely on gratifying the stomach.

A crier of green sauce.

The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.

If your slave commits a fault, do not smash his teeth with your fists; give him some of the (hard) biscuit which famous Rhodes has sent you.

I never strove to rule the roast, She ne'er refus'd to pledge my toast.

Her that ruled the rost in the kitchen.

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit, The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; My mistress made it one upon my cheek: She is so hot because the meat is cold; The meat is cold because you come not home; You come not home because you have no stomach; You have no stomach, having broke your fast; But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, Are penitent for your default to-day.

Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.

To make a ragout, first catch your hare. [Fr., Poure faire un civet, prenez un lievre.]

Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends us cooks.

A cook should double one sense have: for he Should taster for himself and master be.

Of herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.