Free livers on a small scale; who are prodigal within the compass
of a guinea.

Free livers on a small scale; who are prodigal within the compass
of a guinea.

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.

I almost die for food, and let me have it!

I almost die for food, and let me have it!

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).]

A stomach that is seldom empty despises common food.
[Lat., Jejunus raro stomachus vulgaria temnit.]

A stomach that is seldom empty despises common food.
[Lat., Jejunus raro stomachus vulgaria temnit.]

"Pray take them, Sir,--Enough's a Feast;
Eat some, and pocket up the rest."

"Pray take them, Sir,--Enough's a Feast;
Eat some, and pocket up the rest."

Man is a carnivorous production,
And must have meals, at least one meal a day;
He cannot read more

Man is a carnivorous production,
And must have meals, at least one meal a day;
He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction,
But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey;
Although his anatomical construction
Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way,
Your laboring people think beyond all question,
Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion.

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.

Oh, herbaceous treat!
'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat;
Back to the world he'd turn his read more

Oh, herbaceous treat!
'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat;
Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul,
And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl;
Serenely full the epicure would say,
"Fate cannot harm me,--I have dined to-day."