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.]

And the whole congregation of the children of Israel murmured
against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness:
And read more

And the whole congregation of the children of Israel murmured
against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness:
And the children of Israel said unto them, Would to God we had
died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by
the flesh pots, and when we did eat bread to the full; for ye
have brought us forth into this wilderness, to kill this whole
assembly with hunger.

Some men are born to feast, and not to fight;
Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honor's field,
read more

Some men are born to feast, and not to fight;
Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honor's field,
Still on their dinner turn--
Let such pot-boiling varlets stay at home,
And wield a flesh-hook rather than a sword.

He that keeps not crust nor crum
Weary of all, shall want some.

He that keeps not crust nor crum
Weary of all, shall want some.

Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.

Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.

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."

A very man--not one of nature's clods--
With human failings, whether saint or sinner:
Endowed perhaps with read more

A very man--not one of nature's clods--
With human failings, whether saint or sinner:
Endowed perhaps with genius from the gods
But apt to take his temper from his dinner.

Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.

Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.

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.