I am glad that my Adonis hath a sweete tooth in his head.

I am glad that my Adonis hath a sweete tooth in his head.

Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbradings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging read more

Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbradings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred.

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.]

He hath a fair sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the judicious
epicure--and for such a tomb might be read more

He hath a fair sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the judicious
epicure--and for such a tomb might be content to die.

A warmed-up dinner was never worth much.
[Fr., Un diner rechauffe ne valut jamais rien.]

A warmed-up dinner was never worth much.
[Fr., Un diner rechauffe ne valut jamais rien.]

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.

For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as read more

For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive,
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!