He pares his apple that will cleanly feed.

He pares his apple that will cleanly feed.

Their best and most wholesome feeding is upon one dish and no
more and the same plaine and simple: read more

Their best and most wholesome feeding is upon one dish and no
more and the same plaine and simple: for surely this hudling of
many meats one upon another of divers tastes is pestiferous. But
sundrie sauces are more dangerous than that.

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye
shall eat, or what ye shall read more

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye
shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye
shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body more
than raiment?

"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."

Keep a good table and attend to the ladies.
[Fr., Tenez bonne table et soignez les femmes.]

Keep a good table and attend to the ladies.
[Fr., Tenez bonne table et soignez les femmes.]

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.]

I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled?

I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled?

No, Antony, take the lot:
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. read more

No, Antony, take the lot:
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar
Grew faw with feasting there.

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.