The consummate pleasure (in eating) is not in the costly flavour,
but in yourself. Do you seek for sauce read more

The consummate pleasure (in eating) is not in the costly flavour,
but in yourself. Do you seek for sauce for sweating?

God never sendeth mouth but he sendeth meat.

God never sendeth mouth but he sendeth meat.

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.]

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.

You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

When mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food
It ennobled our hearts and enriched our blood--
Our read more

When mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food
It ennobled our hearts and enriched our blood--
Our soldiers were brave and our courtiers were good.
Oh! the roast beef of England.
And Old England's roast beef.

As long as I have fat turtle-doves, a fig of your lettuce, my
friend, and you may keep your read more

As long as I have fat turtle-doves, a fig of your lettuce, my
friend, and you may keep your shell-fish to yourself. I have no
wish to waste my appetite.

Though your threshing floor grind a hundred thousand bushels of
corn, not for that reason will your stomach hold read more

Though your threshing floor grind a hundred thousand bushels of
corn, not for that reason will your stomach hold more than mine.
[Lat., Millia frumenti tua triverit area centum.
Non tuus hinc capiet venter plus ac meus.]

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!