To be the food of gods, why then my guests
Had rivall'd those above. I have, in fact,
The power to lavish immortality
On whom I please, or, by my potent art,
To raise the dead, if they but snuff my dishes!
J. A. St. John.
Hegesippus. (Book vii. § 36, p. 455.)
A. I know it, my good friend, much has been said,
And many books been written, on the art
Of cookery; but tell me something new,
Something above the common, nor disturb
My brain with what I've heard so oft before.
B. Peace, and attend, you shall be satisfied—
For I have raised myself, by due degrees,
To the perfection of the art; nor have
I pass'd the last two years, since I have worn
The apron, with so little profit, but
Have given my mind to study all its parts,
T' apply that knowledge to its proper use;
So as to mark the different sorts of herbs;
By proper seas'ning, to give fish the best
And highest relish; and of lentils too,
To note the several sorts. But to the point:
When I am call'd to serve a funeral supper,
The mourners just return'd, silent and sad,
Clothed in funereal habits—I but raise
The cover of my pot, and every face
Assumes a smile, the tears are wash'd away;
Charm'd with the grateful flavour, they believe
They are invited to a wedding feast
A. What, and give such effect, from a poor dish
Of miserable fish, and lentils?
B. Ay;
But this the prelude only, not worth noting;
Let me but have the necessary means,
A kitchen amply stored, and you shall see,
That, like enchantment, I will spread around
A charm as powerful as the siren's voice;
That not a creature shall have power to move
