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A princely palace on that space does rife
Where Sedley's noble Mufe found mulberries *.
Since places alter thus, what conftant thought
Of filling various dishes can be taught?
For he pretends too much, or is a fool,
Who'd fix those things where fashion is a rule.
King Hardicnute midft Danes and Saxons ftout
Carous'd on nutbrown ale and din'd on grout,
Which dish its pristine honour still retains,
And when each prince is crown'd in splendour reigns.
By Northern custom duty was expreft

To friends departed by their fun'ral feast.

Tho' I've confulted Holinfhed and Stow

I find it very difficult to know

Who, to refresh th' attendants to a grave
Burnt claret first or Naples-biscuit gave.

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Trotter from quince and apples first did frame A pie which still retains his proper name: Tho' common grown, yet with white fugar ftrow'd, And butter'd right, its goodness is allow'd.

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As wealth flow'd in, and plenty fprang from peace, Good humour reign'd, and pleasures found increase. 'Twas usual then the banquet to prolong By mufick's charm and fome delightful fong, Where ev'ry youth in pleasing accents ftrove To tell the ftratagems and cares of love;

A comedy called The Mulberry Garden.

How fome fuccefsful were, how others croft;

Then to the sparkling glass would give his toast, 110
Whofe bloom did most in his opinion shine,

To relish both the mufick and the wine.
Why am I ftyl'd a Cook if I'm fo loth
To marinate my fish or season broth,

Or fend up what I roaft with pleafing froth, 115.
If I my master's gusto won't difcern,

But thro' my bashful folly scorn to learn?

When among friends good humour takes its birth 'Tis not a tedious feaft prolongs the mirth; But it's not reafon therefore you fhould fpare 120 When as their future Burgess you prepare For a fat corporation and their mayor. All things fhould find their room in proper place, And what adorns this treat would that difgrace. Sometimes the vulgar will of mirth partake, And have exceffive doings at their wake: Ev'n tailors at their yearly feasts look great, And all their cucumbers are turn'd to meat. A prince who in a forest rides astray,

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And weary to fome cottage finds the way,
Talks of no pyramids of fowl or bisks of fish,
But hungry fups his cream ferv'd up in earthen dish;
Quenches his thirst with ale in nut brown bowls,
And takes the hafty rafher from the coals,
Pleas'd as King Henry with the Miller free,
Who thought himself as good a man as he.

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Unless fome fweetnefs at the bottom lie Who cares for all the crinkling of the pie ?

If you would have me merry with your cheer Be fo yourself, or fo at least appear.

The things we eat by various juice control The narrowness or largeness of our foul. Onions will make ev'n heirs or widows weep; The tender lettuce brings on fofter fleep;

Eat beef or piecruft if you'd ferious be ;

Your fhellfish raises Venus from the fea :
For Nature that inclines to ill or good
Still nourishes our paffions by our food.

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Happy the man that has each fortune try'd, To whom the much has given and much deny'd; With abftinence all delicates he fees,

And can regale himself with toast and cheese.
Your betters will defpife you if they fee
Things that are far furpaffing your degree;
Therefore beyond your fubftance never treat:
'Tis plenty in fniall fortune to be neat.
'Tis certain that a steward cann't afford
An entertainment equal with his lord.
Old age is frugal, gay youth will abound
With heat, and fee the flowing cup go round.
A widow has cold pie; nurfe gives you cake;
From gen'rous merchants ham or sturgeon take :
The farmer has brown bread as fresh as day,
And butter fragrant as the dew of May:

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Cornwall fquabpie, and Devon whitepot brings,
And Lei'fter beans and bacon, food of kings!

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At Christmas time be careful of your fame;
See the old tenants' table be the fame;
Then if you would fend up the brawner's head,
Sweet rosemary and bays around it spread;
His foaming tufks let fome large pippin grace,
Or midft thofe thund'ring spears an orange place;
Sauce like himself, offenfive to its foes,

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The roguish mustard, dang'rous to the nose!
Sack and the well-fpic'd Hippocras the wine, 175
Waiffail the bowl with ancient ribands fine,
Porridge with plumbs, and turkeys with the chine..
If you perhaps would try fome dish unknown,
Which more peculiarly you 'd make your own,
Like ancient failors fill regard the coaft;
By vent'ring out too far you may be lost.
By roafting that which your forefathers boil'd,
And boiling what they roasted, much is spoil'd.
That Cook to British palates is complete
Whofe fav'ry hand gives turns to common meat.

Tho' Cooks are often men of pregnant wit,
Thro' nicenefs of their fubject few have writ.
In what an awkward found that ballad ran
Which with this bluft'ring paragraph began!

"There was a prince of Lubberland,

"A potentate of high command,

"Ten thoufand bakers did attend him,

"Ten thousand brewers did befriend him;

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"Thefe brought him kiffing-crufts, and those
Brought him small beer, before he rofe."
The author raifes mountains feening full,
But all the cry produces little wool:
So if you fue a beggar for a house,

And have a verdict, what d' ye gain? a louse!
Homer, more modeft, if we fearch his books,
Will fhew us that his heroes all were Cooks;
How lov'd Patroclus with Achilles joins
To quarter out the ox and spit the loins.
Oh could that poet live! could he rehearse
Thy Journey, Lister! in immortal verfe!

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Mufe! fing the man that did to Paris go That he might taste their foups and mushrooms know! Oh! how would Homer praise their dancing dogs, Their ftinking cheese and fricafee of frogs! He'd raife no fables, fing no flagrant lie, Of boys with custard chok'd at Newberry; By their whole courses you 'd entirely fee How all their parts from first to laft agree.

If you all forts of perfons would engage
Suit well your eatables to every age.

The fav'rite child that just begins to prattle,
And throws away his filver bells and rattle,
Is very humourfome, and makes great clutter
Till he has windows on his bread and butter;
He for repeated fupper-meat will cry,
But won't tell mammy what he 'd have or why.

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