ndition that the joint Arts of Poetry and Cooky are able to reprefer him. There is a fcene the greatest horror, and moft moving to comfion, of any thing that I have feen amongst the oderns: "Talks of no pyramids of fowl, or bifks of fish," is nothing to it; for here we fee innocent perfon, unlefs punished for his moer's and housekeeper's extravagance, as was faid fore, in their mushrooms, mangoes, bamboons, tchup, and anchovies, reduced to the extremity eating his cheese ruithout bread, and having no her drink but water. For be and bis boy, with vo faddles on bis back and wallet, came into a walk confufed trees, where an owl bollows, a bear and pard walk across the defert at a diftance, and yet ey venture in; where Valentine accofts his boy ith thefe lines, which would draw tears from y thing that is not marble:

"Boy. There is nothing left in the wallet but one piece of cheese. What fhall we do for bread?

"VAL. When we have flept, we will feek out "Some roots that fhall fupply that doubt.

66

"be a nurse, a tender nurse, to him." Nor do bleffings come alone; for the good mother, having refrefbed bim with warm baths, and kept him tenderly in the boufe, orders Favourite, with repeated injunctions, "to get the best entertainment she ever yet provided, to confider what he has and "what she wants, and to get all ready in few "hours." And fo this moft regular work is concluded with a dance and a wedding-dinner. L cannot believe there was any thing ever more of a piece than the comedy. Some perfons may admire your meagre tragedies; but give me a play where there is a profpect of good meat or good wine ftirring in every act of it.

Though I am confident the Author had written this Play and printed it long before the "Art "of Cookery" was thought of, and I had never read it till the other Poem was very nearly perfected; yet it is admirable to fee how a true rule will be adapted to a good work, or a good work to a true rule. I fhould be heartily glad, for the fake of the public, if our Poets, for the future, would make use of so good an example. I doubt not but, whenever you or 1 write Comedy, we shall obferve it.

I have just now met with a furprising happiness; a Friend that has feen two of Dr. Lifter's Works, one "De Buccinis Fluviatilibus et Marinis Ex

"thee."

So the act clofes; and it is difmal for the audince to confider how Valentine and the poor boy, ho, it feenis, had a coming ftomach, fhould coninue there all the time the mufic was playing, nd longer. But, to ease them of their pain, by n invention which the poets call catastrophe, Vantine, though with a long beard, and very weak ith fafting, is reconciled to Florida, who, emracing him, fays, "I doubt I have offended him too much; but I will attend him home, cherish him with cordials, make him broths," (poor ood-natured creature! I wish he had Dr. Lifr's book to help her!) "ancint his limbs, and

caul of its throat, its Fallopian tube, and its suberocean tefticle; which are things Hippocrates, Galen, Celfus, Farnelius, and Harvey, were never mafters of. The other curiofity is the admirable piece of Caelius Apicius," De Opfoniis et Condi

mentis, five Arte Coquinaria, Libri decem," being Ten Books of Soups and Sauces, and the Art of Cookery, as it is excellently printed for the Doctor, who in this fo important affair is not fufficiently communicative. My Friend fays, he has a promife of leave to read it. What Remarks he makes I fhall not be envious of, but impart to him I love as well as his

Moft humble fervant, &c.

INGENIOUS LISTER, were a picture drawn
With Cynthia's face, but with a neck like brawn;
With wings of Turkey, and with feet of calf;
Though drawn by Kneller, it would make you
laugh!

Such is, good Sir, the figure of a feast,
By fome rich farmer's wife and fifter dreft;
Which, were it not for plenty and for steam,
Might be resembled to a fick man's dream,
Where all ideas huddling run so fast,
'That fyllabubs come first, and foups the last.
Not but that cooks and poets still were free,
To use their power in nice variety;

Hence, mackarel feem, delightful to the eyes,
Though drefs'd with incoherent goofeberries.
Crabs, falmon, lobsters, are with Fennel spread,
Who never touch'd that herb till they were dead;
Yet no man lards falt pork with orange peel,
Or garnishes his lamb with fpitchcock'd eel.

A cook perhaps has mighty things profefs'd,
Then fent up but two dishes nicely drefs'd:
What fignify Scotch-collops to a feast?
Or you can make whipp'd cream; pray what relief
Will that be to a failor who wants beef;
Who, lately fhipwreck'd, never can have ease,
Till re-establish'd in his pork and peafe?
When once begun, let industry ne'er ceafe
Till it has render'd all things of one piece:
At your defert bright pewter comes too late,
When your first courfe was all ferv'd up in plate.

Moft knowing Sir! the greatest part of cooks, Searching for truth, are cozen'd by its looks. One would have all things little; hence has tried Turkey-poults freth'd, from th' egg in batter fried:

Others, to fhew the largenefs of their foul,
Prepare you muttons fwol'd, and oxen whole.
To vary the fame things, fome think is art:
By larding of hogs-feet and bacon-tart,
The tafte is now to that perfection brought,
That care, when wanting fkill, creates the fault,
In Covent-Garden did a tailor dwell,
Who might deferve a place in his own hell:
Give him a single coat to make, he'd do’t;
A veft, or breeches, fingly: but the brute
Could ne'er contrive all three to make a fuit:
Rather than frame a fupper like fuch clothes,
I'd have fine eyes and teeth, without my nose.

You that from pliant pafte would fabrics raife,
Expecting thence to gain immortal praise,
Your knuckles try, and let your finews know
Their power to knead, and give the farm te
dough;

Choose your materials right, your seasoning fix, And with your fruit refplendent sugar mix: From thence of course the figure will arise, And elegance adorn the surface of your pies.

Beauty from order fprings: the judging eye Will tell you if one fingle plate's awry, The cook must still regard the present time; T' omit what's juft in feafon is a crime. Your infant pease t' afparagus prefer, Which to the fupper you may best defer. Be cautious how you change old bills of fare, Such alterations should at least be rare; Yet credit to the artist will accrue, Who in known things ftill makes th' appearance Fresh dainties are by Britain's traffic known, And now by conftant use familiar grown.

[new.

What lord of old would bid his cook prepare
Mangues, potargo, champignons, caveare?
Or would our thrum-capp'd ancestors find fault,
For want of fugar-tongs, or fpoons for falt?
New things produce new words, and thus Monteth
Has by one vessel sav'd his name from death.
The feasons change us all. By Autumn's frost,
The fhady leaves of trees and fruit are lost.
But then the Spring breaks forth with fresh supplies,
And from the teeming earth new buds arise.
So ftubble-geefe at Michaelmas are seen
Upon the fpit; next May produces green.
The fate of things lies always in the dark :
What cavalier would know St. James's Park?
For Locket's flands where gardens once did fpring;
And wild-ducks quack where grafshoppers did fing;
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, midst Danes and Saxons ftout,
Carouz'd in nut-brown ale, and din'd on grout;
Which dish its pristine honour still retains,
And, when each prince is crown'd, in fplendour
reigns.

By northern custom, duty was exprefs'd,
To friends departed, by their funeral feaft.
Though I've confulted Holinshed and Stow,
I find it very difficult to know

Who, to refresh th' attendants to a grave,
Burnt-claret firft or Naples-bifcuit gave.
Trotter from quince and apples first did frame
A pye, which ftill retains his proper name:
Though common grown, yet, with white fugar
ftrow'd,

And butter'd right, its goodnefs is allow'd.

As wealth flow'd in, and plenty sprang from peace,

Good-humour reign'd, and pleasures found increase.
Twas ufual then the banquet to prolong

By mufic's charm, and fome delightful fong;
Where every youth in pleasing accents strove
To tell the ftratagems and cares of love;
How fome fuccef-ful were, how others croft;
Then to the sparkling glafs would give his toast,
Whofe bloom did moft in his opinion fhine,
To relifh both the mufic and the wine.
Why am I ftyl'd a cook, if I'm fo loth
To marinate my fish, or feafon broth,
Or fend up what I roaft with pleafing froth;
If I my mafter's guflo won't difcern,
But, through my bafhful folly, fcorn to learn?
When among friends good humour takes its
birth,

'Tis not a tedious feaft prolongs the mirth;

}

}

But 'tis not reafon therefore you should spare,
When, as their future burgefs, 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 disgrace.
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 aftray,
And, weary, to fome cottage finds the way,
Talks of no pyramids of fowl, or bisks of fish, [dish;
But, hungry, fups his cream ferv'd up in earthen
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.

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

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 largenefs of our foul.
Onions will make ev'n heirs or widows weep;
The tender lettuce brings on fofter fleep;
Eat beef or pye-cruft if you'd ferious be;
Your fhell-fith raises Venus from the fea;
For nature, that inclines to ill or good,
Still nourishes our paffions by our food.

Happy the man that has each fortune tried,
To whom the much has given, and much denied:
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 small fortune, to be neat. 'Tis certain that a fteward can'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 pye; nurfe gives you cake; From generous merchants ham or sturgeon take. The farmer has brown bread as fresh as day, And butter fragrant as the dew of May. Cornwall fquab-pye, and Devon white-pot brings; And Leicester beans and bacon, food of kings!

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 rofemary and bays around it spread :
His foaming tufks let fome large pippin grace,
Or midft thofe thundering fpears an orange place;
Sauce like himself, offenfive to its foes,

The roguish muftard, dangerous to the nose.
Sack and the well-fpic'd hippocras the wine,
Waffail the bowl with ancient ribbands fine,
Porridge with plums, and turkeys with the
chine.

If you perhaps would try fome difh unknown,
Which more peculiarly you'd make your own,
Like ancient failors ftill regard the coaft,
By venturing out too far you may be loft.
By roafting that which your forefathers boil'd,
And boiling what they roasted, much is spoil'd.

刚

That cook to British palates is complete,
Whofe favoury hand gives turns to common meat.
Though cooks are often men of pregnant wit,
Through nicenefs of their fubject, few have writ.
In what an aukward found that ballad ran,
Which with this bluftering paragraph began:
There was a prince of Lubberland

A potentate of high command,
Ten thousand bakers did attend him,
Ten thoufand brewers did befriend him:
Thefe brought him kiffing-crufts, and thofe
Brought bim fmall-beer, before be rofe.

The author raifes mountains feeming full,
But all the cry produces little zool:
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, Lifter, in immortal verfe!

Mufe, fing the man that did to Paris go, That he might tafle their foups, and mushrooms know! Oh, how would Homer praife their dancing dogs, Their ftinking cheese, and fricafce of frogs! He'd raise no fables, fing no flagrant lye, Of boys with custard chok'd at Newberry; But their whole courfes you'd entirely fee, How all their parts from firft to laft agree.

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

The favourite child, that juft 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.
The fmooth-fac'd youth, that has new guar--
dians chofe,

From play-house steps to fupper at the Rose,
Where he a main or two at random throws:
Squandering of wealth, impatient of advice,
His eating must be little, coftly, nice.

Maturer age, to this delight grown ftrange,
Each night frequents his club behind the 'Change,
Expecting there frugality and health,
And honour rifing from a fheriff's wealth:
Unless he some insurance dinner lacks,
'Tis very rarely he frequents Pontack's.
But then old age, by ftill intruding years,
Torments the feeble heart with anxious fears:
Morofe, perverfe in humour, diffident,
The more he ftill abounds, the lefs content;
His larder and his kitchen too obferves,
And now, left he should want hereafter, starves;
Thinks fcorn of all the prefent age can give,
And none these threetcore years knew how to live.
But now the cook muft pafs through all degrees,
And by his art difcordant tempers please,
And minifter to health and to disease.

Far from the parlour have your kitchen plac'd, Dainties may in their working be disgrac'd, In private draw your poultry, clean your tripe, And from your eels their flimy fubftance wipe.

Let cruel offices be done by night,
For they who like the thing abhor the fight.
Next, let difcretion moderate your cost,
And, when you treat, three courfes be the me
Let never fresh machines your pastry try,
Unless grandees or magiftrates are by:
Then you may put a dwarf into a pye.
Or, if you'd fright an alderman and mayor,
Within a pafty lodge a living hare;
Then midit their graveft furs fhall mirth arife,
And all the Guild pursue with joyful cries.

Crowd not your table: let your number be
Not more than seven, and never lefs than three.
'Tis the defert that graces all the feaft,
For an ill end disparages the rest:
A thousand things well done, and one forgot,
Defaces obligation by that blot.
Make your tranfparent fweet-meats truly nice,
With Indian fugar and Arabian spice:

And let your various creams encircled be
With fwelling fruit just ravish'd from the tree.
Let plates and difhes be from China brought,
With lively paint and earth transparent wrought
The feaft now done, difcourfes are renew'd,
And witty arguments with mirth pursued.
The cheerful master, 'midst his jovial friends,
His glass" to their best wifhes" recommends
The grace-cup follows to his fovereign's health.
And to his country, "Plenty, peace, and weahi",
Performing then the piety of grace,

Each man that pleafes re-affumes his place;
While at his gate, from such abundant store,
He fhowers his godlike bleflings on the poor.

In days of old, our fathers went to war,
Expecting sturdy blows and hardy fare:
Their beef they often in their murrions stew',
And in their basket-hilts their beverage brew'd
Some officer perhaps may give confent,
To a large cover'd pipkin in his tent,
Where every thing that every foldier got,
Fowl, bacon, cabbage, mutton, and what not,
Was all thrown into bank, and went to pot.
But, when our conquefts were extenfive grown,
And through the world our British worth wa
known,

Wealth on commanders then flow'd in apace,
Their Champaign sparkled equal with their lace
Quails, Beccofico's, Ortolans, were fent,
To grace the levee of a general's tent;
In their gilt plate all delicates were seen,
And what was earth before became a rich terrene
When the young players once get to lfhington,
They fondly think that all the world's ther

own:

Prentices, parish-clerks, and hectors meet;
He that is drunk, or bullied, pays the treat.
Their talk is loofe; and o'er the bouncing ale
At conftables and juftices they rail;
Not thinking custard fuch a serious thing,
That common-council-men 'twill thither bring;
Where many a man, at variance with his wife,
With foftening mead and cheefe-cake ends the
[difcourte,
Ev'n fquires come there, and, with their meas
Render the kitchen, which they fit in, worse,

ftrife.

lidwives demure, and chamber-maids moft gay, remen that pick the box, and come to play, ere find their entertainment at the height, cream and codlings revelling with delight. ha these approve, the great men will dislike: it here's the art, if you the palate strike; 7 management of common things fo well,

hat what was thought the meaneft fhall excel; hile others strive in vain, all perfons own ich dishes could be drefs'd by you alone.

As for myself, I take him to abstain,
Who has good meat, with decency, though plain;
But, though my edge be not too nicely set,
Yet I another's'appetite may whet;

May teach him when to buy, when season's past,' What's itale, what choice, what plentiful, what waste;

And lead him through the various maze of taste. The fundamental principle of all

Is what ingenious cooks the relifh call;

All rightly then compofe an ambigue;

nere first and fecond courfe, and your defert,

il in one fingie table have their part.

rom fuch a vast confufion 't delight, o fid the jarring elements unite,

nd raise a Aructure grateful to the fight. Be not too far by old example led,

ith caution now we in their footsteps tread : he French our relish help, and well supply The want of things too grofs by decency. ur fathers moit admir'd their fauces fweet, ad often afk'd for fugar with their meat; They burter'd currants on fat veal bestow'd, and rumps of beef with virgin-honey ftrew'd. lipid taite, old friend, to them who Paris know, Where rocombole, fhallot, and the rank garlic, grow.

Tom Bold did first begin the ftrolling mart, And drove ab ut his turnis in a cart;

metimes his wife the citizens would please, And from the fame machine fell pecks of peafe; Then pippins did in wheel-barrows abound, And oranges in whin fey-boards went round: Bets Hoy first found it troublesome to bawl, And therefore plac'd her cherries on a flail; Her currants there and goofeberries were spread, With the enticing gold of gingerbread : But flounders, iprats, and cucumbers, were cried, And every found and every voice was tried. At laft the Law this hideous din fup, refs'd, And order'd that the Sunday fhould have reft; And that no nymph her noily food should fell, Except it were new milk or mackarel.

There is no difh but what our cooks have made, And merited a charter by their trade. [Spain, Not French kickshaws, or oglios brought from Alone have found in provement from their brain, But pudding, brawn, and white-pots, own'd to be Th' effects or native ingenuity.

Our British fleet, which now commands the Might glorious wreaths of victory obtain, [main, Would they take time; would they with leifure work; [pork;

With care would falt their beef, and cure their Would boil their liquor well whene'er they brew, Their conquest balf is to the victualler due.

Because that thrift and abftinence are good, As many things if rightly underflood: Old Crofs condemns all perfons to be fops, That can't regale themfelves with mutton chops. He often for ftuft beef to Bedlam runs, And the clean rummer, as the pesthouse, fhuns. Sometimes poor jack and onions are his difh, And then he faints thofe friars who fink

They all are tafteless till that makes them good.
Befides, 'tis no ignoble piece of care,

To know for whom it is you would prepare:
You'd please a friend, or reconcile a brother,
A tefty father, or a haughty mother;
Would mollify a judge, would cram a squire,
Or elfe fome fmiles from court you may defire;
Or would, perhaps, fome hafty supper give,
To fhew the fplendid ftate in which you live.
Pursuant to that intereft you propose,
Must all your wine and all your meat be chose.
Let rien and manners every difh adapt:
Who'd force his pepper where his guests are clapt
A cauldron of fat beef and stoop of ale
On the huzzaing mob fhall more prevail,
Than if you give them with the nicest art
Ragouts of peacocks brains, or filbert-tart.

The French by soups and baut-gouts glory raise,
And their defires all terminate in praife.
The thrifty maxim of the weary Dutch
Is, to fave all the money they cau touch:
Hans," cries the father, "fee a pin lies there;
"A pin a day will fetch a groat a-year.

"To your five farthings join three farthings

more;

"And they, if added, make your halfpence four!" Thus may your stock by management increase, Your wars fhall gain you more than Britain's peace.

Where love of wealth and rufty coin prevail,
What hopes of fugar'd cakes or batter'd ale?

Cooks garnish out fome tables, fome they fill,
Or in a prudent mixture fhew their skill:
Clog not your conftant meals; for dishes few
Increafe the appetite, when choice and new.
Ev'n they, who will extravagance profess,
Have fill an inward hatred for excels:
Meat, fore'd too much, untouch'd at table lies,'
Few care for carning trifles in disguise,
Or that fantastic difh fome call surprise.
When pleatures to the eye and palate meet,
That cook has render'd his great work complete:
His glory far, like furloin knighthood, flies;
Immortal made, as Kit-cat by his pyes.

Good-nature muft fome failings overlook,
Not wilfulness, but errors of the cook.
A ftring won't always give the found defign'd
By the musician's touch and heavenly mind:
Nor will an arrow from the Parthian bow
Still to the deftin'd point directly go.
Perhaps no falt is thrown about the dish,
Or no fried parsley scatter'd on the fifa;
Shall 1 in paffion from my dinner fly,
And hopes of pardon to my cook deny,