Carve him as a dish fit for the gods.
Would the cook were of my mind!
She would have made Hercules have turned spit.
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm.
Hire me twenty cunning cooks.
Were not I a little pot and soon hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth.
Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept?
'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat.
What dogs are these! Where is the rascal cook?
How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,
And serve it thus to me that love it not?
Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit.
He that will have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding.
Have I not tarried?
Ay, the grinding: but you must tarry the bolting.
Have I not tarried?
Ay, the bolting: but you must tarry the leavening.
Still have I tarried.
Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the word "hereafter" the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven and the baking: nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.
The waste of many good materials, the vexation that frequently attends such mismanagements, and the curses not unfrequently bestowed on cooks with the usual reflection, that whereas God sends good meat, the devil sends cooks
E. Smith—The Compleat Housewife. (1727)
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl,
And, half-suspected, animate the whole.
)
| topic = | page = 139
}}
Velocius (or citius) quam asparagi coquantur.
More quickly than asparagus is cooked.
God sends meat, and the Devil sends cooks.
John Taylor—Works. Vol.11. P. 85. (1630)
| seealso = (See also Cook and Confectioners' Dict.)
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is—
A sort of soup or broth, or brew,
Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes,
That Greenwich never could outdo;
Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron,
Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace;
All these you eat at Terre's tavern,
In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Corne, which is the staffe of life.
Winslow—Good News from New England.
"Very astonishing indeed! strange thing!"
(Turning the Dumpling round, rejoined the
King),
" 'Tis most extraordinary, then, all this is;
It beats Penetti's conjuring all to pieces;
Strange I should never of a Dumpling dream!
But, Goody, tell me where, where, where's the
Seam?"
"Sire, there's no Seam," quoth she; "I never knew
That folks did Apple-Dumplings sew."
"No!" cried the staring Monarch with a grin;
"How, how the devil got the Apple in?"
COQUETRY
(See also Flirtation)
Or light or dark, or short or tall,
She sets a springe to snare them all:
All's one to her—above her fan
She'd make sweet eyes at Caliban.
T. B. Alduicb.—Quatrains. Coquette.
Like a lovely tree
She grew to womanhood, and between whiles
Rejected several suitors, just to learn
How to accept a better in his turn.
Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No,"
And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and
' off-ing
On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow,
Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward
| author = Byron
| work = Don Juan.
| place = Canto XII. St. 63.
| note =
| topic =
| page = 139
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 21
| text = <poem>In the School of Coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar;—
O, they fish with all nets
In the School of Coquettes!
When her brooch she forgets
'Tis to show her new collar;
In the School of Coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar!
Coquetry is the essential characteristic, and
the prevalent humor of women; but they do not
all practise it, because the coquetry of some it
restrained by fear or by reason.
La Rochefoucauld—Maxims. No. 252.
