At a funereal feast as minister,
As soon as men come back from the funeral,
Clad in dark garments, I take off the lids
Of all my saucepans, and the weeping guests
I clothe with smiling faces in a moment;
And such a joy runs through each heart and frame
As if they were a marriage feast attending.
A. What! serving up lentils and bembrades?
B. These are some accidental dishes only;
But when I've got my necessary tools,
And once have properly arranged my kitchen,
That which in old time happen'd with the Sirens
You shall again behold repeated now.
For such shall be the savoury smell, that none
Shall bring themselves to pass this narrow passage;
And every one who passes by the door
Shall stand agape, fix'd to the spot, and mute,
Till some one of his friends, who's got a cold
And lost his smell, drags him away by force.
A. You're a great artist.
B. Do not you then know
To whom you speak? I do declare to you
I have known many of the guests, who have,
For my sake, eaten up their whole estates.
Now, I beg you, tell me, in the name of all the gods at once, in what respect this man appears to you to differ from the Celedones in Pindar, who, in the same manner as the Sirens of old, caused those who listened to them to forget their food through delight, and so to waste away?
37. But Nicomachus, in his Ilithyia, himself also introduces a cook, who in arrogance and conceit goes far beyond the artists on the stage. This cook then speaks to the man who has hired him in this way,—
A. You do display a gentlemanlike taste
And kind; but one thing still you have omitted.
B. How so?
A. You never have inquired it seems
How great a man I am. Or had you heard it
From some one else who was acquainted with me,
And so was that the reason you engaged me?
B. By Jove I never heard or thought about it.
A. Perhaps you do not know how great the difference
Is that exists between one cook and another?
B. Not I, but I shall know now, if you tell me.
A. To take some meat that some one else has bought,
And then to dress it tolerably, is
What any cook can do.
B. O Hercules!
