much is spoil’d. That cook to American palates is complete, Whose savory hand gives turn to common meat. Far from your parlor have your kitchen placed, Dainties may in their working be disgraced. In private draw your poultry, clean your tripe, And from your eels their slimy substance wipe. [x]Let cruel offices be done by night, For they who like the thing abhor the sight. ’Tis by his cleanliness a cook must please; A kitchen will admit of no disease. Were Horace, that great master, now alive, A feast with wit and judgment he’d contrive, As thus: Supposing that you would rehearse A labor’d work, and every dish a verse, He’d say, “Mend this and t’other line and this.” If after trial it were still amiss, He’d bid you give it a new turn of face, Or set some dish more curious in its place. If you persist, he would not strive to move A passion so delightful as self-love. Cooks garnish out some tables, some they fill, Or in a prudent mixture show their skill. Clog not your constant meals; for dishes few Increase the appetite when choice and new. E’en they who will extravagance profess, Have still an inward hatred for excess. Meat forced too much, untouch’d at table lies; Few care for carving trifles in disguise, Or that fantastic dish some call surprise. When pleasures to the eye and palate meet, That cook has render’d his great work complete; [xi]His glory far, like sirloin knighthoodxi-1 flies Immortal made, as Kit-cat by his pies. Next, let discretion moderate your cost, And when you treat, three courses be the most. Let never fresh machines your pastry try, Unless grandees or magistrates are by, Then you may put a dwarf into a pie.xi-2 Crowd not your table; let your number be Not more than seven, and never less than three. ’Tis the dessert that graces all the feast, For an ill end disparages the rest. A thousand things well done, and one forgot, Defaces obligation by that blot. Make your transparent sweetmeats truly nice With Indian sugar and Arabian spice. And let your various creams encircled be With swelling fruit just ravish’d from the tree. The feast now done, discourses are renewed, And witty arguments with mirth pursued; [xii]The cheerful master, ’midst his jovial friends, His glass to their best wishes recommends. The grace cup follows: To the President’s health And to the country; Plenty, Peace, and Wealth! Performing, then, the piety of grace, Each man that pleases reassumes his place; While at his gate, from such abundant store, He showers his godlike blessings on the poor.

Though

[viii]

[ix]

[x]

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