| Author |
Quotes |
| John Milton | They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy. |
| William Shakespeare | No, Antony, take the lot, But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar Grew faw with feasting there. |
| William Shakespeare | I almost die for food, and let me have it! |
| William Shakespeare | Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. |
| William Shakespeare | Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil. |
| William Shakespeare | Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon. |
| William Shakespeare | Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbradings, Unquiet meals make ill digestions, Thereof the raging fire of fever bred. |
| William Shakespeare | If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell. |
| William Shakespeare | He hath eaten me out of house and home, he hath put all of my substance into that fat belly of his. |
| William Shakespeare | He that keeps not crust nor crum Weary of all, shall want some. |
| William Shakespeare | Be it not in thy care. Go, I charge thee, invite them all, let in the tide Of knaves once more, my cook and I'll provide. |
| William Shakespeare | Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress. Your diet shall be in all places alike, make not a City feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place, sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. |
| William Shakespeare | Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but backrout quite the wits. |
| William Shakespeare | You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are, and yet for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with nothing. |
| William Shakespeare | Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner. |
| William Shakespeare | I wished your venison better--it was ill killed. |
| William Shakespeare | I will make an end of my dinner--there's pippins and seese to come. |
| William Shakespeare | For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! |
| William Shakespeare | I fear it is too choleric a meat. How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled? |
| William Shakespeare | What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? |
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