Book 9
31
And now we have had enough of cooks, my feasters; lest perhaps some one of them, pluming himself and quoting the Morose Man of Menander, may spout such lines as these— No one who does a cook an injury Ever escapes unpunish'd; for our art Is a divine and noble one. But I say to you, in the words of the tuneful Diphilus— I place before you now a lamb entire, Well skewer'd, and well cook'd and season'd; Some porkers in their skins, and roasted whole; And a fine goose stuff'd full, like Dureus.
