Unfortunately these bills never contain the whole. It is of course impossible to believe that one shilling and fourpence represents the whole of the wine consumed on this occasion. Ben Jonson thus ridicules the care and thought expended upon feasting:— “A master-cook! why, he’s the man of men For a professor! he designs, he draws, He paints, he carves, he builds, he fortifies, Makes citadels of curious fowl and fish, Some he dry-dishes, some moats round with broths: Mounts marrow-bones, cuts fifty-angled custards, Rears bulwark pies, and for his outer works He raiseth ramparts of immortal crust; And teacheth all the tactics at one dinner: What ranks, what files, to put his dishes in: The whole art military. Then he knows The influence of the stars upon his meats, And all their seasons, tempers, qualities, And so to fit his relishes and sauces. He had nature in a pot, ’bove all the chymists, Or airy brethren of the Rosie-cross. He is an architect, an engineer, A soldier, a physician, a philosopher, A general mathematician.” And again in his dream of luxurious living:— “We will be brave, Puff, now we have the med’cine. My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells, Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies. The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels’ heels, Boil’d in the spirit of sol, and dissolv’d pearl, Apicius’ diet, ’gainst the epilepsy; And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber, Headed with diamond and carbuncle. My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver’d salmons, Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have The beards of barbels served instead of salads.” _The Alchemist._ And this for a more sober supper, yet not without its points of excellence:—