And drinking, joking, scolding, pricking. And lovely sounds from tuneful flutes, And song and din go through the house, Of instruments both wind and string'd. Meantime a lovely scent of cassia, From Syria's fertile land, does strike Upon my sense, and frankincense, And myrrh, and nard * * * * * * * * Such a confusion fills the house With every sort of luxury. [Sidenote: COOKERY.] 68. Now, after all this conversation, there was brought in the dish which is called Rhoduntia; concerning which that wise cook quoted numbers of tragedies before he would tell us what he was bringing us. And he laughed at those who professed to be such admirable cooks, mentioning whom, he said—Did that cook in the play of Anthippus, the comic poet, ever invent such a dish as this?—the cook, I mean, who, in the Veiled Man, boasted in this fashion:— _A._ Sophon, an Ararnanian citizen, And good Democritus of Rhodes, were long Fellow-disciples in this noble art, And Labdacus of Sicily was their tutor. These men effaced all vulgar old recipes Out of their cookery books, and took away The mortar from the middle of the kitchen. They brought into disuse all vinegar, Cummin, and cheese, and assafoetida, And coriander seed, and all the sauces Which Saturn used to keep within his cruets. And the cook who employ'd such means they thought A humbug, a mere mountebank in his art. They used oil only, and clean plates, O father, And a quick fire, wanting little bellows: With this they made each dinner elegant. They were the first who banish'd tears and sneezing, And spitting from the board; and purified The manners of the guests. At last the Rhodian, Drinking some pickle by mistake, did die; For such a draught was foreign to his nature. _B._ 'Twas likely so to be. _A._ But Sophon still Has all Ionia for his dominions, And he, O father, was my only tutor. And I now study philosophic rules, Wishing to leave behind me followers, And new discover'd rules to guide the art. _B._ Ah! but, I fear, you'll want to cut _me_ up, And not the animal we think to sacrifice. _A._ To-morrow you shall see me with my books, Seeking fresh precepts for my noble art; Nor do I differ from th' Aspendian. And if you will, you too shall taste a specimen Of this my skill. I do not always give The self-same dishes to all kinds of guests; But I regard their lives and habits all. One dish I set before my friends in love, Another's suited to philosophers, Another to tax-gatherers. A youth Who has a mistress, quickly will devour His patrimonial inheritance; So before him I place fat cuttle-fish Of every sort; and dishes too of fish