Poems, and phancies written By the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, And Excellent Princess The Lady Marchioness of Newcastle [i.e. Margaret Cavendish]. The Second Impression, much Altered and Corrected |
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 | Poems, and phancies |  |
Nature's Cook.
Death is the Cook of Nature, and we findCreatures drest several ways to please her Mind;
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And some he Boyls with Dropsies in a Pot;
Some are Consum'd for Jelly by degrees,
And some with Ulcers, Gravy out to Squeeze;
Some, as with Herbs, he stuffs with Gouts and Pains,
Others for tender Meat he hangs in Chains;
Some in the Sea he Pickles up to keep,
Others he, as Sous'd Brawn, in Wine doth Steep;
Some Flesh and Bones he with the Pox chops small,
And doth a French Fricassee make withall;
Some on Grid-ir'ns of Calentures are Broil'd,
And some are trodden down, and so quite spoil'd:
But some are Bak'd, when Smother'd they do Dye,
Some Meat he doth by Hectick Feavers fry;
In Sweat sometimes he stews with Savory smell,
An Hodge-podge of Diseases he likes well;
Some Brains he Dresseth with Apoplexy,
Or Sawce of Megrims, Swimming plenteously;
And Tongues he Drys with Smoak from Stomacks ill,
Which, as the second Course he sends up still;
Throats he doth Cut, Blood Puddings for to make,
And puts them in the Guts, which Colicks Rack;
Some Hunted are by him for Deer, that's Red,
And some as Stall-fed Oxen knock'd o'th' Head;
Some Singd'd and Scall'd for Bacon, seem most rare,
When with Salt Rhume & Phlegm they Powder'd are.
| Poems, and phancies | |