Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
Anger's my meat. I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding.
Unquiet meals make ill digestions.
He hath eaten me out of house and home.
They are sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.
O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.
Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but backrout quite the wits.
He that keeps not crust nor crum Weary of all, shall want some.
Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canter dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
Myself--a prince by fortune of my birth, Near to the king in blood, and near in love Till you did make him misinterpret me-- Have stooped my neck under your injuries And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment, Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign, Save men's opinions and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman.
I almost die for food, and let me have it!
If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.
My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast.
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