_Darteneuf_.--Of singing birds! Choke him! I never ate but one, which I
stole out of its cage from a lady of my acquaintance, and all London was
in an uproar, as if I had stolen and roasted an only child. But, upon
recollection, I doubt whether I have really so much cause to envy AEsopus.
For the singing bird which I ate was not so good as a wheat-ear or
becafigue. And therefore I suspect that all the luxury you have bragged
of was nothing but vanity. It was like the foolish extravagance of the
son of AEsopus, who dissolved pearls in vinegar and drank them at supper.
I will stake my credit that a haunch of good buck venison and my
favourite ham pie were much better dishes than any at the table of
Vitellius himself. It does not appear that you ancients ever had any
good soups, without which a man of taste cannot possibly dine. The
rabbits in Italy are detestable. But what is better than the wing of one
of our English wild rabbits? I have been told you had no turkeys. The
mutton in Italy is ill-flavoured. And as for your boars roasted whole,
they were only fit to be served up at a corporation feast or election
dinner.
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