My meat shall all come in Indian shells, Dishes of agate, set in gold, and studded, With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies... My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calvered salmons, Knots, godwits, lampreys. I myself will have The beards of barbels served instead of salads; Oiled mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off, Drest with an exquisite and poignant sauce; For which, I'll say unto my cook, "There's gold, Go forth and be a knight."
The name [Ben] Jonson gave to this mad pleasure-seeker is Sir Epicure Mammon.
(From The Swerve: How the Renaissance Began By Stephen Greenblatt.)
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