Lynn
William Scrivener,
Cook to the Corporation.
Alas! alas! Will Scriviner’s dead, who by his art
Could make death’s skeleton edible in each part;
Mourn, squeamish stomachs, and ye curious palates,
You’ve lost your dainty dishes and your salades;
Mourn for yourselves, but not for him i’ th’ least,
He’s gone to taste of a more Heav’nly feast.