The mourners just return'd, silent and sad,
Clothed in funereal habits—I but raise
The cover of my pot, and every face
Assumes a smile, the tears are wash'd away;
Charm'd with the grateful flavour, they believe
They are invited to a wedding feast——
A. What, and give such effect, from a poor dish
Of miserable fish, and lentils?——
B.Ay;
But this the prelude only, not worth noting;