Pet. Aries, Taurus, Gemini; good: for Aries, a dish of lamb-stones and sweet-breads; for Taurus, a sirloin of beef; for Gemini, a brace of pheasants; for Cancer, a buttered crab; for Libra, a balance—in one scale a custard, in the other a tart—that's a dish for an alderman; for Virgo, a green salad; for Scorpio, a grand one; for Sagittarius, a pasty of venison; for Aquarius, a goose; for Pisces, two mullets. Is that all?
Cook. Read on, sir.
Pet. And in the middle of the table, to have an artificial hen, made of puff-paste, with her wings displayed, sitting upon eggs composed of the same materials; where in each of them shall be enclosed a fat nightingale, well seasoned with pepper and amber-grease.[350] So then will I add one invention more of my own; for I will have all these descend from the top of my roof in a throne, as you see Cupid or Mercury in a play.
Cook. That will be rare indeed, sir! [Exit.
Enter Duke and Leonardo.
Pet. See, the guests are come; go, and make all ready. Gentles, you are welcome.
Duke. Is the Antiquary arrived, or no? can you tell, sir?
Pet. Not yet, but I expect him each minute—
Enter Antiquary.
See, your word has charmed him hither already!