Against Feasting [KInde Marcus, me to supper lately bad]

KInde Marcus, me to supper lately bad,
And to declare how well to vs he wishes,
The roome was strow'd with Roses and with Rushes,
And all the cheere was got, that could be had.
Now in the midst of all our dainty dishes,
Me thinke, said he to me, you looke but sad,
Alas (said I) 'tis to see thee so mad,
To spoile the skies of Fowles, the seas of fishes,
The land of beasts, and be at so much cost,
For that which in one houre will all be lost.
That entertainment that makes me most glad,
Is not the store of stew'd, boyl'd, bak't and rost.
But sweet discourse, meane fare; & then beleeue me,
To make to thee like cheere, shall neuer grieue me.