The Cookery Blue Book

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit;
The clock hath struck twelve upon the bell;
My mistress made it one upon my cheek-
She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
Methinks your man, like mine, should be your clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.
My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phœnix, sir, to dinner-
My mistress and her sister wait for you.

- Comedy of Errors