Our dinners now are ended. These our aubergines,
As I foretold you, were all eaten and
Are melted into oil, into olive oil:
And, like the breaded fabric of this eggplant,
The breaded slices, the oil-soaked cutlets,
The solemn casseroles, the great parmesan itself,
Yea, all which it ingested, shall dissolve
And, like this too-substantial dinner faded,
Leave not an ort behind. We are such stuff
As aubergines are made of, and our little lunch
Is rounded with a burp.

                  -- S. P. D. Al-Kaselzar, The Temptress