HKB
that is out of his mind, And a man whiche that is drunkelew:* a drunkard <11> But that woodness, y-fallen in a shrew,* *madness **one evil-tempered Persevereth longer than drunkenness.
O gluttony, full of all cursedness; O cause first of our confusion, Original of our damnation, Till Christ had bought us with his blood again! Looke, how deare, shortly for to sayn, Abought* was first this cursed villainy: atoned for Corrupt was all this world for gluttony. Adam our father, and his wife also, From Paradise, to labour and to woe, Were driven for that vice, it is no dread. doubt For while that Adam fasted, as I read, He was in Paradise; and when that he Ate of the fruit defended of the tree, forbidden <12> Anon he was cast out to woe and pain. O gluttony! well ought us on thee plain. Oh! wist a man how many maladies Follow of excess and of gluttonies, He woulde be the more measurable moderate Of his diete, sitting at his table. Alas! the shorte throat, the tender mouth, Maketh that east and west, and north and south, In earth, in air, in water, men do swink labour To get a glutton dainty meat and drink. Of this mattere, O Paul! well canst thou treat Meat unto womb, and womb eke unto meat, belly Shall God destroye both, as Paulus saith. <13> Alas! a foul thing is it, by my faith, To say this word, and fouler is the deed, When man so drinketh of the white and red, i.e. wine That of his throat he maketh his privy Through thilke cursed superfluity The apostle saith, <14> weeping full piteously, There walk many, of which you told have I, — I say it now weeping with piteous voice, — That they be enemies of Christe’s crois; cross Of which the end is death; womb is their God. belly O womb, O belly, stinking is thy cod, bag <15> Full fill’d of dung and of corruptioun; At either end of thee foul is the soun. How great labour and cost is thee to find! supply These cookes how they stamp, and strain, and grind, And turne substance into accident, To fulfill all thy likerous talent! Out of the harde bones knocke they The marrow, for they caste naught away That may go through the gullet soft and swoot *sweet Of spicery and leaves, of bark and root, Shall be his sauce y-maked by delight, To make him have a newer appetite. But, certes, he that haunteth such delices Is dead while that he liveth in those vices.