David Wallace Reads Chaucer
534 O wombe! o bely! o stynkyng cod,
535 Fulfilled of dong and of corrupcioun!
536 At either ende of thee foul is the soun.
537 How greet labour and cost is thee to fynde!
538 Thise cookes, how they stampe, and streyne, and grynde,
539 And turnen substaunce into accident,
540 To fulfille al thy likerous talent!
541 Out of the harde bones knokke they
542 The mary, for they caste noght awey
543 That may go thurgh the golet softe and swoote.
544 Of spicerie of leef, and bark, and roote
545 Shal been his sauce ymaked by delit,
546 To make hym yet a newer appetit.
547 But, certes, he that haunteth swiche delices
548 Is deed, whil that he lyveth in tho vices.
549 a lecherous thyng is wyn, and dronkenesse
550 Is ful of stryvyng and of wrecchednesse.
551 O dronke man, disfigured is thy face,
552 Sour is thy breeth, foul artow to embrace,
553 And thurgh thy dronke nose semeth the soun
554 As though thou seydest as sampsoun, sampsoun!
555 And yet, God woot, sampsoun drank nevere no wyn.
556 Thou fallest as it were a styked swyn;
557 Thy tonge is lost, and al thyn honeste cure;
558 For dronkenesse is verray sepulture
559 Of mannes wit and his discrecioun.
560 In whom that drynke hath dominacioun
561 He kan no conseil kepe, it is no drede.
562 Now kepe yow fro the white and fro the rede,
563 And namely fro the white wyn of lepe,
564 That is to selle in fysshstrete or in chepe.
565 This wyn of spaigne crepeth subtilly
566 In othere wynes, growynge faste by,
567 Of which ther ryseth swich fumositee
568 That whan a man hath dronken draughtes thre,
569 And weneth that he be at hoom in chepe,
570 He is in spaigne, right at the toune of lepe, --
571 Nat at the rochele, ne at burdeux toun;
572 And thanne wol he seye sampsoun, sampsoun!
534 O gut! O belly! O you stinking cod,
535 Filled full of dung, with all corruption found!
536 At either end of you foul is the sound.
537 With how great cost and labour do they find your food!
538 These cooks, they pound and strain and grind;
539 Substance to accident they turn with fire,
540 All to fulfill your gluttonous desire!
541 Out of the hard and riven bones knock they
542 The marrow, for they throw nothing away
543 That may go through the gullet soft and sweet;
544 With spicery, with leaf, bark, root, replete
545 Shall be the sauces made for your delight,
546 To furnish you a sharper appetite.
547 But truly, he that such delights entice
548 Is dead while yet he wallows in this vice.
549 A lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness
550 Is full of striving and of wretchedness.
551 O drunken man, disfigured is your face,
552 Sour is your breath, foul are you to embrace,
553 And through your drunken nose there comes a sound
554 As if you snored out "Samson, Samson" round;
555 And yet God knows that Samson drank no wine.
556 You fall down just as if you were stuck swine;
557 Your tongue is loose, your honest care obscure;
558 For drunkenness is very sepulture
559 Of any mind a man may chance to own.
560 In whom strong drink has domination shown
561 He can no counsel keep for any dread.
562 Now keep you from the white and from the red,
563 And specially from the white wine grown at Lepe
564 That is for sale in Fish Street or in Cheap.
565 This wine of Spain, it mixes craftily
566 With other wines that chance to be near by,
567 From which there rise such fumes, as well may be,
568 That when a man has drunk two draughts, or three,
569 And thinks himself to be at home in Cheap,
570 He finds that he's in Spain, and right at Lepe, -
571 Not at Rochelle nor yet at Bordeaux town,
572 And then will he snore out "Samson, Samson."