Piers Plowman - Maybe You Like It

6.257: "I woot wel,' quod Hunger, "what siknesse yow eyleth;
6.258: Ye han manged over muche — that maketh yow grone.
6.259: Ac I hote thee,' quod Hunger, "as thow thyn hele wilnest,
6.260: That thow drynke no day er thow dyne somwhat.
6.261: Ete noght, I hote thee, er hunger thee take
6.262: And sende thee of his sauce to savore with thi lippes;
6.263: And keep som til soper tyme and sitte noght to longe;
6.264: Arys up er appetit have eten his fille.
6.265: Lat noght Sire Surfet sitten at thi borde —
6.266: Love hym noght, for he is lecherous and likerous of tonge,
6.267: And after many maner metes his mawe is afyngred.
6.268: "And if thow diete thee thus, I dar legge myn eris
6.269: That Phisik shal his furred hood for his fode selle,
6.270: And his cloke of Calabre with alle the knappes of golde,
6.271: And be fayn, by my feith, his phisik to lete,
6.272: And lerne to laboure with lond [lest] liflode [hym faille].
6.273: Ther aren mo [li]eres than leches — Lord hem amende!
6.274: They do men deye thorugh hir drynkes er destynee it wolde.'
6.275: " By Seint Poul,' quod Piers, "thise arn profitable wordes!
6.276: For this is a lovely lesson, Lord it thee foryelde!
6.277: Wend now, Hunger, whan thow wolt, that wel be thow evere.'
6.278: " I bihote God,' quod Hunger, " hennes ne wole I wende
6.279: [Er] I have dyned bi this day and ydronke bothe.'
6.280: " I have no peny,' quod Piers, "pulettes to bugge,
6.281: Neither gees ne grys, but two grene cheses,
6.282: A fewe cruddes and creme and [a cake of otes],
6.283: And two loves of benes and bran ybake for my fauntes.
6.284: And yet I seye, by my soule, I have no salt bacon
6.285: Ne no cokeney, by Crist, coloppes to maken!
6.286: Ac I have percile and porettes and manye [plaunte coles],
6.287: And ek a cow and a calf, and a cart mare
6.288: To drawe afeld my donge the while the droghte lasteth.
6.289: By this liflode we mote lyve til Lammesse tyme.
6.290: And by that I hope to have hervest in my crofte;
6.291: Thanne may I dighte thi dyner as me deere liketh.'
6.292: Al the povere peple tho pescoddes fetten;
6.293: Benes and baken apples thei broghte in hir lappes,
6.294: Chibolles and chervelles and ripe chiries manye,
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