From Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales", The Pardoner's Tale, lines 219-262

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Pardoner's Tale
lines 219-262: A sermon on gluttony

	Adam oure fader, and his wyf also,
220	Fro Paradys to labour and to wo
	Were dryven for that vice, it is no drede.
	For whil that Adam fasted, as I rede,
	He was in Paradys, and whan that he
	Eet of the fruyt deffended on the tree,
225	Anon he was out cast to wo and peyne.
	O glotonye, on thee wel oghte us pleyne!
	O, wiste a man how manye maladyes
	Folwen of excesse and of goltonyes,
	He wolde been the moore mesurable
230	Of his diete, sittynge at his table.
	Allas, the shorte throte, the tendre mouth
	Maketh that est and west and north and south
	In erthe, in eir, in water, man to swynke
	To gete a glotoun deyntee mete and drynke!
235	Of this matiere, O Paul! wel kanstow trete:
	"Mete unto wombe and wombe eek unto mete
	Shal God destroyen bothe," as Paulus seith.
	Allas, a foul thyng is it, by my feith,
	To seye this word, and fouler is the dede
240	Whan man so drynketh of the white and rede
	That of his throte he maketh his pryvee
	Thurgh thilke cursed superfluitee.

	Adam our father, and his wife also,
220	From Paradise to labour and to woe
	Were driven for that vice, no doubt; indeed
	The while that Adam fasted, as I read,
	He was in Paradise; but then when he
	Ate of the fruit forbidden of the tree,
225	Anon he was cast out to woe and pain.
	O gluttony, of you we may complain!
	Oh, knew a man how many maladies
	Follow on excess and on gluttonies,
	Surely he would be then more moderate
230	In diet, and at table more sedate.
	Alas! The throat so short, the tender mouth,
	Causing that east and west and north and south,
	In earth, in air, in water men shall swink
	To get a glutton dainty meat and drink!
235	Of this same matter Paul does wisely treat:
	"Meat for the belly and belly for the meat:
	And both shall God destroy," as Paul does say.
	Alas! A foul thing is it, by my fay,
	To speak this word, and fouler is the deed,
240	When man so guzzles of the white and red
	That of his own throat makes he his privy,
	Because of this cursed superfluity.

	The Apostel wepying seith ful pitously,
	"Ther walken manye of whiche yow toold have I -
245	I seye it now wepyng with pitous voys,
	That they been enemys of Cristes croys,
	Of whiche the ende is deeth, wombe is hir god."
	O wombe! O bely! O stynkyng cod!
	Fulfilled of donge and of corrupcioun,
250	At either ende of thee foul is the soun;
	How greet labour and cost is thee to fynde,
	Thise cookes, how they stampe, and streyne, and grynde,
	And turnen substaunce into accident,
	To fulfillen al thy likerous talent!
255	Out of the harde bones knokke they
	The mary, for they caste noght awey,
	That may go thurgh the golet softe and swoote;
	Of spicerie, of leef, and bark, and roote,
	Shal been his sauce ymaked by delit,
260	To make hym yet a newer appetit.
	But, certes, he that haunteth swiche delices
	Is deed, whil that he lyveth in tho vices.

	The apostle, weeping, says most piteously:
	"For many walk, of whom I've told you, aye,
245	Weeping I tell you once again they're dross,
	For they are foes of Christ and of the Cross,
	Whose end is death, whose belly is their god."
	O gut! O belly! O you stinking cod,
	Filled full of dung, with all corruption found!
250	At either end of you foul is the sound.
	With how great cost and labour do they find
	Your food! These cooks, they pound and strain and grind;
	Substance to accident they turn with fire,
	All to fulfill your gluttonous desire!
255	Out of the hard and riven bones knock they
	The marrow, for they throw nothing away
	That may go through the gullet soft and sweet;
	With spicery, with leaf, bark, root, replete
	Shall be the sauces made for your delight,
260	To furnish you a sharper appetite.
	But truly, he that such delights entice
	Is dead while yet he wallows in this vice.