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A lecherous thyng is wyn, and dronkenesse |
| Is ful of stryvyng and of wrecchednesse. |
| 265 | O dronke man, disfigured is thy face! |
| Sour is thy breeth, foul artow to embrace, |
| And thurgh thy dronke nose semeth the soun, |
| As though thow seydest ay, "Sampsoun! Sampsoun!" |
| And yet, God woot, Sampsoun drank nevere no wyn! |
| 270 | Thou fallest, as it were a styked swyn; |
| Thy tonge is lost, and al thyn honeste cure; |
| For dronkenesse is verray sepulture |
| Of mannes wit and his discrecioun, |
| In whom that drynke hath dominacioun. |
| 275 | He kan no conseil kepe, it is no drede. |
| Now kepe yow fro the white and fro the rede, |
| And namely, fro the white wyn of Lepe, |
| That is to selle in fysshstrete, or in Chepe. |
| This wyn of Spaigne crepeth subtilly |
| 280 | In othere wynes, growynge faste by, |
| Of which ther ryseth swich fumositee, |
| That whan a man hath dronken draughtes thre |
| And weneth that he be at hoom in Chepe, |
| He is in Spaigne, right at the toune of Lepe, |
| 285 | Nat at the Rochele, ne at Burdeux toun; |
| And thanne wol he seye "Sampsoun, Sampsoun!" |
|
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A lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness |
| Is full of striving and of wretchedness. |
| 265 | O drunken man, disfigured is your face, |
| Sour is your breath, foul are you to embrace, |
| And through your drunken nose there comes a sound |
| As if you snored out "Samson, Samson" round; |
| And yet God knows that Samson drank no wine. |
| 270 | You fall down just as if you were stuck swine; |
| Your tongue is loose, your honest care obscure; |
| For drunkenness is very sepulture |
| Of any mind a man may chance to own. |
| In whom strong drink has domination shown |
| 275 | He can no counsel keep for any dread. |
| Now keep you from the white and from the red, |
| And specially from the white wine grown at Lepe |
| That is for sale in Fish Street or in Cheap. |
| This wine of Spain, it mixes craftily |
| 280 | With other wines that chance to be near by, |
| From which there rise such fumes, as well may be, |
| That when a man has drunk two draughts, or three, |
| And thinks himself to be at home in Cheap, |
| He finds that he's in Spain, and right at Lepe, - |
| 285 | Not at Rochelle nor yet at Bordeaux town, |
| And then will he snore out "Samson, Samson." |
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