Ȝe han maunged ouermoche, and þat maketh ȝow grone. 255
Ac I hote þe,' quod Hunger, 'as þow þyne hele wilnest,
That þow drynke no day ar þow dyne somwhat.
Ete nouȝte, I hote þe, ar hunger þe take,
And sende þe of his sauce to sauoure with þi lippes;
And kepe some tyl sopertyme, and sitte nouȝt to longe; 260
Arise vp ar appetit haue eten his fulle.
Lat nouȝt Sire Surfait sitten at þi borde....
And ȝif þow diete þe þus, I dar legge myne eres
Þat Phisik shal his furred hodes for his fode selle,