"Mathew with mannes face Mouthed thise wordes, That _servus nequam_ hadde a mnam, And for he wolde noght chaffare, He hadde maugree of his maister 4280 Evere moore after, And by-nam hym his mnam, For he ne wolde werche, And yaf that mnam to hym That ten mnames hadde; And with that he seide, That holy chirche it herde, He that hath shal have And helpe there it nedeth; { 132} And he that noght hath shal noght have, 4290 And no man hym helpe, And that he weneth wel to have I wole it hym bi-reve. Kynde wit wolde That ech a wight wroghte, Or in dikynge or in delvynge, Or travaillynge in preieres; Contemplatif lif or actif lif Crist wolde thei wroghte. The Sauter seith in the Psalme 4300 Of _Beati omnes_, The freke that fedeth hymself With his feithful labour, He is blessed by the book In body and in soule." _Labores manuum tuarum, etc._
"Yet I preie yow," quod Piers, "_Par charité_, and ye konne Any leef of leche-craft, Lere it me, my deere; 4310 For some of my servauntz, And myself bothe, Of al a wike werche noght, So oure wombe aketh."
"I woot wel," quod Hunger, "What siknesse yow eyleth; Ye han manged over muche, And that maketh yow grone. Ac I hote thee," quod Hunger, "As thow thyn hele wilnest, 4320 That thow drynke no day Er thow dyne som what. Ete noght, I hote thee, { 133} Er hunger thee take, And sende thee of his sauce To savore with thi lippes; And keep som til soper-tyme, And sitte noght to longe, And rys up er appetit Have eten his fille. 4330 Lat noght sire Surfet Sitten at thi borde. Leve hym noght, for he is lecherous, And likerous of tunge, And after many maner metes His mawe is a-fyngred.
"And if thow diete thee thus, I dar legge myne eris, That Phisik shal hise furred hodes For his fode selle, 4340 And his cloke of Calabre, With alle the knappes of golde, And be fayn, by my feith! His phisik to lete, And lerne to laboure with lond, For liflode is swete. For murthereris are manye leches, Lord hem amende! They do men deye thorugh hir drynkes, Er destynee it wolde." 4350 "By seint Poul!" quod Piers, "Thise arn profitable wordes! Wend now, Hunger, whan thow wolt, That wel be thow evere! For this is a lovely lesson, Lord it thee for-yelde!"
"Bi-hote God!" quod Hunger, { 134} "Hennes ne wole I wende, Til I have dyned bi this day, And y-dronke bothe." 4360