It is for the like of me that lovers run mad and that the longing are distracted. If my lover be minded to draw me to himI am drawn to himand if he would have me incline to himI incline to him and not against him. But as for theeO fat of bodythine eating is as that of an elephantand neither much not little contents thee. When thou liest with a manhe hath no ease of theenor can he find a way to take his pleasure of thee；for the bigness of thy belly holds him off from clipping thee and the grossness of thy thighs hinders him from coming at thy kaze. What comeliness is there in thy grossness and what pleasantness or courtesy in thy coarse nature？ Fat meat is fit for nought but slaughternor is there aught therein that calls for praise. If one joke with theethou art angry；if one sport with theethou art sulky；if thou sleepthou snorest；if thou walkthou pantest；if thou eatthou art never satisfied. Thou art heavier than mountains and fouler than corruption and sin. Thou hast in thee nor movement nor blessing nor thinkest of aught but to eat and sleep. If thou make waterthou scatterest；if thou void，thou gruntest like a bursten wine-skin or a surly elephant. If thou go to the draught-housethou needest one to wash out thy privy parts and pluck out the hairs；and this is the extreme of laziness and the sign of stupidity. In finethere is no good thing in theeand indeed the poet saith of thee：
Heavy and swollen with fatlike a blown-out water-skinWith thighs like the pillars of stone that buttress a mountain's head，Loif she walk in the Westso cumbrous her corpulence is The Eastern hemisphere hears the sound of her heavy tread.'