Classic Poem

Sir, much good do't ye; were your table but
Pie-crust or cheese, you might your stomach shut
After your slice of beef; what, dare you try
Your force on an ell square of pudding pie?
Perhaps 't may be a taste; three such as you
Unbreakfasted might starve Seraglio.
When Hannibal scal'd th' Alps, hadst thou been there,
Thy beef had drunk up all his vinegar.
Well might'st thou be of guard to Henry th' eight,
Since thou canst, like a pigeon, eat thy weight.
Full wise was nature, that would not bestow
These tusks of thine into a double row.
What womb could ere contain thee? thou canst shut
A pond or aviary in a gut.
Had not thy mother borne thee toothless, thou
Hadst eaten viper-like a passage through.
Had he that wish'd the crane's long neck to eat,
Put in thy stomach too 't had been complete.
Thou Noah's ark, Dead Sea, thou Golgotha,
Monster, beyond all them of Africa!
Beasts prey on beasts, fishes to fishes fall;
Great birds feed on the lesser, thou on all.
Hath there been no mistake — Why may 't not be,
When Curtius leap'd the gulph, 'twas into thee?
Now we'll believe that man of Chica could
Make pills of arrows, and the boy that would
Chew only stones; nor can we think it vain,
That Baranetho eat up th' neighbouring plain.
Poor Erisicthon, that could only feast
On one poor girl in several dishes drest,
Thou hast devour'd as many sheep as may
Clothe all the pasture in Arcadia.
Yet, O how temperate! that ne'er goes on
So far as to approach repletion.
Thou breathing cauldron! whose digestive heat
Might boil the whole provision of the fleet;
Say grace as long as meals, and, if thou please,
Breakfast with islands, and drink healths with seas!