_Sir _Richard Strang-bow_ keeps an house where Wine And Bread some sup on, but few seldom dine. Ask yet an hungry Rambler, and he’ll say, (Though not one bit came near his mouth that day) He plentifully din’d with him, so let him still Till he hath found his empty belly fill, Where I ne’re could, which made me hate in fine Sir _Richard Strang-bows_ Feasts, St. _Patrick’s_ Wine._ I fasted so long, I had now almost forgot how to eat: for if casually I came where meat was, I often made a proffer to convey something to my mouth, but my lips understood not my meaning; for having been so long unaccustomed to their duty, knew not how to perform their _gaping_ office. It was impossible at this time for the greatest fright to have made me foul my breeches, because I seldom used any thing that might cause excrements. And therefore I wondred to hear any enquire for an house of Office, since I had now left off going to stool. Once in five days I thought I stood in need of evacuating; but I was mistaken, for by discharging a blast of wind (whose fury scattered small stones underneath me) I found it only a fit of the Cholick. I shall deal plainly, shoud I have found a propensity, I would have been very unwilling to let any thing go out, since so little past into my belly. Some _Moveables_ I had left, which I was forced to dispose of, to keep the passage of my guts open, which would frequently grumble against my stomach for detaining too long what was received, challenging a propriety therein. I thought it good policy not to buy any Belly-timber of a quick concoction, because it should stay the longer within me. To this purpose I lookt on old Cheese to be food convenient; knowing that though it will disgest any thing else, yet it cannot disgest it self; and as it closeth up the mouth of the stomack, so by its respective quality it locks up fast the Poststern of the Micro-cosm. Flesh again (if I got any) I would swallow by whole-sale, fearing lest by chewing it, my stomach would too suddenly give it a passport to my _Hypo-gastrium_; by which means it would be immediately ready again, nay restless in the craving more. I seldom slept for the gnawing of my stomack, and the anguish of my guts, and for want of those fumes which proceeding from Meat ascended into the head, and so the causers of sleep. If I chanced to nod at any time, I dreamed of nothing but eating, my fancy feeding that while as voraciously as an hunger-starved hound on a shoulder of Mutton. I was driven to that pass, I could not justly tell whether I was alive or not. Sometimes I was of the opinion that I dyed in our Ship-wrack on the Isle of _Man_, and that I was now a Soul in Purgatory.