Commodian — Instructiones 22

While you serve the belly you say you are innocent, and as if common you make yourself ready everywhere. Woe to you, foolish man — you yourself look round at death; in barbarian fashion you seek to live without law: you yourself plant an axe in your shin by the word. You who feign the simple — live simply with him. You believe you live while you long to fill the belly. Tiny, you sit back in your house, crooked one, ready for feasts, and you flee the dinner’s precepts. Or because you disbelieve that God judges the dead, do you happen to make yourself Rector of heaven in his place? You look to the belly as if you were provident for it. Now you seem profane, now holy. You come forth against the suppliant under God’s sight, tyrant. You will feel in the fates whose law you now empty.