And, wel I woot, thy breeth ful soure stynketh:
That sheweth wel thou art nat wel disposed.
Of me, certeyn, thou shalt nat been yglosed.
See how he ganeth, lo, this dronken wight,
As though he wolde swolwe us anonright.
Hoold cloos thy mouth, man, by thy fader kyn!
The devel of helle sette his foot therin!
Thy cursed breeth infecte wole us alle.
– Geoffrey Chaucer
The Canterbury Tales, The Manciple’s Prologue. From being courteous at first to the drunken Cook, the Manciple’s speech midway turns nasty. He says that the Cook’s yawn is so big it will swallow them all and claims that his foul breath will give them all disease.