Epitaph on a very fat man

Under this pebble stone,
Here fast sleepeth one,
And that is not two;

Yet was without doubt
Far bigger about,
Then both I, and you.

His kidneys encreast
So much, that his wast
Was hooped all round:

So his girdle Death cuts,
And down fel his guts,
'Bouts heels to the ground.