went down those numerical stairs, all under ground, and I
can assure you, in the first place, that our legs stood us in good stead;
for had it not been for 'em, we had rolled just like so many hogsheads into
a vault. Secondly, our radiant lantern gave us just so much light as is in
St. Patrick's hole in Ireland, or Trophonius's pit in Boeotia; which caused
Panurge to say to her, after we had got down some seventy-eight steps:

Dear madam, with a sorrowful, aching heart, I most humbly beseech your
lanternship to lead us back. May I be led to hell if I be not half dead
with fear; my heart is sunk down into my hose; I am afraid I shall make
buttered eggs in my breeches. I freely consent never to marry. You have
given yourself too much trouble on my account. The Lord shall reward you
in his great rewarder; neither will I be ungrateful when I come out of this
cave of Troglodytes. Let's go back, I pray you. I'm very much afraid this
is Taenarus, the low way to hell, and methinks I already hear Cerberus
bark. Hark! I hear the cur, or my ears tingle. I have no manner of
kindness for the dog, for there never is a greater toothache than when dogs
bite us by the shins. And if this be only Trophonius's pit, the lemures,
hobthrushes, and goblins will certainly swallow us alive, just as they
devoured formerly one of Demetrius's halberdiers for want of bridles. Art
thou here, Friar John? Prithee, dear, dear cod, stay by me; I'm almost
dead with fear. Hast thou got thy bilbo? Alas! poor pilgarlic's
defenceless. I'm a naked man, thou knowest; let's go back. Zoons, fear
nothing, cried Friar John; I'm by thee, and have thee fast by the collar;
eighteen devils shan't get thee out of my clutches, though I were unarmed.
Never did a man yet want weapons who had a good arm with as stout a heart.
Heaven would sooner send down a shower of them; even as in Provence, in the
fields of La Crau, near Mariannes, there rained stones (they are there to
this day) to help Hercules, who otherwise wanted wherewithal to fight
Neptune's two bastards. But whither are we bound? Are we a-going to the
little children's limbo? By Pluto, they'll bepaw and conskite us all. Or
are we going to hell for orders? By cob's body, I'll hamper, bethwack, and
belabour all the devils, now I have some vine-leaves in my shoes. Thou
shalt see me lay about me like mad, old boy. Which way? where the devil
are they? I fear nothing but their damned horns; but cuc