ass; Well, poor ass, how is
it with thee now? How dost thou like this fare? Thou wert so nice at
first, a body had much ado to get thee hither. By the fig, answered the
ass, which, one of our ancestors eating, Philemon died laughing, this is
all sheer ambrosia, good Sir Grandpaw; but what would you have an ass say?
Methinks all this is yet but half cheer. Don't your worships here now and
then use to take a leap? What leaping dost thou mean? asked the horse; the
devil leap thee! dost thou take me for an ass? In troth, Sir Grandpaw,
quoth the ass, I am somewhat of a blockhead, you know, and cannot, for the
heart's blood of me, learn so fast the court way of speaking of you
gentlemen horses; I mean, don't you stallionize it sometimes here among
your mettled fillies? Tush, whispered the horse, speak lower; for, by
Bucephalus, if the grooms but hear thee they will maul and belam thee
thrice and threefold, so that thou wilt have but little stomach to a
leaping bout. Cod so, man, we dare not so much as grow stiff at the tip of
the lowermost snout, though it were but to leak or so, for fear of being
jerked and paid out of our lechery. As for anything else, we are as happy
as our master, and perhaps more. By this packsaddle, my old acquaintance,
quoth the ass, I have done with you; a fart for thy litter and hay, and a
fart for thy oats; give me the thistles of our fields, since there we leap
when we list. Eat less, and leap more, I say; it is meat, drink, and cloth
to us. Ah! friend Grandpaw, it would do thy heart good to see us at a
fair, when we hold our provincial chapter! Oh! how we leap it, while our
mistresses are selling their goslings and other poultry! With this they
parted. Dixi; I have done.

Panurge then held his peace. Pantagruel would have had him to have gone on
to the end of the chapter; but Aedituus said, A word to the wise is enough;
I can pick out the meaning of that fable, and know who is that ass, and who
the horse; but you are a bashful youth, I perceive. Well, know that
there's nothing for you here; scatter no words. Yet, returned Panurge, I
saw but even now a pretty kind of a cooing abbess-kite as white as a dove,
and her I had rather ride than lead. May I never stir if she is not a
dainty bit, and very well worth a sin or two. Heaven forgive me! I meant
no more harm in it than you; may the harm I meant in it befall me
presently.

Chapter 5.VIII.

How with much ado we got a sig