ht of the pope-hawk.

Our junketting and banqueting held on at the same rate the third day as the
two former. Pantagruel then earnestly desired to see the pope-hawk; but
Aedituus told him it was not such an easy matter to get a sight of him.
How, asked Pantagruel, has he Plato's helmet on his crown, Gyges's ring on
his pounces, or a chameleon on his breast, to make him invisible when he
pleases? No, sir, returned Aedituus; but he is naturally of pretty
difficult access. However, I'll see and take care that you may see him, if
possible. With this he left us piddling; then within a quarter of an hour
came back, and told us the pope-hawk is now to be seen. So he led us,
without the least noise, directly to the cage wherein he sat drooping, with
his feathers staring about him, attended by a brace of little cardin-hawks
and six lusty fusty bish-hawks.

Panurge stared at him like a dead pig, examining exactly his figure, size,
and motions. Then with a loud voice he said, A curse light on the hatcher
of the ill bird; o' my word, this is a filthy whoop-hooper. Tush, speak
softly, said Aedituus; by G--, he has a pair of ears, as formerly Michael
de Matiscones remarked. What then? returned Panurge; so hath a whoopcat.
So, said Aedituus; if he but hear you speak such another blasphemous word,
you had as good be damned. Do you see that basin yonder in his cage? Out
of it shall sally thunderbolts and lightnings, storms, bulls, and the devil
and all, that will sink you down to Peg Trantum's, an hundred fathom under
ground. It were better to drink and be merry, quoth Friar John.

Panurge was still feeding his eyes with the sight of the pope-hawk and his
attendants, when somewhere under his cage he perceived a madge-howlet.
With this he cried out, By the devil's maker, master, there's roguery in
the case; they put tricks upon travellers here more than anywhere else, and
would make us believe that a t--d's a sugarloaf. What damned cozening,
gulling, and coney-catching have we here! Do you see this madge-howlet?
By Minerva, we are all beshit. Odsoons, said Aedituus, speak softly, I
tell you. It is no madge-howlet, no she-thing on my honest word; but a
male, and a noble bird.

May we not hear the pope-hawk sing? asked Pantagruel. I dare not promise
that, returned Aedituus; for he only sings and eats at his own hours. So
don't I, quoth Panurge; poor pilgarlic is fain to make everybody's time his
own; if they have time, I