ted, and roasted, as I was, thou wilt hardly talk at this rate, I doubt.
But now what is to be done? We are enjoined by them to go forwards.

The scabby slabberdegullions still waited for us at the port, expecting to
be greased in the fist as well as their masters. Now when they perceived
that we were ready to put to sea, they came to Friar John and begged that
we would not forget to gratify the apparitors before we went off, according
to the assessment for the fees at our discharge. Hell and damnation! cried
Friar John; are ye here still, ye bloodhounds, ye citing, scribbling imps
of Satan? Rot you, am I not vexed enough already, but you must have the
impudence to come and plague me, ye scurvy fly-catchers you? By
cob's-body, I'll gratify your ruffianships as you deserve; I'll apparitorize
you presently with a wannion, that I will. With this, he lugged out his
slashing cutlass, and in a mighty heat came out of the ship to cut the
cozening varlets into steaks, but they scampered away and got out of sight
in a trice.

However, there was somewhat more to do, for some of our sailors, having got
leave of Pantagruel to go ashore while we were had before Gripe-men-all,
had been at a tavern near the haven to make much of themselves, and roar
it, as seamen will do when they come into some port. Now I don't know
whether they had paid their reckoning to the full or no, but, however it
was, an old fat hostess, meeting Friar John on the quay, was making a
woeful complaint before a sergeant, son-in-law to one of the furred
law-cats, and a brace of bums, his assistants.

The friar, who did not much care to be tired with their impertinent
prating, said to them, Harkee me, ye lubberly gnat-snappers! do ye presume
to say that our seamen are not honest men? I'll maintain they are, ye
dotterels, and will prove it to your brazen faces, by justice--I mean, this
trusty piece of cold iron by my side. With this he lugged it out and
flourished with it. The forlorn lobcocks soon showed him their backs,
betaking themselves to their heels; but the old fusty landlady kept her
ground, swearing like any butter-whore that the tarpaulins were very honest
cods, but that they only forgot to pay for the bed on which they had lain
after dinner, and she asked fivepence, French money, for the said bed. May
I never sup, said the friar, if it be not dog-cheap; they are sorry guests
and unkind customers, that they are; they do not know when they have