oves, a bottle or borracho full of vinegar, a horn wherein to put
salt, a wooden spit, a larding stick, a scurvy kettle full of holes, a
dripping-pan to make sauce in, an earthen salt-cellar, and a goblet of
Beauvais. Then, in imitation of Pantagruel's verses and trophy, wrote that
which followeth:--

Here was it that four jovial blades sat down
To a profound carousing, and to crown
Their banquet with those wines which please best great
Bacchus, the monarch of their drinking state.
Then were the reins and furch of a young hare,
With salt and vinegar, displayed there,
Of which to snatch a bit or two at once
They all fell on like hungry scorpions.

For th' Inventories
Of Defensories
Say that in heat
We must drink neat
All out, and of
The choicest stuff.

But it is bad to eat of young hare's flesh,
Unless with vinegar we it refresh.
Receive this tenet, then, without control,
That vinegar of that meat is the soul.

Then said Pantagruel, Come, my lads, let us begone! we have stayed here too
long about our victuals; for very seldom doth it fall out that the greatest
eaters do the most martial exploits. There is no shadow like that of
flying colours, no smoke like that of horses, no clattering like that of
armour. At this Epistemon began to smile, and said, There is no shadow
like that of the kitchen, no smoke like that of pasties, and no clattering
like that of goblets. Unto which answered Panurge, There is no shadow like
that of curtains, no smoke like that of women's breasts, and no clattering
like that of ballocks. Then forthwith rising up he gave a fart, a leap,
and a whistle, and most joyfully cried out aloud, Ever live Pantagruel!
When Pantagruel saw that, he would have done as much; but with the fart
that he let the earth trembled nine leagues about, wherewith and with the
corrupted air he begot above three and fifty thousand little men,
ill-favoured dwarfs, and with one fisg that he let he made as many little
women, crouching down, as you shall see in divers places, which never grow
but like cow's tails, downwards, or, like the Limosin radishes, round. How
now! said Panurge, are your farts so fertile and fruitful? By G--, here be
brave farted men and fisgued women; let them be married together; they will
beget fine hornets and dorflies. So did Pantagruel, and called them
pigmies. Those he sent to live in an island thereby, where since that time
they ar