uch more than his burden, though instead of that he could dance
very well and play at tennis, made the blazon and device of the licentiates
in the said university, saying,

So you have in your hand a racket,
A tennis-ball in your cod-placket,
A Pandect law in your cap's tippet,
And that you have the skill to trip it
In a low dance, you will b' allowed
The grant of the licentiate's hood.

Chapter 2.VI.

How Pantagruel met with a Limousin, who too affectedly did counterfeit the
French language.

Upon a certain day, I know not when, Pantagruel walking after supper with
some of his fellow-students without that gate of the city through which we
enter on the road to Paris, encountered with a young spruce-like scholar
that was coming upon the same very way, and, after they had saluted one
another, asked him thus, My friend, from whence comest thou now? The
scholar answered him, From the alme, inclyte, and celebrate academy, which
is vocitated Lutetia. What is the meaning of this? said Pantagruel to one
of his men. It is, answered he, from Paris. Thou comest from Paris then,
said Pantagruel; and how do you spend your time there, you my masters the
students of Paris? The scholar answered, We transfretate the Sequan at the
dilucul and crepuscul; we deambulate by the compites and quadrives of the
urb; we despumate the Latial verbocination; and, like verisimilary
amorabons, we captat the benevolence of the omnijugal, omniform and
omnigenal feminine sex. Upon certain diecules we invisat the lupanares,
and in a venerian ecstasy inculcate our veretres into the penitissime
recesses of the pudends of these amicabilissim meretricules. Then do we
cauponisate in the meritory taberns of the Pineapple, the Castle, the
Magdalene, and the Mule, goodly vervecine spatules perforaminated with
petrocile. And if by fortune there be rarity or penury of pecune in our
marsupies, and that they be exhausted of ferruginean metal, for the shot we
dimit our codices and oppignerat our vestments, whilst we prestolate the
coming of the tabellaries from the Penates and patriotic Lares. To which
Pantagruel answered, What devilish language is this? By the Lord, I think
thou art some kind of heretick. My lord, no, said the scholar; for
libentissimally, as soon as it illucesceth any minutule slice of the day, I
demigrate into one of these so well architected minsters, and there,
irrorating myself with fair lustral water, I mumble of