mour, as gay and pleasing as a
harmonious hornpipe of Saulieau or Buzansay. The veridical Triboulet did
therein hint at what I liked well, as perfectly knowing the inclinations and
propensions of my mind, my natural disposition, and the bias of my interior
passions and affections. For you may be assured that my humour is much
better satisfied and contented with the pretty, frolic, rural, dishevelled
shepherdesses, whose bums through their coarse canvas smocks smell of the
clover grass of the field, than with those great ladies in magnific courts,
with their flandan top-knots and sultanas, their polvil, pastillos, and
cosmetics. The homely sound, likewise, of a rustical hornpipe is more
agreeable to my ears than the curious warbling and musical quavering of
lutes, theorbos, viols, rebecs, and violins. He gave me a lusty rapping
thwack on my back,--what then? Let it pass, in the name and for the love of
God, as an abatement of and deduction from so much of my future pains in
purgatory. He did it not out of any evil intent. He thought, belike, to
have hit some of the pages. He is an honest fool, and an innocent
changeling. It is a sin to harbour in the heart any bad conceit of him. As
for myself, I heartily pardon him. He flirted me on the nose. In that
there is no harm; for it importeth nothing else but that betwixt my wife and
me there will occur some toyish wanton tricks which usually happen to all
new-married folks.

Chapter 3.XLVII.

How Pantagruel and Panurge resolved to make a visit to the oracle of the
holy bottle.

There is as yet another point, quoth Panurge, which you have not at all
considered on, although it be the chief and principal head of the matter.
He put the bottle in my hand and restored it me again. How interpret you
that passage? What is the meaning of that? He possibly, quoth Pantagruel,
signifieth thereby that your wife will be such a drunkard as shall daily
take in her liquor kindly, and ply the pots and bottles apace. Quite
otherwise, quoth Panurge; for the bottle was empty. I swear to you, by the
prickling brambly thorn of St. Fiacre in Brie, that our unique morosoph,
whom I formerly termed the lunatic Triboulet, referreth me, for attaining
to the final resolution of my scruple, to the response-giving bottle.
Therefore do I renew afresh the first vow which I made, and here in your
presence protest and make oath, by Styx and Acheron, to carry still
spectacles in my cap, and