a codpiece, with his spectacles
fastened to his cap, said to one of his comrades, Prithee, look, is there
not a fine medal of a cuckold? Panurge, by reason of his spectacles, as
you may well think, heard more plainly by half with his ears than usually;
which caused him (hearing this) to say to the saucy dealer in mutton, in a
kind of a pet:

How the devil should I be one of the hornified fraternity, since I am not
yet a brother of the marriage-noose, as thou art; as I guess by thy
ill-favoured phiz?

Yea, verily, quoth the grazier, I am married, and would not be otherwise
for all the pairs of spectacles in Europe; nay, not for all the magnifying
gimcracks in Africa; for I have got me the cleverest, prettiest,
handsomest, properest, neatest, tightest, honestest, and soberest piece of
woman's flesh for my wife that is in all the whole country of Xaintonge;
I'll say that for her, and a fart for all the rest. I bring her home a
fine eleven-inch-long branch of red coral for her Christmas-box. What hast
thou to do with it? what's that to thee? who art thou? whence comest thou,
O dark lantern of Antichrist? Answer, if thou art of God. I ask thee, by
the way of question, said Panurge to him very seriously, if with the
consent and countenance of all the elements, I had gingumbobbed, codpieced,
and thumpthumpriggledtickledtwiddled thy so clever, so pretty, so handsome,
so proper, so neat, so tight, so honest, and so sober female importance,
insomuch that the stiff deity that has no forecast, Priapus (who dwells
here at liberty, all subjection of fastened codpieces, or bolts, bars, and
locks, abdicated), remained sticking in her natural Christmas-box in such a
lamentable manner that it were never to come out, but eternally should
stick there unless thou didst pull it out with thy teeth; what wouldst thou
do? Wouldst thou everlastingly leave it there, or wouldst thou pluck it
out with thy grinders? Answer me, O thou ram of Mahomet, since thou art
one of the devil's gang. I would, replied the sheepmonger, take thee such
a woundy cut on this spectacle-bearing lug of thine with my trusty bilbo as
would smite thee dead as a herring. Thus, having taken pepper in the nose,
he was lugging out his sword, but, alas!--cursed cows have short horns,--it
stuck in the scabbard; as you know that at sea cold iron will easily take
rust by reason of the excessive and nitrous moisture. Panurge, so smitten
with terror that his heart sunk dow