al metempsychosis, without the least
hurt, transmogrify them into such birds as you now see; much after the
fashion of the Egyptian heathens, who used to constitute their isiacs by
shaving them and making them put on certain linostoles, or surplices.
However, I don't know, my good friends, but that these she-things, whether
clerg-kites, monk-kites, and abbess-kites, instead of singing pleasant
verses and charisteres, such as used to be sung to Oromasis by Zoroaster's
institution, may be bellowing out such catarates and scythropys (cursed
lamentable and wretched imprecations) as were usually offered to the
Arimanian demon; being thus in devotion for their kind friends and
relations that transformed them into birds, whether when they were maids,
or thornbacks, in their prime, or at their last prayers.

But the greatest numbers of our birds came out of Want-o'-bread, which,
though a barren country, where the days are of a most tedious lingering
length, overstocks this whole island with the lower class of birds. For
hither fly the asapheis that inhabit that land, either when they are in
danger of passing their time scurvily for want of belly-timber, being
unable, or, what's more likely, unwilling to take heart of grace and follow
some honest lawful calling, or too proud-hearted and lazy to go to service
in some sober family. The same is done by your frantic inamoradoes, who,
when crossed in their wild desires, grow stark staring mad, and choose this
life suggested to them by their despair, too cowardly to make them swing,
like their brother Iphis of doleful memory. There is another sort, that
is, your gaol-birds, who, having done some rogue's trick or other heinous
villainy, and being sought up and down to be trussed up and made to ride
the two or three-legged mare that groans for them, warily scour off and
come here to save their bacon; because all these sorts of birds are here
provided for, and grow in an instant as fat as hogs, though they came as
lean as rakes; for having the benefit of the clergy, they are as safe as
thieves in a mill within this sanctuary.

But, asked Pantagruel, do these birds never return to the world where they
were hatched? Some do, answered Aedituus; formerly very few, very seldom,
very late, and very unwillingly; however, since some certain eclipses, by
the virtue of the celestial constellations, a great crowd of them fled back
to the world. Nor do we fret or vex ourselves a jot about it; fo