gullet-sweepers. And, to comply with her
invitation, we crammed and twisted till we owned ourselves thoroughly cured
of thirst, which before did damnably plague us.

We are told, continued she, that formerly a learned and valiant Hebrew
chief, leading his people through the deserts, where they were in danger of
being famished, obtained of God some manna, whose taste was to them, by
imagination, such as that of meat was to them before in reality; thus,
drinking of this miraculous liquor, you'll find it taste like any wine that
you shall fancy you drink. Come, then, fancy and drink. We did so, and
Panurge had no sooner whipped off his brimmer but he cried, By Noah's open
shop, 'tis vin de Beaune, better than ever was yet tipped over tongue, or
may ninety-six devils swallow me. Oh! that to keep its taste the longer,
we gentlemen topers had but necks some three cubits long or so, as
Philoxenus desired to have, or, at least, like a crane's, as Melanthius
wished his.

On the faith of true lanterners, quoth Friar John, 'tis gallant, sparkling
Greek wine. Now, for God's sake, sweetheart, do but teach me how the devil
you make it. It seems to me Mirevaux wine, said Pantagruel; for before I
drank I supposed it to be such. Nothing can be misliked in it, but that
'tis cold; colder, I say, than the very ice; colder than the Nonacrian and
Dercean (Motteux reads 'Deraen.') water, or the Conthoporian (Motteux,
'Conthopian.') spring at Corinth, that froze up the stomach and nutritive
parts of those that drank of it.

Drink once, twice, or thrice more, said Bacbuc, still changing your
imagination, and you shall find its taste and flavour to be exactly that on
which you shall have pitched. Then never presume to say that anything is
impossible to God. We never offered to say such a thing, said I; far from
it, we maintain he is omnipotent.

Chapter 5.XLIII.

How the Priestess Bacbuc equipped Panurge in order to have the word of the
Bottle.

When we had thus chatted and tippled, Bacbuc asked, Who of you here would
have the word of the Bottle? I, your most humble little funnel, an't
please you, quoth Panurge. Friend, saith she, I have but one thing to tell
you, which is, that when you come to the Oracle, you take care to hearken
and hear the word only with one ear. This, cried Friar John, is wine of
one ear, as Frenchmen call it.

She then wrapped him up in a gaberdine, bound his noddle with a goodly
clean biggin, clap