Gargantua and Pantagruel, Illustrated, Book 5Rabelais, François
Science
Gargantua and Pantagruel, Illustrated, Book 5
Rabelais, François
Fantasy fiction, French -- Translations into English; Gargantua (Legendary character) -- Fiction; Giants -- Fiction
'Tis a very great mercy, quoth Panurge, that you have got out of their
clutches. For my part, I have no stomach to go there again; I'm hardly
come to myself yet, so scared and appalled I was. My hair still stands up
an end when I think on't; and most damnably troubled I was there, for three
very weighty reasons. First, because I was troubled. Secondly, because I
was troubled. Thirdly and lastly, because I was troubled. Hearken to me a
little on thy right side, Friar John, my left cod, since thou'lt not hear
at the other. Whenever the maggot bites thee to take a trip down to hell
and visit the tribunal of Minos, Aeacus, Rhadamanthus, (and Dis,) do but
tell me, and I'll be sure to bear thee company, and never leave thee as
long as my name's Panurge, but will wade over Acheron, Styx, and Cocytus,
drink whole bumpers of Lethe's water--though I mortally hate that element
--and even pay thy passage to that bawling, cross-grained ferryman, Charon.
But as for the damned wicket, if thou art so weary of thy life as to go
thither again, thou mayst e'en look for somebody else to bear thee company,
for I'll not move one step that way; e'en rest satisfied with this positive
answer. By my good will I'll not stir a foot to go thither as long as I
live, any more than Calpe will come over to Abyla (Here Motteux adds the
following note: 'Calpe is a mountain in Spain that faces another, called
Abyla, in Mauritania, both said to have been severed by Hercules.'). Was
Ulysses so mad as to go back into the Cyclop's cave to fetch his sword?
No, marry was he not. Now I have left nothing behind me at the wicket
through forgetfulness; why then should I think of going thither?
Well, quoth Friar John, as good sit still as rise up and fall; what cannot
be cured must be endured. But, prithee, let's hear one another speak.
Come, wert thou not a wise doctor to fling away a whole purse of gold on
those mangy scoundrels? Ha! A squinsy choke thee! we were too rich, were
we? Had it not been enough to have thrown the hell-hounds a few cropped
pieces of white cash?
How could I help it? returned Panurge. Did you not see how Gripe-men-all
held his gaping velvet pouch, and every moment roared and bellowed, By
gold, give me out of hand; by gold, give, give, give me presently? Now,
thought I to myself, we shall never come off scot-free. I'll e'en stop
their mouths with gold, that the wicket may be opened, and we may get out;
the sooner the better. And I judged that lousy silver would not do the
business; for, d'ye see, velvet pouches do not use to gape for little
paltry clipt silver and small cash; no, they are made for gold, my friend
John; that they are, my dainty cod. Ah! when thou hast been larded,
basted, and roasted, as I was, thou wilt hardly talk at this rate, I doubt.
But now what is to be done? We are enjoined by them to go forwards.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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