There is something more of a joke in this fou’s reply to another courtier who saw Triboulet galloping or caracoling on a magnificent horse when Francis made his public entry into Rouen. “You had better go more quietly, Cousin,” said the courtier, “or you will suffer for it.” “Alas, Sir,” replied the _plaisant_, “what can I do? I stick my spurs into my horse’s flanks to keep him quiet; and the more I prick, the more unruly I find the obstinate beast!” Such sayings as these were only tricks of vocation. Triboulet did not lack common sense, nor omit to use it for the benefit of those who appeared to have lacked their own. This was the case when Francis gave a courier two thousand crowns, as he mounted his horse, and proceeded on a mission to Rome; which place he undertook to reach within a space of time in which no human being could have accomplished the journey. “I will put you down in my register, Sire, as a fool, for believing a man can do what is impossible, and for paying him four times what were his due, even if he could achieve what he undertakes to do.” “But, if he fails,” said Francis, “he will restore me my money.” “Will he, by my bagpipes!” exclaimed Triboulet; “then he will be a greater fool than yourself, and so I shall have two to register instead of one.” There is another _trait_ illustrative of Triboulet, which has, nevertheless, been attributed, if I remember rightly, to the jester of Leopold of Austria, when planning his invasion of Switzerland. Francis I. summoned a council in 1525, to deliberate on the necessary measures for the celebrated campaign which ended in the capture of the monarch at Pavia. The counsellors did not spare their brains; and, at length having duly and unanimously decided on the most feasible means for successfully entering Italy, they broke up, and rose to separate. “A moment, wise Sirs,” said Triboulet, as he lay, supported on his elbow, at the feet of the King. “I pray your stupendous wisdoms to tarry an instant, while I intimate that, although you may fancy you have delivered yourself of the best possible advice to my cousin Francis, you have really forgotten the most important point of all.” “Ay! ay! merry cousin,” exclaimed the King, “will your sage worship inform us how that may be?” “Just this,” answered Triboulet, with his merry chuckle. “They have told you how best to get into Italy. Now, you do not intend, I suppose, to stay there for ever; and your fool thinks they would have done well if they had counselled your Majesty, not merely how to get into Italy, but how to get out of it again.” “Tush! joyous companion,” said Francis; “it is not needful. We shall return _tambour battant_.” “Very fine,” rejoined the fool. “Vos tambours seront battus;” and at this _équivoque_, the council dispersed, laughing.