["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Of the original and antiquity of the great Pantagruel. It will not be an idle nor unprofitable thing, seeing we are at leisure, to\nput you in mind of the fountain and original source whence is derived unto\nus the good Pantagruel. For I see that all good historiographers have thus\nhandled their chronicles, not only the Arabians, Barbarians, and Latins,\nbut also the gentle Greeks, who were eternal drinkers. You must therefore\nremark that at the beginning of the world--I speak of a long time; it is\nabove forty quarantains, or forty times forty nights, according to the\nsupputation of the ancient Druids--a little after that Abel was killed by\nhis brother Cain, the earth, imbrued with the blood of the just, was one\nyear so exceeding fertile in all those fruits which it usually produceth to\nus, and especially in medlars, that ever since throughout all ages it hath\nbeen called the year of the great medlars; for three of them did fill a\nbushel. In it the kalends were found by the Grecian almanacks. There was\nthat year nothing of the month of March in the time of Lent, and the middle\nof August was in May. In the month of October, as I take it, or at least\nSeptember, that I may not err, for I will carefully take heed of that, was\nthe week so famous in the annals, which they call the week of the three\nThursdays; for it had three of them by means of their irregular leap-years,\ncalled Bissextiles, occasioned by the sun's having tripped and stumbled a\nlittle towards the left hand, like a debtor afraid of sergeants, coming\nright upon him to arrest him:  and the moon varied from her course above\nfive fathom, and there was manifestly seen the motion of trepidation in the\nfirmament of the fixed stars, called Aplanes, so that the middle Pleiade,\nleaving her fellows, declined towards the equinoctial, and the star named\nSpica left the constellation of the Virgin to withdraw herself towards the\nBalance, known by the name of Libra, which are cases very terrible, and\nmatters so hard and difficult that astrologians cannot set their teeth in\nthem; and indeed their teeth had been pretty long if they could have\nreached thither. However, account you it for a truth that everybody then did most heartily\neat of these medlars, for they were fair to the eye and in taste delicious. But even as Noah, that holy man, to whom we are so much beholding, bound,\nand obliged, for that he planted to us the vine, from whence we have that\nnectarian, delicious, precious, heavenly, joyful, and deific liquor which\nthey call the piot or tiplage, was deceived in the drinking of it, for he\nwas ignorant of the great virtue and power thereof; so likewise the men and\nwomen of that time did delight much in the eating of that fair great fruit,\nbut divers and very different accidents did ensue thereupon; for there fell\nupon them all in their bodies a most terrible swelling, but not upon all in\nthe same place, for some were swollen in the belly, and their belly\nstrouted out big like a great tun, of whom it is written, Ventrem\nomnipotentem, who were all very honest men, and merry blades. And of this\nrace came St. Fatgulch and Shrove Tuesday (Pansart, Mardigras.). Others\ndid swell at the shoulders, who in that place were so crump and knobby that\nthey were therefore called Montifers, which is as much to say as\nHill-carriers, of whom you see some yet in the world, of divers sexes and\ndegrees. Of this race came Aesop, some of whose excellent words and deeds\nyou have in writing. Some other puffs did swell in length by the member\nwhich they call the labourer of nature, in such sort that it grew\nmarvellous long, fat, great, lusty, stirring, and crest-risen, in the\nantique fashion, so that they made use of it as of a girdle, winding it\nfive or six times about their waist:  but if it happened the foresaid\nmember to be in good case, spooming with a full sail bunt fair before the\nwind, then to have seen those strouting champions, you would have taken\nthem for men that had their lances settled on their rest to run at the ring\nor tilting whintam (quintain). Of these, believe me, the race is utterly\nlost and quite extinct, as the women say; for they do lament continually\nthat there are none extant now of those great, &c.  You know the rest of\nthe song. Others did grow in matter of ballocks so enormously that three\nof them would well fill a sack able to contain five quarters of wheat. From them are descended the ballocks of Lorraine, which never dwell in\ncodpieces, but fall down to the bottom of the breeches. Others grew in the\nlegs, and to see them you would have said they had been cranes, or the\nreddish-long-billed-storklike-scrank-legged sea-fowls called flamans, or\nelse men walking upon stilts or scatches. The little grammar-school boys,\nknown by the name of Grimos, called those leg-grown slangams Jambus, in\nallusion to the French word jambe, which signifieth a leg. In others,\ntheir nose did grow so, that it seemed to be the beak of a limbeck, in\nevery part thereof most variously diapered with the twinkling sparkles of\ncrimson blisters budding forth, and purpled with pimples all enamelled with\nthickset wheals of a sanguine colour, bordered with gules; and such have\nyou seen the Canon or Prebend Panzoult, and Woodenfoot, the physician of\nAngiers. Of which race there were few that looked the ptisane, but all of\nthem were perfect lovers of the pure Septembral juice. Naso and Ovid had\ntheir extraction from thence, and all those of whom it is written, Ne\nreminiscaris. Others grew in ears, which they had so big that out of one\nwould have been stuff enough got to make a doublet, a pair of breeches, and\na jacket, whilst with the other they might have covered themselves as with\na Spanish cloak:  and they say that in Bourbonnois this race remaineth yet. Others grew in length of body, and of those came the Giants, and of them\nPantagruel.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-03 The user is reading a book]\n<User> And the first was Chalbroth,\nWho begat Sarabroth,\nWho begat Faribroth,\nWho begat Hurtali, that was a brave eater of pottage, and reigned\n  in the time of the flood;\nWho begat Nembroth,\nWho begat Atlas, that with his shoulders kept the sky from falling;\nWho begat Goliah,\nWho begat Erix, that invented the hocus pocus plays of legerdemain;\nWho begat Titius,\nWho begat Eryon,\nWho begat Polyphemus,\nWho begat Cacus,\nWho begat Etion, the first man that ever had the pox, for not drinking\n  fresh in summer, as Bartachin witnesseth;\nWho begat Enceladus,\nWho begat Ceus,\nWho begat Tiphaeus,\nWho begat Alaeus,\nWho begat Othus,\nWho begat Aegeon,\nWho begat Briareus, that had a hundred hands;\nWho begat Porphyrio,\nWho begat Adamastor,\nWho begat Anteus,\nWho begat Agatho,\nWho begat Porus, against whom fought Alexander the Great;\nWho begat Aranthas,\nWho begat Gabbara, that was the first inventor of the drinking of\n  healths;\nWho begat Goliah of Secondille,\nWho begat Offot, that was terribly well nosed for drinking at the\n  barrel-head;\nWho begat Artachaeus,\nWho begat Oromedon,\nWho begat Gemmagog, the first inventor of Poulan shoes, which are\n  open on the foot and tied over the instep with a lachet;\nWho begat Sisyphus,\nWho begat the Titans, of whom Hercules was born;\nWho begat Enay, the most skilful man that ever was in matter of\n  taking the little worms (called cirons) out of the hands;\nWho begat Fierabras, that was vanquished by Oliver, peer of France\n  and Roland's comrade;\nWho begat Morgan, the first in the world that played at dice with\n  spectacles;\nWho begat Fracassus, of whom Merlin Coccaius hath written, and of\n  him was born Ferragus,\nWho begat Hapmouche, the first that ever invented the drying of\n  neat's tongues in the chimney; for, before that, people salted\n  them as they do now gammons of bacon;\nWho begat Bolivorax,\nWho begat Longis,\nWho begat Gayoffo, whose ballocks were of poplar, and his pr... of\n  the service or sorb-apple-tree;\nWho begat Maschefain,\nWho begat Bruslefer,\nWho begat Angoulevent,\nWho begat Galehaut, the inventor of flagons;\nWho begat Mirelangaut,\nWho begat Gallaffre,\nWho begat Falourdin,\nWho begat Roboast,\nWho begat Sortibrant of Conimbres,\nWho begat Brushant of Mommiere,\nWho begat Bruyer that was overcome by Ogier the Dane, peer of\n  France;\nWho begat Mabrun,\nWho begat Foutasnon,\nWho begat Haquelebac,\nWho begat Vitdegrain,\nWho begat Grangousier,\nWho begat Gargantua,\nWho begat the noble Pantagruel, my master. I know that, reading this passage, you will make a doubt within yourselves,\nand that grounded upon very good reason, which is this--how it is possible\nthat this relation can be true, seeing at the time of the flood all the\nworld was destroyed, except Noah and seven persons more with him in the\nark, into whose number Hurtali is not admitted. Doubtless the demand is\nwell made and very apparent, but the answer shall satisfy you, or my wit is\nnot rightly caulked. And because I was not at that time to tell you\nanything of my own fancy, I will bring unto you the authority of the\nMassorets, good honest fellows, true ballockeering blades and exact\nHebraical bagpipers, who affirm that verily the said Hurtali was not within\nthe ark of Noah, neither could he get in, for he was too big, but he sat\nastride upon it, with one leg on the one side and another on the other, as\nlittle children use to do upon their wooden horses; or as the great bull of\nBerne, which was killed at Marinian, did ride for his hackney the great\nmurdering piece called the canon-pevier, a pretty beast of a fair and\npleasant amble without all question. In that posture, he, after God, saved the said ark from danger, for with\nhis legs he gave it the brangle that was needful, and with his foot turned\nit whither he pleased, as a ship answereth her rudder. Those that were\nwithin sent him up victuals in abundance by a chimney, as people very\nthankfully acknowledging the good that he did them. And sometimes they did\ntalk together as Icaromenippus did to Jupiter, according to the report of\nLucian. Have you understood all this well? Drink then one good draught\nwithout water, for if you believe it not,--no truly do I not, quoth she. Of the nativity of the most dread and redoubted Pantagruel. Gargantua at the age of four hundred fourscore forty and four years begat\nhis son Pantagruel, upon his wife named Badebec, daughter to the king of\nthe Amaurots in Utopia, who died in childbirth; for he was so wonderfully\ngreat and lumpish that he could not possibly come forth into the light of\nthe world without thus suffocating his mother. But that we may fully\nunderstand the cause and reason of the name of Pantagruel which at his\nbaptism was given him, you are to remark that in that year there was so\ngreat drought over all the country of Africa that there passed thirty and\nsix months, three weeks, four days, thirteen hours and a little more\nwithout rain, but with a heat so vehement that the whole earth was parched\nand withered by it. Neither was it more scorched and dried up with heat in\nthe days of Elijah than it was at that time; for there was not a tree to be\nseen that had either leaf or bloom upon it. The grass was without verdure\nor greenness, the rivers were drained, the fountains dried up, the poor\nfishes, abandoned and forsaken by their proper element, wandering and\ncrying upon the ground most horribly. The birds did fall down from the air\nfor want of moisture and dew wherewith to refresh them. The wolves, foxes,\nharts, wild boars, fallow deer, hares, coneys, weasels, brocks, badgers,\nand other such beasts, were found dead in the fields with their mouths\nopen. In respect of men, there was the pity, you should have seen them lay\nout their tongues like hares that have been run six hours. Many did throw\nthemselves into the wells. Others entered within a cow's belly to be in\nthe shade; those Homer calls Alibants. All the country was idle, and could\ndo no virtue. It was a most lamentable case to have seen the labour of\nmortals in defending themselves from the vehemency of this horrific\ndrought; for they had work enough to do to save the holy water in the\nchurches from being wasted; but there was such order taken by the counsel\nof my lords the cardinals and of our holy Father, that none did dare to\ntake above one lick. Yet when anyone came into the church, you should have\nseen above twenty poor thirsty fellows hang upon him that was the\ndistributor of the water, and that with a wide open throat, gaping for some\nlittle drop, like the rich glutton in Luke, that might fall by, lest\nanything should be lost. O how happy was he in that year who had a cool\ncellar under ground, well plenished with fresh wine! The philosopher reports, in moving the question, Wherefore it is that the\nsea-water is salt, that at the time when Phoebus gave the government of his\nresplendent chariot to his son Phaeton, the said Phaeton, unskilful in the\nart, and not knowing how to keep the ecliptic line betwixt the two tropics\nof the latitude of the sun's course, strayed out of his way, and came so\nnear the earth that he dried up all the countries that were under it,\nburning a great part of the heavens which the philosophers call Via lactea,\nand the huffsnuffs St. James's way; although the most coped, lofty, and\nhigh-crested poets affirm that to be the place where Juno's milk fell when\nshe gave suck to Hercules. The earth at that time was so excessively\nheated that it fell into an enormous sweat, yea, such a one as made it\nsweat out the sea, which is therefore salt, because all sweat is salt; and\nthis you cannot but confess to be true if you will taste of your own, or of\nthose that have the pox, when they are put into sweating, it is all one to\nme.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-03, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Just such another case fell out this same year:  for on a certain Friday,\nwhen the whole people were bent upon their devotions, and had made goodly\nprocessions, with store of litanies, and fair preachings, and beseechings\nof God Almighty to look down with his eye of mercy upon their miserable and\ndisconsolate condition, there was even then visibly seen issue out of the\nground great drops of water, such as fall from a puff-bagged man in a top\nsweat, and the poor hoidens began to rejoice as if it had been a thing very\nprofitable unto them; for some said that there was not one drop of moisture\nin the air whence they might have any rain, and that the earth did supply\nthe default of that. Other learned men said that it was a shower of the\nantipodes, as Seneca saith in his fourth book Quaestionum naturalium,\nspeaking of the source and spring of Nilus. But they were deceived, for,\nthe procession being ended, when everyone went about to gather of this dew,\nand to drink of it with full bowls, they found that it was nothing but\npickle and the very brine of salt, more brackish in taste than the saltest\nwater of the sea. And because in that very day Pantagruel was born, his\nfather gave him that name; for Panta in Greek is as much to say as all, and\nGruel in the Hagarene language doth signify thirsty, inferring hereby that\nat his birth the whole world was a-dry and thirsty, as likewise foreseeing\nthat he would be some day supreme lord and sovereign of the thirsty\nEthrappels, which was shown to him at that very same hour by a more evident\nsign. For when his mother Badebec was in the bringing of him forth, and\nthat the midwives did wait to receive him, there came first out of her\nbelly three score and eight tregeneers, that is, salt-sellers, every one of\nthem leading in a halter a mule heavy laden with salt; after whom issued\nforth nine dromedaries, with great loads of gammons of bacon and dried\nneat's tongues on their backs. Then followed seven camels loaded with\nlinks and chitterlings, hogs' puddings, and sausages. After them came out\nfive great wains, full of leeks, garlic, onions, and chibots, drawn with\nfive-and-thirty strong cart-horses, which was six for every one, besides\nthe thiller. At the sight hereof the said midwives were much amazed, yet\nsome of them said, Lo, here is good provision, and indeed we need it; for\nwe drink but lazily, as if our tongues walked on crutches, and not lustily\nlike Lansman Dutches. Truly this is a good sign; there is nothing here but\nwhat is fit for us; these are the spurs of wine, that set it a-going. As\nthey were tattling thus together after their own manner of chat, behold! out comes Pantagruel all hairy like a bear, whereupon one of them, inspired\nwith a prophetical spirit, said, This will be a terrible fellow; he is born\nwith all his hair; he is undoubtedly to do wonderful things, and if he live\nhe shall have age. Of the grief wherewith Gargantua was moved at the decease of his wife\nBadebec. When Pantagruel was born, there was none more astonished and perplexed than\nwas his father Gargantua; for of the one side seeing his wife Badebec dead,\nand on the other side his son Pantagruel born, so fair and so great, he\nknew not what to say nor what to do. And the doubt that troubled his brain\nwas to know whether he should cry for the death of his wife or laugh for\nthe joy of his son. He was hinc inde choked with sophistical arguments,\nfor he framed them very well in modo et figura, but he could not resolve\nthem, remaining pestered and entangled by this means, like a mouse caught\nin a trap or kite snared in a gin. Shall I weep? said he. Yes, for why? My so good wife is dead, who was the most this, the most that, that ever\nwas in the world. Never shall I see her, never shall I recover such\nanother; it is unto me an inestimable loss! O my good God, what had I done\nthat thou shouldest thus punish me? Why didst thou not take me away before\nher, seeing for me to live without her is but to languish? Ah, Badebec,\nBadebec, my minion, my dear heart, my sugar, my sweeting, my honey, my\nlittle c-- (yet it had in circumference full six acres, three rods, five\npoles, four yards, two foot, one inch and a half of good woodland measure),\nmy tender peggy, my codpiece darling, my bob and hit, my slipshoe-lovey,\nnever shall I see thee! Ah, poor Pantagruel, thou hast lost thy good\nmother, thy sweet nurse, thy well-beloved lady! O false death, how\ninjurious and despiteful hast thou been to me! How malicious and\noutrageous have I found thee in taking her from me, my well-beloved wife,\nto whom immortality did of right belong! With these words he did cry like a cow, but on a sudden fell a-laughing\nlike a calf, when Pantagruel came into his mind. Ha, my little son, said\nhe, my childilolly, fedlifondy, dandlichucky, my ballocky, my pretty rogue! O how jolly thou art, and how much am I bound to my gracious God, that hath\nbeen pleased to bestow on me a son so fair, so spriteful, so lively, so\nsmiling, so pleasant, and so gentle! Ho, ho, ho, ho, how glad I am! Let\nus drink, ho, and put away melancholy! Bring of the best, rinse the\nglasses, lay the cloth, drive out these dogs, blow this fire, light\ncandles, shut that door there, cut this bread in sippets for brewis, send\naway these poor folks in giving them what they ask, hold my gown. I will\nstrip myself into my doublet (en cuerpo), to make the gossips merry, and\nkeep them company. As he spake this, he heard the litanies and the mementos of the priests\nthat carried his wife to be buried, upon which he left the good purpose he\nwas in, and was suddenly ravished another way, saying, Lord God! must I\nagain contrist myself? This grieves me. I am no longer young, I grow old,\nthe weather is dangerous; I may perhaps take an ague, then shall I be\nfoiled, if not quite undone. By the faith of a gentleman, it were better\nto cry less, and drink more. My wife is dead, well, by G--! (da jurandi) I\nshall not raise her again by my crying:  she is well, she is in paradise at\nleast, if she be no higher:  she prayeth to God for us, she is happy, she\nis above the sense of our miseries, nor can our calamities reach her. What\nthough she be dead, must not we also die? The same debt which she hath\npaid hangs over our heads; nature will require it of us, and we must all of\nus some day taste of the same sauce. Let her pass then, and the Lord\npreserve the survivors; for I must now cast about how to get another wife. But I will tell you what you shall do, said he to the midwives, in France\ncalled wise women (where be they, good folks? I cannot see them):  Go you\nto my wife's interment, and I will the while rock my son; for I find myself\nsomewhat altered and distempered, and should otherwise be in danger of\nfalling sick; but drink one good draught first, you will be the better for\nit. And believe me, upon mine honour, they at his request went to her\nburial and funeral obsequies. In the meanwhile, poor Gargantua staying at\nhome, and willing to have somewhat in remembrance of her to be engraven\nupon her tomb, made this epitaph in the manner as followeth. Dead is the noble Badebec,\n  Who had a face like a rebeck;\n  A Spanish body, and a belly\n  Of Switzerland; she died, I tell ye,\n  In childbirth. Pray to God, that her\n  He pardon wherein she did err. Here lies her body, which did live\n  Free from all vice, as I believe,\n    And did decease at my bedside,\n    The year and day in which she died. Of the infancy of Pantagruel.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-05 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I find by the ancient historiographers and poets that divers have been born\nin this world after very strange manners, which would be too long to\nrepeat; read therefore the seventh chapter of Pliny, if you have so much\nleisure. Yet have you never heard of any so wonderful as that of\nPantagruel; for it is a very difficult matter to believe, how in the little\ntime he was in his mother's belly he grew both in body and strength. That\nwhich Hercules did was nothing, when in his cradle he slew two serpents,\nfor those serpents were but little and weak, but Pantagruel, being yet in\nthe cradle, did far more admirable things, and more to be amazed at. I\npass by here the relation of how at every one of his meals he supped up the\nmilk of four thousand and six hundred cows, and how, to make him a skillet\nto boil his milk in, there were set a-work all the braziers of Somure in\nAnjou, of Villedieu in Normandy, and of Bramont in Lorraine. And they\nserved in this whitepot-meat to him in a huge great bell, which is yet to\nbe seen in the city of Bourges in Berry, near the palace, but his teeth\nwere already so well grown, and so strengthened with vigour, that of the\nsaid bell he bit off a great morsel, as very plainly doth appear till this\nhour. One day in the morning, when they would have made him suck one of his cows\n--for he never had any other nurse, as the history tells us--he got one of\nhis arms loose from the swaddling bands wherewith he was kept fast in the\ncradle, laid hold on the said cow under the left foreham, and grasping her\nto him ate up her udder and half of her paunch, with the liver and the\nkidneys, and had devoured all up if she had not cried out most horribly, as\nif the wolves had held her by the legs, at which noise company came in and\ntook away the said cow from Pantagruel. Yet could they not so well do it\nbut that the quarter whereby he caught her was left in his hand, of which\nquarter he gulped up the flesh in a trice, even with as much ease as you\nwould eat a sausage, and that so greedily with desire of more, that, when\nthey would have taken away the bone from him, he swallowed it down whole,\nas a cormorant would do a little fish; and afterwards began fumblingly to\nsay, Good, good, good--for he could not yet speak plain--giving them to\nunderstand thereby that he had found it very good, and that he did lack but\nso much more. Which when they saw that attended him, they bound him with\ngreat cable-ropes, like those that are made at Tain for the carriage of\nsalt to Lyons, or such as those are whereby the great French ship rides at\nanchor in the road of Newhaven in Normandy. But, on a certain time, a\ngreat bear, which his father had bred, got loose, came towards him, began\nto lick his face, for his nurses had not thoroughly wiped his chaps, at\nwhich unexpected approach being on a sudden offended, he as lightly rid\nhimself of those great cables as Samson did of the hawser ropes wherewith\nthe Philistines had tied him, and, by your leave, takes me up my lord the\nbear, and tears him to you in pieces like a pullet, which served him for a\ngorgeful or good warm bit for that meal. Whereupon Gargantua, fearing lest the child should hurt himself, caused\nfour great chains of iron to be made to bind him, and so many strong wooden\narches unto his cradle, most firmly stocked and morticed in huge frames. Of those chains you have one at Rochelle, which they draw up at night\nbetwixt the two great towers of the haven. Another is at Lyons,--a third\nat Angiers,--and the fourth was carried away by the devils to bind Lucifer,\nwho broke his chains in those days by reason of a colic that did\nextraordinarily torment him, taken with eating a sergeant's soul fried for\nhis breakfast. And therefore you may believe that which Nicholas de Lyra\nsaith upon that place of the Psalter where it is written, Et Og Regem\nBasan, that the said Og, being yet little, was so strong and robustious,\nthat they were fain to bind him with chains of iron in his cradle. Thus\ncontinued Pantagruel for a while very calm and quiet, for he was not able\nso easily to break those chains, especially having no room in the cradle to\ngive a swing with his arms. But see what happened once upon a great\nholiday that his father Gargantua made a sumptuous banquet to all the\nprinces of his court. I am apt to believe that the menial officers of the\nhouse were so embusied in waiting each on his proper service at the feast,\nthat nobody took care of poor Pantagruel, who was left a reculorum,\nbehindhand, all alone, and as forsaken. What did he? Hark what he did,\ngood people. He strove and essayed to break the chains of the cradle with\nhis arms, but could not, for they were too strong for him. Then did he\nkeep with his feet such a stamping stir, and so long, that at last he beat\nout the lower end of his cradle, which notwithstanding was made of a great\npost five foot in square; and as soon as he had gotten out his feet, he\nslid down as well as he could till he had got his soles to the ground, and\nthen with a mighty force he rose up, carrying his cradle upon his back,\nbound to him like a tortoise that crawls up against a wall; and to have\nseen him, you would have thought it had been a great carrick of five\nhundred tons upon one end. In this manner he entered into the great hall\nwhere they were banqueting, and that very boldly, which did much affright\nthe company; yet, because his arms were tied in, he could not reach\nanything to eat, but with great pain stooped now and then a little to take\nwith the whole flat of his tongue some lick, good bit, or morsel. Which\nwhen his father saw, he knew well enough that they had left him without\ngiving him anything to eat, and therefore commanded that he should be\nloosed from the said chains, by the counsel of the princes and lords there\npresent. Besides that also the physicians of Gargantua said that, if they\ndid thus keep him in the cradle, he would be all his lifetime subject to\nthe stone. When he was unchained, they made him to sit down, where, after\nhe had fed very well, he took his cradle and broke it into more than five\nhundred thousand pieces with one blow of his fist that he struck in the\nmidst of it, swearing that he would never come into it again. Of the acts of the noble Pantagruel in his youthful age. Thus grew Pantagruel from day to day, and to everyone's eye waxed more and\nmore in all his dimensions, which made his father to rejoice by a natural\naffection. Therefore caused he to be made for him, whilst he was yet\nlittle, a pretty crossbow wherewith to shoot at small birds, which now they\ncall the great crossbow at Chantelle. Then he sent him to the school to\nlearn, and to spend his youth in virtue. In the prosecution of which\ndesign he came first to Poictiers, where, as he studied and profited very\nmuch, he saw that the scholars were oftentimes at leisure and knew not how\nto bestow their time, which moved him to take such compassion on them, that\none day he took from a long ledge of rocks, called there Passelourdin, a\nhuge great stone, of about twelve fathom square and fourteen handfuls\nthick, and with great ease set it upon four pillars in the midst of a\nfield, to no other end but that the said scholars, when they had nothing\nelse to do, might pass their time in getting up on that stone, and feast it\nwith store of gammons, pasties, and flagons, and carve their names upon it\nwith a knife, in token of which deed till this hour the stone is called the\nlifted stone. And in remembrance hereof there is none entered into the\nregister and matricular book of the said university, or accounted capable\nof taking any degree therein, till he have first drunk in the caballine\nfountain of Croustelles, passed at Passelourdin, and got up upon the lifted\nstone. Afterwards, reading the delectable chronicles of his ancestors, he found\nthat Geoffrey of Lusignan, called Geoffrey with the great tooth,\ngrandfather to the cousin-in-law of the eldest sister of the aunt of the\nson-in-law of the uncle of the good daughter of his stepmother, was\ninterred at Maillezais; therefore one day he took campos (which is a little\nvacation from study to play a while), that he might give him a visit as\nunto an honest man.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-05, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> And going from Poictiers with some of his companions,\nthey passed by the Guge (Leguge), visiting the noble Abbot Ardillon; then\nby Lusignan, by Sansay, by Celles, by Coolonges, by Fontenay-le-Comte,\nsaluting the learned Tiraqueau, and from thence arrived at Maillezais,\nwhere he went to see the sepulchre of the said Geoffrey with the great\ntooth; which made him somewhat afraid, looking upon the picture, whose\nlively draughts did set him forth in the representation of a man in an\nextreme fury, drawing his great Malchus falchion half way out of his\nscabbard. When the reason hereof was demanded, the canons of the said\nplace told him that there was no other cause of it but that Pictoribus\natque Poetis, &c., that is to say, that painters and poets have liberty to\npaint and devise what they list after their own fancy. But he was not\nsatisfied with their answer, and said, He is not thus painted without a\ncause, and I suspect that at his death there was some wrong done him,\nwhereof he requireth his kindred to take revenge. I will inquire further\ninto it, and then do what shall be reasonable. Then he returned not to\nPoictiers, but would take a view of the other universities of France. Therefore, going to Rochelle, he took shipping and arrived at Bordeaux,\nwhere he found no great exercise, only now and then he would see some\nmariners and lightermen a-wrestling on the quay or strand by the\nriver-side. From thence he came to Toulouse, where he learned to dance very\nwell, and to play with the two-handed sword, as the fashion of the scholars\nof the said university is to bestir themselves in games whereof they may\nhave their hands full; but he stayed not long there when he saw that they\ndid cause burn their regents alive like red herring, saying, Now God forbid\nthat I should die this death! for I am by nature sufficiently dry already,\nwithout heating myself any further. He went then to Montpellier, where he met with the good wives of Mirevaux,\nand good jovial company withal, and thought to have set himself to the\nstudy of physic; but he considered that that calling was too troublesome\nand melancholic, and that physicians did smell of glisters like old devils. Therefore he resolved he would study the laws; but seeing that there were\nbut three scald- and one bald-pated legist in that place, he departed from\nthence, and in his way made the bridge of Guard and the amphitheatre of\nNimes in less than three hours, which, nevertheless, seems to be a more\ndivine than human work. After that he came to Avignon, where he was not\nabove three days before he fell in love; for the women there take great\ndelight in playing at the close-buttock game, because it is papal ground. Which his tutor and pedagogue Epistemon perceiving, he drew him out of that\nplace, and brought him to Valence in the Dauphiny, where he saw no great\nmatter of recreation, only that the lubbers of the town did beat the\nscholars, which so incensed him with anger, that when, upon a certain very\nfair Sunday, the people being at their public dancing in the streets, and\none of the scholars offering to put himself into the ring to partake of\nthat sport, the foresaid lubberly fellows would not permit him the\nadmittance into their society, he, taking the scholar's part, so belaboured\nthem with blows, and laid such load upon them, that he drove them all\nbefore him, even to the brink of the river Rhone, and would have there\ndrowned them, but that they did squat to the ground, and there lay close a\nfull half-league under the river. The hole is to be seen there yet. After that he departed from thence, and in three strides and one leap came\nto Angiers, where he found himself very well, and would have continued\nthere some space, but that the plague drove them away. So from thence he\ncame to Bourges, where he studied a good long time, and profited very much\nin the faculty of the laws, and would sometimes say that the books of the\ncivil law were like unto a wonderfully precious, royal, and triumphant robe\nof cloth of gold edged with dirt; for in the world are no goodlier books to\nbe seen, more ornate, nor more eloquent than the texts of the Pandects, but\nthe bordering of them, that is to say, the gloss of Accursius, is so\nscurvy, vile, base, and unsavoury, that it is nothing but filthiness and\nvillainy. Going from Bourges, he came to Orleans, where he found store of swaggering\nscholars that made him great entertainment at his coming, and with whom he\nlearned to play at tennis so well that he was a master at that game. For\nthe students of the said place make a prime exercise of it; and sometimes\nthey carried him unto Cupid's houses of commerce (in that city termed\nislands, because of their being most ordinarily environed with other\nhouses, and not contiguous to any), there to recreate his person at the\nsport of poussavant, which the wenches of London call the ferkers in and\nin. As for breaking his head with over-much study, he had an especial care\nnot to do it in any case, for fear of spoiling his eyes. Which he the\nrather observed, for that it was told him by one of his teachers, there\ncalled regents, that the pain of the eyes was the most hurtful thing of any\nto the sight. For this cause, when he one day was made a licentiate, or\ngraduate in law, one of the scholars of his acquaintance, who of learning\nhad not much more than his burden, though instead of that he could dance\nvery well and play at tennis, made the blazon and device of the licentiates\nin the said university, saying,\n\n  So you have in your hand a racket,\n  A tennis-ball in your cod-placket,\n  A Pandect law in your cap's tippet,\n  And that you have the skill to trip it\n  In a low dance, you will b' allowed\n  The grant of the licentiate's hood. How Pantagruel met with a Limousin, who too affectedly did counterfeit the\nFrench language. Upon a certain day, I know not when, Pantagruel walking after supper with\nsome of his fellow-students without that gate of the city through which we\nenter on the road to Paris, encountered with a young spruce-like scholar\nthat was coming upon the same very way, and, after they had saluted one\nanother, asked him thus, My friend, from whence comest thou now? The\nscholar answered him, From the alme, inclyte, and celebrate academy, which\nis vocitated Lutetia. What is the meaning of this? said Pantagruel to one\nof his men. It is, answered he, from Paris. Thou comest from Paris then,\nsaid Pantagruel; and how do you spend your time there, you my masters the\nstudents of Paris? The scholar answered, We transfretate the Sequan at the\ndilucul and crepuscul; we deambulate by the compites and quadrives of the\nurb; we despumate the Latial verbocination; and, like verisimilary\namorabons, we captat the benevolence of the omnijugal, omniform and\nomnigenal feminine sex. Upon certain diecules we invisat the lupanares,\nand in a venerian ecstasy inculcate our veretres into the penitissime\nrecesses of the pudends of these amicabilissim meretricules. Then do we\ncauponisate in the meritory taberns of the Pineapple, the Castle, the\nMagdalene, and the Mule, goodly vervecine spatules perforaminated with\npetrocile. And if by fortune there be rarity or penury of pecune in our\nmarsupies, and that they be exhausted of ferruginean metal, for the shot we\ndimit our codices and oppignerat our vestments, whilst we prestolate the\ncoming of the tabellaries from the Penates and patriotic Lares. To which\nPantagruel answered, What devilish language is this? By the Lord, I think\nthou art some kind of heretick. My lord, no, said the scholar; for\nlibentissimally, as soon as it illucesceth any minutule slice of the day, I\ndemigrate into one of these so well architected minsters, and there,\nirrorating myself with fair lustral water, I mumble off little parcels of\nsome missic precation of our sacrificuls, and, submurmurating my horary\nprecules, I elevate and absterge my anime from its nocturnal inquinations. I revere the Olympicols.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I latrially venere the supernal Astripotent. I\ndilige and redame my proxims. I observe the decalogical precepts, and,\naccording to the facultatule of my vires, I do not discede from them one\nlate unguicule. Nevertheless, it is veriform, that because Mammona doth\nnot supergurgitate anything in my loculs, that I am somewhat rare and lent\nto supererogate the elemosynes to those egents that hostially queritate\ntheir stipe. Prut, tut, said Pantagruel, what doth this fool mean to say? I think he is\nupon the forging of some diabolical tongue, and that enchanter-like he\nwould charm us. To whom one of his men said, Without doubt, sir, this\nfellow would counterfeit the language of the Parisians, but he doth only\nflay the Latin, imagining by so doing that he doth highly Pindarize it in\nmost eloquent terms, and strongly conceiteth himself to be therefore a\ngreat orator in the French, because he disdaineth the common manner of\nspeaking. To which Pantagruel said, Is it true? The scholar answered, My\nworshipful lord, my genie is not apt nate to that which this flagitious\nnebulon saith, to excoriate the cut(ic)ule of our vernacular Gallic, but\nvice-versally I gnave opere, and by veles and rames enite to locupletate it\nwith the Latinicome redundance. By G--, said Pantagruel, I will teach you\nto speak. But first come hither, and tell me whence thou art. To this the\nscholar answered, The primeval origin of my aves and ataves was indigenary\nof the Lemovic regions, where requiesceth the corpor of the hagiotat St. Martial. I understand thee very well, said Pantagruel. When all comes to\nall, thou art a Limousin, and thou wilt here by thy affected speech\ncounterfeit the Parisians. Well now, come hither, I must show thee a new\ntrick, and handsomely give thee the combfeat. With this he took him by the\nthroat, saying to him, Thou flayest the Latin; by St. John, I will make\nthee flay the fox, for I will now flay thee alive. Then began the poor\nLimousin to cry, Haw, gwid maaster! haw, Laord, my halp, and St. Marshaw! haw, I'm worried. Haw, my thropple, the bean of my cragg is bruck! Haw,\nfor gauad's seck lawt my lean, mawster; waw, waw, waw. Now, said\nPantagruel, thou speakest naturally, and so let him go, for the poor\nLimousin had totally bewrayed and thoroughly conshit his breeches, which\nwere not deep and large enough, but round straight cannioned gregs, having\nin the seat a piece like a keeling's tail, and therefore in French called,\nde chausses a queue de merlus. Then, said Pantagruel, St. Alipantin, what\ncivet? Fie! to the devil with this turnip-eater, as he stinks! and so let\nhim go. But this hug of Pantagruel's was such a terror to him all the days\nof his life, and took such deep impression in his fancy, that very often,\ndistracted with sudden affrightments, he would startle and say that\nPantagruel held him by the neck. Besides that, it procured him a continual\ndrought and desire to drink, so that after some few years he died of the\ndeath Roland, in plain English called thirst, a work of divine vengeance,\nshowing us that which saith the philosopher and Aulus Gellius, that it\nbecometh us to speak according to the common language; and that we should,\nas said Octavian Augustus, strive to shun all strange and unknown terms\nwith as much heedfulness and circumspection as pilots of ships use to avoid\nthe rocks and banks in the sea. How Pantagruel came to Paris, and of the choice books of the Library of St.\nVictor. After that Pantagruel had studied very well at Orleans, he resolved to see\nthe great University at Paris; but, before his departure, he was informed\nthat there was a huge big bell at St. Anian in the said town of Orleans,\nunder the ground, which had been there above two hundred and fourteen\nyears, for it was so great that they could not by any device get it so much\nas above the ground, although they used all the means that are found in\nVitruvius de Architectura, Albertus de Re Aedificatoria, Euclid, Theon,\nArchimedes, and Hero de Ingeniis; for all that was to no purpose. Wherefore, condescending heartily to the humble request of the citizens and\ninhabitants of the said town, he determined to remove it to the tower that\nwas erected for it. With that he came to the place where it was, and\nlifted it out of the ground with his little finger as easily as you would\nhave done a hawk's bell or bellwether's tingle-tangle; but, before he would\ncarry it to the foresaid tower or steeple appointed for it, he would needs\nmake some music with it about the town, and ring it alongst all the streets\nas he carried it in his hand, wherewith all the people were very glad. But\nthere happened one great inconveniency, for with carrying it so, and\nringing it about the streets, all the good Orleans wine turned instantly,\nwaxed flat and was spoiled, which nobody there did perceive till the night\nfollowing; for every man found himself so altered and a-dry with drinking\nthese flat wines, that they did nothing but spit, and that as white as\nMalta cotton, saying, We have of the Pantagruel, and our very throats are\nsalted. This done, he came to Paris with his retinue. And at his entry\neveryone came out to see him--as you know well enough that the people of\nParis is sottish by nature, by B flat and B sharp--and beheld him with\ngreat astonishment, mixed with no less fear that he would carry away the\npalace into some other country, a remotis, and far from them, as his father\nformerly had done the great peal of bells at Our Lady's Church to tie about\nhis mare's neck. Now after he had stayed there a pretty space, and studied\nvery well in all the seven liberal arts, he said it was a good town to live\nin, but not to die; for that the grave-digging rogues of St. Innocent used\nin frosty nights to warm their bums with dead men's bones. In his abode\nthere he found the library of St. Victor a very stately and magnific one,\nespecially in some books which were there, of which followeth the Repertory\nand Catalogue, Et primo,\n\nThe for Godsake of Salvation. The Codpiece of the Law. The Slipshoe of the Decretals. The Pomegranate of Vice. The Clew-bottom of Theology. The Duster or Foxtail-flap of Preachers, composed by Turlupin. The Churning Ballock of the Valiant. The Henbane of the Bishops. Marmotretus de baboonis et apis, cum Commento Dorbellis. Decretum Universitatis Parisiensis super gorgiasitate muliercularum\n  ad placitum. The Apparition of Sancte Geltrude to a Nun of Poissy, being in\n  travail at the bringing forth of a child. Ars honeste fartandi in societate, per Marcum Corvinum (Ortuinum). The Mustard-pot of Penance. The Gamashes, alias the Boots of Patience. Formicarium artium. De brodiorum usu, et honestate quartandi, per Sylvestrem Prioratem\n  Jacobinum. The Cosened or Gulled in Court. The Frail of the Scriveners. The Marriage-packet. The Cruizy or Crucible of Contemplation. The Flimflams of the Law. The Prickle of Wine. The Spur of Cheese. Ruboffatorium (Decrotatorium) scholarium. Tartaretus de modo cacandi. The Bravades of Rome. Bricot de Differentiis Browsarum. The Tailpiece-Cushion, or Close-breech of Discipline. The Cobbled Shoe of Humility. The Trivet of good Thoughts. The Kettle of Magnanimity. The Cavilling Entanglements of Confessors. The Snatchfare of the Curates. Reverendi patris fratris Lubini, provincialis Bavardiae, de gulpendis\n  lardslicionibus libri tres.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-11 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Pasquilli Doctoris Marmorei, de capreolis cum artichoketa comedendis,\n  tempore Papali ab Ecclesia interdicto. The Invention of the Holy Cross, personated by six wily Priests. The Spectacles of Pilgrims bound for Rome. Majoris de modo faciendi puddinos. The Bagpipe of the Prelates. Beda de optimitate triparum. The Complaint of the Barristers upon the Reformation of Comfits. The Furred Cat of the Solicitors and Attorneys. Of Peas and Bacon, cum Commento. The Small Vales or Drinking Money of the Indulgences. Praeclarissimi juris utriusque Doctoris Maistre Pilloti, &c.,\n  Scrap-farthingi de botchandis glossae Accursianae Triflis repetitio\n  enucidi-luculidissima. Stratagemata Francharchiaeri de Baniolet. Carlbumpkinus de Re Militari cum Figuris Tevoti. De usu et utilitate flayandi equos et equas, authore Magistro nostro\n  de Quebecu. The Sauciness of Country-Stewards. M.N. Rostocostojambedanesse de mustarda post prandium servienda,\n  libri quatuordecim, apostillati per M. Vaurillonis. The Covillage or Wench-tribute of Promoters. (Jabolenus de Cosmographia Purgatorii.) Quaestio subtilissima, utrum Chimaera in vacuo bonbinans possit\n  comedere secundas intentiones; et fuit debatuta per decem\n  hebdomadas in Consilio Constantiensi. The Bridle-champer of the Advocates. Smutchudlamenta Scoti. The Rasping and Hard-scraping of the Cardinals. De calcaribus removendis, Decades undecim, per M. Albericum de Rosata. Ejusdem de castramentandis criminibus libri tres. The Entrance of Anthony de Leve into the Territories of Brazil. (Marforii, bacalarii cubantis Romae) de peelandis aut unskinnandis\n  blurrandisque Cardinalium mulis. The said Author's Apology against those who allege that the Pope's\n  mule doth eat but at set times. Prognosticatio quae incipit, Silvii Triquebille, balata per M.N., the\n  deep-dreaming gull Sion. Boudarini Episcopi de emulgentiarum profectibus Aeneades novem,\n  cum privilegio Papali ad triennium et postea non. The Shitabranna of the Maids. The Bald Arse or Peeled Breech of the Widows. The Cowl or Capouch of the Monks. The Mumbling Devotion of the Celestine Friars. The Passage-toll of Beggarliness. The Teeth-chatter or Gum-didder of Lubberly Lusks. The Paring-shovel of the Theologues. The Drench-horn of the Masters of Arts. The Scullions of Olcam, the uninitiated Clerk. Magistri N. Lickdishetis, de garbellisiftationibus horarum canonicarum,\n  libri quadriginta. Arsiversitatorium confratriarum, incerto authore. The Gulsgoatony or Rasher of Cormorants and Ravenous Feeders. The Rammishness of the Spaniards supergivuregondigaded by Friar Inigo. The Muttering of Pitiful Wretches. Dastardismus rerum Italicarum, authore Magistro Burnegad. R. Lullius de Batisfolagiis Principum. Calibistratorium caffardiae, authore M. Jacobo Hocstraten hereticometra. Codtickler de Magistro nostrandorum Magistro nostratorumque beuvetis,\n  libri octo galantissimi. The Crackarades of Balists or stone-throwing Engines, Contrepate\n  Clerks, Scriveners, Brief-writers, Rapporters, and Papal\n  Bull-despatchers lately compiled by Regis. A perpetual Almanack for those that have the gout and the pox. Manera sweepandi fornacellos per Mag. Eccium. The Shable or Scimetar of Merchants. The Pleasures of the Monachal Life. The Hotchpot of Hypocrites. The History of the Hobgoblins. The Ragamuffinism of the pensionary maimed Soldiers. The Gulling Fibs and Counterfeit shows of Commissaries. The Litter of Treasurers. The Juglingatorium of Sophisters. Antipericatametanaparbeugedamphicribrationes Toordicantium. The Periwinkle of Ballad-makers. The Push-forward of the Alchemists. The Niddy-noddy of the Satchel-loaded Seekers, by Friar Bindfastatis. The Shackles of Religion. The Racket of Swag-waggers. The Leaning-stock of old Age. The Muzzle of Nobility. The Ape's Paternoster. The Crickets and Hawk's-bells of Devotion. The Pot of the Ember-weeks. The Mortar of the Politic Life. The Flap of the Hermits. The Riding-hood or Monterg of the Penitentiaries. The Trictrac of the Knocking Friars. Blockheadodus, de vita et honestate bragadochiorum. Lyrippii Sorbonici Moralisationes, per M. Lupoldum. The Carrier-horse-bells of Travellers. The Bibbings of the tippling Bishops. Dolloporediones Doctorum Coloniensium adversus Reuclin. The Cymbals of Ladies. The Dunger's Martingale. Whirlingfriskorum Chasemarkerorum per Fratrem Crackwoodloguetis. The Clouted Patches of a Stout Heart. The Mummery of the Racket-keeping Robin-goodfellows. Gerson, de auferibilitate Papae ab Ecclesia. The Catalogue of the Nominated and Graduated Persons. Jo. Dytebrodii, terribilitate excommunicationis libellus acephalos. Ingeniositas invocandi diabolos et diabolas, per M. Guingolphum. The Hotchpotch or Gallimaufry of the perpetually begging Friars. The Morris-dance of the Heretics. The Whinings of Cajetan. Muddisnout Doctoris Cherubici, de origine Roughfootedarum, et\n  Wryneckedorum ritibus, libri septem. Sixty-nine fat Breviaries. The Nightmare of the five Orders of Beggars. The Skinnery of the new Start-ups extracted out of the fallow-butt,\n  incornifistibulated and plodded upon in the angelic sum. The Raver and idle Talker in cases of Conscience. The Fat Belly of the Presidents. The Baffling Flouter of the Abbots. Sutoris adversus eum qui vocaverat eum Slabsauceatorem, et quod\n  Slabsauceatores non sunt damnati ab Ecclesia. Cacatorium medicorum. The Chimney-sweeper of Astrology. Campi clysteriorum per paragraph C.\nThe Bumsquibcracker of Apothecaries. The Kissbreech of Chirurgery. Justinianus de Whiteleperotis tollendis. Antidotarium animae. Merlinus Coccaius, de patria diabolorum. The Practice of Iniquity, by Cleuraunes Sadden. The Mirror of Baseness, by Radnecu Waldenses. The Engrained Rogue, by Dwarsencas Eldenu. The Merciless Cormorant, by Hoxinidno the Jew. Of which library some books are already printed, and the rest are now at\nthe press in this noble city of Tubingen. How Pantagruel, being at Paris, received letters from his father Gargantua,\nand the copy of them. Pantagruel studied very hard, as you may well conceive, and profited\naccordingly; for he had an excellent understanding and notable wit,\ntogether with a capacity in memory equal to the measure of twelve oil\nbudgets or butts of olives. And, as he was there abiding one day, he\nreceived a letter from his father in manner as followeth. Most dear Son,--Amongst the gifts, graces, and prerogatives, with which the\nsovereign plasmator God Almighty hath endowed and adorned human nature at\nthe beginning, that seems to me most singular and excellent by which we may\nin a mortal state attain to a kind of immortality, and in the course of\nthis transitory life perpetuate our name and seed, which is done by a\nprogeny issued from us in the lawful bonds of matrimony.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-11, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-14 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Whereby that in\nsome measure is restored unto us which was taken from us by the sin of our\nfirst parents, to whom it was said that, because they had not obeyed the\ncommandment of God their Creator, they should die, and by death should be\nbrought to nought that so stately frame and plasmature wherein the man at\nfirst had been created. But by this means of seminal propagation there (\"Which continueth\" in the\nold copy.) continueth in the children what was lost in the parents, and in\nthe grandchildren that which perished in their fathers, and so successively\nuntil the day of the last judgment, when Jesus Christ shall have rendered\nup to God the Father his kingdom in a peaceable condition, out of all\ndanger and contamination of sin; for then shall cease all generations and\ncorruptions, and the elements leave off their continual transmutations,\nseeing the so much desired peace shall be attained unto and enjoyed, and\nthat all things shall be brought to their end and period. And, therefore,\nnot without just and reasonable cause do I give thanks to God my Saviour\nand Preserver, for that he hath enabled me to see my bald old age\nreflourish in thy youth; for when, at his good pleasure, who rules and\ngoverns all things, my soul shall leave this mortal habitation, I shall not\naccount myself wholly to die, but to pass from one place unto another,\nconsidering that, in and by that, I continue in my visible image living in\nthe world, visiting and conversing with people of honour, and other my good\nfriends, as I was wont to do. Which conversation of mine, although it was\nnot without sin, because we are all of us trespassers, and therefore ought\ncontinually to beseech his divine majesty to blot our transgressions out of\nhis memory, yet was it, by the help and grace of God, without all manner of\nreproach before men. Wherefore, if those qualities of the mind but shine in thee wherewith I am\nendowed, as in thee remaineth the perfect image of my body, thou wilt be\nesteemed by all men to be the perfect guardian and treasure of the\nimmortality of our name. But, if otherwise, I shall truly take but small\npleasure to see it, considering that the lesser part of me, which is the\nbody, would abide in thee, and the best, to wit, that which is the soul,\nand by which our name continues blessed amongst men, would be degenerate\nand abastardized. This I do not speak out of any distrust that I have of\nthy virtue, which I have heretofore already tried, but to encourage thee\nyet more earnestly to proceed from good to better. And that which I now\nwrite unto thee is not so much that thou shouldst live in this virtuous\ncourse, as that thou shouldst rejoice in so living and having lived, and\ncheer up thyself with the like resolution in time to come; to the\nprosecution and accomplishment of which enterprise and generous undertaking\nthou mayst easily remember how that I have spared nothing, but have so\nhelped thee, as if I had had no other treasure in this world but to see\nthee once in my life completely well-bred and accomplished, as well in\nvirtue, honesty, and valour, as in all liberal knowledge and civility, and\nso to leave thee after my death as a mirror representing the person of me\nthy father, and if not so excellent, and such in deed as I do wish thee,\nyet such in my desire. But although my deceased father of happy memory, Grangousier, had bent his\nbest endeavours to make me profit in all perfection and political\nknowledge, and that my labour and study was fully correspondent to, yea,\nwent beyond his desire, nevertheless, as thou mayest well understand, the\ntime then was not so proper and fit for learning as it is at present,\nneither had I plenty of such good masters as thou hast had. For that time\nwas darksome, obscured with clouds of ignorance, and savouring a little of\nthe infelicity and calamity of the Goths, who had, wherever they set\nfooting, destroyed all good literature, which in my age hath by the divine\ngoodness been restored unto its former light and dignity, and that with\nsuch amendment and increase of the knowledge, that now hardly should I be\nadmitted unto the first form of the little grammar-schoolboys--I say, I,\nwho in my youthful days was, and that justly, reputed the most learned of\nthat age. Which I do not speak in vain boasting, although I might lawfully\ndo it in writing unto thee--in verification whereof thou hast the authority\nof Marcus Tullius in his book of old age, and the sentence of Plutarch in\nthe book entitled How a man may praise himself without envy--but to give\nthee an emulous encouragement to strive yet further. Now is it that the minds of men are qualified with all manner of\ndiscipline, and the old sciences revived which for many ages were extinct. Now it is that the learned languages are to their pristine purity restored,\nviz., Greek, without which a man may be ashamed to account himself a\nscholar, Hebrew, Arabic, Chaldaean, and Latin. Printing likewise is now in\nuse, so elegant and so correct that better cannot be imagined, although it\nwas found out but in my time by divine inspiration, as by a diabolical\nsuggestion on the other side was the invention of ordnance. All the world\nis full of knowing men, of most learned schoolmasters, and vast libraries;\nand it appears to me as a truth, that neither in Plato's time, nor\nCicero's, nor Papinian's, there was ever such conveniency for studying as\nwe see at this day there is. Nor must any adventure henceforward to come\nin public, or present himself in company, that hath not been pretty well\npolished in the shop of Minerva. I see robbers, hangmen, freebooters,\ntapsters, ostlers, and such like, of the very rubbish of the people, more\nlearned now than the doctors and preachers were in my time. What shall I say? The very women and children have aspired to this praise\nand celestial manner of good learning. Yet so it is that, in the age I am\nnow of, I have been constrained to learn the Greek tongue--which I\ncontemned not like Cato, but had not the leisure in my younger years to\nattend the study of it--and take much delight in the reading of Plutarch's\nMorals, the pleasant Dialogues of Plato, the Monuments of Pausanias, and\nthe Antiquities of Athenaeus, in waiting on the hour wherein God my Creator\nshall call me and command me to depart from this earth and transitory\npilgrimage. Wherefore, my son, I admonish thee to employ thy youth to\nprofit as well as thou canst, both in thy studies and in virtue. Thou art\nat Paris, where the laudable examples of many brave men may stir up thy\nmind to gallant actions, and hast likewise for thy tutor and pedagogue the\nlearned Epistemon, who by his lively and vocal documents may instruct thee\nin the arts and sciences. I intend, and will have it so, that thou learn the languages perfectly;\nfirst of all the Greek, as Quintilian will have it; secondly, the Latin;\nand then the Hebrew, for the Holy Scripture sake; and then the Chaldee and\nArabic likewise, and that thou frame thy style in Greek in imitation of\nPlato, and for the Latin after Cicero. Let there be no history which thou\nshalt not have ready in thy memory; unto the prosecuting of which design,\nbooks of cosmography will be very conducible and help thee much. Of the\nliberal arts of geometry, arithmetic, and music, I gave thee some taste\nwhen thou wert yet little, and not above five or six years old. Proceed\nfurther in them, and learn the remainder if thou canst. As for astronomy,\nstudy all the rules thereof. Let pass, nevertheless, the divining and\njudicial astrology, and the art of Lullius, as being nothing else but plain\nabuses and vanities. As for the civil law, of that I would have thee to\nknow the texts by heart, and then to confer them with philosophy. Now, in matter of the knowledge of the works of nature, I would have thee\nto study that exactly, and that so there be no sea, river, nor fountain, of\nwhich thou dost not know the fishes; all the fowls of the air; all the\nseveral kinds of shrubs and trees, whether in forests or orchards; all the\nsorts of herbs and flowers that grow upon the ground; all the various\nmetals that are hid within the bowels of the earth; together with all the\ndiversity of precious stones that are to be seen in the orient and south\nparts of the world. Let nothing of all these be hidden from thee.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-14, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-16 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Then\nfail not most carefully to peruse the books of the Greek, Arabian, and\nLatin physicians, not despising the Talmudists and Cabalists; and by\nfrequent anatomies get thee the perfect knowledge of the other world,\ncalled the microcosm, which is man. And at some hours of the day apply thy\nmind to the study of the Holy Scriptures; first in Greek, the New\nTestament, with the Epistles of the Apostles; and then the Old Testament in\nHebrew. In brief, let me see thee an abyss and bottomless pit of\nknowledge; for from henceforward, as thou growest great and becomest a man,\nthou must part from this tranquillity and rest of study, thou must learn\nchivalry, warfare, and the exercises of the field, the better thereby to\ndefend my house and our friends, and to succour and protect them at all\ntheir needs against the invasion and assaults of evildoers. Furthermore, I will that very shortly thou try how much thou hast profited,\nwhich thou canst not better do than by maintaining publicly theses and\nconclusions in all arts against all persons whatsoever, and by haunting the\ncompany of learned men, both at Paris and otherwhere. But because, as the\nwise man Solomon saith, Wisdom entereth not into a malicious mind, and that\nknowledge without conscience is but the ruin of the soul, it behoveth thee\nto serve, to love, to fear God, and on him to cast all thy thoughts and all\nthy hope, and by faith formed in charity to cleave unto him, so that thou\nmayst never be separated from him by thy sins. Suspect the abuses of the\nworld. Set not thy heart upon vanity, for this life is transitory, but the\nWord of the Lord endureth for ever. Be serviceable to all thy neighbours,\nand love them as thyself. Reverence thy preceptors:  shun the conversation\nof those whom thou desirest not to resemble, and receive not in vain the\ngraces which God hath bestowed upon thee. And, when thou shalt see that\nthou hast attained to all the knowledge that is to be acquired in that\npart, return unto me, that I may see thee and give thee my blessing before\nI die. My son, the peace and grace of our Lord be with thee. Amen. Thy father Gargantua. From Utopia the 17th day of the month of March. These letters being received and read, Pantagruel plucked up his heart,\ntook a fresh courage to him, and was inflamed with a desire to profit in\nhis studies more than ever, so that if you had seen him, how he took pains,\nand how he advanced in learning, you would have said that the vivacity of\nhis spirit amidst the books was like a great fire amongst dry wood, so\nactive it was, vigorous and indefatigable. How Pantagruel found Panurge, whom he loved all his lifetime. One day, as Pantagruel was taking a walk without the city, towards St.\nAnthony's abbey, discoursing and philosophating with his own servants and\nsome other scholars, (he) met with a young man of very comely stature and\nsurpassing handsome in all the lineaments of his body, but in several parts\nthereof most pitifully wounded; in such bad equipage in matter of his\napparel, which was but tatters and rags, and every way so far out of order\nthat he seemed to have been a-fighting with mastiff-dogs, from whose fury\nhe had made an escape; or to say better, he looked, in the condition\nwherein he then was, like an apple-gatherer of the country of Perche. As far off as Pantagruel saw him, he said to those that stood by, Do you\nsee that man there, who is a-coming hither upon the road from Charenton\nbridge? By my faith, he is only poor in fortune; for I may assure you that\nby his physiognomy it appeareth that nature hath extracted him from some\nrich and noble race, and that too much curiosity hath thrown him upon\nadventures which possibly have reduced him to this indigence, want, and\npenury. Now as he was just amongst them, Pantagruel said unto him, Let me\nentreat you, friend, that you may be pleased to stop here a little and\nanswer me to that which I shall ask you, and I am confident you will not\nthink your time ill bestowed; for I have an extreme desire, according to my\nability, to give you some supply in this distress wherein I see you are;\nbecause I do very much commiserate your case, which truly moves me to great\npity. Therefore, my friend, tell me who you are; whence you come; whither\nyou go; what you desire; and what your name is. The companion answered him\nin the German (The first edition reads \"Dutch.\") tongue, thus:\n\n'Junker, Gott geb euch gluck und heil. Furwahr, lieber Junker, ich lasz\neuch wissen, das da ihr mich von fragt, ist ein arm und erbarmlich Ding,\nund wer viel darvon zu sagen, welches euch verdrussig zu horen, und mir zu\nerzelen wer, wiewol die Poeten und Oratorn vorzeiten haben gesagt in ihren\nSpruchen und Sentenzen, dasz die gedechtniss des Elends und Armuth\nvorlangst erlitten ist eine grosse Lust.' My friend, said Pantagruel, I\nhave no skill in that gibberish of yours; therefore, if you would have us\nto understand you, speak to us in some other language. Then did the droll\nanswer him thus:\n\n'Albarildim gotfano dechmin brin alabo dordio falbroth ringuam albaras. Nin portzadikin almucatin milko prin alelmin en thoth dalheben ensouim;\nkuthim al dum alkatim nim broth dechoth porth min michais im endoth, pruch\ndalmaisoulum hol moth danfrihim lupaldas in voldemoth. Nin hur diavosth\nmnarbotim dalgousch palfrapin duch im scoth pruch galeth dal chinon, min\nfoulchrich al conin brutathen doth dal prin.' Do you understand none of\nthis? said Pantagruel to the company. I believe, said Epistemon, that this\nis the language of the Antipodes, and such a hard one that the devil\nhimself knows not what to make of it. Then said Pantagruel, Gossip, I know\nnot if the walls do comprehend the meaning of your words, but none of us\nhere doth so much as understand one syllable of them. Then said my blade\nagain:\n\n'Signor mio, voi vedete per essempio, che la cornamusa non suona mai,\ns'ella non ha il ventre pieno. Cosi io parimente non vi saprei contare le\nmie fortune, se prima il tribulato ventre non ha la solita refettione. Al\nquale e adviso che le mani et li denti habbiano perso il loro ordine\nnaturale et del tutto annichilati.' To which Epistemon answered, As much\nof the one as of the other, and nothing of either. Then said Panurge:\n\n'Lord, if you be so virtuous of intelligence as you be naturally relieved\nto the body, you should have pity of me. For nature hath made us equal,\nbut fortune hath some exalted and others deprived; nevertheless is virtue\noften deprived and the virtuous men despised; for before the last end none\nis good.' (The following is the passage as it stands in the first edition. Urquhart seems to have rendered Rabelais' indifferent English into worse\nScotch, and this, with probably the use of contractions in his MS., or 'the\noddness' of handwriting which he owns to in his Logopandecteision (p.419,\nMait. Club. Edit. ), has led to a chaotic jumble, which it is nearly\nimpossible to reduce to order.--Instead of any attempt to do so, it is here\ngiven verbatim: 'Lard gestholb besua virtuisbe intelligence:  ass yi body\nscalbisbe natural reloth cholb suld osme pety have; for natur hass visse\nequaly maide bot fortune sum exaiti hesse andoyis deprevit:  non yeless\niviss mou virtiuss deprevit, and virtuiss men decreviss for anen ye\nladeniss non quid.' Here is a morsel for critical ingenuity to fix its\nteeth in.--M.) Yet less, said Pantagruel. Then said my jolly Panurge:\n\n'Jona andie guaussa goussy etan beharda er remedio beharde versela ysser\nlanda. Anbat es otoy y es nausu ey nessassust gourray proposian ordine\nden. Non yssena bayta facheria egabe gen herassy badia sadassu noura\nassia.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-16, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-19 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Aran hondavan gualde cydassu naydassuna. Estou oussyc eg vinan\nsoury hien er darstura eguy harm. Genicoa plasar vadu.' Are you there,\nsaid Eudemon, Genicoa? To this said Carpalim, St. Trinian's rammer\nunstitch your bum, for I had almost understood it. Then answered Panurge:\n\n'Prust frest frinst sorgdmand strochdi drhds pag brlelang Gravot Chavigny\nPomardiere rusth pkaldracg Deviniere pres Nays. Couille kalmuch monach\ndrupp del meupplist rincq drlnd dodelb up drent loch minc stz rinq jald de\nvins ders cordelis bur jocst stzampenards.' Do you speak Christian, said\nEpistemon, or the buffoon language, otherwise called Patelinois? Nay, it\nis the puzlatory tongue, said another, which some call Lanternois. Then\nsaid Panurge:\n\n'Heere, ik en spreeke anders geen taele dan kersten taele:  my dunkt\nnoghtans, al en seg ik u niet een wordt, mynen noot verklaert genoegh wat\nik begeere:  geeft my uyt bermhertigheit yets waar van ik gevoet magh zyn.' To which answered Pantagruel, As much of that. Then said Panurge:\n\n'Sennor, de tanto hablar yo soy cansado, porque yo suplico a vuestra\nreverentia que mire a los preceptos evangelicos, para que ellos movan\nvuestra reverentia a lo que es de conscientia; y si ellos non bastaren,\npara mouer vuestra reverentia a piedad, yo suplico que mire a la piedad\nnatural, la qual yo creo que le movera como es de razon: y con esso non\ndigo mas.' Truly, my friend, (said Pantagruel,) I doubt not but you can\nspeak divers languages; but tell us that which you would have us to do for\nyou in some tongue which you conceive we may understand. Then said the\ncompanion:\n\n'Min Herre, endog ieg med ingen tunge talede, ligesom baern, oc uskellige\ncreatuure:  Mine klaedebon oc mit legoms magerhed uduiser alligeuel klarlig\nhuad ting mig best behof gioris, som er sandelig mad oc dricke:  Huorfor\nforbarme dig ofuer mig, oc befal at giue mig noguet, af huilcket ieg kand\nslyre min giaeendis mage, ligeruiis som mand Cerbero en suppe forsetter:\nSaa skalt du lefue laenge oc lycksalig.' I think really, said Eusthenes,\nthat the Goths spoke thus of old, and that, if it pleased God, we would all\nof us speak so with our tails. Then again said Panurge:\n\n'Adon, scalom lecha:  im ischar harob hal hebdeca bimeherah thithen li\nkikar lehem:  chanchat ub laah al Adonai cho nen ral.' To which answered\nEpistemon, At this time have I understood him very well; for it is the\nHebrew tongue most rhetorically pronounced. Then again said the gallant:\n\n'Despota tinyn panagathe, diati sy mi ouk artodotis? horas gar limo\nanaliscomenon eme athlion, ke en to metaxy me ouk eleis oudamos, zetis de\npar emou ha ou chre. Ke homos philologi pantes homologousi tote logous te\nke remata peritta hyparchin, hopote pragma afto pasi delon esti. Entha gar\nanankei monon logi isin, hina pragmata (hon peri amphisbetoumen), me\nprosphoros epiphenete.' What? Said Carpalim, Pantagruel's footman, It is\nGreek, I have understood him. And how? hast thou dwelt any while in\nGreece? Then said the droll again:\n\n'Agonou dont oussys vous desdagnez algorou:  nou den farou zamist vous\nmariston ulbrou, fousques voubrol tant bredaguez moupreton dengoulhoust,\ndaguez daguez non cropys fost pardonnoflist nougrou. Agou paston tol\nnalprissys hourtou los echatonous, prou dhouquys brol pany gou den bascrou\nnoudous caguons goulfren goul oustaroppassou.' (In this and the preceding\nspeeches of Panurge, the Paris Variorum Edition of 1823 has been followed\nin correcting Urquhart's text, which is full of inaccuracies.--M.) Methinks I understand him, said Pantagruel; for either it is the language\nof my country of Utopia, or sounds very like it. And, as he was about to\nhave begun some purpose, the companion said:\n\n'Jam toties vos per sacra, perque deos deasque omnes obtestatus sum, ut si\nquae vos pietas permovet, egestatem meam solaremini, nec hilum proficio\nclamans et ejulans. Sinite, quaeso, sinite, viri impii, quo me fata vocant\nabire; nec ultra vanis vestris interpellationibus obtundatis, memores\nveteris illius adagii, quo venter famelicus auriculis carere dicitur.' Well, my friend, said Pantagruel, but cannot you speak French? That I can\ndo, sir, very well, said the companion, God be thanked. It is my natural\nlanguage and mother tongue, for I was born and bred in my younger years in\nthe garden of France, to wit, Touraine. Then, said Pantagruel, tell us\nwhat is your name, and from whence you are come; for, by my faith, I have\nalready stamped in my mind such a deep impression of love towards you,\nthat, if you will condescend unto my will, you shall not depart out of my\ncompany, and you and I shall make up another couple of friends such as\nAeneas and Achates were. Sir, said the companion, my true and proper\nChristian name is Panurge, and now I come out of Turkey, to which country I\nwas carried away prisoner at that time when they went to Metelin with a\nmischief. And willingly would I relate unto you my fortunes, which are\nmore wonderful than those of Ulysses were; but, seeing that it pleaseth you\nto retain me with you, I most heartily accept of the offer, protesting\nnever to leave you should you go to all the devils in hell. We shall have\ntherefore more leisure at another time, and a fitter opportunity wherein to\nreport them; for at this present I am in a very urgent necessity to feed;\nmy teeth are sharp, my belly empty, my throat dry, and my stomach fierce\nand burning, all is ready. If you will but set me to work, it will be as\ngood as a balsamum for sore eyes to see me gulch and raven it. For God's\nsake, give order for it. Then Pantagruel commanded that they should carry\nhim home and provide him good store of victuals; which being done, he ate\nvery well that evening, and, capon-like, went early to bed; then slept\nuntil dinner-time the next day, so that he made but three steps and one\nleap from the bed to the board. How Pantagruel judged so equitably of a controversy, which was wonderfully\nobscure and difficult, that, by reason of his just decree therein, he was\nreputed to have a most admirable judgment. Pantagruel, very well remembering his father's letter and admonitions,\nwould one day make trial of his knowledge. Thereupon, in all the\ncarrefours, that is, throughout all the four quarters, streets, and corners\nof the city, he set up conclusions to the number of nine thousand seven\nhundred sixty and four, in all manner of learning, touching in them the\nhardest doubts that are in any science. And first of all, in the Fodder\nStreet he held dispute against all the regents or fellows of colleges,\nartists or masters of arts, and orators, and did so gallantly that he\noverthrew them and set them all upon their tails. He went afterwards to\nthe Sorbonne, where he maintained argument against all the theologians or\ndivines, for the space of six weeks, from four o'clock in the morning until\nsix in the evening, except an interval of two hours to refresh themselves\nand take their repast.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-19, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-20 The user is reading a book]\n<User> And at this were present the greatest part of the\nlords of the court, the masters of requests, presidents, counsellors, those\nof the accompts, secretaries, advocates, and others; as also the sheriffs\nof the said town, with the physicians and professors of the canon law. Amongst which, it is to be remarked, that the greatest part were stubborn\njades, and in their opinions obstinate; but he took such course with them\nthat, for all their ergoes and fallacies, he put their backs to the wall,\ngravelled them in the deepest questions, and made it visibly appear to the\nworld that, compared to him, they were but monkeys and a knot of muffled\ncalves. Whereupon everybody began to keep a bustling noise and talk of his\nso marvellous knowledge, through all degrees of persons of both sexes, even\nto the very laundresses, brokers, roast-meat sellers, penknife makers, and\nothers, who, when he passed along in the street, would say, This is he! in\nwhich he took delight, as Demosthenes, the prince of Greek orators, did,\nwhen an old crouching wife, pointing at him with her fingers, said, That is\nthe man. Now at this same very time there was a process or suit in law depending in\ncourt between two great lords, of which one was called my Lord Kissbreech,\nplaintiff of one side, and the other my Lord Suckfist, defendant of the\nother; whose controversy was so high and difficult in law that the court of\nparliament could make nothing of it. And therefore, by the commandment of\nthe king, there were assembled four of the greatest and most learned of all\nthe parliaments of France, together with the great council, and all the\nprincipal regents of the universities, not only of France, but of England\nalso and Italy, such as Jason, Philippus Decius, Petrus de Petronibus, and\na rabble of other old Rabbinists. Who being thus met together, after they\nhad thereupon consulted for the space of six-and-forty weeks, finding that\nthey could not fasten their teeth in it, nor with such clearness understand\nthe case as that they might in any manner of way be able to right it, or\ntake up the difference betwixt the two aforesaid parties, it did so\ngrievously vex them that they most villainously conshit themselves for\nshame. In this great extremity one amongst them, named Du Douhet, the\nlearnedest of all, and more expert and prudent than any of the rest, whilst\none day they were thus at their wits' end, all-to-be-dunced and\nphilogrobolized in their brains, said unto them, We have been here, my\nmasters, a good long space, without doing anything else than trifle away\nboth our time and money, and can nevertheless find neither brim nor bottom\nin this matter, for the more we study about it the less we understand\ntherein, which is a great shame and disgrace to us, and a heavy burden to\nour consciences; yea, such that in my opinion we shall not rid ourselves of\nit without dishonour, unless we take some other course; for we do nothing\nbut dote in our consultations. See, therefore, what I have thought upon. You have heard much talking of\nthat worthy personage named Master Pantagruel, who hath been found to be\nlearned above the capacity of this present age, by the proofs he gave in\nthose great disputations which he held publicly against all men. My\nopinion is, that we send for him to confer with him about this business;\nfor never any man will encompass the bringing of it to an end if he do it\nnot. Hereunto all the counsellors and doctors willingly agreed, and according to\nthat their result having instantly sent for him, they entreated him to be\npleased to canvass the process and sift it thoroughly, that, after a deep\nsearch and narrow examination of all the points thereof, he might forthwith\nmake the report unto them such as he shall think good in true and legal\nknowledge. To this effect they delivered into his hands the bags wherein\nwere the writs and pancarts concerning that suit, which for bulk and weight\nwere almost enough to lade four great couillard or stoned asses. But\nPantagruel said unto them, Are the two lords between whom this debate and\nprocess is yet living? It was answered him, Yes. To what a devil, then,\nsaid he, serve so many paltry heaps and bundles of papers and copies which\nyou give me? Is it not better to hear their controversy from their own\nmouths whilst they are face to face before us, than to read these vile\nfopperies, which are nothing but trumperies, deceits, diabolical cozenages\nof Cepola, pernicious slights and subversions of equity? For I am sure\nthat you, and all those through whose hands this process has passed, have\nby your devices added what you could to it pro et contra in such sort that,\nalthough their difference perhaps was clear and easy enough to determine at\nfirst, you have obscured it and made it more intricate by the frivolous,\nsottish, unreasonable, and foolish reasons and opinions of Accursius,\nBaldus, Bartolus, de Castro, de Imola, Hippolytus, Panormo, Bertachin,\nAlexander, Curtius, and those other old mastiffs, who never understood the\nleast law of the Pandects, they being but mere blockheads and great tithe\ncalves, ignorant of all that which was needful for the understanding of the\nlaws; for, as it is most certain, they had not the knowledge either of the\nGreek or Latin tongue, but only of the Gothic and barbarian. The laws,\nnevertheless, were first taken from the Greeks, according to the testimony\nof Ulpian, L. poster. de origine juris, which we likewise may perceive by\nthat all the laws are full of Greek words and sentences. And then we find\nthat they are reduced into a Latin style the most elegant and ornate that\nwhole language is able to afford, without excepting that of any that ever\nwrote therein, nay, not of Sallust, Varro, Cicero, Seneca, Titus Livius,\nnor Quintilian. How then could these old dotards be able to understand\naright the text of the laws who never in their time had looked upon a good\nLatin book, as doth evidently enough appear by the rudeness of their style,\nwhich is fitter for a chimney-sweeper, or for a cook or a scullion, than\nfor a jurisconsult and doctor in the laws? Furthermore, seeing the laws are excerpted out of the middle of moral and\nnatural philosophy, how should these fools have understood it, that have,\nby G--, studied less in philosophy than my mule? In respect of human\nlearning and the knowledge of antiquities and history they were truly laden\nwith those faculties as a toad is with feathers. And yet of all this the\nlaws are so full that without it they cannot be understood, as I intend\nmore fully to show unto you in a peculiar treatise which on that purpose I\nam about to publish. Therefore, if you will that I take any meddling in\nthis process, first cause all these papers to be burnt; secondly, make the\ntwo gentlemen come personally before me, and afterwards, when I shall have\nheard them, I will tell you my opinion freely without any feignedness or\ndissimulation whatsoever. Some amongst them did contradict this motion, as you know that in all\ncompanies there are more fools than wise men, and that the greater part\nalways surmounts the better, as saith Titus Livius in speaking of the\nCarthaginians. But the foresaid Du Douhet held the contrary opinion,\nmaintaining that Pantagruel had said well, and what was right, in affirming\nthat these records, bills of inquest, replies, rejoinders, exceptions,\ndepositions, and other such diableries of truth-entangling writs, were but\nengines wherewith to overthrow justice and unnecessarily to prolong such\nsuits as did depend before them; and that, therefore, the devil would carry\nthem all away to hell if they did not take another course and proceeded not\nin times coming according to the prescripts of evangelical and\nphilosophical equity. In fine, all the papers were burnt, and the two\ngentlemen summoned and personally convented. At whose appearance before\nthe court Pantagruel said unto them, Are you they that have this great\ndifference betwixt you? Yes, my lord, said they. Which of you, said\nPantagruel, is the plaintiff? It is I, said my Lord Kissbreech. Go to,\nthen, my friend, said he, and relate your matter unto me from point to\npoint, according to the real truth, or else, by cock's body, if I find you\nto lie so much as in one word, I will make you shorter by the head, and\ntake it from off your shoulders to show others by your example that in\njustice and judgment men ought to speak nothing but the truth.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-20, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-23 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Therefore\ntake heed you do not add nor impair anything in the narration of your case. Begin. How the Lords of Kissbreech and Suckfist did plead before Pantagruel\nwithout an attorney. Then began Kissbreech in manner as followeth. My lord, it is true that a\ngood woman of my house carried eggs to the market to sell. Be covered,\nKissbreech, said Pantagruel. Thanks to you, my lord, said the Lord\nKissbreech; but to the purpose. There passed betwixt the two tropics the\nsum of threepence towards the zenith and a halfpenny, forasmuch as the\nRiphaean mountains had been that year oppressed with a great sterility of\ncounterfeit gudgeons and shows without substance, by means of the babbling\ntattle and fond fibs seditiously raised between the gibblegabblers and\nAccursian gibberish-mongers for the rebellion of the Switzers, who had\nassembled themselves to the full number of the bumbees and myrmidons to go\na-handsel-getting on the first day of the new year, at that very time when\nthey give brewis to the oxen and deliver the key of the coals to the\ncountry-girls for serving in of the oats to the dogs. All the night long\nthey did nothing else, keeping their hands still upon the pot, but\ndespatch, both on foot and horseback, leaden-sealed writs or letters, to\nwit, papal commissions commonly called bulls, to stop the boats; for the\ntailors and seamsters would have made of the stolen shreds and clippings a\ngoodly sagbut to cover the face of the ocean, which then was great with\nchild of a potful of cabbage, according to the opinion of the\nhay-bundle-makers. But the physicians said that by the urine they\ncould discern no manifest sign of the bustard's pace, nor how to eat\ndouble-tongued mattocks with mustard, unless the lords and gentlemen of the\ncourt should be pleased to give by B.mol express command to the pox not to\nrun about any longer in gleaning up of coppersmiths and tinkers; for the\njobbernolls had already a pretty good beginning in their dance of the\nBritish jig called the estrindore, to a perfect diapason, with one foot in\nthe fire, and their head in the middle, as goodman Ragot was wont to say. Ha, my masters, God moderates all things, and disposeth of them at his\npleasure, so that against unlucky fortune a carter broke his frisking whip,\nwhich was all the wind-instrument he had. This was done at his return from\nthe little paltry town, even then when Master Antitus of Cressplots was\nlicentiated, and had passed his degrees in all dullery and blockishness,\naccording to this sentence of the canonists, Beati Dunces, quoniam ipsi\nstumblaverunt. But that which makes Lent to be so high, by St. Fiacre of\nBry, is for nothing else but that the Pentecost never comes but to my cost;\nyet, on afore there, ho! a little rain stills a great wind, and we must\nthink so, seeing that the sergeant hath propounded the matter so far above\nmy reach, that the clerks and secondaries could not with the benefit\nthereof lick their fingers, feathered with ganders, so orbicularly as they\nwere wont in other things to do. And we do manifestly see that everyone\nacknowledgeth himself to be in the error wherewith another hath been\ncharged, reserving only those cases whereby we are obliged to take an\nocular inspection in a perspective glass of these things towards the place\nin the chimney where hangeth the sign of the wine of forty girths, which\nhave been always accounted very necessary for the number of twenty pannels\nand pack-saddles of the bankrupt protectionaries of five years' respite. Howsoever, at least, he that would not let fly the fowl before the\ncheesecakes ought in law to have discovered his reason why not, for the\nmemory is often lost with a wayward shoeing. Well, God keep Theobald\nMitain from all danger! Then said Pantagruel, Hold there! Ho, my friend,\nsoft and fair, speak at leisure and soberly without putting yourself in\ncholer. I understand the case,--go on. Now then, my lord, said\nKissbreech, the foresaid good woman saying her gaudez and audi nos, could\nnot cover herself with a treacherous backblow, ascending by the wounds and\npassions of the privileges of the universities, unless by the virtue of a\nwarming-pan she had angelically fomented every part of her body in covering\nthem with a hedge of garden-beds; then giving in a swift unavoidable thirst\n(thrust) very near to the place where they sell the old rags whereof the\npainters of Flanders make great use when they are about neatly to clap on\nshoes on grasshoppers, locusts, cigals, and such like fly-fowls, so strange\nto us that I am wonderfully astonished why the world doth not lay, seeing\nit is so good to hatch. Here the Lord of Suckfist would have interrupted him and spoken somewhat,\nwhereupon Pantagruel said unto him, St! by St. Anthony's belly, doth it\nbecome thee to speak without command? I sweat here with the extremity of\nlabour and exceeding toil I take to understand the proceeding of your\nmutual difference, and yet thou comest to trouble and disquiet me. Peace,\nin the devil's name, peace. Thou shalt be permitted to speak thy bellyful\nwhen this man hath done, and no sooner. Go on, said he to Kissbreech;\nspeak calmly, and do not overheat yourself with too much haste. I perceiving, then, said Kissbreech, that the Pragmatical Sanction did make\nno mention of it, and that the holy Pope to everyone gave liberty to fart\nat his own ease, if that the blankets had no streaks wherein the liars were\nto be crossed with a ruffian-like crew, and, the rainbow being newly\nsharpened at Milan to bring forth larks, gave his full consent that the\ngood woman should tread down the heel of the hip-gut pangs, by virtue of a\nsolemn protestation put in by the little testiculated or codsted fishes,\nwhich, to tell the truth, were at that time very necessary for\nunderstanding the syntax and construction of old boots. Therefore John\nCalf, her cousin gervais once removed with a log from the woodstack, very\nseriously advised her not to put herself into the hazard of quagswagging in\nthe lee, to be scoured with a buck of linen clothes till first she had\nkindled the paper. This counsel she laid hold on, because he desired her\nto take nothing and throw out, for Non de ponte vadit, qui cum sapientia\ncadit. Matters thus standing, seeing the masters of the chamber of\naccompts or members of that committee did not fully agree amongst\nthemselves in casting up the number of the Almany whistles, whereof were\nframed those spectacles for princes which have been lately printed at\nAntwerp, I must needs think that it makes a bad return of the writ, and\nthat the adverse party is not to be believed, in sacer verbo dotis. For\nthat, having a great desire to obey the pleasure of the king, I armed\nmyself from toe to top with belly furniture, of the soles of good\nvenison-pasties, to go see how my grape-gatherers and vintagers had pinked\nand cut full of small holes their high-coped caps, to lecher it the better,\nand play at in and in. And indeed the time was very dangerous in coming\nfrom the fair, in so far that many trained bowmen were cast at the muster\nand quite rejected, although the chimney-tops were high enough, according to\nthe proportion of the windgalls in the legs of horses, or of the malanders,\nwhich in the esteem of expert farriers is no better disease, or else the\nstory of Ronypatifam or Lamibaudichon, interpreted by some to be the tale of\na tub or of a roasted horse, savours of apocrypha, and is not an authentic\nhistory. And by this means there was that year great abundance, throughout\nall the country of Artois, of tawny buzzing beetles, to the no small profit\nof the gentlemen-great-stick-faggot-carriers, when they did eat without\ndisdaining the cocklicranes, till their belly was like to crack with it\nagain. As for my own part, such is my Christian charity towards my\nneighbours, that I could wish from my heart everyone had as good a voice; it\nwould make us play the better at the tennis and the balloon.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-23, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-25 The user is reading a book]\n<User> And truly, my\nlord, to express the real truth without dissimulation, I cannot but say that\nthose petty subtle devices which are found out in the etymologizing of\npattens would descend more easily into the river of Seine, to serve for ever\nat the millers' bridge upon the said water, as it was heretofore decreed by\nthe king of the Canarians, according to the sentence or judgment given\nthereupon, which is to be seen in the registry and records within the\nclerk's office of this house. And, therefore, my lord, I do most humbly require, that by your lordship\nthere may be said and declared upon the case what is reasonable, with\ncosts, damages, and interests. Then said Pantagruel, My friend, is this\nall you have to say? Kissbreech answered, Yes, my lord, for I have told\nall the tu autem, and have not varied at all upon mine honour in so much as\none single word. You then, said Pantagruel, my Lord of Suckfist, say what\nyou will, and be brief, without omitting, nevertheless, anything that may\nserve to the purpose. How the Lord of Suckfist pleaded before Pantagruel. Then began the Lord Suckfist in manner as followeth. My lord, and you my\nmasters, if the iniquity of men were as easily seen in categorical judgment\nas we can discern flies in a milkpot, the world's four oxen had not been so\neaten up with rats, nor had so many ears upon the earth been nibbled away\nso scurvily. For although all that my adversary hath spoken be of a very\nsoft and downy truth, in so much as concerns the letter and history of the\nfactum, yet nevertheless the crafty slights, cunning subtleties, sly\ncozenages, and little troubling entanglements are hid under the rosepot,\nthe common cloak and cover of all fraudulent deceits. Should I endure that, when I am eating my pottage equal with the best, and\nthat without either thinking or speaking any manner of ill, they rudely\ncome to vex, trouble, and perplex my brains with that antique proverb which\nsaith,\n\n  Who in his pottage-eating drinks will not,\n  When he is dead and buried, see one jot. And, good lady, how many great captains have we seen in the day of battle,\nwhen in open field the sacrament was distributed in luncheons of the\nsanctified bread of the confraternity, the more honestly to nod their\nheads, play on the lute, and crack with their tails, to make pretty little\nplatform leaps in keeping level by the ground? But now the world is\nunshackled from the corners of the packs of Leicester. One flies out\nlewdly and becomes debauched; another, likewise, five, four, and two, and\nthat at such random that, if the court take not some course therein, it\nwill make as bad a season in matter of gleaning this year as ever it made,\nor it will make goblets. If any poor creature go to the stoves to\nilluminate his muzzle with a cowsherd or to buy winter-boots, and that the\nsergeants passing by, or those of the watch, happen to receive the\ndecoction of a clyster or the fecal matter of a close-stool upon their\nrustling-wrangling-clutter-keeping masterships, should any because of that\nmake bold to clip the shillings and testers and fry the wooden dishes? Sometimes, when we think one thing, God does another; and when the sun is\nwholly set all beasts are in the shade. Let me never be believed again, if\nI do not gallantly prove it by several people who have seen the light of\nthe day. In the year thirty and six, buying a Dutch curtail, which was a middle-sized\nhorse, both high and short, of a wool good enough and dyed in grain, as the\ngoldsmiths assured me, although the notary put an &c. in it, I told really\nthat I was not a clerk of so much learning as to snatch at the moon with my\nteeth; but, as for the butter-firkin where Vulcanian deeds and evidences\nwere sealed, the rumour was, and the report thereof went current, that\nsalt-beef will make one find the way to the wine without a candle, though it\nwere hid in the bottom of a collier's sack, and that with his drawers on he\nwere mounted on a barbed horse furnished with a fronstal, and such arms,\nthighs, and leg-pieces as are requisite for the well frying and broiling of\na swaggering sauciness. Here is a sheep's head, and it is well they make a\nproverb of this, that it is good to see black cows in burnt wood when one\nattains to the enjoyment of his love. I had a consultation upon this point\nwith my masters the clerks, who for resolution concluded in frisesomorum\nthat there is nothing like to mowing in the summer, and sweeping clean away\nin water, well garnished with paper, ink, pens, and penknives, of Lyons upon\nthe river of Rhone, dolopym dolopof, tarabin tarabas, tut, prut, pish; for,\nincontinently after that armour begins to smell of garlic, the rust will go\nnear to eat the liver, not of him that wears it, and then do they nothing\nelse but withstand others' courses, and wryneckedly set up their bristles\n'gainst one another, in lightly passing over their afternoon's sleep, and\nthis is that which maketh salt so dear. My lords, believe not when the said\ngood woman had with birdlime caught the shoveler fowl, the better before a\nsergeant's witness to deliver the younger son's portion to him, that the\nsheep's pluck or hog's haslet did dodge and shrink back in the usurers'\npurses, or that there could be anything better to preserve one from the\ncannibals than to take a rope of onions, knit with three hundred turnips,\nand a little of a calf's chaldern of the best allay that the alchemists have\nprovided, (and) that they daub and do over with clay, as also calcinate and\nburn to dust these pantoufles, muff in muff out, mouflin mouflard, with the\nfine sauce of the juice of the rabble rout, whilst they hide themselves in\nsome petty mouldwarphole, saving always the little slices of bacon. Now, if\nthe dice will not favour you with any other throw but ambes-ace and the\nchance of three at the great end, mark well the ace, then take me your dame,\nsettle her in a corner of the bed, and whisk me her up drilletrille, there,\nthere, toureloura la la; which when you have done, take a hearty draught of\nthe best, despicando grenovillibus, in despite of the frogs, whose fair\ncoarse bebuskined stockings shall be set apart for the little green geese or\nmewed goslings, which, fattened in a coop, take delight to sport themselves\nat the wagtail game, waiting for the beating of the metal and heating of the\nwax by the slavering drivellers of consolation. Very true it is, that the four oxen which are in debate, and whereof\nmention was made, were somewhat short in memory. Nevertheless, to\nunderstand the game aright, they feared neither the cormorant nor mallard\nof Savoy, which put the good people of my country in great hope that their\nchildren some time should become very skilful in algorism. Therefore is\nit, that by a law rubric and special sentence thereof, that we cannot fail\nto take the wolf if we make our hedges higher than the windmill, whereof\nsomewhat was spoken by the plaintiff. But the great devil did envy it, and\nby that means put the High Dutches far behind, who played the devils in\nswilling down and tippling at the good liquor, trink, mein herr, trink,\ntrink, by two of my table-men in the corner-point I have gained the lurch. For it is not probable, nor is there any appearance of truth in this\nsaying, that at Paris upon a little bridge the hen is proportionable, and\nwere they as copped and high-crested as marsh whoops, if veritably they did\nnot sacrifice the printer's pumpet-balls at Moreb, with a new edge set upon\nthem by text letters or those of a swift-writing hand, it is all one to me,\nso that the headband of the book breed not moths or worms in it.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-25, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-26 The user is reading a book]\n<User> And put\nthe case that, at the coupling together of the buckhounds, the little\npuppies shall have waxed proud before the notary could have given an\naccount of the serving of his writ by the cabalistic art, it will\nnecessarily follow, under correction of the better judgment of the court,\nthat six acres of meadow ground of the greatest breadth will make three\nbutts of fine ink, without paying ready money; considering that, at the\nfuneral of King Charles, we might have had the fathom in open market for\none and two, that is, deuce ace. This I may affirm with a safe conscience,\nupon my oath of wool. And I see ordinarily in all good bagpipes, that, when they go to the\ncounterfeiting of the chirping of small birds, by swinging a broom three\ntimes about a chimney, and putting his name upon record, they do nothing\nbut bend a crossbow backwards, and wind a horn, if perhaps it be too hot,\nand that, by making it fast to a rope he was to draw, immediately after the\nsight of the letters, the cows were restored to him. Such another sentence\nafter the homeliest manner was pronounced in the seventeenth year, because\nof the bad government of Louzefougarouse, whereunto it may please the court\nto have regard. I desire to be rightly understood; for truly, I say not\nbut that in all equity, and with an upright conscience, those may very well\nbe dispossessed who drink holy water as one would do a weaver's shuttle,\nwhereof suppositories are made to those that will not resign, but on the\nterms of ell and tell and giving of one thing for another. Tunc, my lords,\nquid juris pro minoribus? For the common custom of the Salic law is such,\nthat the first incendiary or firebrand of sedition that flays the cow and\nwipes his nose in a full concert of music without blowing in the cobbler's\nstitches, should in the time of the nightmare sublimate the penury of his\nmember by moss gathered when people are like to founder themselves at the\nmess at midnight, to give the estrapade to these white wines of Anjou that\ndo the fear of the leg in lifting it by horsemen called the gambetta, and\nthat neck to neck after the fashion of Brittany, concluding as before with\ncosts, damages, and interests. After that the Lord of Suckfist had ended, Pantagruel said to the Lord of\nKissbreech, My friend, have you a mind to make any reply to what is said? No, my lord, answered Kissbreech; for I have spoke all I intended, and\nnothing but the truth. Therefore, put an end for God's sake to our\ndifference, for we are here at great charge. How Pantagruel gave judgment upon the difference of the two lords. Then Pantagruel, rising up, assembled all the presidents, counsellors, and\ndoctors that were there, and said unto them, Come now, my masters, you have\nheard vivae vocis oraculo, the controversy that is in question; what do you\nthink of it? They answered him, We have indeed heard it, but have not\nunderstood the devil so much as one circumstance of the case; and therefore\nwe beseech you, una voce, and in courtesy request you that you would give\nsentence as you think good, and, ex nunc prout ex tunc, we are satisfied\nwith it, and do ratify it with our full consents. Well, my masters, said\nPantagruel, seeing you are so pleased, I will do it; but I do not truly\nfind the case so difficult as you make it. Your paragraph Caton, the law\nFrater, the law Gallus, the law Quinque pedum, the law Vinum, the law Si\nDominus, the law Mater, the law Mulier bona, to the law Si quis, the law\nPomponius, the law Fundi, the law Emptor, the law Praetor, the law\nVenditor, and a great many others, are far more intricate in my opinion. After he had spoke this, he walked a turn or two about the hall, plodding\nvery profoundly, as one may think; for he did groan like an ass whilst they\ngirth him too hard, with the very intensiveness of considering how he was\nbound in conscience to do right to both parties, without varying or\naccepting of persons. Then he returned, sat down, and began to pronounce\nsentence as followeth. Having seen, heard, calculated, and well considered of the difference\nbetween the Lords of Kissbreech and Suckfist, the court saith unto them,\nthat in regard of the sudden quaking, shivering, and hoariness of the\nflickermouse, bravely declining from the estival solstice, to attempt by\nprivate means the surprisal of toyish trifles in those who are a little\nunwell for having taken a draught too much, through the lewd demeanour and\nvexation of the beetles that inhabit the diarodal (diarhomal) climate of an\nhypocritical ape on horseback, bending a crossbow backwards, the plaintiff\ntruly had just cause to calfet, or with oakum to stop the chinks of the\ngalleon which the good woman blew up with wind, having one foot shod and\nthe other bare, reimbursing and restoring to him, low and stiff in his\nconscience, as many bladder-nuts and wild pistaches as there is of hair in\neighteen cows, with as much for the embroiderer, and so much for that. He\nis likewise declared innocent of the case privileged from the knapdardies,\ninto the danger whereof it was thought he had incurred; because he could\nnot jocundly and with fulness of freedom untruss and dung, by the decision\nof a pair of gloves perfumed with the scent of bum-gunshot at the\nwalnut-tree taper, as is usual in his country of Mirebalais. Slacking,\ntherefore, the topsail, and letting go the bowline with the brazen bullets,\nwherewith the mariners did by way of protestation bake in pastemeat great\nstore of pulse interquilted with the dormouse, whose hawk's-bells were made\nwith a puntinaria, after the manner of Hungary or Flanders lace, and which\nhis brother-in-law carried in a pannier, lying near to three chevrons or\nbordered gules, whilst he was clean out of heart, drooping and crestfallen\nby the too narrow sifting, canvassing, and curious examining of the matter\nin the angularly doghole of nasty scoundrels, from whence we shoot at the\nvermiformal popinjay with the flap made of a foxtail. But in that he chargeth the defendant that he was a botcher, cheese-eater,\nand trimmer of man's flesh embalmed, which in the arsiversy swagfall tumble\nwas not found true, as by the defendant was very well discussed. The court, therefore, doth condemn and amerce him in three porringers of\ncurds, well cemented and closed together, shining like pearls, and\ncodpieced after the fashion of the country, to be paid unto the said\ndefendant about the middle of August in May. But, on the other part, the\ndefendant shall be bound to furnish him with hay and stubble for stopping\nthe caltrops of his throat, troubled and impulregafized, with gabardines\ngarbled shufflingly, and friends as before, without costs and for cause. Which sentence being pronounced, the two parties departed both contented\nwith the decree, which was a thing almost incredible. For it never came to\npass since the great rain, nor shall the like occur in thirteen jubilees\nhereafter, that two parties contradictorily contending in judgment be\nequally satisfied and well pleased with the definitive sentence. As for\nthe counsellors and other doctors in the law that were there present, they\nwere all so ravished with admiration at the more than human wisdom of\nPantagruel, which they did most clearly perceive to be in him by his so\naccurate decision of this so difficult and thorny cause, that their spirits\nwith the extremity of the rapture being elevated above the pitch of\nactuating the organs of the body, they fell into a trance and sudden\necstasy, wherein they stayed for the space of three long hours, and had\nbeen so as yet in that condition had not some good people fetched store of\nvinegar and rose-water to bring them again unto their former sense and\nunderstanding, for the which God be praised everywhere. And so be it. How Panurge related the manner how he escaped out of the hands of the\nTurks.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-26, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-27 The user is reading a book]\n<User> The great wit and judgment of Pantagruel was immediately after this made\nknown unto all the world by setting forth his praises in print, and putting\nupon record this late wonderful proof he hath given thereof amongst the\nrolls of the crown and registers of the palace, in such sort that everybody\nbegan to say that Solomon, who by a probable guess only, without any\nfurther certainty, caused the child to be delivered to its own mother,\nshowed never in his time such a masterpiece of wisdom as the good\nPantagruel hath done. Happy are we, therefore, that have him in our\ncountry. And indeed they would have made him thereupon master of the\nrequests and president in the court; but he refused all, very graciously\nthanking them for their offer. For, said he, there is too much slavery in\nthese offices, and very hardly can they be saved that do exercise them,\nconsidering the great corruption that is amongst men. Which makes me\nbelieve, if the empty seats of angels be not filled with other kind of\npeople than those, we shall not have the final judgment these seven\nthousand, sixty and seven jubilees yet to come, and so Cusanus will be\ndeceived in his conjecture. Remember that I have told you of it, and given\nyou fair advertisement in time and place convenient. But if you have any hogsheads of good wine, I willingly will accept of a\npresent of that. Which they very heartily did do, in sending him of the\nbest that was in the city, and he drank reasonably well, but poor Panurge\nbibbed and boused of it most villainously, for he was as dry as a\nred-herring, as lean as a rake, and, like a poor, lank, slender cat, walked\ngingerly as if he had trod upon eggs. So that by someone being admonished,\nin the midst of his draught of a large deep bowl full of excellent claret\nwith these words--Fair and softly, gossip, you suck up as if you were mad\n--I give thee to the devil, said he; thou hast not found here thy little\ntippling sippers of Paris, that drink no more than the little bird called a\nspink or chaffinch, and never take in their beakful of liquor till they be\nbobbed on the tails after the manner of the sparrows. O companion! if I\ncould mount up as well as I can get down, I had been long ere this above\nthe sphere of the moon with Empedocles. But I cannot tell what a devil\nthis means. This wine is so good and delicious, that the more I drink\nthereof the more I am athirst. I believe that the shadow of my master\nPantagruel engendereth the altered and thirsty men, as the moon doth the\ncatarrhs and defluxions. At which word the company began to laugh, which\nPantagruel perceiving, said, Panurge, what is that which moves you to laugh\nso? Sir, said he, I was telling them that these devilish Turks are very\nunhappy in that they never drink one drop of wine, and that though there\nwere no other harm in all Mahomet's Alcoran, yet for this one base point of\nabstinence from wine which therein is commanded, I would not submit myself\nunto their law. But now tell me, said Pantagruel, how you escaped out of\ntheir hands. By G--, sir, said Panurge, I will not lie to you in one word. The rascally Turks had broached me upon a spit all larded like a rabbit,\nfor I was so dry and meagre that otherwise of my flesh they would have made\nbut very bad meat, and in this manner began to roast me alive. As they\nwere thus roasting me, I recommended myself unto the divine grace, having\nin my mind the good St. Lawrence, and always hoped in God that he would\ndeliver me out of this torment. Which came to pass, and that very\nstrangely. For as I did commit myself with all my heart unto God, crying,\nLord God, help me! Lord God, save me! Lord God, take me out of this pain\nand hellish torture, wherein these traitorous dogs detain me for my\nsincerity in the maintenance of thy law! The roaster or turnspit fell\nasleep by the divine will, or else by the virtue of some good Mercury, who\ncunningly brought Argus into a sleep for all his hundred eyes. When I saw\nthat he did no longer turn me in roasting, I looked upon him, and perceived\nthat he was fast asleep. Then took I up in my teeth a firebrand by the end\nwhere it was not burnt, and cast it into the lap of my roaster, and another\ndid I throw as well as I could under a field-couch that was placed near to\nthe chimney, wherein was the straw-bed of my master turnspit. Presently\nthe fire took hold in the straw, and from the straw to the bed, and from\nthe bed to the loft, which was planked and ceiled with fir, after the\nfashion of the foot of a lamp. But the best was, that the fire which I had\ncast into the lap of my paltry roaster burnt all his groin, and was\nbeginning to cease (seize) upon his cullions, when he became sensible of\nthe danger, for his smelling was not so bad but that he felt it sooner than\nhe could have seen daylight. Then suddenly getting up, and in a great\namazement running to the window, he cried out to the streets as high as he\ncould, Dal baroth, dal baroth, dal baroth, which is as much to say as Fire,\nfire, fire. Incontinently turning about, he came straight towards me to\nthrow me quite into the fire, and to that effect had already cut the ropes\nwherewith my hands were tied, and was undoing the cords from off my feet,\nwhen the master of the house hearing him cry Fire, and smelling the smoke\nfrom the very street where he was walking with some other Bashaws and\nMustaphas, ran with all the speed he had to save what he could, and to\ncarry away his jewels. Yet such was his rage, before he could well resolve\nhow to go about it, that he caught the broach whereon I was spitted and\ntherewith killed my roaster stark dead, of which wound he died there for\nwant of government or otherwise; for he ran him in with the spit a little\nabove the navel, towards the right flank, till he pierced the third lappet\nof his liver, and the blow slanting upwards from the midriff or diaphragm,\nthrough which it had made penetration, the spit passed athwart the\npericardium or capsule of his heart, and came out above at his shoulders,\nbetwixt the spondyls or turning joints of the chine of the back and the\nleft homoplat, which we call the shoulder-blade. True it is, for I will not lie, that, in drawing the spit out of my body I\nfell to the ground near unto the andirons, and so by the fall took some\nhurt, which indeed had been greater, but that the lardons, or little slices\nof bacon wherewith I was stuck, kept off the blow. My Bashaw then seeing\nthe case to be desperate, his house burnt without remission, and all his\ngoods lost, gave himself over unto all the devils in hell, calling upon\nsome of them by their names, Grilgoth, Astaroth, Rappalus, and Gribouillis,\nnine several times. Which when I saw, I had above sixpence' worth of fear,\ndreading that the devils would come even then to carry away this fool, and,\nseeing me so near him, would perhaps snatch me up to. I am already,\nthought I, half roasted, and my lardons will be the cause of my mischief;\nfor these devils are very liquorous of lardons, according to the authority\nwhich you have of the philosopher Jamblicus, and Murmault, in the Apology\nof Bossutis, adulterated pro magistros nostros. But for my better security\nI made the sign of the cross, crying, Hageos, athanatos, ho theos, and none\ncame. At which my rogue Bashaw being very much aggrieved would, in\ntranspiercing his heart with my spit, have killed himself, and to that\npurpose had set it against his breast, but it could not enter, because it\nwas not sharp enough. Whereupon I perceiving that he was not like to work\nupon his body the effect which he intended, although he did not spare all\nthe force he had to thrust it forward, came up to him and said, Master\nBugrino, thou dost here but trifle away thy time, or rashly lose it, for\nthou wilt never kill thyself thus as thou doest.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-27, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-28 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Well, thou mayst hurt or\nbruise somewhat within thee, so as to make thee languish all thy lifetime\nmost pitifully amongst the hands of the chirurgeons; but if thou wilt be\ncounselled by me, I will kill thee clear outright, so that thou shalt not\nso much as feel it, and trust me, for I have killed a great many others,\nwho have found themselves very well after it. Ha, my friend, said he, I\nprithee do so, and for thy pains I will give thee my codpiece (budget);\ntake, here it is, there are six hundred seraphs in it, and some fine\ndiamonds and most excellent rubies. And where are they? said Epistemon. By St. John, said Panurge, they are a good way hence, if they always keep\ngoing. But where is the last year's snow? This was the greatest care that\nVillon the Parisian poet took. Make an end, said Pantagruel, that we may\nknow how thou didst dress thy Bashaw. By the faith of an honest man, said\nPanurge, I do not lie in one word. I swaddled him in a scurvy\nswathel-binding which I found lying there half burnt, and with my cords tied\nhim roister-like both hand and foot, in such sort that he was not able to\nwince; then passed my spit through his throat, and hanged him thereon,\nfastening the end thereof at two great hooks or crampirons, upon which they\ndid hang their halberds; and then, kindling a fair fire under him, did flame\nyou up my Milourt, as they use to do dry herrings in a chimney. With this,\ntaking his budget and a little javelin that was upon the foresaid hooks, I\nran away a fair gallop-rake, and God he knows how I did smell my shoulder of\nmutton. When I was come down into the street, I found everybody come to put out the\nfire with store of water, and seeing me so half-roasted, they did naturally\npity my case, and threw all their water upon me, which, by a most joyful\nrefreshing of me, did me very much good. Then did they present me with\nsome victuals, but I could not eat much, because they gave me nothing to\ndrink but water after their fashion. Other hurt they did me none, only one\nlittle villainous Turkey knobbreasted rogue came thiefteously to snatch\naway some of my lardons, but I gave him such a sturdy thump and sound rap\non the fingers with all the weight of my javelin, that he came no more the\nsecond time. Shortly after this there came towards me a pretty young\nCorinthian wench, who brought me a boxful of conserves, of round Mirabolan\nplums, called emblicks, and looked upon my poor robin with an eye of great\ncompassion, as it was flea-bitten and pinked with the sparkles of the fire\nfrom whence it came, for it reached no farther in length, believe me, than\nmy knees. But note that this roasting cured me entirely of a sciatica,\nwhereunto I had been subject above seven years before, upon that side which\nmy roaster by falling asleep suffered to be burnt. Now, whilst they were thus busy about me, the fire triumphed, never ask\nhow? For it took hold on above two thousand houses, which one of them\nespying cried out, saying, By Mahoom's belly, all the city is on fire, and\nwe do nevertheless stand gazing here, without offering to make any relief. Upon this everyone ran to save his own; for my part, I took my way towards\nthe gate. When I was got upon the knap of a little hillock not far off, I\nturned me about as did Lot's wife, and, looking back, saw all the city\nburning in a fair fire, whereat I was so glad that I had almost beshit\nmyself for joy. But God punished me well for it. How? said Pantagruel. Thus, said Panurge; for when with pleasure I beheld this jolly fire,\njesting with myself, and saying--Ha! poor flies, ha! poor mice, you will\nhave a bad winter of it this year; the fire is in your reeks, it is in your\nbed-straw--out come more than six, yea, more than thirteen hundred and\neleven dogs, great and small, altogether out of the town, flying away from\nthe fire. At the first approach they ran all upon me, being carried on by\nthe scent of my lecherous half-roasted flesh, and had even then devoured me\nin a trice, if my good angel had not well inspired me with the instruction\nof a remedy very sovereign against the toothache. And wherefore, said\nPantagruel, wert thou afraid of the toothache or pain of the teeth? Wert\nthou not cured of thy rheums? By Palm Sunday, said Panurge, is there any\ngreater pain of the teeth than when the dogs have you by the legs? But on\na sudden, as my good angel directed me, I thought upon my lardons, and\nthrew them into the midst of the field amongst them. Then did the dogs\nrun, and fight with one another at fair teeth which should have the\nlardons. By this means they left me, and I left them also bustling with\nand hairing one another. Thus did I escape frolic and lively, gramercy\nroastmeat and cookery. How Panurge showed a very new way to build the walls of Paris. Pantagruel one day, to refresh himself of his study, went a-walking towards\nSt. Marcel's suburbs, to see the extravagancy of the Gobeline building, and\nto taste of their spiced bread. Panurge was with him, having always a\nflagon under his gown and a good slice of a gammon of bacon; for without\nthis he never went, saying that it was as a yeoman of the guard to him, to\npreserve his body from harm. Other sword carried he none; and, when\nPantagruel would have given him one, he answered that he needed none, for\nthat it would but heat his milt. Yea but, said Epistemon, if thou shouldst\nbe set upon, how wouldst thou defend thyself? With great buskinades or\nbrodkin blows, answered he, provided thrusts were forbidden. At their\nreturn, Panurge considered the walls of the city of Paris, and in derision\nsaid to Pantagruel, See what fair walls here are! O how strong they are,\nand well fitted to keep geese in a mew or coop to fatten them! By my\nbeard, they are competently scurvy for such a city as this is; for a cow\nwith one fart would go near to overthrow above six fathoms of them. O my\nfriend, said Pantagruel, dost thou know what Agesilaus said when he was\nasked why the great city of Lacedaemon was not enclosed with walls? Lo\nhere, said he, the walls of the city! in showing them the inhabitants and\ncitizens thereof, so strong, so well armed, and so expert in military\ndiscipline; signifying thereby that there is no wall but of bones, and that\ntowns and cities cannot have a surer wall nor better fortification than the\nprowess and virtue of the citizens and inhabitants. So is this city so\nstrong, by the great number of warlike people that are in it, that they\ncare not for making any other walls. Besides, whosoever would go about to\nwall it, as Strasbourg, Orleans, or Ferrara, would find it almost\nimpossible, the cost and charges would be so excessive. Yea but, said\nPanurge, it is good, nevertheless, to have an outside of stone when we are\ninvaded by our enemies, were it but to ask, Who is below there? As for the\nenormous expense which you say would be needful for undertaking the great\nwork of walling this city about, if the gentlemen of the town will be\npleased to give me a good rough cup of wine, I will show them a pretty,\nstrange, and new way, how they may build them good cheap. How? said\nPantagruel. Do not speak of it then, answered Panurge, and I will tell it\nyou. I see that the sine quo nons, kallibistris, or contrapunctums of the\nwomen of this country are better cheap than stones. Of them should the\nwalls be built, ranging them in good symmetry by the rules of architecture,\nand placing the largest in the first ranks, then sloping downwards\nridge-wise, like the back of an ass. The middle-sized ones must be ranked\nnext, and last of all the least and smallest.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-28, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-29 The user is reading a book]\n<User> This done, there must be a\nfine little interlacing of them, like points of diamonds, as is to be seen\nin the great tower of Bourges, with a like number of the nudinnudos,\nnilnisistandos, and stiff bracmards, that dwell in amongst the claustral\ncodpieces. What devil were able to overthrow such walls? There is no metal\nlike it to resist blows, in so far that, if culverin-shot should come to\ngraze upon it, you would incontinently see distil from thence the blessed\nfruit of the great pox as small as rain. Beware, in the name of the devils,\nand hold off. Furthermore, no thunderbolt or lightning would fall upon it. For why? They are all either blest or consecrated. I see but one\ninconveniency in it. Ho, ho, ha, ha, ha! said Pantagruel, and what is that? It is, that the flies would be so liquorish of them that you would wonder,\nand would quickly gather there together, and there leave their ordure and\nexcretions, and so all the work would be spoiled. But see how that might be\nremedied:  they must be wiped and made rid of the flies with fair foxtails,\nor great good viedazes, which are ass-pizzles, of Provence. And to this\npurpose I will tell you, as we go to supper, a brave example set down by\nFrater Lubinus, Libro de compotationibus mendicantium. In the time that the beasts did speak, which is not yet three days since, a\npoor lion, walking through the forest of Bieure, and saying his own little\nprivate devotions, passed under a tree where there was a roguish collier\ngotten up to cut down wood, who, seeing the lion, cast his hatchet at him\nand wounded him enormously in one of his legs; whereupon the lion halting,\nhe so long toiled and turmoiled himself in roaming up and down the forest\nto find help, that at last he met with a carpenter, who willingly looked\nupon his wound, cleansed it as well as he could, and filled it with moss,\ntelling him that he must wipe his wound well that the flies might not do\ntheir excrements in it, whilst he should go search for some yarrow or\nmillefoil, commonly called the carpenter's herb. The lion, being thus\nhealed, walked along in the forest at what time a sempiternous crone and\nold hag was picking up and gathering some sticks in the said forest, who,\nseeing the lion coming towards her, for fear fell down backwards, in such\nsort that the wind blew up her gown, coats, and smock, even as far as above\nher shoulders; which the lion perceiving, for pity ran to see whether she\nhad taken any hurt by the fall, and thereupon considering her how do you\ncall it, said, O poor woman, who hath thus wounded thee? Which words when\nhe had spoken, he espied a fox, whom he called to come to him saying,\nGossip Reynard, hau, hither, hither, and for cause! When the fox was come,\nhe said unto him, My gossip and friend, they have hurt this good woman here\nbetween the legs most villainously, and there is a manifest solution of\ncontinuity. See how great a wound it is, even from the tail up to the\nnavel, in measure four, nay full five handfuls and a half. This is the\nblow of a hatchet, I doubt me; it is an old wound, and therefore, that the\nflies may not get into it, wipe it lustily well and hard, I prithee, both\nwithin and without; thou hast a good tail, and long. Wipe, my friend,\nwipe, I beseech thee, and in the meanwhile I will go get some moss to put\ninto it; for thus ought we to succour and help one another. Wipe it hard,\nthus, my friend; wipe it well, for this wound must be often wiped,\notherwise the party cannot be at ease. Go to, wipe well, my little gossip,\nwipe; God hath furnished thee with a tail; thou hast a long one, and of a\nbigness proportionable; wipe hard, and be not weary. A good wiper, who, in\nwiping continually, wipeth with his wipard, by wasps shall never be\nwounded. Wipe, my pretty minion; wipe, my little bully; I will not stay\nlong. Then went he to get store of moss; and when he was a little way off,\nhe cried out in speaking to the fox thus, Wipe well still, gossip, wipe,\nand let it never grieve thee to wipe well, my little gossip; I will put\nthee into service to be wiper to Don Pedro de Castile; wipe, only wipe, and\nno more. The poor fox wiped as hard as he could, here and there, within\nand without; but the false old trot did so fizzle and fist that she stunk\nlike a hundred devils, which put the poor fox to a great deal of ill ease,\nfor he knew not to what side to turn himself to escape the unsavoury\nperfume of this old woman's postern blasts. And whilst to that effect he\nwas shifting hither and thither, without knowing how to shun the annoyance\nof those unwholesome gusts, he saw that behind there was yet another hole,\nnot so great as that which he did wipe, out of which came this filthy and\ninfectious air. The lion at last returned, bringing with him of moss more\nthan eighteen packs would hold, and began to put into the wound with a\nstaff which he had provided for that purpose, and had already put in full\nsixteen packs and a half, at which he was amazed. What a devil! said he,\nthis wound is very deep; it would hold above two cartloads of moss. The\nfox, perceiving this, said unto the lion, O gossip lion, my friend, I pray\nthee do not put in all thy moss there; keep somewhat, for there is yet here\nanother little hole, that stinks like five hundred devils; I am almost\nchoked with the smell thereof, it is so pestiferous and empoisoning. Thus must these walls be kept from the flies, and wages allowed to some for\nwiping of them. Then said Pantagruel, How dost thou know that the privy\nparts of women are at such a cheap rate? For in this city there are many\nvirtuous, honest, and chaste women besides the maids. Et ubi prenus? said\nPanurge. I will give you my opinion of it, and that upon certain and\nassured knowledge. I do not brag that I have bumbasted four hundred and\nseventeen since I came into this city, though it be but nine days ago; but\nthis very morning I met with a good fellow, who, in a wallet such as\nAesop's was, carried two little girls of two or three years old at the\nmost, one before and the other behind. He demanded alms of me, but I made\nhim answer that I had more cods than pence. Afterwards I asked him, Good\nman, these two girls, are they maids? Brother, said he, I have carried\nthem thus these two years, and in regard of her that is before, whom I see\ncontinually, in my opinion she is a virgin, nevertheless I will not put my\nfinger in the fire for it; as for her that is behind, doubtless I can say\nnothing. Indeed, said Pantagruel, thou art a gentle companion; I will have thee to\nbe apparelled in my livery. And therefore caused him to be clothed most\ngallantly according to the fashion that then was, only that Panurge would\nhave the codpiece of his breeches three foot long, and in shape square, not\nround; which was done, and was well worth the seeing. Oftentimes was he\nwont to say, that the world had not yet known the emolument and utility\nthat is in wearing great codpieces; but time would one day teach it them,\nas all things have been invented in time. God keep from hurt, said he, the\ngood fellow whose long codpiece or braguet hath saved his life! God keep\nfrom hurt him whose long braguet hath been worth to him in one day one\nhundred threescore thousand and nine crowns! God keep from hurt him who by\nhis long braguet hath saved a whole city from dying by famine! And, by G-,\nI will make a book of the commodity of long braguets when I shall have more\nleisure. And indeed he composed a fair great book with figures, but it is\nnot printed as yet that I know of. Of the qualities and conditions of Panurge. Panurge was of a middle stature, not too high nor too low, and had somewhat\nan aquiline nose, made like the handle of a razor.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-29, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-30 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He was at that time\nfive and thirty years old or thereabouts, fine to gild like a leaden\ndagger--for he was a notable cheater and coney-catcher--he was a very\ngallant and proper man of his person, only that he was a little lecherous,\nand naturally subject to a kind of disease which at that time they called\nlack of money--it is an incomparable grief, yet, notwithstanding, he had\nthree score and three tricks to come by it at his need, of which the most\nhonourable and most ordinary was in manner of thieving, secret purloining\nand filching, for he was a wicked lewd rogue, a cozener, drinker, roister,\nrover, and a very dissolute and debauched fellow, if there were any in\nParis; otherwise, and in all matters else, the best and most virtuous man\nin the world; and he was still contriving some plot, and devising mischief\nagainst the sergeants and the watch. At one time he assembled three or four especial good hacksters and roaring\nboys, made them in the evening drink like Templars, afterwards led them\ntill they came under St. Genevieve, or about the college of Navarre, and,\nat the hour that the watch was coming up that way--which he knew by putting\nhis sword upon the pavement, and his ear by it, and, when he heard his\nsword shake, it was an infallible sign that the watch was near at that\ninstant--then he and his companions took a tumbrel or dung-cart, and gave\nit the brangle, hurling it with all their force down the hill, and so\noverthrew all the poor watchmen like pigs, and then ran away upon the other\nside; for in less than two days he knew all the streets, lanes, and\nturnings in Paris as well as his Deus det. At another time he made in some fair place, where the said watch was to\npass, a train of gunpowder, and, at the very instant that they went along,\nset fire to it, and then made himself sport to see what good grace they had\nin running away, thinking that St. Anthony's fire had caught them by the\nlegs. As for the poor masters of arts, he did persecute them above all\nothers. When he encountered with any of them upon the street, he would not\nnever fail to put some trick or other upon them, sometimes putting the bit\nof a fried turd in their graduate hoods, at other times pinning on little\nfoxtails or hares'-ears behind them, or some such other roguish prank. One\nday that they were appointed all to meet in the Fodder Street (Sorbonne),\nhe made a Borbonesa tart, or filthy and slovenly compound, made of store of\ngarlic, of assafoetida, of castoreum, of dogs' turds very warm, which he\nsteeped, tempered, and liquefied in the corrupt matter of pocky boils and\npestiferous botches; and, very early in the morning therewith anointed all\nthe pavement, in such sort that the devil could not have endured it, which\nmade all these good people there to lay up their gorges, and vomit what was\nupon their stomachs before all the world, as if they had flayed the fox;\nand ten or twelve of them died of the plague, fourteen became lepers,\neighteen grew lousy, and about seven and twenty had the pox, but he did not\ncare a button for it. He commonly carried a whip under his gown, wherewith\nhe whipped without remission the pages whom he found carrying wine to their\nmasters, to make them mend their pace. In his coat he had above six and\ntwenty little fobs and pockets always full; one with some lead-water, and a\nlittle knife as sharp as a glover's needle, wherewith he used to cut\npurses; another with some kind of bitter stuff, which he threw into the\neyes of those he met; another with clotburrs, penned with little geese' or\ncapon's feathers, which he cast upon the gowns and caps of honest people,\nand often made them fair horns, which they wore about all the city,\nsometimes all their life. Very often, also, upon the women's French hoods\nwould he stick in the hind part somewhat made in the shape of a man's\nmember. In another, he had a great many little horns full of fleas and\nlice, which he borrowed from the beggars of St. Innocent, and cast them\nwith small canes or quills to write with into the necks of the daintiest\ngentlewomen that he could find, yea, even in the church, for he never\nseated himself above in the choir, but always sat in the body of the church\namongst the women, both at mass, at vespers, and at sermon. In another, he\nused to have good store of hooks and buckles, wherewith he would couple men\nand women together that sat in company close to one another, but especially\nthose that wore gowns of crimson taffeties, that, when they were about to\ngo away, they might rend all their gowns. In another, he had a squib\nfurnished with tinder, matches, stones to strike fire, and all other\ntackling necessary for it. In another, two or three burning glasses,\nwherewith he made both men and women sometimes mad, and in the church put\nthem quite out of countenance; for he said that there was but an\nantistrophe, or little more difference than of a literal inversion, between\na woman folle a la messe and molle a la fesse, that is, foolish at the mass\nand of a pliant buttock. In another, he had a good deal of needles and thread, wherewith he did a\nthousand little devilish pranks. One time, at the entry of the palace unto\nthe great hall, where a certain grey friar or cordelier was to say mass to\nthe counsellors, he did help to apparel him and put on his vestments, but\nin the accoutring of him he sewed on his alb, surplice, or stole, to his\ngown and shirt, and then withdrew himself when the said lords of the court\nor counsellors came to hear the said mass; but when it came to the Ite,\nmissa est, that the poor frater would have laid by his stole or surplice,\nas the fashion then was, he plucked off withal both his frock and shirt,\nwhich were well sewed together, and thereby stripping himself up to the\nvery shoulders showed his bel vedere to all the world, together with his\nDon Cypriano, which was no small one, as you may imagine. And the friar\nstill kept haling, but so much the more did he discover himself and lay\nopen his back parts, till one of the lords of the court said, How now! what's the matter? Will this fair father make us here an offering of his\ntail to kiss it? Nay, St. Anthony's fire kiss it for us! From thenceforth\nit was ordained that the poor fathers should never disrobe themselves any\nmore before the world, but in their vestry-room, or sextry, as they call\nit; especially in the presence of women, lest it should tempt them to the\nsin of longing and disordinate desire. The people then asked why it was\nthe friars had so long and large genitories? The said Panurge resolved the\nproblem very neatly, saying, That which makes asses to have such great ears\nis that their dams did put no biggins on their heads, as Alliaco mentioneth\nin his Suppositions. By the like reason, that which makes the genitories\nor generation-tools of those so fair fraters so long is, for that they wear\nno bottomed breeches, and therefore their jolly member, having no\nimpediment, hangeth dangling at liberty as far as it can reach, with a\nwiggle-waggle down to their knees, as women carry their paternoster beads. and the cause wherefore they have it so correspondently great is, that in\nthis constant wig-wagging the humours of the body descend into the said\nmember. For, according to the Legists, agitation and continual motion is\ncause of attraction. Item, he had another pocket full of itching powder, called stone-alum,\nwhereof he would cast some into the backs of those women whom he judged to\nbe most beautiful and stately, which did so ticklishly gall them, that some\nwould strip themselves in the open view of the world, and others dance like\na cock upon hot embers, or a drumstick on a tabor. Others, again, ran\nabout the streets, and he would run after them. To such as were in the\nstripping vein he would very civilly come to offer his attendance, and\ncover them with his cloak, like a courteous and very gracious man.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-30, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-02-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Item, in another he had a little leather bottle full of old oil, wherewith,\nwhen he saw any man or woman in a rich new handsome suit, he would grease,\nsmutch, and spoil all the best parts of it under colour and pretence of\ntouching them, saying, This is good cloth; this is good satin; good\ntaffeties! Madam, God give you all that your noble heart desireth! You\nhave a new suit, pretty sir;--and you a new gown, sweet mistress;--God give\nyou joy of it, and maintain you in all prosperity! And with this would lay\nhis hand upon their shoulder, at which touch such a villainous spot was\nleft behind, so enormously engraven to perpetuity in the very soul, body,\nand reputation, that the devil himself could never have taken it away. Then, upon his departing, he would say, Madam, take heed you do not fall,\nfor there is a filthy great hole before you, whereinto if you put your\nfoot, you will quite spoil yourself. Another he had all full of euphorbium, very finely pulverized. In that\npowder did he lay a fair handkerchief curiously wrought, which he had\nstolen from a pretty seamstress of the palace, in taking away a louse from\noff her bosom which he had put there himself, and, when he came into the\ncompany of some good ladies, he would trifle them into a discourse of some\nfine workmanship of bone-lace, then immediately put his hand into their\nbosom, asking them, And this work, is it of Flanders, or of Hainault? and\nthen drew out his handkerchief, and said, Hold, hold, look what work here\nis, it is of Foutignan or of Fontarabia, and shaking it hard at their nose,\nmade them sneeze for four hours without ceasing. In the meanwhile he would\nfart like a horse, and the women would laugh and say, How now, do you fart,\nPanurge? No, no, madam, said he, I do but tune my tail to the plain song\nof the music which you make with your nose. In another he had a picklock,\na pelican, a crampiron, a crook, and some other iron tools, wherewith there\nwas no door nor coffer which he would not pick open. He had another full\nof little cups, wherewith he played very artificially, for he had his\nfingers made to his hand, like those of Minerva or Arachne, and had\nheretofore cried treacle. And when he changed a teston, cardecu, or any\nother piece of money, the changer had been more subtle than a fox if\nPanurge had not at every time made five or six sols (that is, some six or\nseven pence,) vanish away invisibly, openly, and manifestly, without making\nany hurt or lesion, whereof the changer should have felt nothing but the\nwind.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-02-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-02-01", "answer": "Pantagruel, Gargantua, Badebec, Alcofribas, Epistemon, Ponocrates, Panurge, Du Douhet, Lord Kissebreach, Lord Suckfist, genealogy of giants, birth of Pantagruel, death of Badebec, chained crib, breaking chains, Paris, Orleans, University of Paris, library of St. Victor, philosophy debates, law debates, natural sciences, moving the bell, bitter wine, letter from Gargantua, pursuit of knowledge, foreign languages, Greek, theology, politics, warfare, loyalty oath, Panurge's escape from Turkey, roasting alive, prison fire, dogs chase, city walls debate, noble lineage, crass humor, mean-spirited tricks, vile pranks, emotional conflict, legacy, thirst, superstitions, midwives, food vendors, salt sellers, tutors, degrees, verdict, court case, burning documents, direct testimony, judge, plaintiff, defendant, small fee for damages, companionship, mischievousness, discipline, character contrast, parent-child relationship, education, moral guidance, justice, nobility, satire, symbolism of thirst, bear-like hair, turtle with crib shell, legends of Gargantua, church bells, flooding streets, loyalty, betrayal, gambling, lust, poverty, contradictory character review, social commentary, Renaissance France"}]