rns? Fri. None.

Pan. How do you pig together? Fri. Bare.

Pan. Remember you're upon your oath, and tell me justly and bona fide how
many times a day you monk it? Fri. Six.

Pan. How many bouts a-nights? Fri. Ten.

Catso, quoth Friar John, the poor fornicating brother is bashful, and
sticks at sixteen, as if that were his stint. Right, quoth Panurge, but
couldst thou keep pace with him, Friar John, my dainty cod? May the
devil's dam suck my teat if he does not look as if he had got a blow over
the nose with a Naples cowl-staff.

Pan. Pray, Friar Shakewell, does your whole fraternity quaver and shake at
that rate? Fri. All.

Pan. Who of them is the best cock o' the game? Fri. I.

Pan. Do you never commit dry-bobs or flashes in the pan? Fri. None.

Pan. I blush like any black dog, and could be as testy as an old cook when
I think on all this; it passes my understanding. But, pray, when you have
been pumped dry one day, what have you got the next? Fri. More.

Pan. By Priapus, they have the Indian herb of which Theophrastus spoke, or
I'm much out. But, hearkee me, thou man of brevity, should some
impediment, honestly or otherwise, impair your talents and cause your
benevolence to lessen, how would it fare with you, then? Fri. Ill.

Pan. What would the wenches do? Fri. Rail.

Pan. What if you skipped, and let 'em fast a whole day? Fri. Worse.

Pan. What do you give 'em then? Fri. Thwacks.

Pan. What do they say to this? Fri. Bawl.

Pan. And what else? Fri. Curse.

Pan. How do you correct 'em? Fri. Hard.

Pan. What do you get out of 'em then? Fri. Blood.

Pan. How's their complexion then? Fri. Odd.

Pan. What do they mend it with? Fri. Paint.

Pan. Then what do they do? Fri. Fawn.

Pan. By the oath you have taken, tell me truly what time of the year do
you do it least in? Fri. Now (August.).

Pan. What season do you do it best in? Fri. March.

Pan. How is your performance the rest of the year? Fri. Brisk.

Then quoth Panurge, sneering, Of all, and of all, commend me to Ball; this
is the friar of the world for my money. You've heard how short, concise,
and compendious he is in his answers. Nothing is to be got out of him but
monosyllables. By jingo, I believe he would make three bites of a cherry.

Damn him, cried Friar John, that's as true as I am his uncle. The dog
yelps at another gate's rate when he is among his bitches; the