ofitable. On this lady were penned these subsequent
verses, which are extant in the third book of the Shitbrana of Paltry
Wenches.

When Yoland saw her spouse equipp'd for fight,
And, save the codpiece, all in armour dight,
My dear, she cried, why, pray, of all the rest
Is that exposed, you know I love the best?
Was she to blame for an ill-managed fear,--
Or rather pious, conscionable care?
Wise lady, she! In hurlyburly fight,
Can any tell where random blows may light?

Leave off then, sir, from being astonished, and wonder no more at this new
manner of decking and trimming up of myself as you now see me.

Chapter 3.IX.

How Panurge asketh counsel of Pantagruel whether he should marry, yea, or
no.

To this Pantagruel replying nothing, Panurge prosecuted the discourse he
had already broached, and therewithal fetching, as from the bottom of his
heart, a very deep sigh, said, My lord and master, you have heard the
design I am upon, which is to marry, if by some disastrous mischance all
the holes in the world be not shut up, stopped, closed, and bushed. I
humbly beseech you, for the affection which of a long time you have borne
me, to give me your best advice therein. Then, answered Pantagruel, seeing
you have so decreed, taken deliberation thereon, and that the matter is
fully determined, what need is there of any further talk thereof, but
forthwith to put it into execution what you have resolved? Yea but, quoth
Panurge, I would be loth to act anything therein without your counsel had
thereto. It is my judgment also, quoth Pantagruel, and I advise you to it.
Nevertheless, quoth Panurge, if I understood aright that it were much
better for me to remain a bachelor as I am, than to run headlong upon new
hairbrained undertakings of conjugal adventure, I would rather choose not
to marry. Quoth Pantagruel, Then do not marry. Yea but, quoth Panurge,
would you have me so solitarily drive out the whole course of my life,
without the comfort of a matrimonial consort? You know it is written, Vae
soli! and a single person is never seen to reap the joy and solace that is
found with married folks. Then marry, in the name of God, quoth
Pantagruel. But if, quoth Panurge, my wife should make me a cuckold--as it
is not unknown unto you, how this hath been a very plentiful year in the
production of that kind of cattle--I would fly out, and grow impatient
beyond all measure and mean. I love cuckolds with