w there great rocks, like the
mountains in Denmark--I believe that those were his teeth. I saw also fair
meadows, large forests, great and strong cities not a jot less than Lyons
or Poictiers. The first man I met with there was a good honest fellow
planting coleworts, whereat being very much amazed, I asked him, My friend,
what dost thou make here? I plant coleworts, said he. But how, and
wherewith? said I. Ha, sir, said he, everyone cannot have his ballocks as
heavy as a mortar, neither can we be all rich. Thus do I get my poor
living, and carry them to the market to sell in the city which is here
behind. Jesus! said I, is there here a new world? Sure, said he, it is
never a jot new, but it is commonly reported that, without this, there is
an earth, whereof the inhabitants enjoy the light of a sun and a moon, and
that it is full of and replenished with very good commodities; but yet this
is more ancient than that. Yea but, said I, my friend, what is the name of
that city whither thou carriest thy coleworts to sell? It is called
Aspharage, said he, and all the indwellers are Christians, very honest men,
and will make you good cheer. To be brief, I resolved to go thither. Now,
in my way, I met with a fellow that was lying in wait to catch pigeons, of
whom I asked, My friend, from whence come these pigeons? Sir, said he,
they come from the other world. Then I thought that, when Pantagruel
yawned, the pigeons went into his mouth in whole flocks, thinking that it
had been a pigeon-house.

Then I went into the city, which I found fair, very strong, and seated in a
good air; but at my entry the guard demanded of me my pass or ticket.
Whereat I was much astonished, and asked them, My masters, is there any
danger of the plague here? O Lord! said they, they die hard by here so
fast that the cart runs about the streets. Good God! said I, and where?
Whereunto they answered that it was in Larynx and Pharynx, which are two
great cities such as Rouen and Nantes, rich and of great trading. And the
cause of the plague was by a stinking and infectious exhalation which
lately vapoured out of the abysms, whereof there have died above two and
twenty hundred and threescore thousand and sixteen persons within this
sevennight. Then I considered, calculated, and found that it was a rank
and unsavoury breathing which came out of Pantagruel's stomach when he did
eat so much garlic, as we have aforesaid.

Parting from thence, I