s to be seen on the top of St.
Peter's needle at Rome, and in such sort that they did open in the midst
and shut with a spring. Into one of them entered one of his men carrying a
lantern and a torch lighted, and so Pantagruel swallowed him down like a
little pill. Into seven others went seven country-fellows, having every
one of them a shovel on his neck. Into nine others entered nine
wood-carriers, having each of them a basket hung at his neck, and so were
they swallowed down like pills. When they were in his stomach, every one
undid his spring, and came out of their cabins. The first whereof was he
that carried the lantern, and so they fell more than half a league into a
most horrible gulf, more stinking and infectious than ever was Mephitis, or
the marshes of the Camerina, or the abominably unsavoury lake of Sorbona,
whereof Strabo maketh mention. And had it not been that they had very well
antidoted their stomach, heart, and wine-pot, which is called the noddle,
they had been altogether suffocated and choked with these detestable
vapours. O what a perfume! O what an evaporation wherewith to bewray the
masks or mufflers of young mangy queans. After that, with groping and
smelling they came near to the faecal matter and the corrupted humours.
Finally, they found a montjoy or heap of ordure and filth. Then fell the
pioneers to work to dig it up, and the rest with their shovels filled the
baskets; and when all was cleansed every one retired himself into his ball.

This done, Pantagruel enforcing himself to vomit, very easily brought them
out, and they made no more show in his mouth than a fart in yours. But,
when they came merrily out of their pills, I thought upon the Grecians
coming out of the Trojan horse. By this means was he healed and brought
unto his former state and convalescence; and of these brazen pills, or
rather copper balls, you have one at Orleans, upon the steeple of the Holy
Cross Church.

Chapter 2.XXXIV.

The conclusion of this present book, and the excuse of the author.

Now, my masters, you have heard a beginning of the horrific history of my
lord and master Pantagruel. Here will I make an end of the first book. My
head aches a little, and I perceive that the registers of my brain are
somewhat jumbled and disordered with this Septembral juice. You shall have
the rest of the history at Frankfort mart next coming, and there shall you
see how Panurge was married and made a cuckold