Another he had all full of euphorbium, very finely
pulverized. In that powder did he lay a fair
handkerchief curiously wrought, which he had stolen
from a pretty seamstress of the palace, in taking away
a louse from off her bosom which he had put there
himself, and, when he came into the company of some
good ladies, he would trifle them into a discourse
of some fine workmanship of bone-lace, then immediately
put his hand into their bosom, asking them, And this
work, is it of Flanders, or of Hainault? and then
drew out his handkerchief, and said, Hold, hold, look
what work here is, it is of Foutignan or of Fontarabia,
and shaking it hard at their nose, made them sneeze
for four hours without ceasing. In the meanwhile
he would fart like a horse, and the women would laugh
and say, How now, do you fart, Panurge? No,
no, madam, said he, I do but tune my tail to the plain
song of the music which you make with your nose.
In another he had a picklock, a pelican, a crampiron,
a crook, and some other iron tools, wherewith there
was no door nor coffer which he would not pick open.
He had another full of little cups, wherewith he
played very artificially, for he had his fingers made
to his hand, like those of Minerva or Arachne, and
had heretofore cried treacle. And when he changed
a teston, cardecu, or any other piece of money, the
changer had been more subtle than a fox if Panurge
had not at every time made five or six sols (that is,
some six or seven pence,) vanish away invisibly, openly,
and manifestly, without making any hurt or lesion,
whereof the changer should have felt nothing but the
wind.
Chapter 2.XVII.
How Panurge gained the pardons, and married the old
women, and of the suit in law which he had at Paris.
One day I found Panurge very much out of countenance,
melancholic, and silent; which made me suspect that
he had no money; whereupon I said unto him, Panurge,
you are sick, as I do very well perceive by your physiognomy,
and I know the disease. You have a flux in your
purse; but take no care. I have yet sevenpence
halfpenny that never saw father nor mother, which
shall not be wanting, no more than the pox, in your
necessity. Whereunto he answered me, Well, well;
for money one day I shall have but too much, for I
have a philosopher’s stone which attracts money
out of men’s purses as the adamant doth iron.
But will you go with me to gain the pardons? said
he. By my faith, said I, I am no great pardon-taker
in this world—if I shall be any such in
the other, I cannot tell; yet let us go, in God’s
name; it is but one farthing more or less; But, said
he, lend me then a farthing upon interest. No,
no, said I; I will give it you freely, and from my
heart. Grates vobis dominos, said he.
