keep them company.

As he spake this, he heard the litanies and the mementos of the priests
that carried his wife to be buried, upon which he left the good purpose he
was in, and was suddenly ravished another way, saying, Lord God! must I
again contrist myself? This grieves me. I am no longer young, I grow old,
the weather is dangerous; I may perhaps take an ague, then shall I be
foiled, if not quite undone. By the faith of a gentleman, it were better
to cry less, and drink more. My wife is dead, well, by G--! (da jurandi) I
shall not raise her again by my crying: she is well, she is in paradise at
least, if she be no higher: she prayeth to God for us, she is happy, she
is above the sense of our miseries, nor can our calamities reach her. What
though she be dead, must not we also die? The same debt which she hath
paid hangs over our heads; nature will require it of us, and we must all of
us some day taste of the same sauce. Let her pass then, and the Lord
preserve the survivors; for I must now cast about how to get another wife.
But I will tell you what you shall do, said he to the midwives, in France
called wise women (where be they, good folks? I cannot see them): Go you
to my wife's interment, and I will the while rock my son; for I find myself
somewhat altered and distempered, and should otherwise be in danger of
falling sick; but drink one good draught first, you will be the better for
it. And believe me, upon mine honour, they at his request went to her
burial and funeral obsequies. In the meanwhile, poor Gargantua staying at
home, and willing to have somewhat in remembrance of her to be engraven
upon her tomb, made this epitaph in the manner as followeth.

Dead is the noble Badebec,
Who had a face like a rebeck;
A Spanish body, and a belly
Of Switzerland; she died, I tell ye,