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Gargantua and Pantagruel, Illustrated, Book 2 by François Rabelais
page 69 of 151 (45%)
fire, fire. Incontinently turning about, he came straight towards me to
throw me quite into the fire, and to that effect had already cut the ropes
wherewith my hands were tied, and was undoing the cords from off my feet,
when the master of the house hearing him cry Fire, and smelling the smoke
from the very street where he was walking with some other Bashaws and
Mustaphas, ran with all the speed he had to save what he could, and to
carry away his jewels. Yet such was his rage, before he could well resolve
how to go about it, that he caught the broach whereon I was spitted and
therewith killed my roaster stark dead, of which wound he died there for
want of government or otherwise; for he ran him in with the spit a little
above the navel, towards the right flank, till he pierced the third lappet
of his liver, and the blow slanting upwards from the midriff or diaphragm,
through which it had made penetration, the spit passed athwart the
pericardium or capsule of his heart, and came out above at his shoulders,
betwixt the spondyls or turning joints of the chine of the back and the
left homoplat, which we call the shoulder-blade.

True it is, for I will not lie, that, in drawing the spit out of my body I
fell to the ground near unto the andirons, and so by the fall took some
hurt, which indeed had been greater, but that the lardons, or little slices
of bacon wherewith I was stuck, kept off the blow. My Bashaw then seeing
the case to be desperate, his house burnt without remission, and all his
goods lost, gave himself over unto all the devils in hell, calling upon
some of them by their names, Grilgoth, Astaroth, Rappalus, and Gribouillis,
nine several times. Which when I saw, I had above sixpence' worth of fear,
dreading that the devils would come even then to carry away this fool, and,
seeing me so near him, would perhaps snatch me up to. I am already,
thought I, half roasted, and my lardons will be the cause of my mischief;
for these devils are very liquorous of lardons, according to the authority
which you have of the philosopher Jamblicus, and Murmault, in the Apology
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