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Chapter 3 Of the grief wherewith Gargantua was moved at the decease of hi_ife Badebec

  • When Pantagruel was born, there was none more astonished and perplexed tha_as his father Gargantua; for of the one side seeing his wife Badebec dead,
  • and on the other side his son Pantagruel born, so fair and so great, he kne_ot what to say nor what to do. And the doubt that troubled his brain was t_now whether he should cry for the death of his wife or laugh for the joy o_is son. He was hinc inde choked with sophistical arguments, for he frame_hem very well in modo et figura, but he could not resolve them, remainin_estered and entangled by this means, like a mouse caught in a trap or kit_nared in a gin. Shall I weep? said he. Yes, for why? My so good wife is dead,
  • who was the most this, the most that, that ever was in the world. Never shal_ see her, never shall I recover such another; it is unto me an inestimabl_oss! O my good God, what had I done that thou shouldest thus punish me? Wh_idst thou not take me away before her, seeing for me to live without her i_ut to languish? Ah, Badebec, Badebec, my minion, my dear heart, my sugar, m_weeting, my honey, my little c— (yet it had in circumference full six acres,
  • three rods, five poles, four yards, two foot, one inch and a half of goo_oodland measure), my tender peggy, my codpiece darling, my bob and hit, m_lipshoe-lovey, never shall I see thee! Ah, poor Pantagruel, thou hast los_hy good mother, thy sweet nurse, thy well-beloved lady! O false death, ho_njurious and despiteful hast thou been to me! How malicious and outrageou_ave I found thee in taking her from me, my well-beloved wife, to who_mmortality did of right belong!
  • With these words he did cry like a cow, but on a sudden fell a-laughing like _alf, when Pantagruel came into his mind. Ha, my little son, said he, m_hildilolly, fedlifondy, dandlichucky, my ballocky, my pretty rogue! O ho_olly thou art, and how much am I bound to my gracious God, that hath bee_leased to bestow on me a son so fair, so spriteful, so lively, so smiling, s_leasant, and so gentle! Ho, ho, ho, ho, how glad I am! Let us drink, ho, an_ut away melancholy! Bring of the best, rinse the glasses, lay the cloth,
  • drive out these dogs, blow this fire, light candles, shut that door there, cu_his bread in sippets for brewis, send away these poor folks in giving the_hat they ask, hold my gown. I will strip myself into my doublet (en cuerpo),
  • to make the gossips merry, and keep them company.
  • As he spake this, he heard the litanies and the mementos of the priests tha_arried 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 contris_yself? This grieves me. I am no longer young, I grow old, the weather i_angerous; I may perhaps take an ague, then shall I be foiled, if not quit_ndone. By the faith of a gentleman, it were better to cry less, and drin_ore. My wife is dead, well, by G—! (da jurandi) I shall not raise her agai_y 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 ou_iseries, nor can our calamities reach her. What though she be dead, must no_e also die? The same debt which she hath paid hangs over our heads; natur_ill 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 cas_bout how to get another wife. But I will tell you what you shall do, said h_o the midwives, in France called wise women (where be they, good folks? _annot see them): Go you to my wife's interment, and I will the while rock m_on; for I find myself somewhat altered and distempered, and should otherwis_e in danger of falling sick; but drink one good draught first, you will b_he better for it. And believe me, upon mine honour, they at his request wen_o her burial and funeral obsequies. In the meanwhile, poor Gargantua stayin_t home, and willing to have somewhat in remembrance of her to be engrave_pon her tomb, made this epitaph in the manner as followeth.
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  • 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,
  • In childbirth. Pray to God, that her
  • He pardon wherein she did err.
  • Here lies her body, which did live
  • Free from all vice, as I believe,
  • And did decease at my bedside,
  • The year and day in which she died.
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