is far better living on this side, and the air is purer.  Then I began to think that it is very true which is commonly said, that the one half of the world knoweth not how the other half liveth; seeing none before myself had ever written of that country, wherein are above five-and-twenty kingdoms inhabited, besides deserts, and a great arm of the sea.  Concerning which purpose I have composed a great book, entitled, The History of the Throttias, because they dwell in the throat of my master Pantagruel.

At last I was willing to return, and, passing by his beard, I cast myself upon his shoulders, and from thence slid down to the ground, and fell before him.  As soon as I was perceived by him, he asked me, Whence comest thou, Alcofribas?  I answered him, Out of your mouth, my lord.  And how long hast thou been there? said he.  Since the time, said I, that you went against the Almirods.  That is about six months ago, said he.  And wherewith didst thou live?  What didst thou drink?  I answered, My lord, of the same that you did, and of the daintiest morsels that passed through your throat I took toll.  Yea but, said he, where didst thou shite?  In your throat, my lord, said I. Ha, ha! thou art a merry fellow, said he.  We have with the help of God conquered all the land of the Dipsodes; I will give thee the Chastelleine, or Lairdship of Salmigondin.  Gramercy, my lord, said I, you gratify me beyond all that I have deserved of you.

Chapter 2.XXXIII.

How Pantagruel became sick, and the manner how he was recovered.

A while after this the good Pantagruel fell sick, and had such an obstruction in his stomach that he could neither eat nor drink; and, because mischief seldom comes alone, a hot piss seized on him, which tormented him more than you would believe.  His physicians nevertheless helped him very well, and with store of lenitives and diuretic drugs made him piss away his pain.  His urine was so hot that since that time it is not yet cold, and you have of it in divers places of France, according to the course that it took, and they are called the hot baths, as—­

    At Coderets. 
    At Limous. 
    At Dast. 
    At Ballervie (Balleruc). 
    At Neric. 
  At Bourbonansie, and elsewhere in Italy. 
    At Mongros. 
    At Appone. 
  At Sancto Petro de Padua. 
    At St. Helen. 
    At Casa Nuova. 
  At St. Bartholomew, in the county of Boulogne. 
  At the Porrette, and a thousand other places.

And I wonder much at a rabble of foolish philosophers and physicians, who spend their time in disputing whence the heat of the said waters cometh, whether it be by reason of borax, or sulphur, or alum, or saltpetre, that is within the mine.  For they do nothing but dote, and better were it for them to rub their arse against a thistle than to waste away their time thus in disputing of that whereof they know not the original; for the resolution is easy, neither need we to inquire any further than that the said baths came by a hot piss of the good Pantagruel.