The first [second] book of the works of Mr. Francis Rabelais, Doctor in Physick, containing five books of the lives, heroick deeds, and sayings of Gargantua, and his sonne Pantagruel. Together with the Pantagrueline prognostication, the oracle of the divine Bachus, and response of the bottle. Hereunto are annexed the navigations unto the sounding isle, and the isle of the Apedests: as likewise the philosophical cream with a Limosm epistle. / All done by Mr. Francis Rabelais, in the French tongue, and now faithfully translated into English.

TO THE HONOURED, NOBLE Translatour OF RABELAIS.

RABELAIS whose wit prodigiously was made All men, professions, actions to invade, With so much furious vigour, as if it Had liv'd, ore each of them and each had quit: Yet with such happy slight and carelesse skill As, like the serpent, doth with laughter kill; So that although his noble leaves appear. Antick and Gottish, and dull souls forbear To turne them o're, lest they should only finde Nothing but savage Monsters of a minde; No shapen beautuous thoughts; yet when the wise Seriously strip him of his wilde disguise, Melt down his drosse, refine his massie ore, And polish that which seem'd rough-cast before,

Search his deep sense, unveil his hidden mirth, And make that fiery which before seem'd earth; (Conquering those things of highest consequence, What's difficult of language or of sense) He will appear some noble table writ, In th' old Egyptian Hieroglyphick wit: Where though you Monsters and Grotescoes see, You meet all mysteries of Philosophie. For he was wise and Sovereignly bred To know what mankinde is, how't may be led: He stoop'd unto them, like that wiseman, who Rid on a stick when's children would do so. For we are easie sullen things, and must Be laught aright, and cheated into trust, Whil'st a black piece of Flegme that laies about Dull menaces, and terrifies the rout. And Cajoles it with all its peevish strength Pitiously stretch'd and botch'd up into length, Whil'st the tir'd rabble sleepily obey Such opiate talk, and snore away the day. By all his noise as much their mindes releeves, As caterwalling of wilde Cats frights theeves.

But RABELAIS was another thing, a man Made up of all that Art and Nature can Forme from a fiery Genius, he was one Whose soul so universally was throwne Through all the Arts of life, who understood Each stratagem by which we stray from good So that he best might solid vertue teach, As some 'gainst sinnes of their own bosomes preach: He from wise choice did the true meanes preferre, In the fooles coat acting th' Philosopher.

Thus hoary Esop's beasts did mildly tame Fierce man, and moralize him into shame; Thus brave Romances while they seeme to lay Great traines of lust, Platonick love display; Thus would old Sparta, if a seldome chance Shew'd a drunk slave, teach children temperance; Thus did the later Poets nobly bring The scene to height, making the foole the King.

And, noble Sir, you vigorously have trod In this hard path, unknown, un-understood By its own countreymen, 'tis you appeare Our full enjoyment which was our despaire, Scattering his mists, cheering his Cynick frowns (For radiant brightnesse now dark Rabelais crownes.)

Leaving your brave Heroick cares which must Make better mankinde and embalme your dust, So undeceiving us that now we see All wit in Gascone and in Cromartie, Besides that Rabelais is conveigh'd to us, And that our Scotland is not barbarous.

J. de la Salle.