Nay, with their very dung (with reverence be it spoken) the doctors in our country make pills that cure seventy-eight kinds of diseases, the least of which is the evil of St.Eutropius of Xaintes, from which, good Lord, deliver us! Now what do you think on't, neighbour, my friend?
The truth is, they cost me money, that they do.

Cost what they will, cried Panurge, trade with me for one of them, paying you well.

Our friend, quoth the quacklike sheepman, do but mind the wonders of nature that are found in those animals, even in a member which one would think were of no use.

Take me but these horns, and bray them a little with an iron pestle, or with an andiron, which you please, it is all one to me; then bury them wherever you will, provided it be where the sun may shine, and water them frequently; in a few months I'll engage you will have the best asparagus in the world, not even excepting those of Ravenna.

Now, come and tell me whether the horns of your other knights of the bull's feather have such a virtue and wonderful propriety?
Patience, said Panurge.