Rabelais to the Reader
Good friends, my Readers, who peruse this Book,Be not offended, whilst on it you look:Denude yourselves of all depraved affection,For it contains no badness, nor infection:’Tis true that it brings forth to you no birthOf any value, but in point of mirth;Thinking therefore how sorrow might your mindConsume, I could no apter subject find;One inch of joy surmounts of grief a span;Because to laugh is proper to the man.