The fellow was all caparisoned with spectacles as a tortoise is with shells, and lived on nothing but a sort of food which, in their gibberish, was called appeals.
Pantagruel asked Double-fee of what breed was that prothonotary, and what name they gave him.

Double-fee told us that time out of mind he had been kept there in chains, to the great grief of their worships, who starved him, and his name was Review.

By the pope's sanctified two-pounders, cried Friar John, I do not much wonder at the meagre cheer which this old chuff finds among their worships.

Do but look a little on the weather-beaten scratch-toby, friend Panurge; by the sacred tip of my cowl, I'll lay five pounds to a hazel-nut the foul thief has the very looks of Gripe-me-now.
These same fellows here, ignorant as they be, are as sharp and knowing as other folk.

But were it my case, I would send him packing with a squib in his breech like a rogue as he is.