Their paws were as long as a crane's foot, and their claws four-and-twenty inches long at least; for you must know they are enjoined never to pare off the least chip of them, so that they grow as crooked as a Welsh hook or a hedging-bill.
We saw a swingeing bunch of grapes that are gathered and squeezed in that country, brought in by them.

As soon as it was laid down, they clapped it into the press, and there was not a bit of it out of which each of them did not squeeze some oil of gold; insomuch that the poor grape was tried with a witness, and brought off so drained and picked, and so dry, that there was not the least moisture, juice, or substance left in it; for they had pressed out its very quintessence.
Double-fee told us they had not often such huge bunches; but, let the worst come to the worst, they were sure never to be without others in their press.

But hark you me, master of mine, asked Panurge, have they not some of different growth?
Ay, marry have they, quoth Double-fee.

Do you see here this little bunch, to which they are going to give t'other wrench?
It is of tithe-growth, you must know; they crushed, wrung, squeezed and strained out the very heart's blood of it but the other day; but it did not bleed freely; the oil came hard, and smelt of the priest's chest; so that they found there was not much good to be got out of it.

Why then, said Pantagruel, do they put it again into the press?
Only, answered Double-fee, for fear there should still lurk some juice among the husks and hullings in the mother of the grape.