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Uigniaüb, Google 


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§t la ptanc^H. 



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§t la Pancha. 



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LomiQ reader, thoa wilt believe me, I tmat, iñthont ui 
OAth, when I tell thee it was my earnest deeire that this off- 
^>ring of my bisin should be as beaatilii], iugetiions, and 
^lightly as it is possible to imagine ; but, slaa ! I have not 
beeo able to control that order in natnre's works whereby all 
things produce their like ; and, therefore, what oould be ex- 
pected from a mind sterile and tmcnltivated like mine, but a 
diy, meagre, fiuitaatical thin^ fall of etrauge conceits, and 
that might well be engendered in a prison — the dreadiii] 
abode of care, where nothing is heard bnt eounds q£ 
wretcbedneea } Leisure, Em agreeable residence, pleasant 
fields serene akiea, mormuring streams, and tranquillity of 
mind— by these the moat barren muae may become fruitful, 
and produce that which will delight and astouiah the 

Some parents are so hoodwinked by their excesáre fond- 
ness, that they see not the imperfections of their children, 
and mistake their folly and impertinence fur eprightliaeiM 
and wit ; but I, who, though seemingly the parent, am in 
tmth only the «tep-bther of Don Quixote, will not yield to 
thia prevailing infirmity ; nor will I— as othera would do — 
beseech thee, kind reader, aloioet with tears in my eyes, to 
pacdou or cuncital the faults thou mayest discover in tliia 
brat of mine. Besides thou art neither its kinsman nor 
fiñead ; thou art in possession of thine own soul, and of a 


IT author's PUEPACE. 

wiiil as free and absolute as the best ; and art, moreover, in 
thine own bouse, Iwing as much tbe lord and master of it 
as is tbe monarch of his revenue ; knowing also the common 
saying — "TTnder my cloak, & &g for & king;" wherefore, I 
say, thou art absolved and liberated from every restraint or 
obligation, and majest freely avow thy opinion on my per- 
formance, without fear or reproach for the evil, or hope of 
reward for the good, thou shalt say of it. Fun, indeed, 
would I have given it to thee naked as it vas born, witlunit 
the decoration of ». prefaoe, or that numerous train of son- 
neta, e^Mgrams, and other ealt^ea, now commonly placed at 
the beginning of every book ; for I confess that, althon^ 
mine cost me some labour in composing, I found no part of 
it BO difficult M this same Preface which thou art now 
reading ; yes, many a time have I taken up my pen, and as 
often laid it down again — not knowing what to writer 

Happening one day, when in this perplexity, to be «tting 
wich the paper before me, pen behind my ear, my elbow on 
tbe table, and my cheek resting on my hand, deeply pon- 
dering on what I should say, a lively and intelligent friend 
unexpectedly entered } and seeing me in that poetnre, be 
inquired what made me so thoughtfuL I told him I vas 
musing on a pre&ce for Don Quixote, and frankly confessed 
I had been so teased and harassed by it tliat I feit diqiosed 
to g^ve up the attempt, and trouble myself no further either 
• with the prefaoe or the book, but rather leave the achieve- 
ments of that noble knight unpublished. " For shall I not 
be confounded," súd I, " with the taunts of that old law- 
maker, the Vulgar, when, after so long a silence, I now, 
forsooth, come out, at this time of day, with a legend as dry 
as a rush, destitute of invention, in a wretched style, poor 
in conception, void of learning, and without either quota* 
tiona in the margin, or annolations at the end : white all 



other books, whether fabulous or proline, ore so stuñed with 
BeDtenoea from Aristotle, Plato, and the whole triba of 
philosophers, that the world ¡a amazed at tho extensive 
reading, deep learning, and extraordinary eloquence of their 
authors 1 Truly, when these wiseacres quote the Holy 
Scriptarea, yoa would take them for so many St. Thomases, 
or doctors of the church 1 And so observaut are they of 
the roles of decorom, that in one line they will cite yoa the 
ravings of a lover, and in the next some pious homily — to 
the delight of every reader. In all these matters my book 
will be wholly deficient ; for. Heaven knows, I have nothing 
either to quote or make notes npon ; noF do I know what 
authors I have followed, and therefore cannot display their 
names, as usoal, in alphabetical succes^on, beginning with 
Aristotle, and ending with Xenophoo, or Zoilus or Zeuxis 
— ^the one a painter, the other a slanderous critic It will 
also be ungraced by commendatory sonnets from the pens of 
dakes, marquises, earls, bishops, ladies of qnajity, or other 
iUustrtous poets : though, were I to request them of two or 
tht<ee humbler friends, I know they would supply me with 
such as many of higher name amongst us could not equal 
In short, my dear friend," continued I, " it is plain that 
Signor Don Quixote must lie buried amongst the musty 
records of 1a Mancha, till Heaven shall send some abler 
hand to fit him out in a manner suitable to his high desertsj 
since I find it impossible to perform that duty myself not 
only from a want of competent talents, but because I am 
naturally too lazy in hunting after authors to enable me to 
say what I can aay as well without them. These are the 
considerations that made me so thoughtful when yoQ 
entered; and yon must allow that it was not without 
soffident canse." 

On bearing this tale of distress, my friend struck bis 


forehead with the palm of hia hand, and, bursting into a 
loud laugh, said, " I now see I have been in error ever ainoe 
I hare known you ; I always took you for a discreet and 
sensible man, but now it appears you are as &r from being 
BO as heaven is from earth. What! is it possible that a 
thing of such little moment should have power to embaniiss 
and eonfouad a genius like youra, formed to overcome and 
trample under foot the greatest obstacles 1 — By my &itb, 
this is not incapacity, but sheer idleness ; and if you would 
be convinced that what I say is true, attend to me, and in 
the twinkling of an eye you shaU see me put those difficul- 
ties to the rout which you say prevent your introducing to 
the world the histoTj of the renowned Don Quixote, the 
light and mirror of all knight-errantry." 

" Say on," replied I, " and tell me how you propose to fill 
up the vacuum which my fear has created, or how brighten 
up the gloom that surrounds me." " Nothing so easy," súd 
he; "your first difficulty, respecting the want of sonnets, 
epigram^ or panegyrics by high and titled authors, may at 
once be removed ñmply by taking the trouble to compose 
them yourself, and then baptizing them by whatever name 
you please : fathering them upon Préster John of the Indies, 
or the Emperor Trapisonda, who, to my certain knowledge, 
were famous poets ; but suppose they were not so, and that 
sundry pedanta and praters, doubting that fiict, should 
slander you — heed them not : for should they even convict 
yon of fUsehood, they cannot deprive you of the hand that 
wrote it. 

" Now, as to your marginal citations oí those authors and 
books whence you collected the various sentences and say- 
ings interspersed through your history, it is but scattering 
here and there over yonr pages some scrajia of Latin, 
which you know by heart, or that will cost you but little 


troable to find : — for example^ when treaüng of liberty or 

and fhen <m the mu^in yoa clap me down the name of 
Horace, or whoever B^d it If yonr subject be the power 
of death, then opportunely come^ 

' Pallida mon, »qqo point poda p mp a nua tibatsM 

If fnen<]8hip, or loving onr enemies, aa God enjoin^ forth- 
with you look into the Holy Scriptures, and without any 
very curious search yon will be able to take the identical 
words of the eacred text : 

' EgD Hitaii dk» Tebii, diHgUa briniloM TMtroa.' 
1i yon should be speaking of evil thoughto, recollect the 
EvangelÍBt ; 

' I>« cords axennt oogttattones main.' 
On the inconstancy of ñiends, Cato will give you this 

By the aamstance of these^ or auch-like driblets of learning, 
you will at least gain the credit of being a scholar — a oha- 
ncter which in theee timea leads to both honoor and 

" A» for annotations at the end of your book, yon may 
safely manage it in thia manner : if you should have occa- 
sioD to speak of a giant, let it be Qoliah, for there you 
will have, at a small expense, a noble annotation, which 
will run thus : — ■ The giant Oolias, or Goliah, was a Fhilia- 
tine whom the shepherd David dew in the valley ot Terebin- 
thuB, by means of a great stone which he cast from a sling 



— u recorded in the Book of Einga, where you will find 
both chapter and verae. And, in order to prove yonnell 
skilled in literature and cosmography, take an opportnnity 
to mentioa the river Tagus, on which an admirable note will 
present itself to this effect : — ' The river Tagus wis so 
named by a king of Spain ; ita source ia in such a place ; 
after kijimng the walla of the celebrated city of Lisbon, it is 
ewalloved np in the ooean. Its sands are reported to be of 
gold' — and so on. If you would treat of robbers, I will 
fomish yon with the history of Oscos, for I have it at my 
fingers' ends ; and if of oonrteaans, there is the Bishop of 
Mondonedo, who will accommodate you with a lAmia, a 
Idis, and a Flora, which annotation cannot Cut to do yon in- 
finite credit. If you have to speak of cruel females, Ovid will 
supply you with Medea ; if enchanters and witches be your 
them^ Homer has a Calypso, and Yirgil a Ciice ; if valiant 
commanders, Julius Ciesar and his Commentaries are at your 
service, and Plutarch will give you a thousand Alexanders. 
If love should chance to engage your pen, with the two 
ounces which you possess of the Tuscan tongue, you may 
apply to Leon Hebreo, who will provide you abnudant^ ; 
or in case you dislike to visit foreign parts, you have here, at 
bome^ FonsecSi, on 'the Love of God,' which contains all 
that yon, or tbo most inquisitive, can possibly desire on that 
subject In shtfft, do you only contrive to introduce these 
names or allusion^ and leave both quotations and annota- 
tions to me ; for I will engage to fill np your margina, and 
add four whole sheets to the end of your book, 

" We now come to the list of quoted authors — another ^f 
your grieranoes, which also admits of an easy r«medy ; ft»- 
joo have only to look out for some book containing such an 
nlphabetioal list, from A down to Z, and transfer it bodily 
10 your own ; and should the aitafioe be iq^tarent from the 


Hule need yoa bad of their lielp, it matters cot ; some pei^ 
hap4 may be silly enough to beliere that in your plain and 
simple tale you really had made nse of every «me of them ; 
~-«t all eventu, such a display of kamed names will give 
yoor }k>A an air of importanoe at the first sight, and 
Dobody will take the tronble to examine irhether yon have 
followed them or not, áooe nothing wonld be güned by the 

" Tet after all, sir," continued my friend, " if I am not 
greatly mistaken^ none of these things are necessary to your 
book, whioh is a satire on the extravagant tales of ohtvaliy ; 
a subject never considered by Aristotle, overlooked by 
St. Basil, and utterly vnknown to Cicera The minnte 
Bocoiacies of tnie histoiy, the calculations of astrology, the 
measDTements of geometry, and subtleties of logi*^ having 
nothing to do with it ; neither does it interfere with eoole- 
siaetical concerns, mingling divine and hnman things — from 
which every good Christian shonld abstain : — to Katnre only 
do yoa refer ; she is yonr sole guide and example, and the 
more dosely yon attend to her suggestions, the more perfect 
miiat be your book. Books of chivalry are your game, 
and yonr ohid* purpose is to destroy their credit with the 
world ; yon therefore need not go begging for sentences 
from philosophers, precepts teoia holy writ, fables from 
poets, harangues from orators, nor miracles from saints, 
bnt amply endeavour to express yonr meaning in a clear 
and inteltigible manner ; and in well-chosen, significant, and 
deooroua terms, give a narmomons and pleasing tnm to 
yonr periods ; bo that the perasal of yonr histoiy may dispel 
the gloom of the melancholy, add to the cheerfnlness of the 
gay, and, while it aflbrds amosenfent even to the umple, it 
shall be approved by the grave, the judicious, and the wise. 
In fine, the down&l and demolition of that mischievous pile 

of abstirdily which, though despised by some, is admired by 
the many ; and, if succesBÜil, believe me, yoa will have per- 
fonned a service of no mean importanee." 

I listened to my friend's discourse in profound úlence, and 
so strongly was I impressed by his observations, that 1 
acknowledged their troth, and immediately converted them to 
my use, in composing this Preface ; wherein, gentle Reader, 
thou wilt perceive the judgment of my fnend, my own good 
fortune in meeting with bo able n counsellor in the crisis of 
my distress, and at the same time thou wilt confesa thy own 
eatiafiíeüon in thus receiving, in so simple and artless a 
manner, the Histoiy of the famous Don Quixote de la 
Mancha, who, in the opinion of all the inhabitants of the 
Campo de Montíel, was the chastest lover and most valiant 
knight that had appeared in those parta for many years. I 
will not enlarge on the benefit I confer in presenting to thee 
BO distinguished and honourable a personage ; hut I do 
expect some acknowledgment for having introduced to thy 
acquaintance his faithful attendant, the famous Bancho 
Panza, in whom are combined all the squirely endowments 
that are to be found scattered over the pages of knight- 
errantry, ¿nd now, may Qod give thee health 1 — not for- 
getting me. Farewell 

— ríAlíS»«*S.*!>T- 

UignieUb, Google 


Ceaf. 1— WUch trMla of tha quality and manner of Hfe of tmr 

reuowEad hero . , Pagi 1 

COAF. 2. — Which treats of the first uUy that Den Qoliote made fivm 

bie oaljvo Tillage . . . . . . . . i 

CbaF. 3. — Id which is related the pleasant matliod Don Quiiota took 

to be dubbed Knight . . . . 8 

Chaí. i. — Of what befsl oar kiusht after he had sallied from the 

inn 12 

Cbap. C. — WhsreiD Is eontinned the Damtion of our knot's mii' 

fortune , . . . . . . . , . IS 

Cb*p. a.— Of the grand and diTertinE- aeretínj made by the priest and 

the barber, in tJie library of our tngvnioui gentlemm IS 
Ch&F. 1. — Of the lacODd nlly of oar good knight Don Qiiiiote da la 

Hanoha , . 2S 

Ch^P. 8.— Of the valorous Don Quixote's SDCoess in (he dreadful and 

nerer-belore-imagiued adtentun of the windmills ; 

with other events worthy to be raewded . . . . 2S 

Chap. 9- — Wherein Is eoneluded the stupendoos battle between Uie 

gallant Bisaayao and the roliant Mnnche<:fnn . . 1 

CHif . 10. — Of the pleasant discouna whioh Don Quixote had wit^ his 

good squire Sancho Pama . . . . I 

Cbip. 1 1 .—Of what befel Don Quixote with the goatherds . . i 

Chap. 12. — What a certida goMberd related to Üiose who were wJUi 

Don QulioM . . .. : 

Cbap. 13. — The ooDcliision of the story of the shepherdess Marcela, 

with other ineideata .. • 

Chap. 14. — Wherein ara rahewsed the despdrlng versos of ths de- 

oeued ahephard, wltli other oneipectad erenU , . I 

Chap. 15.— Wherdn Is related the anfortunate advcDtare which beb) 
Don Qiriiota, tn meeting with oertaln unmerdfiil 

Chap. 16.~-0f what happened to Don Quixota to the inn which he 
bnaffined to be a easde . . I 

CbaP. 17. — Whenm are onntjnued the innumerable disaiitera that befel 
the brani Don Quixote and his (rood squire Boncho 
I^Ea In the inn whioh he untiappilj took for a castle i 

CbaP. 18. — The discourse whioh Sancho Pansa held with bis master 
DonQuiiotOi wiUk other adventures w<»th lalstiug .. 


Coip. IS.— Of the BBge diKooTM tbat paved betwMo Sancho and hii 
mtuler, and the succeeding adrenture of the dead body ; 
■with other &iDons uccarroDCei . . Pi¡S> 79 

Chap. 20. — Of the unparalleled adTenlnre acbiersd by the renonaed 
Dan QuiioEe, with lesa h^»rd than anj was ever 
achieved by the most foraoua knight hi the world . . 84 

Chap. 21. — Which treats of the gnad advsDturs and rich priis of 
Mambrino'a helmet, with other things which befel our 
invincible knight ..91 

Chap. 22. — How Don QuixoW set at hberty sevenii anfortunate per- 
■ODÉ, who, much agaJnst theirwiU, were being CDnveyed 
where they had no wlifa to g» . . . . 98 

Chap. 23.— Of what befel the renowned Don Quiiote in ths Siena 
Uorena, being one of the most unoommon adventures 
related in this faithhil history . . . . . . 105 

Chap. St.— AcontinnatioDDftheadventUTeiatheBiensHonma .. Hj 

CeaP. 25.— Which treats ol the strange thmgs that befol the valiant 
knight of 1a Mnncha in the SlerTs Uorena ; and how 
ho imitated the peoance of Beltonebroa .. 117 

CbaP. 23. — A oonttoaation of the refinements praotised by Don 

Qoixotc^ u a loTor, in the Sierra Morena . . 137 

Chap. 27. — How the priest and the barber put thwr dengn in eiscu- 
tkiD, with other matters worthy to ba remted in this 
hiatory 133 


Chap. 28.— WUchtmataofthenewandagTeeableadrantoreUiatbefél 
the priest end the barber in the Sierra Morena 

Chap. 29. — Which treats of the beautiñil Dorothea's discretion ; WJ 
other ver; ing«niotu ojid entertaining particulars 

Chap. 30.— Which tieaLi of the pleasant and ingeaiong method pur- 
■oed to withdraw our enamoured loiight from (he rigo- 
rous penance which he had imposed on himself . . 1 

Chap. 31. — Of ths relishing oonTersatioD which passed between Don 
Quixote and his squire Sancho Pania, with otlier 
mddenta . . . . . . . . . . ll 

Cbaf. 32. — Which treat* ol what befd Don Quixote and his company 
at the inn . , 1< 

Chaf. 33.— 1q wtiich is redted the novel of " The Curious Impv- 

CuAF. M. — In which is coatínoed " The Novel of the Curious Imper- 

Chap. SS.— The dreiadfiil battle which Don Quixote fousht with the 
winebags, and the conclusion of "The Novel of the 
Curious Imperünont" 

Chap. SS.— Which treats ol other uncommon incidents that hap- 

ChaP. 87. — Wher«in is oontinaed the history oí the fiunoua Intnta 

Uioomioona, vrith other ploasnnt adventures 
Chap. 38. — The omtinuaCion of Di>n Quixote's oorions oration upon 

arms and lettsra . . zu^ 

Chaf. 39. — Wh«^n the captive nlates his life and adventures .. 2Mi 
CbaP. 10.— In which is continued the history ol the onptjve . . 210 

Chap. 41.~Wbennn the captive continues h'is story . . 2IS 

Chap. 42.- Which treats of other oocuirencas at the hin ; and of 

vuious things worthy to be known . . . . 22C 


Chap. 13.— WIiMitrGataof tbeigraabkhiitoirnf UuToongnula- 
tear ; with other Hnnn wxádBBla Úat hapMood at 
theinn Pa^ 229 

CHAf. 41. — A oootiDiiatica ot tha azbaordinuy adnntuns Úwt h^ 

pmad n tha inn .. 23fi 

Chap. 16. — In whidi tfas dtqmU maoenuBe U unbTino'i haboat and 
tha panel ii daiddad ; wiih olhar adrantnrw that raally 
and tnil; hainwned . . 240 

Ch&p. 16.— In «Uch ia finlihed tha luMabla adxtDtora ot Ota bol; 
tKoUisduod ; with an aoconnt of the tbrocit; of our 
good knight Don Quiuta . . 341 

Chaf. 17. — Of tha itraiiga and wondarfii] maoiur in wUdi Don 

reniKrkabla «ourraDoaa "" .. T! ..216 

CBAf . 18. — In wtaioh tha caooo aautínuea fail fsaonrae on haoki of 

chivalry, with othv aukjeeita worthy ffiT hia gonial . . 261 
Chat. IV.— Ofthahigcolaaaooii&nioabatweaBSBiiDhsPBimBiidhIa 

nuuterDon Quixota . . 26S 

Chap. CO. — Of the Ingnioai oontast betwaan Don Quiote and the 

oaaon, with olhar tnaidaiti . . . . . . 262 

Chap. tn.—Thsgcntberd'anairetíve ..366 

CfiAf. C2.— Of tha qoatrel betwam Don Qolzota and ths goathaid ; 

wiüi the Til» adnDtnra of tha dlsolplinanli, irtiioh 

he hai^lr aoounpUdiad with th« twaat of hii 


Ptebea to Fart n. .. .. ..377 

Chap. 1. — Of what paned batween the priest, the barter, and Don 

Quixote, eoDoaniing hi* indiapoúticHi ..281 

Chap. 2. — Whuh treati of Oie notable qoairel between SanehoFania 
sad Don Quiiote'a nleoe and hoaaskMfier, with other 
plaaaant occDrreaoM 287 

Chap. S.— Of the pleasant oonTeraation whioh paned between Don 
Quixote, Saooho Fama, and the baahetor Bempaoa 
Carraaoo .. SM 

CBap. l.^WharaIa Sanoho Fann answan the baohelor Bampaon 
CatTOSCo'a doobte and qusatioiu ; with other inddenia 
wonhj of being known and redtod . . 29S 

Chap, (..-^ftbe discreet and pleeaaDt oonvemiüan whidhpaaaed 

between Sancho Panzn and bis wile Tareaa . . . . 2Q8 

Chap. 0. — Of wh^ passed lieCween Don Quixote, hie niece, and house- 
keeper; which ii one of the moat imporbuvt ch^ítera in 
the whole history . . . . 302 

Chap. 7. — Of what pasaad between Don Quixote and hi* aqnlre) with 

other remaikabie oooarranoea . . . . 805 

Chap. 8. — Wherein is r^ted what bebl Don Qdxote aa be was going 

to visit hta lady Dalcinea dal Toboao . , . . 310 

Chap. 0.— Which relate* whet will be tbundthwdn .. Sll 

Chap. 10. — Wherein is related the aunuing used by Bancho, in 
enchanting the lady Duldnea ; wiUi of nor ereala no 
Isaa hldicrou* than true . . • . 316 


Cháf. 11. — Of Uie itnnge adttaUm «hioh bafsl tha nlortraa Don 
Úoiiote, with ths oart^ or vun, of the Cortea of 
Da&th .. PageSa 

Cbát. 12. — Of the stnoige adventnre which befbl the valonnu Dod 

Qnisots with tha bnve ka%ht af Uta Mliron . . 8S5 

Cbaf. 13. — WhendD li oontínaed the kdveDtiire of the knif^t of tha 
Wood, with Uw wiae and pleuant dialogue betweoi the 
two iqidiaa . . 329 

Chat. U.— In which ia sontÍDaed tha adnoton ot the knight of tha 

Wood 332 

Chap. 15.— Orring an aoooimt ot the knight of the Hiiron and hii 

aqmra ,. .. 339 

Chap. 16.— Of what befe) Don Qnixota wil^ a warily nntleman of 

l«Maucha 340 

Cbap. 17.— Wherdn k let brth tho aibmna and hishait point at 
which the nnhsard-of ooarage of Don QoUote erer did 
or ever could bitítb ; with the happy * ' ' ■*- - 
adraoture of the lloiia 

BOOK 11. 

OOAP, 18.— Of what bafal Don Qdiots In the caitle, or bonaa, of the 
knight of ttie Qnan Rldingnioat ; with other eitnor- 
dinary matten . . X 

Chap. 19.— Wherein lirelatadthaadTsatareaofthe cnamauredihep- 

herd, with other tnily pleaaing inddenla . . 3! 

Ceat. 20. — Qiring an aooouot of the nuuriage of Cunacho the Koh, 

and alio the advacture of Bawliui Uie Poor . . St 

Chap. 21. — In which ie oantinued the history of Camacho'i w«dding, 

with other delightful incidants .. .. ..36 

COAP. 22. — Wherein la relate the grand adrentora of llie oave of 
Mantninoi, lituatadinthsheartofldHBiicha, which 
the caluroue DoQ <^uiiote hnppUT aocomplisbed . . Si 

CbaP. 23. — Of the wonderful things which the aooomplished Don 
Quixote de la Mancha declared he had eeen in the 
oave of Uontcsinoa, from tha eitraordioory nature of 
which, this adTenture is held to be apocryphal . . B^ 

Chap. U. — In which are recounted a tboouind triúing mattera, 
equAlly perÜnent and neoeeiary to the right under. 
■tandjng of tbia grand falMory . . Sf 

CSAP. 2S. — Wbei ein ia b^;<in the bisying idTMiture, and the divert- 
ing one of the puppet-ahow, with the memorable diri- 
nationa of the wonderful npe 3Í 

Chap. 20. — Wherein is oontinued the pleesant adienture of tba pup- 
pet-player, with lundiy other matten, all, in tmth, 
tuffieiently g>ood . . . , 3! 

Chap. ST.- Wherein ¡a related who Hai wem ; 

with Don Quiiate'a Ql-au idren- 

tnre, which termlnalad d nor 

intended . . . . 3! 

ChaF, 29.— Concerning thinga which. Be ladi of 

them wiQ know, il he roai . . il 

Chap. 30.— Of the famoua adventure of tl .. II 

L'haP. 31.— OfwhatbefelDonQuiiD^ew .. 4( 

CtiAF. 32. — Which treeta of manTand great thinga .. .. 41 

CHAP. 83.— Of the answer Don Qujiota gaya to hia reprorer ; wHh 

other grare and pleasing evaila , . . . 41 

Chap. 9i.-0ta¡» naiahkie; oonranaliini «hklL pumai bstweaiUw 
dnebam, har ilinwdi, and Sanoho Faiua ;— noTtb; ta 
__ be nadaod noted .. Pagt i¿ 

Cbat. SS.— Oiving an aaooaot of tlie method pnaoiibad for d 
"'""""p tba peerlen Dnloiim del Toboao : vhii 
line oí (he most Cunoia adveutom in tbia book 

Chap. tA. — Wharela la aontiaiied tlis mmaimt of (ha method pro- 

isribed to Don Quixote br disonohaiidng Jüulcinn ; 

with oUurwondarfUl areote . . 41 

Chap. 37.— Wherein is raoocdad tha «trange and inconoeiTable adno- 

tnra of tíie UI-DMd duenna, or the ooontaa of Triialdi ; 

and likawiie Sanahe Panaa'a letter to hia ifiib To^eaa 

(&AP. 33.— InwhichiioaDtmaedUwfiuDODaadTentaraofÜíaaffllctad 

duenna . . . . 4' 

CSAP. 89. — Which ooDtalaa the aoooimt given b; the afflicted duenna 

of ber midbrtiinM . . 4i 

CBap. 40. — Wherein the doenna Tii&ldi continnea her iti^wndoui 

ud memonbla history . . 1< 

Chap. 41. — Which treala of mattera rehildng uid appartaining to 

Uiia arlventure, and to Uiii memorable hiator? . . 4! 

CSAf. 42.— OfthoarrlTalofClavilena, withtheoaDoluaraofthiipro- 

Ui adventure . . . . 41 

Chap. 43.— Contaiuiog the instmotiolii which Don Quixote save to 

Sancho Pama baTore ha *ent U> hia gorenuneot ; with 

other «elt-considoTad matten . , . . 41 

Chap. M.— Of (be aeoond aariaa of initruoUoDB Don Quixote gave to 

Sancho Pama . . 41 

Chap. 4fi. — HoirSanaliD Puna wasoondooted to bb government, and 

of the Btrange adrennm which belal Don Quixote in 

the castle . . 1< 

Chap. 40. — How IhagreotSanoho Puna tool jwaao^onofhialdand, 

and of Uie mumer of hia boginnuia: to goTEfn it .. 4! 
C&AP. 47.— ^)f the dreadful boll-ringing, a'"^ f^*-"^ nnnat^w^^^if-r^ intt. 

oí Banoho'a behavSour in his 

StjvernnieDi 4Í 

Chap. W.— Of what befel Don Qniiata with Donna Kodrignai, the 
duchees'g dueniia ; together with other incidents wráthy 

rritteauid held in eternal remembrance 
Irafal Sanch 

Chap. GO. — Of what bafal Sancho Pan» in going the round of his 

wlaod i'. 

Chap. 61 .^Which declares wbo were the enahanters and ei 

that»!' ■ ■■ ■ 

Don Í, 

carried Sancbo'a letter i£ 
grtss of Sancho 
ning mattera 

led the a 

le wiled Douna Bodriguai 

UignieUb, Google 


ChaF. 61.~-Of the taUsams and >ad omchniou of 3uiclii) PMiift'i 

goTCRimaiit . . Pag* 614 

CluP. SS. — Wmah. tteaU of matton relaUog to tin* pwUonUr hlMoiy 

■ad to no other . . . . . . SIT 

C'HAF. 6&— Of whmt bebí Suoho ob hii waj ; «nd other milten 

which mil be known vhcD rwd . . S2S 

Chaf. ST.— Of tho predJgioiB end onpenileled battle batwem T>db 

Quixote de k Ifanaho and the laoquey Tosilae, in 
aefbnoe of the doauiB Dcmn» Kodriffuei^ dsu^htor 
Cbap. SB— VhiohralatosbowDonQuixotetooktalileeveofthedDke, 

end of whet betel bini with the witty and w. 

ndora, one of the doeheM'e damtela 
CBAf. BS.— Sbowiiv how adrmtura crowded so bit upon ] 

QniiMe, that they trod apoe each othoT^ heeb 
CSAP. 80. — Whereiii is relatod an extrawdinary aocident which befiil 

Don Quilate, and yñááa. may pew for «a adTeDture 
CSAp. SI.— Of what befel Don Quixote on his way to Bareeloca 
Ctup. ^-^whatbaM Don Quixote at biacDCranca hito Baroaboa, 

with other erenta more tme than ingeniona .. 
Chat. 6S.— VbiohtrsalaoftlieadTentareof theeDohantedhead.witii 

othsr trifling matten that moat Dot be omittad 
)f Sancho Paiua'i mieT'^ » .. a .. . .>i. 

the exttaordlnaij a¿ 
"-■tins of the adraoM 

TsXBtdon than any which had hithaito bsbllen him . 
Cb4P. SS.— In whichanaooauntlagrimnwhaUMkniditof tha White 

CbaP. S5.—TtmÜi« of die adrantBrs which ga*e Don Quixote 

— ^Btdoa than any which had lit'^^'^-' 

JianaooauntlagrimnwhoUM _— . — 

n wax ; and of the deliTeranoe at Don Ongoria 

withothor .. _ 

CUAF. ST. — TreaUuff of matten which he who readi wilt tee, and he 

who uttens to them, when read, will bear . . E' 

Cbap. 68.— Of the TflKiluüon which Don Qidiote took to turn ahep- 

"- ' - " ■ - -■ il life, till the pnmiked term 
a other InddenU truly dirert- 
.7 ..8 

., . IiiiA befal Don Qnixota .. £i 

Cbap. TO.— Of tbe Dew«t and stnuigait adrentora of all that balel 

Don Quixote In the whole eoutae of tbia eieat hiatoiy. . SI 
Chap. T1.— Which trenU of matten indiapenaable to Uie panpicoity 

ofthishiatary .. 
CbaF. T3.— Of whatbefelDon Qdzots and his squir* Sancho 

way to their lill^ 
Cbat. TS. — How Don Quixote and Bancho errlTed at thrir tÍH» 
Cbaf. 71.— Of tbe omeiie which Don Quixote mot with at the ea 

into hia villa^ ; aith other matlara whioh odotn and 

illmtnta this great hiitory 
Cbat. TB.— How Don Qi^xote fill rick, nude his will. 

UignieUb, Google 


WUck tnatt <^ í*í fality a*d maniur tf lift of <mr nHemttd Jmj. 

Bows inavOlege of LiiMuio)u,'the nuae of which I have maátsn 
to recollect, tba« Ibed, tot long ago^ one of thow gentlcraen who 
nsnJallr keep a lanoe upon a nek, an old buckler, a k^ horse, and a 
oonrsing srejhouiid. soup, composed of somewhÁt more mnttou than 
heef, the ^ngmenUKTreJ up cold on moat nighty letitili on Fridays, 
pains and breakings on Saturdays, and a pigeon, b; wa; of addition, 
on SnndaTs, oonsnmed three-fonrtha of hia income ; the remainder of 
it supplies him with a cloak of fine cloth, velvet breechea, with slippew 
o( the same for holidays, and a suit of the best home-spun, in which 
he adomrd himself on week-days. His family consist^ of a house- 
keeper abore forty, *• iiiece not quite twenty, and a lad who serred 
him both in the field and at liome, wlio cooid saddle the bone or 
handle the nnming-book. the age of oar gentleman bordered upon 
fifty yean ; he was of a abrouff constitution, i)nr»todied, of a meagre 
visage, a very eariynaer, and a lover of Uwdiaae. Some prateurto 
say that bis sámame waa Quiuda, <x Qnesada, for on this point his 
historians differ; thongh, irom very probable eomectnres, we may 
conclude that his name was Qoixana. This ia, howcrer, of little 
importance to our history ; let it snffioe that, in reUtdng i^ we do not 
■werre a jot from the truth. 

3e it known, then, that the ifore-mentionBd gentleman, in his 
leinve Tooments, which oompoeed tlie greater iwrt of the fear, gave 
hiiBself up with ao much anionc to the perns^ of books oi chivalrr, 
that he ahnost wbcdly neglected the exercise of the chase, and eren 
the legnlation of his dnneatic afhirs ; indeed, so ertrayaj^t was hia 
seal in this pursuit, that he sold many acres of ar^ie land to purchase 
hodcs ti kmght-eirantrr; ccJkcting as many as be ocnld possibly 
obtain. Amone them aU, none pletñed him so mnch as those wñtt«n 
by the &mons Feliciano de Silra, whose briUisnt prose and intricate 

* l^arUy Id tike Ungdoni of Amgaii,aDd partly in Castüo. 

* A.OOgK 

9 DOS Quixon. 

reMon, that «itii renson I complain of ^onr beautf." Andagwt: 
"The high heavens that» with your divimtv, divine! j fortify jou with 
the Btats, rendering yon meritorious of toe merit merited by yonr 
greatness." These and similar rhapsodiea di^racted the poor gentle- 
man, for he laboured to comprehend and unraTel their meaninj;, whidl 
was more than Aristotle himself oould do, were he to rise niim the 
dead expressly for that j>urpose. He was not quite satisfied as t« the 

face and vhole body must have been covered with seama and si 
Nevertheless, he commended his authnr for cancludbg his book wilji 
the promise of that interminable adventure; and he often felt an 
inclination to seixe the pen himself and conclude it, literallj es it is 
there promised: this he woold donbtless have done, and with success, 
bad lie not been diverted from it by meditations of greater moment, 
on which his mind wu incesaaotly employed. 

He often debated with the curate of the village, a man of learning, 
and a graduate of Siguenza, which of the two was the best knight, 
Palmerin of England, or Amadis deGaul; bat Master Nicholas, barber 
of the sam^^lace, declared tbat none ever came up to the knight of 
the sun: if, mdeed, any one oould be compared to him, it was Doa 
Galaor, brother of Anúdis de Oaul, for he bad a genius suited to 
everythiiw; he was no effeminate knight, no wbimperer, like his bro- 
ther ; and m point of courage, be was oj no means his inferior. In 
short, be becaine bo infatnated with this kind of stndy, that he passed 
whole days and n^hts over these books ; and thus, with little steeping 
and much reading, his brains were dried up, and his intellects dcrangea. 
Uis imagination was full of all tliat he had read; — of enchantment«, 
eontests, batUes, challenges, wounds, courtships, tunours, tortures, 
and impossible absurdities: and so firmly was be persuaded of the 
troth of the whole tissue of visionary fiction that, in his mind, no bis- 
torj ¡Q tiie world «as more authentic. The Cid Ruy Diax, he asserted. 
was a very good knight, but not to be compared wili the knight « 
the flaming sword, who, with a single baok^otroke, cleft asunder two 
fierce and monstrons giants. He was better piensed with Bemudo 
del Carpió, because, at Soncesv^es, he slew Roland the endtanted, 
by availing himself of the strataRem employed by Hercules npon 
AJiteus, whom he squeezed to death within his arms. He spoke very 
&vourah1y of the giant Morganti, for, although of tbat moDstrous 
brood who are always proud and insolent, he alone was courteous and 
well-bred. Above aJl, he admired Rinaldo de Montalvan, particularly 
when he saw him sallying forth from his castle to pinndet allhe 
encountered; and when, moreover, he seiied upon that image of 
Uahooiet which, according to history, was of massive gold. But he 
woilld have given his hous^eeper, and even his niece mtoUte bargain, 
for a fair opportunity of kicking the traitor Galalon. 

Infine.lus judgment being completer obscured, he was seiied with 
one of the strangest fancies that ever enteredtheheadof any madman: 
this was, a belief that it behoved him, as veil for the advancement of 
his glory as the service of bis country, to become a knigbt^errant, and 
tmversethe world, armed and mounted, in quest of adventures, and 
to praclise all that had been performed by Knights-errant, of whom 
he had read ; redressing every species of grievance, and exposing him- 
self to dangers «bicb, being sunnoimted, might secure to him eternal 

HI CHSianxB aa sixm. 8 

im. Tbe poor aentleman iuagiiied himielf at least 
a of Trehisond, bf tbe vaiour gf his ami ; «ud thus 
e agreeable delusions, and borne away by the eitr»- 
V he ibund in theoo, ne baateoed to put tía dengoa 

The ñrst thiu)): he did was to ooonr op some nistf armoar, wtíth 
bad be«D Itis gnÁt-gtaudfatbier's, and had lain many years u^lected 
in a cotner. Tbis be cleaned and adjnstcd as well as he could, oat he 
found one gt^id defect ; the helmet vas incomplete, havioK only the 
BKuioQ: this deficteocf, howerer, he mgenionsly snppUed, by makuig 
a kind of riior of pealéboard, whieb, being fixed to the moñón, gave 
tbe appearance of an entire helmet. It is true indeed tbot, in order 
to pro?e its strengtiL he drer his svord. oiul gave it two strokes, tbe 
inrt of which instauttr demolished the labour of a week ; bnt not alto- 
gether approving of the fadlity with which it was destroyed, and in 
order to seonre himself against a similar misfortune, he made another 
visor, wbieh, having fenced in the inside with small bars of iron, he 
felt assnred of its strength, and, without making any more experi- 
ments, held it to be a most excellent belmet. 

In the next place he visited bis steed ; and althongb tba animal had 
more blemishes than the horse of Gonela, whicb "tantiun pellis tt 
Msa fuit,''ye^ in his t^e^ neither the Bocephalus of Alexander, nor 
the Cid's Babieca, conld be compared with bim. Four davs was he 
deliberating npon what name he should give bim; for, as be Baid to 
himself, it would be very im^xoper that a horse so exc^ent, apper- 
taining to a knight so famona, shonld be without an appropnate name j 
be tb^fore endesvonred to find one that should express what he baa 
beoi before be belonged (o a knigbt-errant, and also what he now 
was : nothing could, indeed, be more reasonable than that, when the 
master changed his state, tl¿ horse should likewise change hie name, 
and aasome one, pompous and high-eounding. as heciune the new 
Older be now professed. 60 after having devised, altered, lengthened, 
curtailed, rejected, ani} again framed in his imaginatúm a variety; of 
names, he finally determined upon Hodnante,* a name, in his opinion, 
lofty, lonorons, and full of meaning; importnig that he had been only 
a fvm, a drudge-bone, b^ore his present condition, and that now he 
was liejort all tne roziiu in the wond. 

Having given bis horse a name so much to his satisfootion, he 
resolved to fix upon oue for himself This consideration employed him 
tight more da; s, wben at Icnglb he determined to call himself Don 
Quixote ; whence some of íúe historianB of this most true history 
lüve concluded that his name was certainly Qnixada, and not Qucsoda, 
as others would have it. Then rcrollectiiw that the valorous Amadis, 
not oantent with tbe sinrple appellation of Amadis, added thereto the 
name of his kinsdoin ana nativo country, in order to render it famous, 
styhng himself Amadis de Qaol : so he, like a rood krdicht, also added 
the tuune of bis province, and called himseu Don Quixote de la 
Uanáia; whereby, in his opinion, he fully proclaimed his lineage and 
country, nhich, at the same time, he honoured by taking its name. 

Uis armour being now furbiabed, his helmet made perfect, bis 

* From iionit, a common dradgA-hnne, and <ui(<, bafbre ; u Atexnnder'B 
bona vaa ealled Bucophalu^ fnaa his boll-head ; and the kniglit of tbe 
laai, Conerio, trum a hunk m the foreh«ad.— >/anú. 

'" A.OOgIC 


hone and bimaelf providíd with turnes, he found notíúng wutting bnt 
ft lady to be in lore vith; for a kniehWrrBJit without the t^der 
ptsaioa VIS a tree witfaoot leaTCa uia fmit — abodyvithont a aouL 
If," said be, " for m; sins, or rather, thnmgk my sood fortune, I 
encounter some giant— an ordinary occurrenee to kñigbts-errant— and 
orerthroiT him at the first onset, or cleare him in twrái, or, in short, 
TOnqaish him and force him to surrender, most 1 not hare some ladj, 
to waom I may send him as a present ? that when he enters into the 

Ereseuee of my diarming mistress, he may throw himself upon bis 
ne«9 before ber, and in a sobmissiTe, humóle voice, say, ' Madam, in 
me you bebdd the giant Caraouliambro, lord of tbe island Malen- 
drania, vho, being vanquished in sii^e combat bv the nevar-enouf h~ 
to-be-praised Bon Qniiote de la Mancha, am by aim commanded to 
present myacif before yon to be disposed of according to the will and 
plessnreof yourbighnesB.'" How happy was our good knight after 
this harangue ! How mnch more so when ho found a mistress I It 
ia said that, in a neighbouring village, a good-looking peasant giri 
resided, of whom he had formerly been enamoured, although it does 
not apnesr that she ever knew or cared about it ; and this was the 
lady wnom he chose to nominate mistress of his heart. He then 
WMght a name for ber, which, without entirely departing from her 
own, should bcline and approach towards that of a princess or great 
lady, and detennined upon Dulcinea del Toboao (for she was a native 
of tJiat Tillage), a name, he thousht^ harmonions, onoonmioa, and 
Etpitasivs— uke all the others which be had adopted. 

cHAFi^a n. 

WUA Irtali 0/ tiefim lull;, UkU Ifm (iwcU modi fivm kimtHitt 

As soon as these arrangements were made, be no ionger deferred 
Uie execution of his mvject, which he hastened from a conaideration 
of what the world siueñd by his delay: so many were the grievances 
he intended to redress, the wrongs to rectify^ error? to amend, abuses 
to reform, and debts to disohiuge I Therefore, without oommunico- 
tiiw his intentions to ai»body, and wholly unobsored, one morning 
beiore day, being one of the most snllry in the month of July, he 
armed himself onp-a-pie, mounted Rotioaute, placed the helmet on 
his head, braced on his target, took his lance, and, through the 
private gale of his back-yard, issued forth into the open plam, in a 
transport of jov to think he had met with no obstacles to the oom- 
mencenient of liis honourable enterprise. But scarce had he (bond 
himaelf onthe plain, when lie was assailed by a recollection so terrible 
aa almost to make him abandon the undertaking; for it just then 
occurred to him that he was not yet dubbeii a knight ; therefore, in 
conformity to the iawsot chivalry, he neither could norou^it to enter 
the lists against any of that onier; and, if he had been «otujly 
dubbed, lie should, as a now knight, have worn white armoui, with- 
out any device on hia ahield, Datil be bad gained one by fbn» of MB». 

niese ooMndeiBUma made Mm iiretohito vhetlier to proeeed; but 
freviy prerailtiiK over renson, be determined to get himself made a 
knight ti;Ü)e first one he should toeet, like m&nj othera, of whom he 
hod read. As to vhite annoiir, he resoLred. when he had an oppor- 
-tnnit;, to acour his own, bo that it shguld be whitec than ermme. 
Having now composed hie mind, be proceeded, lakins whatever road 
hia hanepleaBod: for theieiii, he beheved, oonsisted the tme spirit of 

Oar new adventurer, tlin> pnrsniiw his waj, conversed within 
himself, saying: " Who donbta but that in futnre timps. when the 
bna faistorj of m; ianmm achiereinents b brought to light, the sage 
vho reeoraed ütaa will, in this maimer, describe ra; first saliy ! 
' SoarceJ; had tuMj Phabns extended over the fooe of this wide sad 
spadoos earth the gt^n filaments of his beautiful hair and acuoelr 
had the litUe painted bird9, with their forked toiuniM, hailed, in son 
and raelliftooui hannon; tho (qjpraaoh of tbe rosy harbinger of mora, 
who leaving tiie soft coach of her jeabns consort, bod just disclosea 
herself to mortals tfaroui^h the eates and balconies of the JSlancliegan 
hofúm, when the renowned knight, Don Qniinte de )a Mancha, 
(putting the skithfol down, mounted Kozinanle, hia famous steed, 
proceeded over the ancient memorable plain of Montiel' (which was 
indeed the troth). O happy era, happy ago," he continued, "when 
aj glorióos deeds shail be revealed to the world 1 deeds worthy of 
beinf engraven on brass, sculptured in marble, and reoorded by the 
pencil! And thou, sage enchanter, whosoever thou mayeet be, 
destined to chronicle tíiis extraordinary history! forgi^t not, 1 oeseech 
thee, my ptoA Roranante, the inseparable companion of all m; toils ! " 
Then again, as if really enamonrecl, he exclajmed, " O Dulcinea, my 
nrinoeas ! sovereign of this captive bftart ! «reatly do yoa wrong me 
by a cnie! adherence to your decree, forbidain? me to appear in the 
mesoice of yonr beauty ! Deign, O lady, to think on tins enslaved 
heart, which for love of you, endures so many pan;» 1 " . i 

inthis wihi strain he eontmued, imitating the style of his books as 
nearly as be conid, and proceeding slowly on, while the son arose with 
mxAi mtense heat that it was enough to dissolve his brmns, if any had 
been left. He trarelled almost the whole of that day without encoun- 
tcfing anything wortbv of recital, which caused him much vexation, 
&r he was impatient ^ an opportunity to prove the valour of hia 

Some antbora say bis trst adventnre was that of the straits of 
Lapice: others iffirm it to have been that of the windmills! bat, 
&01U what I have been able to ascertain of this matter, and have 
found written in the annals of La Mancha, the fact is that he travelled 
ill that day, and as nizht approached, both he and his hoi«e were 
wearied and dying with hunger ; and in this state, as he looked around 
him, in hopes of discovering some castle, or shepherd's cot, where he ' 
mi^t niptwe and find reireahment, he descried, not lar from the road, 
an nm, wlqph to him was a star conducting him to the portals, if not 
tbe palace of his redemption. He made all the haate be could, and 
teaeiied it at night-fall. There chanced to stand at the door two 
Toang women, ladies of pleasure (as they are called), on their journey 
to Betille, in the oompany of some carriers who rested there that 
nifit Now as everything that oni adventurer saw and_ conoaived 
«■% by hia imagÍBation, monlded to what he had read, so in his ey« 


casÜCj with its fnni tun«ta, and pinnacles of 
a^u^g an.-,, bUBEiiiEi wilh its drswbrid^e, deep moat, and all the 
appurtenances nith wbtch such castlea are usually described. When 
be nad adrauced vithin a short distance of it, iie checked Rorinante, 
especting some dwarf would mount the battlements, to announce by 
sound of tnmipet, lie arrival of a luiight-errant at the caalle; but 
finding them tardy, and Rozinante impatient for the stable, ho 
approached the inn-door, and tliere saw the two strolling- ;prirls, who to 
huD alipeared to be beautiful damsels or lorely davies e^oying tbem- 
_.!_._ C.Í.. . .1.. '^of ^g¡r castle. 

field, blew the hora which assembles thera together, and instantly Don 
Quixote was satisfied, for he imagined it was a dwarf who had gÍTen 
the signal of hi» arriTal. With extraordinary satisfactioQ, therefore, 
he went up to the bn ; upon «hieli the ladies, being startled at tiie 
s^ht of a man armed in that manner, with lance and buckler, were 
retreating iota the bouse ; but Don Qnixote, j)erccirins their alarm, 
raised his pasteboard viior, thereby partly discovering his meagre, 
dusty visage, and with gentle demeanour and placid voice, thus 
addressed them ; " Fly not, ladies, nor fear any discourtesy, for it 
would be wholly inoonsistent with the order of knighthood, which I 
profesa, to ofier insult to any person, mnch less to virions of that 
exalted rank which yonr appearance indicates," The girls stared at 
him, and were endeavouring to find out his face, which was almost 
concealed by the sorry vizor; but hearing themselves called virgins, a 
thing so much out of the way of their profession, they could not for- 
bear laughing, and to siich a degree, that Don Ouixote wa; displeased, 
and said to them : " Modesty well becomes Maaty, and excessive 
laughter, proceeding from a slight cause, is folly ; but I say not this 
to humble or distress you, for my inrt is no other than to do you ser- 
rice." This language, so unintelligible to the ladies, added to the 
tmcouth figure of our knigtit, increased their laughter ; consequently 
he grew more indignant, and would have proceeded further, but for 
ikeeper, a very corpulent, and there- 
pqn seeing so ludicrous an object, 
o ill'Sortea as were the bridle, lance, 
id to join the damsels in demonstra- 
prehending some danger from a form 
;d to behave with civility, and there- 
are seekiuft for a lodging, you will 
.■_ ''-*---ui),ever)thingin 

, J ' ■' 

. thm? will suffice : 
'ornaments, warfare my repose." The host thought he called him 
Castellano because he took him for a sound Castilian, whereas he 
was an AudaJusian, of the coast of St. Lucar, as gr^t a thief 
aa Cacus, and not less mischievous than a collegian or a page: 
and he replied, " If so, your worship's beds must be hard rocks, 
and your aleep continual watching; and that being the case, yon 
may dismount with a certainty of finding here sufficient cause for 
keeping awake the whole year, much mofe a single nij[ht." So say- 
ing, he kid hohi of Don Quixote's stimip, who alighted with much 

' ' A.OOgIC 

icvxsnmB at thz ran. 7 

difiicultr sai pain, for he hod futed the whole of the day. He then 
desired the boat to take esiieciiJ care of hia steed, for it was the 
finest creatoie that erer fed- the innkeeper examined him. bat 
thought him not bo good by half as his master had represeutea him. 
HaTing led the horae to tba stable, he returned to ceceiTC the orden 
of hia ^est, «hom the damsels, being now reconciled to Ritn, were 
disarming; they had taken off the back and breast plates, but 
endeavonred in vain to disengafie the gorget, or take off the counter- 
feit beaver, which he had fastened vitii green ribbons in such a 
manner that they could not be untied, and he would upon no account 
allow them tbem to be cnt; therefore he remained all that night 
with hit helmet on, the strangest and moat tidicalona figure 

Whiie these light girls, whom he still conceived to bo persons of 
quality, and ladies of the castle, were disarming him, be said <« tbeni, 
with infinite grace, " Never before was knight so honoured by ladies 
ae Don Quixote, after his departure from his native village ! damsels 
attended apon nim : princesses took charge oí liis steed ! O Roci- 
nante,— for that, ladies, is the name of my horae, and Don Quixote 
de la Mancha oiy own; although it was not my intention to liave 
discovered myself, until deeda, performed in your service, should liave 
proclaim^ me ; hut impelled to make so just an application of tliat 
ancient romance of Lanzarutc, to my present situation, I luve thus 
prematurely disclosed my uatne : yet the time shall come when your 
ladi'ships may command, and I obey ; when the valour of my ami 
shall make maaifest the desire I have to serve you." The girls, un- 
accustomed to such rhetorical nourishes, made no reply, hut asked 
whether he wouldpteaaetoeat anything. "1 shall willingly take soma 
food." answered Don Quixote, foe I apprehend it would be of 
maeo service to me." That day nappened to oe Friday, and there was 
nothing in the house bu^ some iisH, of that kind which in Castile is 
caUed ¿hadezo; in Andalnsia, Eacallaoi in some parts. Curadillo; 
and in others, Truchuela. They asked if nis worship woiud like some 
trudiueU, for they had no other Ssh to offer him. If there be many 
troutliius," replied Don Quixote, " they will supply the place of one 
trout ; for it is the same to me whether I receive eight single rials or 
one ptece-of-cight. Moreover, these troutlinj ' irable, as 

veal is better than beef, and kid superior to ^ s it may, 

let it come immediately, for the tod and wei innot be 

sustained by the body uiilesa the interior be si iments." 

Tor the benefit of the cool air, they placed tl i door of 

the ion, and the landlord produced some of h d worse- 

cooked bacallao, with bread as foul and black i armour : 

but it was a spectacle highly risible to see 1 is hands 

being engaged in holding his helmet on, and husiuh lud msaver, he 
could not feed himself, therefore one of tbe ladies performed this 
office for him ; but to ¿rink would have been utterly impossible, had 
not the innkeeper bored a reed, and, placing one end into his moutk 
at the other poured in the wine ; and all tnia he patiently endured 
ntber thou out the lacings of his helmet. 

^ tbe mean time there came to the inn a sow -doctor, who, as soon 
be arrived, blew his pipe of reeds four or five times, which finally oou- 
rinoed Don Quixote that he was now in some famous csatle, where 
lie wo* i^aled with music ; that the poor jack was trout, the bread 

8 DON Quixon. 

of die purest white, the strollmg wenches ladies of distivptini, ttaA 

the innkeeper governor of the castle ; conseqaentlj he remwned satÍB- 
fied with his enterprise and first sally, thongh it troubled him to 
refiect that he waa not jet a knight, feeling peranaded that be coold 
not lawfojlf engage in an; adveiSnTe nntil oe bod been invested wwt 
the Older ÓF biigh thood. 

AsiTATED b; this idea, he abraptlv finished his scant; sapper, called 

the innkeeper, and, shutting himself op with him in the staJ>le, ha 
fell on his knees before him and said, Never will I arise from this 
place, Talorous knight, nntil your courtesy shall vouehaafe to grant a 
boon which it is my intention to request : a buon that will redound 
to your glory, and to the benefit of all manldnd." The innkeeper, 
seeing his gueet at his feet, and hearing such language, stood con- 
founded, and stared at him, without knowing what to do or say ; he 
entreated him to rise, bat in rain, until he had promised to grant the 
boon he requested. " I expected no less, signor, from your great 
magnificence," replied Don Quiiote; "know, therefore, tiiat the 
boon I have demanded, and wliich yonr liberality haa conceded, is 
that, on the morrow, you will confer upon me the honour of knight- 
hood. Thia night I vill watob my arma in the chapel of your castl^ 
in order that, in the morning, my earnest desire may be fulfilled, and 
I may with propriety traverse the four jiuarters of the world, in quest 
of aaventures, for the relief of the distressed ; conformable to the 
daties of ciiivalry and of knighta-errant, who, like myself, are devoted 
to such pursuits." 

The host, who, as we have said, was a shrewd fellow, and' bad 
already cntortained some doubts respecting the wits of his guest, was 
now confirmed in his suspicions ; and, to make sport for the night, 
detwmined to follow his humonr. He told him therefore that his 
desire was ver^ reasonable, and that such pursuits were natural and 
soitable to knights so illustrious as be ftppeared to be, and as his 

Cmt demeanour fully testified ; that he had himself in the days of 
youth followed that honourable profession, and travelled over 
various parts of the world in search of adventures ; failiofc not to visit 
the suburbs of Malaga, the isles of Itiamn, the com^iasa of Seville, the 
market-placo of Segovia, the olive-field of Valencia, the rondilla of 
Grenada, the coast of St. Lucar, the fountain of Cordova, the taverns 
of Toledo, and divers other parte, where he had eiereiaed the agihty 
of his heels and the deiteritv of his hands ; committing sundiy 
wrongs, soliciting widows, sedudng damsels, cheating youths ; in 
short, making himself known to most of the tribuaals in Spain ; and 
that nuaUy he had retired to this castle, where be lived upon his 
revenue and that of others ; entertaining tocrein all knights-errant of 
every quH^ and degree, solely for the great affection he bore them, 



uá that they might abare their fortime with Lim, iu return for his 
good win. He further told him that in hU CAstle there was no chapel 
vhenán he could wateh his armoar, for it had beca pulled down, in 
Mder to be rebuilt ; bat that, in casca oí neocssit;, be knew it might 
be done wherever he pleased ; therefore he might vatch it thai night 
m a conrt of the castfej and the following morning, if it pleased Gfod, 
the Teqoisite ceremonies should be performed, and he should be 
' dubbed so eSectuallf, that the world would not be able to produce a 
more perfect knight. lie then inquired if bo bad an; money about 
him F Don Qaiiotc told him be had none ; having never read m tbeir 
histories that knights-errant provided themselves with money. Tlis 
innkeeper assured bim be was Toistalcec, for, admitting that it was 
not mentioned in their history, the authors deeming it unnccesuir to 
specify things so obviously rciiuisite as money and citan shirts, yet 
was it not, therefore, to be inferred that they had none ; but, on 
tbe contrary, be might consider it as an catablished fact that all 
knights-errant, of whose histórica bo many volumes are filled, carried 
tbejr purses well provided against accidents ; that they were also 
ittpplied with shiru, and a small casket of ointments, to heal tha 
wounds they might receive; for in plains and deserts, where tbef 
fought and were wounded, no aid was near, nnleaa tbey had some 
aage eocbanter for tbtúr friend, who could give them iromediate 
assutance,' ' ' cloud through, tbe air some damsel or 

dwarf, wilD possessed of such virtue that, upon 

tasting a si] 7 should instantly become as sound as 

if tbe; had But when the knights of former times 

were witho e; always took care that tbeir esquires 

ihould be ] ey, and such necessary articles as lint 

and salves : id no esquires, which very rarely hap- 

pened, they S themselves, upon the crupporoftheir 

horse, in wi to be scarcely visible, that thev might 

Bcem to be _ importance ; for, except in such casea, 

the custom of carrying wallets was not tolerated among knkbts- 
errant. He therefore advised, though, as bis godson (which he 
was soon to be), he might command him, never henceforth to 
travel without money and the aforesaid provisions ; and he would 
¿id them serviceable when be least expected it. Don Quiiole pro- 
mised to follow bis advice with pnnctuality ; and an order was now 
piven for performing tbe watch of the armour, in a large yard adjoin- 
ing- the inn. Don Quixote, having collected it together, placed it oa 
a cistern which was close to a well ; then, bracing on his target and 

Euping his lance, with graceful demeanour, be paced to and fro. 
Fore the pile, banning his parade as soon as it was dark. 
Tbe innkeeper informed all who were in the inn of tie frenzy of his 
guest, tbe w»«hiiig of bis armour, and of the intended knighting. 
I3¡ev were aiirprised at so singular a kind of madness, and went out 
to oliserve him at a distance. They perceived him sometimes quietly 

esing along, and sometimes leaning upon bis lance with his eyea 
eá upon Els armour^ for a considerable time. It was now night, 
but the moon shone vnth a splendour which might vie even with that 
whence it was borrowed; so that every motion of our new knight 
might be distinctly seen. 

^it thii time^ it happened that one of the carriera wanted to give 
iia mides some iraterj for which purpose it was necessary to remove 

10 DOK qmxcm. 

Don Quiiote's aimonr from the cistern ; «ho seeing bim adTance, 
eicUimed with a load voice, " thon, whosoeTer thou art, rash 
knight I vho approachest the armonr of the inost valiant adventurer 
that ever girdral BwonL beirare of what tbon dost, and touch it not, 
unless thou wouldat yitld thy life as the forfeit of thy temeñty." The 
carrier heeded not this admonition (though better would it have been 
for him if be had), but, seizing hold of tbe straps, he threw the armour 
some distance from him ; whiith Don Quixote perceiving, he raised his 

Sea to heaven, and addressbg his thoughts, noparently, to hi» ladr 
ttlcinea, said ; "Assist me, lad/, to avenge this first insult offered 
to jour vBssal'B breast ; nor let vour favoor and protection fail me in 
this Gist perilous encounter." ILiviuf; uttered these and similar ejaca- 
lations, he let shp his tai^, and, raising his lance with both hands, 
he gave the earner snch a stroke upon the head that he fell to the 
nound in so grievous a plight tha^ had the stroke been repeatc^ 

-is anno 

Soon after, another carrier, not knowing what had jtassed, for the 
first yet laj stunned, came out with the same int«iition of watering 
his moles ; and, as he ^proached to take away tbe armonr from the 
dstem, Don Quixote, without saying a word or imploring any nro- 
tectionl again let slip his target, raised his lanoe, and, with no less 
effect toan before, smote the Head of the second carrier. The noise 
brought out all the people in the inn, and the landlord among the 
test: upon which Don Quixote braced on his target, and laving his 
band upon bis sword, sold : " lady of beauty ! strength and visour 
of my enfeebled heart ! Now is the time for thee to turn thy illns- 
trions eyes upon this thy captive knight, whom so mighty an encounter 
awaits !'' This address had he conceived, animated him with so 
tnuoh courage that, were all the carriers in the world to have assailed 
him. he would not have retreated one step. 

Ine comrades of tlie wounded, upon discovering the situation of 
their friends, began at a distance to discfaai^ a shower of stones 
upon Cion Quixote, who sheltered himself as well as he eould with 
his target, without daniw to quit the cistern, becaose be would not 
abandon his armour. The innkeeper called aloud to them, b^ging 
they would desist, for he had already told them he was insane, and 
that, as a madman, he would be acquitted^ though he were to kill 
them all. Don Quixote, in a voice still louder, called them infamous 
traitor», and the lord of the castle a oowardly, base-born knight, for 
allowing knights-errant to be treated in that manner ; declariiig that, 
had he received tbe order of knighthood, he would have made him 
sensible of his perfidy. " But as for you, ye vile and worthless 
rabble, I utterly despise ye I Advance ! Come on, moiest me as far 
as ye are able, for auickiy shall ve receive the reward of your folly 
and insolence ! " Tbis be uttered with so much spirit and intrepidity 
that tbe assiuknts were struck with terror; wiiich, in addition to the 
landlord's persuasions, made them ceaw their attack ; he then per- 
mitted the wonnded to be carried ofi', and, with the same gravity and 
oomposure, resumed the watch of bis armour. 

The host, not relishing these pranks of his guest, determined to 
put an end to them, before any further mischief ensued, by imme- 
di^ely investing liim with tbe luckless order of chirtdry : approtait- 


ag bim, therefore, he disdumed an^ eoDcnrrence, on his part, m the 
insolent conduct of those low people, nho were, he observed, well 
diAStised for their presumption. Be repeated to him that there was 
no chapel in the castle, cor wai it by asa means necessarj for what 
remained to be done ; that the itroke of knightiug consisted in blows 
on the neck and shoiilders, accordinit to the ceremonial of the order, 
which might be effectuallj performed in the middle of a field ; that 
tiie duty of watching his armour he had now completely fulfilled, for 
he had watched more than four houn, though only two were rc- 
qoired. AU this Dun Qoiiote beliered, and said that he was there 
ready to obey him, requesting him, U the same time, to perform the 
deed as soon as possible; because, should he bt assaulted a^n when 
he found himseu knighted, he was resolved not to leave one persoit 
alive in the castle, exoeptinj;thoBewhoro, out ofrespect to him, and at 
his particular request, he might be induced to spare. The constable, 
thus vaeoed and alarmed, immediately brought forth ■ book in which 
he kept bis acoooitt of the atraw and oats he furnished to the earners, 
and, attended by a boy, who carried an end of candle, and the two 
damsels before mentioned, went towards Don Quixote, whom he com- 
manded to kneel down ; he then began reading in his manual, as if it 
were some devout pniyer, in the course of which he raised his hand and 
gKve him a good blow on the neck, and, after that, a handsome stroke 
over the shoulders, with his own sword, still muttering between his 
teeUi, as if in prayer. This being done, he commanded one of the 
ladies to gird on his sword, an office she performed with much 
alacritv as well aa discretion, no small portion of which was necessary 
to Bvoid bursting with laughter at every part of the ceremony; but 
indeed the prowess they had seen displayed hj the new knigfat kept 
their mirtb within bounds. At girding on the sword, the good lady 
■aid: " (Sod grant you may be a fortúnate knight and successful in 
battle." Bon Quixote inquired her name, that he might thencefor- 
ward know to whom he was bdebted for the favour reoeived, as it 
was his intention to bestow upon her some share of the honour he 
should acouire by the v^our of his arm. ííhe replied, with much 
homiiity, that her name was Tolosa, and that she was the daughter of 
a cobbler at Toledo, who Uved at the stalls of Sancbobienaja ; and that, 
wheKVer she was, she wonld serve and honour him as ber lord. Don 
Qoixote, in reply, requested her, for his sake, to do him the favour 
beneefortit to ada to her name the title of don, and call herself Donna 
Toloa», which she promised t^ do. The other girl now buckled on 
bis spur, and with her he held nearlv the same conference as with 
the udf f¿ the sword ; having inqnired her name, she told hini it was 
"" 1 .1 . 1 , ,. . I . illerof Anti " 

, . .^, _ ^ _d thanks. 

These neveT'till-theD-seeu ceremonies being thus speedily performed 
Don Quixote was impatient to find himself on horseback, m quest of 
tdventures. He therefore instantly saddled Soiinante, mounted him, 
and, emhraoing his host, made his acknowledgments for the favour he 
had conferred oy knighting him, in terms so extraordinary, that it 
would be in vain to attempt to repeat them. The host, in order to 
get lid of him the sooner, repliao, with no leas flourish, but p)Of| 
brevity ; and, without making any demand for bis lodging, wished 
him A good jonraej. 


0/ iBhat Sí/tí owr ¡night after he had toUied from Ott «tiu 

JOTtnereof almost burnt És horse's girths. But recollecting- the 
advice of hia host concerning the neceaaarv proTisiona for his under- 
taking, especiilly the articles of monej and clean shirts, he resolTcd to 
retumbóme, and fitmish himself accordinijlr, and also proTÍde himself 
with a Siimre, jjurposinft to take into hia service a certain country 
fellow of tke neighbourhood, who wna poor, and had children, jet was 
TCirfit for the sciuirelj ofBce of chivjiy. With this determination 
he mmed Roninante towards his TÜlage ; and the steed, as if aware of 
his master's intention, began to put on with so much alacrity that h» 
hardljseemedtoset hia feet to the ground. Heh»dnot,howcTer,gono 
fer. when, on his right hand, from athickct hard by, he fancied he heard 
feenle cries, as from some peraon coinplninine. And scarcely had he 
heard it when he said, " I thank Heaven for the favour it does me, by 
ofTorin^ me so early an opportunity of coiflpljing with the duty of my 
profession, and of reaping the fniit of my nononrable desires. Thesa 
are, doubtless, the erica of some distressed person, who stands in need 
of my protection and assistance." Then, turning the reins, he guided 
Roziuante towards the placa whence he thought the cries proceeded, 
and he had entered but a few paces into the wood, when lie saw n 
mare tied to an oA, and a lad to another, naked from the wfdst 
Tipwaids, about fifteen years of we, who was the person that cried 
out ; and not without cause, for a lusty country fellow waa laying on 
him Tcry severely with a belt, and accompanied every lash with a 
reprimand and a word of advice ; for. said he^ " The tflugue slow and 
the eyee quick." The boy answered, "I will do so no more, dear 
Hir ; by the passion of God, I will never do so again ; and I promise 
for the future to take more care of the fiock." 

Don Quiiote, observing what passed, now called ont in an UigTT 
tone, " Discourteous kniijht, it ill becomes thee to deal thus with one 
who is not able to defend himself Get upon thy horse, and take thy 
lance " (for he bad also a lance leaning against the oak, to which the 
mare was fastened), " and 1 will make tbee sensible of thy dastardly 
conduct." The countiyman, seeii^ such a fiiure coming towards 
him, armed (rom head to foot, and Brandishing his lanee at his face, 
rave himself up for a dead man, and therefore hnmhly answered; 
Signor cavalier, this lad I am chastising is a serrant of mine, whom 
I employ to tend a flock of sheep which I have hereabouts ; but he is 
w careless that I lose one every day ; and beoaase I correct him for 
his negligence, or roguery, he says I do it out of covetousness, and 
for an eicuse not to pav him his wages; but before God, and on my 
conscience, he lies." Dar'st thou say so inmypresence.TÜenistJoP^ 
•aid Don Qoiiote. "By the sun thrt shines uoou us, I have a good 
mind to run tiiee through with this buce I Pa; him immediately, 
, , . .A.OOgIC 


«itfaontfnrtlierrtplj; if not, bjtheGod tbat rulesiia,Iinll de^atiA 
■nd anmhÜBte tbee m ft moment! Cnbmd him ¡natanüy!" The 
taaattymttii hnug down his head «ad, without replj, untied hia boy. 
Bon Qoiiote tiien asked the lad bov much liii muür owed him, and 
be anawered, nine months' waees, ftt seTen reals a month. Don 
Quixote, on calculation, found that it amounted to siit;-thre« reals, 
üd desired the countiyman inatantlT to disburse tbem, unless he 
meant to pa; it with hig life. The fellow, in a ñ^sht, answered that, 
on the word of a dfinK man, and npoa the oath he bad taken (thoogn 
b; the way he bad takcm no oath), it «a* not so much ; for be mnst 
ieduct the price of Üiree pair of shoes he had gifen him on account, 
■nd a real for two bloodlettings when be was sick. " All this ia 
Tei7 right," said DonQuiiote; "but set the shoes and the blood- 
lettiaga añinst the stripes thou hast given him unjustljr ; for if he 
toe the leather ' ' thou bast torn his skin: and if th« 

barber-surgeon i am him when be was sick, thou bast 

dnwn Uood fro; e is well; so that upon these accounts 

he owes tbee n le misduef is, signor cavalier," quoth 

tfae countryman, no money about me : but let Andres 

go home with mi ly him all, real by reaL" " I eo horna 

'with him !" salt le devil a bit ! no, air, I will do no 

such thing; for le alone, he will flav me like any Saint 

Bartholomew." t do ao," replied Don Quixote ¡ "to 

keep him in awl it that I lay my oommsjiaá upon him ¡ 

au(£ on conditio! me, by the order of knighthood which 

be has received, ! go free, and will be bound far the pay- 
ment." "Good sir, think of what you say," quoth the bov¡ "for m^ 
master is no knight, nor ever received any order of knightbood: he is 
John Aldudo. the nch, of the neighbourhood of Quintanar." That 
is little to the purpose" answered Don Quixote; "there maybe 
knúhts of the family of the Aldudos : more especially as every man 
is We sou of his own works," " That's true," quoth Andres ; " but 
what works is m j master the son of, who refuses me the wages of my 
•weat and labour ?" " I do not refuse tbee, friend Andres," replied 
theoDuntirman; "have the kindness to go with me: and I swear, by 
all the onkn of knighthood that are in the world, I will pay thee 
cvei^ real down, and perfnmed' into the bargain." "For the per- 
fnmmc. I thank thee, said Don Quixote : " give him the reals, and 
I shall be satisfied : and see that thou failcat not : or else, by the same 
oatb, I swear to return and chastise thee ; nor shslt thou escape me, 
though tliou wert to conceal thyself closer than a lizard. And if thou 
wouBst be informed who it is thus commands, that thou mayest feel 
tíie more strict^ bound tfl perform thy promise, know that I am the 
VsloroQs Don Quixote de h Mancha, the rcdrésser of wrongs and 
abuses; so farewell, and do not forget what thou hast promised and 
~ ~ , oa pain of the penalty I bare denounced." So Baying, he 

d spurs to Uonnaute. and was soon far off. 

countryman eagerly followed him with his eyes ; and, when he 
saw him quite out of tlie wood, be turned to his lad Andres, and 
said : " Come hither, child, I wish now to pay what I owe thee, as 
that rcdresser of 'wrongs commanded." "So you shall, I swear," 
qnoth Aadree; "aad you vrilt do well to obey tlie orders of that 

* A ^laiiúlk pbiaoe G» paying or ratoming anything with cdvantags, 


cl^iped B] 

14 DON qnnon. 

honeat gentleman (whom God grant bo live a thonsand jenra !), who 
Ú 30 brave a man, and bo just a judge, that, e?ad, if }'ou do not par 
me, he will come back and do what he baa threatened." "And I 
swear so too," quoth the countryman ; "and to show how much I 
love thee, I am resolved to augment the debt, that I mat add to the 
payment." Then, taking him oy the aim, he again tied him to the 
tree, where he gave him so many stripes, that he left him for dead. 
" Now," said he, " Master Andres, call upon that redreaaer of wrongs ; 
tboa wih find he will not easily redress this : tbougb I believe 1 have 
not quite done with thee yet, for I have a good mind to flav thee 
alive, aa thou gaidat just now." At lem^h, however, he untied him, 
and gave him leave to go in quest of liig jodge, to execute the 
thiealened sentenoe. Andres went away in dudgeon, swearing he 
would find oat the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha, ani( tell him 
all that had passed, and that he should pay for it seveufold. Never- 
theless, he departed in tears, leaving his master laughing at him. 

Thus did the valorous Don Quixot« redress tbis wrong ; and, elated 
at so fortunate and glorious a beginning to his knight .errantry, he 
went on toward his village, entirely satisfied with himself, and sayiiw 
in a bw voice : " Well mayst tliou deem thyself happy above all 
women hving on the earth, O Dulcinea del Toboso, b^iuteous abov« 
the most beautiful ! since it has been thy lot to have subject and 
obedient to thy whole will and pleasure so raiiant and renowned a iuiight 
as b and ever shall be Doc Quixote dc la Mancha I who, as all the world 
knows, received but yealernay the order of knighthood, and to^iay has 
redressed thegreat£st injury and grievance that injustice couldinvenl^ 
and cruelty commit I to-day hath he wrested the scourge out of the 
hand of that pitiless enemy, by whom a tender stripling was so no- 
deservedly lashed ! " 

lie now came to the toad, which branched out in four different 
directions ; when immediately those cross-ways presented themselvea 
to his imiwnation where knights-errant usually stop to consider 
which of the roads thev shall take. Here, then, following theii 
example, he paused awhile, and, after mature consideration, let go IJu) 
reins; submitting his own will to that of his horse, who, following 
his first motion, took the direct road towards his stable. Hatinc; 

r--r—, — , — - ,- —- cj- - — , , - -jledo, 

joing to buy silks in Murcia, There were six of them in number; 
they carried umbreUns, and were attended by four servants on horso- 
bacV, and tbiee muleteers on foot. Scarcely had Don Quixote espied 
them, when he imagined it must be some new adveuture: aniC to 
imitate as nearlv as possible what he had read in his books, as he 
fancied this to oe cut out on purpose for him to achieve, with a 
graceful deportment and intrepid air, he settled himself finniy in his 
stirrups, grasped his lance, covered his breast with his tai^t, and, 
posting Iiunself in the midst of the highway, awaited the approach u 
Uiose whom be already judged to be Knighls-erraiit ; and when tiiey 
were come so near as to be seen and heard, lie raised his voice, had, 
with an arro|,-Bnt tone, cried out ; "Let the whole world sland, if the 
whole world docs not confess that there is not in the whole world a 
damsel more beautiful than the empress of La Mancha, the peerless 
Dulcbea del Toboso ! " The merchants stopped at the sound of ihese 
words, and also to behoM the strange %ure of hi» who pronounced 


meant vhicbhe required; and therefore one of tbem, who wu 

somewhat of a. wag, hot withal very discreet, said to him ;— " Signor 
0»»»Uer, we do not know who this good lady you mention may bo : 
Jet Ds but see her, and if she be really so b^alifol as you intimate, 
ve will, with all om hearts, and withont any constraint, make the 
confession yon demand of us." " Should I show her to you," replied 
Don Qaitote, "where would be the nierit of cnnfeasing a trath bo 
manifest f It ú esaential that, without seeing her, vou believe, eon- 
Ins, affirm, swear, and maintam it ; and, if not, I challeage yon all to 
battle, inoud and monstrous as yon are : and, whether you come on 
one by one (as the laws of chivalry require), or all together, as is the 
custom and wicked practice c¿ thoae of your stamp, here I wait for 
jaa. ctmñding in tLe iustice of my cause." "Signor cavalier," 
lepUed the meiefaant, I beseech yonr worship, in the name of all 
the princes here present, that we may not lay a burden upon our con- 
tcienoes, by coniessii^ a thing we never saw or heard, and, especially, 
being so mncb to the pr^vdice of the empresses and qneenswAlcar- 
tia nd EsCieai&dDra, that yoni worship would be pleased to show ns 
Bmne pictare QÍ this lady, tooo^ no bi^er than a barleycorn, for we 
shall guess at the dne by the thread ; and therewith we shall rest 
satisfied and safe, and your worship contented and pleased. Nay, Z 
TCiilj believe we are so far inclined to your side that, although tier 
fsctore should represent her soninting with one eya and distilling 
nnnilion and brimstone from the other, notwithstanding oU this, to 
oUige jon, we will say whatever you please in her fnvonr." " There 
difUsnot, b" 1—1" J r,— -1-^-.- L — ■ u,. 

nS c 

not, base scoundrels," answered Don (Jurtote, burning with 
, there distils not from her what you say, but rather ambetíTÍa 
diet among cotton ; neither doth she squint, nor is she hunch- 
rM4 hnt nnKtmucht AAftflninHli> of (riiJidArrHniA'* but voir Rh&ll nav 

far the horrid blasphemjr vou have Uttered against ,- 

beauty I" 3o saying, witb his lanoe couched, he ran at him who had 
spoken with so mu<£ fury and rage that, if good fortune had not so 
(«dered that BoEinante stambted and fell in the niidst of his carcef» 
it had gone hard with the rush merchant. Ruzinante fell, and lus 
master bif roiling about the fiehl for some time, endeavouring to rise. 
Ixit in vmn ; so encnmbcred was he with his lanoe, target, spurs ana 
helmet, added to the weight of his antiquated armour. And while he 
was thus stntgcling to get np, he continued callinfc out ; — " i'lv not, 
TB dastardly rabble ; stay, ye race of slaves ; for it is through my 
DHse's fault, and not my own, that I lie here eitended." A muleteer 
of the companv, not over good-natured, hearing the arrtMfant ianguajte 
of the poor fallen gentleman, could not bear it without retumbg him 
SB answer on his ribs ; and coming to him, he took the lance, which 
having bniken to pieces, he applied one of the splinters with so much 
aiility upon Don Quiiote, that, in spite of his armour, be was threshed 
I't SvJi'- "-- -- ' *'-J * J '-— k:-~ *- r„_i..K__. I — * ii.« 

lad was 
spent the 

* A miall town i^e teagnss from Madrid, «Knatsd at tha fc 
moODtahi, the rooks ot which are so perpandioukr Ukat they an 
""■' ""inillnT " Near it stands the EaouriaL — Janit, 

:e wheat. Bis masters called out, desiring him to forbear ; but the 

ncTer shut hjs moath, incetsantlv tbreateninB heaven and earth, uo 
those who to him Rppe&red to be BMussiua, &t lenfth the fellow 

s tired, and the merchants departed, miffloientlf luroished with 

tier of discourae concerning the poor bekbonred kniaht, whc 

when he found himself alone, again endeavoured to risej out, if h 

matter of discourae concerning tlie poor bekbonred Icnigli 
■ ' ' * ' ' ' " ' 'i endeavoured to rise; oi 

I, how should be in so brui 
consoled in looking upon I 

it; and impatiue uie cJaiu 

p vu imposñb^ tus whole bodf 

could not do it when sound and well, how should be in so bruised aL .. 
battered a cocditiou P Yet he was consoled in looking upon this as a 
nusfortnne peculiar to kniehts-emuit ; and impatiue uie cJame to his 
horse : olthou^ to raiM nimself up v ' '' ' ' ■ ' ■ ' 

la 10 boiriblf braised. 

WluTti* ii antiniud IÍ4 uarraiioK qf our ¿BvAi'i nif/ixAiM. 

Yekt full of pain, ^et soonashew&a able to stir, Don Quiio4« had 
recouTBe to his usual remedy, «hich was to recollect some incident in 
hia books, and hia freuzt inatantlj suggested to him that of Valdo- 
TÍnos and the marquis of Mantua, when Carloto left him wounded on 
the mountain : a story faimliar to children, uot unknown to youth, 
oomnoended and even credited b/ old men; jet no more true than the 
miiaclea of Maliomet. Now this seemed to him exactly suited ta his 
case ; therefore he began to roll himself on the ground, and to repeat, 
in a faint voice, what they affirm was said by the wounded knigbt of 
the wood: — 

Of tlioa art fUsa and pitÜMS." 

In tiiis manner he went on with the romance, nntil he oame to those 
Terses where it is said: — "O noble marquis of Mantoa, mjr uncle mid 
lord by blood ! "—just at that instant it so happened that a peasant of 
bis own Tillage, a near neighboor, who had been canying a load of 
wheat to the mill, paaaed by : and, seeing a man lyii^ stretdied on 
the earth, he came up, and asked him who he was, and what was the 
cause of hia doleful lamentations ? Bon Quiiote ¿rmlj believbg him 
to be the marnuis of Mantua his uncle, returned him no answer, but 
proceeded with the romance, giving an acoount of his miafortuae. and 
of the amours of the emperor's son with his spouse, just as it is there 
recounted. The peasant was astonished at his extravagant discourse : 
and taking off his Tizor, now battered nil to pieces, he wiped the dust 
from his lace- upon waiob he recomised bun, and eiclaimed, "Ah, 
Signer QnixBOa (for so he was caDed before he hall lost tiis senses, 
and was transformed from a sober eentleman to a knight.erTant}, 
"bow came your worship in thisoon(^tionF" But still he uswered 
out of hb romance to whatever question he wu asked. 

The good man, seciiig thii, costriied to Ulu off Ihs ha^ and 



breastpieoe of his armoor, to examina if he had any wonndi but he 
saw DO blood, nor sign of anv hurt. He then endeaTOnied to raise 
him from the sroond, and viui no little trouble placed him upon his 
■Bs, as being- tne beast of easier cairia^. He gathered to|ietner all 
the arma, not CKoepting the broken pieces of Taooe, aad ued them 
upon Rozinante ; taen taking him h; tlie bridle, and his ass bj the 
halter, he vent on towards bia vilWe, full of coGOcm at the wild 
language of Don Quiioto. No less thoughtful was the knight, who 
was BO cTQeUf beaten and bruised that he cuold ecarcclv keep himself 
upon the ass, and ever and anoa be sent forth groans that seemed to 
pierce the ikies, ioBomach that the peasant was again forced to 
mquire what ailed him. Aid Burelj' the devil alone could have fur- 
nisbed his meniorj; with stories so applicable to wbat had befallen 
him; for at that instant, forgetting Valdovinos, be recollected the 
Moor Abindarraez, at the time wuen the governor of Antequera, 
Roderigo of Narvaez, had taken him prisoner, and conveyed him to 
his castle ; so that when the peasant asked him again how be was, 
and what be felt, he answered him in the ver; same terms that were 
used by the prisoner Abindarraez to Hoderigo of Narvaez, as he had 

n the Diana of George of Montemayor, amlyini; it so aptly to 
nis own cose tliat the peasant went on cursing lumsclf to the deviL to 
hear such a monstrous heap of nonsense, which convinced him that 
his ncighboiu* bad run mad, and he therefore mnde what haste ha 
contd to reach the village, and thereby escape the plague of D<m 
Quixote's lonij speeches L who, still continning, said : — " Be it known 
to your worship, Signor Don Koderigo de Narvaez, that this beaute' 
ons Xarifa, whom I mentioned, is now the fwr Dulcinea del Toboso, 
for whom I have done, do, and will do, the most famous exploits ot 
chivalry, that have been, are, or shall be, seen in the world." To this 
the peasant answered:— "Look you. Sir, as 1 ama sinner. I am not 
Don Koderigo de Nonaes, nor tbe marquis of Mantua, Dut Pedro 
Alonio your neighbour : neither is your worship Taldovinos, nor Abin- 
darraez, but the worthy gentleman Signor Quixada." " I know who 
I am." answered Don Qiiixote; "and I know, too, that I am not only 
capable of beine those I have mentioned, but all the twelve peers of 
Prance, yea, and the nine worthies, since my exploits will far exceed 
all that they have jointly or separately achieved. 

With this and similar conversation, they reached the village abont 
lunsct ; but the peasant waited imtil the night was a titile advanced, 
that the poor nittcrcd gentleman might not be seen so scnrvily 
monntod. When he thought it the proper time, he entered the 
village, and arrived at Don Quixote's house, which he found all in 
eonfnsion. The priest and the barber of the place, who were Don 
Quixote's particuW friends, happened to be there : and the house- 
keeper was saying to them aloud ; " What do you think, Signor 
Licentiate Pero Perez " (for that was tbe pricsf s name) " of my 
master's misfortune? for neither be, nor his horse, nor the tai^ct, 
nor tbe lanoe, nor the armour, have been seen these six days past. 
Woe is me ! I am verily persuaded, and it is certainly true as 1 was 
bom to die, that these cursed books of knight-errantry, which he ' 

often reading, have turned his brain ; and, now I think of it, I have 
(rften heard uim sav, talking to bimselt tbat he would turn knight- 

, . ., . .... .■ ..,.,. Thedevil 

nest under- 

errant, and go abont the world in quest of adventures. The luvil 
and Barabbas take all Buch book», that Lave apoüed the finest nnder- 


(tending in ill Lt> JIuiclia." The niece joined vith her, adiling, 
" And ;oa mnst know, Master Nicholas " (for that wu the barbera 
name}, " that it has often happened that m; honoured nncle has con- 
tinued ponng on these wicked books of misadventures two whole 
dafs ana nights ; then, tlirowir^ tiie book out of his hand, he would 
draw his sword and strike s^ainst the wails ; and when he was 
heartilj tired- would saj', he had killed four eiants, as tall as soman/ 
steenlea. and that the sweat, which his labour occasioned, was the 
blood of the wounds be had rcccÍTed in the fight ; then, after drink- 
ing oiET a lar^ piteher of cold water, be would be as quiet as ever, 
teDing ns that tie water was a most precicms lienor, brought him by 
the sage Esquife, a great enchanter, and his friend. But I take the 
idame of ail this to mjself, for not mfonning you, gentlemen, of my 
dear uncle's extravagancies, that thev might haTe oeen cored before 
tjiej had gone so £sr, by burning all tliose cursed books, which as 
joatly deserve to be committed to the fiames as if the; were here- 
ticaL" " I say the same," quoth the priest : " and, uj feith, to- 
morrow shall not pass without holding a publio inquisition ni>an 
them, and condemning them to the flre, that they may not occasion 
others to act as I fear my good friend has done." 

AH this was overheard by Don Quiiote and the peasant ; oni^ as it 
confirmedthe latter in the belief of his neighbour's mflrmitv, he began 
to cry aloud, " Open the doors, gentlemen, to Signer Valaovinos and 
the marquis of Mantua, who comes dangerouily wounded, and to 
Signer Abindarraez the Moor, whom the valorous Boderigo de Nar- 
vaez, governor of Antequera, Drings as his prisoner." Hiring this, 
they all came out ; and, immediately recognising their friend, they 
ran to embrace him, althon^b he had not vet alighted from the 
OSS ; for indeed it was not in his power. "Torbeii, all (rf vnn," 
he cried, " for I am sorely wounded, through my horse's fault ; 
carry me to my bed; and, if it be possible, send for the sage Ur- 

u to search and heal my wounds." " Look ye," said the 
Douoeceeper immediately, " if my heart did not tell me tral; on 
which leg my master halted. Get upstairs in God's 

without the help of that same Urgandn, we shall find a way to cure 
yon ourselves. Cursed, say I asajn, and a hundred times cursed, be 
those books of knight-errantry, tlial have brought your worship t« this 
pass!" They earned him directly to his ohamber, where, on searching 
for his wounds, they oould discov» none. He then told them " ho 
vas only bruised by a great fall he got with bis horse Rozinante, as 
he was nghttng with t^ of the most prodigious and audacious giants 
on the face of the earth." " Ho, ho ! says the priest, " what, there 
are giants too in the dance 1 bv my faith, I shall act fire to them all 
before to-morrow night." They asked Don Qoiiote a thousand 

Sfstions, to which he wonld return no answer ; he only desired that 
ey would give him some food, and allow hun to sleep, that beinp 
what be most required. Having done tliis, the priest inquired parti- 
cularly of the oountryman in what condition Don Quixote hid been 
found. The countrymau gave bim an account of the whole, with the 
extravagancies he h^ uttered, both at the time of finding bim, and 
dñnng their journey home ; which made the Licentiate impatient to 
carry into execution what he had determined todo tiio following day, 
vhen, for that purpose, calling upon his friend Master Nicholas the 
bubw, the; prooecoed together to Dob Quixote's houM). 



Lime Bud heavy -was the sleep of Don Qniiote ; meanvhile the 
phest hacine aakea the niece for the iev of the chamber containing 
the books, those authon of the mischief, which she delivered with a 

Tery - ■ teeper, and fuuad 

■bcrr 9 a oreat number 

of ss ;e them than she 

na I r returned with a 

pot 1 " Siynor LiccQ- 

tidii enchanter of the 

aaa, as a punishment 

iort The priest smiled 

■t 1 barber to reach. 

iim rhat they treated 

of; ot to be chastised 

tvfl why any of them 

mm ien : so hi them 

all 1 . rd ; anil, having 

madeapileof tbem. set ¿reto it : or elsemakeabónfiícof theminthe 

back-ysfd, where the smoke will offend nobody." The housekeeper 

laid the Mine ; so eagerly did thev both thirst for the death of tiiose 

innocents. But the pneat would not consent to it without first 

reading tke titles at Wast. 

Tht first that Master Nicholas pnt into his hands was Amadis de 

priest said, "There seems to be some 

card say that this was the first book of 

id that ail the rest had their founda- 

ik, therefore, as head of so pernicious 

him to the fire without mercy." " Not 

have heard also that it is the best o( all 

fore, as being uncnnalled in its way, it 

arc right," said tne priest, "and for 

for the present. Let us see that other 

I the barber, " the Adventures of Es- 

of Amadis de Gaul." " Verily," said 

the father shall avail the son nothing; 

er; open that easement, and tlirow liim 

lake a beginning to the pile for the 

I j-.x .. ^j([| mnch satisfaction. 

r— — * for the fire with which he was threatened, "Proceed," 

said the priest. " The neit," said the barber, " is Amadis rf 
Greeoe; yea, and all these on this aide, I believe, are of the lincof^cof 
iiaadis.'' " Then into the yard with them all!" quoth the priest j 
" for niber than not bnm Qaeen Pintiquluiestia, aitd the shepherd 


Darinel with liis eclopiiea, and the devilish perpleiities of the «nthor, 
I would bum the fatlier who beeot me, «ere I to meet liim in the 
shape of a kiiight-erniQt," "Of the same opinion ain I," said the 
barber ; "Audi too," added the niece. "Well then," said the 
housekeeper, "avray willi them all into the yard." Tliey handed 
them to her; and, as thcT vere numerous, to save herself the trouble 
of the stairs, she threw them all out of the window. 

"What tun of an author is that?" said the priest. "This," 
answered the barljer. " is Don Olivante de Laura." " Tlie author of 
that book," said the priest, "was tlie same who composed the 
Garde» of Flowers ; and in good truth 1 know not whielt of the two 
books is the trllc^t, or rather (he least lying; lean only say that tills 
Koes to the yard for its arrogance and absurdity." Tlus that fol- 
lows is I'lorismarte of Uvrcania," said the barber, " What ! is 
Siguor riurismarte there? reiilieil the priest: " now, by my faith, 
he sliall soon make his appearance in the yard, notwilhstoniung his 
Blraiige búth and chimerical adventures; for the harshness and dry- 
ness of his stf le will admit of no excuse. To the yard with bim, and 
this other, mistress housckccjicr." " With all mv heart, dear sic," 
aiLswered she; and with much joy exceuLi'd what she was com- 
manded. " Here is the knight Flntir," siiid (he barber. " That," 
said the priest, "is an ancient book, and I find nothing in him 
desen'h^ pardon: without mure words, let him be sent after the 
rest ;" which was accordingly duDC, They opened another book^ aud 
found it entitled (he Knight of the Cross. " So religious a title," 
mioththe priest, " might, otie would think, atone for the ignorance of 
tne author; but it is a common saying, 'the devil lurks behind 
the cross:' so to tlie lire with hmi." The barber, tuking down 
another book, said, " This is the mirror of chiraliy." " Oli ! I know 
his worship very well," quotli the [iriest. " llcre comes Siguor 
liejualdos do Jlontalran, with his frii-nds and compauions, greater 
thieves than Caeus ; and the Twelve Peers, with the failhfufhisto- 
riugra|iher Turpin. However I wn only for condemning them to 
iM!r)ii'tual bunishracnt. because they contain some tilings of the 
lamuus Hateo JJojardo; from whom the Christian poet Lndovico 
¿riosto spun his web ; and, even to him, if I find him here uttering 
any other hmgnage thna his own, I will show no respect ; but if he 
speaks in his own tongue, I will put him upon my head. " I have him 
inltalian,"saidthc barber, "butldonotuuderstandhim." "Neither 
is it an}' greet mal ter, whclher tounndcrstaudhimor uot," answered 
the pne^ ; " aud we would willingly have excused the good captain 
from brinjrins him into Sjiaiu and makiug htm aCastiliaii; for he lias 
deprived him of a great deal o( his native value ; which, indeed, is 
the nibforiunc of all those who undertake t he t nmslation of poetry into 
other hiiigua^'cs ; for, with aU their e.irc aud skill, they can never 
briug them on a level with theori:£Ínal production. In short, I scu- 
teuce (his, aud all other l>uoks, thai shall he found treating of Frimeh 
matters, to be Ihrxiwu aside, and deposiled in some árv laidt, until we 
can deli lieratc more matuiely what is to be done with them ; excepting, 
however. Heñíanlo del Car|iio, and anotlier, called lionccsialles, 
whieh, if (lier fall into my hands, shall pass into those oí the house- 
ki c^jer, and (hence into tlie lire, without any remission." The barber 
conliniieil (he sentence, and aecounted il well and rifthtly deter- 
mined, knowing that the priest was so good a Chrbtian, and so 

" A.oogic 

DHInietton of Don Qiiliolc'i llbntr.— P. to. 

r : .,..1, Google 

Uigniaüb, Google 

DisFZBaion 01 his libbabt. SI 

mnch a frieaid to trntb, that he would not utter a falsehood for all 
the irorld. 

Then, opening another book, he saw it was Palmerm de Oliva, and 
neit to that another, called Palmerin of Ensland ; on cspjins n-hich, 
the Licentiate said, "Let this Oliva be torn to pieoes, and so effec- 
tually burnt that not so much as the ashes may rcmaio ; but let Pol- 
merinof England be preserved and kept, as an unique nroduclioti; ami 
such another case be made for it as that vhieh Alexander found among 
the spoils of Darius, and «mropriated to preserve the works of the pni't 
Homer. This book, neighbour, is estimable npon two aceoiuils; the 
<»e, that it is very pood of itself; and the olner, because there is a 
tradition tliat it was written by an ingenious king of Portugal. All 
the adventures of the castle of Miraguarda are eicfllect, and con- 
trived with much art-, the dialoeue courtly and clear; and all the 
diaraeteri preserved with great jui^ment and propriety. Therefore, 
Master Nicholas, savii^ four better jndgmenl. let tljis and Amadis 
de Gaul be exempted from the fire, anil let all the rest perish wilhnut 
•ny further inquiry." "Not so, friend," replied the barher; "for 
thá which I liavc here b the renowned Don BeU, 'is." The priest 
■ «plied, " This, and the second, third, and fourth parts want a Uttio 
ihttharb to pni^ away their excess of bile ; besides, we must rer e 
aU that relates to the castle of Fame, and other absurdities of preatcr 
Conseq^npiice ; for which let sentence of transportation he passi'd upnti 
them, andj according as the,v show signs of amendment, they shall bo 
treated with mercy or justice. In the mean time, neighbour, give 
them room in your house; but let them not be read." " With all 
my heart," qaoth the barbery and without firing himself any farther 
in taming over books of chivalry, hid the housekeeper take all the 

rt ones and throw them into the vard. This was not spoken to 
itunid or deaf, but to one who had a gttiater mind to be burning 
them than weaving the finest and largest web; and therefore, laying 
hold of seven or eight at once, she tossed them out at the window. 

But, in taking so many together, one fell at the barber's ft ct, who 
had a mind to see what it was, and found it to be the History of the 
renowned knight Tirante the Whit*. "Heaven save me!" quoth the 
priest, with a load voice. " is Timnte the While there ? Give him to 
me, neighbour; for in him I shall have a treasure of dohght, and a 
mine of entertainment. Here we have Don Kyrie-Kleisou of Mon- 
talvan, a valorous knight, and his brotherThomasof .Miinta)v,-m, with 
the knight Funseca, and the combat which the valiant Tirante foui:lit 
with the bull-dog, and the witticisms of the damsel Plaierdemivida, 
also the amour? and artiüces of the widow Reposada; and madam 
the Empress ia love with her sqiiire Hvpolito. Verily, neighbour, in 
its way it is the best book in the world : here the kiiúílits cat, and 
sleep, and die in their beds, and make their wills before their deaths; 
with several thinpa which are not to be found in any other books of 
tldii kind. Notwitb.standing this, I tell you, the author descr\'ed, for 
writing so many foolish thinis seriously, to be sent to the galle.™ for 
the whole of hia life : carry it home and read it, and you will fuid all 
I sav of him to be true, " I will do so," answered the barber : 
"btti what shall we do with these small volumes tliat remain?" 
"Those," said the priest, "are, probably, not bonks of chivalrv, but 
of poenj." Then opening one, tie found it was the Diana nf George 
de Moutemayor, and, concluding that all the others were of the same 


kbd, he said, " These do not deserve to bo bnrnt like tbe rest ; for 
tliey cautiot oo the mischief that those of chivahy have done ; they 
■re work of genios and fancy, and do injurj to none." " sir, ' said 
the niece, " pray order them to be homt with the rest ; for shonld 
my uncle be cured of this distemper of chivalry, he may possibly, by 
rcadinz such books, take it into his head to turn shepherd, and wander 
through ttie woods and fields, singing and phifing on a pipe ; and, 
what would be still worse, turn poet, which, they say, is a» incnrable 
and Dontaeions disease," "The damsel says true," auotii the priest, 
" and it will not be amiss to remove this stiunbliug- block out of our 
friend's way. Ami, since we begin with the Diana of Montemayoi, 
my opinion is that it should not be burnt, but that all that part 
should be expun^ which treats of tlie sage Felicia, and of the 
enchanted fuuntom, and also most of the longer poems ; learii^ him, 
in God's name, the prase, and also the honour of heiag the first in 
that kind of writing. "The neit that appears," said the barber, 
" is the Diana, called the second, by Salmantmo ; and another, of the 
same name, whose author is Gd Polo." "The Salmantinian," an- 
swered the priest, " may accompany and increase the number of the 
condemned— to the yard with lum : bnt let that of Gil Polo be pre- 
served, as if it were written by Apollo hiniself. Proceed, friend, and 
kt Ds despatch ; (or it grows late, 

"This, said the barber, opening another, "is the Ten Books of 
the Fortune of Love, composed by Antonio de io Fraaso, a Sardinian 
poet." "By the holy orders I have received!" said the priest, 
since Apollo was Apollo, the muses muses, and the poels poets, 
so humorous and so whimsical a book as this was never written: it 
is the best, and most extraordinary of the kind, that ever appeared in 
the workl : and he who has not read it may be assured that he has 
never read anything of taste ■ give it me here, neighbour, for I am 
better pleased at finding it than if I had been nresented with a cas- 
sock of Florence satin.' He laid it aside, witJi great satisfactioo, 
•nd the barber proceeded, saying: "These which follow are the 
Shepherd of Ibena, the lymphs of Enares. and the Cure of Jea- 
lousy." "I'hen you have only to deliver them up to the secular 
arm of the housekeejier," said, the priest, " and ask me not why. for 
in that case we should never have done." "Theneit is the Shepherd 
of Rlida." " Ho is no shepherd," said the priest, " but an injicnious 
courtier; let him be preserved, and laid up as a precious jeweL" 
"This bulky volume here," said the barber, "is entitled the Treasure 
of Divers Poems." "Had they been fewer," replied the priest, 
"they would have been more esteemed: it is necessary that this book 
should be weeded and cleared of some low things interspersed amongst 
its sublinuties ; let it be preserved, both because the author is mj 
friend, and out of respect to other more heroic and exaltod produc- 
tions of hia pen." "This," pursued the barber, " is El Cancionero 
of LopcE Maldonado." The author of that book," rcpLed the 
priest. " is also a great friend of mine : his verses, when sun» by 
himself, eicite much admiration ; indeed, such is the sweetness of ma 
voice in sinzing them, that thev are perfectly enchanting. He ia a 
little too prolii m his eclonus ; out there can never be too mnoh of 
what is really good : let itlw preserved with the select. 

"Bot what book is that next to itf" " The Galatea of Michael 
de Cervantes," tüd the barber. "That Cervantes has been u 

, , . .A.OOgIC 


intímate friend or mne these ID attf Tean, and I know that he íb more 
versed in múfortmies than in poetr?. Tiiere is a good vein of inven- 
timi in his book, which pnq>o3es something, thoagh nothing ia con- 
ohided ; we nmit wait for the second "ptiit, which he has promised ; 
pedup^ on his amendment, he naj' obtain that entire pardon which 
u now denied him; in the mean time, neighbwir, keep Eim a recluse 
m yonr chamber." " With all my heart," answered the barber : "now 
here oontes three together : the Arancana of Don Alonso de Ereilla, 
the ¿natriada of Juan Rafo, a magistrate of Cordova, and the Mon- 
jerrato of Christoval de Virgea, a poet of Valencia." "These three 
booki," said the prie*t, " are the bátt that are written in heroic verse 
m the Castilian toninic^ and ma; stand in competition with the most 
rntowned worki of Italy, Let them be preseired as the beat pro- 
ODCtiaDS of the Spaniah mnse," The pnest (rrew tir^ of looÉhw 
oftt so muof books, and therefore, wiiliont examination, proposed 
that aU the mt shcmJd be bnmed; bnt the barber, haring already 
opened one odJed the Tears at Angelica, " I should have ahed tears 
myself;" said the- barber, on hearing the name. " had I ordered that 
of the most celebrated 


0/ O* teeend mUi/ tf nr good httgla Do» <iiiüoU ¿i la MamtÁa, 

Os a sodden, «hile they were thus employed, Don Qnixote began 
to (nil aloud, saying, " Here, here, Tslorous knigbts ! Here yoa must 
exert the force of your powerful arms ; for the courtiers begin to ñt 
the adrantage in the tonmamcnt." All mshinK out at onoe to Qie 
place whemje this noisy exclamation proceeded, the sorutiny was sod- 
deoly interrupted ; and therefore it is beliered that to the Sn, nnsaen 
and onheard, went the Carolea, and Leon of Spain, with the Acts (¿ 
the Eoqtwoc, composed by Don Lewis de Avila, which, without 
donbt, Biust nave been amcoigst those that were 1^ : and, pcriiapo, 
had the priest seen them, they might not have undergone so ligprons 
a sentence. On entering Don Qoixota's chamber, they found him 
already out of bed, and continuing his outcries and ravings, witJi his 
drawn sword, laying fiuiouily about him. back-stroke and fore-stroke, 
and as bnwd awake as if he had never been asleep. Thay closed in 
with him, and by main force conve^ him again to his bed, where, 
after he was a little composed, be said, turning himself to the priest, 
"Certainlj, my lord arebbisbop TnrpiiL it is a great disgrace to os, 
who cmII oursdves the twelve peers, to let the knights-courtiers carry 
off the jwlm, witboot more opposition, after wo, the adventurers, 
have gained the prize on the three precedmg dava." " Say no more, 
~_j -■- " said tne priest ; " it may be Heaven s will to change oi" 
' ' ' 'a lost to-d» may be won to-moirow; mind yoi 


''onnded I am not," said Don 

U SON qnxoTE. 

Quizóte : " bnt bnuaed uid battered, most certaiiil7 : for that bastard, 
Don Roldan, has poonded mc with the trunk of an oak: and all out 
of mere enry, because he sees I am the sole rival of hia prowess. 
But let me never more be called Binoldo of Montauban, if, as soon as 
I c&D lise frCHn this bed, he pa; not dcarl; for it, in spite of all bis 
enchantments. In the meao time, KÍve me some food : for that is 
what I am nov most in need of. and leave me to the care of avensin^ 
myself." Thej complied with his request, and gaye him something 
to eat ; be then fell fast asleep again ; leaving them in astonishment at 
his madness. 

The some nizht the housekeeper set fire to, and bnmt, all the books 
Üiat were in the vacd, and in toe house. Some mnst have perished 
that deserved to be treasured up in perpetual archives : but their 
destiny, or the indolence of the scrotineer, forbade it ; and in them 
was fulfilled the saying that "the just sometimes suffer for the 
ui^ust." One of the remedies whioh the priest and the barber pre- 
scribed at that time, for their friend's maladf, was to wall up the 
chamber which had cont^ed his books, hoping that, when the cause 
was removed, the effect nii^bt cease; and that they should pretend 
that an enchanter had carried room end all away. This was specdilf 
Ciecuted; and, two days ijter, when Don Qiiiiote left his bed, the 
first thing that occurred to him was to visit his books; and, not 
finding tho room, he went up ond down looking for it; when, 
coming to the former situation of the door, he felt with hia bands, 
and stared about on all sides without speaking a word for some time ; 
at length he asked the housekeeper where the chamber wns in which 
he kept his books. She, who was already well tutored what to 
answer, said to him ; " What room, or what notbine, does yonr 
worship look for F there is neither room, nor books, in thishonse; for 
the devil himself has carried oU away." — " It was not the devil," said 
the niece, "but an enchanter, who eameone night upon a cloud, 
after the day of your departure, and, aliirhting from a serpent on which 
he rode, entered the room ; what he did there, I know not, but, after 
some little time, out he came, flying throngh the roof, and left the 
house full of smoke ; and when we went to see what he had been 
doing, we saw neither books nor room ; only we very well rtrnember, 
both I and mistress housekeeper here, that when the wicked old thief 
went awav, he said with a loud voice, that from a secret enmity he 
bore to the owner of those books and of the room, he had done a 
nusehief in this bouse which would soon be manifest : he told us also, 
that he was called the sage Mnnniaton." "Freston he meant to 
say," quoth l)on Quixote. " I know not," answered the house- 
keeper, "whether his name be Preston or Frilon t all I know is, that 
it ended in ton." — "It doth so," tiplied Don Quixote. "He is a 
sage enchanter, a great cnemv of mine, and bears me maliee, beeansc 
by his still and leaminghe knows, that in process of time, I shall 
engage in single combat with a km^bt whom he favours, and shall 
Tanquish him, in spite of his protection. On this account he endcn- 
Tours, as much as he can, to molest me ; but let him know, from mc, 
that tie cannot withataiid or avoid what is decreed by heaven " — 
" Who doubts of that f" said the niece ; "but, dear uncle, what have 
you to do with these hroilsP ^Vould it not be belter to stay qiiielly 
at home and not ramble about the world seeking for better brtnd than 
wheoten; without considering that many go out for wool and return 


iboraP"— "O niecfe" aniwered Don (^lixote, "bow little dost thon 
know of the matter ! Before thev shall shear me, I will plnck and 
tear off the beards of all those who dare think of toacbing the tip of 
a single hair of mine." Neither of them would make on; farther 
1^7 ; for the^ saw hia choler begin to rise. Fifteen days be remained 
at iKHee^ Tery traniinü, discovering no sjmptom of an inclination to 
npaX his lata tmUea ; during which time much pleasant oonveitation 
púsed between him and his two ncighbonra, the priest and the bar- 
ber ; he always affirming that the world stood in need of nothmg so 
much as knights-errant, and the reviTai of obivalrj;. The priest some- 
timei contraáiot«d him, and at other times acquiesced ; for, had he 
not been thus cautious, there would have been no means left to biiog; 
bin) to reason- 
In the mean time Son Quixote tampered with a labonrer, a neigh- 
bour of his, and an honest man (if such an epithet can be giien to one 
that is poor), but sballow-biained ; in short he said so much, used so 
numv a:%iiments, and made ao many promises, that the poor fellow 
resolved to sally out with him and serve him in the capacity of a 
squire. Among other things, Don Quixote told him that he ought 
to be very ghid t« accompao)' him, for such an adventure might some 
time or toe other occur, that by one stroke an island might be won, 
vhere he might leave him governor. With tliia and other promises, 
Sancho Fanca (for that was the labourer's name) ie(t liis wife and 
children, and engaged himself as squire to his neighbour. Don 
Quixote now set about raising monex ; and, by tclhng one thing, 

fawning another, and losii^ by all. he collected a tolerable sum. He 
tted himself likewise with a buckler, which he horrowed of a friend, 
and, ]uitchin^ up his broken helmet in the beat manner he could, be 
acquainted hia Muire Sancho of the da» and how he intended to set 
oat, that be might provide himself with what he tlionght would be 
Diost needful Above all, he chawed him not to forget a wallet ; 
which Sancho assured him he would not neglect ; be said also that he 
thought of Caking an ass with him, as he had a very good one, aad he 
was not used to travel much on foot. With regara ki the ass, Don 
Qoiiote paused a hltle; endeavouring to recoUect whether any 
niighterrant had ever carried a sijuirc mounted on ass-back ; bnt no 
instance of the kind occurred to his memoty. However, he consented 
that he should take his as9, resolving to accommodate him n 

-o- — ,- with 

Bhirta, and other things, conformably to the advice given him by the 

All this being aocomidished, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, with- 
ont taking leave, the one of his wife and children or the other of hu 
honsekeeper and niece, oae night saUied out of the village unper- 
ceived : and they travelled so hard that by b«ak of day they believed 
themselies secure, even if search were made after them. Sancho 
Panza proceeded upon his ass, like a patriarch, with his wallet and 
leathern boltlc, and with a vejiement desire t« find himself governor 
^ the island which his master had promised him. Don Quiiot« 
happened to take the same route as on his first expedition, over the 
plain of Uontiel, which hepasscd with less inconvemence than before; 
htii was early in the mraning, and the rays of the sun, darting on 
tlüm hcHÍzontaUri did not annoy them. Sanidia Pansa now said to 

to ftHvet TOUT promüe concerning that bouic isiouu ^ lui i «uui uiu» 
liow to Kovem it^ be it ever bo laive." To which Don Qnixote 
aii£wered : " Thou moat know, friend Sancho Panza, that it tbs a 
cnstom mach in ose amons the knishtB-ernuit of old to make their 
aqoires goreraoTB of the islands or finpioms they conquered ; and I 
am detennined that lo laudable acnstom shall not be lost through my 
neglect ; on the contrary, I resolve to out-do them in it : for tbey, 
sometimes, and perhaps, most times, waited till their squirM were 
grown old; and when they were worn out iu their Eerrice. and had 
endured many bad days and worse nights, they conferred on them some 
title, «ooh B3 ooont, or at least marquis, of some vdley or province, of 
ynocc or less accormt : bat it yon live, and I live, before six days have 
MBsed I may probt^ly win such a kingdom as may have others 
depending: on it, jnat fit for thee to be crowned king ol one of them. 
Am do not think this any extraordinary matter; for things &11 
out to knights by such unforeseen """^ unexpected way», that I mi^ 
easily give thee more than I pronuse." " So then," answered Sancho 
Fanu, "if I were a king, by some of those miracles your worship 
mentions, Joan Ontierrez, mv duck, would oome to be a queen, and 
my children infimtas!" "WnodoulifsitF" answwed Don Qoiiote, 
"I doubt iL" replied Sancho Panza; "for I am verily persuaded 
that, if God were t« rain down kin^oma upon the earth, none of 
them would ait well upon the bead of Mary Gutierrez ; for yon must 
know, sir, abe is not worth two farthings for a queen. The title of 
counteaa would sit better upon her, with the help of Heaven and 
good fnends." " Recommend her to God, Sancho," answered Don 
Quixote, " and he will do what is best for her ; but do thou have a 
care not to debase thy mind so low as to content thyself with being 
lessthana vioeroy." "Sir, I will not," answered Sancho; "espe- 
cially having so great a man for my master as your worship, who will 
know bow to give me whatever is most fitting for me, and what I un 
best aUe to bear." 


0/ ÍA« •oatonm* Do% Quixoit't neeta « 0^ drtaJfiü a,%d *ntr-bffoit- 
imagitifd adKuHra qf Ote vindatüUi *iA oAer tvtnU tioráy to bt 

Enoaobs in this discourse, they came in sight of thirty or forty 
windmills, which are in that plain ; and, as soon as Don Quixote 
espied them, be said to his sñuire: "fortune dispwea our aStin 
better than we ourselves could have desired; look yonder, friend 
Sancho Panza, where tbou mayest discover somewhat more than tliirtv 
monstrous giants, whom I intend to encounter and slay ; and witn 
their spoils we will begin to enrich ourselves ; for it is uiwful war, 
and domg Ood good service to remove so wicked a generation from Off 


Kme an vont to haré them almost of the length of two leagnea." 
" Look, sir, answered Sancho, " those which appear ponder are not 
giants, but windmillsi and what seem to be arms are the sajb, 
which, whirled about by the wind, make the mill-stone go." " It is 
very erident," answered Don Quiiote, "that thou art notTersedin 
the business of sdventuree : the^ are giants : and, if thou art afraid, 
get thee aside and pray, whilst I engage with them in fierce and 
Tmeqoal combat." So saying, he clapped spars to his steed, notwith- 
standing the dies his squire sent aft^ him, assuring him that they 
were certainly windmills, and not giants. But he was so fnlly pos- 
sessed that they were giants, that he neither heard the outcries of his 
squire Sancho, nor yet discerned what they were, though he was Tery 
near them, but went on crying out aloud : " Fly not, ye cowards and 
Tile csti& ; forit ias single tnight who Bssaulla yon." The wind now 
rismg a littlt the gnat sails began to more ; upon which Don 
Qniiote called out : Although ye ahoold have more arms than the 
giant Briareus, ye shall ^ for it." 

Then recommending hunself dcroutly to his lady Dolcinea, beseech- 
ing her to succour him in the present danger, being well covered with 
his buckler, and aettint* his lance in the rest, he rushed on as faat 
as Eflanante could gallop, and attacked the first mill before him ; 
when, running bis lanoe into the sail, the wind whirled it about with so 
much violence that it broke the lanoe to shivers, drawing horse and ridei 
after it, and tumbling them over and over on the plain, in reir evil 
plight. Sancho Panza hastened to his assistance, as fast as the ass 
could carry him ; and when he came up to his master, he found him 
nnable to stir, so violent was the blow which he and Hosinante had 
received in their &11. " God save me ! " quoth Sancho, " did not I 
warn ^u to have a care of what you did, for that they were nothing 
but wmdmills F And nobody could mistake them, but one that had 
the like in his head." "Peace, Mend Sancho," answered Dob 
Quixote : " for matters of war are, of all others, most subject to con- 
tinual change. Now I verily believe, and it is moat certainly the fact, 
that the sage Frrston, who stole away my chamber and books, haa 
metamorphwed these aianta into windmiDa, on purpose to deprive me 
of the glory of vanqnishing them, so great is the enmity he bears me t 
Sat hia wicked arts wüi finally avail but little against the goodness of 
my stronL" " God grant it ! answered Sancho Panza ; then helping 
him to rise, he mounted him again upon hia steed, which was almost 

Conversing opon the late adventnre: they followed the road that 
led to the pass of Lapice ; because there, Bon Quijote said, they 
could not fail to meet with many and vanous adventures, as it was 
much frequented. He was, howerer, concerned at the loss of his 
liace; ana, apeakiogof it to his squire, he said: "I lemembEX to 
have read that a certain Spanish knight, called Diego Perez de 
Tantas, having broken his sword in fight, tore off a hugs branch or 
limb from an oak, and performed such wonders with it that day, and 
dashed out the brains of so many Moors, that he was aumamed 
Machuca ;' and, from that day forward, he and bis descendants bore 
the monea of Vargas and Machuca, i now speak of this, because 
from the first oak we meet, I mean to tear a limb, at least as good aa 

* From ndcAacor, to briiiM or bnak. 

worthy to behold them, and to be an eve-witueaa of tr ^ _ 

BCttrcely be credited." "Heaven's will be done!" quotli Sancho; "I 
belieTe all just as you say, sir. But, pray set yourself more upright 
in your saddle : for you seem to me to riae sidelm^, owinjr, pcrbnps, 
to the bruises received by your fall." " It is certainly so, said Don 
Quixote ; " and if I do not complain of pain, it is liceause knights- 
errant are not allowed to complain of a^v wound whatever, even 
though their entrails should issue from it. " If so, I have nothing 
more to say," fjuoth Sancho, " but I should be glad to hesr your 
worship complain when anything bQs you. As for myself, I must 
complain of the least pain I feel, unl^s this business of not com- 
plaining extend also to the aquirea of knight s^errant." Don Quixote 
could not forbear smiling at the simplicitv of his squire, and told him 
he mia-ht complain whenever and as nmch as he pleased, either with 
or without cause, having never yet read anything to the oontniir in 
the laws of chivalry. 

Sancho put him in mind that it was time to dine. His master 
answered tuat at present he had no need of food, but that he might 
eat whenever he thought proper. With this license. Sancho adjusted 
himself as well as he could upon his beast ; and, taking out the con- 
tents of his wallet, he joggM on behind bis master, Tery leisurely, 
eating, and ever and anon raising the bottle to his mouth with so 
much relish, that the best-fed victualler of Malaga might have envied 
him. And whilst be went on in lliis manner, repeating his draughts, he 
thought no more of the promises his master had made hini ; nor dia he 
think it any toil, but rather a recreation, to go in quest of adventure^ 
however perilous they might be. In fine, they passed that night 
under the sbelter of some trees ; and from one of them the kniiht tore 
a withered branch, to serve him iu some sort as a lance, after fixing 
upon it the iron bead of the one that had been broken. All that night 
Don Quixote slept not, but mmmated on his lady Dulcinea; conform- 
ably to tlie ptacticeof knights-errant, who, as their bisforics told him, 
were wont to pass many successive nights in woods and deserts, 
witiiout closing their eyes, indulging the sweet remembmncc of their 
mistresses, hot so did Sancho 5i)ead the njijht; for, his stomach 
being full, and not of succory-water, he made bid oneslccpof it ; and, 
had not his master roused him, neither the beams of tlie sun, that 
darted full in his face, nor the melody of the birds which, in great 
numbera, cheerfuUj saluted the approach of the new day, could nave 
awaked Mm. At hia uprising he applied again to his bottle, and 
foand it much lighter than the evening before : which grieved him to 
the heart, for he did not think they were in tfie way soon to remedy 
that defect. Don Quixote would not yet break his fast, resolving, as 
vc have said, still to subsist upon savoury remembrances. 

They now turned ag^ into the road they hod entered upon the 
day before, leading to the pasa of Lapice, which they discovered 
about three in the afternoon. " Here, fnend Sancho," said Don 
Quijote, upon seeing it, " we may plunge our arms up to the elbows 
in what are termed adventures. But attend to this caution, that, 
even shouldst thou see me in the greatest peril in world, thou 
must not lay hand to thy sword to defend me, unless thou perceivest 
that my asaailanta are vulgar and low people ; in that case thou 



msfest assist me : bnt aLonld they be knights, it ií in nowise agree- 
Bble to the Uws of chivair; that thou shouldst interfere, until thou 
art thyself dubbed a knight." "I'our worship," wiswered. Sancho, 
"shall be obeyed most punctually therein, aud the rather as I am 
naturollj' Tcry peaceable, and an euem; to thrustinjc myself into 
brawls and squabhlos : but, forallthat, asto vhat rejiards the df^fence 
of my ovn person, 1 shall make no great account of those same laws, 
since both divine and human law aUaws every man to defend bimscll 
against whoever would wrong him." "Tliatl grant," answered Dun 
Quixote; "but with resj)ect to giving me aid OKainst knights, thou 
must refrain and keep within bounds thv natural impetnosii y . " I 
say, I will do so." answered Sancho ; and I will onserre this pre- 
cept as religiously as the Lord's day. 

As they were thus discoursing, there appeared on the mad two 
monks of the order of St. Benedict, mounted upon dromedaries ; for 
the mules whereon they rode were not much less. They wore travel- 
ling masks, and carried umbrellas. Behind tiiein came a coacli, accom- 
panied by four or ñve mea on horseback and two muleteers on foot. 
Within toe coach, as it afterwards a|>peared, was a IJiscayau hidy on 
her way tojoin her husband at Seville, who was there wailing to 
embark for India, where be was appointed to a very honourable post. 
The monks were not in her company, but were only travelling the 
same road. Scarcely bad Don Quixote espied them, when he said to 
his squire; "Either Iamdeceived,or this will prove the most famous 
adventure that ever happened; for those blacE figures that appear 
youder must undoubtedly be enchanters, who are carrying off in that 
coach some princess whom ihcy have stolen; which wrong I am 
bound to use my utmost endeavours to redress." " 'ITiis may prove 
a worse business than the wiudniills," said Sancho ; " pray, sir, take 
notice that those are Benedictine monks, and the coach must belong 
to some travellers. Hcarkcu to my advice, sir; have acare what you 
do, and let not the devil deceive jou." " I have already told thee, 
Sancho," answered Don Quixote, " that thou knowest little concern, 
ing adventures : what I say ia true, as thou wilt presently see." So 
Baling, he advanced forward, and planted himself in the midst of the 
highway, by which tlio monks were to pass ; and when they were so 
near that he supposed tiicy could bene what be said, he cried out 
with a loud voice : " Diabuhcal and monstrous race ! Either instantly 
release the kigb-hom priucesses ahum ye are are carr}'ing away per- 
force in that coach, or nrcporc for instant death, as the just cIuislísc- 
mcut of your wicked deeds." The monks stopped their muk's, and 
Stood amazed, as much at the figure of Don Quixote as at tiis expres- 
sions; to which they answered: "Si'iiior cavalier, we aro ueitjier 
dialwhcd nor monstrous, but monks of the Benedictine order, travel- 
ling on our own business, and entirelyignoront whether any prmeesses 
are carried away ia tliat coach by force, or not." " No fair speeches 
to mc ; for I know ye, treacherous scoundrels ! " and without waiting 
for a reply, lie clapped spurs to Uozinantc, and, with bis lance 
couched, ran at the foremost monk with such fury and resolution 
th^l, if he had not slid down from his mule, he would certainly h.-ive 
been thrown tothc ground, andwonnded too, if not killed outright. The 
second monk, on observing how his conirade'was treuli:d, clapped 
spurs to the sides of his good mule, and began to scour along the 
p lniii Ijirhter than the wina itself. 

so soH qntzoti. 

Sancho Puia, seeing the monk on Üie sKmnd, leaped nimUr tram 
bia ass, and ranning up to him, began to disrobe bim. While he was 
tbus emplojeJ, the two lacqueys came up, and asked him wbf he was 
atrippiug their master. Sanoho told then that thev were his kwfitl 
perquisitea, beinff the spoils of the battle wbich his lord Von Qmiot« 
bod just won. The lacqaeys, who did not understand the jest, nor 
what was meant bjr spoils or battles, seeing that Don Quixote vas 
at a distance, speabuig with those in tbe coacb, fell upon Sancho, 
threw him down, and, besides leavina him not a bair m hia beard. 

Save him a heart; kicking, and left bim stretched on the ground, 
Epri?ed of sense and motion. Without losing a moment, the moii 
now got upon his mule again, trembling, terrined, and pale as death; 
and was no sooner mounted tnan be spurred after bis companion, who 
stood at some distance to observe the issue of t)iis strange cncoanter ; 
but, being unwilling to wait, the; portued their way, crossing tbem- 
selres oftener than if the deVU Had been at their he^ls. In the mean 
time Don Quiiote, as it hath been altesdy mentioned, addressing the 
lad; in the coach, " Your beaof«oas ladyship may now," said he, 
" dispose of your person as pleaseth you best ; for tne pride of your 
raTisbera Ues humoled in the dust, orertbrown by my inrincible arm ¡ 
and, that jou may be at no trouble to learn the name of your deli- 
verer, know that I am called Don Quixote de la Mancha, knight-errant 
and adventurer, and captive to the peerless and brouteous Dulcinea 
del Toboso ; and in requital of the tieaefit you have received at my 
hands, all I deaira is, that you would return to Toboso, and, in my 
name, present yourselves before that lady, and tell her what I have 
done to obtain your iiberty." 

All that Don Quiiote said was ov^eard b/ a certain squire who 
accompanied the ooach, a Bisoayan, who, finding he would not let it 

Boceed, but talked of their immediately retummg to Toboso, flew at 
on Quixote, and, taking hold of bis lance, addressed him. in bad 
Caslilian and worse Biscayan, after this manner : " Cav^ler, oe^ne ! 
uid tbe devil go with thee I I swear, hy the power that made me. if 
thou dost not quit tbe oooch, thou foHeitest thy life, as I am a Bis- 

X." Don ^iiote understood him very well, and with great 
.ess answered ; " If thou wert a gentleman, as thou art not, I 
would beffwe now have chastised thy folly and presumption, thou 

titif ul slave." " I am no jtentleman ! said the Biscavan ; " I swear 
y tbe great God, Ihon liest, as 1 am a Christian ; if thou wilt throw 
away thy lance, and draw thv sword, thou shalt see how soon the 
cat will get into the water : * Biscayan by land, gentleman by sea, 
Kentleman for tbe devil, and thou liest ! Now what hast thon to sav ? 

Thou shslt see that presently, as said Aprages," answered Daa 
Quixote ■, then, throwing down bis lance, he drew bis sword, grasped 
his buckler, and set upon the Biscayan with a resolution to take his 
life. The Biscayan, seeing him come on in that manner, would fain 
have alighted, knowing that his mule, a wretched hackney, was not to 
be trusted, but he bod only time to draw hia sword. Fortuu^ely for 

* " To earry tbe tat to tho wnter" is a saying applied to one who Is 
Tictnrioiu In any ooDtest ; siid it is taken from a gniae in which two oals 
aro tied toffothor by tbe tail, thon oarried near a pit or well (luving tbo 
wa(«r boiwveo Ibeu), and tlie eM which flnt pulls the other in is doolarod 



him, be wm m new the coach u to be able to Kutch from it a 
cnihion, tlmt seired him for a ahield; vbo^apon, tber immediatetj 
fell to, as if theT had been mortal enemiea. The i«st of the oompanr 
would have nuuie peace between them, but it vaa impouible ' for the 
Biscafansvore, in his iai^n, that if tney wooJdnot let himftniahtiie 
eombat, he woiud nrnrder hia mistrfss, or whoever attempted to pre- 
vent him. 'Ihe Isilf of the coach, amazed and t^iúhted at «hat she 
saw, ordered the cooctunaa to remoie a little out of the waj, and sat 
■t a distance, beholdiu^ the fierce conflict ; in the progress of which 
the Siscajwi gave Don Quixote so mighty a stroke on one of hia 
shoulders, and above his buckler, that, had it Dot been for his ormoor, 
he had cleft him down to the ;rirdle. Don Quixote feeling; the weight 
ofthatonmeasurable bloWjCried out aloud, sujónar: "0 lady of my soul! 
Dulcinea, flower of all beauty I bdccouc this thy kni^t, wno, to satiefr 
thy (¡reat goodness, exposes himself to this penlons extremity ! 
This inroc^on, the cbawiog his sword, the covering himself well with 
his bockler, and rushing with fury on the Biscayan, was the work of 
an instant — resolving to venture all im the fortune of a Hingle blow. 
^IB fiiscayan perceiving bis determination, reaqlved to do the same, 
and theidne waited for him, covering hinóelf well with bis onshion; 
bnt he was nnable to turn bis mole either to the li^t or the left, for, 
bebtK already jaded, and nnaoonstomed to andi sport, the creature 
woum not move a step. 

Dos Qoisote, as we before said, now advanced towatds the wary 
Biscsyan with his uplifted sword, folly determined to cleave him 
■snnder; and ÜM Biscayan awaited him, with his sword also raised, 
and guarded by his coshion. All the bystanders were in fearful 
SQspcDse as to the event of those prodigious blows with which tbey 
threatened each other ; and the lady of t£e coach and her attendants 
were making a thousand vows and promises of offerings, to all the 
images and places of devotion in Spam, that Qod might deliver them 
and their squire from this great pertl. But the misfortune b, that the 
autbm* á tlus history, at that ven crisis, leaves the combat unfinished, 
pleading, in excuse, that heoould find no more written of the exploits 
{< Don Quixote thiui what he has already related. It is true, indeed, 
that tiie second undertaker of this work could not believe that so 
etnioas a histoiy should have been consigned to oblivion; or that the 
witsof LaManich» should have so little curiosity as not to preserve 
in their anthires, or cabinets, some memoiials of this famous snight ; 
indTunder that persnaai<Hi, he did not despair of finding the conclusion 
of this delectable history : which through the favour of UcAven 
•ctnaÜT oaine to pass, úd in the manner that shall be &ithf uUy 
reoooBted io the fiMlowing ohi^Aer. 

UignieUb, Google 


Now let ¡t not be forgotten, that in the preceding part of this liistory, 
tre left the valiant Biscay an and the renowned Don Quixote with their 
naked sironls raised oa high, ready U> discharge two such furious and 
cleaving strokes, as must-iftliey had lighted full, at least have divided 
the comtiatauts from head to heel, and split them asunder like a pome- 
granate ; but at that criticid moment this relishing history stopped 
short, and was left imperfect, without having any notice from the 
author of where the remainder might be found. This grieved me 
eitramely ; and the pleasure afforded by the little I had read gave 
place to mortiAcatioD, wlien I considered the uncertainty there n 

>r findii^ the portion that appeared to me yet wantiur of this 
aeupntful story. It seemed impossible, and contrary to ell prúse- 
worthy custom, that so accomplished a knight should have no sage to 

__cordhis UDpirallclcd exploits; for none of those kniglita-erranC who 
travehcd in quest of adventures were ever without them ; each having 
one or two sasrcs, made as it were on purpose, not only to record 
their actions, but to describe their most minute and trifiing thoughts, 
however secret. Surely, then, a knight of such worth coiUd not be 
BO unfortunate as to waat that with which Platir, and others like him, 
abounded. Hence I could not he induced to bcueve that so gallant » 
history had been left maimed and imperfect ; and I blamed the 
maliguitj' of Time — that devourer and consumer of aL things — for 
having either concealed or destroyed it. Uu the other hand, recol- 
lecting that some of bis books were of so recent a date as llie " Cure 

renowned Spaniwrd, Don Quii 

of Manchegan chivalry ! Tlic first who, in o' 

milons times, took opon him the toil andcx , ._ 

redress wrongs, succour widows, and relieve those damsels who, with 
whip and palfrey, and with all their virginily about them, rambled 
np and down from mountain to mountaiu, and from vaUey to vallev ; 
for damsels there were, in days of yore, woo (unless overpowered b; 


same mÍBomnt, or lerd obwn, with tiatchet and steel cap, or some 
prodizious giant), at the eipiratioa of fourscore j-eara, mid without 
ever sleeping during all that time beneath a roof, went ta the grave 
virgins as spotless as the mothers that bore them. Now, I say, upon 
these, and man; other accounts, our gallant Don Quixote is worthy of 
immortal memory and prajae. Nor ought some share to be denied 
even to me, forthetahour and pains I have taken to discover the end 
of tliis delectable bisloiy ; though I am very sensible that, if Heaven 
and fortune bad not beifrieuded me, the world would have still been 
without that diversion and pleasure which, for nearly two hours, an 
attentive reader of it cannot fail to entoy. I^ow the manner of find- 
ing it was this : — 

As I was walídne one day on the Exchange of Toledo, a boy offered 
for sale some bundles of old papers to amercer; andas I am fond of 

'■ " I- -. t - 1 J -. - 1 -.! - - jnaboutthe strcel 

__...,.. . . f those the boy w. _ 

selling, and perceived them to lie written in Arabic. But not under- 
standing it myself, although I knew the letters, 1 immediately loolted 
about for some Moorish rabbi wbo could read them t« nie ; nor was 
it difficult to find such an interpreter; for had I sought one to explain 
some more ancient and better laoguage, I should have found him 
there. In fine, my good fortune presented one to me, to whom I 
communicated my desire, and, putting tbe book into his hands, he 
opened it towards the middle, and, having read a little, began to 
Iwigb. I asked him what he smiled at, ana be said that " it was at 
eomething which he found written in the margin, bv way of annota- 
tion." rdesircd him to say what it was ; and, still lau^m^be told 
me that there was written on tlie margin as follows : " This Didcinea 
del Toboso, so often mentioned in his history, was said to have been 
the best hand at salting pork of anv woman in all La Mancha." 
When 1 heard the name of Dulcinea ael Toboso, I stood amazrd and 
confounded ; for it immediately occurred to me that those bundles of 
paper might contain the history of Don Quixote. 

With this idea, 1 pressed him to read llie beeinning, which he did, 
and, rendering extempore the Arsbic into Caatilian. said that it began 
thus; "The history of Don Quisote de )h Mancha, written by Cid 

Hametc Ben Engeli. Arabian historiograpber." Much discretion was 
necessary to dissemhle tbe joy 1 felt at hearing the title of the book ; 
and, snatcbing the other part out of tbe mercer's bands, I bo-iglit tbe 
whole bundle of papera of the boy for half a real ; who, if he had been 
cunning, and bad perceived how eager I was to have them, might 
well liave promised himself and really carried off, more than sii reals, 
W the bargain. I retired immediately with tue Morisco, througn 
tbe cloister of the great church, and requested him to ttanskte tor 
me tboee ^pera which treated of Don Quixote, into the Castiliaa 
tongue, without, omitting or adding anything: offering bim in pay- 
ment whatever he should demand. He was satisBed with fifty poimos 
of raisins and two bushels of wheat, and promised to translate them 
faithfully and expeditbusly. But, in order to facilitate the business, 
and also to maie sure of so valuable a prize, I took him home to my own 
bouae, where, in little more than six weeks, he trajislated the whole, 
exactly as will be found in the following pages. 

In the first aheet was portrayed, in a moat lively manner, Don 

Qniiote's ctnabat with theBiacayau, m the attitude airead; described ; 

' A.OOgIC 

U IK» qmerx. 

their sirords raised, the one coTered with his bockler, the oflier vith 
his cushion, and the Biscavan mule m coireotljr to the life, that ran. 
miglit discover it to be a liackney jade at the distance of a bovsbot. 
The Biscafiui had a label at his leet, on nhicb Tas written " Don 
Sancho de Azpetia;" vrhích, without doubt, must have been hia 
name ; and at the feet of Koeinajite was another, on which was 
■writtái "Don Quixote." Bozinante was admirahlv delineated: so 
long and lank, bo lean and feeble, with so sharp a oaokbone, and so 
like one in a galloping consumption, that jou might see plainlj with 
what judgment ana propriety the namooi Resinante had been gives 
him. Close by him stood Sancho Pama, holding his ass by the halter; 
at whose feet was another scroll, whereon was written " Sancho 
Zancas ;" and not without reason, if be was reallv, as the ttaindnK 
represented him, paunch-bellied, short of stature, and ^indle-anankea; 
which, doubtless, gave him the names of Pama and Zancas; for the 
history calls him by each of these surnames. There ven some other 
more minute particolars observable; hut they are all of little impor- 
tance, and contribute nothing t^ the faithful narration of the history; 
tíiough none are to be despieed, if true. But if any objection be 
alleged against the truth of this hjstory, it can only be that the author 
was an Atabiaji, those of that nation oeini^ not a little addicted to 
' ■ ; though as Ihey are somucbourenemoes, it maybeconjectnred 
'le rather fell short of, than exceeded the bounds oí truth. And, 

Inn^: th 
Ulat hei£ 

n fact, so it seems to have done ; for when he might, and ought to, 
üave launched out in the praises (¿ «o excellent a knight, it appearsi 
as if be had been careful to pass over them in silence ; an evil aot ana 

^e design ; for historians onght to be precise, faithful, and unpre- 
judiced ; sod neither interest nor fear, hatred nor affection, should 
make them swerve from the way of tnitli, whose mother is history, 
the rivtl of time, the depositary of great actions, witness of the past, 
example to the present, and monitor to the future. In this bisloiv 
jov will certainly find the most entertaining thin^ imaginable ; ani^ 
if wanting in anything, it must, without question, be owing to its 
inñdel author, and not to any defect m the subject. In short, the 
second part, according to the translation, began in this manner ; 

The trenchant bUdes of the two valorous and enraged combátanla, 
being brandished aloft, seemed to stand threateniog heaven and earth, 
and the deep abyss: such was the cotirage ana gallantry of ibeir 
deportment. The first who ' discharged his blow was the choleric 
Biscavan, which fell with such force and fury that, if the edge of his 
sword had not turned aslant by the way, that sins^le blow liad bees 
enough to have put an end to this cruel conflict, and to ail the adven- 
tures of our kmgtit. But good fortune preserving him for greater 
thinzs, so turnea his adversary's sword, tnat, though it alii-hced on 
the left ahoidder, it did him no other iiurt than to disarm that side, 
carryiug off, by the way, n great part of his helmet, with half an ear ; 
allwhich with tiideous ruin fell to the ground,leavinghimiu a piteous 

6oud Heaven! who is be that can worthily describe the rase that 
entered into the bronst of our Manclie^n, at seeii^ himself thus 
tren'ed ! Let it siiffit*, that it was sueli that, raisins liimself afresh 
in his stirrups, and gi'asiung his sword faster in both hands, he dis- 
chir.-cd it with such furv upon the Biscayan; directly over the cusiiion. 
and upon his head, whicn was nnpiotecteil, that, as if a mountain had 

BB ItUllUf. II 

Men apcn hba, 1^ Uood bemn to fpih ocrt of bis noÉtiilt, Ilia montb, 
tsni his eara : Bsd he aeeiaea h if be wu just falling from his mule, 
i^ieh donbtleM be must bare cbne, bad not he Uiti East bold of bis 
neck : but, noCwithstKBding that^ be lost faig stimips, aod then let n> 
Us bold; while the mole, oightOMd li the terrible stroke, beg«n to 
rnn about the field, snd at tvo or tíirte plongcs laid ber master flat 
OB the gmimi. Don Oainte stood hxiküig ob irith grot catnmess, 
■ndieem; binfaU,ho ie&ped from hit horMvitb mneh, agilitf nii 
op to hisL and cbiipiBg the point of bis sword to his cj^es, bid bun 
yi^, <» M Tonld out off his huuL The Bisecan was so atumied 
that ne opnld itot answer a word ; and it would We gone hu^i with 
him (so blinded with rage waa Dob Quixote) had not tEe ladies of the 
ooac^ who, till now had been witnenins lbs combat in great dismay, 
tvproaohed him, and oaneetly entieated that be wonld do them the 

néat kindncH and fañmr to span t)K life of their squire. Don 
Qaizoto answend, with mndi K^mmtr and graritj': Assuredly, 
finr ladies, I am moet willing to grant yon yonr raqneat, but it must 
be npon a certain ooedition and oompaot; which is, that this knigM 
shall pnmiiM to repair to the town of Toboso, and present bimselj^ 
fran me, hefon the pendesa Donna Dideinea, that slie may dispose 
of him Moording to ber pleasure." The terrified and discoDsolste 
lady, witkat aossideriiipwhat Don Quixote required, or inquiring 
who Dolcinea was, pronused him that ber squire should jierform what* 


BEiOBn this time, Sancho Panra bad got npon his legs, somewhat 
roogUy handled br the serrants oí the monks, and stood an attentive 
spectator during the combat of his masttr, Don Quixote ; beseeching 
God, in his heart, that he would be pleased to give him the victory, 
nd that be might hereby win some island, of which be miglit make 
Iñm go»emor, according to his promise. Now, seeing the conflict at 
an end, and that his master was ready to mount again upon Roiinante, 
be came up to bold his ttirrop ; but before he had mounted, fell upon 
his knees oefore him, then, tskine hold of his band, and kissing it, 
said to bim, " Be pleased, my lortT Don Quixote, to bestow upon me 
the EOTomment of that island which vou have won in this dreadful 
battle ; for, be it ever so bi«, I feel in myself ability sufficient to 

rem it as wall as the best that ever governed island m the world," 
which Don Quixote answered, "Consider, brother Sancho, that 
this adventure, and others of this nature, are not adventures of 
islands but ot croas-vravs, in which nothing is to be gained bnt • 
broken' bead, or the loss' of an ear. Have patience ; for adventure» 
will offer, whereby I may not only make tiiee a governor, but som» 

88 noir Quixon. 

thing fet gttsttrc." Sancbo returned him abandmce of thanks, and, 
kissuu; bis hand ftgfún, and the skirt of his armouTj he helped him 
to (cet upon Uozioante ; then, mountiiiK his hss, he followed bia 
master, vbo, goia^ off at a round pace, withoot taking his leave, or 
speaking to those in the ooach, immediatalr entered into an adjoining 

Saneho followed him as fast as his beast could trot ; bat Rozinants 
made such speed that, seeing himself left behind, he was forced to oaU 
aloud to his master to stay for him. Don Quixote did so, checking 
Boüinante bf the bridle, until his weary squire overtook him; who, 
as soon as he came near, said to him, " Methinks, sir, it would not b« 
amiss to retire to some church - for, considering in what condition 
you have left your adversary, I sbould not wonder if they give notice 
of the fact to the holy brotherhood, who may seize us ; and, in faith, 
if they do, before we get out of their clutches we may chance to sweat 
for it," " Peace," qnoth Don Quiiote; "for where hastthon evei 
seen or heard of a kiiight-errant bavins been brought before a court 
cf Justice, boivever numerous tlie homicides he may have committed P" 
" I know nothing of jour Omecils,'' answered Sanclio ; " nor in mx life 
ever cared about them ; only this I know, that the holy brotherhood 
have somethinK to sav to those who flgbt m the fields ; and as to the 
Other matter, I shall nave nothing to do with it." " Set thy heart si 
rest, friend." answered Don Quixot* ; " for I would deliver liiee out 
of the hands of the Chaldeans, much more out of those of tha holr 
brotherhood. But tell me, on thy life, hast thou ever seen a more 
valorous knight than I apon the whole face of the earth ? Hast thou 
read in history of any one who baa, or ever had, mwe apirit in Stack- 
ing, more breath in noldim; out, more dexterity in wounding, or mora 
address in overthrowing ? " The truth is," answered Saneho, "that 
I never read any hjst«nr at all ; for I can neither read nor write : but 
what I dare affirm is, that I have never served a bolder master than 
vonr worship, in all the days of my liie ; and pray God we may not 
be called to an account for this boldness, where 1 just now said, nliat 
I beg of your worship is, that you would let your woond be dressed, 
for a great deal of blood comes from that ear : and I have some lint, 
and a little white ointment, here in my wallet." " All this would have 
been needless," answered Don Quísote, " had I recollected to make 
a vini of the balsam of fierabrás ; for with one single drop of that, 
we might have saved both time and medicine." " What vial, and what 
hnlsam is that?" said Saneho Panza. "It ia a balsam," answered 
Don Quixote, " the receipt of which I hold in memory ; and he who 
possessci it need not fear death, nor ^iprehend that any wound will 
be f^l : theietbre, when I ahall have made it, and given it to thr 
care, all thou wilt have to do, when thou scest me in some battle cletl 

nicety, before toe blood is concealed, place it npon the other half that 
shall remain in the saddle, taking especial care lo make them tally 
exactly. Iben shalt thou give me two dinugfata only of tin balsam 

ward the government of the promised island ; and only di . , _ 
poi'ment of my many and gooa services, that yoar worship will give 
me the receipt of tlu* extraordinarj UqaoiifoiXdanBar it will any- 

Tbere tetcii mon thu two retís an oonoe , and I vant no Kore to 
past tbáa life with oedit and comfort. But I should be glad to know 
whether the making of it will cott much ? " " For less than Ifarea 
Mala thoa m^est make nine pints," anairered Dou Quiiote. " Sinner 
that I am ! " eielaiiiKd Sandio, " why does your worship dditr 
Baking itF" "Peace, friend," answered Don QuiioM; "for I 
intend to leach thee greater secrets, and to do tJÍoe greater kind- 
nesses : bnt at present, let ns set about the oure ; for my ear paiui 
ne more than 1 coold wish." 

Sancho took »ome lint and ointment ont of his wallet j bnt, when 
Dob Qaixote peroeired that his helmet was broken, he was ready to 
mnstarii maci; and, Ifninxhis hand on his Bword, and raising his eyes 
to heaven, he said : " Iswear, by the Creator of all things, ^d by all 
that b contained in the four kolv efangeliats, to lead liie life that the 
great marquis of Mantua led, when be Toved to reveille tlie death of 
Us nephew Valdovinos ; which was, not to eat bread on a talileclotli, 
nor again go home to his wife, and other things, which, thougli I do 
not now remember, I ctmsider as here eipreráod, until I have token 
entire veu^nance on him wlio hath done me this outrage ! " Sancho, 
bearinK this, said to him, " imy consider, Siimor ]>uii Quixote, that 
if the knight bos performed what was enioined upon him, nanidy, to 
go and present himself before my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he will 
ueQ have done his duty, and deservea no new punishment unless he 
commit a new crime." ITiou hast spoken and remarked very justly," 
•nawn^d Bon Quixote ; " and I annul the oath, so far aa concerns 
tbe taking a fresh rerenge ; but I make it, and confrmi it anew, as to 
leading the life 1 have mentioned, until 1 shall take by force, from 
iome knight, another heimet, eanally good. And think not, Sancho, 
that I am making a smoke of straw ; for I well know whose example 
1 shall follow ; Hnce precisely the same thing h^pened with regard 
to Mamfcnno's helmet, which oost Saoripante so dear." " I wish your 
worship would send such oaths to the devil," said Sancho, " for they 
■re verj hurtful to the health, aud prejudicial to the oonsoienca 
Beeidea, pny tell me, if pcrciuutce tor ntany days we should not light 
on a man armed with a helmet, what must we do theu? MiLit the 
oath be kept, is spite of so many dilficulties and inoonvenienoes, such 
as sleeping in your clothes, and not sleeping in any inhabited plac<L 
and a tliouaana other penances oontaioed in the oaui of that mad old 
leDow the marqitis of Mantua, which vour worship would now 
Rvive t CouideT, tliat none of these roaos are frequented br armed 
laen, but earricm and carters: who, so far from wearing helmets, 
perh^ never so mueb as heard of them in all their Uves." " Thou. 
art mistaken in this," said Bcai Qdhote ; " for before we shall have 
piased two hours in these cross-wBT?, we shall have seen more 
armed men than came to tbe siege ot Albraca, to carry off Angelica 
the Fair." "Well, then, he it so," quolh Sancho; "and Heaven 
grait Ds good success, and that we mar speedily get this island, 
vhicb oosts me ao dear ; no matter, then. Low soon I die." " I have 
already ttdd thee, Sancho, to give thyself no concern i^)on that account ; 
for, if an istud cannot be had, thore is the kingdom of Dcrrniork, or 
tiiatofSobradtBa,whichwillfittheelikcarinBtothefioger. Besides, aa 
they ars upon l^ffñvjírMt, thou shottldst prefer them. But let us leave 
ibis to its own time, and see if tbouhast anythiufcforuBtoeatm Iby 
Mist; weviUtlwngoinqneatof aame eakle, where we m^* lodge 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

S9 SOX qjnxoii. 

this ni^^ and make the balsam that I told theeof ;for IdecUiethat 

year pajus me exceedtngb." " I hate here an onion and a piece 
cheese ; dud I know not haw jaany crusts of bread," said Saacho; 
"butthejare not eatables fit for sovdianta knig-ht as yonrwor- 
■hip," "How little dost thou underetand of this matter!" answered 
Don Qniiote, " I till thee, Sancho, that it is honourable in knighla- 
erraut not to eat once in a month ; and, if the; do taste food, it mnst 
be what first oflers; and tbisthoawouldst have known hsdst thou read 
as many histories as I have done ; for, thoug-h 1 jiave perused many, I 
uerer ^et found in them any aooount of kniRhis-errant taking food, 
unless it were by chance, and at certain sumptuous banquets prepared 
expressly for them ; the rest of their days they lived, as it were, upon 
smelling. And tiiough it is to be presntneii they could not snlñist 
without eating and satisfying all other wants— as. in fact, they were 
men— vet, since ther passed most part of their lives in wandering 
througb forests ana deserts, and without a oook, their nsnal diet 
must have consisted of rustió viands, such as those which thou hast 
now offered me. Therefore, friend Sancho, let not that trouble tlieo 
vhidi eivcs me pleasure : nor endeavour to make a new world, or to 
throw Knight-eirautry oS its hinges." " Pardon me, sir," said San- 
cho ; " for, as I can neiiher read nor write, as I told yon before, 1 am 
entirely unacquainted with the mlee of tlie knightly profession : 
but, henceforward, I will furnish my wallet with ail sorts of dried 
fruits for your worelup, who are a knight ; and (or myself, who am 
none, I wul supply it with -poultry, and othin things of more sob- 
Stance." " I do not say, Sancho," replicd Don Quixote, " that 
knights-errant are obliged to eat nothing but tko dried fruits thou 
bast mentioned, but that such mas their ordinary snstenance, toge- 
ther with certain herbs they found in the fields, which were to 
them well known, as they are also to me." " It is a good thing 
to know these sama herbé," answered Sancho; "for I am inclined 
to think we shall one day have oocaaion to make nse of that 

He now bronght oat what provisions he hod, and ther ate toge- 
ther in a vcrypeooeable and fnendly manner. But, being desirous to 
•eek out some place wherein to rest that night, thev soon finished their 
poor and dry meal, and then made what liBst« they could to reach 
some village before night; hut both the sun and their hopes failed 
them uesr the huts of some goatherds. They determined, therefore, 
to lake UD their lodinn? with them ; but if Sancho was grieved that 
they could not reaca a village, his master was as much rejoiced to lie 
'in the Open a' " ' ..■!'. ,._... 

UignieUb, Google 


Of -altat Ufü Do» QmiraU vitk tie jaathmti. 

No one eonldbenwre kindly receiTed than was I>on Quixote l)yH» 
pjatherds ; and Sancho, having (iccommadated Roiinnnte and bis ass 
m the best manoer he was able, pnraued the odour emitted by certain 
nieces of pM't flesh Ibat wem boiliinf in a kettle on a fire; and, 
though he woold wiiliniflj', at that instant, have tried whether they 
*ere ready to be transferred from the kettle to the stomach, he for- 
bore doinK so, Bs the goatherds themselres took them olT the fire, 
Ukd. s^r«ndin? some sheepskins on the ground, very enecdily aerreJ 
tip thetf rural mess, and, with much cordiality, invited them both to 
part&ke of it. Six of them that belong to the fold seated them 
selves itniiid the skins, having hrst, mth rustic compliments, requested 
Don Qniiote to stat himself upon a trongh with the bottom iipwards. 
placed on parpóse for him. Don Qnixote sat down, and Sancho 
renuined stanain}? to serve the cup, which was made of horn. His 
master, seem? him standinjir, said to bini, " That thou mayest see the 
intriasic worth of knight-enaotry, and how speedily those who exercise 
my ministry whatsoever belonging to it tnav attain honour and 
estimation in tha world, it is my will tliat thou M seated here hv my 
áde, in company with these ftood people, and become one ana the 
same thinir with me, who am thy master and natural lord ; that thoa 
eat from oti my plate, and drink of the ssme cup from which I drink ; 
for the same may be said of knight-enautry which is said of lovo, 
that it makes all things equal." " I give you a grent many thanks, 
sir," said Sancho: ''bat let me tell your worship that, provided I 
have victnali enon^ I can eat as well, or better, standing, and alone, 
than if I weie »eat«i close by an emperor. And, farther, to tell you 
the truth, what I eat in a comer, without romphmenta and cere- 
monies, tnongh it were nothing but bread and an onion, relishes 
better than tui^eys at other men's tabke, where I am forcea to chew 
leisurely, drink Uttle, wipe my month often, neilhcr sneeze nor coiuiii 
when I nave a mind, nor do other things which may be done when 
alone and at liberty. So tbat, good sir, let these hononis which your 
warship is pleased to confer npon me, as a servant, and adherent of 
knight -errsintry (being squire to your worship), be enchaneed for 
something of more use and profit to me : for, though I place ibera to 
account, as received in full, I renounce them from this time forward 
to the end of the world." " Notwithstanding this," said Don Qtiiiot«, 
"thoa slutlt sit down- for whosoever humbleth himself, Qod doth 
eialt;" and, pollina: hun by the arm, he forced him to sit down next 
him. The goatherds did not understand this jargon of squires and 
imiahts-emat, and therefore only ate, held their peace, and stared at 
their guests; who, with mneh satisfaction and appetite, swallowed 
down piece» as Iwie as their fists. The service of flesh being flnisbeil 
they spread npon the akins a (freat ouantity of acorns, togetter with 
bu a ahecae, hatdet Uum if it had been made of mortar. The hont 
,, .A.OOgIC 

40 JíOS QinxOTE. 

in the mean time stood not idle ; for it went roimd so often, now full, 
now empty, like the bucket of a well, that they presently emptied one 
of the two wine-baps that hnng in riew. After Don Quixote had 
satisfied bis hunger, he look up a hEtndful of acorns, and, looLng on 
them attentively, gave utterance to expressions like these : — 

"Happy times, and happy iu(es, were those which the ancient* 
tinned tiie Golden Age ! not hecause gold, so prized in this our iron 
age, was (o be obt*incd. in that fortunate penod, without toil ; but 
because thev who thfn lived were ifrnorant of those two words. Mine 
and Thine. In that blessed age, all thinp were in common; to provide 
their oTdinary susteoancc, no Other labour was necessary thaa to 
raise their hands and take it from the sturdy oaks, which stood 
Lberally inviting them to taste their sweet and relishing fruit. The 
limpid fountains and mnnii^ streams offered them, in magnificent 
abundance, their delicious and transjiarcnt waters. In the clefts of 
rocks, and in hollow trees, the industrious and provident bees formed 
their commonwealths, offering to everj' hand, without interest, the 
fertilp produce of their most delicious toil. The stately cork-ftees, 
impelled by their own courtesy alouc, divested themselves of their 
lignt and expanded bark, with which men beeao to cover their 
houses, supported by rougii tiolcs, only as a dcfenw; again-st the 
inclemency of the heavens. All then was peace, all amity, all ooo- 
cord. Tlie heavy coulter of the crooked plough bad not vet dared to 
force open and search into the tender bowels of our first motiier, 
who, unconstrained, offered, from every part of her fertile and spacious 
bosom, whatever might feed, sustain, and deligiit those, her ehjldren, 
by whom she was then possessed. Then did the simple and beantcoua 
young shepherdesses trip from dale to dale, and from hiE to hill, their 
trfsscs sometimes plaited, sometimes loosely flowinit, with no more 
eiotliing than was necessarv modestly to cover what modesty has 
always required to be concealed ; nor were their ornaments like those 
now in fashion, to which a value is given by the TjTian purple and 
the silk so many ways martyred ; but, adorned with irreeii dock-leaves 
and ivy interwoven, perhaps they appeared as splendidly and elegantly 
decked as our oourt-ladies, with all those rare and foreign inventions 
which idle curiosity hath taupht tlicm. Then were the amorous con- 
ceptions of the soul clothed in simple and sincere expressions, in tbo 
same way and manner tbcy were conceived, without seeking nrtilicial 
phrases to enhance their value. _ Ñor had fraud, deceit, and uitdice 
intermixed with truth and plain-dealing. Justice maintained her 
proper bounds, undisturbed and unassailed by fitvour and interest, 
which now so much depreciate, molest, and persecute her. Law was 
not yet left to the inteniretation of the judge; for then there was 
neither cause nor judge. Mnidcns and modesty, asl said before, went 
about alone, without feat of danger from the unbridled freedom and 
lewd designs of others; and, if they were undone, it was entirely 
owing to tneir own natural inclination and will. But now, in these 
dkteslable ages of ours, no damsel is secure, f hoi^h she were hidden 
and inclosed in another Inbj-rinth like that of Crete ; for even tliere, 
throngb some cranny, or through the air, by the zeal of cursed iinpor- 
tunitv, the amorous pestilence finds entrance, and they are there 
wrecked in spite of all seclusion. Therefore, as times became worse, 
end wickedness increased, to defend maidens, to protect widows, and 
to relieve orphans and persons distreesed, the order of knight-ertautt; 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

«DTEirrcBi vm tbx ooateeods. 

_ie without being aware oí tlus obligatiun, it ia bat reasonable that 
1 should rctnm joo my wnnnest acltnowledirnienU." 

Our knight made this loi^ taanm^ue (which might well havct been 
mared). because the acorns the; had put before him reminded liim of 
tlio goldeii Hge, and led him to make that unprofilahle discourse to 
the goatherds : who, in astonishment, listened to him, without saving 
a word. Sancho also was silent, devourins the aoums, and makiug 
fregaent Tisits to the second wioe-bag, which was hanciug upon a 
eOTX-tree, in order to keep the wine cod. * 

I)oaQniiot« spent more time iu ticking than in eating, and, supper 
being aver, one of the goatherds said, "That joai worship, signar 
fau^t-srant, ma; the more tml^ say that we cuiertain vou with a 
readf good-will, one of our comrades, wlio will soon be here, shall 
sine for yoat pleasure and amusement. He is a very intelligent lad, 
and deeply enamoured ; aborc all, he can read and write, and play 
upon the rebeck as weli as lieMi can desire." The goBlhcril naa 
scarcely said this when the sound of the rebeck niached their ears, 
and, presently after, eame the musioian, who was a youth of an 
agreeable mien, about two-and-twenty years of age. His comrades 
au^ him if he had supped ; and he having answered in the affiruia* 
tive, one of them said, If so, Antonio, you may let us have the plea- 
sure of hearina yon sing a little, tkit tins gentleman, our guest, may 
see, that even here, among woods and mountains, there are some who 
are skilled in music. We have told him of your great abilities, and 
irish von to show títem, and prove the truth of what we have said ¡ 
and therefore I entreat von io sit down, and sing the ballad of your 
lore, which your uncle, the curate, composed for vou, and which was 
■o well likod in onr village." " With fjl my heart," replied the 
jonth ; and, without further entreatv, he sat down upon the trunk of 
•n old oak, and, after tuning bis rebeck, he began to aing in a moat 
agreeable nuiiner, as follows : — 


" Yes, lovely nymph, tbou art my prise ; 
1 txnst tha coDqncet oi thy boart, 
Though Dor the tongue, nor qwaklng eyo. 
Have yet reveal'd the latont smart. 

Thy wit and sonso aasure my bt^ 

In tliflm my lovo's success I see ; 
Kor con be be utilbnuniito 

Who dares svoir hia Uame &r Ihea. 

It thou frovn'd, alas 1 

And givea my hopes a omel uhook ; % 

Then did thy soul seem lorm'd of brass. 

Thy snowy bosom of tiie rock. ^ 

But in the midrt of thy dlsdun. 

Thy sbsrp reja-ooches, cold delays, 
Hope fhim Mund, to «aae my pain. 

The border of herrolM di^lays. 


If love, SI ahaphardi want to sa7. 

Be gmtlaiGaH nod courWsr, 

My pauioD will rewarded h». 

And if obseqnioni dutj pnid. 

The gratoful hairt can navor move. 
Mine sure, my &ir, mar well persuade 

A due iMurn, end claim thy love. 
Por, to leem plonslng in thy sight, 

I dnaa myself with studium core, 
And, in mv beat epjjnrel dight, 

H; Sunda; clothea on Munday wear. 
And sbcpbcnla «ay I'm not too blani^ 

For cloanly ilross uiid spruce attire 
Preserve alii'e love's wnnUin flnmo. 

And geotly Jan the dying fire. 
To please my &ir, in MMiy ring 

I join the dAneo, and aportiie play ; 
And ott beneath thy winüoír ling, 

WhBD firat the cocli proclain» iba day. 
With rnpture oD each charm I dwell, 

And aBily ifrtad thy lieauty's fame : 
And sLill my tonguo thy praiso shall tall. 

Though euTy «well, or inaUoe blame. 
Terem of tbe Berrocal. 

WbsD onco I pmlsoil ymi, said in sptto, 
Vour mistress yon an an^rel call, 

But a mere apt Is your dcliffht. 
Thante to tho bUE-lo'a artfid chre, 

And all the graces counterfeit ; 
Thanks to tie felie and curlftl hair. 

Which wary Love himself might cheat. 
I swore 'twas faina ; and said she bed ; 

At that her anper Hercclv rose ; 
I boi'd tho clown that took her side. 

And how I box'd my fairest knows. 

I court thee not, Olalia, 

To graliiy a loose desire ; 
Hy love b chaste, without alloy 

Of wanton wish, or luatfiil fire. 
The church luuh silken chorda, tliat na 

Consaudng hearts in mutual bnnda : 
If thou, Diy CUT, it* yi^e wilt try. 

Thy iwain its ready ca)>tive Mandi. 
If not, by all the aahila ! swear 

Oa these bleak moon tains Mill to dwell, 
Kor ever quit my toUaomi care, 

But for tbe oloiitor and tlie aeU." 

. I, Google 

Hete ayiei Üte «MUMffd*! aov, ud Pon Qaixote Ki]iiest«d bini 
to nug sometliias ebe ; bat Suh^ Panza vss of mother mÍDcl,beÍii^ 
iDMe ai^osed lo ilaep than to hear bailada ; be therefore «aid to hn 
maater. Sir, ymi bad better consider where jon are to nat to-nij^t ; 
Ibr the labour vhich tbeae bmest imai audereo all day «ill not Buffer 
them to paaa the ni^t in singing." " I tutderataDd thee, Sancha" 
insvered Dod Qnixote ; " for it is Tenerident that TÍ£Íts to the 
wine-bag require to be naid rather with sleep than mnsio." " It 
Teliahed well with oa all, Uessed be God," answered Sandio. "'' ' 

not deny it," replied Don Quinóte; "my thvself down where thou 
wilt, but it ti more becoming those of mf profeasion to watch than to 
sleep. Howerer, it would not be amiw, Sancho, if thon wouldit 
drees this ear a^ain; for it puna me more tban it ooght." Sancha 
did as he was desiroi ; and one of the goatljerds seeing the wound, 
bade him not be concenied about it, for he would apply such aremedy 
as should qnickly heal it ; then taking some rosemai^-leavcs, which 
■bounded in that place, he chewed th^ ru. and mixed with them a little 
pit, and, lajiuB them to the ear, bound them on venr fast, assuring 
htoi tiiat no other salre would be necessary, wbich iaaeed proved to 


Wl^ a etrtai» goalkeid rttatMJ to Aou wAa leen itiA Do» Qitixolt. 

Soon after this there anired another young tad, laden with pro- 
TÍsions from the villas i " Comrades," said he. "do you know what 

is passing in tbe village?" "How should we knowF" answered one 
of then). " Know then," continued the youth, " that the famous shep- 
herd and scholar, Chirsoslom, died this mormng ; and it is rumoured 
tbat il was for lore of that deriiisb girl MarceK daughter of William 
the rich ; she who rambles about these woods and fields in the dress 
otashepherdess." "For Marcela; say you?" quoth one. "For her, 
I say," answered the goatherd: "and the beet of it is, he has ordered 
m his will that they should bury him in the fields, like a Moor, at the 
foot of Üie rock, by the cork-tree fountain, which, according to report, 
and, as they say, he himself declared was the very place where he 
fitst saw her. He ordered also other things so extravii^nt that the 
clergy say they must not be performed ■ nor is it fit that they should, 
for they seem to be heathenish. But his great friend Ambrosio, the 
atadent, who acoompauicd bim, dressed also hke a shepherd, declares 
that the whole of what Chrrsostom enjoined shall be eiecuted : and 
upon this the village is w in an uproar : but hr what I con (earn, 
they will at last do what Ambrosio and all his mends require ¡ and 
ttvmorrow they come to inter him, with great solemnity, in the place 
I mentioned ; and, in my opinion, it will be a sight well worth aee- 
il^ ; at least, I shall not fail to go, ahhouEh I were certain of not 
returning to-morrow to the village." "We will do the same," 
answered the goatherds ; " and let us cast lots who shall stay behind, 
to loci after the goato." " Yon say well^ Pedro," quoth another : 
^bnt it will be needless to make use of this exiwdient, for I will 
,, .A.OOgIC 

U i»OK qnizoiz. 

remain for yon &11 ; and do not attribnta tbis to lelf-denMl or want of 
cmioaitT ia me, but to the thoTD which stack into n^ foot the other 
dor, ana hinden me from welkiag." " We thank you, uevertheleas," 

answered Pedro. 

]>on Quixote reqnestcd Pedro to give him some aeconnt of the 
deceased mitoand tiie sbepherdeas. To which Pedro answered, "that 
all be knew was that the deceased was a wealthy gentlemni, and 
inhabitant of avillane aitnate among tliese mountains, who bod studied 
many vean at Salamuica; at the end of which time he rctomed home, 
with the olunkcter of a rery learned and well-read pemm : particu- 
Inrljr, it was said, he understood thescience of the st^,and wnit the 
Bun and moon are doing in the sky; for be told us punctually the 
dipee of the aun and moon." " friend," aaotli Dun Quixote, the 
obscuration of those two luminaries is called an eclipse, and not a 
c)i])se." Bnt Pedro, not regarding nioeties, went on with his story, 
(toying, " He also foretold when the year would be plentiful oratarel. 
"ótenle, you would say, friend," quoth Boo Qunote. "Sterile or 
Btorel," answered Pedro, " oomes all to tie same thing. And, as I 
wa« saying, Jiis father and friends, who ftsve credit to his w<»ds, 
becaoie very rieh thereby ; for they followed his advice in eTcrything. 

oil; the three following, there will not be adn:^." "lliis si 
they call Astrology," said Bon Quiioto. "I know not how it is 
called," replied Pcaro, " but 1 know that he knew idl this, and more 
too. In short, not many months after he came from Salamonoa, on a 
certain da^ be ^ipeored dressed like a shepherd, with his crook and 
sheepskin jacket, having thrown aside his scholar's gown ; andw' 

and the reKgions plays for Corpus Chriati, which the boys of the vil- 
lage represented: ajid evcrvbody said they wci« nKist excdlent. 
When the people of the village saw the two scholais K> luddenly 
habited like shepherds, they were amazed, and could not get at the 
cause thnt induced them to make that strange alteration in their dresa. 
About this time the father of Chrysostom died, and he inherited a 
lai^ estate, in lands and goods, flocks, herds, and money, of all which 
the roitth remained absolute master ; and, indeed, he <frserved it oU, 
for he waa a very good companion, a charitable man, and a ñ^d to 
those that were good, and had a face like any blessing. Afterwards 
it cAme to be known that he changed his habit for no other purpose 
but that he might wander about tiiese desert placee after that shep- 
herdess MaroeltL, Mdth whom, as our lad told you, he was in love. 
And I will now tell yoa (for it is fit you should know) who this yoong 
slut ia ; for, perh^ts, and even without a perhaps, yon may never 
have heud the like in all the days of ^our life, thnugn you wereaa old 
as Samo." " Sarah, you mean," replied Doa Quixote, not being able 
to endure the goatherd's mistaking words. " Sarna will do," answered 
Pedro ; " and, sir, if yon must at every turn be oorrwrtiiig my words. 

"I «t>r then, dear sir of my soul," quoth the g<oati>a(l, " that, la 
onr Tillaáe, tfañe tbs a &rmer Kill ñehex thsn the fetber oí ChiTsos- 
tam, oiJIea William ; on whom Frovidence bestowed, besidee great 
vealth, a daagbter, whose mother, the must respected woiDin m all 
our ootmtiT, oieti in girin^ her birth — I think I see her now, with 
that Koodir presence, looking as if she had the aun on one side of her 
«ad uie moon on the other : and, above alL sbe waa a notable house- 
wife, and a friend to the poor : for which I beberé her sool is at this 
very moment in heaven. Her husltand William died for grief at the 
death of ao good a wife, leaving bis daughter Marcela, young and rich, 
«nder the care of an uncle, a prieEt, aud the mírate of our villai^. 
TSie girl grew up with so much beauty, that it put na in mind <rf her 
mother, who had a great sbar^ yet it wasthongiit that the dau^ter 
would surpass her ; and so it fell out ; for when she came to be four- 
teen or fifteen years of i^e, nobody beheld her without blessing Ood 
for making her so handsome, and most men were in love with, asd 
ddstracted for her. Her uncle kept her both carefully and close : 
nevertheless, the fame of her extraordinary beauty so spread itself 
that, pKtlj for her person, partly for her great riches, her nnolc waa 
^iphed to, solicited, aud iiuportuoed, not only bv tltose of our own 
vüUga but by many othu^ and those of the oetter sort, too, for 
Bevenu le^ee round, to dispose of bur in marriage. Sut he, who, 
to do him juatice, is a good Christian, though he was desirous of dis* 
posing of her as soon as she waa maniageablc, yet would not do it 
without her twnaent. Not that he had an eye to any advantage he 
might make of the girl's estate by defeTring her marriage ; and, in. 
good truth, this has been told in praise of the good priest in more 
DODi^iaiiiefl than one in our TÜlage. For I would have you to know, 
nr-errant, that, in these little places, everrthing is talked of, ana 
tverythiDg censured- And, take my word tor it, that a clergyman, 
cspeoiall; in oonntry towns, must be over and above good who makes 
allhis ponshiouers apeak well of hun." 

" That is true," said I>oii Quixote : " but proceed, for the story is 
excellent ; and yon, honest Fedro, tell it with a good grace." " Ma; 
the grace of tho Lord never fail me I which is most to the purpose. 
And yon must further know," quoth Pedro, "that, thongh (he uncle 
made tbeee proposals known to his niece, and acmtainted her with the 
qualities of each one in particular, of the many that sought her hand, 
adrising her also to many and choose to her liking, her only answei 
was ÜtÁ she was not ao disposed at present, and that, being so young, 
■he did not lea iierself able to bear the burden of matrimony. Uer 
onde, aatósSed with these seemingly just excuse», ceased to importune 
her, and widted till she ven grown a little older, vhen she would 
ksow how to chooeo a companion to her tuate. Fur, said he—and ha 
taid well — parents ought not to settle their children against their will. 
But) behold 1 when we least thought of it, on a certain day the coy 
Ifwréda appears a sliepherde^. aud, without the oonsent of her uncle, 
■nd against the eutrcatiea of all the neighbours, would needs go into 
the fidds, with the other country bases, and tend her own flock. 
And now that she appeared in pnblic, aud her beauty was exposed to 
■11 beholders, it is impossible to tell you how many wealthy youths, 
1, and farmers, have taken the shepherd's dress, and winder 

^ont these pUins, makmg their suit to her. Une of whom, as tdu 
hwe already beea told, was the deceased ; and he, it is said, rather 

herself np to this &«« and imconflned w&y (rf lire, ood witb sc , .. 

ntber no reserre, she has gires the lea^t colour of easpicion to the 
prejudice of her modesty and discretion : no : rather, so great and 
strict is the iratoh she keeps over her honour, that of all those irho 
serve and solicit her, no one baa boasted, or can boast vith truth, that 
she has givea him the least hope of obtaining his wishes. For. thoagh 
she does not fly or sbuo tbe compan; and conversation of the shep- 
herds, but treats tbem io a coorteons and frieiidl}' manner, yet, when 
any one of them Tentares to discoTcr his intention, though it be 
as iost and holy as that of marriafe, she casts him from her as out of 
a slone-boTT. And by tbia sort of behaviour she does more mischief 

■od inolÍBe them to serve and love her ; but her disdain and frank 
deling drive them to despair; and so they know not «hat to say to 
her, and can only eicUim against her, calbni her cruel and ungrate- 
ful, with sacfa other titles as plainly denote ber charw^ter ; and, were 
you to abide bere, air, awhile, ^ou would hear these mountains and 
TalJey* resound with the complaints of tbose rejected wretches that 
yet follow her. Ther« is a place not far bence^ where about two dozen 
d tall beeches grow, and not one of theni is without the name of 
Mareda written and enisraved on its smooth baric ; oversome of them 
is carved a crown, as if the lover would more ciearlv «press that 
Marcela deserves Ñid wean the crown of M human Waty. Here 
sighs one shepherd; there complains another; here are heard amoroiu 
Bonneta, there desiunring ditties. One will pass all the boors of the 
night seated at the foot of some rock or tree, where, without having 
dosed his weeping eyes wrapped up and lost m Ihonght, the sun finda 
him in the morning ; wiiilst another, giviog no tmce to his sighs, lies 
Bizetehed on the bnrtiing sand in the midst of the most sultry noon- 
day heat of sommer, sending np his complaints to all-pitying Heaven. 
hi the mean time, the beautiful Marcela, free and nnconcemed, 
triumphs over them all. We who know her wait with impatience to 
see hew all this will end, and who is to be tbe happy man that shall 
subdoe ao intractable a disposition, and enjoy so incomparable a 
beauty. As all that 1 haverelated is certain truth, I can more readily 
believe what our companion told na concemins the cause of Chrysoe- 
tom's death; and therefore I advise you, sir, not to fail being to- 
morrow at his funeral, which will be very well worlh seeing: for 
Chrysostom has a great many friends ; and it is not half a let^e 
henoe to the place of interment appointed by himself," 

" I will certainly be there," said Don Quixote " and I thank you 
for the pleasure yon have given me by the rocilal of so entertaining 
a story. " 0," replied the goatherd, " I do not yet know half the 
adventures of Marcela's lovers; but to-morrow, perhaps, we shall 
meet by the way with some sbcplterd, who may toll us more ; at pre- 
sent it will not be amiss for you to go and sleep under some roof, fot 
tbe cold dew of tbe nigbt may do harm to your wound, thon^h the 
salve I have put to it is Eucb that you need not fear any trouble from 
it." i^ncbo I'ansa, who, for his part, had wished this long-winded 
tale of tbe goathcrii at tlio devil, pressed his mailer to lay bimiplf 
down to sleep in Pedro's hut. Heaidso, and passed the rest of the 
night thinking of his lady Dulcinea in imitation of tbe luTcn d 



||«Tnfla Sucho took np his loágiiur between Rosiiuuite tad faú rs^ 
-where he slept, not Uks k diswnled lover, Imt like s num who hsd 
bectt giievonjsly kicked. 


MoRHiBG aetnáj had dawned throngh the bslmmies (rf the east, 
when flve of the six goatherds ^ up and went to swaka Don 
Quixote, whom they aiked whether he oontinned in his leEolutini of 
going to see the foBunu interment of Cbrrioitom ; for, if so, they 
vonlo bear him oompuir. D<hi Qoixote, who denied nothing more, 
nose, aod ordered Ssncao to saddle and pamiel immediateU : which 
he did with great expedition ; and with the same despaton thej all 
set out OB their josraey. 

The; had not gone a quarter of a league, when, upon crossing a 
pathway, they saw ail sheph«ds advanoiiw towuds tbem, elad in 
jadceta of hiack sheepsktn, with garlands ot cyprcss and bitter rose- 
mary on their bead» i each of them hiTing in his hand a thick holly 
dub. There came also witb tbem two Bentlemen on horseback, weU 
equipped for trarelling, who were attended by three lacqneys on foot, 
n heu the two putiea met, tbey oonrteously saluted each otJier, and 
finding upon inquiry tbat aSl were piooeeding lo the [dace of bnrial, 
the» continued uieii joumay together. 

One of the horsenvo, addressing bis companion, said, " I think, 
SigDor Vivaldo, we shall not repent havinp stayed to see this famoua 
interment', for, «ithoat doubt, It will be an extraordinary ^ight, 
aecordhig to tbe strange accounU tbeae shepherds hare eiven oa of 
the deceased sbepberd and ninrdering shepherdess." " I think so, 
too," answered Vivaldo; "and so far from regretting the delay of 
tHte day I would stay fonr to see it." Don Quixote asked them what 
they had heard of Marcela and Cbrysoatom f Tlie trareller said they 
bad met those sheplierds earl^ in tlie morning, and that, obstrring tbeir 
moomfui apparel, they bad inquired tite oausp, and were informed of 
it by one of tbem, who told tbem of the beauty and singularity of a 
certain shepherdess, callrd Marceht, and the loves of many that wooed 
her; with the death of Cbrvsoatom, to whose bnrial tbey were going. 
Id fine, be related all that Pedro had told Don Quixols. 

This discourse ceased, and another beftan, by Vivaldo askiag Don 
Quixote what minht be the reason that induced bim to go armed, in 
that manner, throueh a country so peaceable? To which 'Doa 
Quixote answered: The profession I fellow will not allow or suffer 
me to go in any other manner. Revels, banquets, and repose, were 
invented for eñeminaje courtiers; bat toil, disquietude, and arras 
alone were designed for those whom the world calla knighls^jmint, 
of which number I, Ibongb nnworthy, am tlie least." Aa soon as they 
heard ihis, theydl perceived his derangement, but, in order to dis- 
DOTer the UAtore of his madness, Vivaldo asked him what he meant 

by knights-ernuit. " Have you not rend, Mr," ausvered Don 

Ouhate, " tbe aonab and Uistoriea of England, vhereia nie recorded 
tne fniuous expluits of King Arlliur, whom, in our Costilian ton^e, 
TFe peTiietuall^ called Kin; Artus F of vbom there exists an Bn<^ient 
traailion, uuivcrsally received oyer the whole kingdom of Great 
Brituiu, that he did sot die. but that, by mwic art, he was tnuis- 
fonued into a taven; and toat, in proeeas of time, he ihsU reign 
again, aiid recover hia kingdom and sceptre ; for which reason it 
cannot be proved that, from that IJlne to this, any EnelishniRn hatli 
killed a raven. Now, in this «ood kiiw'» time was instituted that 
renowned order of chivalry, entitled the Knifhts of the Hound Table ; 
and the amours related of Sir Lancelot of the Lake with the Queen 
GincbiB passed einctl^ as they are recorded: that honourable duenna 
Quiutauiona being their mtdialric and confidante : whence originated 
inat well-known ballad, so much admired here in Spain. 'Never was 
knight by ladies so well served as was Sir Lancelot wW he c«me 
from Britain :* with the rest of that sweet and cLaxming account of 
his amours and expbits. Kow, from that time, the order of ehivKlry 
has been eiteudiiig and spreading itself throngh many and divers 
parts of (be world ; and among those of the profession distinguished 
and renowned for heroic deeds was the valiant Amadia de Gaul, with 
all bis sotts and grandsons, to the fifth generation : the valorous 
Felixmarte of Uyrcania : and tlie never-enougb-to-be-praised Tirante 
the White : nay, even almost in our own tines, we have seen, heard, 
and conversed with, the invincible and valoróos knight Don Belianis 
of Greece. This, gentlemen, it is to be a kni^rhtOTTuat ; and the order 
of chivalry is what I have described. To this order, as I said before, 
1, fhotigh a sinner, have devoted miself ; and iha same which those 
knights profess, do I prcJcss also : therefore am I trareUing through 
these solitudes and deserts in quest of adventures, witb a determined 
resolution to cfipose my arm and my peraon to Ae most perilous that 
fon.une may present, in aid of the weak and opptMsed." 

By this discourse the travellers wure fiilt oonvinoed of tí» dis- 
ordered state of Don Quixote's mind ; and tbe species of insanity 
with which tbey perceii^ kim to be affected struck thorn with the 
same surprise that all felt upon first discovering it. Vivaldo, who 
was a man of discernment, and withal of a gay dispoution, to enliven 
the remainder of their journey to the faneral moantain, resolved to 
give him an opportunity of pucsning his ertracagant diaoonrae. He 
therefore saii U> him, In my opinion, sir knight^nant, vou have 
enj^agcd in one of the moat austere profeasiona upon eartn ; more 
rigid even tlian that of the Carthosian monks." " That order of 
monks may be as rigid," answered Don Quixote; " bnt that it is 
equally necessary to tlie world 1 am much mdincd to doubt ; for, to 
say the truth, the soldier who executes his captain's orders does no 
less than the (sptain himself, who gives him the orders. I would 
say that tLe religious order, in peace and trannuillitr, implore Heaven 
for the good of Uie world ; but we soldiers and knights really execute 
what they pray for, defending it with tbe strength of our arms and 
the ed^ of our awords ; not uader covot, but in open Geld ; expoeed 
to the mtolcrable beams of the summer'a ami, and tbe chilKng frosts 
of winter. Thus we are iteaven'a ministera upon earth, and the arms 
bv which Qod eiecutee his justice. And as the affana of war, and 
tbose appertaining to it, Eannot be put in esecution without toil, paiiv 



and Isbcnir, «o tiity vho ptofesa it nrast, onqnestionably, endure more 
Ulan those wbo, m peace and repose, are employed m praying to 
Heaven to asaiat tbem, and who can do hat little for tbemaelvea. I 
mean not to say, nor do I entertain onch a thoaght, that the stnte of 
tlie koight-emnt ii as good as that of the relizions recluse : I ^Fould 
only inier, from vhat I safer, tbat it ia, doabtless, more lahoiioua, 
'hiraty. more wretched, more 

doiotbut that the knights- 

m the course of their lives; it some of 

-,..,» by the valour of tlietr arms, in good 

trntít thev paid deaHy for it in blood and sweat : and, after all, 
had they oeen without the assistance of enchantera and s&sn, their 
bopes would have been fruatnit«d and their wishes unaf tained. 

I am of the same opinion," replied the traveller ; " but one thin?, 
among many others which ^pear to me to be censurable in knigliia* 
errant, is that, when they are prepared to engase in some great and 
perilous aftventtue, to the manilest hazard of their lives, at the 
Bumeul of attack they never think of commending themselves to 
Ood, as everj (Anstiau is bound to do at snch a crisis, but rather 
oonnnead themadTea to their mistresses, and that with as umch 
fervonr rad devotion as if they were really their Goti : a thimr which, 
to me, savoiua of pagaaiam." " Signor," answered Don Quixote, 
"this oaB by m nteans be otherwise; and the knisht-errant who 
should act in any other manaer would digress much tnm his duty : 
fw it it a noeived nazim and custom in chivalry, that the knigbt- 
enaat, who, on 1^_ pcont of engaging in some great feat of anna, hna 
faiB lady before hini, must tnm hia eyes fondly and amorouslr 
towards bar, as if impIarÍDg her favour and protection in the hozara- 
ons enterprise that awaits him; and, even if nobody hear him, he 

L __ 1- 1 — 1 l:- i„.L 1 ijjpjj jjg g — 

nemblé examptes in history. Ñor is it thence t^ be inferred tliat 
Úej DBKlect conunaiding tnemsdres to God : for there is time and 
Mpwtnnity enongh to do it in the conrae of the action." " Not- 
irt fliriMiling all tbat," replied the traveller, " I have oue scrapie still 
ramainiñgilor I have often read that, words rising between two 
faiight«-onnt, and choler beginning to kindle in tSem both, they 
tnm llieir borm round, and^ taking a taq^ compass nbont the field, 
JDunedialelf owonnter at fall apeeti; and, in the midst of their career, 
commenduiaiiselvefl to their mistresses: what commonly happens in 
the enoouBter is, tbat ooe of them tnmbles beck over his horse's 
emnper, pieiced tbrongh and thronrii by hia adversary's lance ; and 
if the otíúr had not laid hold of bis norae's mane be must have fallen 
to the ground ; — now I etumot imagine what leisure the deceased had 
to Gcmmend himself to Ood, in the courae of so expeditious a work. 
Better had it been if the words he spent in commending himself to 
his lady, in Uie midst of the eareer. had been employed as the duties 
<tf aOiriatiaii reqnite; partienlarly as I imagine tiiat aQknights- 
enant have not ladiea to oommena themadves to; because they are 
not all in lore." "^ñtatounot be," anawered DonQaiiote: "I say 
Uiere cannot be k Imi^it-emiit witbost a nistreaa : &r it is as esscu- 
tial ai^ as natural for them to be enamoured ea for the skv to have 
ftan : wid, moat nertainly, no history exiats in which a knight-ensnt 
is to be íanivl yritiemt an amonr : for, üom ti» very dienmstance oí 
,, .A.OOgIC 

his beins vithont, he ^rould not be acknowledged u a 'l^titimale 
Iniigiit, DQt a bastard vho bad entered the fortress of ebivalrr, not bj 
the rate, but over the paJes, like a thief and robber." "Nerertbe- 
les»," said the traYellcr, " " ' . ■ - . . , . - 

^ "--' Don Galaor, L ._ .._ ._. 

Í articular mistresa, to wbom he ii_„ 
lug which, he waa no lesa esteemed, buu wu • -oi/ 
vahant and íamous knighi." To which our Don Quixote answered ; 
" Signer, one swallow makes not a summer. Moreover, I know ttiat 
Don Galaor was in secret Tcry deeply enamoured, besides llie fteneral 
love that be entertained towards all whom he tboo^ht handsome ; a 
pronensitj natural to him, and which he was unable to control. But, 
m abort, it ia well ascertained tbat there was one whom he had made 
mistresa of his devotion, and to whom he often commended himself, 
but Tcrj; secretly ; for ujwn this quality of secrecy he espeoial^f 
▼alned himself." 

" If it is essential that every Imight-errant be a lover," said the 
traveller, " it may well be presumed tbat you are yourself one, being 
of the profession; and, if yon do not pique yourself upon the same 
secrecy as Don OaUor, I earnestly entreat yon, in the name of all 
this good company, and in mj own, to tell ns the name, country, 
quality, and b^uty of your mistress, who caonot but account her- 
self bappy that all the world should know that ahc is loved and 
served Dv so worthy a knight." Here Don Quixote breathed a deep 
eigb, ana said : " I cannot positivelv affirm whether that sweet enemy 
of mine is pleased or not that the world should know 1 am het 
servant : I can only say, in answer to what yon so very courte- 
ously inquire of me, that her name is Dulcinea ; her country Toboso, 
a town of La Mancha; her qnalitv at least th^ of a princess, since 
alie ia my queen and sovereiñi lady; her beauty more than liuman, 
since in her all the imposible and ebimerical attributes of beauty 
which the poets ascribe io their mistresses are realised : for her hair 
B gold, her forehead the Slysian field», her eyebrows rainbows, het 

S^B BUDS, here cheeks roses, her lips coial, her teeth pearls, her oeck 
baater, her bosom marble, ber hands ÍV017, her wbit¿ieB3 snow; and 
her whole person without parsllel." 

" We would fain know, replied Vivaldo, " her linear mx. and 
family." To which Don Quixote answered ; " She is not of the 
ancient Roman Curtü. Caii, or the Sciptos, nor of the modem (3olon- 
nas or Ursints ; nor of the Moneadas and Reqnesenes of Catalonia ; 
neither is she of the Rebellas and Villauovas of Yaientia ; the Pala- 
foxcs, Nuzas, Bocabertes, Corellas, Luna^ Alagones, Urreas, Fozes, 
and Gurreas of Arragon ; the Cerdas, Manriques, Mendozaa, and 
Guzmans of Castile; the Alencaatros, Pallas and Menesea of Por- 
tugal : hut she ia of those of Tobrao de la Mancha ; a lineajre, 
though modem, is yet such as may give a noble bMinoing to the 
most illustrious families of future a^; and in this let no one con- 
tradict me, unless it be on the conditions that Zerbino fixed onder the 
arms of Orlando, where it said : 

' That knigbt alone thaw armi ihall mrm, 
Who dani Orlsndo'a prowMS provv.' " 

Bu&iu. or OBKnoBtoK, Gl 

fitougk to m; tiie tnith, no such appellatioQ hath till nov erer 
lettcoea mj ears." " Is it possible yoa shonld nerer have heard it ! " 
exdaLned Don Qoixote. All the party had. listened with rnhX 
«ttestioB to this dialogoe ; and eren the goatherds and shepncrds 
perceived Ae esceuive djstractioiL of oar knight, Sancho Pmikb 
skine beliered all ttat his master Mud to be tnic, knovine who Jie 
WBi,aadh»vÍBg heea acquamted with him from childhood: but he 
bad sOMe doubts as to that part which concerned the fair Dulcinea 
del Toboso ; nerer haiing heard of such a name, or such a princess, 
•itbodgb ho liied 80 near Toboso. 

Hug convening, the; proceeded on-irhen ther discerned, thnm;^ 

a deft between two high mountains, ^Knit twenty shepherds coming 

down, all clad in jerkins of black wool and crowned with garlands, 

aome oí which, as appeared aflerwanfe, were of yew and some of 

'308 flowera 

Those who 

aoid at the 

e interred." 

just as tho 

sharp piek- 

jck. After 

to take a 

rewed with 

hirty yews 

iy nnhappy 
d me, that 
here it wta 

sired tobo 

irelterB, he 
ich UeaTen 
Jib body of 

irtcfij;, and 
ul without 

_ , . second to 

none in all that was onfortnnate. He lovedT and was fJ>borred : 
he adored, and waa aoonied : he coñrt«d a savage ; he solicited a 
itatne ; he pursued the wind ; he called ^ond to the desert ; he 
was the aUve of ingiatjtude, whose recompeoae was to leave him, in 
the middle of lis career of bfe, a prey to deatli inflioled by a cert^n 
shepherdess, whom be endeavoured to render iuuuortal in the 
"' '' A.OOgIC 


memories of men ; as these papers you alt looking Bt would suffl' 
cientlf demonstrate, had be not ordered me to commit tbem to the 
tlftmes at tlie «ame time that bis body iras deposited iu the earth." 
" Yon would tben be more rigorous and cruel to them," said Vivaldo, 
" than their master himself ; for it ia neither just nor wise to fulUl 
the will of him who commands wbatia utterly unreasonable. Augustus 
Ciesar deemed it wrong tü consent to the eiecutiou of what the divino 
Montoau commanded in his wilt ; therefore, Signor Ambrosio, 
although yon commit your friend's body to the earth, do not commit 
his writings also to oblÍT¡on| and if be has ordained lU:e a mail 
ftggriered, do not you fulfil like one without discretion: but rather 
preserve these papers, in order that the cnieltv of Marcek may be 
Btill remem bered, uid serre for an eiamjilie to those who shall live in 
times to come, that they may avoid falling down the like precipices; 
for I am acquainted, as well as my companions here, with the story 
of this your enamoured and despairing friend ; we know also your 
friendship and the occasion of hli death, and what he ordered on his 
deatli-bed: from which kmentable history we may conclude how 
rreat bas been tbe cruelty of Majcela. the love of Chrysostom, and 
the sincerity of your friendship ; and also team the end of those who 
run headlong in the path that dchrious passion presents to their 
new. Last night we heard of Chrysostom s death, and that he was 
to be interred m this place : led, therefore, by curiosity and com- 
passion, we turned out of our way, and determined to behold wilJi 
oar eyes what had interested us so much in the recital; ao^ in 
retoru for our pitv, and our deure to give aid, had it been possible, 
we beseech jvu, oh wise Ambrosio — at least 1 request it on my own 
behalf— that you will not burs the papers, but allow me to take somo 
of them." Then, without waiting for the shei^erd's reply, 1m 
stretched out his hand sod took srane of those that were netireat to 
him: upon which Ambrosio said; "Out of ejvuity, si>nor, I will 
consent to your keeping those you have taken; bnt if you expect 
that I shall forbear ouming those that remain, you ore deceived." 
Vivaldo, deairoQS of seeing what the papers contained, immediately 
opened one of tbem, and found that it was entitled, "The Soiig 
of Despair." Ambrosio, bearing it. said ; " liiis is the last thin^ 
which Uie unhappy man wrote ; and that all present may conceive, 
■ignor, to what a stale of misery he was reduced, read it aloud ; for 

UignieUb, Google 


Wítrtat au Tthtaried tXt deipairing vertea of the deteaiat lAtphtrd, 
witk alier lutaeptcííd «tab. 


Snici, mul mud, y*a fmt* me to prooUini 
Fram olime to olimo the iiianiph* of ;aur «corn, 
Ln hell iteell tnopir* bq- tortur'd braaot 

wilixil . _ . . 

Al ouco to tc! mj griefa and thy eiplu 
Bear, than, and Ssten with atfantiva ee 
Not to hannoiui ., " 

Fotch'4 trom tbo bottom cf my lab'rii 
ToeoM, inspiUof tlwc^ my raging «i 

Ths lloD% roar, the howl of mtdnlglit woIto, 
The scaly seirent's bio, the mao'i oroak. 
The bunt of fighting irliKb tk&t Tex the main. 
The widov'd ml and tattled ^«intÍTe moan, 

With aU tiw diB of hell-« nbmal orsw. 
Prom mj grieved nol fciih Ijeue in oos Bouad — 
bsniw my senasa all <xmíi¡iBd and loeC 
For ahl no common langoago oan expresa 
Tha cmel pains that tüiture my sad hoatt. 

Tat kt not Bcho b««- the mournful aomidi 
To vhare old Tagna rolla hli yellow sauda. 
Or Bfltia, cntwn'd with olivu, poura hia Soodj 
£nt here, 'midat roeka and precipiocs deep. 
Or to obacnrs and idlent Talea removed. 
On sbon» by buman imtatepa never trod, 
Wbaro the gay sun ne'er Uta lüs radiant orb^ 
Or with th' envenom'd fhosofaavngo batata 
That mnge Uie howling wildenieB lor fbod. 
Will I prochtbn theatnryofmyinMa— 
Poor pririloge of grief ! — whilst eohoea faoarM 
Catch the aad taky and Ipnad it round the world. 

Mntaam givM naatn ; aoapisiani, croe or miaa, 

Cotom the impotJent mmd : wHh nuur stroke 

FaD jealoDiy dátroys ; the pangs of abeenoo 

If loTar oan aupport ; nor Smust hope 

Can dlNip«te tike dread of cold neglect; ^nolr 

Aad ^ídA the thtIcku tonnoDt* T «arlura, 
No ray ol !»« e'sr daitad on my Mini 
Nor irónld t bope ; ratber in den dopalr 
Will 1 nt dotm, and. brooding i/or mr giiafi 
Vow «mlutiiij: ftlacnoe &cm bar lif^ 

Cmi Imp* ud fear tt onoa tlw nbI vtmrni . 
Or bwe nbMit «itb nrer oanaa <d {ear 
Stun I, to (hot ontfHghtAil jttloiiiy. 
Close my ud «rea, when er'ry pang I IM 
Pnaanti Qm hidsona pbautsia Co iny view ; 
What wrMch so cradnlotB but nrast cmhnioa 
ClatnHt with open aran, lAsn bft bdtolda 
JMiddn RTow'd, nNtddeai naHnd. 
iMd bntk ItaeU aoB<ran«l ta a Ue I 
O, (nul t jrant of Dm realm «f lOTB, 
Fierce JeakHUf, vm with a iwonl tUi baa^ 
Or Umm^ Diidui^ a twisted oonl beatos. 

My dMUí** thjr MnM ^017 and tky prid>k 

Coan, an ye phanlaai of the dark ahjM t 
Bitag, Tantalni, Iby miiitiiignlah'd tliirat. 

woo, IxioD, hrh 


r , ...ivCoOl^lc 

irtpf t.i, 

Poor TOUT mihad gn«& into thú breast, 
And in low munuurv un^ mad obaequiv 
(If a despalriTi^ wretch wioh rib» may claim) 
O^vr mj ooid Limba, dony'd a wiadias-iihool* 
And let tbe triple porter of tbe ihades, 
The riatar lurieA, and chúueraa diro» 
With notes of woo the moumlul chonu K>i>i. 
8i)ah tunerol pomp alone beflu the wrstoli 
B; bMoty Hot untdmel; to the giSiTaL 

And thon, mj wmg, aad chOd at my deaptir. 
Complain no mora ; but, 111109 mj wretchBd &t* 
ImproTM her hopplM' lot who gave thee birth. 
Be all thy KiTTOira buried in my tomb. 

CbiTSMtom's son; mt nnch uppmnd by tlioie wbo heard it ; tmt 
be «ho read it nid it did not ceem to wree iritk the aocoont he had 
beard of the reserve Mid goodaeM of Mucek; for Cbryaostom eom- 
plaiuiait ofjealovBy, nispicion,aiMl alwenM, all to the prdodice of 
her eiedit and good name. Amhrosio, beiui well aoauunted with the 
most hidden tKougkta of bis friend, «aid, in reply : To utisfy jioii, 
aguat, OB this potnt, I mnat infoim you that, vtün my unhaiipy mend 
«rote thi* BOBg. he wv abeemt from Maréela, fnña «horn he had 
vtdnntanly buisned biiDMlf, to tiy whether absóue would hare upon 
kirn its oninaiy effect; and, a* an ahaent lover ía disturbed by every' 
shadow, so was Chiysostom trameoted with oaiueleas jealousy and 
■asptcioBa ; thoa tlie truth of all wbi(4i fome t^orts of Maiixla'a 
goodness remains nnimpeBched; and, eiceptíos that she is oroel, 
•omeirtiat snogant, and very diMainñil, envf itsuf neither o«uht nor 
eaneharae berwidianydefert." " Yon are n^it," answered Vivaldo; 
who, as Be was gctng to nad another of tbe Jitters be had saved from 
tbe Sre, wM intempted by a wonderful visión (for sneh it seemed) 
that sodde^ presented itself to their sight ; for, on the top of the 
nek mder wfaioh they were djonng tbe grave, aj^eared the shep- 
berdess henelf, so beuttuU that herHMwaty even snrpsased the fame 
of it. Those who had uver seen hec nnnl that time beheld her in 
silence and sdmiiatum-, Md tbose wlto had ben aMutomed to the 
■igjit of iKr wen now strpristd at her ^weanuwe. Bnt as soon as 
JUibroaiD had espied ber,be said, with sdignation, "Comestthoa, O 
fierce basÚik of these mountain^ to see iriiether the wonmls of this 
wieteb, whom thy cmdty hss «eprived of Gfb, will bleed afresh at 
thyappeannceForcomestthon to tnamtib in tíw cmel exploits of 
thy iiilMiw^n dispDUtk»!— wbicb from thai eminenee thoa baoUest^ 
aa the nendess Nero ^aeed OB the flames of burning BmneF or inso- 
lently to trample ob tlus onhappy ewse, as did tfae mipious danghter 
onthat of her btber Targoinr" Tell na «uicUy for what thon 
earnest, or what thorn wooldat have ; for sinee 1 know that Chrysostom. 

_l^- 1^ - ■ _^_..^ J:.,.!..»^ «L...» T ^n 4.L. .... 4L.4. .11 tl^fXAA nkn 

m fi"-' of Tollia, not 


ttoned," ansvered Karcela ; " but to vindicate ranel^ and to declare 
hov uweasoDable are tlioae who blaine me for their own sofferings, 
or for the dealh of Cbrysoatom ; and therefore 1 entreat yon all to 
hear me with attention; for I need not spmd modi time, nor use 
müDj words to convince persons of sense. Heareii, as fou say, made 
me handsome, and to such a degree that mj beauty impels yon invo- 
luntarily to love me ; and, in return for this passion, jou pretend that 
1 am bound to love you. 1 know, by the underataníüng whioli God 
has given me, that whatever is beautiful is amiable; but I cannot 
' conceive that the object beloved for its beanty is obliged to return 
love for love. Besides, it may happen that the lover la a deformed 
and nsly person ; and being on that account an object of disgusi, it 
woida seem inconsistent to say because I love you for your beauty, 
you must love me although I am ugly. But supposing beauty to be 
equal, it does not follow tbat inclinations should be mutual ; for all 
beauty does not inspire love ; some t^eaee the sight without cap- 
tivating the affections. If all beauties were to eiamour and cap- 
tivate, the hearts of mauldnd would be in a continnal state of 
perplexity and confusion, without knowing where ia ñi; tor beau- 
tiful ohjccts being infiuito, the sentiments they inspire must also be 
infinite. And I have heard say, true love caouot be divided, and must 
be voluntary and uiuxHistraiiied. If w, why woold yoa have me 
yield my heart by compidsion, urged oviy becitnse yon say you love 
mc? for, prav toll me, if Heaven, instead of giving tne beautv, had 
mademennsigntly, would it have been justinmetohaveooBiplained 
that you did not love mc F Besides, yon must ooisidra that the 
beauty I possess is not mjr own cboioe; hot, such as it ii. Heaven 
bestowed it freely, unsolicited by me ; and. as the «iper does not 
deserve bhune for her sting, though she kills with it, because it is 

Even her by nature, as little do I deserve reprehenskni for being 
mdsome ; lor beauty, in a modest woman, ii like fice or a sliarp 
sword at a distance ; neither doth tJie one burn, nor the outer wonw^ 
those that oome not too near them. Hononr aod virtue aie orna- 
ments of the soul, without which the body, though it bo really beau- 
tiful, ought not to be thought so. Now, if modesty be one of the 
virtnes which most adorns and beautifies both bq<^ and mind, why 
should she who is loved for being beantiful, part wiui it to gratify the 
dcsúes of him who, merely for his own idMÚtn, endeavoon to destroy 
it f I was bom free, and, that I might lire fre^ I chose the soUtnde 
of these fields. The tarees on theee mooMtatm are my eompanions' 
tlie clear waters of these brooks are my mimrs ; to the trees and 
the waters I devoto my meditations and my beauty. I am fire at a 
distance, and a sword afar off. Those whom my person has enamoured, 
my words have undeceived ; and, if love be nourished by hopee, as I 
^ve none to Cbryso£tom, nor gratified thcee of any one else, surely 
It may be said that his own ^tstinaoy, rather than wy cruelty, de- 
stroyed him. If it be objected to me tliat his intentions were 
honourable, and that therefore I ou^ to have oomplied with them, 
lauswer that when,ÍQ this very pUce^ieie Ida gnve it now digging, 
he made known to me his favQuraUe aentimenta, I told him that it 
was my resolution to live in perpetnal oolitodc^ and tíiat the earth 
alone should enjoy the fruit of my weluaion, and the apoüs of n^ 
beauty; and if lie, notwithstanding all tlüs íaakatM, viñild ohati- 

Mtdr penerere K>>n^ hop^i aixl <aü agaiiut the wind, u it sat- 

Bising that he sbonld be orerwheliiied in the enlf of hia mm hUy t 
I bad beU him m suspense, I bad been fuae ; if I had comphed 
vilb hnn, Ihad acted contrary to ray better purposes and resolutions. 
Bo persisted, attbo<ighai]deceÍTed;nede»paireii, without bringhnted. 
Cknúider, now, «hewer it be rusonable to laf the blame of hia sufier- 
iOfCS upon me. Let him who is deceived oomplain; let Mm to wham 
bith IS tnvteli desirair; Jet him whom I ehall encourage preaume: 
and let him Taunt whom I shall admit; but let me not he called 
Mnel or nrarderoni br Ü10S8 whom I never jironiise, deceive, encourage, 
norwiitiit. Ueana DH not yet oidained that I should k>Te by destiny: 
and from'bfñn^ b; ohoice I deúre to be excused. Let erery one ot 
those who Boheit ma profit by this general declaration; and be it 
understood beaceforward that if any one dies for me, be dies not 
tliroufth jealousy or disdain ; for she who lores none ejui make 
none jealona, and sincerity ought not to pass for disdain. Let 
him who calls me sava^ and a banlisk shun me as a mischicroos 
and evil thing; let him who calls me nngiateful not serre me ; bim 
who thinks me cmel not follow me ; for tats s&Tti^, this basilisk, this 
unsratefoJ, this cruel thing, will never either seek, serve, or follow 
Ihem. If Chrvsostom's impatience and preaumirtuoro passion killed 
him, why should my modest conduct and reserve be blamed P If I 
preserve n; pnnty unspotted among tliese trees, why should he desire 
me to lose it among men f I possess, at yon all know, wealth of my 
own, and do not corrt more. My condition is free, and I am not 
inclined to snhiect myself to restraint. I neither lore nor hate any- 
body. 1 neither deceive this man, nor by snares for that. I neither 
cajcJe one, nor divert myself with another. The modest conversation 
oilhe shepherdesses of these villages, and the care of my goats, are 
my entertainment. My desires are bdnnded within these mountains, 
andif my thou^ts eitend beyond them, it is to contemplate the beantr 
of hpAVftn- — stfliw hv whiab thft fuml wwendn to its nriiHnRi ahnde. ' 

most inacceesibie part of tbe nei^bonring noimti^ leaving idl 
who were preaenf eqnally aorprised at fact beauty and good 

Scnte of those whom her bright eyes bad wonnded, heedless of her 
express declar^iiBi, seemed inclined to follow her - which Don 
Ooiiote perceiving, and thinking it a proper occasion to employ his 
ctüvjüryjntherehef of distressed damsels, he laid his hand onthcbilt 
of his sw<Md, ud in a lond voice said, " Let no person, whatever be 
his rank or condition, presume to follow the beautiful Marcela, an 
pwn of inoviring mj Iiúioni indignation. She has demonstrated, by 
dear and satiafidorr arguments, how Uttle she deserves censure on 
account of (^rjsoatoni's death, and how averse she is to encourage 
any of her loven ; for whidi reason, instead of being followed and 
persecatetL ^e ooght to be hononred and esteemed by all good men 
._ Ik rj *_ i^ — iw 1 J, j^ i{ whose intentions are so 

persecatetL áic oo^t to be hon 
in the world, fiv being the only 
rirtaous." Now, whether it w 

virtaous." Now, whether it was owing to the d 


closed the eepnlohre with a large tra^nent of » rooV, Tiiit3 ■ tmnb- 
BtODe was finiBheil which Ambrosio swd it wu bia inteuticm to pro- 
vide and to iusoribe upon it the foUoviDg epitaph :— 
Ths bodf of a wntehad twain^ 

In tlii> oold b«l iwlaotod Uca. 

He llvad, iDDd, faapleai youth I to proTe 
, Th' Inhuman tyramiy oi k>T^ 

} Exartad in Mumla'i eysa. 

Then thej atiewed abundance of floven and bmgb on the gime, 
and, after expresaiona of •?ondolence to his friend Ambrosio, tbejr took 
Üieír leave of him. Tiraldo and his companion did the same ; and 
Don Qniiote bade adien to his bosta and the travellers, who entreated 
bim to acoompan^ them to Seville, being a place so favonrahle for 
adventiues, that m every street and tammg they were to he met with 
in greater abandance tbim in any other place. Don Qnixote thanked 
them for their information and courtesy, but said that neither his 
inclination nor Autf would admit of bis going to Seville, until he had 
cleared all those mountains of the robbers and aasasuns with which 
thej were said to be iijested. The travellere, hearing his good reso- 
lutiODS, would not importune him further ; but, takinx leave of him, 
pursued their journey, during which the history of Maroela and 
Chrysoetom, as well as the pbreni; of Don Quixote, supplied them 
with subjects of conversation. The knight, on his part, resolved to 
go in quest of the shepherdeai Uaroela, to make her an offv of hia 
services ; but thing* took a differeiit oourse, aa will be related in tiie 

UignieUb, Google 


m«n£* it raided the unjertunau adtentrnt «rite* 'Uftl Don Qtiiait^ 
in wtetting in(A «rtoi» unMtrcifyl rgiywta»*.* 

IiK&TB hariiig beto taken, ta the sage Gid Hamet Benenzeli nktei, 
\ij Don Qnixot^ of all those vho irere present at CniTsostom'a 
foneral, he and his sqiura entered the nune vood into whicb the; had 

seen the shepherde gedthronghit 

iw »bove two hoiu liey stopped ia 

ameadowftillofrr and refreshing 

brook : issomach I to pass there 

the soItTy hours i 17 omiressÍTe. 

Don Quixote and E imd Romanta 

■t large to feed npi ed the wallet j 

aad, without ws ae, muter aad 

man shared what i 1 care to fetter 

Sosnaote, being n lorree^ tb*t all 

the mans of the pi >ke him to aar 

indecorom. Bnt 1 r^ asleep, ao 

ndoed it that thi 17 a nnmber of 

fl*!'™™ mares, b aniers, whose 

cmtom it is to pasi ea wham there 

ia i^vss and water : reposed raited 

thar porpote. Kowiteohi^peDedthatlUiEiiiaiitecoaoeiTedawish 
to pay his respects to the females, end, having them in the wind, he 
diMiged hisnMiml and sober paoe to a brisk trot, and without a^ing 
his master's Inte, departed to indnlse in his ii^ination. Bat they 
bong, as it seemed, more disposed to feed than anfUiing dse, raoeivea 
him with their heos and their teeth in such a manner that m a little 
time hia Kirtbs brok^ aad he lost his saddle. But what must have 
afleeted him more sensibly was, Uwt the carrien, having witnessed his 
intrusion, set npt» bim with their paek-staves, and so belaboured 
Um that Üiey laid him akmg on the ground in wretched plight. 

Bfthia time the knight and sqnuft having seen the drubbing of 
fiennante, came up io greet haste; andDonQnixoteaaid, "By what 
I se^ fnóiá Senobck these are no knights, bnt low people of a 
scouulrel race. I tell thee this, because thon art on uat acoonot 

* Cuiten of Galkd^ ud blbaUMnta oT Qua dlrtriet of Yangiua In the 

, , . .A.OOgIC 

iustified in assbting me to take ample revenge for the ontrspe they 
nave done to Bezinante before onr eyes." " WTiat the devil of revengo 
can we take," snswercd Bancho, "since they are above twenty, and we 
no more than two, and perhaps Dut one and a half?" "1 am equal to 
ahundrcd!" replied Don Quixote; and, without saying more, helaid 
his hands on his Bword, and flew at the Yajigucsians ; and Sancho 
did the same, incited by the eiBmple of his master. At the first 
blow, Don Ouijote gave one of them aterriblewound on the shoulder, 
through a leathern doublet. The Yanguesians, aeeinj; themselves 
assaulted in this manner by two men only, seized their staves, and, 
Burroimdin^ iheni, began to dispense their blows with great veliemence 
and animosity; and true it is that at the second blow they brought 
Sancho to the ground. The same fate befeL l)on Quixote — his courage 
and deiteritf availing him nothing: and, as fate would have it, he 
fell just at Rozinante's feet, who nad not yet been able to rise. 
Whence we may learn how unmercifuilyr^k-stAves will braise, when 
pnt into rnstic and wrathful hands. The Yanguesians, perccivinz 
the mischief they had done, loaded their beasts with at! speed, ana 
pursued their journey, leaving the two adventurers in evil plight. 

Uie first who came to his senses was Saaoho Panza, who, finding 
himself close to his master, with a feeble and plaintive voice cried, 
" Signoc Don Quiiote ! ah, Signer Don QuixotcT " " What wouldst 
thou, brother Sancho f" answered the luiight, in the same fechle and 
lamentable tone. "I could wish, if it were passible," said Sanelio 
Panza, "your worship would give me two draughts of that drink of 
I'eo Blass, if yon have it here at hand. Perhaps it may do as welt 
for broken bones as it does for wounds." "Ünliappyl, tliatwehaveit 
not ! " answered Don Qiiiiote. " But I swear to t Dee, Sancho Panza, 
on the faith of a kmght-enant that, before two days pass (if fortune 
decree not otherwise), I will have it in my possession, or my hands 
shall fail me much." "Bnt in how many days," said the acpiire, 
"does yonr worship think we shall recover the use of our feet P 
Tor my part," answered the battered knight, Don Quixol*, "I 
caimot ascertain the precise term: bnt I alone am to blame, for having 
laid hand on m; sword against men who are not knights hite myselfí 
and, therefor^ I believe the God of battles has permitted this chas- 
tisement to fall upon mc. asa punishment for having transjiTessed the 
laws of chivalrv. On this account, brother Sancho, it is requisite 
thou shouldst be forewarned of what I shall now tell tbee: for it 
highlyconcems the welfare of us both: and it is this; that, when we 
ftre insulted by low people of this kind, do not stay stJl I take up my 
Bwoi^ against them, for I will by no means do it ; bat do tbou drair 
thy sword, and chastise them to thy satisfaction. If any knizhta 
shall come up 1« their assistance, I shall then know how to defend 
thee, and offend them with all my might : for thou hast already had a 
thonund prouEs how for the valour of this strong arm of nunc 
extends ; "—so arrogant was the poor genUeman become by his victory 
over the valiant Biscayan I 

But Sancho Panza did not so entirely approve his master's instmo- 
tions as to forbear saying, in reply: " ^, 1 am a peaceable, tam^ 
quiet roan, and can forgive any injury whatsoever j for I have a wifs 
and children to maintain and bring ni» ; so that give me leave to tell 
roor warship by way of hint, sbioe it is not for me to command, that 
I win opon no account diaw iny sword, either against peasant or afúuat 
,, .A.OOgIC 


knigtit ; and that, from this time forward, in the presence of God, I 
forgive all ¡Qjuries bnj ooe has done, or BbaU do me, or that any 
person ¡a now doing, or niaj hereafter do me, whether he be high or 
low, rieli or poor, gentle or simple, without exccptliu an^ state or 
oonditioQ whatcTer," Upon which hi» niarter said; I wish I had 
breath to talk a little at mj ease, and that the pain I feel in this rib 
would oease long enoush for me to conTinoe thee. Panza, of thy error. 
Hark ye, sinner, should the gale of fortune, now so adverse, change 
in oor favour, iillinp the sails of our desires, so that «c mo; securely 
and without opposition niake the port of some one of thoM islands 
vhich 1 have promised thee, what would become of thee, if when I 
bad gained it, and made thee lord thereof, thou shouldst render alt 
ineffectual by not being a knight, nor desiring to be one, and by having 
neither valour nor resolution to revenge the injuries done thee, or 
to defend th; dominions F For thou must know that, in kingdoms 
«nd provinces newly conqnered, the minds of the natives are at no 
time so quiet, nor so much in the interest of their new master, but 
títere is still ground to feai that they will endeavour to effect a change 
of things, and oucc more, as they call it, try their fortune : therefore, 
tbe new possessor ought to have understanding to know how to con- 
duct himself, and courage to act offensivelv and defensively, on every 
occasion." " la this that hath now befallen ns," answered Sancho, 
"I wish I had been furnished with that nndarstanding and Taloilr 

fonr lordship speaks of; but I swear, on the faith of a poor man^ I 
am at this tiioo more fit for plaísters than discourses. Try, sir, 
whether you are able to rise, and we wüi help up Kozinante, though 
be does not deserve it, for he was the ])rínoipal cause of all this 
mauling. I never believed the Uke of Koooaote, whom I .took to be 
chaste, and as peaceable as myself. Bat it is a true saying, that 
' Buch time is necessair to know people thoroughly ;' and that ' wo 
■re sore of nothing in tois life.' Who could have tbonght that, after 
■oeh swinging Issues as you gave that luckless adventurer, there 
■houU come post, as it were, in pursuit oí you, this vast tempest of 
cndgel-strokes, which has disch^^d itself upon our shouldersF" 
"^ute, Sancho," replied Don Quiiote, "should, one would think, be 
ased to «neb storms; but mine, that were brouglit up between 
muslins and cambrics, must, of course, be more sensible to the paia 
of this onfortunate encounter. And were it not that I imagine— why 
da I say imagine ?— did I not know for certain, that all these incon- 
veniences an inseparably annexed to the profession of arma, I would 
toffcr m^elf to die here, out of pure vexation." " Since these mis- 
haps," sud the squire, " are the natural fruits and harvest of chival^'. 
wag teU me whether tbey come often, or whether Üiej have tbeir set 
mri» in which thev happen ; for, to my thinking, two such harvests 
wwild disable as irom ever retting s third, ii God of bis infinite 
mercy docs not suceour na." 

" Learn, friend Sancho," answered Don Qui: — 
kni^ts-emnt are subject to a thousand perils ai 
tbesame time they are no less near becoming kings and emperors; aa 
experience hath sbown ns in many and divers knights, with whose 
bitíoñes I am perfectly acquainted. I could tell thee now, If this 
pain would allow me, of some, who, by tbe strength of their arm 
iJone, have mounted to the exalted ranks I have mentioned ;,^et 
these very men were, before and after, involved in sundry calamities 

n DOR quizoTz. 

Bnd miafbrtnnee. 1%e taloroiu Amadis de OstJ, far inatanee, mw 
kimself in tbe pover of bú mortal euetnT, Archelaás the enchanter, of 
w^om it is positively affinned that, vaea he had him prisoner, be 
tied him to a piUar m his ooort^ard, and gtne him above two hiffl' 
dred laahe* vith bis bone's bndle. There is, moreover, a prWal« 
aathor of i» small credit, who tella lu tiiat the 'knight of the son, 
beins CBoght b^ ft trap-door, which sunk under his feet, in a certain 
castle, found himself at the ootfom of a deep dungeon under ground, 
bonnd hand and foot ; where tliej administered to him one of those 
tíiings called a clyster, of snow-water and sand, that almost deepatcfaed 
him: and iuul he not been succoured in that great distress br a certain 
st^c, his particular friend, it wooid have gone hard witn the poor 
fau^t.' So that I may well submit to suffer amouK so many worthy 
persoiu who endured mncfa KTeat«T affronts than those we bave bow 
expenenced: for 1 would bare thee know, Sancho, that woanda viren 
with instnunenta that are aoddentallr in the hand are no aimnit ; 
thns it is expreesl; wntten in the law of combat that, if a shoemaker 
Btiike a person with the last he bas in his hand, thou^it bereallvof 
wood, it will not therefore be said that the person thus beaten with it 
was cudgelled. I sar this, that thou mayest not think, thooRhwe are 
bruised m this oonfie. we are disgraced: for tbe arms ttiose men 
carried, and with whini tbey assailed us, were no otber than their 
BtaTCe ; and none of them, as I remember, had either tuek, sword, or 
dagger." "They gaTCme noIeismB," answered Sanoho, to obsráre 
BO naTTOwlj ; for scarcely had I laid hand on my weapon, than my 
shoulders were crossed wiÜi their saplings, in aneb a manner that tbev 
deprived my eyes of sight and my feet of strength, Uyins me wher« I 
now lie : and where I am not so much concerned about whether tbe 
business of the thrashing be an affront or not, as I wn at tbo pain of 
the blows, which will leave as deep an impression on my memory la 
on my shoulders." " Notwithstanding this, I tell thee, I»othu 
Fansb" said Don Quixote, "that there is no remembrance which 
time does Dot obliterate, nor pain which death does not terminate." 
"Bat what greater misfortune can there be," replied Fbdul "than 
that which waits for time to cure and for death to end f If tnis mis- 
chance of ours were of that sort which might be cored with a couiJe 
of ptaisters, it wouhi not be alttwether so cadj but, for aught I sec, 
■11 the plaisters of a hostal will not be suffiaenl to act ns to rights 

" Hare done with this, and nthei strength out of veakness, 
Sancho," said Don Qoixtne: "tot so 1 purpose to do: and let us 
eee bow Bozinante does ; fw it seema to me that not Uie least part 
of our misfortune has fallen to the share of this poor animal." "Thatia 
not «t all stnuge," answered Sancho, "ainoe he alto hebngs to aknight- 
emuit: but what I wonder at is Uiat mr ass should come off scot- 
bee, wbeie we have pud so dear." " Fortune always leaves some 
door open in misfbrtnn^ to admit a remedy," said Don Quixote ; 
"this I say, because thy beast may now aupply the want of Rosinante^ 
by carrying me hence to some oasUe, where I may be cured of my 
wcnmls. Nor do 1 acconnt it dishonourable to be so mounted: for I 
remember to bave read that the good old Silenos, governor and tutor 
of the mtm god <^ laughler, when be made his entry into the city of 
the hundred gates, was mounted, muoh to his satisfaction, on a most 
beautiful ass. " It is likely be rode u your worship says, answeicd 

, , . .A.OOgIC 


Mud Don Qoixote, " rather give honour than take it away ; theieforé, 
fiiend Panza, aiuwer me do more, bat, u I said before, taiae me up 
■a well as thou canst, and place me as it ma; beet please thee apon 
thf as& that we mar get hence bebre night oTertskea ua in the onin- 
hatuted place." "let I hare heard ^ui worship ssf," quoth Fama, 

Oj «Hot kafiMud to Dos Rúcate in It* «m* «itel At imagittd to U 

Lootixe tt Don Qoixote laid across the ass^ the innkeeper ingoired 
of Sancho what ailed him? Sancho answered him that it was nothiiw 
but a fall ^m the lock, br wliich his ribs were somewhat bruised. 
The innkeeper bad a wife ot a disposition unooramon amone those of 
the like occupation ) for she was nsturallr charitable, and fdt for tbe 
ntisfoitones of ber ndghboois ; so that the immcdiotelr prepared to 

,, .A.OOglC 

M non qnizoTB. 

relieve Dod Qoiiote, and made ber daaght«r, a very comely young 

maiden, assiat in the cute of her guest. There was also a servant at 
the inn, on ¿aturiAn «ench, bnüd-faced, flat-headed, with a little 
nose, one eye squinting, and the other not much better. It is true, 
the elegance of her form made amends for other defects. She was not 
seven hands high ; and her shoulders, which burdened her a little too 
much, made her look down to the ground more than she would 
willingly have done. This agreeable mss now assisted the damsel to 
prepare for Don Quizóte a very sorry bed in a garret, which gave 
erident tokens of having formerly served many years as a hay-loft. In 
this room lodged also a carrier, wliose bed was at a little distance 
from that of our knight ; and though it was composed of paimeb, and 
Otiier trappings of his mules, it had much the advant^ over that of 
Don Quixote, which consisted of four not very smooth boards, upon 
two unequal tresafls, and a mattress no thicker than a quilt, and full 
of knobs, which from their hardness might have beeo taken for peb- 
bles, had not the wool appeared through some fractures; with two 
theeta lite the leather ot an old tai^t, and a rug, the threads of 
which you might count if you chose, without losing one of the 

In this wretched bed was Bon Quixote laid ; after which the hostess 
Uid her daughter plaistered him from head to foot: Maritornes (for 
to the Astnrian wench was called) at the same time holding the l^ht. 
And, as the hostess was thus employed, perceiTing Don Quixote to 
be mauled in every part, she said that his bntiset seemed the effect of 
hard drubbing, rather than of a fall, " fiot a dmbbing," said Sancho ; 
" but the knobs and sharp points of the rock, ererr one of which has 
left its mark : and, now I think of it," added he, pray, contrive to 
spare a morsel of that tow, as somebody may find it useful— indeed, 
I suspect that my sides would be glad of a Utile of it." " What. 
yon have had a fait too. have you?" said the hostess. "No, 
replied Sancbo, " not a fall, but a fright, on seeing my master tumble, 
which so affected my whole body that I feel as if I had received a 
thousand blows myseE" " That may very well be," said the damsel ; 
"for 1 have often dreamed that I was falling down from some high 
tower, and could never come to the grouaa; and, when 1 awoke. I 
have found myself as much bruised aiid batto^ as if I had reoUy 
fallen," " Bat here is the point, mistress," answered Sancho Fans^ 
" that I, without dreaming at all, and mote awake than I am now. 
find myself with almost as many bruises as my master Don Quixote. 
"What do vou sny is the name of this gentleman?" quoth the 
Asturian. Don Quixote de la Mancha," answered Sancho Poma : 
" he is a knight-errant, and one of the best and most valiant that has 
been seen for this long time in the world." " What is a knight- 
errant?" said the wench. "Are you such a novice as not to know 
that?" answered Sancho Panza. "Yon must know, then, that A 
knight-errant is a thing that, in two words, is cudgelled and made an 
emperor ; to-dav he is the moat unfortunate wrelidi in the world ; and 
to-monow will have two or three crowns of kingdoms to ^ive to his 
iqaire." "How comes it then to pass that you, being squire to this 
worthy gentleman," said the hostess, "have not yet, as it seems, got 
•0 much as an earldom ? " " It is early days yet, answered Sancho, 
" for it is hut a month since we set out in quest of adventures, ana ' 


ümes wB look for one tiling ind find BJWther, Bot the truth fi, if 
mj master Don Quísote reoovers of this wound or &I1, and 1 am not 
disabled theKiij, 1 would Bot tru<^ my hopes for the b«st title in 

To all this coOTersa'wn Don Quixote had listened verr attentively ¡ 
and noW| raiaia^ hiiii»»lf np in tlie bed as veil as he c»ald, and tuking 
the huta of ha hostc^ he said to her : " Believe me, beaatcous lady, 
you ni»r qsl«em yoiiiielf forton^Ie in havins^ entertained me in tliii 
yoar castle, being such a person that, if I say little of myself, it it 
beenuüe, m the prurcrb declares, ftelf-nrsiee depreciates: but my 
Bqnire Will inform yoa who I am. I only say that I shall retain the 
service yon have drmo nve eternally enicraven on my memory, and bo 
(¡ratcl'nl to you as loov as my lil'o shall endure. And, had it pleased 
thehiiih be»TCDS that Lore had not held me bo enthralled and eabject 
U> his laws, and to the eyes of that beuitiful ingrato «hoee name I 
silently pronoinica, t^Msc of this lovdy viifin had becwne enslavers 
of my liberty." 

The host^'sa, bar daughter, and the ffood Maritornes, stood con- 
foBndedat tliLsharaQinKof <mrkniirlrt-¿rrnnt,whieb they understood 
jnat ns much as if he h:Ld spoi^en Greek, altliongh they guessed that 
It alt tended to compliments and oflucs of service; ana not being 

it, whan tie guests were all quiet and her master and nri^css 

asleep, she wosld rniair to him. And it is said of this honest wench 
tliat she never made the like promise but she performed it, even 
thnns^ she bod mads it on a mounuiin, without any witneae ; for she 
ruined hentdf n)*on faers^fitiiity, and thou^ht it no (Üssraoe to be 
employed in servira at au inn ; since niBfortoncs and nnnappy aoci- 
deata, as titt affinned, lud bronRfat her to that state. 

Don Qoiioto'i hard, scsmty, bem»rl», craiv bed, stood ftrst in the 
middle ot the eoek-Ut i and close ^y it Sanoho bad placed his own, 
whicit consisted only of a rush mat, and a mg that seemed to be 
nÜier of beaten hemp than of wool Next to the squire's stood that 
of the carrier, made up, as hath been said, of pcumeb, and tlie whole 
fimifaue of two of his best moles : for be poesesied twelve in namfaer, 
sUak, f^ and statahí — being one of the ri^st oorriers of Areralo, 
•oooriling to the autnor cá this history, who mi^es particular mention 
of this oarrier, for he know him well ; nay. come go so fir as to >«y he 
was rehtted to bim. Besida, Cid Hmnst Benengeli was a veryminBta 
and very aconrate hittoriaa in all thinirs: and this is very evident 
from toe «úciiinslancos already related, which, tbatuh apparently 
mean and tnnal, he would not pass over unnoticed. This may serve 
as an enun]^ to those grave historians who relate facts so bricflyand 
loecinctly ihot we have sonrcety a taste of them : omitting, either 
throuich neglect, malice, or ignorance, things the most DÍtiiy and sub- 
stantial. A tlioosand blessings upon the author of TaUnnte, of Rioa- 
monte, and on liim who wrote the exploits of the connt de TomiUs 1 
IVilh wliitt punctaility do they descnbe everything! 

I s»}-, thsD, tkut, after the carrier hod visited bis mate^ sad given 

W VON Qinxon. 

Üiem tbeir second oontM, he laid himself down upon his puineb, in 
cxpectHlion of hb most panotu&l Maritornes. SaDclio was already 
Mastered, tnd in bed ; and, though he endcavoutcd to sleep, the paia 
of his ribs would not allow him ; and Don Quixote, from the sune 
cause, kept his e^es wide open bs those of a, hare. The vhde inn 
iras in profound aUence, and contained no other lieht than what pra- 
ee«ded from a lamp whioh hung in the middle of the enlr;. This 
luarrellous stillness, and the thoughts of our Lnight, which incessanllj 
recnrred to those adrentnres so cocnmon in the mrnals of chivalry, 
' ' ' 'is itn^nnation oiie of the strangest whims that can well 
" ' . ., , 1 ome famoos castie, 

^ _,. is fine appearance, 

d become enamoured of liim, and hod proroised to steal tliat nisht 

privstelr to him, and pass some time with him. Ttien, taking all tliia 
cbimera formed by himself, for reality, he began to feci some alarm, 
EeiflectW on tlie dangerous trial (o wliich his Gdelitjr was on the 
point ofbcinp exposed ; but resolved in his heart not l« commit di»- 
Myalt}- against his ladf Dulcinea del Toboso, thongh Queen Gioehn 
herself, with the lady Quiutaniaua, should present tbemscives before 

^Vliilat his thoughts wet« occiqued by these exbaragaaoes, the 
honr — en nnlue):; one to him— arrircd when the gentle 'Asluriu^ 
mindful of her promise, eQt«red the nom, undressed and bare-footed, 
with her hair tacked up under ■ fustian cotf, and, with silent «la 
caatious step, adranoed towarda tlie couch of her beloved. Bat 
BCorcely had sne passed the threshold of the door when Don Quixote 
heardher; and, sitting up in his bed, in spite of plasters and the 
pain of bis ribs, stretched out his arms to r«aeive his betutteaus 
damsel, who, cronching, and holding her invotii as she went, wilJl 
hands extended feeling for her lover, enconntered the arms of Don 
Quixote, who canght first hold of her by the wrist, and drawing her 
towards him (she not daring to speak a word], made her sit down on 
the bed. On touching her only gatment, though it was of canvas, it 
seemed to him to be of the finest and softest lawn; the glass beads 
that encircled her wrists, to his fancy w«« precious oriental pesrls : 
ber hura, not unlike tlune of a hone's mane, he took for threads ol 
the br^t««t sold of Anfaia, whose splewlaur obaeuree that of th« 
nm itself: and thoogh her breath, daobtleis, smelt pOTcrfiiUy of tlie 
last ni^tht 8 stale salMah, ha laneied himself inhaling a delicious and 
anmalia odoor. In ahcnt, his imagination painted ner to him in the 
ftiy tona and mannw of some priaoess described in his books, who 
minea thus adornad to nsit the waonded kni^t with whom she is in 
kfve 1 and so gixtt wu the poor gentleman's infatuation, that neither 
the tODoh, nor the br^th, nor other things the good venjch had about 
her, oould nndecetre him, although enough to make any one but a 
onier siok. So far from this, he imaginad Ihat he held the goddess 
of beaat7 in his anns¡ ani clasping her fast, in a low and amorous 
Toice he aaid to her: "Ol th^ Iwov in a state, beautiful and 
exalted lady, to return so rast a favour as this you confer upon me, 
by jnui: oharmiag preoeuee 1 but fortune, never weary of persecuting 
the good, ia pleased to lay me on this bed, so bniiaed end disabled 
that, how muoh soever I ms? be inclined to conviiioe you of my 
devotion, it is impossible: to which is added another still greater 
imposHbüity — tiie plighted faith I han sworn to the peeTleü Uul- 



einca del Tohoso, solo mistress of my most recondite thonihts ! Had 
not lliesc articles intervened, I sbould not liave been so insensible a 
kai.^htas (« let slip the Itappy opportunity witli wluch jour great 
goednesa lias faroured me," 

Maritornes was in the utmost vexation at bcin;; tlias confined by 
Don Quixote; and, not heating or attending to what lie said, slin 
Btrufrsied, witlioat speaking a word, to release herself. Tlie goad 
currier, uliom evil thou^hls had kept awake, hariag heard his fair 
one from the ñret raomeitt alie enteird the duor, listened attentively 
to all that Don Quixote said ; and 'suspecting that the Asturias 
nnnph had phtyed false with him, he advanced towards Don Quixote's 
bed, and stood still, in order to discover the tendency of his discourse, 
whiob. however, he could uot understand ; but, seeiiisr that the wench 
atrugiiled to ^et from him, and that Don Quixote laboured to hold 
her, aiidalso not liking the jest, he lifted un his arm, and discharged 
M terrible a blow on the kntliom jaws of the enamoured kni^lit^ that 
his moulh was bathed in blood; and, not content with tliis. he 
mounted upon his ribs, and paced them somewhat above a trot fram 
one end to the other. The Md, which was crazy, and ¡Is foundations 
none of the strongest, being unable to hear the additional weight of 
the oartier, came down to the ground with sneh a ernsh that tlie inn- 
kec^ awoke; and. liavin;; called aloud to Alaritomcs without 
receivins an answer, he immediatelv conjectured it v/:is some alTair in 
which she was concerned. With tliia suspicion he arose, and, light- 
ing a candle, went to the place where he had beard the Ijustle. The 
wench, seeing her master coming, and knowing his furious disposi- 
tion, retreated in terror to Saaclio Paiuia'a bed, who was now asleep ; 
and there rolled herself into a baL. The innkeeper entered, callinjc 
out, " Where are j'ou, strumtjet P fur these are some of your doings. * 
Saneho was now disturbed^ and feeling such a mass upon lum, 
fancied he bad got the nightmare, and began to lay about him on 
every side ; and not a few of his blows reached Maritornes, who, pro-' 
Toked by the smart, oast aside all decorum, and made Sancho such a 
Tetara in kind that she cffectuaily roused him from sleep, in spite of 
tia drowsiness. The squire linding himself thus treated, and withoai 
ktu>winK bj; whom, raiaed htmsclf up as well as he could, and 
enpplea with Mantornes - and there began between them the most 
olMtuwte and delightful skirmish in the world. The carrier, per- 
wivins, by the hsht of the host's candle, how it fared with his 
mistreáL quitted Don Quixote, and ran to her assistance. The land- 
lord followed him, but with a different intention ; for it was to 
(diastise the wench, oonolading that she was the sole occasion of all 
this harmony. And so, as the proverb says, the cat to the rat, the 
tat to the H>pe, and the rope to the post : the carrier belaboured 
Banoho, Sancho the wenoh, tlie wenoh Sancho, and the innkeeper the 
vencb ; ^ redoubling their blows without i¡it«rmÍESÍon : and the best 
of it was, the landlord's candle went out; when, being left in the 
dark, they indiscriminately thrashed each other, aud with so little 
]uercy that every blow left its mark. 

It happened that there lodged that night at the inn, an offloer 
belonging to the holy brotherhood of Toledo-; who, hearing the 
BlrenM noise of the scuffle, seiied his wand and the tin-boi which 
held his oommiasion, and entered the room in the dark, onlling out, 
" forbear, in the mune of justioe ; forbear, in the name of the holf 


brotherlood." And the first he encountered was the battered Don 
Quixote, who hj senseless on his demolisbed bed, stretched upon his 
back : and, laying hold of his beiird as be was groping- about, he cried 
ont reiicatedly, I char)^ jouto aid and assist nie;'* but, finding 
that Ine person whom he heldwss motioulrss, he conchided that he 
was dead, and that tlie people in the room were his murderers. Upon 
which he raised his voice stdl louder, crving, " Shut the inn door, and 
let none escape ; for here is a man murdered ! " These words startled 
them all, aod the conflict instantly ceased. The landlord withdrew lo 
his chamber, the carrier to his "pajinels, and the wench to lier straw : 
the unfortunate I>on Quixote and Sancho alone were incapable of 
moving. The officer now let ro the heard of Don Quixote, and, in 
order to search alter and secure the delinquents, he went nut for a 
light, but couid find none; for fhe innkeeper had puriiosely extin- 
guished the lamp, when he retired to his chamber; and therefore he 
was obliged to have recourse to the chimney, vhere, after much time 
trouble, be lighted another lamp. 


Wierein an enntinutd the innumgraili ditaHtrt &ti hffi tA» hmrt Dan 
Qmitif^ ami 4ú good ijnrt Sancho i'atua ñ ¡it tan «iúi kt 
unAappilji toei/oT a catUt. 

DoM Quixote by this time bad omne to bimself, and, in the same 
dolorous tone in which the day before he had called to liis squire, 
when he 1^ extended in the valley of pack-staTei, be now asain 
called to him, aayii^, " Sancho, fnend, art thou asleep P art than 
asleep, friend SanchoP" "How should I sleep ? woe is me!" 
answered Sancho, full of trouble and vexation ; " for I think all the 
devils in hell have been with me to-nipbt," " Well mayat thou believe 
80," answered Don Quixote; "for either I know nothing, or tbia 
castle is enchanted. Listen to me, Sancho,— but what I am now 

Saiug to disclose thou must swear to keep secret until after my 
eath." " Yea, I swear," answered Sancho. "I require this," said 
Don Quixote: "because I would not injure the reputation of tuj 
one." " I tcU yon I do swear," replied Sancho ; " and will keep it 
secret nnlil your worship's death, and Heaven grant I may discover 
it to-morrow." " Have I done thee so much evil, Sancho," answered 
]>>n Quixote, "that thou shouldst wish for my decease so very aoonP" 
"It ¡snot for Ihal," answered Sancho; "but lam an enemy to hold- 
ing thinirs long, and would not have them rot in my keeping." "Bo 
it Tor what it will," said Bon Quixote, "I coufide in thy love aod 
courtesy, and therefore I bform thee that this nisbt a most extra- 
ordinarv adventure has befallen me; aod, to tell it briefly, thou must 
know that, a little while since, I was visited by the daui(hter of the 
lord ofthisoastle,who is the most accomplished and beautiful damsel 
to be found over a great part of the habitable earth. How could I 
describelbepraeesof her person, the sprigbtlincas of her wit, and the 
mnuj other hidden chanus which, Irom tbie respect I owe to mj ladr 


ma EviL FuoHT. 69 

Dulmnca del Toboso I shall pass over undescribed ! All that I am 
nerniilUd to say is tliat Heaven, jealous of the great hapiiinf^ss that 
fortune liad put iii my possessioa, or, wliat is more probable, this 
tastie being f ucbtnted, just bs we were eusnt^ed ¡u most aveet and 
lOKiFous cooTersation, an invisible hand, affiled to the arm of some 
monstrous giant, ^ve ntc so violent a blow ihat my moulh was bathed 
in tíooil, tad afterwards so liniiscd me t' ' ' 
state tWi tJiat nbertin the fury of the i 
owina to the iodiscrctioB of Hoziiiante. 
the treasure of this damsel's beauty is pi 
Moor, and therefore out lo bo approaclii 
«either," imsnereii Saucho ; " for more thai 
buffeted me ia such a man'uer that tbe bast 
(arts and cheesecakes to it. But tell me 
exeellent and rare «¡dventure, nhicli Las lefl 
that it vaa quite so bad with your worshi 
that iaeomparable beauty ivbom yon speak 
I but the heaviest blows t!mt I hope I shi 
Woe is me, and the moUicr that bctfe mc ! 
nor ever mcnn to be one ' jret, of all our mii 
falls to lay share." " What, hast thon liki 
DoD Quixote. "Have not I told yoa aoF 

faoth Sancho, "Console thyself, friend," 
wilt sow make tbst precious btdsam a 
tirinldiiiK of an eye." At this momeat I 
his lamp, altered to CKaniinc the person ni 
been miutlered-, and Saneho, seeiae hiin i 
Bightcap on his head, s lamp in bis hand, a 
^ll-bvoured, asked hii master if it was tk 
tofinisU the correetion he liad bestowed u| 
Ün Alow," answered Dob Quiiote; for 
thenuelves to be risible." "If they do no 
«ill be füit," said Saucho : " wltacsa my si 
apeak, too," answixed Don Quixote. " '. 
eridcDoe lo convince tu that he whom 

The officer, finding thorn eomniuniDB; ¡d so calm a maimer, stood in 
Mtonishmrnt : altliooi^h it ¡a true that Dou Quixote still Liy flat on tus 
hack, 101^ to stir, from bruises and plostci-s. Tbeofficer apiiroacbed 
hnn, and said, " H ell. my p»d fellow, how are you ? " I would 

£ speak more reepcetfully," answered Dwi Quixote, " were 1 in your 
lace. Is it the fu:íhion«f tl lis country, blockhead, tbus to adiliess 
ni^bts-arrant F " The oüieer not disposed to bear this lanKuaje from 
one of so scurvy an aspect, lifted up bis lamp, aod dasbt'^d it, with all 
its eont cuts, at the headof Don Qui:cote, and then made bis retreat in. 
tha dark, " Burcly," quoth Saiicho Pango, " thb must lie the en^ 
ebanted Moor; and be reserves the treasure for others, and for us 
only Ssty^iiffs and lainp-sliols." ° " It is even so," answered Don 
Quixote; "and it is to no purpose to regard these eflairs of enchant- 
ments, or to be out of liuniour or atigry with them ; for, bein? mvi- 
nble, and mere phantoms, all eudcavours to seek revenue "ould bo 
fruitlras. Biae, Sancho, if Uiou cou^t, oud call the govccsor of this 

* Id tlw original, Caadiiatot, ia acsw-coluad word. 



fortress, and procore me some oil, wine, salt, and ro5cnint7, to mnlte 
the heaiinfc bulsum ; fiu' iii truth 1 want it inutli Lit ttiis time, as ilia 
wound tliis pliiinlotii liiis ¡riven me bleeds vcrv fast." 

Sandio got up wilii iicliiiii; bimes; and, ¡¡a Iiewiisprnceedin-jintlie 
dark towards tlie landlord's cliambcr, be met ihit olliccr, wiio iros 
watchiii? tlie movcraeiils of his enemy, and said to hiui, " Sir, who- 
ever yciu ure, do us the favour and kiiidnc.-!<s to lu'lp ustoalilllc 
rosemnry, oil, sail, and wHnc ; for they are Wiinted lo cure oiie of liic 
best knis-'lils-etraiit in the world, who lies there, sorclv womidrd by 
the hands of the enchanted Uoor who is is this inu. The ollicer, 
hcariu;; this took him for n maniac; and, as the day now bewail lu 
dawn, he o|>cncd ihc inn-door, and enlliit'.; the host, tuld him what 
^nciio wanted. The iunkneiHT furnished him wiih wliat he desired, 
and Sancho carried ihcii) to Don Qnixxtc. who hiy with liis hamls on 
his heud, eoiii|>laiinni; of Iho iioiu eiitiscd by the lam]i. which. how< 
ever, bad dune him no other hntt tlian raíain;; a coiipin aí lolorahla 
brge timiours ; wliat he took for bl'KNl bt'in:; oii)y muihturf , orca- 
sioned by the pelt ins of the storm wliieh had iual blown oi'er. In tine, 
he took his smiples, and ni»dc a c<jni|x)iina of Ihrin, mixing Ihetn 
t<^ether, and botliiii: thcin pome lime, until he Ihon^lit llie ntr\iure 
bad arrivi'd at the cKuet point, lie then a.'^kcd lor a vial to hold it ; 
but, as there was no such thinz in the inn, ho reiudved to put it in a 
cruse, or tin oit-llask. of vliich the host made hini a present. This 
bein!{ done, he pmiLouiiccd over the cruse above four.seore pafer- 
noaters, and a.s many ave-marias, salves, and credos, aecompaiiyins 
every woid with a cross, hv wiiy of bi'nrdicl ion ; oil which was per- 
formed in the prciicnee of Sanciio. Ihc innkci'jier, and tlie olfirrr. As 
' for tlie carrier, be had cone soberly about tbc husinei^s of tending his 
mules. Ilavins cinnpleted (he o|)eration, Don Quixote resolved to 
make triol immediately of the viituc of that precious balsam; and 
therefore drank about a pint and a half of what reiiinined in the pot 
■wherein it was boiled, after the crose wa.i filled ; and se;irrcly hod he 
swallowed the potion when it was rejected and followed by so violent 
a retching that notliiii;;'nas left on his stomach. To the pain and 
exertion of the vomit, a copious perapiration snccecdiit'j, he desired 
to be covered up warni,aaa left alone. They did so, and lie continued 
asleep above three Jioura, when he awoke, and found himself grciilly 
reheved in his body, and his battered and bruised members so mucli 
restored that he considered himself as perfcclly recovered, and was 
thoroujihly pcrsuad<'d that he was in posscsbioa of Ihc tnie biJ^iim of 
Fierabrás ; and conseijnently, with such o remedy, he niijiht thence- 
forward encounter, without fear, all dangers, battles, and conflicts, 
however hazardous. 

Sancho I'anzo, who likewise took bis master's amendment for a 
miracle, desired l)e woul<l give him what remained in the pot, which 
was no small ((uantify. This re(| nest being granted, he tmik it in both 
band», and. with Rood faith and better will, swallowcil downrery 
little less than his master hod done. Now the case wa.*), that poor 
Sanclio's stomach was not so delicate as that of his master; and, 
therefore, before he could reject it, lie endored stich p!"i™i and Inath- 
injra. i*itb such eold sweats and fninCin^s, that he verily thought his 
last hour wiis come; and findin? himsell' so «fBicteil attd tormented, 
be cursed the bidsam, and the thief that had Riven it him. Don 
Quixote, aeeins him in that coudition. nid : " 1 believe, Sancho^ that 


tU tbis mischief hath befallen thee because than art not dubbed a 
knight; for I am of opitiicin this lii^uor can do good otilf to tliosa 
who tm of that order." " If jour worshijj knew Ihat," replied 
Sancho.—" erü betide me and al! my peneration ! why did jou siiffer 
me to drink it Í " By Ibis time the bevenwre commenced its opera- 
tion, and tlie poor siraire was relieved so many ways, and with so much 
prccipitatbn, tliat the rusK mat upon whiph he laid was never after 
fit for use He sw^ed and sweated a^'uin, with sut^h faintings and 
ahtverin^'lils. that not onlv liimsclf, but all present thought he was 
eipirinz. This hurricane lasted near two hoars ¡ aod left him, not 
sound like his master, but so eiliausled and shattered timt he was 
uuable to stand. Don Quísole, fccün?, as we stud before, quite 
renovated, was moved to take his depaiture imcnediateiy in <|uest of 
atiicutuves, thinkine tliat by ever/ moment's delay he was de])rivini 
the world of tiis nía and protection : and more especially as he felt 
secure and eoulldent in ihc virtues of his balsam. Tlius stimulated, 
he Siuldled Itozínante «ilh bis own hands, asd pannelted Ihc ass of 
his siguire, whom he also helped to dress, and afterwards to niounf. 
He tlien mounted himself, and, having observed a pike in a corner of 
the inn-yard, he look piissessíon of it to serve him for a lance. All 
the peo|)le in the itin, above twenty in number, stood gming at him : 
aad,amongthe rest, the host's dau^bter, while lie on bis part i-emovecl 
not his eyes from her, and ever and unon sent forth a si;;h whieli 
seemed torn from the bi^tomof bis bowels: nil believing it toproceed 
from pain in his ribs, at least those who the night before had seen how 
he was plastered. 

Being now both moonted, and at the door of the inn, he called to 
the host, and, in a grave and solemn tone of voice, said to him ; — 
" Many and great are the favours, signor governor, whieli iulhisvour 
castle 1 have received, and I am bound to be grateful to you all tits 
days of my life. If I can make yon some compensation, by taking; 
vengeance on any proud miscre.aut who bath insulted yon, know that 
the duty of my profession is no other tlian to sireiigthen the weak. 
to reven^-c Ihe injured, and to cliasi ise the perfidious. Consider, and 
if yonr memory recalls aaythinj of this nature to recommend to me, 

Sou need only declare it; for I promise you, by the order of knight- 
ood 1 have received, to procure you saltsfaction and amends to 
your heart's desire! The host answered with the same gravity: 
Sir knight, I bare no need of your worship's avenging any wront; 
for me ; I know buw to take the proper revenge, when any injury is 
done me : all I desire of your worship is to nay me for what you have 
had in the inn, aa well for the straw and birfey for your two beasts, ns 
for your supper and hidging." " What! is this an inn?" cTcUimed 
Don Quiiote. " Aye, and a very creditable one," answered the host, 
" Hitherto, then, I have been in an eiTor," answered iJoii Quiiole ; 
" for in truth I took it for a castle ; but since it is indeed no castle, 
hut ouinn, all that you have now to do is to excuse the payment', tor 
I cannot act contrary to tlie law of knights-errant, of wbom I cer- 
tainly know (havini! hitherto read nothing to the contrary) that the/ 
never mid for lodging, or niiytliitii^ else, in the inns where they 
reposed; because every accomoiodat ion is legally and justly due to 
them in return for the insufferable hardships they cnaure while m 
quest of adventures, by night and by dav, in winter and in summer. 
OB Coot and on horseback, with thirst ana vith hunger, witli heat and 

72 DOH qirixoTB. 

with coH ; salject to all I be inclemencies of íieaTen, and (o all (be 
;supon eartli." "1 see lilllo to niypiiriiose in oll'Iiis," 

wisweR-d the Iiost : " jiay me nliat is niv due, aud let ... _ 

of vouT etoriea and kniglit-crraDtriea ; ail 1 uniit is to pet my oitn." 
" Thou ait a blockhead, and a pitiful innkeeper," antncred l)on 
Quixote : so elaoping spurs to Rtuunautc, uod braudisliiiig his lance, 
he sullied out of llic inn without, opposition, and, never turning to 
see whetlicr liis squire followed iiim, was soon a good way off. 

The host, seeing liim go without paying, ran to seize on Sancbn 
Panza, who suid tfiat, since bis master «oidd not pay, neitlier would 
ke nay ; for, being squire to a knight-ermnt. the same rub uid rc;ison 
lield as good for him as for his master. Tlie innkeeper, irriuted «a 
hearing tliis, threatened, if he did not pay him, he SDOuld repent his 
ob.-itiuBcy. &ineho swore hv the order of chivEilry, «hieh his master 
hod received, that lie would not pay a single farthinsf, though it 
should cost him his life; for the laudable and aneicnt usage of 
k night s-enant should not be lost for him, aor should the s(|uires 
of future knigUta have e&use to repioacU liiin for not mainttuuing so 
just a riirht. 

Poor Saneho's illlnck wonld have it that amon^ the people in the 
inn there were four elotli-workers of S<;i.-ovia, tQreo nccdie-junkers 
from the fountain of Coidovs, and two nclshlMiurs from the miirket- 
place of lacviUo: all mercy, good-humoured, frolieksonie fellows; 
who, instigated and moved, as it appeared, h^ the self-tame spirit, 
came up to Sancho, and having disiiiounled him, one of them pro- 
duced a blanket from the landlord's bed, into whieh lie n-as iminc- 
■ diately thron'n ; but, perceiving tiwt the ceiling was too low, they 
determined to execute their purpose in the yard, which was bounded 


rds only by the sky. tiiitoer Sunelio was carried ; and, bein; 
1 in the middle of the blanket, they began to loss him aloft. 

and divert themselves with him, as with a dog at Shrovetide 
cries which the poor blanketed squire sent forth were so many and so 
loud, that fliev reached his master's cars ; who, stopping lo lisien 
•ttentively, believed that some new adventure was at hand, ontil he 
plainly recoinised the voice of tlie squire : then turuing the reins, lie 
gulloned back to the inn-door, aud fiiiding it closed, he rode round in 
search of some other entrance; but bad no sooner icaehcd the yard- 
wall, wjiieb «as not verv bi;;h, wheu he perceived the wicked sjiort 
tliey uere making; with his siiuire. lie saw him ascend and deii^'end 
through ibeairwilh so much grace and ability lliat, if hisiiidi::nation 
■nould liuvc suiTcred liim, he certainly would have laughed outright. 
He made un cITort to Rct from his horse upon the nales: but was so 
maimed and bruised that hewaa unable to alight; and therefore, retnún- 
)[igon horseback, he proceeded to vent his rage, by uttering so many 
reproaelies aud invectives against those who were tossing Sancho, that 
it is inigiossible to commit them to writing. But they suspended 
neilhertheirlaughtcruor their labour; nordid the Hying Sancho cea.'^o 
to pour forth lamentations, minpled now wilh Ihreals, now with en- 
treaties^ yet all were of no avoiL and they desisted at last only from 
pure fuli;ruo. They then brought nim hisass, aud, wrapping iiim in bia 
ehmk, mountcil hiin tlicreon. The compassionate Mantornes, seeinjí 
him so exhausted, helhoucht of helping biin to a jug of water, and 
that it nii^ht be the cooler, she felched it from the well. Sancho 
took if. and as he «as lifting it to Lis mouth, stopped OQ hearing the 

" A.oogic 


tlie most holy balsam (sliowins him tbe cruse of liouor), two drops of 
which will infallibly restore tliec." At tliese words, Sauthn, turuiiij 
his BTCS askance, said in b louder Toice : " Perhaps you have fiircot, 
sir, that I Hiniiokaiglit,oryuii\FOuldbavc me voniit up what remains 
of my inside, after la&t night's work. Keep your lii|Uor, in llic devil's 
name. Bad let me alone." tie then instantly began to drink - but at 
the first sip, finding it was water, he conld proceed no farther, and 
besouglit Maritorres to bring nim some wine : which she did 
villin^lr, and pcud for it witli her own money: fur it is indeed 
said of her that, althoug:h in that station, she had some faint traci's 
of a Christian. When Sonclio had ceased drinking, he clapped 
heels to bis ass: anti, the inn'<:ate heiiig thrown ^ndc nficn, out 
he weat, satisfied that he bad paid nothinjr, and bad carried bis point, 
though at the expense of his nsual pledge, namely, bis back. Tbe 
hndlord, it is true, retained bis wallets in payment of wbal was due 
to bim ; hut Sancbo never missed tbem in tne hurry of his departure, 
Tbe innkeeper would have fastKued the door well after him as souii 
as he saw him out ; hut the hlantetecrs would not let bim, beiuii 
persons of that sort that, thon^li Don Quixote bad really been one of 
the Knights of the Kound Tabic, they would not have cared two 
&rlhing3 for him. 


Tht diuotirtt lehiiA Sancho Pama held ritk Ai' 

Sancho came up to bis master so faint and dispirited, that he was 
not able to urge his ass fonvard. Don Quísote, perceivin™ him in 
that condition, said : " Honest Sancho, that castle, or inn, 1 am now 
convinced, is enrlianted ; for they who so cruelly sported with tbcc, 
wbal could they be but phanioms and inhabitants ot another world ? 
And I am confirmed in tliis, frnai having found that, when I stood at 
the pales of the yard, beholdmg the acts of your sad tragedy, I could not 
possibly get o»er them, nor even alight from Rozinante: solbatfbrv 
'. must certainly have held me nncbantcd; forlswenrto thee, by the faith 
' of what I am, that, if 1 could have got nrcr, or alighted, I wonki have 
avenged thee in such a manner as would have made those poltroons 
and assassins remember tbe jest as long aa they lived, even tbouj-li I 
would have thereby transgressed the laws of chivalry ; for, as I have 
often told thee, they dn not allow a knight to lay hand oo his sword 
against any one who is not so, unless it be in defence of his own 
hfe and person, and in cases of urgent and eilremc nceepsify." 
" And I too," riuoth Sancho, " would tave revenged myself if I had 
been able, knight or un knigbt, but I could not; though, in my 
opinion, they *lio diverted themselves at my expense were no hob- 
goblins, but men of flesh and bones, as we arc ; and each of them, 
as I heard while they were tossing me, had his proper mime : one 


was callni! Pedro MartinM, anofiier Tenorio Hernande:'. ; and tlio 
landlord's iiume is Jo)id Palomeiiuc, ilic left-handed : so that, sir, as 
to your not beins able to leap over tlic pales, nor to aligliC from 
your horsp, tlie fault lay not in encljautmeiit, but in sometliin? 
else. And what I gallicr clearly from all this ia, that these adven- 
tures vre arc in quest of will in Ihe Ion:; run bring us into so man; 
mis advent urea that we shall not know which is our riürlit foot. So 
that, in my poor opiniim, ihc bctfer and surer wav would lie to return 
toouryilla^-e, now that it isrenpÍos'-time,andlooK after our business; 
nor so ramlilms from Ceca tu Alineen, and out of the frcinc-pan into 
the tire." 

" How little dost thou know, Sanelio," answered Don Quixote, 
"of wliatapiierlains to chivalry! I'ence, and have patience, for the 
day will coin e when thine eves shallwilnessliow honourable a tiling it 
is to follow tliis profession : for tell nic what greater satisfaction can the 
world afford, or what pleasure can be compared with that of winiunst 
a hatlle, and Iriutiiphm? over an adversary ? Undoubtedly none." 
" It may be so," answered Sanelio^ " Ijiougli I do not know it. I only 
know tliat, since we have lieea kniglits-crront, or since you have beea 
one, sir (fori have no iii;l[t to reckon mjself of that honourable 
number), wc have never won anylKittlpj esccpt that of the liiseainer ; 
and even there youc worship came ou witli half an ear and half a 
helmet ; and from that day to this we have hud nothinjf but drubbings 
upon, cuffs n]»}ii cuffs, with my blnnkct-tossing tuto tlie 
bargain, and that by persons euclianted, on whom 1 cannot revenge 
mjacif, and thereby know what that pleasure of overcomins an 
enemy is whieh your worship talks of. "That b what troubles 
me, and ou^-ht to trouble thee, also, Sanclio," answered Don Quixote; 
" but henceforward I will endeavour to have ready at hand a sword 
mode with such art that no kind of cncliantmeot can touch him that 
wears it ; and perhaps forlune may put ine in possession of that of 
Amadis, when he «died himself 'Knight of the buruin? sword,' 
whicli was one of the best weapons that ever was worn by knight : 
for, beside the virtue aforesaid, it cut like a razor; and no armour, 
however stroi^ or enehanted, could withstand it." " Such is my 
luck," nuoth Sancho, " that though this were so, and your worship 
should find such a sword, it would oe of service only to those who aro 
dubbed kniglita,— like the balsam : as for the poor st|uirea, thcv may 
siuj sorrow." "Fear not, Sancho," said Don Quijote; "lleaTeii 
will deal more kindly by thee." 

The knipht and his squire went on conferring thus together, 
wbcn Don Quixote perceived in tbo road on which they were travel- 
lin;; a great and thick cloud of dust coming towards them ; upon 
which bo turned to Soueho, and said, " Tins is the day, Ü Sancho, 
that shall manifest the pood that fortune hath in store for nie. This 
is the day, 1 say, ou which shall be proved, as at all tunes, the valour 
of my arm; and on which I shall perform exploits tliat will be 
reeomed aud written in the book of fame, and there remain to all 
sueeeeding ages. Seest thou that cloud of dust, Sancho P It is 
raised by a prodi.rious aniiy of divers and innumerable nations^ who 
arcon the march this way. "If so, there mustbetwoorniies." said 
Sancho; " for here, on this side, arises just such another oioud of 
dust." Don Quixote turned, and seeing that it really was so, bu 
rejoiced excee^gly, taking it fur Riauted they were two armies 

" A.oogic 


coming to ensa^ in the midst of that spadous piala: for at all 
houra and momenta hia imagiaatioD waa fuU of the battles, en- 
chantnienis, adventures, eilravogancies, amonra, and cliallengca 
detailed in his favourite books; and ¡a every tliougbt, 'woni, and 
action lie rerertcd to them. Nov the cloud of dust ne saw vas 
núscd b; two great flocks of sheep eoina the same road from dif- 
ferent parts, and, as the dust concealed tliriii until they came near, 
and UouQiuiole allirmed so fhositivcly that they were ormiea, Sancho 
he^nu to believe it, and said, "Sir what then must we do'f" - 
" What 1" replied Don Quixote — " fayour and assist the weaker 
iidc! Thou must know, Sancho, tliat the army which marches 
towards U9 in front is led and commanded by uic ^rcat eiiipcror 
Alifunl'aroii, lord of the great island of Tapnibana: this other, which 
morchea IwliJnd us, is that of his enemy, tie king of the Gararaantcs, 
Pentapolin of the naked arm— for he always enters into battle with 
hi? ri^'ht arm bare," " But why do these two princes beat ons 
another so much ill-will?" demanded Sancho. They hate ouo 
another," answcredDoo Quixote, "because this Alifimfaron is afurious 
tm^an, in love with the daii^hter of Pentapolin, who is a most beau- 
tiful and superlatively ¡zraccful htdy, and &\m a Christian; but her 
father will not give her in marring to the p;untn kin», unless he will 
first renounce tlic teliirion of liis false prophet Mahomet, and turn 
t'hristian." "By my beard," said Pancho, "Pentapolin is in the 
right ; and I am resolved to assist him to the utmost of my power." 
" Therein thou wilt do tliy duty, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "for 
in order to eng^e in such contests it is not necessary to be dubbed a 
knisht." " I easily comprehend that," answered Sancho. " But 
where shall we dispose of this nss, that we may be sure to find him 
when the fray is over P for I believe it was never yet the fashion to 
go to battle on a beast of this kind." " Thou art in the right," 
said Don Quixote ; " and thou raaycst let him take his chance, whe- 
ther he be lost or not : for we shall have such choice of horses after 
the victory, that Kozinantc himself «ill run a risk of bein^ exchanged. 
But listen with attention whilst I give thee an account of the prin- 
cipal knights in the two approachini; armies ; and, that thou mayest 
observe them the better, let us relire to that rising ground, whence 
both armies may be distinctly seen." They did so, and plaoed them- 
«dves for that purpose on a hillock, from which the two flocks which 
Don Quiiote mistook for armies might easily have been discerned, 
bad not their view been obstructed by the clouds of dust. Seeing, 
bowevK, in his imamnatioa what did not eiist, be began with a 
load voice to say : The knight tliou seest yonder with the gáded 
armour, «b'^ bears on his shield a lion, crowned, concbant at a 
damsel s feet, is the valorous Laurcalco, lord of the silver bridge. 
The other, with the armour flowered with gold, who hears three 
crowns ai^nt, in a field sxurc, is the formidable Micooolembo, 
grand duke of Quitada. The third, with gigantic limbs, who marches 
on his right, is uie undaunted BraudabarhFuiin of Boliche, lord of the 
three Arabias. He is armed with a serpent's skin, and bears instead 
of a shield, a ^te, wliich fame says is one of tjiose belonging to 
the temple which Sampson pulled down wlion with his death he 
avenged himself upon bis enemies. But turn thi:ic eyes on this 
otha- side, and there tbou wilt see, in front of this other army, 
the ever victorious and never viuuiuished Timonel de Caiwion^ 


prince of the New Biscay, who comes clad in armour quartered amre, 
vert, ar^ent^ and oi'; brnrinein bis shield a cat or, in a field gules, 
with a acroU inscribed MIAU, being the beginning of hia mistress's 
Dame; who, it is reported, is the peerless Miaulina, daughter of 
Alphenniquen, duke of Algarve. That other, who burdens and 
oppresses the back of yon poweiful steed, whose armour is as white 
as snow, aud his sbield aba uhite, without any device, he is a netr 
Inieht, by birth a Frenchman, called Peter Papin, lord of the 
baronies of Utrique. The oilier whom thou seest, with hia armed 
heels pricking tíie flanks of that fleet uie-bald courser, and his armour 
of pure azure, is the mighty duke of Neibía, EspartaQ lardo of Ihe 
wood, whose device is an asparagus-bed, with this motto in Castilian, 
' Bastre* mi suerte,' ' Thus drags my fortune.' " 

In Ibis manner hewent on naming sundrr knights of eachsqnadron, 
as his fancy dictated, and giving to each their arms, colours, devices, 
' and mottoes extempore ; and, without pausing, he continued thus : — 
"That squadron in the front is formed and composed of pcojile of 
different nations. Bere stand those who drink the sweet waters of 
the famous Xanthus; the mountaineers, who tread the Ma.ssiIiaQ 
fields; those who sift the pure and fine gold-dust of Arabia Felix; 
those who dwell along the famous and rerrcshing banks of the clear 
Thennodon; those who drain, by divers and sunarr ways, the golden 
veins of Pactolus ; the Numiaíans, unfaithful in their promises ; the 
Persians, famous for bows and arrows: the Parthians and Medes, 
whofight flying; the Arabiaa%pcrpctuallvi^aiisinf their habitations; 
the Scythians, as cruel as fair ; the bruaú-lippcd Ethiopians ; and an 
infinityof other nations, whose countenances Iscc and know, although 
I cannot recollect their names. In that other squadron come tLos» 
who drink the crvstol streams of olivc-beanng ijetis ; those who 
brighten and polish their faces with the Lquor of the ever rich and 
golden Tagus; those who enjoy the beneficial walei-s of the divine 
tienil; Utose who tread the lartesian fields, abounding in jiaslure; 
those who recreate themselves in the FHysion meads of Xercza ; the 
rich Manchegons, crowned with yellow ears of com ; those clad in 
iron, the antique remains of the Gothic race; thojc who bathe Ihein- 
selves in Pisuerga, famous for the gentleness of its cnrrcut; those 
who feed llieir iloeks on the ajiacious pastures of the winding Guadi- 
ana, celelirnted for its hidden source ; those who sliiver on the cold 
browof IhcHoody Pyreneus,nnd tlie snowv to[js of lofty Appcninus; 
in a word, all that Europe contains and includes." 

Good heaven, how many provinces did he name I how many nations 
did he enumerate ! giving to each, with wouderfid readiness, its peeu- 
liar attributes. Suicho Panza stood confounded at his di»coun>e. 
without speaking a word; and now and then he turned his brad 
about, to see whether he could discover the kniglits aud giants his 
master named, llut seeing none, he said -. " Sir, the devil a man, or 
giant, or knii;lit, of all you have named, eon I sec anjwhere ; pcrlmtis 
alt may be enchantment, like last night's goblins." " How &iyest 
thou, Sancho Í" answered Don Quixote. "Ilearcst thou pot the 
neighing of the steeds, the sound of the trumpets, and the rattling of 
the drums?" "I hear nothinfr," answeri'd Sancho, "but the blcau 
ins of sheep and lambs :" and so it was ; for now the two flocks were 
come very near them. "Thy fears, Sancho," Mid Don Quixote, 
"prevent Ihcc from bearmj or seeing aiight; foe one ciTect of fear 

,..,,.. :A.OOglC 


is to dbtarb the senses, and m^e Ihioas not to nppcar wliat thejr 
reallj' are : and if tliou art eo mucli afraid, retire and lesvc mc alone ; 
for witll mf single arm J shall insure victory to that side which I 
favour with mjr assistance :" then cUppinj; spurs to Hozinante, and 
setting his hince in rest, he darted down the nillock Ute hglitiiing. 
Saneho cried out to him, "Hold, Sianor Don Quixote, come back! 
As God shall save me, they aie lambs and iherp you are going to 
encounter! Fray come back. Woe to the father that begot me! 
what madness is this ? Look; there is neither giant nor knight, nor 
cats, nor arms, nor shields quartered cor entire, nor true azures nor 
bedevilled; sinner that I ain! what are you doinft?" Notwithstand- 
ing all this, Don Quixote turned not a¿ÜD, but still went on, crying 
aloud, " Ho ! knights, you that follow and ñ^ht under the banner of 
tlic vahant Emi>eror l'enta]><>lin of the naked arm, follow me all, and 
jOQ shall sec with how muehease I revenge him on his enemy Alifan- 
faioa of Taprobana." With these words, he rushed into the midst of 
tho squadron of sheep, and be^n to attack thein with his lance as 
, oouríKcously and intrepidly aa if in good earnest he was enga^ng his 
mortal enemies. The shepherds and herdsmen who came with the 
flocks called out to him to desist ; but, seeing it was to no purpose, 
they UDbucLled tbeir slin^, and bc^an to salnte his ears with a 
shower of stones. Don Quixote careifnut for the stones ; but, (;allop- 
ing sbontonall aides, cried out, "Where ait thou, proud Ahfanl'aron? 
Present thi self before me : 1 am a single kuight, desiians to prove thy 
valour hand to hand, and to punish thee with the loss of life, for tho 
wrong thou doat to the valiant Pentapolin Garamanta." At that 
instant a Urge stone struck him niih snoh violence on the side, that 
it buriedacoupieof ribsinhis body; insomuch that he believed him- 
self cither slaiu or sorely wounded ; and tlierefore, remembering hia 
balsam, he pulled out the cruse, and applying it to his mouth, began 
to swallow some of the liquor ; but before ne oould take what he 
tbonght sufficient, another of those almonds hit hiiu full on the hand, 
and dashed the cmse to pieces : carrying off three or four of his teeth 
by the way, and grievouwy broismg two of his fingers. Such was the 
fiist bbw, and such the second, that the poor kuight fell from bis 
horse to the ground. The shepherds ran to him, and verily believed 
they had killed him; wherenpon in all hnste they collected their 
flock, took up their dead, which were about seven, and marched off 
without farther inquiry. 

All this while Sanchostoodnpon the hillock, beholding his master's 
extravagances : tearing his beard, and cursing the unfortunate hour 
and moment that ever he knew him. Uut seeing him fallen to the 
ground, and the shepherds ^ne off, he descended from the hillock, 
and, ruimin;; to him, found him iu a very ill plight, though not quite 
bereaved of sense: and said to him, "Did Inotoegyou, SignorDon 
Quixote, to come back ; for those yon went to attack were a flock of 
sheep and not anarmy of men?" " How easily," replied Don Quix- 
ote, can that thief of an enchanter, my enemy, traosform thii^a or 
make them invisible ! Thou must know, Sancho, that it is a very easy 
matter fur such men to give things what semblance they please ; and 
this malignant ^ersecator of mine, envious of the glory that he saw I 
sboold acquire in this buttle, has transformed the hostile squadrons 
into flocks of sheep. However, do one thing. Suncho, for my sake, to 
undeceive tlijself and see tlic truth of what 1 tell thee; mount (by 

, , ,. .A.OOgIC 

79 son QinXOTK, 

ass, and follow tlicm fairl; and softly, sod tliou vrtll find that, wlien 
they are ^ot a little farther off, tliey will return to their first fonn, 
and, ceasin? to be sheep, will become men, proper and tall as Í 
deacribed them at first. But do not go now; lorlwant thf assist- 
ance ; come and aee how many of my t«cth are deficient ; for it seems 
to me that 1 have not one left in myhead. Sancho cama so dose to 
him that he almost thrust bis eyes ¡uto his moutb; and bcins pre- 
cisely at the time that the balsam beftan to work in lion Quixote's 
stomachy tliecontcDts thereof wereatiliat instant discharged with as 
much violence as if shot out of a demi-culverin^ direct^ upon the 
beard oftlio compassionate squire. " Blessed Virsin ! " tjuoth &incho, 
"what has befallen me? Tliis poor sinner must be mortally wounded, 
since he vomits blood at the mouth." But, reflectins a little, lio 
found bj the colou?, savour, and smell, that it was not blood, but tlie 
balsam which be had seen him drink: and so great was the loathing 
he then felt, that his stomach tamed, and be vomited np bis very 
entrails upon his ni'ster, so that tbev were both in a precious picklo. 
Raueho ran to bis jss, to take sometliiui out of bis wallets to cleanse 
hiraseÍ4 and cure ois master ; but not finding them, he was very near 
running distracted. Ko cursed himself again, and resolved in bis 
miiid to leave his master, and return borne, although be should loss 
his wages for the time past, and bis hopes of the promised island, 

Don Quiiote now raised himself up, and, placing bis left hand on 
his moutk to prevent the remainder of his teeth from falling out, with 
the other he laid hold ou Rozinante's bridle, who had not stirred from 
his master's side, such was bis fidelity ; and went towards bis sijuire, 
tIio stood leaning with his breast upon the asa, and his cheek reclining 
upon his hand, in the posture of a man overwhelmed with thought. 
Uon Quiiote seeing bim thus, and to all appearance so melancholy, 
■aid to him : " Know, Sancho, that one man is no more tlian another, 
only inasmuch as he docs more than another. All these storms that 
we have eaconntcred are signs that the weather will soon clear up, 
and things will go smoothly; for it is impossible that either evil or 

Ead should be durable; and hence it follows that, the evil having 
ted long, the good cannot bo far oiT. So do not afflict thyself for 
the mischances that befal me, since thou hast no share in them." 
"How no share in them P" answered Sancho : " persdventure he they 
tossedinablanket yesterday was not my father's son; and thewallela 
I have lost to4ay, with all my moveables, belong to somebodv else P " 
■' "VVTiat, are the wallets lost ? '' quoth Don (juiioie. " Yes. tliey are," 
answered Sancho. " Then we have nothing to eat," repUed 
Don Quixole. " It would be so," answered Sancho, " if tnose fields 
did not produce those herbs which your worsliip says you know, and 
with which unlucky knights-errant uke your worship areusedt» snp- 

{ly such wants." "Nevertheless," saidlJonQuixote, "at this time 
would rather have a slice of bread and a couple of heads of salt pil- 
ohards than all the herbs described bv Dioaeondes, thongh commenWd 
upon by Doctor Laguna* húnself. But. good Sancho, get upon thj 
OSS, and follow me; for God, who proriaes for all, will not desertas; 
more especially, being enga¿ed, as we are, in liis service : since Ho 
nesrlects neither the gnats of the air, the womis of the earth, nor the 
spawn of the waters i and so merciful is He, that llemaketh His sun 

* Andre* da laguna, t>aiii at Scgovlo, and Pbyñcian to Popo Julio III. 

,;,,. .A.OOgIC 

to sKInE upon the pood and the bai and canseth the rain to fsU upon 
the just and unjust." " Your Ttiirsfiip," said Sancho, " would tiiake a 
bellcrprcacherthanaknight-emtut. " Sancho," said Don Quiiote, 
" the knowlcd^ of k nights -errant must be universal ; there have been 
knights -errant, in times past, whov ould make aennons or hanuij^es 
ontliektng'shiiihwav,assuccrssfullía3Íf thejbad taken I heir derrees 
in tlie UniYcrsity of Paris : whence it may be iuferred that the Wee 
never blunted the pen, nor the pen the Unce." "Well! be it aa your 
worship says," anstrercd Sancho ; " but let ns be gone hrnce, and 
endeavoar to get a lodging to-ni|;ht : and pray heaven it be where 
there are neitlier blankets nor blanket-heavers, nor hobgoblins nor 
enchanted Moors ; for if tliere be, the devil take both the flock and 
the fold." 

" Prev to God, mj; son," said Bon Qaiiote, " and lead me whither 
thou wilt; for this time I leave our lodging to thy eboice ; but reach 
liither thy hand and fee) how many teeth are wanting on the right 
side of my upper jaw ; for there I feel the pain," Sancho put ion 
£nger into his mouth, and feeling about, said : " How many teeth had 
TOur worship on this aidef" — "Four," answered Don Quiiote, 

besides the eye-tooth, all perfect and sound." "Think well what 
Tou say, sir," answered Siuicho. " I say four, if not five," answered 
Don Quiiote ; " for in my whole Ufe I never had a tooth drawn, nor 
have I lost one bv rheum nor decay." " Well, then," slid Sancho. 
" on this lower siae your worship has but two teeth and a half; and 
in the upper, neither half nor whole : all is as smooth and even aa the 

Én of my hand." " Unfortunate that I am I" said Don Quiiol*. 
ring these aad tidings from hia squire ; " I had rather they had 
UiTD off an arm, provided it were not the sword-arm ; for tlion must 
know, Sancho, tt^t a mouth without teeth is Lke a mill without a 
stone; and that a diamond is not so precious as a tooth. But to all 
this wo who profess the strict order of chivalry are liable. Mount, 
£iend Sancho, and lead on ; for I will folbw tbcc at what pace tiiou 
wilt." Sancho did bo, and proceeded in a direction in which he 
tlioaght it probable they niight find a lodgiiw, without going out of 
the high-rimd, which in that part was muef fre(|uented. As they 
slowly puraued their wai?, for the pain of Don Quinote's jaws fjave 
him no ease, nor inclination to make haste, Sancho, witihing to amuse 
and divert him, began to converse: uui said among otuer tbmgs 
what will be found in the following chapter. 


" It is my opinion, air, that all the misfortunes which have befallen 
Tis of late are douhtiess in punishment of the sin committed by your 
worship against your own order of knighthood, in nealcctin? to per- 
form the oath yon took, not to eat hread on a tablecloth, nor solace 
foonelf with the qaeen, with alt the rest that you swoie, until you 


60 1>0S QÜKOTB. 

luid taken nvay the helmet of lifalandrmo — or hovr do fou call the 
Moor, for I do not well remember ? " " Sandio, tliou art in the 
right," said Don Quiiote ; " but, to confess the truth, it had wholly 
escaped my memory ; and rely unon it, the afTair of liie blanket hap- 
pened to tbee as a puniishnieut tor not haviu;? reminded me sooner : 
but I will make compensation; for in the order of chivnlry there ara 
ways of compounding for everythini;." " Wliy, did I swear any- 
thing?" siud Sancbo. "That Ihou hast not sworn araila tliee do- 
tiling," replied Don Quiiol«; "it i» enough that I know thou art not 
free from the guilt of an accessary ; and, at all events, it will not h» 
amiss to provide ourselves a remedy." " If that be the case," said 
Sancho, take care, sir, you do not foi^t this, foo^ as you did the 
oath: perhaps the ^blins may aiuu take afancytodivcrltliemselTCS 
witli me, or with your worship, if they find you so obstinate." 

While they were thus discoursing, night overtook tiiem, and they 
were still in the high-road, without having foand any place of recep- 
tion ; and the worst of it was they were lamislied with Imnger ; for 
with their wallets they had lost their whole larder of provisions, and 
to complete their misfortunes an adventure now beid them which 
appeared indeed to be truly an adventure. The night came ou raiher 
dark ; notwithstanding which they proceeded : as Sancho hoped that, 
being on the king's highway, they might very probaWy find an inn 
wilhjn a league or two. Tiius situated, the night dart, the sc|uire 
hungry, and the master well disposed to cat, tliey saw, advancing 
towards them, on the some road, a great number of^lights, resembling 
so many moviag stars. Sancho stood aghast at the sight of them, nor 
was Don Quiiote unmoved. The one checked ins ass and the other 
his horae, and both stood looking before them with eager attention. 
They perceived that the lights were advancing towards them, and 
that ns they approached nearer they appeared larger. Sancho trem- 
bled like quicksilver at the sight, and Don Quixote's hair bristled 
upon his head: but, somewhat recovering lumself, be exclaimed: 
" Sancho, this must be a most perilous adventure, wherein it will be 
necessary for meto eiert my whole might and valonr." "Woe is me !" 
answered Sancho : " shoula this prove to be an adventure of goblins, 
as to me it seems tobe, where sliall I find libs to endure?" What- 
soever phantoms tliey may be," said Don Quijote, "I will not suffer 
them Ut touch a thread of thy garment; for, if thev sported with 
thee before, it was because I coula not get over the walL : but we are 
now upon even ground, where I can brandish my sword ot pleasure." 
" But, if they should enchant and benumb you, as they did then," 
quoth Sandio, " what matters it whether we are in the open field, or 
not?" "Notwithstanding that," repiiedDon Quiiote, " I beseech 
tlicc, Sancho, to be of good cour^: for eipericoce shall give thee 
sufficient proof of mine." "I will, if it please God," answered San- 
cho ; and, retiring a little on one ude of the rood, and again endea- 
vouring to discover what those walking lights miirht be. they soon 
after perceived a great many persons clothed in white. This dread- 
ful spectacle completely annihilated the courage of Sancho, whose 
teeth began to chatter, as if seized with a quartan ague; and hia 
trenibling and chattering increased as more of it apjieared in view : 
for now they discovered about twenty jiersons id white robes, oil on 
horseback, with lighted torches in their hands -, behind them came a 
litter covered with bkok, which waa followed by six peisons in deep 



Uigniaüb, Google 

Uigniaüb, Google 


70a wonlii cammit & great sncrilege ; for I am a licentiate, and Iiave 
taken the leaser nrders." " Who the devil, then-" said Don Quixote, 
"brouttht you hither, being an ecclesiastic?" Who, airP" replied 
the fallen man; "my evil fortune." "A worse fate now threatens 
you," said Bon Quixote, "unless you reply satisfactorily to ail m; 
first (jnestiona." "Your worship shall soon be satisfied," answered 
the liceDtiate; "and therefore you must know, sir, that, though I 
told you before I was a licentiate, I am in fact only a bachelor of art^ 
and my name is Alonzo Lopez. I am a native of Alcovecdas, and 
came from the city of Baeza, with eleven more ecclesiastics, the same 
■who fled with the torches ; we were attending the corpse in that litter 
to the city of Segovia. It is that of a gentleman who died in Baeza, 
where he was deposited till now that, as I said before, we are canyini 
his bones to their place of bnrial in Segovia, where he was bom. 
"And who killed himP" demanded Don Quiiote. " (?od," replied 
the bachelor, "by means of a pestilential fever." "Then," said 
Don Quixote, " our Lord hath saved me the labour of revenpng his 
death, in case he had been símq by any other hand. But, smce be 
fell by tlie hand of Heaven, there is nothing eipected from us but 
patience and a silent sbnig : for just the same must I have done had 
it been His pleasure to pronounce tbe ^tal sentence upon me. It is 

$ roper that your reverence should know that I am a knight of La 
Ianclia,Don Quixote byname ; and that it is my office and profession 
to eo over the world, rigliting wTonjra and redressina; gnevanees." 
"Ido notunderstacdyourway of righting wronff3,"síi!a the bachelor: 
" for from right you have set me wroug, havtne orokeu my lefr, wliich 
will never be right again whilst I live ; and the grievance you have 
redressed for me is to leave me so aggrieved that I shall never be 
otherwise ; and to me it was a most omucky adventure to meet you, 
who are seeking adventures." " All tbinj^s, answered Don Quijote, 
" do not fall out the same way : the mischief, master bachelor Alonzo 
Lopez, was occasioned by your coming, as you did, bv night, arrayed 
in those snrptices, with hghl«d torches, chanting, and clad in doleful 
weeds, so that you really resembled something evil and of the otber 
world. I was therefore bound to perform my duty, by attacking you : 
which I certainly should have done although jou nad really been, as I 
imagined, devils from hcil." " Since my fale ordained it so," said the 
baeliejor, " I beseech you, Signor Kni|:ht-errant, who have done me 
such arrant mischief, to help me to get from under this mule, for my 
leg is held fast between the stirrup and the saddle." " 1 might have 
coutbued talking until to-morrow, said Don Quixote; "why did you 
delay Bcqnaiuting rao withyour embarrassment?" He then called out 
to Sancho Panza to assist: but he did not choose to obey, being em- 

Eloycd in ransacking a sumpter-mule, which those pious men had 
rou^ht with Iheiii, well stored witli eatables. Sancho made a bog- of 
his illoak, and bavinK crammed into it as much as it would hold, he 
loaded his beast; uter which he attended t« his master's call, and 
lielped to disrnjnge the bachelor from the oppression of his mule; 
una, having; mounted him and given him the torch, Don Quixote bade 
hiui follow the track of his companions, and beg ilieir pardon, in his 
nnme, for the injury which lie coald not avoid doiug them- Sancho 
likewise sai<t, " If perchance those genllemeu would know who is the 
t'h»muion that routed them, it is the fnmous Don Quixote de la 
Moncha, otherwise called ' the knight cd the sonowf ul ñsant.' " 



, h* 

tLanaiauyother. "I will telljou," answered Sancho; "itisbecaose 
I have been viewinz joa b; the li;;lit of the torch, which th&t nn/or- 
tunatc man carriea; and. in truth, vonr worship at present verj 
nearly makes the most woeful figure I have ever aeen; which must be 
owing, I suppose either to the fatizue of this combat, or tjie want of 
jour teeth. " It is owing to neither," replied Don Quixote ; '' bat 
the sajce, who bos the cbai^ of writing the histor; of my achieve- 
nients, has deemed it proper for me to assame on appeUatioji, like the 
knights of old i one of whom citlled hiuiaelf 'the knight of the 
burning sword;' another 'of the unicorn;' this 'of the damsels;' 
that 'of the phcenix;' another 'the knight of the griffin;' mm 
another 'the knight of death;* and by those names and eiuigns thej 
were known over the whole «orfaee of the earth. Aud therefore I 
sa; that the sage I jiut now mentioned has pat it into thv thoughtB 
and into thy moutb to call me 'the knight of the sorrowful figure,' m 
I purpose to call myself from this day forward ; and that this name 
may fit me the better, 1 determine, when «n onportunity offers, to 
bate a most sorrowful figure painted on my shield. " You need not 
spend time and money in getting this figure made," said Sancho; 

your worship need only show your own, and, without any other 
iniage or sbiclo, tbey will immediately call you ' him of the sorrowful 
figure;' and be assured I tell you Ute truth; fori promise you, sir 
(mind, I speak in jest), that hnnKsr and the loss oi your grinders 
makes you look so mefully that, as I said before the sairowfuTpiotare 
may very well be sp^ed. 

tkm Quixote smiled at Sancho's pleasantry ; nerertbcleas, he 
resolved to call himself by that name, and to have his sliield or 
buckler painted accordingly, and be said: "I conceive, Sanolio, thai 
I am liable to excommunication for having laid violent hands on hoi; 
thinga, ' Juita iUud, Siuuis sundente diabolo,' &c. ; although I know 
I dia not lay my hands, Dut my spear, upon them. Besides, I did not 
know that I was engaging with priest^, or things belonging to tbe 
Church, which I reverence and adore, like a goodCathoLc and faith- 

ful Christian as I am, but with phantoms ana spectres of the otbw 
■world. And even were it otherwise, I perfectly remember what 
bcfel the Cyd Euy Diaz, when he broke the chair of that king's ambas- 
sador in the presence of his holiness tlie Pope, for which hewasexoom- 
municated; >et honest Bodcrigo da Vivar passed that day for aa 
bonourable and courageous knight." 

The bachelor having departed, as hath been said, Don Quixote 
wished to examine whether the corpse in the heane consisted only of 
bones or not ; but Sancho would not consent, saying, " Sir, your 
worship bas finished this perikius adventure at less expense than anr 
I have seen; and though these folks are conquered and defeated 
they mav chance to refiect that they were beaten by one man, and, 
being asaamed thereat, may recover themselves, and return in quest 
of 03, and then we ma^ have enough to do. The ass is properly 
furnished; the mountain is near; hungerpreBses,andwB have nothing 
to do hut decently to march off; and, aa the saying is, ' To the prave 
wilU the dead, and tiie liviag to the bread;'" imd, driving on his ^ 
before him, he entreated his master to follow; who, thinking Sancho 
in the tiiflit, followed without replying. They had not gone for 


84 DOH quaoTB. 

between two hills, when thej found themseWes in a retired and 
spacious valley, where they alighted. Soncbo disburdeoed his beast ; 
and, entended on the green grass, with hunger for sauce, tliey des- 
patched their breakfast, dinner, afleniooii's luncheon, and sapper, all 
at once : regaling their palates with more than one cold mess, which 
the ecclesiastics wlio attenilcd the deceased (such gentlemen seldom 
failing in a provident attention to tbemselvcs) liad brougbt witb them 
on the sumpter-mule. But there was anolher mbfortune, wliicb 
Sancho accounted the worst of all j namely, they had no wine, nor 
even water, to drink ; and were, moreover, parched with thirst, 
^Pf— ---'■- ' -' - ^ '- ■ 

p _id £■ 

following chapter. 


Of lit unparalUlid adventur, 
with Itu haiard than an 
inight ñ the morid. 

" It is impossible, air, but then) must be some fonntajn or brooknear, 
to make these herbs so fresh, and therefore, if we go a little farther 
on. Vie may meet with something fo quench the terrible thirst that 
afliicts OS, and which is more painful than hunger itself." Don 
Quixote approved the counsel, and, taking Itozinante by the bridle, 
and Sancho his ass by the halter (after he nad placed upon him the 
kUcs of the supper), the; began to march forward throueh the meadow, 
feeling their way ; for the night was so dark, they could see nothing. 
But they had not gone two hundred paces when a great noise of water 
reached their ears, like that of some mighty cascade pouring down 
irom a vast and steep rock. The sound rejoiced them exceedingly, 
and, stopping tfl liatenwbenceit came, they heard on asuddcnanother 
dreadful noise, which abated the pleasure occasioned by that of the 
water ; especially m Sancho, who was naturally faint-iiearted. 1 sav 
they heardT a dreadful din of irons or rattling chains, accompanied with 
mighty strokes repeated in regular time and measure; which, together 
with tlie fiirious noise of the water, would have struck terror into any 
nther heart hut lliat of Don Quinóte. The night, as wo have bcfora 
said, was dark: and llicv clianced tocnteragroveof tall trees, whoso 
leaves, agilalea bv the nree;ic. caused a kind of rustljns noise, not 
loud, tliough rcnrfnl : so that tlic solitude, llic situation, tíie darkness, 
and the sound of rushiiig water, willi the agitated leaves, all concurred 
to produce surprise and horror, esnecially wlicn Ilicy fouud that neither 
the blow) ceased, nor the wind slept, nor the morning approached; 
and m addition I«all this was their total ignorance of the place where 
they were in. But Don Quixote, supi«rted by his intrepid heart, 
leaped upon Koiinanle, and, bracing on his buckler, bninaished his 
spear, and Aaid : "Friend Sancho, know that, by the will of Heaven, 
t was bom in this age of iron to revive in it that of gold, or, as it ia 
uniallr tvraied, ' Ibe golden ■)[«.* I am he for whom dangers, great 



twelve peers of France, and the nine worthies ; and to oblitertt« the 
memory of the Pbtirs, the Tablantes, OlifanteB, and Tirantes, ' knight* 
of the SQU.' and the Belianiaea, with the whole tribe of the famoiia 
kniriits-crrant of times past i perforniing, in this age. inch stupeadoiu 
deeds and feals of arms as are sufficient to obscure the briaLtcst ever 
achieved b^ them. Trusty and loyal squire, observe the darLoess of 
this niyht, its strange silence, the confused sound of these trees, the 
fearful noise uf that water which we came hither in aearch of, and 
which, one woold think, precipitates itself headlong from the hi^U 
mountains of the moon ; that incessant striking and clashing which 
wound our ears : all these together, and even each separately, are 
■ufBcient to infuse terror, fear, and amaicment info the breast of Mars 
himself ; how much more into that of one unaccustomed to such 
adventures I Yet all I have described serves but to rouse and awaken 
my courage, and my heart already bounds within my breast with eager 
desire to eneoonter this adventure, however difficult it may appear. 
ThereftH^ tigiiten Bozinante'a girth, and God be with tbee I Stay foe 
me here three days, and no more ; if 1 return not in that time, thou 
mavest go back to our village ; and Ihenr^. to oblige me, repair to 
Tohoso, and inform my incomparable lady Dulcinea that her enthralled 
knight died in attempting things that might hare made him worthy to 
be stvled hers." 

Wlien Sancho heard these words of biB master, he dissolved into 
tears, and said, " Sir, I cannot think why your worship should encounter 
this fearful adventure. It is now night, and nobody sees us. We 
may easily tnm aside, and ect out of danger, though we should not 
drink these three days ; and, being unseen, we cannot be taxed with 
cowardice. Besides, I have heard the curate of our village, whom 
;oar worship knows very well, say in the pulpit that ' he who secketh 
danger perianeth therein : ' so that it is not good to tempt God by 
undertating so eitrava^nt an exploit, whence there is no escaping 
but by a raxrach;. Let it suffice that Heaven saved yon from being 
tossed in a blanket, as I was, and brought you off victorious, safe, and 
Boand, from among so many enemies as accompanied the dead man. 
And il all this be not sudicient to soften your stony heart, let this 
assurance move you, that, scarcely sliall yonr worship be departed 
hence, when I, for very fear, sliall give up my soul to whosoever shall 
be pleased to take it. I left my country, and forsook my wife and 
children, to follow and serve your worship, believing I should be the 
better and not the worse for it ; but, as covetousncss burst the bag, 
so hath it rent my hopes ; for when they were most alive, and I n as 
hist eipecting to obtain that cursed and unlucky island, which you 
Save so often promised me, I find myself, in lieu thereof, ready to 
be abandoned by your worship in a place remote from everything 
human. For heaven's sake, dear sir, do not be so cruel to me : and 
if your worship will not wholly rive up this enterprise, at least defer 
it till daybreak, which, bv what! learned when a sheulierd, cannot be 
above three hours ; for tbe muzzle of the north-bear * is at the top of 

S6 SON Qütxora. 

tliehead,and malíes midnight in the line of the left arm." "How 
CBDst tbou, Saoclio," said l)ou Ouixote, " see where this line is made, 
or where this muizle or top of trie heaa may be, since the night is so 
dark, that not a star api>ears in the whole sfcjF" "True," said 
Sancho ; " but fear lias maiw e,ves, and sees thii^cs beneath t!ic eitrth, 
much more above the ski ; besides, it is reasonable to suppose that it 
does not want much of daybreak. " Want wbat it may, answered 
Don Quixote, " it shall never be said of me, now nor at any time, that 
tears or entreaties could dissuade me from performing the duty of a 
knight : therefore I pra; thee, Sancho, be silent; for God, who has 
inspired me with courage to attempt this unparalleled and fearful 
adventure, will not fail Ui watch over my safety, and comfort thee in 
ihy sadness. All thou hsat to doia to girt Bozmante well, and remain 
here ; for I will quickly return alive or dead." 

Sancho, now seeing nia master's final resolution, and how Ultle his 
tears, prayers, and counsel availed, determined to have recourse to 
strataEem, and compel him, if possible, to wait until d^ ; therefore, 
while he was tightcniiw the horse's girths, softly and unnerceived 
with his halter lie tied Rozinante's hinder feet together, so that when 
I)oQ Quisote would fain have departed, the horse could move only by 
jumps. Sancho, perceiving the success of his contrivance, said; "Ah. 
air ! behold bow Heaven, moved by my tears and prayers, nas ordained 
that Roúnante should be unable to stir; and if fou will obstinately 
persist to spur him, you will but provoke fortune, and, as they say. 
kick against the pncis.'" This made Bon Quixote quite aeaperate, and 
the more he spurred his horse, the less he could move him ; he there. 
fore thought it best to be quiet, and wait ontQ day appeared, or until 
Eozinante could proceed, never suspecting the artífice of Sancho, 
whom he thus addressed: "Since so it is, Sancho, that Eozinante 
cannot move, I consent to wait until the dawn smiles, althoiigli I weep 
in the interval." "Yonneednotweep,"an3weredSancho, ' forlwill 
entertain vou until day by telling you stories, if you liad not rather 
alight ana compose yourself to sleep a little upon the green grass, as 
kn^hts-errant are wont to do, so that you maybe less weary when the 
day and hour comes for engaging in that terrible adventure you wait 
for." "To whom dost tiou talk of alighting or sleeping P" said Don 
Quixote; " am I one of those knights who take repose in time of 
danger ? Sleep thou, who wert born to sleep, or do what thou wilt ; 
I shall act as becomes my profession." " Pray, good sir, be not angry," 
answered Sancho, " I did not mean to offend vou : and, coming close 
to him, he laid hold of the saddle before and tichind, and thus stood 
embracing his master's left thigh, without daring to stir from him a 
finger's breadth, so much was he afraid of the blows which still con- 
tinued to sound in regular succession. Don Q^iixote bade liim tell 
some story for his entertainment, as he had promised: Sancho replied 
that he would, if his dread of the noise would permit him ; " I will 
endeavour," said he, " in spite of it, to tell a story, which, if I can hit 
upon it, and it slips not through my fingers, is the best of all stories ; 
and I Iwg TOUT worsliip to be attentive, for now 1 bciiin : — 

"What Dath been, hath been; tbe good that shall befal he for ns a]], 
and evil to him that evil seeks. And pray, air, take notice that the 
beginning which the ancients gave to their tales was not just what they 
pleased, but rather some sentence of Cato Zonzorinus the Roman, w' " 

nji, ' ADd eTÜ be la him that evil seeks ; ' which fits tim nreaent por- 


a^CBO'fl BTQBZ. 87 

pose like & ring to tout finger, signiff ing that four vonbip sbodd be 

quiet, aiid not go abont aeareliing after evii, but rather that we turn 
aside into some other road ; for we are under no obligalion lo continuo 
in this, where we are overtaken by so manv tears. " Proceed with 
thj tale, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and leaic to my care the road 
we Me to follovf." "I.say, then," continued Sancho, "that in ayil. 
lage in Estramadnra, there was a shepherd — I mean a goatherd; wliich 
shepjierd, or goatherd, as mj story says, was called Lope Kuiz ; and 
this Loi* Ruiz was in lore with a shepherdess called Torralva ; which 
shepherdess called Torralf a was daughter to a rich herdsman, and this 
ricli herdsman—" " If tliis be thy manner oí telling a story, Sancho," 
said Don Ouiiote, "repeating ererything thou hast to say, ihou witt 
not have done these two days : tell it concisely, and like a mau of 
«ense or else say no more." " I tell it in the same manner that llicy 
tell all stories in my eounlry," answered Sancho ; " and I cannot tell 
it otherwise, nor ought your worship lo require me to mate new cus- 
toniB." " Tell it as thou wilt, then, said Don Quiiote ; " since it is 
the will of fate that I must hear thee, go on." 

" And so, sir " continned Sancho, aa I said befor^ this shepherd 

■■ ■'- ' '-'^ ''■■'. sheyherdcss Torral'" -'• ■""" "* ■ — 

oinful, and somewha 

; and methiiiks 1 s( 

said Don Quiiote, 

o-<..<.u ..W.I...1U, >[Ut hewho toldme tliiii ^•.•Ji, »iu iv ••» 

and true, thatlmight, when I told it to another, affirm and;. __. 

I had seen it alL And so, in process of time, the devil, who sleeps 
not, and troubles all tilings, brought it about, that the love which the 
shepherd bore to the shepherdess, turned into mortal haired: and the 
cause, according to evil tongues, was a certain quantity of little icA- 
buücB she gave him, so as lo exceed all bounds : and so much did be 
hate her thenceforward, that, to shun the sight of her, he chose to 
absent himself from that country, and go where his eves should never 
more behold her. Torralva, who fonnd herself disdained by Lope, 
then began to love hhn better than ever she had Ipied him before. 
"It is a disposition natural in women," said Don Qiiiiote, "to slight 
those who love them, and love those who bate them: — go on, 

" It fell out," proceeded Sancho, "that the shepherd put his design 
into execution ; and, collecting together his goats, went over the 
plains of Estremadura, in order to pass over the Kingdom of Portugal. 
IFpon which, Torralva went after him, and followed him at a distance, 
onfootand hare-legged, with a pilgrim's staff in her hand, and a wallet 
about her neck( in which she carried, as is reported, a pieceof looking 
ehiss, the remains of a comb, and a kind of small gallipot of patnt for 
the face. But whatever she carried (for I shall not now set myself to 
vonch what it was), I only tell you that, as they say, the shepherd 
came with his flock to p^ús the river Gimdiana, which at that time 
was swollen, and had almost overflowed its banks ; and on the side he 
came to there was neither boat nor anybody to ferry him or his flock 
over to the other side, which grieved him mightily ; for he saw that 
Torralva was at bis heels, and would give him much disturbance by 
her entreaties and tears, ne therefore looked about him nntil he 
espi^ a fisherman with a boat near him, but so smidi that it could 
hold only one person and one goat ; however, he spoke to him, and 


tgreed to csir; orer binuelf and his three Lundred goals. The ñsher- 
man got into the boat, and carried over a goat; he tetunicd, and 
carnea over another; he came bade again, and a^ain carried over 
another. Ftay. sir, keep an account of the goats that the fisiierman 
is carrymK over ; for if you lose connt of a single goat, the story ends, 
and it will be impossible to tell a word more of it. I go on then ana 
sa; that Ijje laudins-ptace on the opposite side was covered with mad, 
and slipper}', and the fisbernian was a great while coining and going. 
However, he returned for another goat, and another, and another." 
"Suppose them all carried over," said Don Quixote, "and do not be 
going and coming in this manner; or thou vfilt not have finished 
carrjing Ihem over in a twelvemonth." "How many have passed 
already ? " said Sancho. " How tbe devil slionld I know ? " answered 
Boa Quixote. " See there now ! did I not tell tbee to keep an eiact 
account ? Before Heaven, there is an end of the story ; I can go no 
farther." "How can this bef" answered Don Quixote. "Is it so 
essential to the story to know the eiact number oí goata that 
passed OTer, that, if one error be made, the story can proceed on 
larlher?" "No, sir, by no means," answered Sancho; for when I 
desned yoor worship to tell me how miui][ gouts bad passed, uid you 
answered you did not know, at that very instant all that I had to say 
fled out of my memory ; and in faith it was very edifying and satisfac- 
tory." "So, tlien," said Don Quixote, "the stoir ia at an end?" 
"As sure as my mother is," quoth Sancho. " Verilv" answered 
njon puixote. " thou hnst told one of the rarest tides, fonlea, or liisto- 
ries, imaginable ; and thy mode of rclatiug and concluding it is audi 
as never was, nor ever wjU be, equalled ; although I expected no less 
from thy good sense : however, I do not wonder at ilj for tliia inccs- 
sant din may have disturbed thy understanding." " All that may be," 
answered Sancho, " but, as to my story, I know there's no more to be 
told; for it endajustwhcretheerrorbegiosin the account of carrying 
over the goat»."* " Let it end where it wül. in God's name," said 
Don Quixote, " and let us see whether Itozinante can stir himself." 
Add he clapped spurs to him, and aaain the animal jumped, and then 
atood stock still : so effectually was he fettered. 

In this position they passed the night; and when Sancho perceived 
the dawn of jnomin^, with much csiitlon he unbound Rozinante, who, 
on being set at hberlj, though nalurally not over mettlesome, seemed 
to feel himself alive, and beiian to paw the ground ; but as for curvet- 
ting (beciring his pardon) he knew nothing about it. Don Quixote, 
pereeivit^ihat Itozinante beican to be active, look it for a good omen, 
and a sizuol that he should forthwith attempt the trcuicnaoiis adven- 
ture. The davm now making the surrounding objects visible, Dou 
Quiiotc perceived he was beneath sonie tall cheslnut.treea, which 
afforded a gloomy shade; but the cause of ihat strikiiii;, which vet 
continued, he was miable to discover ; therefore, without furliier 
delay, he made Kozinante feel the spur, and again taking leave of 
Sancho, connnanded him to wait there three days at the farlhcat, aa 
he had said before, and that if he returned not by thut time, he might 

* This tale was not the inventí^n <i( Corviinl«9 ; for, thoogh altsred nnd 
im^.roved by him, the idea u tiikeix truin the "Cenlo Xovello Anliilie," 
which are igiven M Lha end ui the "Cuuto NovoUo Scelt»," published at 
VeniiM> ia the year lá71. 


«mdude that it «u God's will that he should end liis davs in that 

Brilous advenlure. He &eaÍD abo repcairtt the embassy and nie^sase 
was to carry to bis lady Dulcini-a ) and as to wliat concerned Ihe 
leward of his service, be told biin that ho need be under no Cduecro, 
Buice, before his departure from bis villajte, he had made his will, 
wherein he «oold fiod himself satisfied rcf^ditiE- bis wa^s, b pro- 
portion to the time he had served ; but, if God should bnug him ofT 
safe and sound Srmo the impending danger, he might reckon himself 
infallibl/ soGore of the promised island. Sancho wept afresh at bear- 
ing aicain the moving eipressioiis of his good master, and resolved not 
to leave him to the last moment and termination of this alTuir. The 
author of this history concludes, from the tears and this honourable 
resolution of Sancho Panza, tbat be mast have been well biira, aud at 
least an old Castilian. His master was somewhat moved bf it ; not 
that he betrayed any weakness ; on the contrary, dissembling ta well 
u he eould, he advanced towards the place whence the noise of the 
water and of the strokes seemed to proceed. Sancho followed bim on 
foot, leading bii aas— thai constant companion of bis fortunes, good 
or bad. And having proceeded some distance among those shady 
chestout-treea, they came to a tittle green meadow, bounded by some 
steep rooks, down which a mighty torrent precipitated itEelf. At the 
foot of these rocks were several wretched huts, that seeuied more like 
ruins than habitable dwellings ; and it was from them, they now 
discovered, that the fearful din proceeded. Rozinante was startled at 
the noise, but Don Quiiole, after quieting him, went slowly on 
towards tne buta, recommending himself devoutly to his ladv, aud 
beseeching her to favour him in so terrific an enterprise -. and by the 
way he also besought God not to fon:et him. Sancho kept dose to 
his side, stretching out his neck, and looking between Kounante's 
legs, to see if be could discover the cause of bis terrors. In this 
manner they advanced about a hundred yards farther, when, on 
doubling a point, the true and undoubted cause of that horrible uiose 
which lukd held them all ni.ebt in such suspense, appeared pbtn and 
expoeed to view. It was ¿kind reader, take it not m dudgeon ! ) sis 
fuiline-hammers, whose ^tcmutc strokes produced lliat liidcous 
sound! Bon Quixote, on beholding them, was struck dumb, aud was 
in the ntmost confusion. Sancho looked at him. and saw be hung 
down his head nt>on his breast, with manifest indications of heing 
abashed. Don Quixote looked also at Sancho, and seeing his cliecks 
swollen, and bis mouth full of lau^cbtcr, betraying evident signs of 
being ready to eiplodc, notwithstanding his veiutioD, he could not 
forb^r !au!;hiug himself attlie si|;bt of nis squire, who, thusencou- 
nged by bis master, broke forih in so violent a manner tliat be was 
foreedto apply both hands to bis aides, to secure himself from burst- 
ing. Four times he ceased, and four times tlie tit returned, with the 
same impetuosity as at first. Upon which, Don Quixote now wi.slied 
him at the devil, especially when be heard him say, ironically : " Thou 
must know, friend Sancho, tbat .1 was bom, by the will of Heaven, in 
this onr age of iron, to revive in it the golden, or that of gold. I am 
he for whom are reserved dangers, great exploits, and valorous 
■chievements ! " And so he went on, repeating many of t'"' ^"PTP: 
aions which Don Quixoli used apon first hearing those dreaflfnl 
Bonnds. Don Quixote, perceiving that Sancho madeaiestot him. 
via 90 enraged that he lifted up his lance, and disdutrged two suoli 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

90 BOK vracm. 

blows on him that, had he received Ihem od his head, instead of his 

shoulders, the knii^ht would have acquitted himself of the pafment of 
his wages, unless it were to his heirs. Sancho, finding he paid so 
dcarlf for his jokes, and fearing ksl his master should proceed far- 
ther, with much humility said : " Prav, sir, be pacified ; as heaven is 
my nope. I did hut jest." "ThouKO thou mayest jest. I do not," 
answered Don Quísote. " Come hilher, merry sir, what thinkest 
thoa P Suppose tlieso mill-hammers had really been some perilous 
adventurajQarelnot given proof of the courage requisite to under- 
take and achieve it? Am I obliged, beii^ a koic^bt as Jam, to distin- 
guish sounds, and know which are, or are not, those of a fuilins-tnill, 
more espeoiaUy if (which isindced the truth), I had never seen any full- 
ing-mills in my life, as thou bast— a pitiful rustic as thou art, whoweit 
born and bred amongst them ; bat let these six fullins-hammers be 
transformed into s'a giants, and let them beard me one by one or 
altogether, and if 1 do not set them all on their heads^ then make 
what jest thou will of me." "It is enough, good air," replied 
Sancho J "I confess I have been a little too jocose: bul pray tell me. 
now tliat there is peace between us, as God shall bring you out of all 
the adventures tfaat shall happen to ];oa safe and sound, as he baa 
brought you out of this, was it not a thing t« be laughed at, and worth 
teUing, what a fearful taking we were in last night — I mean, that I 
was in— for I know your worship is a stranfrer to fear?" " 1 do not 
deny," answered Don Quiiotc, that what has befallen ns may be 
risible, bnt it is not proper to be repeated ; for all persons have not 
the sense to see things in the right point of view." But," answered 
Sancho, " your worship knew how to point your lance aright when 

ga pointed it at my bead, and hit me on the shoulders; tliankshe to 
:aven and to my own agility in slipping aside. But let that pass : 
it will out in the bucking : for I have heard say, ' he loves tliee well 
who makes thee weep :' and, be.<údes, your people of condition, when 
they have given a servant a hard word, presently give him some old 
hose, though what is usually given after a beating I cannot tell, unless 
it be that your kDights-errant, after bastinadoes, bestow islands, or 
kingdoms on ieffajiraai." "The die may so run," quoth Don Quixote, 
" that all thou hast said may come to pass : excuse what is done, 
since thou art considerate ; for know that first impulses arc not under 
man's control; and, that thou mayest abstain from talking too much 
with me henceforth, I apprise thee of one thing, that in ail the books 
of chivaby I ever rt-ad, numerous as they are, I recollect no eiample of 
a squire who conversed so much with his master as thou dost with thine. 
And really, 1 account it a great fault both in tbee and in myaclf : in 
thee, because thou payest me so Uttie respect : iu me, that I do not 
make myself respected more. TberewasGandiJin.sqtiiretoAmadisde 
Gaul, earl of the firm Island; of whom we read that be always spoke 
to his master cap in hand, his bead inclined and body bent, in the 
Turkish fashion. What shall we say of Gasahel, squire to Dou Galaor, 
who was so silent that, to illustrate the excellence of his marvellous 
tscitamit^, his name is mentioned but once in all that great and 
faithful history P ¥mta what I have said, thou mayest infer, Sancho, 
that there ought to be a differenee between master and man, between 
lord and lacquey, and between knight and squire ; so tbut, from this 
day forward, we must be treated with more respect ; for, howsoever 
thou nutyeat excite my anger, 'it «ill go ill with üíe pitcher.' The 


ft*oiirs and lieneflls I promised Ihee will come in dne time ; and if 
they do not comp, ilm wnpres, »t least, thon wilt not lose." " Your 
worship says very well," qiintli Sancho ■ " but I would fain know (if 
perchuice the time of the favonn should not come, and it should be 
necessary to have recourae to the article of the wajres) how much 
might tlie stmjre of a knight-errant cet in tlioec times F and whether 
they aftreed Dj the monlh or by the day, like labourers P " "I do not 
believe," answered Don Quiiote, "that those squires were retained at 
stated wa^^es, but they relied on courtesy ¡ and if I have appointed 
tbee any. m the will I left sealed at home, it was incase of accidents; 
for I know not vet how chivalry mav succeed in these ealsmilous 
times, and I would not have my aonl suffer in the other world for trifles ; 
for I would have thee know, Sancho, that there is no Blate more 
perilous than that of adventurers. "It is so, in truth," said 
Sancho, " since the noise of the hammers of a fullinn-mill were snffi- 
cient to disturb and discompose the heart of so valorous a knight as 
jour worship. But yon may depend upon it that henceforward I 
shall not open my lips to make merry with yonr worship's coneems. 
bnt shall honour yoQ as my master and natural lord." "By so doing, 
replied Don Quixote, " thy days shall be long in the land ; for next to 
our pannU we are bound to respect our masten," 


About this time it began to rain a little, and Sancho proposed enter- 
ing the fulling-mill ; but Don Quixote bad conceived sacn an abhor< 
lence of them for the late jest, that he would by no means go in : 
taming, therefore, to the right hand, they struck into another road, 
like tl^ Ihey had travelled tnrongh the day before. Soon after, Don 
Ooiiolfi discovered a man on horseback, who bad on hia head some- 
tiung which glittered as if it had been of gold ; and scarcely had be 
seen it when, turning to Sancho, he said, ' I am of opinion, Bancho, 
there is no proverb but what is true, because thev arc all sentences 
drawn from experience itself, the mother of all the sciences ¡ espe- 
cially that which sava, ' Where one door ¡a shnt another is opened.' 
I say this becanse, it forttuie last night shut the door against what 
we sought, decdviag ns with the mlling-miUs, it now opens wide 
another, for a better and more certain adventure ; in which, if 1 am 
deceived, the bult will be mine, without imputing it to my ignorance 
of fulling-mills, or to the darkness of night. This I say because, if I 
mistake not, there comes one towards ns who carries on his head 
Mambrino'a helmet, concerning which thou mayst remember I snore 
the oath." "Take care, sir, what yon say, and more what yon do," 
(aid Sancho ; " for I would not wish for other fulling-mills, to fimah 
the milling and mashing onr senses." "The devil take theef" replied 
Don Quixote; "what has a helmet to do with fulling-mills?" I 
know not," answered Sancho i " bnt in faith, if 1 might talk m mocb 

n, ■X.OOg\C 

98 sov qcixoTB. 

I used to do, periiaps I could give saoh re490ii3 that your wonhtp 
would see vou are mistaken íq what you aa; ." " How can I be mis- 
taken in wliat I sar, scnipuloua traitor ? " said Don Quixote. " TeU 
toe, seest thou not jod knisht comioj; towards iia on a dapple-gre; 
steed, with a helmet of gntd on his headf" "What 1 see and pet- 
oeive," answered Sancho, " ia onlj a man on a strey asa hke mine, 
with Bomelhinf on his head that ghtten." " \Vhy, that is ^lam- 
briuo's heliuet, said Don Quixote ; " retire, and leave me alone to 
deal with him, and thoii sliut see how, in order to save time, 1 sliall 
conclude this adventure without speaking a word, and the helmet I 
have so much desired remain my own." " I shall Ute care lo get 
out of the wa;," replied Sancho ; " but Heaven Rrant, I say amu, it 
may not prove anotiier fulling-mill adventure." I have already told 
tikee, Sancho, not to mention those fulliog-miUs, nor even think of 
them," SMd Don Quixote : " if thou dost— I say no mora, but I vow 
to mill thy soul for tbec !" Sancbo held his peace, fearmg lest his 
master sboold perform his vow, which had struck him all of a 

Now the truth of the matter, concerning tiie hebnet, the steed, and 
the knight which Don Quiiote saw, was this. There were two 
villages m that nei|:;fabonrhood, one of them so small (hat it bad neither 
shop nor barber, but the other ailjoining to it had both ; therefore the 
barber of the hireer served also the less, wherein one customer now 
wanted to be let Mood, and another to be shaved ; to 7>erfonn which, 
the barber was now on his way, carrying with lum his brass basin; 
aud it so happened that while upon the road it began to rain, and to 
save his hat, which was a new one, he chpped the Win on his head, 
which being ktcly scoured was seen glittennfir at the distance of half 
a league ; and he rode on a grey ass, as Sancho had allirmed. Thus 
Dud Quixote took tlie barber for a knight, his ass for a dupple ;n^y 
steed, and his basin for a golden helmet ; for whatever he saw was 
quickly adapted to his knightly extravagances; and when the pftof 
knight drew near, without staying to reason llie case with him. be 
advanced at Rodnante's best speed, and couched his lance, intending 
lo run him through and thnDugb: but, when close upon him. without 
checking the fury of his career, he cried out, " Uefpud IhyBelf, caitiff! 
or instantly surrender what is justly my due," The barber, so unex- 
peclcdlv seeing this phantom advancing upon him, had no other way 
to avoid the thrust of the hmce than to slip down from the ass : and 
no sooner had he touched the ground than, leaping up oinibler than a 
roebuck, he scampered over the plain witli such speed that the wind 
could not overtaKe him. The basin he left on the ground; with 
which Don Quixote was satisfied, observing that the pa^an bad acted 
discreetl)- and in imitation of the beaver, which, wlicn closely pur- 
sued bj the honters, tfars off with bis teeth that which it knows by 
instinct to be the object of pursuit. He ordered Sancho lo take up 
the helmet ; who. holding it in his hand, said, " itefiire Heaven, the 
basin is a special one, and is well worth a piece of ei^ht, if ¡t is 
worth a fattuing." He then (wve it to his master, who immediately 
placed it upon his head, turning it round in seareh of the vizor ; but 
not finding it, he said, " Doubtless the pagan for whom this famous 
helmet was originally forged must have had a prodigious head— ihe 
worst of it is that oue naif is wanting." When Saucho heard the 
basin oüled* hairnet, be could not forbewlwighmg i yhich,boweTCT, 
,, .A.OOgIC 

KiXBBnio't nxum. 99 

ke rnstmitlT cheeckcd on remllectinB hia msater's late aholer. "Wliat 
doe* tiou MDffh at, Sancho?" Buid Don Qiiiiote. "I am laugbiwi," 
answered he, to think what a hniie head the pAjnui had who owned 
that helmet, which is for ail the world jnat like a barber's basin." 
" Knowest than, Sancho, what I omceiTe to be the case ? This 
famotis piece, this enchanted helmet, bf some atrasare arcident mnst 
have ffdlen into the possession of one who, ignorant of iU true valao 
as a helmetj and seeinR it to be of the purest gold, hath inoonsi- 
derstely melted down the one-half for lucre's sake, and of the other 
hall made this, which, m thoa saycst, doth indeed look Uke a barber's 
basin : but to me, who know what it really is, its tninsfoniiation is of 
no importance, for I will have it so repaired in the first town where 
there a a smith, that it shall not be surpassed nor even equalled bj 
that which the god of smiths himself made and for^ for tlie god m 
battles. In the mean time I will wear it as I best can, for somethiit; 
it better than nolhins ; and it will be sufficient to defend me fi«ni 
atones." " It will so, said Sancho. " if they do not throw them with 
ahufs, as thcT did in the battle of the two armies, when thcj orossed 
jour worship s chaps, and broke the cmse of that most blessed li>|noT 
which made me Tomit up my inside." " The loss of that balsam gwra 
we no concern," said Don Quixote; " for knoweat thou, Sancho, I 
bnve the recipe by heart." "So have I, too," answered Sancho ; " hot 
if ever I make or try it wain while I bve, may I he fixed and rooted 
to this place. Besides, Ido not intend to nut myself in the way of 
lequiring it : for I mean to kecjj myself, with all mi five senses, from 
beins wounded, or from woundmg anybody. As to oeinj^ tossed again 
in a olanket, 1 say nothing ; for it :s difficult to prevent aueh mishaps j 
and if they do come, there is nothing to be done but wink, hold one's 
breath, and submit Ui go whither fortune and the blanket shall 
please." " Thon art no good Christian, Sancho," eaid Don tjniiote j 
iince thou dost not fo^iet an injury once done lliee ; but know it is 
iaherent in generous and noble mmua to disregard trifles. 'What lev 
of thine is lamed, or «hat rib or heed broken, that thoa canst doc 
forget that jest ?— for properly considered, it was a mere ¡eat and 
pastime ; otherwise, I should long ago have returned thitner, and 
done more mischief in revenging thy quarrel than the Greeks did for 
the rape of Ueien, who, bad she lived m theae times, or my Dulcinea 
in thn«e, would never have been so famous for beauty as she is ! " and 
here he heaved a sigh, and sent it to the clouds. " Let it pass, then, 
for A jest," said Sancho, " sbce it is not likely to be revenged in 
earnest : but 1 know of what kind the jests and the earnests were; 
and I know also they wili no more shp out of my memorv than off mi 
ahoulders. But, setting this aside, tdl me. sir, what shall we do witn 
this dapple-grey steed which looks so much like a grey ass, and whidk 
that caitiff whom your worship overthrew has left "behind here, to 
shift for itself ? for, by his scouring off so hastily, he docs not think 
of ever returning for him ; and, by my beard, the beast is a special 
one." "It is not my custom," said Don QuixoM, "to plunder ihose 
whom I overcome, nor is it the usage of chivalry to lake from the 
vanqnished their horses, and leave them on foot, unless the victor had 
loEt his own ia the conflict ; in such a case it is Iswfiil to take that of 
the enemy, as fairly won in battle. Therefwe, Sandio, leave this 
horse, or ass, or whatever thon wilt have it to oe ; for when we are 
gue, hia owan will retain for him." " God knows whether it were 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

best f<^ me to take him," replied Sancho, " or at least to eiduoge 

hijn for mine, which, methinlta, ¡s not so good. Verily, the laws of 
chivalry are very strict if they do even allow the swopping- of one ass 
for another ; but 1 would fain know whether 1 might exchange fumi- 
ture, if I were so inclined." " I sjn not very clear as to that point." 
answered Don Quixote ; " and. being a doubtful esse, better 
information can be had, I think thou mayest make the excliange, if 
thou art in extreme want of them." " So eitrenie," replied Saucio, 
"that I could not want them mora if they were for my own proper 
person." Thus authorized, he prooeeded to an exchange of capaii- 
sons, and made bis own beast three parts in four the better for bis 
new furniture. This done, they breakfasted on the ramains of the 
plunder ham the sumpter-mule, and drank of the water belonging to 
the fnllinz-milla, but without turning tlieir faces towards them — such 
was the abhorrance in which the; were held, because of the ^eot 

Bhad produced. Being thus refreshed úid comforted, both in 
and mind, they mounted ; and, without det«nnining upon what 
to follow, according to the custom of knigbts-errant, they went 
on as Borinante's will directed, which waa a guide to his master and 
also to Dapple, who always followed, in love and good-fellowship, 
wherever he led Che way. They soon, however, turned iuto too 
great road, which they followed at a venture, without forming any 

As they «ere titos sauntering on, Sanoho said to his master : " Sir, 
will yonr worship bo pleased to indulge me the liberty of a word or 
two: for since you imposed on me that harsh command of silence, 
sundry things have been rotting in my breast, and I have one just now 
■t my tongue's end that I would not for anytiiing should miacury." 
" Speak, then," said Don Quixote, " and be brief in thy dlsconnw : 
for what is prolix cannot be pleasing." " I say then^ sir," answered 
Sancho, " that for some days past I have been consiaerioig how little 
is gained by wandering about in quest of those adventures your 
worship is seeking through these deserts and crossways, where, 
though you should overcome and achieve the most perilous, there is 
nobody b) see or know anything of them ; so that they must remain 
in ^rpetual oblivion, to the prejudice of your worahip's intention and 
their deserts, ¿sd therefore I think it would be more advisable for 
nSj.with submission to your better judgoient, to serve some ewpecor 

,y your valour, great strength, and superior understanding : 
wuicn oemg perceived by the lord we serve, he must of course reward 
each of us according to üts merit ; nor can you there foil of mectbg 

^ _..,.. „ ._ . . , e tliey must not 

exceed the squirely Lriiits ; though, 1 aare say, if it be the custom in 
chivalry to pen the deeds of squires, mino will not be foi^ttea," 

"Thou sayest not amiss, Sancho," answered Don Qiu\ol«: "bat, 
previous to tl'i^ , it is necessary for a knight-crrant to wander about 
the world seeking adventures by way of probation; where, by his 
achievements, he may acquire such fume and renown that, when he 
i.( to the court of some great monarch, he shall be alread.v known 
is works ; and scarcely shall the boys see him enter the gates of 


indar which be aun have aohiered peKt eipteita. "nüi ü he,' Ütej 
wül Mf.' vho OTerthier the hu^ giaut Broctbnmo, of mightv forccL 
ÍB súigle oombat; he «ho <lueDctiaiited the Kreat Hameriike of 
Penis from the kmg enchantment vhicli held him confined almoit 
nine hundred years ;' and thna from mouth to mouth tbej shall go on 
bluouitig his deeds, ¿t leneth, aitraoted by the bustle made hj tba 
inhabitaotB, youn({ and old, the kin^ of that coontrj shall appear at 
the windows of lus royal palace ; and, as eoon as he espies the itni^t, 
«bom he vill recognise by bis anooar or by the deriee on his shield, 
lie will of oourae say : ' Ho, there ! Go forth, my knij;hts, all that are 
■t court, to raceiva the flower of chivalry, who is aiiprouching.' At 
which com maud theyoU shall go forth, and the kins lumself, descend- 
ing half-way down the great staircase, shall receive him with a dose 
eaibrace, salating and kissing bim ; then, taking him by the hand, he 

«Tea on the knight, and he his eyes upon hers, each appearing to tl 
othet aomethraj: rather divice than human; aod, without knowiag 
how, or which way, they remam entangled in the meitricable net M 
lore, and are in great perplexity of mind, not knowinx how to oon- 
Terse and discover their amorous anguisii to each other. He will 
then, no doubt, be conducted to some quarter of the palace richly fur- 
nished, where, having taken off his armour, they will clothe bim ia a 
ñok ftcarleC mantle ' and if he looked well ia armour he must look still 
better in ermine. Night beiM arrived, be shall sap with the kinR 
queen, and infanta; when he shall never take his eves off the prinoest 
viewing her by stealth, and she will do the same by bim, with emial 
caution ; for, as 1 said before, she is a vety discreet damsel. The 
tables beioK removed, tbere shall enter unexpectedly at the ball door 
a little ilt-favoured dwarf, followed by a beautiful matron between 

two giants, with the uroposal of a certain adventure, so contrived by 
a most ancient sage Uiai he who shall aooomplish it shall be esteemed 
the best knight in the world. The king shall inunediiitely ct 

all who are present to prove their skill, and none shall be able to 
acotnnplish it but the stranger knig-ht, to the neat advautage of his 
fame; at which the infanta will he delighted, and esteem herself 
happy in having pUced ber thoughts on so exalted an object. Forto- 
nately it happens that this king, or prince, or whatever he be, is car- 
rying on a bloodj war with anottier monarch as powerful as himself; 
and the etrao^ knight, after having been a few days at court, 
requests his nuqesty'a permission to serve him in that war. The king 
shall readily grant nis reqnest, and the knight shall most courteousLr 
kiss his royal hands for the favour dune bim. On that night he sludL 
take leave of his lady the infunta at the iron rails of a garden adjoin- 
ing to her apartment, through which be has already conversed with 
her several times, by the mediation of a female confidante in whom 
the infanta greatly trusted. He sljjha, she swoons ; the danisel runs 
for cold water, and is very nneasy at the apuroai;h of the morning 
U^t, and would by no means her lady shoula be discovered, for the 
sake of her lad/s honour. The infanta at len;ith comes to iierself, 
and gives hersnowy hands to the knight througb (heroils, who kisses 
theni a thonaaiail and a thousand times over, bowing them with hia 

Uan. They concert together how to commimieBfe to e»ch other 
their good or ill fortune, and the princess entreats him to be sbjent 
as short a time as possible; which he promises with mvnj oaths; 
again he kisses her hands, and they part with bo much emoIioD that 
he is neai'ly deprived of life. Thenee he repairs to his chamber, 
throws himself on his bed^ and cannot sleep for grief at the sepfkrs- 
tion. Be rises ear!; in the momini', and goes to take leave Ol the 
ling, queen, and infanta. Having taken his leave of the two former, he 
ii told the princess is indisposed and cannot admit of a visit. The 
knight think» it is for grief at his departure ; his heart is pieroed, and 
he la verv near giving manifest indications of his passion. The dam- 
sel oonfiaante is present and observes nhat iMLises : she informs her 
bdy, who receives the sccoont w:tli tears, and tells her that her chief 
concern is that she knows not the name nor conntry of her knigbt, 
and whether be be of royal descent or aot : the damsel assures her he 
is, since so mnch cottrtesy, nohteness, and valour, aa her knight ia 
endowed with cannot exist but in a royal and exalted subject. Tie 
afEictcd princess is then comforted, anil endeavours to compose her- 
self, that she may not give her parents cause of suspicion ; and two 
ÍB,y» after she arain appears in public. The knight a now gone to 
"■" ; he fights, and vanquishes the king's enemy; tíúces many 

^bts, and vanquishes the king^s enemy; tues mai 

, reral battles; returns to court; sees his lady at t.._ 

nsaal }^ace of interview ; and it is agreed that he shall demand her 
in marriage of her fathrr, in recompense of his services. The king 
does not consent to ^ve her to him, not knowinz who he is ; notwith- 
standing which, either by carrying her off, or by some other means, 
the infanta becomes his spouse : and her father afterwards finds it to 
be a piece of the greatest good fortune, having ascertained that the 
knight is son to a valoróos King, of I know not what kingdom, not 
is it, perhap^ to be found in the map. The father dies; the infant» 
inherits ; and, in two words, the knight becomes a king. Then imme- 
diately fiiilows the rewarding oí bis squire, and all those who assisted 
in his elevation to so exalted a «tate. He marries his squire to one of 
the infanta's maids of honoor, who is doubtless the very confidante ci 
his amour, and dau^tcr to one of the chief dukes." 

" T!iis IS what I would be at, and a dear stage," quoth Sancho; 
" this 1 stick to, for every tittle of this must happen precisely to your 
worship, being called ' the knight of the sorrowiiil figure.' " " Doubt 
it not, Sancho," replied Don Quixote: "for, by those very means 
and those very steps which 1 have recounted, knights-errant do rise, 
and have risen, to oe knights and emperors. All that remains to be 
done is tu look out and find what king of the Christians or of the 
pazana is at war, and has ■ beautiful danghter — but there is time 
enoorfi to think of this ; for, aa I told thee, we must procure renown 
elBCwhera before we reiiair to court. Besides, there ia yet imotbef 
difiicalty ; for, if a king were found who is at war and has a handsome 
daughter, and I bad acquired inorediblo fiime throughout the whole 
universe, I do not see how it can be made appear that I wn of the 
lineiige of kings, or even second cnusin to an emperor : for the king 
will ñol give me hi» iiushler lowife until he is first very well assntett I am Biich, however my renowned actions might deserve it. 
Through this defect, therefore, L am afraid 1 shall lose tliat which 
my arm has richly deserved. It is true, indeed, I am a gentleman of 
an ancient family, posseased of property and a title to the lUvenp 



of ti>e fire Itondred Boeláos ; * ind periupa the mm who mite* mr 
lustoT7 may throiT inch light npon mj kindred ana Kenealogy that 1 
ma; be found the fifth or eiith in deaeent hoto a iiof^. tut thoa 
miut know, Sancbo, that there are two kinds <rf lineages m tíie world. 
Some tbere are who derive theii pediirree &om prinoesindmoiuich^ 
wbcnn time hu gnutoaU; redaeed iu£l they have ended in a pdnt, 
like a p;ramid : olhera hate had a low origin, and have risen hj 
dggreea, ontil they have become great lorda. So that the difierenee 
is. that some have been what they now are not, and others are now 
wW they were not before ; and who knows but I may be one of the 
fotmer, and that, upon eiaminatioo, my ori^ may be found to hare 
been great and glorious : with which the kiue. my future father-in- 
law, ou^t to be satisfied ; and, if he should not be satisfied, the 
infanlft ii to be so in lore with me that, is spite of her fatber, 
■he is to reoaire me for her lord and hnslwnd, eren thongfa she knew 
neto be the son of a water-oacner; and, in case she should not. tbea 
is the time to take her away bv force, aadconvmherwhithnIpteBS«¡ 
there to remain until time or death pnt a perica to the diapleasore of 
ker wents." 
"Bere," said Sancho, "oomes in ptoperi/ irtiat some nanghty 

r>ple say, ' Never stand begging for tnat which yon have the power 
take :' thoogh this other u neartr to the poipose: 'A le^i mxa a 
hedze ie better than the prayer of a bishoii? I say this, because if 
my lord the king, your worship's father-in-law, should not vonohsafe 
to yield nnto you mj iady the mfanla, there is no more to bo doo^ «■ 
^oor worship says, but to steal and carry her off. Bnt the misctdef 
IS, th^ whife peáee is making, and before yon cm enjoy the kingdom 
quietly, the poor squire may go whistle for his reirora ; mdees the 
go-between oamsel, who is to be his wife, goea off with the infant^ 
and he shares his misfortune with her, until it shall please Heaven to 
ordain otherwise ; for 1 believe hia master may immediately give her 
to hira for bis lawful spouse." ' " On that thoa mayest rely," said 
Don Quixote. " Since it is so," answered Sanoho, " we have only 
to commend ourselves to Gbd, and let things take their course. 
" Heaven grant it," answered Don Qnixoto, as 1 desire and thou 
needest, and let Mm be wretohed who thinks himself so." " Let 
hun, in God's name," said Sancho ; "for I am an old Christian, and 
that is enough to qualify me to be an earl." "Ay, and more than 
enoagfa," said Don Qariote : " and even if tbon wert not so, it woold 
be immaterial; for 1, being a king-, can easily bestow nubility on thee, 
vitbont either purcliase or service on thy put ; and, in creating thee 
an earl thoo ait a gentleman, of oonne. And, say what they w^, in 
good faith, they must style thee ' your lordship,' however, onwil. 
Engiy." Do you think," quoth Sancho, " I should not know how 
to give authority to the indignity?" " Dignity, you should sav, and 
not indignity," said hia master. " So let it be, answered ^dio 
Fsnza. " I say, I shoold do well enough with it ; for I assure yon 
I was onoe beadle erf a company, and the beadle's gown became ma 

• "Tho Spaniards of old pojd « tribuía of five hundred «aeltloB, or plooa» 
of coin, to tho Moors, nnül tliey were dalivered from thi« imposition by ths 
gíÜftntryofUMgentlénien, orpeopleofmnk: from whioh oiploit a CmtilUa 
aCtamily used to express Che nobility ojid worth of his axtnatioD bynylug 
he was 'otttaawvengeofthera^dtn.'"— ¿MOlMt 

98 son pinzón. 

so well, that I liad a presmcc fit to be irarden of the same oompany : 
irhat then viil it be uhcn 1 i.rn arrayed in s duke's robe, all sriininK 
trilh gnid and ¡learb, like a foreign count ? 1 sm of opinion folks will 
■ come a hundred lea^iiea to sf* me." " Thnn wilt make a goodly 
aiipearanee, indeed," said Don Qnisote ; " but it will be necessary to 
trim tüy beard a little oftener: lor it is bo rough and matted that, if 
thou shavest not every other day at least, what ihon art will be seen 
at the distance of a bow-shot. " Why," said iSancho, " it is but 
taking a baAer into the house, and giving him a salary ; and. if tiiere 
be occasion, I will make litra follow me like a gentleman of tne hone 
to a grandee." " How earnest Ihou to know," demanded Don Qoixote. 
" that grandeea ha»e their gentlemen of the horse to follow them f 
" I will tell you," said Suicho ; " some years ago I was near the 
«mrt for a month, and I often saw a veiy little gentleman riding 
about, who, tliey said, was a very great lord; and behind him I 
noticed a man on horseoack, tuminf aboat as he turned, so that one 
would have thought he had been his tail. I asked whythat man did 
Dot ride by the side of the other, bnt kept alwavs behind bim ? fbtj 
answered me that it was his gentleman of the horse, and that it was 
the custom for noblemen to be followed by them ; and from that day 
to this I have never forgotten it," " Thou art in the right," said 
Don Quixote, " and in the same manner ihou mayest carry abont thy 
barber ; for ul customs do not arise together, nor were they invented 
at once; and thou mayest be the first earl who carried about his 
barber after him : and indeed it is a higher trust to dress the beard 
than to saddle a horse." " Leave the business of the barber to me," 
said Sancho ; " and let it be tout worship's care to become a kioj:, 
and to make mc aa earl. " So it shall be," answered Don 
Quixote : and raising his eyes, he saw — what will be UiA in (he 
following chapter. 


- -- -- chefrtn a_ , 

n this nost grave, lofty, accurate, dcliililful, and ingenious 

history, that after the conversation which passed between the famoos 
Bon Quixote de la Mancha and Sancho Panisa his squire, given at 
the end of the foregoing chapter, Don Quiiote raised hia eyes, and 
saw approaching in the same road about a dozen men on foot, 
Ctmw like beads, by the necks, in a great iron chun, and all hand- 
ooffed. There came also with them two men on horseback, and twoon 
foot ; those on horseback were armed with firelocks, and those on foot 
with pikes ud swords. As soon aa Sancho Faiiu saw them, he said; 
" Thb is a chain of ealley-slaven, persona forced by the king to serve 
inthe gallCTs." "How! foroei do you sayP" quoth Don Qnixote: 
" is it possible the kinK- should toitx anybody ? " "I said not so," 
•DsweredSanolio; "hot that they «ere jjersona who for their tnimea 

HIS DISCOURSE wirn tbx oallst-siates. 99 

are onderaned by Uv to tlie ^ey^, vhn» tbey are forced to aerre 
tlie king." "In truth, til en," replied Don Qiiiiotc, "tbese people 
are conieyed by furoe, ana not voluntarily?" "So it is, said 
Saiicho. "Then," said his master, "here the executioa of my 
office begins, vhicli is to defeat violence, and to buocout and relieve 
the vrelched." "Consider, sir," quoth Saacbo, "that justice — which 
is the king hiniíielí — does no TÍoleuoe to BUch persons ; he only 
punishes tliBoi for their crimes," 

B¡ tbis tine the cliain of galley-slaves bad reached tbem, and Don 
Quixote in most courteous tcrnis desired the guard to be pleased to 
inform him of the cause or cau^ies for which they conducted those 

SrsoDS In that manner. One of the guards on horseback answered 
nt they were slaves belonging to his majesty, tmd on tJieir way to the 
galleys; which was all he bad to say, nor was there an.ithing more to 
loiow. " Nevertbekas," replied Don Quiiote, " 1 should be (rlad to 
be informed, by each of tbem individually, of tho cause of his mis- 
fortune." To this he added such courteous eijureasions, entreating 
the information he desired, that the other horseman said : " Thoogu 
«e have here the record and certilicate of each of these worthies, toil 
u no time to produce and read them. Draw near, sir, and make your 
bquiry of themselves ; they may inform yon, if the; please ; and do 
doubt they will, for they are such as take a pleasure in aoting and 
lekting rogueries." W ith this leave, which Dun Quiiotewoula have 
taken, bad it not been given, he went up to them, and demanded of 
the first for what offence ke marched in such evd plight ? He 
answered tliat it was for being in lore, "For that alonep " replied 
Doa Quixote; "if people ue eeut to the galleys for being in love, I 
might Icmg since have been rowing in. them myself," "It was not 
nieh love as your worship imagines," said the gallev-slave. " Mine 
WMa strong aifection for a basket of One linen, whii^ I embraced so 
closely, that, if justice had not taken it from me by force, I should not 
have parted with it bv my own goodwill even to this present dsy. I 
was taken in the fact, so there was no opportunity lor the torture j 
the piooess was ^oii; they accommodated my shoulders with a 
hundred lashes, and as a further kindness, have sent me for three 
yean to the Gurapas, and there is an end of it." " What are tha 
Gorapas ? " quoth Don Quixote. " The Gurapas are galleys," 
answered the convict, who wss a young man about twenty-four years 
of age, bom, as he said, at Piedrahita. Don Quixote pat the same 
question to the second, who returned no snswer, he was so melancholy 
aoddqected; hot the first answered for bkn, and said: "This gentle- 
man goes for being a canary-bird — 1 mean, for being a m 
ET." "B-ovec?" replied Don Quixote ; "are men 
ys for being musicians and singers F" " Yes sir," 
; " for there is nothing wone than to sing in an 

«aid Don Quixote, "I have heard sav, ' Who sings — „ , 

rdief.'" This IS the very reverse, said the skve; "for here, he 
who sings once, weepsali bis life after," "Ido not understand that," 
said Don Quixote, une of the guards said to him : " Signor cavalier, 
to sing in sn agony means, in thecanloftheseroguea, to confess npon 
the rack. This offender was put to the torture, and oonfessed his 
crime, which was that of being sQuatrero, that is, a stealer of cattle; 
and because he confessed, he is sentenced for six years to the galleys, 
besides two hundred Ushes he has already received on the ahonUm. 

Uked tl 

100 SOX QUEXora. 

He is ftlTSTB penave and s*d, beoauH all the other lo^es «bnM, 
yibif, flont, and despise him for cobfessiiiK, and not haviug- had the 
oonrnge to say No; for, saj thej, No doe» not contain more letters 
ibtn Ave • and think it tocky, when it so tiappena that a man's life 
or death aepeods upon hu own ton^e, and not upon proofs ud 
vitneeses ; and, for mTpart, I think thej are in the right." " And 
BO I think," Buswered iW Quixote : who, passing on to the thitd, 
inteiTogatcd him as he had done the others. He answered vei7 
readily, and with mueh indifference, " 1 am also poing to their iadt- 
shipa the Gunipas for Ave years, merely for wwit of ten dncats." I 
will give twenty, with all my heart," said Don Quiiote, "to redeem 
jrou &om this mieeiy." " That." said the connet, " is like baring 
money at sea, where, thoarh dyinp with hunger, nothing can be 
boagiht with it. I say this, because if I had been possessed in time of 
those twenty ducats yon now offer me, I wonid have so Rreased ths 
clerk's pen and sharpened my advocate's wit, that I woold haré been 
this da; npon the market-plaoe of Zocodorer, in Toledo - and sot 
upon ^B road, ooupled and dragged like a honiid : bat Qod is great i 
patience and— that is enough." 

Don Quiiote passed on to the fonrth, who was a man of venetBble 
~ pecrt, with a white beard reaching below bis breast; who, being 

.ed the cause of his coming, began to weep, and answered not 
_ .cord; but the fifth lent him a toncpie, and said: "This honest 
rmtteman goes for four years to the galleys, after having appeared in 
Uke usual prooession, pompously apparelled and mouDtcd.''* " That 
18, I suppose," said Sancho, 'put to publio shameP" "Bight," 
replied tiiB slave; "and the offence for which he suffered this punisti- 
ment was his having been a broker of the ear, yea, and even of the 
wtu>le body. In fact^ I mean to s^ that this gentleman goes for 
pimping, úid eiercisuig the trade of a conjuror." " Had it been 
m^ely ior pimping," said Don Qmiot«, " he had deserved not to row, 
but to be eommander of the galleys ; for the office of pimp is no light 
oonoem, but an avocation requiring discretion, and very necessary in 
k well-regulated con moo wealth. None but sucfa as are nell-bam 
ought to exercise it ; in truth, it should have its inspectors and comp- 
tiollen, as lliisre are of other offices, limited to a certain appointed 
number, like exchange-brokers; by which means many evils would 
be prevented, which now happen because this office is performed only 
by foolish and ignorant persons ; such as silly waiting-M-omen, page^ 
and buffoons, without age or experience, who, in the greatest exigency, 
and when there is ooosaion for tlie utmost address, suffer tlic morsel 
to freeze between the fingers and the mouth, and scarce know which 
is their right hand. I could go on, and assign the reasons why it 
would be expedient to make a proper choice in ñlling an office of such 
importance to the state ; but this is not the place for it. 1 may, ons 
day or olber, lay this matter before those who can provide a remedy. 
At present I only say that the concern I felt at seeing those prrey 
hwrs and that venerable countenance in so much distress for pimping, 
a eitíjiely removed by his additional character of a wizard ; though I 

lucli nia]o&c(iir« as in England wore fbnnerly set in tbe pillory, in 
I were carried about in a particular habit, maunted on an uaa, nnth 
f*c« 1« the tail ; the criar going before luid ptvolaimiag tboir 


«ell know there are no soroeriea in the worid vfaich oan affect and 
force tlie vill, as aome foolish people imagine; for our will is Area. 
and 90 herb nor charm ciui compel tt-, thcmgh some siU; women and 
entfty knares are wont, bf certain miitorea and poisona, to torn tbo 
brain, under tbe jiretenoe that they have power to exdlc love; bii^ 
M I said before, it ia imposaible to foroe the will." "Very tme," 
said tbe old man ¡ " aod, mdecd, air, as to bcinE a «iaatd I am not 
roilty ; as for bemg a pimp. I cannot deny it : tmt I never thonght 
tuire was any hann in it, for all my intention was that the vtoid 
should divert themaeives, and live in peace and qoiet wíthont quarrels 
tt troubles. But, alas I tlieae good motives could not aave me from 
going whence I have no hope of returning, burdened as I am with 
years, and so troubled with an affliction which leaves me not a 
Btoment's repose." Here he began to weep, aa before - and Sanoho 
was BO moved with compassion, that he drew bom bin bosom a real, 
and gave it to him in ohúity. 

Don Quizoto went on, and demanded of anotber what bis offence 
was, who answered, not with less, but mnch more, alacritv than the 
former: "I am going for making a little too free with two snecoasins- 
eennan of mine, and with two other oonsiua.Kerman not mine. In 
short, I carried the jrst ao far with them all, that the result of it waa 
Ú» increaaiDg of kindred so jntricateiy thst no casniat can make it 
out. The whole wm proved upon me, and I had neither friends nor 
Money : my windpipe was in the utmost danger ; 1 was sentenced to 
the galleys for six years. I aubmit — it is the punishment of my fault. 
lasi^ang; life may iaat, and time brings everything about, If your 
worAip has anythins about yon to relieve us poor wretches, God will 
repay yon in heaven, and we will make it the bnsineas of our prayera 
tobeaeech Him that your worsfaip's life andhe^dth maybe as long and 
proeperona aa your goodly presence deserves." This convict was in 
tlie htüñt of a stndnit ; anil one of the guards said he was a great 
weaker and a very pretty sobcdar. 

Behind sU these came a man about thirtv years of a«e. of a goodly 
aspect, only that his eyes looked at each other. lie was bonnd some- 
yrhtíl düfereatly from the rest, for he had a chain to his le;r, so Ion; 
that it was fastened round his middle, and two coUars about his neck, 
one of which was fastened to the chain, and the other, called a keep- 
friend. IT friend'a-foot, had two straight irons which cftme down from 
it to his waist, at the ends of whidiwere fixed two manacles, wlieretn 
bis hands were secured with a hu^re padlock ; insomuch that he oonld 
neithei hft bis hands to bis month, nor bend dovm bis head to hia 
hands. Don Quiiote asked why this man was fettered so much more 
than the rest. Tbe guM^ answered, because he alone had committtd 
more criinea than all the rest tof^ther ; and that he was ao bold and 
düperate a viibin thai, althougb shackled in that manner, tbey were 
not aepnre of him, but were still afraid be would make lils escape. 
"What kind of viilanies has he committed." said Don Quixote, "that 
have deserved no greater punishment than being sent to the galleys?" 
" He goes for ten years, said the guard, " which is a kind of civil 
death. You need only to be told that this honest gentleman is the 
famoos Oines de Paasamonte, aiia» GinesQlo de Purapilht," " Fair 
and softly, sij^or commissary," interrupted the slave: "let us not 
now be spinning out names and surnames. Giues ia my name, and 
not Ginesilloi and Pasaamonte ia the name of my family, and not 
, , . .A.OOgIC 


Psnipilla, as jon any. Let every one turn himself mund, ami look at 
honip. and he will find enuusii lo do." "Speak with less inaoleiiep. 
wr tliicf-above-nicasiire," replied the coramissary, " unless you would 
oblige me to silence you to your sorrow." " You may see," Hiiswerad 
the slave, " that msn eoeOi as God pleaseth i but aomebody mar 
learn one day whctlicr my name is Gmesillo de Parapilla, or no. 
"Are jou not so calli~d, lyinft rascal?" said the guard. "Yes," 
answered Ginea; "but I will make them eease calling me so, or I will 
flea (hem where I care not at present to say. Siftnor cavalier," con- 
tinued he, " if you liave anything to give us, let as haye it now, and 
Heaven he with yon. for you tire ns with inquiring so much after 
other men's Uves. If you would know mine, I am Gines de Passa- 
monte, whose life is written by these veryfinsers." " He says Ime," 
■aid the commissary; "for he him s«lf has written his own history as 
well as heart coiita wish, and has left the book in prison pawned (or 
two hundred rwib." "At, and I intend to redeem it," said Gines, 
"if it lay for two hnndrea ducats." "What! is it so goodF" said 
Don Quixote. " So good," answered Gines, " that woe be to Lazarillo 
de Tonnes, and to all that have written or shall write in tliat way. 
What I can aSrm is that it relates truths, and truths so ingenious and 
entertainiiiii that no fictions can eiínú them." " What is the title of 
your book?" demanded UonOukote. "The Life of Gines de Passa- 
Bonte," replied Gines himself. "And is it finished?" quoth Don 
Quixote, " How cnn it be finished P" answered he, " since my life ia 
not yet finished? What is written relates everytlii^ from my cradle 
to the moment of being sent this last time to the galleys." " Then 
you have been there before ?" said Don Quixote. " Fonr years, the 
other time," replied Gines, "to serve God and the king; and I know 
already Uie relish of the biscuit and lash ; nor does it grieve me mach 
to eo to them a^ain, since I shall there have an opportunity, of 
flnisliing my book : for I have a great many thin^ to say. and in the 
galleys of Spain (liere is leisure enongb ; thoufcb 1 shaU not want 
much for what I have to writ<\ because 1 have it by heart." " You 
eeem to be an ingenious fellow," said Don Quixote. "And an 
nnforlunatc one," answered Gines ; " but misfortunes «Iwa™ per- 
secute genius." " Persecute vQlan/," said the commissary. I havo 
Jready desired you, Signor Commissary," answered Pasaamonle, "lo 
go íiút and softly ; for yoiit superiors aid not give yon that staff to 
misuse us poor wretches here, tut to conduct us whither his Majesty 

commands. Now by the life of 1 say no more ; but the spots 

which were contracted in the inn may perhaps one day come out in 
the bucking ; and let every one hold his tongue, live well, and spe«k 
heller. Now let us march on, for we have had mnugh of this." 

Tlie eominissarv lifted up his staff to strike Pa-'samonte, in return 
for his threats; but Don Quixote interposed, and desired that he 
would not ill-treat him, since it was but fair that lie who had his 
hands so lied up should have his tongue a little at liliortv. Then 
turning about to the whole string, he said: "From all you We told 
Die, dejkrest brethren ! I clearly gather that, although it be only the 
pnnishinent of your Crimea, you do not muen relish what you are to 
suffer, and that yon go lo it with ill-will, and mnch against your incli- 


canse of jour oot meeting with that justice to which tod have aright. 
Now this being the case, as I am stron;;)]; ijersuadcd it is, my mind 
promptiiandevencoiiipeuiDe to manifest in vou the purpose for vhich 
Heaven cast me into the world, and ordiuned me lo piofrss the order 
of ohJTalrj, whicli I do profesa, and ¿be vow I thereby made to succour 
the needy, and those oppressed by the powerful. Conscious, however, 
that it is ¡he part of pnidcnct! not to do by force that whicn mav be 
done by fair means, 1 will eutreat these gentlemen, your guard and the 
CDQunissary, that they wili be pleased to luoje and let you go in peace, 
since there are people enough to iccve tlie king froui letter motives i 
foe it seems to me a hard ease lo make slaves of tliose whom God ana 
nature made free. Besides, Kcntlemun suards," added Don Quixote, 
" these poor men liavc committed no oSenoo gainst yoa ; let every 
one answer for his sins in the other world : there is a God in heaven 
who fails not to chastise the wicked, and to reward Ibe good ; neitlier 
dotbit become honourable men to be the executJouers of others, wjien 
theY have no interest m the matter. I request Ibis of you in a cabu. 
and gentle maimer, that I may have cause to thank vou for your com- 

C" ince ; hut, if you do it not williogb-, this lance ana this aword, with 
vigour of jaj arm, shall compel you to it." " Thia is pleasant 
fooling," answered the cOinmissary. An admirable conceit he has 
hit upon at last 1 Ue would iiave us let the king's prisoners go— aa 
if we had authority to set them free, or he to command ua to do it ! 
Go on your way, signor, and adjust the basin on your noddle, and do 
not go feeling about for three legs to a cat." " You arc a cat, and a 
Tot, and a rascal to boot ! " answered Don Quixote : and thereupon, 
with a word and a blow, he attacked him so suddenly, that, before be 
oodd stand upon hia defence, he threw him to tlie grouniL mnch 
wounded with a thrust of the lance; and it happened, luckily for Don 
&ii,tote, that this was one of the two who earned iircloeka. The rest 
of the guards were astonished and confounded at the unexpected 
encounter; but, recovering themselves, he on horseback drew his 
sword, and those on foot took Iheir javelins, and advanced upon Don 
Quiiotc, who waited for them with much calmnesa ; and doubtless it 
&¿ gone ill wilh him if the gidlej .slaves had not seiied tlie oppurtu- 
nitj; now offered to them of recovering their liberty, by breakmg the 
chain hj which they were linked together. Tlie confusion was such 
that the guarda, now endeavouring to prevent the slaves from gettidg 
loose, wid now engaging with Don Quisote, did nothingto any pur- 
pose, Sancho, for nia part, assisted in releasing GineadePassamonlc, 
who waa the first that leaped free and unfetterea upon the plain ; and, 
attacking the fallen commissary, he took away bis sword and his gun, 
which, by levelling first at one and then at another, witliout disdiarg- 
ing it, he cleared the field of all the guard, who fied no less from 
Passomonte's gun tlian from the shower of stones which the slaves, 
now at liberty, poured upon them. 

Sancho was much grieved at what had happened, from an apprehen- 
sion that the fugitives would give notice of the fact to the holy bro- 
therhood, who, uiion ling of bell, would sallv out in quest of the 
delinquents. These fears he communicated to nis master, and begged 
of him to be gone immediately, and take slieltec aiiioni the trees and 
Tocka of the neiehbonring mountain. " It is well," said Don Quiiote ; 
"but I kuow what is the first expedient to be done," Then, having 
called all Üie slaves together, who were in disorder, after having 

for benefiU received is oataral to persons well bom; and one of tlie 

sina which most offendeth God is iiif^titiide. This! say, fentlemen, 
because yon already know, bj manifest experience, tbe b(^flt Ton 

have receiTed at mi hands ; in return for which, it is m; desire tbal; 
bearing with you tbis chtdn, wbioh I have taken from your necks, yon 
immeaiately go to the city of Toboso, and there present yoursefves 

before the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, and tell her that Ler knight of 
the sorrowful figure seeds yon to present bis service to faer ; and 
recount to her every cironmstance of this memorsble adventure, to the 
point of reatoriog you lo your visbed-for liberty : this done, yon any 
go wherever good fortune may lead you." 

Qines de_ Passamonte answered for them all, and said; "What 
yonr worship commands ns, noble sir, and onr deliverer, is of all 
impossibilities the most impossible to be complied frith : for we dare 
not be seen together on the road, hut must go separate, each man by 
himself, and endeavour to hide ourselves in tbe verv Dowels of tbo 
earth from the holy brotherhood, who will donbtless oe out in quest 
of us. What your worship may and ought to do is 1o change (his 
service and duty to the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso into a certain 
nmnber of Ave Marias and Credos, which we will say for your wor- 
ship's success ; and this is what we may do, by day m b^ ni^t, flyii^ 
or reposing, in peace or in war; but to think tbat we will nowretom 
to OUT chains, and pat ourselves on our way to Toboso, is to imagine 
it already night, whereas it is not yet ten o'clock in the momin;;: and 
to expect this from ns is toeipect pears from an elm-tree." "I vow, 
then!" quotbBon Quixote, in a rage, "Don son of astmmpet, Don 
Gineaillo de Parapilla, or whatever you call yourself, that you alone 
shall go with your tail between your legs, and the whole ebain upon 
your back I " Passamonte, who was not over passive, seeing himself 
thus treated, and being aware that Bon Quixote, from what he had 
just done, was iwt in his right senses, gave a signal to his comrades, 
upon which they all retired a few paces, and then began to roin sudi 
a shower of stones upon Don Quixote, that he could not contrive to 
cover himself with his buckler ; and poor Eozinante cared no more for 
the spur than if lie had hcen made of brass. Sancho got behbd hja 
ass, and thereby sheltered himself from the hailstorm thtó poured 
upon them both. Don Quijote could not screen himself aufficientiv 
to avoid I know not how many stones that came against bim with suca 
forcethattheybroughthim to the ground; when the student matandy 
fell upon him, and, taking the basm from off his head, gave him three 
or four blows with it over the shoulders, and then struck it as often 
against the ground, «hereby he almost broke it to pieces ' they 
stripped bim of a jacket he wore over his armour, and would have 
taken his trousers too, if the greaves had not hindered thnn. They 
took Sanclio's cloak, leaving nim stripped; and, after dividing the 
spoils of the battle, they made the best of their way off, each Inkinga 
different course : more solicitous to escape the holy brotherhood, than 
to drag their chain to Toboso, and present themselves before the Lady 

The ass and Bozinante, Sancho and Don Qniiote, remained by 
themselves : the ass hanging his head, and pensive, and now and then 
shaking lu« ears, thinking tut the atonn M stones was not yet over, 


and still whiuiDft sbnt bis head ; Boiinnit» baring been brought to 
the RTonitd. la? sCretehed b; his rauter's side ; Suncho stripped, and 
troubled with spprebensiona of the holy brotherliood ; and Don Quixote 
much cha^aeo at being so maltreated by those on whom he had oon* 
fened so greata ben^t. 


Don Qdixotb finding himself thns ¡ll-reqnited, said to his aquire : — 
" Bancho, I hare always heard it said that to do fcood to the vuliiar is 
to throw water into the sea. Had 1 believed what jou said to me, I 
might have prevented this trouble; but it is done— I must hsive 
patience, and henceforth take warning," " Your worship will as 
much take wamii^," answered Sancho, " as I am a Turk : but ilnoe 
yon say that, if you had believed me, the mischief would have beea 
prevented, believe me now, and you will avoid what is still worse; 
fi»', let me tell yon, theit is no putting off the holy brotherhood with 
diivalries ' they do not care two farthingB for all the knighta-enant 
in the world ; and I fancy already that 1 hear their arrows whiaiing 
about my ears," " Thou art naturally a coward, Baocho," said Don 

Sniiote : " bnt, that thou mayest not say tbat I am obstinate, and 
at 1 never do what thou advisest, 1 will for once take thy counsel, 
and retire from that fury of which thou art so much in fear ; but 
upon this one condition — that, neither livinir nor dying, thou shalt 
ever say tbat I retired and withdrew myseli from this peril ont of 
fear, but that I did it out of mere compliance with thy eutreaties. 
If thou sayest otherwise, it is a lie ; and, from this time to that, end 
from that time to this, 1 te!l thee thou liest, and wilt lie, every time 
thou shalt either aay or think it. Eeply nut, for the bare thought of 
withdrawing and retreating from any danger, and especially from this, 
which seems to carry some appearance of darwer with it, mclines me 
to remain here and expect alone not that holy brotherliood only, of 
whom thoa speakest, but the brothers of the twelve tribea of Israd, 
and the seven Maccabees, and Castor and Pollux, and even all tbs 
brothers and brotherhoods in the world." " Sir," answered Sancho, 
"retreatiog is not running away, nor is staying wisdom when the 
danger over-balances tiie nope; and it is the part of wise men to 
tecure themselves to-day for to-morrow, and not to venture iH upon 
one throw. And know that, although I am but a clown and a peasant, 
I yet have eome smattering of what is called good conduct ; therefore 
Kpent not of havii^ taken my advice, but get upon Rozinante if yon 
«an, if not I will assist yon, and follow me ; for my noddle telia me 
that fdr the present we have more need of heels Ximn hands." Don 

auixote moonted without replying a word more ; and, ííancho leading 
e way npon his ass, they entered on one side of the Sierra Morena, 

* A moimtaiD or rather obain of nunmtaina, divkUag tlie kingdom 
Castile from the provisM of AndoJuaia. 


108 i>0¥ «traoTi. 

which was neu ; and it vas Sajicho's intention tapiiutlinnigh it, and 
«et out at Viso or Almodoiar del Campo, and there bide themselves 
for some days among ihose crag^ rocks m case ttie holy brotherhood 
should come in search of them. He was encouraged to this, bf 
findin;! that the provisions carried bv his ass bad escaped safe tiom 
the sLirmish witli the galley^slares which he looked upon as a miracle, 
considering what the slaves took away, and Itow Durowlr the; 
searched. _ 

That night they got into the heart of the Sierra Morena, where 
Sancho thought it would be well to pasa the remainder of the night, 
if not some days; or at least aa long aa their uroTÍsiona lasted. 
Accordiugly there tliey took up their lodging, unoer the shelter of 
rocks ovecgrowD with cork-trees. But destinv, which, accordiu^ to 
the opinion of those who have not the liiht of the true faith, tuides 
and disposes all things its own war, so ordered it that Gines de Pass». 
monte, the famous cheat and robber (whom the valour and phrenty 
of Don Quietóte had delivered from the chain), being iuatly afraid iX 
the holy brotherhood, took it into his head to hide oimself among 
those very mountains; and in the very place where, by the same 
impulse, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had taken refuge ; arriving 
just in time to distinguish who the; were, although they liad fallea 
asleep. Now, as the wicked are always ungrateful, and necessity 
urges des|>en(tc measures, and present couvenienoe overbalances ever; 
consideration of the future, Gines, who bad neither gratitude nor 

Swd-nature, resolved to steal Sancho Panza's ass; not caring for 
ozinante. as a thing neither pawnable nor saleable. Sancho Panza 
slept ; the varlet stoJe his ass ; and before dawn of da; was too far off 
to oe recovered. 

Aurora issued forth, giñag joy to the earth, but grief to Sancho 
Panza, who, when he missed bis Dapple, he^a to utter the most 
doleful lamentations, insomuch that Don Qutxote awakened at his 
cries, and heard him say :— " Ü child of mf bowels, bom in my honso^ 
the jov of my children, the entertainment of mv wife, the envy of my 
neighbours, the relief of my hnrdena, lastly, the half of my mainté- 
nanoe ! — for with the six and twenty maravedís which I have earned 
every day by thy means, have I half supported my family!" Don 
(Juiiote, on learnmg the cause of these lamentations, comforted Sancho 
in the best maunerlie could, and desired bim to have patience, pro- 
misbz to give him a bill of exchange for three asses out of five which 
he had left at home, Saijcho, comforted by this promise, wiped away 
his tears, moderated hia sighs, and thaukcd nis master for the kiuduesa 
he showed him. 

Don Quixote's heart gladdened upon entering among tl 
tuna, being the kind of situation he thought likely to fúm. _ ... 
adventures he was in quest of. The/ recalled to his memorj' the n 

Tellous events which had befallen knights-crrant in such sohtudes and 
deserts. He went on meditating on these things, and his mind waa 
n absorbed in them that he thought of nothmg else. Nor had 
Sancho any other concern, now that he thought himself out of dann 
than to appease his hunger with w'"** -"...'.-."J ^r 4U« «1...,.....^ ,...-ti. 
and thus síttbg sideways, as wot 


■flerliÍB mister, «ppwsü^í bis hnnger while emptyhii? the baiT: and 
vliile so employed M nodd Dot bave fñ^en twomaraTodis for the 
nrest adventure that could bare bap^neii. 

While thus engajied, he raised his eyes, aad observed that his 
master, who had stopped, was endeaTOuring with the point of bis 
lance to raise something that lay upon the invnnd : upon which he 
bastcned to assist him, if neoessary, and came up to biin just as he 
bad turned over with ids lance a saddle-cnshion and a portmantean 
hstened to it, half, or rather quite, rotten and torn, hut eo hravy 
that Sancho was foroed to aliftht in order to take it np. His master 
ordered him to eiamineit. Sancho very readily obeyed, and Rlthoagh 
the portmanteau was secured with its chain and padlock, he could 
■ee throueh the chasms what it contained ; which was, four fine 
Holland sliirts. and other linen, no less curious than dean ; and, in 
ft handlLercbief, he found a quantity of gold crowns, which he no 
woner espied than he exclaimed: Blessed be Heaven, which has 
presented us with one profitable adventure!" And, searching fnr- 
ther, he found a little pocket-book, richly bound: which Don Quixote 
desired to have, biddias him take the money and keep it for himself. 
SsAcbo kissed his lianas for the favour; and taking the hnen oat of 
the portmanteau, he put it in the provender-baR. All this was per- 
ceived by Dan Quixote, wbo said : " I am of opinion, Sancho (nor 
can it possibly be otherwiso), tliat some traveller must have lost hi* 
way in the»e mountains, and fallen into the bands of robbers, who 
have killed him, and hronght him to this remote part to bury aim." 
" It eamwt be so," answered Sancho ; " for, had they been robbers, 
thev would not have left this money here." " Thon art in the right," 
said Don Quixote, " and I cannot conjecture what it should be : but 
stay, let us see whether this pocket-book bas anvthins written in it 
that may lead to a discovory. He opened it, and the first thing be 
fomid was a loueh copy of verses, and, being legible, he read alond, 
thtX Sancho might hear it, the following sonnet : — 

Enow'st thotL lore, the pangs that I lust^. 
Or, cniel, dost thou view Chose pangs unmoved t 
Or tuts soma hidden caoae iui Initu<Dce provad. 

By all this sad rarietyofpoinl 

Lovo is a god, then sorely he must know. 
And bnowinii, pity wretohednass like mino ; 

Prom otber hands proceede Cbc fatal blow—. 
Is then the deed, unpltying Chloe, tUne t 

Ah, no ! a form so eiquisitoly fiúr 
A soul so merciless can ne er snolose. 
From HeaTeu's high will my fate realstloss ñowi. 

And I, Bubraissire, must its renítoance heal. 
Nought but a roirsclo my lile can «ave. 
And snatch its desüned vietiiD fivm the grave. 

«n by aloes de Passomoote. In the first edition of Don QuimU he eon- 
Unued, after the roIalioD of tho thoft, to spuok of tho nss as though it had 
not oeiaed to iw in Saneho's po»se«ion, anil said ¡u this placo; — "Sancho 
followed fala master, mttiag ndawaya on his ass." In Cho seoond edidop, 
be corrected this inadverti^ce, but incomplotcly. and allowed ic to remun 
in ■ovoral pUcea. The Spooiards have relii^ously ];ans«rved his tait, even 
to the «omnuUattooB made by his partial ooireetioii. 


IDB SDH qmxocB. 

" Erom the» venei," quoth Sancho, " nothing can be coQeeteil 
unless from the oloe there given you can come at ihe whole bottom. 
"What cluB is hereF" said Don Quixote. "I thought," said 
Sancho, " yonr worship made a due." " No, I swd Chloe," answered 
Son Quixote; "and aoubtless that is the name of the lady of whom 
tbe author of this aoonet complains; and, in faith, either he is a 
tolerable poet, or I know but little of the art." So then," said 
Sancho, your worship understands makinz verses too ! " " YeOi 
and better than thou thinkes^," answered Don Quisuie; " and eo 
ttian shalt see, when thou bearest a letter to my ladr Uulcinuti del 
Toboeo, written in Terses from begianing to end ; for Itnow, Sanchou 
Hat all or most of the kniRhts^errant of tiznes past itere greac 
poets and great musicians; these two arcomptishments. or nXher 
graces, being annexed to loTera^rrant, True it is that the couplets 
of former knight» have more of passion than elegance in them." 
" ** ~ ~ lir, read on farther/' said Sancho : " perhaps you m^ find 
t to satisfy OS." Don Quixote turned over the leaf, and 

" FtftT, air, read on fatther/' said Sancho : " perhaps you m^ fii 

— letniog to satisfy us." Don Quiiote turned over the leaf, ai 

I : " Tills is in pmae, and seems to be a letter." " A letter of 

sa, air?" demanded Sancho. " fly the bt^inning, it ai 
to be one of bve," ansa-ered Don Quiiote. " Then pray. 
read it aloud," snid Sancho; " for I misliiily relish these iove-mat- 
ten." " With all my heart," said Don Qiiiiote ; and reading aloud, 
■a Sandio desired, he found it to this effect : 

" Thy broken faith, and my certain misery, drives me to a plac« 
whence tbon wilt sooner bear the news of my death than the cause 
of my complaint. Thou hast reoonnoed me, U ungrateful mftid, for 
one of larger possessions, but not of more worth than myself. If 
virtue were a treasure now in esteem, 1 should have no reason to 
envy the good fortune of others, nor to bewail my own wretchedness. 
What thy beauty excited, thy conduct has eraaod : by tbe former I 
thought thee an angel, by the latter 1 know thon art a woman. Feaoe 
be to thee, fair causa rf my disquiet ! and may Heaven grant that 
theperfidy of thy consort remainfor ever unknown to Ihec, that thou 
ma^est not repeat of what thou bast done, and afford me that revenge 
w^ch I do not desire." 

He letter being read, Don Quiiote said : " We can gather little 
more from this than from the verses. It is evident, hovever, that 
the writer of them is some slighted lover." Tlien. turning over other 
parts of tbe book, he found other verses and letters, some of whidt 
were legible, and some not; but the purportwas the same in all — their 
sole conteota being reproaehes, lamentations, suspidon», desires, dis- 
'■'* " ■ 1 ■ 1. ■ . .... - irous praises and 

.., ^ ._ .....iiiiniiiB the hoA, 

Sancho examined the portmanteau, without Icavin.; a corner cither 
in that or in the saddle.cushion which he did not examine, scrutinise, 
and look into, nor seam which he did not rip, nor lock of wool whK^ 
he did not carefully pick— tiiat nothing might be lost from want of 
diligence, or through carelessness— such was the cujiidity excited in 
him by the discovery of this pilden treasure, consisling of more than 
a hundred crowns I And. although he could lind no luore, he thought 
himself abundantly rewarded bf those already in his possession for the 
tossings in the bUnket, tbe vomitings of Ibc balsam, the bcnediotioo8«f 

TBI XAeOKD niCHT. 109 

tte paek-stATes, the onfls of the carrier, the kes of tiie wallet, and 
the theft of bis cloak ; toother with all the bim^, thinl, and 
lUieue he had suffered in his good master's serrÍM. 

The knight of the sorrowtul figai« was eitremel; desirooa to 
know who wsb the owner of liie portoiontewi ; fur he concluded, &oni 
tite Bonnet and the letter, br the moaey in gold, and b^ the fineness of 
tíie linen, that it must dosotlees tielont; to some lover of condition, 
«horn the disdain and illtreatment oi bis mistreai had redaoed to 

he ahoold certainiy meet with some stian^ adventure. 

As he went onwards impressed with this idea, he espied, on the top 
of a rising ground not Sai from him, a man springing from rock to 
look with eztraordinarj tt^t];. He seemed to be ahaost naked, his 
beard black and bosh;, bis hair lonii and tangled, bis legs and feet 
bore ; he bad on breeches of sad-oolonred Telret, bat so ragged aa 
Meroelf to cover him ; all whicb particuiars, though he passed awiftlf 
by, were observed bj the koigbt. He endeavoured, but in TaÍD,.to 
follow him ; for it was not given to Hoziuante's feeoleness to make 
way over those cragRy plaoea, eei)ecjft!l]f as be waa naturally slow- 
footed and phlegmatic, Una Quixote immediately conceived that 
this must be the owner of the saddle-cushion and portmanteau, and 
resolved therefore to go in search of bim, even though it should prove 
a twelvemonth's labour, in that wild region. Ue immediately com- 
manded Sancho to cut snort over one side of the mountain, wnile he 
skirted the other ; as they miglit possibly by this expedition £ad the 
Kta vrbo had so suddenly vanishál from their sight I cannot do it," 
answered Sancho; " for the moment I offer to stir from vour worship 
fear i> upon me, assaulting me with a thousand kind of terrors ana 
mipaiitions ; and let this serve to advertise you that henceforward I 
depart not a finger's breath from your presence," " Be it so," said 
he of the sorrowful figure ; " and I am well pleased that thou 
riioaldat relv upon my courage, which shall never fail tbe^ though 
the very soul in thy body should desert thee. Follow me, therefoifi, 
aten by step, or as thou canst, and make lanterns of thine eyes ; we 
will go round this cragi^y bill, and perhaps we may encounter the nan 
we Ba«v who, doubtless, is the owner of what we have found." To 
which Sancho replied : " It would be mucli more prudent not to look 
liter him : for if we should Snd him, and be, perchance, proves to be 
the owner of the money, it is plain I must restore it : and, therefore, 
it would be better, without this unnecessary diligcnoe, to preserve it 
fiáthfulll^ until, by some way less curious and officious, its true owner 
sbail be foand ; by which time, perh^w, 1 mav have spent it, and then 
I am free by taw." "Therein tbou art mistaken, Sancho," answered 
Don Quixote -, " for, since we have a vehement suspicion of who is the 
right owner, it is our duty to seek him, and to return it ; otherwise 
that suspicion makes us no leas guilt/ than if he really vere so. Do 
not then repine, friend Sancho, at this search, considering bow mucli 
I shall be relieved by finding bim." Then be pricked Koziuante on, 
and Sant^ followed ; when, hiring gone ronnd part of the mountain. 
Ihev found a dead mule lying in a brook, saddled and bridled, and 
halt-^levoured by dogs and onrm; vbioh confirmed them in the 


DOIT qinxoTE. 

nioatfaat he who fled item them wu owner both of the mule and 

. bundle. 

Wbilc they stood looking at ibe mule, they beard a vhistle like 
that of a sliepherd tendins his flock ¡ and preseutly. on their left 
appeared a number of croats, and behind them, higher up oa the 
mountain, an old man, being the soatherd tliat kept them. Don 
Quixote called to him aloud, and beckoned him 1o come down to 
them, lie as loudly answered, inquiring what had brT)u<.'bt them to 
that desolate place, seldom or never trodden nnless by the feet of 

Cls, wolves, or other beasts that freqnentcd those mountains P 
L'lio promised, in reply, that if he would come down, they would 
satisfy him in eTcrything, The goatherd descended, and coming to 
the place where Don Quixote stood, he said : " I suppose, gentlemen, 
you are looking at the dead mnle ? In truth, it has now lain there 
tlieae six months. Pray tell me, have yon met with his master here- 
abouts?" "We have met with nothing," answered DonQuisot^ 
" hut B saddle-cushion and a small porfmantean, which we found not 
far hence." " I found it, too," answered the goatheid, " but would 
by DO meana take it up, nor come near it, for fear of some mischief, 
and of being charged with theft : for the devil is subtle, and lays 
stumbling-blocka m our way, over which we fall without knowing 
bow." " So say I," answered Sancho ; " for ] also found it, and 
would not go within a stone's throw o( it ; there I left it, and there it 
may lie for me : for 1 will not have a dog with a bell. " Tell me, 
honest man," said Don Quixote, " do you «now who is the owner of 
these goods?" "What i know," said the goatherd, " is that six 
months ago, more or less, there came to a shepherd's hut, about three 
leagues from this place, a genteel and comely voutb, mounted on the 
Terr mule which lies dead there, and with the same saddle-ouabiou 
ana portmanteau that yon say you found and tonehed not. He 
inquued of us which part of these mountains was the most rude and 
uuvequeuted. We told him it was here where we now are i aud so 
it is tidy, for if you were to go on about half a league farther, per- 
Lapa you would uever find the way out : and I wonder bow you coidd 
¥3t even hither, since (here is no road nor peth to lead yon to it. 
he youth then, I say, hearing our answer, turned about his mule and 
made towards the part we pomted out, leaviug us all pleased with hi> 
goodly ^pcarance, and wondering at bis question and the haste he 
made lo reach the mountain, Vrota that Que we saw him not again 
until some days after, when he issued out upon one of onr shepherds, 
and, without saying a word, struck him and immediately fell upon our 
snmpter-ass, vliicb he plundered of onr bread and cheese, and then 
fled again to the rocks with wonderful awiftnesa. Some (d ns goat- 
herds after this sought for him nearly two days through the most 
intricate part of these mountains, and at last fonnd him lying in the 
hollow of a large cork-tree. He came out to us with much gentleness, 
his garments turn, and his face so disfigured and scorched by the sun, 
that we should scarcely have known him, but that his olotbes, ragged 
as tbev were, couvinoed us he was the person we were in search after. 
He saluted us courteouslv, and in few nut dvil words bade us not be 
surprised to see him in that condition, which wis necessary in order 
to perform a certain penance eqfoined him for his manifold fita. We 
entreated him to tell us who he ww, but could get no more from him. 
We also desired him to inform us wheiv he mi^ be fomid -, because 
,, .A.OOgIC 


«hen he stood in need o( food, without which he conid ttot snbsut, 
we would willinglr bring aome to him ; and. if this did not please bim, 
we befr^ed tliat at least Qe would come and ask for it, and not take it 
nvft}' from the shepherds b^ force. He tbtmkcd us fur our offers, 
beeged pardon for his past tioIgdcc, and promised thonceforth to ask 
it for God's sake, without molesting anybody. As to the place of bis 
abode, he said he had no other than that ubich chance presented him 
wherever the night overtook bim; aod he ended bis discourse with bo 
man; tears, that we who beard taim most bare been Tery stones not to 
have wept with bim, cousiderinR what he was when we first saw him, 
and what be now ^peered : tor, as 1 before said, he was a tery 
comely and graceful youth, and by his courteous behaviour showed 
himaelf to be well-bmn ; which was evident even to country-people 
like us. Suddenly be was silent, and, fixing his eyes on the ground, 
he remained in that posture for a long time, whilst we stood still in 
Ruspense, waiting to see what would be the end of his trance : for br 
his motionless position, and the furious look of his eyes, frowninj; and 
biting bis lips, we jud^ that his mad fit was coming on ; and indeed 
oar suspiotoas were quick!/ confirmed, for be suddenly darted fbr- 
waid, aiid fell with ^teat turj upon one that stood ceit him, whom 
he bit and struck with so mach violence that, if we bad not released 
him, he would have taken away his life. In the midst of his rage he 
ftejjuentlr called out, 'Ah, traitor Fernando ! now shaJt thou pay for 
the wrong thou hast done me; these bands shall tear out tliat heart, 
the dark dwelling of deceit imd villanyl'and to these added other 
eipressbus, all pointed at the same femando, and charging him with 
ikjaehood and treacbeiy. We disengaged our companions from him 
»t last, with DO small difficnlty ; upon which he suddenly left us, and 
plnnged into a thicket so entangled with bushes and briars that it was 
unpoaeible to follow bim. By this we guessed that his madness 
nnmed br fits, and that some person whose name is Fernando must 
have dnie him some iiLJnr? of so rricTons a nature as to reduce him 
to the wretched condition io whick he appeared. And in that we 
have since be«a oonfingwd, as he has bequently oome out into the 
road, B(Hnetiniee begging food of the shepherds, and at other timea 
tekisg it from them i^ force: for when the mad fit is upon him, 
tiioagn the shepherds ofier it freelr, he will not take it witbont 
eoming to blows ; but, when he is in nia senses, he asks it with cour- 
tesj and receives it with thanks, and even with tears. In truth, gen- 
tlemen, I mast teU joa," eontinned the goatherd, "that ycsterda; I 
nd four joDQf men, two of them my servants and two mj friends, 
tceolved to go in search of him, and, liaving found him, either by per- 
Boasiom w fotce cwry him to the town of Almodovar, which is eight 
kigñea off, there to get him cured, if his distemper be curable ; or at 
kast to learn who he is. and whether he has any relations to whom 
we may {[ive notice of his misfortune. This, gentlemen, is all 1 can 
tell you, in answer to yonr inquiry; hy_ which you may underaland 
that the owner of the goods you fonnd is the same wretched person 
who passed you so qnickly ;" — for Don Quixote had told bim that he 
had seen a man leaping about the rocks. 

Don Quixote was surprised at what he beard from the goatherd; 

■nd. beinic now still more desirous of_ knowing who the unfortunate 

ntadmaii was, be renewed his determination to search every part of 

the inonnbun> letvins neither comer nor oave unexplored ontd he 


118 Dov qmxon. 

^oold find him. But fortune matured better for him than be 
eipeoCed ; for at that laj iostuit the same jooth appeared descend- 
ing towarda then, má muttering to himself somethinx which was not 
intelligible. The tags be vorc were luch as bave been described : 
but, as he drew near, Don Quixote perceived that bis buff lioublet, 
though torn to pieces, still retained the perfume of ».niber, whence he 
concluded tbat be could not possibly be of low condition. Mr'heo tbe 
Toong man came op to them, he saluted them in a hu^h and nntiined 
Toice, but with a civil air. Bod Quixote poUtelj returned the salute, 
and alighting from KoEinanle, with nuoeiul demeanour and address, 
advanced to embrace him, and held him a considerable time daspea 
within hia arms, as if they had been long acquainted. Tbe other, 
wham we ma; tnijj coll the tattered knight oi the woeful, as Don 
Quixote was of tlie eorrowful, figure, having suffered himself to be 
embraced, drew back a little, and, lajiiu: his nands on Don Quixote's 
shoulders, stoodcontemplating him, as ilto ascertain whether ne knew 
him: and perhaps no less surprised at th» aspect, demeanonr, and 
habiliments of the knight than was Don Quixote at tbe sight of him. 
In short, the first who broke mleni» after thia preliiiie wm the 
"ragged knight;" and what he said shall be told in the next 


A eetiimatiex if Vti advnttm ú At Siirra iiorma. 

The histor7 informs US that greatwas the attention wherewith Don 
Quixote bstened to the " tattered knight " of the mountain, who thus 
addressed himself to the knight: "Asinredlr, signor, whoever 7011 
are, for I do not know you, I am oblwed to jou for the courtesy yon 
bave manifested towards me ; and 1 wish it were in my power to 
serve yon with more than my goodwill, which is all that my fate 
allows me to offer in return for your civility." " 80 great is my desire 
to do you service," answered Don Quixote, " that I had determined 
not to qnit these mountains until I loond you and learned from yonr- 
Bclt wbetber your affliction, which is evident by the atrauRe life you 
lead, may admit of any remedy, and, if so, make every possible exer- 
tion to procure it ; and. should your misfortune be of sucb a kind that 
everv avenue to contoktion is cloeed, I intended to join in yonrmoans 
end lamentations—for sympathy is ever an alleviation to misery ; and 
if you should think my mtention merits any acknowledzment, I 
beseech you, sir, hy the infinite courtesy I see jou possess ; I conjure 
youalao by whatever in this life yon have loved, ordo love moat, to 
tell me who vou are, and what has brought you hither, to live and die 
like ft brute Mast, amidst these solitudes : an abode, if I may jndgn 
from your person and attire, so nnsoitable to you. And 1 swear," 
added Don Quixote, " by the order of knighthood I have received, 
though unworthy and a sinner, and by tbe profession of a knight- 
errant, if yon gratify me in this, to serve yan with all the cuem 
which it ia n; duty to eiert, either in remedying your míafortuue if it 


ClXDUnO S WKST. 113 

ailrnit cf nvKdj, of m Msuting yon to hernial il, aa I htxt already 
promised." The " knight of tbe mountain," heating him of "tbesor- 
lovrul figure " talk thiu, oould odI? sbzb upoo him, viewing him from 
head to Toot ; and, aft^r surreyiug him attain ana again, be said to 
him: "If you have anithing to gire me to eat, for ileafen's sake Let 
me have it ; and when I have eaten I will do lul fos desire, in ntuni 
for the good wiahee yuu have exprcised towards me." 

Sancho iuuuediateiy took froiD his nallet, and the goatJieTd from 
hia scrip, some provisions, wherewilh the wrotcbed wauderer satisfied 
bis hunger : eabnx what they gave him like a distracted person, so 
lavenouslj that He made no interv^ betweeu oue muathfnl and 
another, for he rather devoured than ate: and during his repast 
neither tie nor tlie bf-standcra apoke a word. When he had flniaked, 


himself down, and the rest did the same. When the tattered kiiight" 
hadconiposea bimBelf, he said: "If you desire, gestlemm, that I 
aliould teli^ou, in few words, the immensity of my misfortune«, jim 
must promise not to intermpt, by quustions or otherwise, the thnaa 
of mv doleful history ; for in liie instant you do no. my nairalive will 
break o£" These words brought to Doo Quixote s memory the tale 
related by his squire, which, because he had not reckoned the number 
of goats that had passed the river, remained unfinished. " 1 give this 
caution," said the ragged moutaiueer, " because 1 wouJd pass Imefly 
over the account of uiy misfortunes ; for recalling them to mv remem- 
bnmoe only adds to my woe ; and the less I am questioned the sooner 
shall I have finished my story i yet will I not omit any material 
circumstance, as it is my wish entirely to satisfy you." Don Quixote, 
in the Dune of all Üie rest, promised not to interrupt Mm, and apon 

""" ; he began in the following manner; — 

isCardeiÚD; the pUoeof mybiiÜi, cneof thebest ctties 

_ ._ i my family noble : my parents wealthy ; my wreldhed- 

iie68 so great, that it must have been aei^ored by my wents, and felt 
by my relations, although nut to be alleviated by all their wealth: kt 
nclies are of little avail in uiauy of tlie ealamiliee to whic^ numkiiMl 
are liable. In that citv there existed a heaven, wherein love had 
placed all the joy I could desire ; suoh is the beiiuty of Lucinda, a 
damsel as well^m and as rich as myself, tliough more fortunate, and 
bss constant than my houourable in1«utiona deaerved. This Lucbda 
1 loved and adored from my diildhood ; and she on hei part loved me 
with that innooeut affection propw to her age. Our parents were 
not unacquainted with our attactuneat, nor was ¡t displeasing to them 
—foreseeing that it oould only end in a union sauotioned, as it were, 
by the equality of our birth and oircumstanoes. Our love iocreaaea 
with our years, insomuch tliat Luciuda's father thoaght it prudent to 
testraiu my wonted freedom of acoess l4i his house : thus iniitatinc 
the pwests of the unfortJiiiate Thisbe, ao oolebrat^d ta' the poets. 
This restraint served only to ioorease the ardour of our aScetion ; for, 
Uiough it was in their power to impose úLence on onr tonguM, thef 
ooDuI not do the same on our pens, which reveal the aeorets of the 
soul more effectually than even the speech, for the presence of a 
beloved object o^en so bewilden and confounds its faoultiea that the 
toonie cannot perform its office. heaveni, bow many biUet-doux 
did! writ« to W 1 What charming^ what modest; answecs did I 
' '' A.OOgIC 

"ilj nan 

f Andalua 

leoeive! How manr naiiets did I pen! How mtuf hn-vtnea 
mdite, ID which m; ionl unfoUed all its pasaitnL deecribed its ardoor, 
diensbed its ramerahnuoes, uid indulged its imej ! At lengtii mj 
patience being exluiuM«d, and uj; sool languishing to see her, I 
resolved at once to put into «nectitioD what seemed to me the moet 
likeljr meaos to obtain m; desiied and deserred reward : that whs, to 
demand her of bei father for mv lawM wife ; which I immediatelr 
did. In reply, he tWiked me lor the desire I expressed to honour 
him hj an aUianoe with his fuDÜj'; bntthat, as m; father was liring, 
it belonged more properly to him to moke this demand; for withont 
hi* entire concurrence the aot would appear secret, and unworthy of 
his Lnoinda. I returned bim thanks tor the kindoeas of hia recep- 
tion ; bis sorupleB I thou^t were reaaonable, and I made snre of mv 
other's ready aoqoiesoenoe. 1 went therefore directly to fann, and 
«on entering hu apartment fonnd him with a letter open in his band, 
which hemre me ttSon 1 spoke » word, saying, ' By this letter, 70U 
will see, uírdenio, the inoUnation Duke Bicardo has to do yon tervioe.' 
Dake Ricardo, Kentlemen, as yon cannot but know, is a mndee of 
^ain, wboee etbte lies in the best part of Andalusia, I read the 
iMter, whidi was to extremely kind, that I thought, eren myself, it 
woula be wrong m my father not to comply with its request, which 
was that I shouid be sent iannediatelT to the duke, who was desinnis 
of placing me, not aa a man servant, but as a companion to his eldest 
boo; which honour should be accompanied br such preferment as 
aboold correspond with the estimation in whioh he held me. 1 was 
nevertheless much perpleied by the letter, and qnite cooiounded when 
I beard m; father say : ' Two oays hence, Cordenio, yon shall depart, 
ji oompliaoce with the duke's desire : and give thanks t " ' 
. -_ ..^jj ^ ^^j jQ (jjiij fortune 1 ' ■^ ' ^ 

>T petenia] admonitions. 

ime fixed for my departí 

...A Lucinda, and told hei , , . 

entreated her fother to wait a few dajs, and not to dispose of her 
nntUIknewwhat SukeKicardo'spleasurewaswilhme. He promised 
me all I desired, and she confirmed it with a thoosand tows and a 
thousand funtings. I arrived, in short, at the residence of Duke 
Bicardo, who received and treated me with so much kindness that 
envy soon became active, by posseaiing hia old servants with an. 
opinion that every favour the duke conferred upon me was prejudicial 
to their interest. But the person most pleased at my arrival was a 
seoood son tí the duke, called Femando, s sprightly yonng ^ntleman, 
of- a gallant, liberal, and amorous dbpositioo ; who in a short time 
contracted so intimate a friendship with me, that it became the 
Bubject of geon-al conversation ; and though t was treated with much 
favour by nis elder brother, it vas not equal to the kindness and 
affeddon of Bod Fernando. 

" Now, as unbounded confldenoe is always tie effect of suth inti- 
macy, and my friendship for Don Fernando being most sincere, he 
revráled to me ali his thoughts, and particulariy an amonr which gave 
him some disquiet. He luved a country giri, the daughter of one erf 
bJA father's vassals. Her parents were ndi, and she hemelf was so 
neuutiful, discreet, and modest, that no one coold determine in which 
of these qualities she nuMt eicclled. Don Femando's pasaion for this 
lovely maukn wea id eiceasiv^ tha^ ia order to orerooine the difBcul 


ti» oppooed t^ W TÍrtoe, he rMoWed to promise her nium^: 
kDcraiiig that ane was to be oonquered bj no other iae«ns. Fromptei] 
hj ñieiulahip, I emplOTed the best «nraments I could sapgeat, to 
divert bim tirom Buoh a purpose ; but, findiiig it was all in rain, t 
ntolved to acqDaint hia nther the dute vith the tk^ir. Don Ter- 
sando, htiag artfnl and ihrewd, suspected aoá fetved no lesa ;' kncrr- 
ing tíútt I €0uld Dot^ as a hithiul serrant, oonceal from in; lord and 
master a ocwxm so prejndicis] to his hononr: and therefore, to 
amase and deoóre me, he said, that he knew no better remedy for 
Adngthe ramembrtúioe of the be«itythiit had so oaptiTat«dhiin 
HtUL to abaent hims^ for some monihe: this, he said, m¡K;bt be 
effected br our gohiK together to my father's house, under pretence, 
as he wadd t«B the Qnk^ of parehaainff horees in onr town, which ia 

1..1.1. r J — : — 4.i._ i.__j in tdo world. No sooner had he 

'. by mj own lore, I expressed mj 
i possiblr oonid M devised ; and 
_ . «n leas plansible, sinoe it afforded 

ipportonibr of retninisg to see my dear Lucinda. 
Thna influenced, iBeoonded his design, and desired him to put it in 
exeou&m without delay ; since abeenoe, I assored him, would oer- 
ttúüj baT« its effect in spite of the stronseet inobnation. At the 
my üme he made this proposal to me he liad already, «a appeared 
■ftówarda, possessed the maiden nnder the title of a hosband, and 
onlvwaitedMr aoonTcnient season to dirulge it with safety to him- 
>eu, being a&aid of what tiie duke his father mig^it do, when be 
■honld hela of hit folly. Now, aa hne in yonng men is, for the mmrt 
pact, nothing but appetito, and i^easure its ultimate end, it espirea 
with the attunmoit of its <d)ieot; and what seems to be lore vanishes, 
because it has nothiw of the durable nature of tme aSeoticn). In 
short, Don Fernando naving obtained his desire, his fondness abated ; 
sod that abseauN which he propoaed as a remedy for his passion, he 
mHj chose to avwd what was now no longer agreeable toliim. The 
dnite consented to his proposal, and ordered ne to bear him com- 
pany. We reached our city, and dit father reoai»ed him aooordin" 
*~ ■■- Twdity. I inunediatoQf visited Lucinda ; mj passion revivea 
a, in hmth, it liad been neither dead nor asleep), and, nnfor- 
la for me, I revealed it to Don Fernando ; thinkin;^ that, by the 
)f fnendshii^ ootíüng sboold be conceided from him. I etpa- 
ao much cm the beauty, grace, and dfaoretion of Lueind^ that 
-^-TS exdted in him a ¿leeire of seeinR a damsel endowed with 

¿owed her tc , „_. ._,, _ , 

when we wen aocnatomed to oonvecse together. He bebeM her,' 
asd erenr bemtjr he had hitherto seen was oist in oblivion, lie was 
atrock diunb; ne hnt all sense: he was entranced — in short, he 
beciune deeply enamoured, as will appear bf the sequel of my unfor- 
tunate story. And, the more to iimsme his passion, which he con- 
oealñi from me, he saw by (Glance a letter which she had written to 
me, eipreasin|[ a wish that I would attain urge her father's consent to 
our marriage m terms so sensible, so modest, and so full of teoder- 
iKss, that when he had read it he declared to nie that he thonght in 
Lncuida alone were united all the beaaty, good sense, and excellent 
quahties wliioh were dispersed ana divided among the rest of her 
aex. Trm Aia,l ooofess, tlut althongh I knew what just cause Don 
i2 I A.oo^^k' 

and fideÜty of Lucinda, Tet I could not hut drejid the ver; thing 
against vhich thej' se«mea to secure me. He also constantlj impor- 
toned me to show him the letter? I «rote to Lucinda, as well aa her 
answers, pretending to be extremely delighted with both. 

" Now it hatipeued that Lucinda, having desired me to lend her s 
book of chivalr)', of whioh she was very fond, entitled Amadia dc 

Glanl " Scarcely had Don Quixote heard him mention a book (rf 

ohival/y, than he said : "Had you told me, sir. at the beginning' of 
yoni hishny, that the Lady Locinda was fond of reading books of 
chiTahj, no more would have been necessary to convince me of the 
sublimity of her nnderstanding ; for it could never have been so 
excellent as you have deacriltcd it bad she wanted a relish for sneh 
savoury Teading; so that, with resi>ect to me, it is needless to waste 
more words in displayiiw her beauty, worth, and understanding, 
ainee, from onlv knowing her taste, I pronounce her to be the mi»i 
beautiful and the most mgenious vmman in the world. And I wisb, 
sir, that, together with Amadis de Gaul, you had sent her the good 
DonKujrei of Greece: for I know that the Lady Lucinda will bo 
highly delighted with Daraida and Garaya, and tlie wit of the shep- 
herd Uarinel ; also with ihose admirable verses of his Bucólica whiefa 
he snng and repeated with so much grace, nit, and freedom. But 
this fault may be amended, and reparation made, as soon as ever jwi 
will be pleased, sir, to come with me to our town, where I can furnish 
jaa with more than three hundred books that are the delight of mv 
«oul, and the entertainment of my hfe. Yet it now occurs to me I 
have not one of them left— thanks to the malice of wicked and 
envious enchanters! Pardon me, air, for having broken my promise 
by this interruption ; but when I hear of matters eppcrtaioing to 
knights-errant and cmval]7, I can as well forbear talking of them aa 
the Mams irf the sun can cease to give heat, or those of the moon to 
moisten. Pray, therefore, excuse me, and proceed ; for that is of 
most importance to us at present." 

"While Don Quixote «as su.ving all this, Cudenio hung down his 
head npon his brcust. appari'ntly in profound thought ; and although 
Don Quixote twice desired liim to eontinue his story, he neither lifted 
up his head nor answered a word. Kut after some time he raised it, 
and said : " I cannot get it out of my mind, nor can any one persuade 
Die — indeed he must be a blockhead who understands or believes other- 
wise—but that Master Elisnbat, tliat wicked rogue, lay with Queen 
Modasima." "It is false, 1 swear," answered Don Quixote, in great 
wrath ^ "it is extreme malice, or rather villany, to say so. Queen 
Uadasima was a very noble lady, and it is not to be presumed that so 
high a princess shomd associate wiih a quack ; and whoever asserts 
that she did, lies like a very rascal : and I will make him know it, on 
foot or on horseback, anned or unarnied, by night or by day, or how 
be pleases." Cardtnio sat looking at bim very attentively, and, the 
mad fit being now upon liim, he was in no condition to proaeeute his 
story, neither would Don Quixote have heard him, M much was ho 
iiritated by what be bad hoard of Madaaimtj and itranKs it waa to 


cabsbhio hshts mra uncko. 117 

m him take tin part vith u moch eameibieM u if she had been 
bis Iroe tutd uatonl mistress— such vas the effect of tliaae cursed 


Cardemo. being now mod, said hearing himself called liar and 
tilkin, witti other opprobrious oamea, did not like the jest; and, 
catching at a stone that lay dose hj bin), be threw it with such 
violence at Don Quixote's breast tbot it threw him on bis back. 
Sancho Panza, seeing his master treated io ttib maoiu r, aitockod the 
madman with his clenched fist -. aitd the ra^d knight received him 
in sncb sort, that with one blow he laid him at his feet, and then 
trampled him to his heart's content. The ffoatberd, who eiideavoDred 
to defend him, fared little better ; and when the madman had suffi- 
ciently vented his fui7 upon thcoi all, bo left them, and quietlf 
retired to his rocky haunts amoiu; the moontains. iJencbo got up in 
Borage to find himself eo rouRlil; bandied, and so underservedlf 
nitlial, and was proceeding to take revrnge on the goather^ toUin¿ 
'"'■'''' ' ' . ' • .1 ling tbat this 

man was subject to these mad fits ; for had they known it tlicy might 
bftTC been upon their ^uard. Tlie goatherd answered tiiat ho had 

g'ven them notice of it, and that, if they had not attended to it, the 
ult vos not his. Sancho Pau7.a replied, the goatherd rejoined ; and 
the replies and rejoinders tndcd in taking each other by the beard, 
and cominf to such blows, that, if Don Quixote had not interposed, 
fhej would have demohsbed each other. Uut Sancho still kept fast 
hold of the goatherd, and said, " Let me alone, sir knight of the 
sorrowful figure, fur this fellow being a bumpkin like miaelf, and not 
a knight, I may verf safely revenge myself by fighting h ith him hand 
to hand, like a man of honour." " True," said Ito^Quiiote, " hut I 
knov tout he is not to hhime for wliat has bap^iened." Hereupon 
they were pacified ; and Duu Quiiute wain inquired of tíie goatherd 
whether it were possilile to find out Cardenio : lor he bad a vehement 
deaite to learn the eml of liis store. The goatherd told him, as before, 
that he did not exacllf know liis haunU, but tliaC, if he waited some 
time about that part, he would not M to meet him, either in or out 


WiicA treatt ¡¡f tit itrangi lAingi thai b^d tht tuiiaiU hiigkt qf La 
JTomUa tn lAt Sicmt Moriaa; awl iov He imilattd thd p*Hayut qf 

Don Quixote took his leave of the goatherd, and, mounting 
B(KÍnante, commanded Sancho to follow aim; which he did very 
nnwillinaly. They proceeded slowly on, making their way in the 
most diincult recesses of the mountain ; in the mean time Sancho nos 
dving to oonverse with his master bnt woijd fain have had liim bejim 
thediscourse, that he might not disobey his orders. Being, however, 
unable to hold out any longer, be swd tohim ; " Signor Don Quiiote, 
be pleated to give me 7our worship's bleaaiog, and my dismission ; for 


1 Till eet home to mj wife and ehildm), with vbom 1 shall at least 
hare the prívile;^ of talking and speakins mj' mind : for, to desire me 
to bear your worship comimnythroug-h these solitudes nieht and day, 
withoot snfferinir me to talk when I list, is to bury me alive. If fate 
had ordered it that beasts should talk now, as tbey did in the days of 
Gaisopete, it would not have been qnite eo bad, since L might then 
have communed with my ass as 1 pleased, and so hare foncottea mj 
ill fortune : for it is very hard, ana not to be borne with patience, for 
a man to ramble about all his life in quest of adventures, and to meet 
with nothing bnt kicks and cuffs, tossings in a blanket, and bangs with 
stones, and, with all this, to have his mouth sewed up, not daring to 
utter what he has in his heart, as if he were diunb," I understand 
thee, Sancho," ansrfered Don Quixote ; " thou art impatient until I 
take off the emhargo I have iud on toy tongue. Snppose it, then, 
rwnoved, and thou art permitted to say what thou wilt, upon condi- 
tion that this lerocation is to'last no longer than whilst we are wan- 
dering amongst these rocks." " Be it so," said Sancho ; " let me 
talk now, for Glod knowa what will be hereafter. And now, taking 
the benefit of this licence, I ask, what had your worship to do with 
standing np so warmly for that same Queen Magimasa, or what's her 
nameF or what was it to thepunxise whether that abbot* was her 
gallant or not ? for, had j'ou let tliat pass, as you were not his judge. 
I verily beLeve the madman would have ¿one on with his stoiy, and 
von would have escwed the thump with the stone, the kicks, and above 
ualf'a-doEen buffets." 

" in faith, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, " it then didst bnt 
know, as I do, how honourable and how eicellent a lady Queen Made- 
sima was, I am certain thou wouldst acknowledge that 1 had a great 
deal of patience in forbearing to dash to pieces that mouth out of 
which such blasi^emies issued ; for it is a monstrous impiety to si^, 
or even to think, that a (jueen should be paramour to a barber- 
snrgeon. The truth of the story is, that master Elisabat, of whom 
the madman spoke, was a most prudent man, of sound judpnent, and 
KTved a» tutor and physician to the queen ; but, to suppose that she 
was bis mistress is an absurdity deserving of severe punishment ; and 
to prove that Cárdenlo knew not what he spoke, thou mavest remem- 
ber that, when he said it, he was not in his senses." " That is what 
I say," qnoth Sancho ; and therefore no account should have been 
made of his words ; foi\ if good fortune had not befriended jonr wor- 
ship, and directed the mnt-stone at your breast instead of your head, 
we had. been in a fine condition for standing up in defence of that 
dear lady, whom Heaven confound ; and Cardenio would have come 
off unpunished, being insane," Against the sane and insane," 
answered Don Quixote, " it is the duty of a knight-errant to defend 
the honour of women, particularly that of a queen of such eialted 
worth as Qncen Madasima, for whom 1 have a particular affection, on 
acconnt of her excellent qualities : for, besides bcnig extremely beau- 
tiful, she was very prudent, and very patient in her afflictions^^ which 
were numerons; and the connsets and company of master Elisabat 
were of great use and comfort to her, enabhng her to bear her suffer- 
ings with prndeuce and patience. Hence the ignorant and evil- 

" "Abad." Sancho, ranmabering only the latUr port of mastoi 
"Haabat't naiM^ plwwtnUy «aUa hlu an abbot. 



minded valgar took oeouioa to aap that she «as his paramour ; and 
I sajr Bcain, thef lie, and «ill lie t«o bondred times more, all «ho »nj 

or thiiii it, " I neither say nor think so," anawered Sancho. " Let 
those «ho sar it eat the lie, and swallow it with their bread : vhethei 
they «ere guiltf or no, the; have given aoooont to God before now. 
1 oome from m; vinejara i 1 know nothing. I am no friend to inquir- 
ing into other men's lives ; for he that hufs and lies shall find the 
Me left in his purse behind. Beaides, n^ed was I born, and naked I 
remain ; I neither win nor lose ; if they were gnilty, what is Üiat to 
me? Many thiuk to find hacoi^ «ben there is not so much as a pb 
to hang it on ; hut who can hedfre iu the cuckoo — especial^ as God 
himself is not spared?" "HeaTca defend mo!" uúdDon Qaisote' 
" what a string of nonsense ! ^Vhat has our subject to do with all 
these proverbs ? Prythee, Sancho, peace ; and henceforward attend 
to thy ass, and forbear onV interference with what does not oonoem 
thee. Be conTÍnccd, bv thy five senses, that wjiatever I have done, 
do. or shall do, b highW reasonable and exactly confonnabie to the 
rules of chivalry, wnicb 1 am better acquainted with than all the 
knights whoever professed it in the worltL " Sir," replied Sancho, 
" is it a good rule of chivalry for us to go wandering through these 
mountaias, without either path or rood, in quest of a madman who, 
perhaps «¿en he is found, will be inclined to finish what he 
began— cot his stoij, but the breaking of your «orship's head and 
my ribs?" 

" Peace, Sancho, I repeat," said Don Quinóte ; " for know that it 
is not onlv the desire of finoii^ the madman that brings me to these 
ports, hut an intention to perform in them an exploit wnereby I shall 

niire pen>etaal tame and renown over the face of the whole earth ; 
it shall be anch an one as shall set the seal to moke on aocom- 
plished knight-errant." "And is this exploit a verv dangerous one F " 
quoth Sancno. " No," answered the knight ; " altoough Uie die may 
chance to run unfortnimtely for ns, yet the whole will depend upon 
thy diligence." " Upon my diligence ! " esclaimed Sancho. " Yea," 
said Don Quixote ; for if thy return be speedy from the place whi- 
ther I intrad to send thee, my pain will soon be over, and my gbrj 
forthwith commence : and that thou mayest no longer be in suspense 
with regard to the tendency of my words, I inform thee, Sancho^ that 
the fmnous Amadis de Gaul was one of the most perfect of kmghts- 
errant — I should not say one, for he «as the sole, the prinoipanthe 
nnigue — in short, the prmce of all his contemporaries. A fig lorDon 
Beliaois, and all thoee «ho say that he equalled Amadis in anything I 
for I swear they are mistaken. I say, moreover, that if a painter 
would be famous in his art, he must endeavour to copy alter the 
originalB of the most excellent masters ; the uune rule is also appli- 
cable to all the other arts and sciences which adorn the common- 
wealth ; thus, whoever aspires to a reputation for prudence and 
patience, most imitate TJIysses, in «hose person and toüa Homer 
draws a lively picture of those qualities ; so also Tii^ in the oha- 
iseter of £aeaa, delineates filial pietv, courage, and martial skill. 
being representations of not «hat tney really were, but of what 
they onpii to be, in order to serve as models of virtue to saoceeding 
gñieTations. Thus was Amadis the polar, the morning star, and the 
son of oil valiant and enamoured knighia, and whini-all we, who 
müitota onda the baonen of love ana obivaliy, ought to ioUov. 
, , . .A.OOgIC 


Thia bein^ the case, fiiend Sancho, that kDÍgfat-«rrsiit who best 
tmitatea lum «ill be most certain of arriving at pre-eminenee in 
ohÍTalT7. And an occasion upon which the knight particnlBrl? dis- 
played his pnidenee, worth, connoe, palience, constancy, and lore, 
was his retiring, when disdnined bj tlie lady Oriana, to do penance 
on the sterile rock, changing his name to that of Bellenebros — a name 
most oertanily aignilicant and proper for the Hfe he had voicintarüy 
chosen. Now it ia easier for me to imitate him in tliis than in cleav- 
ing giants, beheadinf serpents, slaving dragons, routing; armies, shal- 
tMing ficets, and dissolving enchantments ; and, since this place is so 
well adapted for the parpóse, I ought not to ne^ect the opportnoity 
which is now so coumodioiisly offered tc — " 

" What is it Tonr worship really intend 

thtsP" demanded Sancho, "Have I no 

Quiiote, " that I design to imitate Amadis, acting here the desperate, 
raving, and fnrions lover; at the same time folluwiiur the euuniile of 
the TBliant Dun Orlando, when he found bj the side of a fountain 
some indications that Antiebca the Fair had diahononred herself with 
Medoro ; at grief whereof he ran mad, tore up trees by the roots, dis- 
turbed the waters of the crystal spnags, slew shepherds, destroyed 
flocks, fired cottages, demouahed bouses, dragged mares alon^ the 
ground, and committed a hundred thousand other eitiavs^ces, 
worthy of eternal record. And althougbit is not my desiento imitate 
Eoldan, or (Jrlando, or Kntolando (tor be is called by all these names), 
in every point and in all his frantic actions, words, and thonghts, yet 
I will gire as good a sketch as I can of those which 1 deem most 
essential. Or I may, perhaps, i>e content to imitate only Amadis, 
«ho, without oommittmg any mischievous excesses, by tears and 
lamentations alone attained as much fame as all of them." " It seems 
to me," quoth Sancho, "that the knights who acted in .such manner 
were provoked to it, and had a reason for these follies and penances ; 
bnt pray what cause has your worship to run mad ? What lady has 
disdained you P or what tokens hare you discovered to convince you 
that the lady Dulcinea del Toboso has committed folly either with 
Moor or Christian P" "There bes the point," answered Don Quixote, 
"and in this consists the refinement of my plan, A knight-errant 
who runs mad with jnst cause deserves no thanks ; but to do so with- 
oat teoaon is the point; giving my hidy to understand what 1 should 
perform in the wet if I do this in the dry. Besides, I hare cause 
enough giren me by so hmg an absence from my erer-hononred lady 
Dulcinea del Toboso ; for as thou heardst that shepherd, Ambrosio, 
say, 'The absent feel and fear every ill.' Therefore, friend Sancho. 
oounsel me not to refrain from so rare, so happy, Mid so unparalleled 
an imitation. Mad I am, and mad I must be until thyretum with an 
answer to a letter I mternd to send by thee to mv lady Dulcinea ; and 
if it proves such as my fidelity deserres, mv madness and my penance 
will terminate. But if the contrary, I shall be mad indeed; and, 
being so. eball become insensible to everythin»; so that whaterer 
answer she returns, I sb^be relieved of the conflict and pain wherein 
thou leavest me ; for if good, 1 shall enjoy it in m^ right senses : if 
otherwise, I shall be mad, and consequently insensible of my 

" But, tell me, Sancho, hast thon taken care of Mambrino's hdmet f 
lor I WW thee take it from the ground, when that ungrateful wretdi 

Uigniaüb, Google 


IHX KXieHT'l TOW. Lfl 

prared tie exeelkaiee of Hs qnality, hj vaiiilr endesrouríng to break 
it to pieces." TovhiohSaBdioaiiswend: As Qod liTeth, sir kiiight 
t)t the sMTOwfol figure, I oaonot bear «ith patience aooie thio^n tout 
«OTsliip BBjB : they are euoogh to m&ke me think that all you lell me 
of chiTslrj-. and of wiuniug kingdams and empiiea, of beatowii^ 
iilaads, and doing othor faTOois and nughtj things, according to tbé 
onstom of knigbtg^rrant, nnist be matter of mere siuokc, and all 
friction or ¿ction, or how do you call it F For, to heai you my tbat a 
barber'a baain ia Mambrino'B helmet, and to pervist in that error for 
near about fonr days, what can one think, bnt that he vrho saya and 
affiims such a thine, mast he crack-brained ? I have the basin in my 
wallet, all buttered : and I shall take it home to get it mended, for 
the use of my beard, if Hearen be so gracious as to restore mo one 
time or other to mv wife and children." " Now I swear by the same 
oath," said Don Qniiote, " that tbon hast the shallowest brain that 
any squire has. or ever had, in the world. Is it possible that, not- 
withstanding all the time thon hast travelled with me, thou dost not 
perceive that all a&ira in wbicb knighls^mnt are concerned appear 
«¿umerae, follies, and extravagances, aod seem all done by the rnle of 
contraries ? Kot that they are in reality so, bnt because there is a 
crew of eoohanten always about ns, who metamorphose and disguise 
all our concenia, and torn them ■ccording to their own pleasure, or 
according as they are inclined to favour or rain us. Hence it is that 
the thing whicli to thee appean a barber's basin, appears to me the 
helmet oT Mambrino, snd to another wiU appear something else ; and 
it was a «ingolar foresight of the sage, make that appear 
to others a basin wmch really and tridy is Mambrino's helmet ; 
because, being of anch high value, aH the world would persecute me 
in (odcr to obtain it ; but now, thinking it nothing but a barber'a 
basin, they give themselves no trouble aboot it, as was evident in him 
who^ after endeavouring to break it, cast it from him ; which, in faith, 
he would never had done had he known what it was. Take care cs 

mountain, wLich stood separated {ram several others that surmnnded 
it, as if it had been hewn out from them. Kear its base ran a gentle 
Stream, that watered a verdant and iuiuriant vale, adorned with manjr 
wide^preadioR trees, olants, and wild flowers of various hues. iW 
was the spot in which the knigjit (á the sorrowful figure chose to 
perform his penance ; and, while contmnplajing the scene, he thus 
broke forth in a loud voice : " This is the place, Ü ye heavens I which 
I seleot and appoint for bewailing the misfortune in which ye have 
involved me. This is the spot where my flowing tears shall merease 
the waters of this crystal stream, and my sighs, continnal and deep, 
shall inoeasantlv more the foliage of these lofty treces, in testimony 
and token of the pain mj perseeoted heart endures. ye rural 
deities, whoever ye be, that mhabit theae remote deserts, give ear to 
the complaints of an unhappy lover, whom lon;^ absence and some 
pangs of jealousy have driven to bewail Imnself among these rugged 
heights, and to complnin of the cruelty of that ungrateful fair, the 

129 jxa ^nizoTx. 

of the moant^ grxwea (so mij the nimble and laKOrioitt satyra, by 
wkom yt are wooed in Tain, aever disturb yoor vweet repoae), Msist 
me to ument my bard fate, or at least be not weary of heumg mf 
graai)3 ! O my Dulcinea del Toboso, light of my darknees, glory 
of my pain, the north-star of my traTels, and over-miing plmet of 
my fortune (so may Heaven listen to all thy petitions), couñder, I 
bráeech thee, to what a condition thy absen<« hath reduced me, and 
rewaid me a> mr fidelity deaerres ! ye solitary trees, who hew»- 
forth are to be tae oompauions of my retirement wave gently yoor 
braocbet, to indicate that my preseoee does not offend yoa 1 Anil, 
^ou my sqnire, agreeable oompanion in my prosperous and adverse 
fortune, cwefolly imprint on thy memory what thou shalt see me here 
perform, that then mayest recount and recite it to her who is the sole 
cause (» ^ ! " Thus saying, he alighted from Bozimnte, and in an 
instant took oft his bridle and saddle, and, clappbg him on the hindo* 
parts, said to him: "O steed, ae excellent tor thy performance as 
unfortonate in thy bte I he gives thee liberty who is himself deprived 
of it. Go whither then wilt ; for than hast it written on thy forehead 
that neither Astolpbo's Hippcwriif, nor the famous Fnmtino, which 
cost Bradamante so dear, could match thee in speed." 

Sancho, obeerving all this, said, " Heaven's peace be with hhn who 
Mved us the tronble of nnhamedsing Daptde ; for in faitii he should 
have wanted neither slaps nor speeches in his praise. Yet if he were 
here, I woold not consent to his being unpannelled, there being no 
occasion for it, for he had nothing to do with love or despair, anr 
more than I,^ who was oni^e his master, when it so pleased Qoa. 
And traty, sur knight of the sorrowful %are, if it be so, that my 
departure and your madness take place in earnest, it will be well la 
saddle Roiinfuite again^ that he may supply the losa of my Dapple, 
and save me time in going and coming ¡ forif I walk, I know not now 
I ¿all be able either to go or retnm, being in truth but a Bony 
traveller on foot." " fie that as thou wilt," answered Don Quixote, 
"for I do not disapprove thy proposal ; and 1 say thou shalt depait 
within three days, during whicn tuns 1 intend thee to bear wiCnesi of 
what I do say for her, that thou mayest report it accordindy." 
"What have I more to see," quoth Sancho, "than what 1 have 
already seenf" "So far, ibon art well prepared," answered Don 
Quixote ; " but I have now to rend my garments, scatter my arms 
about, and dash my head against these rocks ; with other things of the 
like sort, which will strike thee with admiration." " For the lore of 
Beaven, said Sancho, " beware how you give yourself those blows, 
for yon may chance to touch npon some nnlncky point of a rock, that 
may at once put an end to this new project of penance : and I should 
think, since your worship is of opinion that knocks ot the head are 
necessary, and that this work cannot be done without them, yoa 
might content youraelf, since all is a fiction, a connterfeit. and a sham, 
—I s^r, you mi^t content younelf with running your head against 
water, or mue soft thing, such as cotton ; and leave it to me to tell 
my lady that yoa dashed your head against tJie point of a rock, harder- 
than a diamond." " 1 thank thee for thy good inlentioos, &irad 
Sancho," answered Don Quixote ; " but 1 would have tliee to know, 
that all these actions of mme are no mockery, but done very mnt^ in 
«arneat ; for to act otherwise would be an infraction of the rules of 
diivalir, which eoioou na to ntter oo falsehood, <n pais of being 
,, .A.OOgIC 

pnnided m upogUtte ; ud the doing one Üaog toe uioUier ü tlio 
Mune mljing: tbnefore, bk)w> most m red and snbstaotial, vithoat 
artifice or eraácm. Hotrever, it will be aecettarj to leare me loBie 
Hot for mr wanndi, dnee it vu the will of fartane tkat we should 
loM the balMm." "It wu wane to laMUieaas,"MUweTed Sancho; 
"for with bim wo lost lint and eTerrthing elfe. Audi beseedi yonr 
woniiipnat to jmt me inmindof tiiat enned dreneh ; for at barely 
kewÍBK it mei^ioDed, my ^ay soul, aa well aa mj Uomach, is tamea 
inaide ont. Aa for the thne days allowed m« for leeing Ttnr ami 
pranka, I beeeeoh jtoa to reckon tbem as already paiaed, for I take *Ji 
lor fiuUed, ana will tell wondera to my kdy. Do yon write Üie 
btter aod (UMtoh me qniokly, for I lonf; to come ba^ and lelease 
yoor wonhip from thupamtoiT, in iriuch I leare jou." " Ponta- 

torr, doat thoa call it, Suoho!''said Don Quixote. "Call it rather 
kcU, oc wroae, if anythini? can be wone." " 1 hare heard aay," anoth 
Bancl^ " ' from hell thoe is do retentioo.' " "I know not, said 
Don Qohot^ "what retention means." " Batention," answered 
SoBoho, "means that he whoisoneoin twUnerndoes, norerercan, 
pet oat again. Bat it will be anile the rercne with yonr wonhip, at 
it shall go hard with my heels, ill have but spara to enliven Hoiioante. 
Let me but once set to Toboso, and into the preeenoe of my Isdy 
DidaÍMa,widI will tell her taoh a story ttf the fboU^ mad things ^fot 
tbey are all no bet(«r) which your wonhip haadme and is still dornp, 
that I shall brino' her to be is supple «s a ^re, thongh I Snd her 
hsvderthanaaon-tree; and with ber answer, all sweetness and bone^, 
will I retnm throng the ait, like a witch, ntd fetch Tonr worship 
mt of thia pntRstoty, which^ though it seems so, is no hell, becanae, 
M I said, jvor woniup nay Mpe to get out of it." 

" That is tnw," answered the knight of tiio sorrowful figuro — 
" bnt how ihall we oonliiTe to write toe letter P" " And the ua-oott 
Inlir" added Sanclio. "Nothing shall be onullcd," said Don 
QoHote; "andaiaoB we hsre no paper, ve shall do well to write it 
■a the ancients did, on the leaves of trees, or on tablets of wa.T ; 
tikon^ it will be aa difienlt at present to meet with titese as with 
pi^M». Bn^ BOW I nooUeet, it may be aa wdl, or indeed bettca-, to 
wnte it in CMrdenio's pooket-book, and yaa will take can to get it 

!, any psri^-clerk will tran- 
•oribe it for yon : but be sore yon give it to no hackney-writer of the 
law- for the devilhimself will never be able toread their confounded 
kw-taad." "Bnt what moat we do about the sJiiiing it wilh yonr 
own kand f " said Sancho. " The letters of Amadis were nerer snb- 
seribed," answered Don Quixote. "Very well," replied Sancho; 
" hot the order for the colts must needs he signed by yourself ; for if 
tiiat be et^iied liiey will say it is a fiJse signature, and I shall be 
forced to go withont the coltn," " The order shall be si^cd in the 
same pooket-faook ¡ and at sight of it my niece wiU make no dif&cnlty 
in ocmp^ing with it. As to the loreJetter, let it be subscribed thns, 
'Totm.mitil death, the Kniahtof the Sorrowful Figure.' And it is of 
little importanoe wnether it oe written in another hand ; for 1 remem- 
ber, Dnldtwa oui neither write n/x rtad, nor has she ever seen a 
letter or writing of mine in her whole life ; for oor loves have always 
beoi of the Plutonio kind, eitendmg no farther than to modest glances 
•teadi other ; and «ran those so very tanly that loan truly swear 

that, during Üie iwdra tmjs Üsat I hiTe loved bcr men than tke 
light of these eires, whicL Iheearthmiut one d^r consume, Ihavenot 
seen her four times ; and perhaps of these four times she may not 
have once perceived that I looked upon her — soch is the r^rve Kod 
seclusion in wliich she is brought up h 
and her motiier, Aldonia Kogales!" 

"Uer da;!" quoth Ssocha " vhat, the daushter of IxHvnso Cor- 
chuelo ! Jj she the lad; Bukioea del Toboso, otlierwiae called 
Aldooza Lorenzo?" "It iseveashe," said Don Quixote, " aod she 
desen'es to be mistress of the univeise." " I know her welL" ouott 
Sancho } "and I can assure jou she will pitch the bar with tbe lusti- 
est swain in tbe parish, I^ng live the giver ! why, she is a kse i^ 
mettle, tall, straight, and vigorous, and I warrant ceu make her part 

CI with any knight-errant tbat shall have her for a mistress. O, 
jade, what a pair of luni^ and a voice she has I I remmiber she 
got out one day upou the bell-tower of the church, to call some foung 
ploughmen who were in a iieid oí her fathei^sj and though they were 
naif a lea^G off, the; heard her as plainly as if they haa stood at the 
foot of the tower ; and the bett of her is, that slie is not at all coy, but 
a« bold as a court lady, and makes a jest aud a maygame of ererybodv. 
I say, then, sir kni^-ht of the sorrowful figure, that you not ooly 
mav, Bod ought to run mad for her, but also yon m»y lustly despair 
and hanff yourself; uid nobody that hears it but will s^ voudid 
extremely well, though the devil should carry you away. I would 
fain begone, if it ia <mly to see her; for I have not seen her this mapjr 
a dav, aud by this lime she must needs be altered ; for it mightily 
spoils women's faces to be always abroad in the field, exposed to tbe 
sun and weather. 1 confess to your worship, Siguor Don Quiiobe, 
that hitherto I have been hugely mistaken, for 1 thought for certain 
that the lady Dulcinea was some great princMS, with whom yoa 
were in love, or at least some person of such great uuality as to 
deserve the nob presents yon have sent h^r, as well of the liisetuner 
asof the galley-slaves ¡ and many others from the vioUiries your wor- 
ship must have gained before I came to be your squire. But, all 
things considered, what »x>d can it do the lady Aldonsa Ixureozo — I 
mean the lady Dulcinea del Toboso— to have the vanquished whom 

Eur worship sends, or nuvy semi, falling upon their knees before her P 
If perhaps at the time they arrive she mav be carding Uai, or thresh- 
ing m the Dam, and they may be confounded at th<' sight of her, and 
she may lasgh and care ¡ittle for the present." " I have often told 
thee, Sancho," said Dc" " ' '" "" ' ''^ " "' " ' ^ -^ ' >' 
au4 though void of wi 
thee at once of thy f 

^ " Know, then, that a certain widow, handsome, young, gay, and 
rich, and withal no prude,fell in lovewiih aW-brüther, young, well- 
made, and vigorous. His superior heard of it, and one day took 
occasion to speak to the Kood widow, in the way of brotherly repre- 
hension. ' I wonder, madam,' said he, ' and not without great reason, 
that a woman of your quality, so beautiful, and so rich, should fall in 
love with such a deepicable, mean, silly fellow, when there are, in this 
house, so many graduates, diguitoricB, and divines, among whom you 
might pick and choose, and say this I like and this I leave, aa you 
would among pears.' Jiut ahie aoawered him great frankness «ud 

THE KinOET mms t 

Kuetj: 'Tonaj 

very KntiimBt«d 

fellow, Billf IB he maff Bp[)e)u', srace, for oufchC tbat 1 desire of Min| 
he koovs ts mach of iihilosophj' as Aristotle Mmself, if not more. 
In like mamier, Sanono, Bulcmot del Toboso, for the purpose I 
intetid her, deserres as highW lo the greatest princess on eiirth. For 
of thoM poeta who have celeWted the praises of kdies under fictiti- 
ous namea, nao; hod do soch mistresses. ThinJcest thoa that the 
Amarythses, the Phfilises, the ^vias, the Dianas, the Calateas, the 
Alidas, and the like, famous in books, ballads, barbers' shops, and 
»ti^-lda¡ra, were reaUr ladies of flesh and blood, and bekived by those 
who have (¿lebtated tiiem f Certainly not : thev are mostlv feipneA 
to supt^r Bnbjoots for Tenc, and to make the authors pass for meti oi 
gaJiantry. It is, therefot«, auSctent that 1 think and believe that the 
^ood Aldonia Lorenzo ia beautiful and chaste ; and as lo her lineage 
it matters not ; for no inquiry concerning it is requisite ; and to me 
it isunneceMBiT, aslre«ardheras the greatest prmcees in the world. 
Pot thoo must know. Sancho, if thon knowest it not already, that two 
things, above all otners, incite to love, nameiy, beauty and a good 
name. Now both theae are to be found in perfection in Dulcinea; 
fi»' in beauty none can be compared to her, and for purity of reputa- 
tion few (»n equal her. In ñne, I ocHiceiTe she is exactly what I have 
deaonhed, aod everythinK that I can desire, both as to heaoty and 
qnaUty, unequalled by Helen, or by Lucratia, or any other of the 
liunoua women of antiquity, whether Grecian, Roman, or Goth ; and 
I care not what be said ; since, if, npon this accoont, I roa bUnied 
l^ the ignorant, I shall be acquitted by the wise." "Your worship," 
rallied Sandio, "is always in the rifht, and I am an ass — why do I 
mention an ass f — one should not talk oí halteta in t^ honse of the 
htn^ed. But I am off— five me the letter, air, and God be with 

with n , „ - , „ „ 

called Saiudio, and said he woaldreadit tonim, that be mieht 
it by heart, lest he might perchance lose it by the way : lor every- 
thing WM ta be feared from his evil destiny. To which Sancho 
anawned : " Write it, sir, two or three times in the book, and give it 
roe, and I will take good care of it : but to suppose that 1 can carry 
it in my memory, is a folly : for mine is so bad that I often foreet n^ 
own name. Your worship, however, may read it to me ; I shall be 
glad lo bear it, for it must needs be very much to the purpose." 
listen, then," said Bon Qoixote, "this is what X have written: — 

" Don Quixoie't tetter to Dulcinea del Toboio. 

" Hitch and sovereign lad;, 
" He who is stabbed by the pcónt of absenoe, and pierced br 
the (ROWS of love, sweetest Dolcmea del Toboso, greets thee witn 
wisfaea fcur that health which he eqjoys not himself. If thv beauty 
demise me, if thy worth favour mo nc^, and if thy disdain still pursue 
roe, atthoDgh inm^ to gnfering I shall ill support an affliction which 
is not only severe hat lasting. My good sqoire Sancho will tell thee. 
O nngrateful fair, and most beloved foe, to what a state I am reduoea 
on tl9 aocouBt If it be tby pleaaare to relieve me^ I am thine; if 
,, .A.OOgIC 

ISO Bov qnxon. 

not, do irh&t Monetli good to tlwe : for br my death I sball at once 
qtpcAse ttkf cnidt; and mj own passion.— Until death tiiioe, 

" Th2 Kmishi or THE SoRBOiTFnL Fievsi." 

"Bf the life of mj father," qnotli Sancbo, añer heuingr the 1ott«T, 
"it is the finest thing I ever beard. Odds boddikins I how choicely 
yourworship fopreaaes whatever youplease ! and bow well yon dose 
all with ' the lassbt of the sorrowful Sfure ! ' Veritr, jonr worship 
is the devil hiniseu-~Ume is notiiing but what yon enow." "The 
profession which I have embmoed," answeied Don Qoixote, " requires 

,,___^i_j___, -^ í."^Tr(il,then,"MÍd8ft' ' " 

der fOT tha tin , 

lat fint^si^.'^' 

la follows: — ' 

"Dear niece— At sirfit of thismjflnt bill of «swwltt, pro order 
that three ont of the five I left at home in jonr enstod;, be delivovd 
to Sancho Panza, my sqaire: which three cohs 1 ordertóbeddivered 
and paid for the like Domber received of him here in tale ; and thi^ 
with his aoqnittanoe, shall be your diadiarn. Draw in tiie heart 
<rf the Siem Msren^ the twcnty-seowd <H ixgott, tíos loesent 

"It B mighty well," süd Sanolio; now nm have only to sign it." 
" It wants no siening," said Don Quicate: *' I need only pnt mv cypher 
to it, which is the same thing, ana is sufficient not only for tbree but 
hr three hundred asses." " 1 rely upon yonr worship," asgwenid 
Sancho ; " let nie go and saddle Rontumte, and prepare to give me 
your blessing, for lintend to depart immediately, without itaying to 
see the mad frolics you are about to commit ; and I will tell quite 
enough to satisfy her." " At least Sancho," said Don Quixote, "I 
wish, nay, it is necessary, audi will have thee see me naked, and per- 
form a dozen or two fnuitic actions ; for I shall dispatch them in lest 
than half an hour : and having seen these with thine own ene, thou 
mayest safely swear to those thon shalt add; for be assured Ihon wilt 

— .__!_. T. •..._.. J, _ . ¡ffopin» "For the love of Heaven, 

i not see jour worshin naked ; for 
. , , lahallnof be able to lorbeor weep- 

ing : and my head is 90 bad, after the tears I shed last uij^t for the 
loss of poor Dapple, that I am in no condition at present to begin new 
lamentations. So, if yoor worship will have me an eye-witneae to taj 
of your antics, pray do them clothed, and with all speed, aud let them 
be such as will stúul you in most stead : though, indce4 there is no 
need of Uiem— as I said before, it is only deiavmg my return, with 
the news your worship) so much desires and aeservea. So let tíie 
lady Dulcinea look to it ; for if she does not answer as she ^uld do, 
I solemnly protest I will fetch it out of her stomach by dint of kicks 
and bnfFeta— for it is a ehame that so famous a knight^mnt as your 

worship shouhi run mad, without why or wherefore, for a : let 

not madam proT<^e me to speak out ; or, before Heaven, I shall blab, 
and out with all by whoTceale, though it spoil the market. I am 
pretty good at tliis sport ; she does not know me ¡ if she did, in failfa, 
we should be (i one loind." " In trath, ijonoho," said Don Qoixoi^ 
, , . .A.OOgIC 


"to all appeannoe tim art mad ai inyBeU." "Not so," answered 
Sandio, onlr a little more cfaoleric Bn^ aetting that aaide, what 
has jciir worsh^ to est mtil mr leUaa F Are ;ou to go npon the 
faiffhwaj, to rob the shepherds, likeCardenioF" "Trouble not thj- 
scJf about that/' answered Dcm Qaixot« : " for were I otherwise pio- 
Tided, I ahoula «at notbins but the kerbs and Cmita which here «row 
wild : for abatineDce and other ansteritie» aro euential in this a&ir." 
"Now I Uiink of <á, sir," said Sancho, " how shall I be able to find 
mywar bnok a^ain to this bye^laoef" " Obserre utd mark well 
the root, and I will andeavonr to reniaiii near it ;" said Don Quixote -, 
"ana will, moreoTer, asoend some of the hig:hest rid^ to diaoorer 
thee npon thr retum. Bnt the snrest way not to miss roe, or lose 
tbjveli, will be to cot down aotne of the bmoiu that abonnda here, 
Bul aoattei it here and there, on the way to the plain, to serve as 
mailu and tokena to niide thée on thy retnni, in imitation of 'nteaens' 

olae to the labyrinth. 

Saacio Panra foUoi , 

with branches, he be{n[ed hia maater'a bleasinj 

Sidkc^ Faoza followed this ocnnsel ; and harins prorided himself 

'''' '' ' he be{n[ed hia maater'a bleaainK, ukd, not withoot 

both Slam, todc hia lettre of him ; and mounting 

np<ui Bodnante, with eai«cial obai^ from Don Quixote to ret. _ 
hnn as he wooU bia own ^oper perwn, be rode towards the plain, 
■Aewing the bovgfas at interrals, as his master directed him. Thus 

he deputed, although Don Qiuxote atill importuned him to stn 
and see him perform if it were bat a oonple of his nmbols. He bad 
net gone abore a hondred paoee when he turned back and «aid: 

" Your worship, sir, aaid right that, to enable me to swear with añie 
oousoiratee, it woold be propn I should at least see one of yonr mad 
tricks i though, in plain tnith, I hare seen enough in seeing you. 
stay here." Did 1 not tell oieosof" quoth Don Quiiote: ^' stay 
bat a moment, Sancho — I will dispatch them as qnicUya* yqu<cui 
mj a Credo." ^en stripping off his clothes in all haste, without 
more ado he out a couple oi oapers in the air, and a) man^ tmnbles 
heels over bead. SaniAo tuned Bocinante about, folly satisfied that 
he might swear his master was stark mad : we wiL therefore leaire 
himpnnoitighia journey until hia tetum, which was speedy. 


his gambda, half-naked, and perceiTing tiiat Suicho waa gone, with- 
out oariuf^ (o be witness of any mon m his pranks, he mounted the 
^of a high rock, and there b^can to delibente on a subject that be 
often considered before, without ooming to any resolution ; and 
that was which of the two was the best and moat proper model for 
his iroitatJon, Orlando in his fnriraiB fits, or ¿madis in his melancholy 
moods : and thus he argned with himself :^If Orlando was as good 
and valimt a knight a* £e ia umTereally allowed to have been, where 


is the wonder P siiice, m fact, he ma endumted, and coiil^ (uilr be 
slain 1)y liaviog a needle thnist into the sole of nis foot ; nod there- 
fore he alwavs wore shoes with seven soles afiroa. Thiseontrívance, 
however, availed him nothing against Bernardo del Carpió, who 
knew the secret, and pressed híni to death between Lis arms in Son- 
cestallea. But setting aside his valour, let us oonsidei his madneM, 
which was certainly occasioned by the discovery he made at the tonn- 
tftin, and by the intelligence given him by the snepberd that Angebca 
had proved faitlilesa with Modoro, a liUle curl-pated Moor, page to 
A^^ramante. And if be knew this, and was convinced of his lady's 
inttdelity, it was no wonder that he ran mad. But hon can I imitate 
him in his phrenzy, nithont a similar cause F My Dulcinea del 
Toboso, 1 dare swear, never in all her life beheld a ml and acknow- 
ledged iMoor, and Ibat she is this diny as the molbei' that bore her: 
and I sbould do her a inanifest wrong if, suspectinR otberwiae, I 
should be seized with the same species of phrenn as toat of Orlando 
Furioso. On the other side I see that Amsdis de Oaul, withont losing 
his senses, or bavioe any raving fits, aoquired a reputation equally him 
as a lover, smoe, finding himself disdained by the lady Uriana, who 
commanded him not to appear in her presence until it was her plea- 
sure, he only retired to the sterile rock, aooompanied bj; a hramit, 
and there wept abundantly until Heaven suocoured him in his 
great tribulation. Now this being the case, why should I take the 
pains to strip myself naked, or molest these trees that never did me 
narm? Or wherefore should I disturb the water of these orystal 
streams, which are to furnish me with drink wben I want it F All 
honour, then, to the memory of Amadis ! and let him be the model of 
Don Quixote de la Maoeba, of whom shall be said, what was said of 
aaoüier, that, if he did not adtieve great things, be at least died in 
attempting Ihem ; ud tJtoufA neither iñeoted nor disdained by my 
Xhilciuea, it is sufficieat that lam abseotnom her. Now then to the 
work. Come to mgr memory, ye deeds of Amadis, and instmd: me 
where to begin the task of imitation ! It now occurs to me Üat he 
prayed mucn— that will I also do." Whereupon he strung some 
large galla of a coHt-tree, which sored him for a rosary ; but be 
regretted eiceediiiglvthat therewasno hermit to hear his confession, 
and administer consolation to him. He thus passed the time,walkji^ 
about, and writing, and graving on the barks of trees, or tracing 
in Ihe fine sand, many verses of a plaintive kind, or in praise oi 
his Dulcinea. AJuongat those discovered afi^rwaras, only the fol- 
lowing were entire and legible : — 

Te lofty txttm, with tpttMung ams. 

The ptida and shelter of the plain ; 
Ve humbler ahruta ud flov'ry ohuM, 

Whiuh here in apringicg glory niga 1 
It my oiinplainU may pity move. 

Wliila *rilii me here you pa» yonrliour^ 
" raid you grow fiided wita my carca, 
'II bribe you iritb reñvshíug &bovers ; 

Too shiLlI be wittered with , 

■ ^ pment in Idea, 


Lore's tnuat abre, dcapairíng, choce 
Tilia loDoly hUiI, tbis down pluiu. 

Which he, thuiigh guiltlesa most soatún. 
Unknowing why thoau paini he boan^, 
He eroaog. he raves, and he disjHiln, 

With Img'ñiig Area bro rocks my aonl : 
In Tain 1 grieve, in vain Inmeat ; 

Like tortur'd fiends J weep, I howl. 
And burn, yet never son repent. 

Disbuit, thou)^ pTDscaCi m idea, 

1 moum mj obseat Dulaioea 

While T thrao^ honcmr's thorny ways. 

In aenreh ofdiBtBat ^lor? rove. 
Malignant ftkte my toil ropay* 

With endleiB wosa and bopelan love. 
Thus 1 on Ijarrea roclu dexpnir, 
And cursa my stars, yat hlosa my fiür. 

Lace, orni'd with snakeB, has left lia HMtf 
And DOW docs like a fary ravo ; 

And 9CourL-o and sting on every port. 
And into mndness lash his alaTs. 

Distant, thonffh preseat in idea. 

The vMiDUQal addition at the eod of each staoia oooasioned no 
■mall kmnsein^ to those who found the veraea ; for thej' ooncladed 
tlut i>oa Quixote hod thaugbt that, noLess to the nune of " Dul- 
cinea " be added " Del Tolx»o." the object of his praise would not 
be known — and they were rii;nt, as he aftenrarda oonfesBed. He 
wrote niaoy others, bat only these three stanzas oonld be clevlr 
nude out. In such tender and melancholy oecapations, sigbing, or 
iityokiiig the ^Ivon ddties, the nymphs of the mountain Btreains, 
and the mouiof ul echo, to listen and auswor to his moan, he pMsrd tiie 
titDe: and aometimes lu gallierias herba to suttoin himself until 
Sancho's return ; «ho, if he had tarried three weeks instead of three 
days, "the knight of the sorrowful figure" would have been so 
disGgured that he would not haye been leoognJsed by his own 
mother. Here, liowevcr, it will be proper to leave him^ wrapped up 
in Doetrf and griet to relate what liappcned to the squire during bw 

As soon as Sancho hod gained the high-road, he directed his conrse 
inunedJately to Toboso, and the next day he came within sight of the 
inn where the misfortune of the blanket had befallen him, and, fancj- 
ine himself again flyin? in the air ho felt, no disposition to enter it, 
alihoogb it was then the hour of dmner, and he longed for something 
warm— «11 having been coid-treot with bim for many days past. This 
inclination, nev^heless drew lilm forcibly towards the inn ; and, as 
he stood doubtful whether or not to enter, two persons came out 
who immediately recognised him. "Pray, signor licentiate," said 
one to the other, " b not that Sancho Panza yonder on horseback, 
«ho, as our friend's housekeeper told us, accompanied her master as 
hissqnireP" "Trulj;¡tÍ3," said the licentiate ; 'ondthatis onrDon 
Quixote's horse." SSo woodcr they knew him so well, foi they wera 



the priest ana barber of liis Tillage, and the VCTypersons who had tried 
and passed sentence of execution on the mischievous books. Being now 
certain it was Saucbo Panza and Eoidiiante, and hoping to hear some 
tidings of Don Quixote, the priest went up to him. and^ calling him 
by bis name, " Friend bancho Panza," said he, " wfiete liave you left 
r master*" Sancho immediately knew tlicm.and resohcd to conceal 

circumstances aud place ot Don Qoisotc's retreat ; he therefore 

told them that his master was very busy in a certain jArxe, abont a 

certain aiFair of the greatest importance to himself, wnich he durst 

not discover for the eyes in his head. " No, no, Sancho," quotli the 

barber, " that story will not pass. If you do not tell us where he 

¡a, we shall conclude, as we suspect already, that yon ha\^ murdered 

and nibbed him, since you come thus apon his horse. See, then, 

that you produce the owner of that horse, or woe be to you!" 

" There is no reason why you should threaten me," quoth Bancho ; 

" for 1 am not a man to rob or murder anybody. Let erery man's 

fate kill him, or God who made liim. My master is doini; a certain 

.^^.■^^ ™,.~i. *« w;^ Li.;„™ in tt,p midst of yon mounlaina." He 

ilation, rehitcd to them in what state 

that had befallen tiiem, and how he 

the ladv Dulcinea del Toboso-the 

with whom his master was up to the 

; Sancbo'a report ; and, thou^ they 
a QuÍT.ote's derangcmeat, yet every 
m a new source of wonder. They 
them the letter he was carrying to 
He said it was written in a poeket- 
'dered him to get it copied out apon 
Id arrive it. The priest said, it he 
transcribe it ro a »ery fair character, 
his bosom to take out the book, but 
: found it had he searelied until this 
Qciiote, who had forgntten to (rive it 
e had no book, he turned as pale as 
oyer his body in (jreat perturbation, 
his beard with both handa, and tore 
himself sundry cuffs on the nose and 
I. The priest and barber aeeinsthis, 
himself so ronghly. " Wherefore f 
lare let slip through my fingers three 
" "How so?" replied the barber. 
' answered Sancho, " that contanied 
11 silked by my master, in which he 
me three colts out of four or five he 
mention his losa of Dapple ; but the 
T, telling him that, when he saw his 
lo renew the order upon paper in a 
n IKicket'book would not be accepted, 
assurance, and said that he did not 
Doleinen, aa he could almost say it by 
heart ; ao that they mi?ht write it down, where and when they 
pleased. "Repeat it-, then, Sancho." quoth the huber "and wo 
will write it afterwai-ds." Sancho then began to scratck hia hcbl, 


■qniBB SAVCHO. 131 

border to fetdtiheletter to hisiemembntnoc; noTrheiiloodnpODOne 
tocA, and llicn upon the oUier; sometimes lie looked down upon the 
ground, snd «omelimea up to tlie aky: then, ufler biting off half n 
luil of one finger, and keeping his hearera Ion? in exncctation, he 
Mid: "The devü take all I remember of the lettCT; though at the 
bíwniúnB I believe it said, ' High and eubterrane lady.' " " No," 
said Iheljarber, "not subterrane, but sunerlmmane, or sovereig» 
Lidj." " Aye, so it was," said Sancho. " Tlien, if I do nut mistake, 
it went oil, Ifae stabbed, and Üie waking, and the pierced, kixsea 
jour honour's hands, unn«teful and most regardless fair;' and 
then it said I know not what of ' healUi and sickness that he sent ¡' 
it on, until at hist he ended with ' thine till deitb, the 

.- jorcowful fijjure.' " 

e boti not a little diverted at Saoeho's eiceDnnt memorj, 
aoa commended it mndi, desiring him to repeat the letter tvice mote, 
tiui they also might get it bf heart, in wdec to wril« it down in due 
time. Thrice Sancho repeated it, and thrice he added three thousand 
otlter extravagances : relating to them also many other Ihinzs coa- 
cenÚDK lib master, but nut a word of the bhnket. He informed 
tbün likewise how bis lord, upon his return witli a kind despatch 
from his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, was to aet about endeaTOuring to 
become aii emperor^, or at least a king (for ao it was couccrtea'^be- 
twecD them)— a thing that would be very easily done, considering 
tiie valour and strength of bis ma; and when this w 

¡^hed. his master was to marry him fas by thut time he sliouhl, 
BO doubt, be a widower), and give him to wife one of the empress's 
natda of honour, heiress to a large and rich territory on the main- 

muf. for, as to islands, iie was quite_out of conceit with them. 
Sanclio said all this with so much gravity, ever and anon wiping 
bis nose, that the/ were anuwed at the poteney of Don Quixote's 
malady, which bad borne along with it tlie senses also of thisjwor 

ÍbUo*. Tliey would not themselves the trouble to convince him of 
lis fcJlj, as it was of a harmless nature, and afforded them amuse- 
ment; they therefore told him be abould pray tor Lis lord's health, 
«nee it was very possible and very practicable for him in process of 
tinte t« become an emperor, as he said, or at least an arahbishop. or 
•amethinK else of equal dignity. To which Saacho answered, " Gen- 
Ikmen, iffartuoB should so oraerit that mymastcrshould take it into 
his head not to be an emperor, but an archbishop, I would fain know 
«hat arohbishops-errani usually give to their squiresf" "They 
oiuaUy^ve them," answered the priest, "aome benefice or core, or 
v^ershipv which brbgs them in a good penoy-renti besides the 
" '' 8 of the altar, usually valueo. at as much more," " '"— 

tins it will be oeccssióy," replied Sancho, " that the squire be 
aamarried, and that he know, at least the responses to the ma^ 
•ud if so, woe is mu 1 for I am married, and do not know my ABC. 
"What TiU become of me, if my master should hare a mind lo be an 
.ftrohUi^iop, and not an emperor, like other knights-crraiit t" " Bo 
Bot uneasy, friend Sancho, said the barber, " lor we will admonish 
andtntiat your master, even to make it a ease of conscience, to 
bceoipe an emperor and not an archbisbop ;— indeed, it will suit him 
better, aa hA is more of a soldier than a scbolar." " So I think," 
■nsv^ed Sancdio, " though 1 can a£rm that he has a head.piece for 
ereiftiiiiig ; but for my part, I will pra; Heaven to dircui hun to 

^* r , . ■ A.OO'^IC 

m DOB qoizoTE. 

tbat which is b? st for him, and v31 enable him to áo the moet fot 
me." " You talk like awise man," said the priest, "and a good 
Christian ; but ue must now contrive t« relieve jour master froiu tliis 
unprofitable penance ; and, therefore let na go in to concert proper 
measures, nnd also to get onr dinner, which by tiis time ia ready." 
Bnneho said they might go in, but thnt he slioulJ clioose to stay 
without— he would tell them why anotlier time; he begi:ed th<;m, 
howerer, to bring him out something warm tn eat, and also samo 
barley for Uozinante. Aceordingly they left him and entered the 
inn, and sotm after the barber returned to him with some food. 

The cúralo and barber haviog deliberated together on the best 
means of aceoniplishiu^ their purpose, a device occurred to Ibc prieiit, 
esactly fitU'd to Don Quixote's huniour, and likely to effect what they 
defiired: wbich was, that be should perform hitnaelf the part of a 
damsel-errant, and tne barber eijuip him»elf as her squire ; in which 
disguise they sboulil repair to l>on Quixote : and the curate present- 
ing himself as an aíBicted and distressed hidy. should bc^ a Doon of 
him, which he, as a valorous kaigb t- errant, coidd not douthcrwisc than 
grant; and this sboald be a request that he would accumiumy her 
whjttier she should lead him, to redress an injury dime her by a dis- 
coarteons kn^ht ; entreating him, at the same time, not to desire licr 
to remove her mask, nor make any I'nrthcr inquiries conoeming her, 
nntil he had done her justice on that wickedWgbt. lie mode UD 
doubt bat that Don Quísote would consent to any suoh torras, and 
" • ■ • ■' - ■ ■ ■■ ■■ ^j place, and carry him home, 

le remedy (or hisextraordmai; 


The barber liked the priest's contrÍTance so well that they ¡mme- 
di^ely began to earry it into execution. They borrowed a petticoat 
and head-dress from the landlady, leaving in pawn for them a new 
cassock belonging to the priest ; and the 6arl>er made himself a huge 
beard of tlio tail of a pied ox, in which tiie innkeeper used to han^ lus 
comb. The hostess having asked tliem for what purpose they wanted 
those things the prie^st (fare her a brief account of Don Quiiote's 
insanity, and the necessity of that disguise to draw h;!n from his 
present retreat. The host and hostess immediately conjectured that 
this was tbe same person who had ouce been their guest, the mater 
of the bolsam, and the master of the blanketed squire; and tliey 
related to the priest what hod passed bclween them, without omitting 
what Siinelio bad been so carelul to conceal. In the mean time, tlio 
lanilludy eiiuipped the priest to admiration: she put him on a cloth 



made in tho iyrs of Kin? Bamba. The priest would not cnnsent to 
wp«r a woman's bead-dress, but put on a little nliita quilted ca]j, 
«liich he used ss a ni|^htr«i>, nnd liound one of hia partera of IiIhoIc 
taflVta abont his head^ and with the other made a kind of veil, wbleh 
coTcrcd his face and fjcatd very well. He then pulled his hat over 
bis face, which wn9 so larfce th^ it aerved him fa- aa umbrella, and 
wrapping his cloak around him, he got upon hia iduíe aidewaya like a 
woman. The barber nHHinted also, with a beard that reached lo hia 
Birdie, of a eolour between Borrel and white, betnK, as before said, 
made of the tail of a pied oi. Thev took leave of all, sot excepting 
the i;ood Maritornes, who promised, thongh a (inner, to pnj oser an 
entire rosary that Heaven mj^t give them goodsueDessmaoaniuow 
and Christian a bnaineaa a« tW. which they bad nndettaken. 

But scarcelr had they got odt of the inn, when the curat* began to 
think he had done amiss, uid that it was indceent fara))rie«t to beso 
«enouticd, idthongh for so good a purpose : and aoquaintiit^ the barber 
with his senples, he begged him to eiehango apparel, as it would 
better beconne him to personate the diatresaed damsel, and he would 
liimself act the sqnire, as being a less prefanalit» of hia diguity ¡ and, 
if be would not consent, he was determined to proceed no laitlier, 
thoa-rh the devil should ran away with Don Qiuxote. Tiiey wereitow 
ioined by Sancho, who was highly diverted at thdr appearaiiee. The 
«arber consented ti> the proposed exchaniBi upon nhich the priest 
iicgan io instruct him huw to act hÍ9 part, ana what eipresaions to 
use to Don Quixote, ia order to prevail upon hini to accompany them, 
and leave tSe place of his pcnanoe. The fauber assured bim that, 
without his instructions, he would undertake to manage that point to 
a tittle. The dress, however, he would not pnt on, until they came 
nearto the place of Don Quixote's retreat. The priest then adjusted 
his beard, mid they proceeded forward, guided hy Sancho Panza, who 
on the way r^ted tn them their adventure with the madmau whom 
they had encountered in tke mountain ; but said not a word aboutthe 
portmanleattand its contents; for with all his folly and simplicity, the 
rogue was somewhat covetons. 

The next day they arrired at the place where Saneho had strewed 
the branches to aaeertaia the place where he had left his master; 
and, upon sedng (hem, he gave notice that they hud entered llis 
moiinlain niss, and would therefore do well to put on their diígiiisc, 
if that had any aoncera with t>« deiiveiy of his master. Tiicy had 
lefore told hini that their disffuise was of the utmost imporiance 
towards disengaging his maiter from the miserable life he liad chosen ; 
and Ihat he must by no means tell him who they were i and if he 
should inrraire, as no doubt he would, whether he nad delivered the 
letter to Dulemca, he siioiiM say he had ; and that slie, not being ahle 
to read or write, had answered by word of month, and commandud the 
knight, on pain of her displeaiurc, to repair to her inimediately, upon 
an affair oi much importance : for, with this, and what they intended 
TO say, themselves, they should certainly reoonoiie him to a better 
mode cS life, and put him in the way of soon becoming an emperor, or 
a king; as to an an^bishop, be baa nnthin; to fear on that subject. 
Sanefio listened to all this, and imprinted it well on his memorj^ and 
gave them many thuike t<jr promising to advise hi» lord to be an 
empemr, and not an archbishop; for he was persuaded that, m 
■csarding theár aqairea, emperon «onld do mote tlum aiohbishopa- 


nould be sañicient to bnng him ont of that place, irithout farther 
trouble. The? aereed with Sancho, wid determined to wait for hia 
Tetnrn witli iotellifcencc of his master. Sancbo entered the mounlain 
pass, and left them in a pleasant spot, rcfrc^licd bv a sti^amlctof 
clear water, and shaded by rocks and over-hanging foliage. 

It was in the month of Ausost, when in those parli the heats are 
TJolent, auil akint three o'ckxik in the afternoon; on «liich account 
thev found the situation very agreeable, and consented tlie more 
readily to wait thrre till Sancho's return. While thej were reposinjf 
in (he ihade, a Tuice reached their ears, which, although «naccom- 
panicd by any instrument, sounded sweet aiid melodiona. They were 
much surprised, since that was not a place where they might cspect 
to heat fine singin¡( ; for, although it is common to tell of shepherds 
with melodious Toices, warbling over hills and dales, jet this is rather 
poetical fancy than plain truth. Besides, the Terses they heard were 
not those of a rustic rouse, but of refined and oouitly invention, as vii' 
appear by the following stauzaa . — 

Wbat causes all mygriaf and point 

Cmel diedain. 
"What Bggravntea my miury T 

Aotursml jualousy. 
Hd* ba* my bouI ila patieuco IcatI 

By ladion» nbseiice crow'd. 
Aloa '. no bahazn can be found 
To heal the grief of )ueb a woind. 
Whon ftb»enc«. joalousy, and soorn, 
Ubib left me tu^oe and Ibiiani. 

Whnt in my breiul tbú grief could moTet 

Neglocted loi'e. 
■What lioth my tend de«iio< witJiaUnd ! 

. lioth my ti) 
e'e cruBl hai 

And what caofirme my mitery.t 

Henren's fli'd decree. 
Ah me ! my boding fears portead. 
Tilia itrange di»Ba*e my lite will end ! 
For die I miMt, «hon three sncli fooa, 
Eeav'D, £¡10, and tori^ my bliae oppoeob 

Hv penoa of nJnd what can ratere t 

DoLth's welcome hour. 
Wliitt gBinB lora'ejoy* moat readily t 

PfclcJQ inconitADCT. 
Itapiin* whnt medicine can aenuget 

Wild pbremy'i rage. 
Tis Üiere&>re btUe wisdom, mr^ 
For «ich a grief to uek a euro. 
That known no becter remedy 
Than phreniy, dealli, inoanatanoj. 

The hour, the season, the solitude, the voice, and fhe slEÜt of the 
singer, all conspired to imiinss the auditors vilh wonder and delist, 
and they remained for some time motionless, in expectation of heariiw 
more : nut finiding the sileoce continue, they resolved to see who S 


vas vho had swg so agreeably : and were again detained b; the st 
voice, regaling their ears with mis sonuet :— 

FrieiuUhip, thou hnst with nimble flight 
ExulUuK gúc'd th' ampyn*] height. 
Id heaven M dxell, whilat here bolav 
Thy «smbbutca roigas in mimic ahoi« : 
From thonca to earth, at thy behest, 
Doaoendi fair pCiioe, coleatiiü jraeat I 

Deceit oft lorki, concMl'd bom view. 

Leave, friend^p I leave th; hMTonly «at, 

•n^e song ended with a deep sírIi, and they again listened vert 
mttentively, in hopes of hearing more ; but the music being changed 
into sobs and lamentation, they went in search of the unhaj^y perB<« 
whose voice was no lesa excellent than his complaints were moumfuL 
^ey had not gone far, when, turning the point of a rock, they ner- 
ceived a man of the same stature and appearance that Sancho had 
described Cardenio to them. The man expressed no surprise at the 
sight of them, but stood still, inclining his head upon his breast, in a 
pensiveposture, without affam raising his eyes from the ground. The 
priest, who was a well-spoken man, being ^ready acquainted with his 
misfortune, went up to him, and in few hut very impressive words 
entreated bin to forsake that miserable kind of life, and not hazard so 
great a misfortune as to lose it in that inhospitable place. Gardenia 
was then perfectly tranquil, and free from those outri^eons fits with 
which he was so often seiied j helikewiscappearedtobe sensible that 
the persons who now acoostcd him were unlike the inhabitants of those 
monotains ; he was still more surprised to bear them speak of his 
concerns, and he replied, " It ia very evident to me, gentlemen, who- 
ever jou are, that Hcavi^, which sacooors the good, and often even 
the wicked, unworthy as lam, sends to me in this solitude, so remote 
from the commerce of human kind, petsons who, representing to me 
by various and foroiHe arenmenta how irrational is my mode of life, 
endeavour to divert me m>m it ; but not knowing as I do that by 
flying from this misery I shall be plunged into worse, they doubtless 
take me for a fool or madman ; and no wonder, for I am myself aware 
" ' o intense and so overwhelmbg is the sense of my misery, 7 

1 know this to be tme, by the traces 1 leave of my frenzy ; bnt I can 
only lament in vain, curse my fortune, and seek an excuse for my 
extravagance by imparting the cause to all who will listen to me, 
sbce none who are acquainted with my situation could &il to pardon 
my conduct and compassionate my sufferings. And, gentlemen, if 
JOU come with the same intentínn that others have done, before you 
proceed any farther in yonr prudent counsel, 1 beseech you to hrar 

7 Kid story; for then you will probably spare yourselves the trouble 
endeavouriiig to find consolation for an evS which bas no 


136 son QirizoTS. 

The two Wends being desirous of hearing his own acconnt of him- 

Belf, entreated liini to indulge tlietn, assuring him they would do 

notning but what was agreeabie to him, eitlier in ihe way of remedy 

or advice. The unhappy joung man b^an his melancholy story almost 

in tlie same words in which lie had related it to Don Qukote and the 

' some few days before, when, on account of Master Ehsabat 

Quixote's zeal in defending the honour of knight-errantry, 

vas abruptly suspended ; but Cardenio'a sane mtetral now 

lini to conclude it quietly. On coming to the circumEtauce 

'e-lelter which Don Temando found between the leaves of 

of Anutdis de Gaul, ho said heremtmibered it perfectly well, 

it wae as follows : — 

"'Each day I discover in you qtialitiea which raise yon ia my 
esteem ; and, therefore, if you woidd put it in niy power to dischatse 
my obligations to you, without prejudice to my honour, you may 
ea^Uy do it. I have a father ivho Knows you, and has an affeotioi ' 

, who will never force my inclinations, and «ill compU' with whal- 
: you can justly desire, if you really liave that value for mo which 
profess, and which I trust you have. 

" Tilts letter made me resolve to demand Lucinda m marriage, as 
I have already related, and was one of those which pleased Don 
Fernando so much. It was this lelter, also, which marte him deter- 
mine upon my ruin hefore tnv design could he effeoled. I told Don 
Fernundo that Lucinda's fallier eipectcd that the proposal shouhl 
come from mine, but that I durst notmcutionit toiiiin, lest he should 
refuse his consent: nut that he wo» ignorant of Lucinda's exalted 
merits, which might .ennoble any family of Spain, but because 1 had 
uuderstood from nim that he was desirous I slioidd not marry until it 
should be seen what Duke Bicardo mould do for me. In short, I told 
Lim that I had not courage to speak to my father about it, being fnll 
of vague apprclicnsloDS and sad forebodings. In reply (o all this 
Don remando engaged to induce u ' '' ' ' '' 

lather of Lucinda O ambitious Í 

been dooe thee by a poor wretch who so frankly disclosed to thee the 
secrets oF his heart f ^Therciuhad I offended thee? Have I not 
ever sought the advancement of thy interest and honour t But why 
da I complain— miserable wretch that I am ! For when the stars are 
adverse, what b human power ! "VCho could have thought that Don 
Fernando, noble and generous, obliged by my sertices, and secure of 
success wherever his amorous inclinatious led him, should take such 
cruel pains to deprive me of my single ewe-lamb! But no more of 
lliesc unavailing reflections ; I will now resume the broken thread of 
my sad story. 

" Don Fernando, thinking my presence an obstacle to theeiccuticin 
of his treacherous design, resolved to send mc to his elder brother for 
money to pay for six horses which he bought, merely for a pretence 
to get me out of the way, that he might the more conveaicntly 
execute his diabolical pnriiosc. Could 1 foresee such treachenr 
Co'ild I even suspect it 't Surely not : on the contrary, well satisned 
with his purchase, I cheerfully consented to deput ímmetüatcly. 



■Riat n^t I had an interriew with Lucmda, and told herwhat had 
been agreed npon between Don Fernanilo and myself, aasurin^ her 
ot my hopes of a successful result. She, eqaally Huauapicinus of Don 
Femando, desired me to return speedily, stnce she bcbeved the com- 
pletion of our wishes waa only deferred nntil proposals should be 
made to her father by mine. I know not whence it was, but aa ahe 

Soke, her eyes filled with i^ais, and some sudden obstruction in her 
roat prevented her articnlating another word. I was surprised at 
her unuanal emotion, for we cenerally conyetsed together with plea- 
suiB, nnailojed by tears, signs, jealousy, suipirion, or alarms — I- 
expatiatinff npon my good fortune in possessing such a mistress ; and 
she, kindly commending in me what she thouglit worthy of commen- 
dation. We amused each Other also by the little coocems of onr 
aeighbours and acquaintance; and my presumption never extended 
farther than to seiz^ by foree, oneofher snowy nands, and press it to 
my lips as well as trie narrowness of the iron gate between lis would 
permit. But the night precedin" the dolcftd day of mv departure, 
she wept, sighed, and abruptly withdrew, leavine- me full of sarpriaa 
and trepidation at witnessing surh uneommon indications of grief and 
tenderness in my Imoinda. Still I cherished my hopes, and ascribed 
all to tbe CTcess of her tenderness for me, and the sorrow natural in 
bvers npon sroaration. I set out npon my journey sad and pensiye, 
my sonl fnll ot gloomy thoughts and fears — manifesC presages of the 
sad fete in store for me. 

"1 executed my commission to Don iemando's brother, by whom 
1 was well received, bat not soon dismissed ; for, to ray ¿ricf, he 
ordered me to wait eigtit da^s, and to keep out ot his father's sirfit ; 
becansc his brother had desired that a certjiin sum of money might be 
Bent to him witliout the duke's knowledge, All this _was a contri- 
vance of the fflise Fernando ; and I felt disposed to resist the injunc- 
tion, as it seemed to me impossible to support lite so many days 
absent from Lncinda, especially havinff left her in such a state of 
dejertion. Nevertheless, I did obey, like a good serrant, although at 
the cipenseof my health. But four days after my arriTal a man came 
in quest of me with a letter, which by the superscription I knew to 
be from Locinda. I opened it with ahirm, convinced it must be 
KnnethiBg entraordjnary tliat had induced her to write. Before I 
read it, 1 made some inquiries of the messenger. He told me that 
passing accidentally through a street in the town, a very beautiful 
lady, with tears in her eyes, called to him from a window, and awd to 

him, in mat a^tation, iViend, if ^ou 
for the love of Heaven, to carry this le 

a Christian, I beg of jon. 

lerchief out of the window; which contaiiieif a himdred reals, huu 
this gold ring, with tbe letter I have given you. She saw me take np 
the letter and the handkerehief. and assure her by signs that I would 
do what tbe commanded, and she then quitted the wmdow. Finding 
myself so well paid for the trouble, and knowing by the euprrscrip- 
tinnit was for you, sir; mduoed moreover by the tears of that beau- 
tiful lady, I resolved to trust no other person, hnt deliver it with my 
■own hands : and within sisteen hours I have performed the jtmmey, 
vhioh yon know is eígliteen leagnes.' While tbe gtatefol messenger 

1S8 sou quixoiB. 

thiu spoke, I bnng upon hia vonib, in; le^ trembliss ^ that I could 

Karcelj' st&ud. At lengtli X opened the letter, wliich contained these 

" 'The promÍEC Dou Femando save jron to intercede irilh tout 
father, he uas fuhilled, more for his own gratiScutiun thui vour 
interest. Euow, sir, tliat lie haa demanded n^e Id wife : and my 
father, idlured by tie advantage lie thinks Don Femando possesses ■ 
over TOii, has accepted this proposal so easerly that the niamage is to 
be solBDUuzed tn'o days hence, and with so much privacy; that, except 
Heaven, h few of our own faoiiiy are alone to witness it. Conceive 

«situation! and tlunk. whether you ought not to leturn. IViiclhcr 
ove you or not, the cvcot wul prove. Heaven eraut tbis may 
oome to )rour hand before mine be compelled to join his who breaks 
his pionuscd faith I ' _ 

''■i «et out inunediately^ without waiting for any other answer, or 
the money; for now I plainly saw it was not the purchase of horses, 
but the ^ulgcnce of his pleasure, that had induced Don Fernando 
to send mo to hia brother. My rage gainst Don Feroaudo, and the 
fear of losing the rich reward of my long service and alTection, gave 
wings to my speed: and the next day I reached our town, at (he 
moment favourable for an inter^'¡ew with Lucmda. 1 went privately, 
havii^ left my mule with the honest nan who brouglit me the letter : 
and fortune was just then so uropitioos that I found Lucinda at the 
grata, the constüit witness of our loves. We saw each other— but 
bow ! Wbo is there in the world that can boast of having fatliomcd, 
and thoroughly penetrated the intricate and evcr-ch^gmg nature of 
a woman P Certainly noiie. As soon as Luciiida saw nie she said; 
'Cárdenlo, I am in my bridal habit ; they are now waiting for me ill 
the ball; the treachi;rous Doa Fernando and my oovetou» father, 
■with some others, who shall sooner be witnesses of my death than oi 
my nuptials. Be not afflicted, my friend ; but endeavour to be present 
at tills sacrifice, which, if my oriruments cannot avert, 1 carry a 
dagger about me, which con oppose a mure eflcctiuil resistance^ by 
putting on end to my hfe, and will give you a convincing proof of the 
affection 1 hare ever home you.' I answered with confusion and 
jaccipitation : 'I>et you actions, madam, prove the truth of your 

words. If you carry a dagger to secure your honour, I carry a 
sword to defend you, or kill myself, if fortune proves adverse.' I do 
not believe she neard all I said, being hastily called away : for the 

bridegroom waited for her. Ücre the night of my sorrow clc«ed in 
upon me ! here set the sun of my happiness ! My eyes were clouded 
in darkness, and my brain was disoraered, I was úresolatc uhcttier 
to enter her bouse, and seemed bereaved of the power to move ^ but 
reeollectiag how important my presence might be on that occasion, I 
exerted myself, and hastened thither. Being perfectly acquainted 
with all tlie avenues, and the whole househuld engaged, I escaped 
observation, and concealed myself in tlie reee^ of a window in the 
hall, behmd the hangings, where two pieces of tapestry met ; whenoo 
I could see all that passed. Who can describe the Uutleriu^ of my 
heart, and my various seusatious, as I stood there F The bridegroom 
ent«red the boll, in his usual dress, accompanied by a cousin of 
Lucinda, and no otlier person was present, excejit the servants oS the 
bouse Soon after, from a dressing-room, came forth Lueindl^ 
«ooompanied by her mother and two of her own maids, adorned iu ibfi 

CAIt]>E>no'B STORT. IS9 

eifrcme of courtly splendonr. The atrcuy and distraelion I endared 
■Uowcd nie not to nbserve tlie particulara of lier dri-ss ; I remarked 
only tho colours, «hícli vrcro camatioQ and while, aiid ihc pivcioii* 
stones tliut gliltfted on every jart of her «ttiro : surpaswd, houcvcr, 
b? the sinsular beauty of her fair and j^lden tresses, m tl<c splendour 
of which tlie brilliance of heriewels and tlie blaic of tlie suiruundii.^' 
lights secntcd to be lost. memory, tbon mortid enemy of my 
repose ! wherefore now recall to me tbc incomparable beanty of that 
adored enemy of mine ! Were it not better, tliou cruel faculty ! to 
represent to my imiigiiiation her conduct at that period — that, moved 
by so flagrant an injury, I may strive, if not to avenije it, at least to end 
this life of jinin? Se not weary, gentlemen, of liieae digrcasiuiis ; for 
my misfortunes are not soch aa can be related briefly and methodi- 
cally, Mnce eveiy circumstance appears to me of importance." The 
firiest assured him that, far bom bein;:; tired of listening to him, they 
ook (treat pleasure in bis minutest details, which merited no less 
attention tbau the principal parts of his stor;. 

"I say then," continued Cardcnio, "that, being all assembled in 
the hall, the priest entered, and, hating taken them both by the hand, 
in order to perform what is necessary on such occasions, when be 
came to these words, ' Will you. signora Lucinda, take signer Don 
Fernando, who is here preaent, for your lawful husband, aa our hok 
mother tfie Church commands ?' I thrust ant my head and nect 
through the tapestry, and with attentive ears and distracted soul 
awaited Lucinda's reply, as the sentence of my death, or the conflr- 
nation of my lire. O I that I had then dared to venture forth, and to 
bBTc cried aJoud— 'Ah, Lucinda, Lucinda! beware what you do: 
consider what you owe to me ! Remember that yon are mme, ana 
cannot belong to another. Be assured tliat in prononncing Yes, you 
will instantly destroy me !— Ah, traitor Don íernando ! raTisher of 
my glory, death of my life I what is it thou wouldst have P to what 
iost thou pretend F Reflect, that as a Christian thou canst not aocom- 
plisb thv parpóse ; for Ludada b my wife, and I am her liosband.' 
Ait, fool tnat I am ! now I am absent, I can say what I ou^t to haro 
said, but did not ! Now, that 1 haTC sulTered myself to be robbed of 
my soul's treasure, I tun cursing the thief, on whom I might hare 
revenged myself if I had been then as prompt to act as I am now to 
complain ! I was then a coward and a fool ; no wonder, ths^fort, tí 
I DOW die ashamed, repentant, and mad. 

"The priest stood expecting Lucinda's answer, who pansed for a 
hoe timo- and when I thought she would draw forth the dagger in 
defence of ner honour, or make some declaration which mi^ht redound 
to my advantage, I heard her say in a low and funt voice, ' I will.' 
Don Fernando said the same, and the ring being put on, they 
remained tied in an indissoluble band. The bridegroom approacbed 
to embrace his bride ; and she, laying her hand on lier heart, fainted 
in tbe arms of her mother. Imagine my condition after that fatal 
Ye^ by which ray hopes were frustrated, Lncinda's vows and promises 
broken, and I for ever deprived of all chance of happiness. I was 
totally confounded— 1 thought myself abandoned by heaven and earth j 
*^~ -IT denying me breath for my sighs, and tbe water moisture for 


pKrotrndo ¡Dstnatly íeixtá, and read it hy one of tlie flambmni, itha 
wbich, he iot liimself down in a cliair, apparentlf full of thought, and 
witliout attending to the exertions made to recover his bride. 

" During this general constcmnt ion, 1 departed, indifferent whether 
I was seen or not; but determined, iFsecii, to art so desperate a part 
that all the world should know thejnst indignation of my breast, by 
tjie chostisemenl of the false Unn Feroiuido, and of the fickle, Ihoufcn 
swooning traitress. But mj falp, to reserve me for (freater evils, if 
greater can iiosaibty exist, ordained that at that juncture 1 had iho 
use of mv understanding, which has since failed me ; and instead of 
seiring tlie opportunity to revenue myself on my cruel enemies, I 
condenined tnjself to a more severe fate than I could have iniiicled 
on them ; for what is snddcn death, to a protracted life of anguish ? 
In short, I quitted the house : and returning to the place where 1 had 
left the mule, I mounted and rode out of tlie town, not daring, lika 
another Lot, to look behind me ; and when 1 found myself alone on 
the plain, concealed by the darkness of the night, the siienoe invitinir 
my lamentations, I gave vent to a thousand eiecrations on Lucinda 
and Don femnudo, as if that, alas ! would afford mc satisfaction for 
thewrongs 1 had sustained. 1 called her cruel, false, and ungrateful; 
and, above all, mercenary, since the wealth of my enemy had seduced 
her afiections from me. But, amidst all these reproaches, I sought 
to ñnd excuses for licr submission to parents whom she bad ever been 
accustomed implicitly to obey ; especially as they offered her a hus- 
band with such powerful attractions. Then, again, 1 considered that 
she need not have been ashamed of avoiving lier en^a^ement to me, 
since, had it not been for I>on Femando's propMals, her parents 
could not have desired a more suitable connection ; and I tnought 
' easily she could have declared herself mine when on the point oí 

Íher hand to mv rival. In fine, I concluded that her love had 
;ss than her ombition, and she had thus forgotten those promises 
by whicli she liad beguiled her hopes and chcrislied my passion. 

-'In the utmost perturbation ot mind,I jonmevcd on the rtstof the 
night, and at daybreak reached these mountains, over which I 
wandered three days more, without road or path, until I came to a 
valley not far hence ; and inquiring of some shepherds for the most 
rude and solitarv part^ Ihcy directed mc to iliis pkce, where I 
instantly came, aetermined to pass here the remainder of my life. 
Among these crags^ my mule fell down dead through weariness md 
buneer, or, what la more probable, to be relieved of so useless a 
burden ; and thus was I left, citonded on the ground, famished and 
eihausted, neither hoping nor caring for relief. How long I con- 
tinued in this state, 1 know not : but at length I got op, without the 
sensation of hunger, and found near me some goatherds, who had 
undoubtedly relieied my wants. They told me of the condition ¡n 
which they found me, and of many wild and extravagant things that 
I had uttered, clearly proving the derangement of my intellect ; and 
I am conscious that since then I have not been always quite right, 
but have committed a thoosand extravagances, tearing my garments, 
howling aloud through these Kilitudes, cursing my fortune, and 
repealing in vain the name of ihy beloved. When my senses return, 
1 ¡ind myaelf so weary and hruued, that I can scarcely move. My 
usual abode is in the nollow of a cork-tree, large enough to enclose 
this wretched body. The goatherd* charitably supply me with food, 

laying it OB the rocks, and in places where they think I may find it ; 
and even when my senses are disurdered, neoeasitv jmínls out my 
sustenance. At other tiniea, as tliey have inforniea nie in my lucid 
intervals, 1 come Lnio the road, and take from the eliepherds by force 
those proyisions which they would freely giye me. Tbus 1 pass my 
" ■ ■■ ' " ' " ' bring " "- 

,, J mando: otherwisG. Hpnven I 

. .. ! for 1 feel no power U „ , - - 

" This, geutlemen, is my melancholy tale. Trouble not yourselrea, 
I beseech you, to counsel or persuade me ; for it will be of no more 
aTÜt than to presoribc medicines to the patient who rejects ihem. I 
will have no health witliout Lucinila; and since she lias pluuied to 
give facrEcli to another whea aho was or ou^ht to have bt^n miae, let 
me have the pkasm^ of indulging myself in unhappiness, since I miifht 
have been happy if 1 had pleased. She, by her mulahihty, vould 
have irretrievably undone me; I. by eudeavouriog to destroy myself, 
would sntisiy her will, and I snail stand an example to posterity 
of havin»; been the only unfortunate person whom the possibility 
of receiving coi^soktion could not comfort, but plunged in still greater 
afflictions and misfortuuea ; for I verily beheve they will not nave an 
esd even in death itself." 

Here Cardenio icrminatcd the long recital of his story, no less full 

of miafortnnes than of love ; and just as the priest was preparinif to 

. say something to bim, by way of consolation, tte was prevented by a 

hich m mournful accents said what will be related ir "'— 

. . )0ol * " ' ' 

UignieUb, Google 



How happT and fininnale vas that a^ in which tlie laoet darins 
knight Don Quixote de la Klancha was usiiered into the world ! bídqc 
in conseqoence of hia honourable resolution to revive the inag- 
uegitccted and almost extin^j.shcd order of kni^ht-erruitry, we are 
regaled in these our times, so barren of eutertojoment, not oulj hj 
his own dcli^tfui Jiistor)', but also by the tolea and episodes oon- 
tained in it, which arc ecarcel; leaa a^e«able, ingenious, and true 
than the nairatioQ itself; thetnreadol whicli, being already oardo^ 
twisted, and reeled, may now be resumed. 

As narmted in the laaC cbaptes, the priest was prepariag to «v 
something consolatory to Cardenio, when ha was prereuied by a voice 
uttering these noanmil accents : — 

" O heavens ! have I then at last found aplace which mav alToid s 
secret grave for this wretched body ? Yes — if the silence of ibis rocty 
desert deceive me not, here I may die in peace. Ah, woe, ia me! 
Here at least 1 mavfreely pour forth my kmenlalions to Hciiven,Bnd 
shall be lesa wretcned than among men, from ntiou I should in vitío 
seek coanscl, redress, or oonsolation." 

These words being distinctly heard by the curate and his com- 
panions, they rose up to seek the mourner, who they knew by the 
voice to be near them: and they had not ^ne many paces when tliey 
espied a yonlh dressed like a peasant BÍI'' '' ^ ^ ' '' 

foot ofarock. Ihey could not at liratBi 
to bathe his feet in a rivulet which i 
silently that he did not hear then) ; t 
employed they stood in admiration at tb 
feet, which looked like pure crystal aou 
and did not seem formed for breaking c 
as might hare been expected from tlie 
curate, who went forcmOBt, made a sign 
and oonceai themsclrcs behind some fni( 
migbt watch his motions. He was cli 
gnraed closely round his body withapieoi 
gaiters, and his cap, were a^l of the san 
BOW pulled up, cxiKSed hia legs, whieli i 
After bathinf his lovely feet be wipet 


DisconaY ov locinda. 113 

trUch he drew from nsder hb cap; and in doin^ this he displayed a 
bee of such exquisite beautj, that Cardenio aaid to the pnest, in s 
low Toice, " Since it is not Lnciuda, this can be no hnman creature." 
The ToutD then took off hia cap, and shaking his head, a profusion of 
hair, that Apollo himself might envy, fell orer his shouldcra — and 
betrayed the woman, and the most beautiful one that two of the party 
had ever beheld. Cardenio declared that Luanda alone could be 
compared to her. Her lun^ and iplden tresses covered not only her 
ahouldera but nearly her whole body ; and her snowy fingers served 
her for a oomb. Her beautv made the three spectators impatient to 
And out who she was, and tney mnr determined to accost her. The 
lovely maiden looked up on bearing tbem approach, and with both 
her bands pottine her hair from before her eyes, she saw the intruders ; 

X)n whicn she hastily rose, and snatched up a bundle, apparently of 
thes, which laid near her, and without staying to put on her shoes 
or bina up her hair, she fled with precipitation and idarm; but had 
scarcely gone six paces when, her tender feet bang unable to bear 
the sharp gt^mes, she fell t« the gronnd. The priest now addressed 
himself V) her i " Do not if, madam, I entreat yon ; for we only 
desire to serre you ; indeed there is no reason why yon sbonld 
attempt so inconvenient a flight." Surprised and confounded, she 

ddu- miwam, or, if you please, dear sir, that yoo will aismiss evwy 
tdarra on oar aocomit, and give us an opportunity of rendering you 

iriest thus addressed her. the diagnised maiden stood 
like one stupiSed, her eyes fixed on them, withont answering one 
Word— like a eoantry clown when be is suddenly sur^xised by, some 
new sight. At length, after the priest had said more to the same 
purpose, s^e heaved a deep sigh, and breakins silence, said : " Since 
even titese retired mountains have &iled to conceal me, and my hair 
has betrayed me, I can no loni^r attemptto disguise myself. Indenl, 
genllemen, 1 feet very grateful for yonr kind aSan to serve me^ but 
such is my unfortunate aituatioa that eonmiiscratioQ is oU 1 can 
expect; nevertheless, that I ma<r not suffer in your opinion from the 
stnini^ circnmsfances under which yon have discovered me, 1 wilt 
tell von the canse without reserve, whatever pam it may givs me." 
She spoke with so much grace, and in so sweet a voice, that they were 
still more charmed with her, and repeated their kind offers and solici- 
tations for her confideiwe. Having first modestly put oa her shoes 
and stockinsis, and inthered np her hair, she seated herself upon a flat 
stone, her three auditors placing thenúelvee eionnd lier; and alW 
some efforts to testroin lier tears, ane b^on her story in this 
manner: — 

" There is a town in the province of Andaloaia, from which a duke 
takes his title, that makes him a grandee of Spain. This duke has 
two sons ; the elder, heir to his estate, and npiñrently to his virtues ; 
theyounger, heir to 1 know not what, unless it he to the treachery 
of Vellido and the deceitfubess of QaUlon. Mv parents am vassals 
to this nobleman, and are very ricli, tbo>Dgfa of hmnble birth, other- 

r , A.OO'^IC 


TLse I should DOt be in tliis wretclicd itai* ; fur tlieir wmt of rank is 
probi^ly the cauue of all my uusfurtunes. Not, indeed, ttui>t there is 
ajijtiiius di^raceful in the oondiuon of my faimlv-~tltey are fai-nier^ 
simple. Ti ooest people, ttndeuch as are cüllud old nutv Christ ia'os,'* 
of tLal class which liy their wealth aiid handwise way of Hviug are ttj 
deeieea acquinng the name of ^ntlemen. 

But what ihey prized above raiik or riche« was their d«Qght«r, 
lole Leire^ of then lortuue, and I vas alwafs treated br them with, 
the utmost indulgence and allyctJun. I waa the hght of thnr evee, 
the staff of their old fig^ and, uniier heaven, theioleobject ofallllieir 
hopes. And, as I was mistress of their affectkina, so was I of all t hef 
po&sessed. To me they intrusted the juanageineot of the household : 
through my hands passed the accounts of all tliat was sown and 
teanca : the oit-uulls, the wjoe-presses, the Dumerous herd», flocks, 
and iJie bee-hives— everythioK, in short, waa intiusted to my onre. 1 
was bolJi steward and miatreas, and alwajn pofonued my duties to 
their satisfaction. The leistue hours that remained I passed in 
«ewing, spinuing, or making lace, and soRtetimes in reading good 
books, or, if my spirits required the reKet of musii^ I had rcooorae 
to my gitt«m. Such was tlie life I led ia my father's bouse : and I 
Lave not been so pajlicular in desctibine it out of oetoitation, hat 
that you may know bow undcsertedlyl have been cast from that 
happy state into my present misery. Thus 1 passed mj time, con- 
stuitly occupied and i» retirement, seen ozily, as I iinaigined, by our 
owu ser\'auts ; 6at when I weut lo mass it was early in the morning, 
accompanied by my molhor, and so closely veiled that my eyes saw 
no more grouna than the space wliich my foot covered. Yet the eyes 
of love, or ratbu of idleness, which are like those of a lynx, disco- 
vered me. Don Fernando, the younger son of the duke, whom I 
mentioned to vou"— she had no sooner named Boa Femando, than 
Cardenio's colour changed, and be was so violentlv agitated that the 
priest and the barhor «ere afraid that he wonld be seiwd with one 
of those paroxysms of frenty to which he was sulQcct. But he 
reraaiued quiet, fijjng his eyes attentirely on the cooi^ry-maid, weU 
coiíjecturíñK wlio ^e was ; while she, not observmg the emotions of 
Cardenio. o(mtinued her story, sayict; : " No soona: had he seen me, 
than (as be afterwards declared) he cunceived for me a Ticdent amo- 
tion— but, to shorten the account of my misfortuiies, I pass over in 
süeace the devices Don Fernando employed to nuke his passioB known 
to me. He bribed all our servants ; he offered pKsents to my rela- 
tions ; every day was a festival in our streets ; and at night nobody 
could sleep for serenades. In&nite were tbe billets-donx that cam& 
I knew not how, to my hands, filled with amorous deolarations ma 
eipiessions of kindness, containing more promises and oatha than 
letters. Ail these efforts I resisted : not that the gallantry and soli- 
citations of Bod remando vox displeasing to me ; for I oonfess that 
I felt flattered and gratified by the attentions of a gentleman of his 
high rank ; besides, women are always pleased to he admired. How- 
ever, I was supported by a sense of virtue, and the good advice of 
n y parents, who told me that they relied oa my virtue and prudence, 
tni at the same time begged me to cousidec the inequality between 

njuAl and Don Fenumdo, and to suspect, wbatever he imgbt say to 
the contrwy, that it was liU own plcnsare, not my happiness, Ihitt he 
bad ia new-, and if I would consent to nase a bnmer a^*n3t his 
uatrorth]' projects, the; would enza^ immediately to find a suitable 
match for me. Thus cautioned, 1 maintained the utmost reseire 
towards Don Jieroando, and never ¡tavc him the least cncourajemeut 
citjier by louk or word; but my bKhaviour only iucreased his brutal 

Cion— kire I cannot call it ; for had hu truly loved me, you would 
I been spared this sad tale. 

" Don J'eniando, having discovered my parents' intentions for my 
secority, was determined 1o defeat them ; and one night, as I was in my 
chamber, the door fast looted, and only my maid present, he suddenlr 
stood before me. TerriBed at his unespected appearanee, I was 
deprived of the power of utterance, and, all my strength failing me, he 
cnui^ht me in his arms, 'ilie traitor then pleaded by si;^ and tears. 
Bad with such an appearanoe of tnitl], that I, ajXMr simple ci'eature, 
without experioneo, be((antogivesomecradittohim thonshlwasftr 
from beina moved to any orirainal compassion. When I was auffl. 
ciently recovered to speak, I exerted myself, and said to him: 'If 
my life depended on trie sacrifice of my hononr, 1 would not preservo 
it OD soeh teims ' and though within your grasp, you have no power 
oier mj mind ; I am joar vassal — not your slave. Tour rank does 
not give you the privilege to insult me, who have an equal claim 
to self-respect witli yonrself. I despise your riohes, and distrust your 
word»; neither am X to he moved oyyonr sighs and tears. Had I 
been thus solicited by one who faaid obtained the sanction of my 
parenta, and honourably demanded my hand. I might hare listened to 
propa«als~but to no others than those of a lawful husband.' 

If that be all, beautiful Dorothea 1 ' said the treacherous man, 
' here 1 pledge to you my band ; and let ail-seeing Heaven and thai 
im^Ot our Jjady witness the i^reemant !'" 

When Cardeaia beard her call herself Dorothea, he was confirmed 
JB bis eonjecture; but he would not interrupt the story, being desirous 
to hMC tbe event of what ¡apart he knew airead v; and he only said: 
" What, madam ! is your name Dorothea? I hare heard of one of 
tbat name wboaa misfortunes much resemble yours. But proceed ; 
lao&er We I niay tell you things that will equaUy eicite vour won- 
der Bod OOmpassioQ." Dorothea, strnck byOardemo's woros, and his 
Btnmge and tattered dress, entreated him, if he knew anything of her 
affiura, to tell her without delay : for fortune had still left her courage 
to bear any disaster that might oefal her, being certain that nothii^ 
oould inSRaae hor misery. 1 should be sorry to say anything that 
wonbl do so, madam," replied Cardenio ; " nor is it necessary for me 
to speak at present." 

Dorothea proceeded i— " Don Fernando (hen took np the holy ¡maso 
and c^led iQHtn it to witness onr espousals : nledifitig himself by the 
most solemn low», to become my hnsbsna, notwithstanding my 
I'liliMitiin that be would eonsidor the displeasure of his family, and 
otileT düadraali^es that mieht result from so unennal on union. All 
tbat I nrged was of no avail, since it cost him nothing to make pro- 
misee which lie never meant to perform. Bcini; in some degi'ee 
moved, by his perseverance, I began to consider that I should not be 
t^ first of lowly Irirth who Iwd been elevated by her beauty to rank: 
and that snoh good fortuita should aot ho lightly rejected. I reDccted 

^ r , . ■ A.OO'^iC 

140 ]X>N qiTIXOTE. 

also that my repntalion would iDfalUbly snlTer by this visit, in spite of 
my innocence ; and alas ! above all I was moved by his insioutitinf; 
mamiera and tender pi'otcstations, vhich might well buve softened a 
harder heart than mine. I called my maid to bear testimony to his 
plighted failli— again he repeated the most solemn vows, atlesting 
new saints to hear them, ana thus be Gsaily succeeded in becoming a 
periured traitor. 

On the morning that followed that fatal nif(ht, Don Fernando 
quitted me ^cithout reluctance: he assured me indeed of bis tnith 
andhonour,hüt not with the warmth and vehemence of the preccdins 
night ; and at parting he drew a valuable ring from hia Imger, and 
put it upon mme. Whatever hia sensatious might have been, I 
remained confused and almoat distracted. I knew not whether ^ood 
or harm hod befallen me, and was uacertain whether I should chide 
my maid for her treachery in admitting Donremando to my chamber. 
Thai perfidious man visited me but once more, although access was 
free to bim, as I had become hia wife. Monihs passed away, and in 
vain 1 watched for his coming ; yet he waa in tlic town, and everr ■da.J 
amusing himself with banting. What melancholy days and hours 
were those to rae ; for I began to doubt his fidelity. Then my damsel 
heard those reproob for her presumption which she had before 
escaped. 1 long strove to hide my tears, and so to guard my looks 
that my parents might not see and inquire into the cause of mv 
wretchedness ; but suddenly my forbearance was at an end, with all 
regard to delicacy and fame, upon the intelligence reaching me that 
I}on Fernando was married, in a neighbouring tüId^, to a beautiful 
TOung iadj, of some rank and fortune, named Lucinda."— Cárdenlo 
heard the name of Lucinda, at first, only with signs of indignation, 
but soon after a flood of tears burst from his eyes. Dorothea, how- 
ever, pursued her story, saying ; " When this sad news reached my 
ears, my heart, instead of being chilled by it, waa so incensed ana 
iraSiunea with ra^, that I comd scarcely forbear rushing into the 
streets and proclaiming the baseness and treachery I had experienced. 
But 1 became more tranqml after forming a pnúeot, which I executed 
the same night. I borrowed this apjiarel ofa shepherd swain in my 
father's service, whom I intrusted with my secret, and bc^ed him to 
attend me in my pursuit of Bon Fernando. He assured me it waa a 
rash undertaking; but finding me resolute, he said he would go with 
nie to the end of the world. Immediately I packed up some of my 
own clothes, with money and jewels, and at night sccretlv left the 
bouse, attended only by my servant and a thousand anuous thoughts ; 
and travelled on foot to the town where I expected to find my 
husband ; impalientto arrive, if not in time to prevent hia perfidy, 
to reproach him for it. 

"1 in^juired where the parents of Lucinda lived; and the first 
person to whom I addressed myself told me more than I desired to 
hesi. Ho directed me to the house and gave me an account of all 
that had happened at the young lady's marriage. He tohl me also 
that on the night Don Fernando waa married to Lucinda, after eh» 
had pronounced the fatal Yea, she feL into a swoon ; and the bride> 
groom in unclasping her bosom to ffive her air, fonnd a paper written 
by herself, in which she affirmed that she could not be wife to Don 
Fernando oecanse she was already betrothed to Csrdetdo (who, as ths 
man told me. was a frentlemau ÚE tho mme town], and tlut she bad 

Dorothea's stout. Ii7 

pronounced her assent to Don Fcraimdo merely in obedience to her 
parents. The paper also revealed her intention to kill herself as sooa 
as the cereraouT was over, which wns confirmed by a poniard they 
found concealed npon bcr. Don Fernaudo was so enraged to Hud 
himself ibus mocked and sliflitcd, tliat lie seized hold of the sniiie 
poniard, and would ceitnicly nave stabbed her, bad he not been )ire- 
vented by those present; whereu;)on he immediately quitted Ibe 
pUee, When Lucinda revived, she confessed to her parents the 
enrajemcnt she had formed wjt)i C.irdenio, who. it vfas suspected, 
bad witnessed the ceremony, and hnd hastened from the city 

"All this was publicly knowTi, and the (tenend subject of cc 

tíon : especially when it appeared that Liiciud:L also was missing fro^n 
her fallier's house— a circiimsfanee that overwliclmed her family w:th 

grief, but revived my hopes ; for I flattered niyself that Heaven had 
lus interposed to prevent the completion of Don Feraando's sf^cond 
marriage, in order to touch his conscience and to restore bim to a 
sense of duty and honour. These illusive hopes enabled me to endure 
■ life which IS now become insupportable to mc. 

" In this situation, undecided what course to take, I heard mysclí 
proclaimed by the public crier, offering a great reward for discovering 
me, and desoribins my person and dress. It was also reported that I 
had eloped from my father's house with the lad that attended me. I 
was stung to the soul to find how very low I had fallen in publio 
opinion ; and, ni^«d by the fear of discovery, I instantly left the cit^, 
and ¡X night took refuge among these mountains. But it is truh* said 
one evil produces another, and misfortones never come singly ; for my 
servan^ nitherto so faithful, took advantage of t])b sohtary place, 
and, dismissing all regard either to God or bis mistresi began to 
niake love to rae ; and, on my answering him as he deserved, he would 
have used force, but merciful Heaven favoured me, and_ endued me 
with strength to posh him down ajiceeiiiice, where I left him, whether 
dead or alive I know not, for, in spite ol terror and fatigue, 1 fled from 
the spot with the utmost speei After this I engl^íed myself in tlie 
•ervice of a shepherd, and nave Hved for some months among these 
wilds, always endeavouring to be abroad, lest I shnnld betraj myself. 
Yet idl my care was to no purpose, for my master at length discovered 
that I was not a man, and the same enl thonghts soraug up in his 
breast that had possessed my servant. Lest I might not find the 
same means at himd to free myself from violence, I sought for secu- 
rity in flipht, and have endeavoured to hide myself amongst these 
rocks. Here, with incessant sighs and tears, I implore Heave 

UignieUb, Google 


" Tflis, gentlemen," added Dorothea, " is m^ tr^ciú story ; think 
whether the si^hs and tears which yoa liftve «itncss«d have not Wa 
morethui juBtiiie± MTmiffortoneSjUjOQwill confesR, are incapable 
of aremcdf; and all I desho of xou is to advise me how 1o lire without 
the continual dread of beiog discorered : for allliou^ 1 ani oeiiain of 
& kind recoptioa from my parents, to overwhelmed am I with shame, 
that I ohooae rather to baniah mjielf for ef er from llieir siElfat tfaw 
appeal before them the object of sneli hateful snapicions." 

Here she wai silent, «hile her blushes and oonfusion sufficieBtly 
manifested the shame and azon; of her soul. Ker aaditore wen 
much affected by her tale, and the curate was just goin<; to addreaa 
bar, when Caidenio inlemipted him, saying ; " Yon, madam, ilien, 
aro the beantiínl Dorothea, only daugbler of the rich Clenardo f " 
Dorothea st«Rd at lieariiur her father named by such a miserable* 
looking object, aod she asked him who he was, since he knew her 
father. " I an that hapless CuiJonio," he replied, " who anffns from 
the biae author of your misfortimes, reduced, as yoa now behold, t« 
naitedneas and misery — deprived erea of reason ! Yes, Dorothea, I 
heard that fatal jea jironounoed by Lucinda, and, nnable to bear ni]> 
Mn^uish, I ñtá precipitately from her house. Amidst t^ese mrnin- 

I ihonght to iiave terminated ra^ wretched eiistenoe ; but the 

account you nave just given lias in^ired me with hope ttiat ileaven 
mav still have happiness in atore for ua. Lucinda haa avowed herself 
to lie mine, and thercfoie oaimat wed aootiier ; Don Fernando, being 

Ei, cannot have Lucinda. Let us then, my deu lady, indolfrc the 
that we may both yet recover oar own, since it is not absolutely 
Indeed, I swear to you that, although I leave it to Heaven to 
avenge my own iigurtes, your claims will 1 assert ; ix»' will I leave 
you until I have obliged Don Fernando, either by argamcnt or my 
sword, to do yon justice," 

Dorothea would have thrown herself at the feet of Cordenio, to 
express her gratitude to him, bad he not prevented her. The lieen- 
tiate too oommcnded his generous determination, and entreated theni 
both to Qocompany him to his village, where they miglit oonsull on 
the most proper measures to be adopted in the present state of their 
alFairs ; a proposal to which they tbanlifolly Hcceded. The barber, 
who had hitherto been silent, iicrw joined in eiprewing his good 
wishes to them ; he also briefly related the circumstanoea which had 
bron^t them to tliat place ; and when he mentioned the extraordi- 
narv maioity of Don Qnixote, Cardenio had an indistinct recollection 
of having had some altercation with the knight, but could not 
mber whence it amac 

They were now intermpted by the volceof Sandra Faom, who, not 
finding them where hr ' ' — ' '" "" '' " -■ - ■ 

mtemipted by tbe voice of Sanara raom, who, not 

-„ __ . — -■e he left them, began to call out loudly : tliey «"ent 

.nstantly to meet him, and were eocer in their mqiiines after Don 
Qtiiiote. He told them that be had found him naked to his shirt, 



feeble, wait, and balf-desd with hunger, sishing for his lady Dolánea ; 
and thoush he had informed him t hat it was her expresa deure that 
he should leave that place, and reiair lo Toboso, where she expected 
liim, his aiuwer was that he positively would not appejtr before her 
beauty until he had perfonned exploits that m^bt render him worthy 
of her favour j if his master, he oddud, persisted iu that humour, he 
would niu a nsk of never becoming an emperor, as b honour bound ; 
Dor even an trdibiabop, which was the least he eould be ; bo they 
must consider what was to be done to (fet him away. The lieentiaM 
1»«gged Ihm Bot giro hiiOBelf any nneaainess on that aooount, for tbey 

upoB her, as she had read many wo^ of chirBlry, and ««, -vu 
«equainted with the style in which distressed damsels were wont to 
beg tlieir boons of kai^bte-erraot. " Let as then baeUn to p«t o«r 
design into execution," exdaiDied the curate i " binee ñ^nne seerna 
ta bvottT all our views." l>orotluia immediately took froia her bundle 
«iKtdooat«fve[7 rich stufi^aada mantle of fine erom silk; andoatofa 
e^ket a necklace and otlier jewels, with which ahe qnickly adorned 
fcerwif, in suck a muincr that she had ell the appeamnce of a neb and 
(oiile Udy. They were ohanned with ker beauty, graec,aBdeleganee¡ 
•nd agreed that Don Fernanda muat be a awn of little taate, sines 
he oould slight so much exeeUeoce. Bat her f;ceate«t admirer waa 
SADClKt Panea» who thotwht that in all his hie he had never seen so 
beaaüfitl* creature; and he earnestly deaired ^ priest to tell htm 
who thin beantifal Ma w«a, and wfaal she wai leokñg for in tt 

partai' " This beautifii] íaÁj, frintd Sanoho," snawered the priest, 

is, ta «ay tlte least of ker, heireas. in the direct male line, of the 
gitat kiaxdora of Miooraiconj and she oomes in quest cf your masbr, 

ÍA8pi«MÍowallGa¡nea, that has bmught this prineea* to seek him." 
" Ñ ow, a happy aeekii^, and a happy onding ! " qnoth Sanelio f anea : 
"especially It Biymasleria so fartanate as to redress that injur. Uid 
i^hl ikti wron;, bv killing the rascaUv günt you mention ; 1001 kill 
lum be certainlf will, if he taeouMten tiim, noless he be a goblin ; for 
myinaelerhBsaopowcratalloTergoblina. Butooethbglmuatagaiii 
itegot yonr wcnshia signar lieenti^Ue, aad tbrt is, to prevent mr master 
An>ia Uking it mta hie head to be an arohbiabop^ aed advise bim to 
marry th^lHÍBOeasont of hand t forthen, not bein^qnalified to receive 
•tohiepiseopal orders, he wiU come with ease to his kingdom, and 1 to 
theeodofeiy wiaheat forlhaveeonsideredlhenwtlfrivoli. and And by 
mj acoMnt it will not soit me for ny master to be anaiehhishop, as I am 
tiáfit^w-tihechareh^ being a married man; and forme to be now going 
*bout lo procure dispensations for holiiing clwreh-lÍTÍng, having, as I 
have, a wife and emidren, ««uid be an «sadless piece of work. So 
thatk sir, the whole basmcas reste upon my inasler's marrving tlua 
tad? «at of hand— not koowing her grace, 1 canitot call her by 
name." " The Princess Mioomicon» is her naaie," said the pnest ; 
"bxaa hex kjnsdom is juuncd Micomicon, of comse site must be 
,, .A.OOgIC 

ISO BO» (JtnxOTE. 

called so." "To be sure," answered Sanelio : " for I have known 
many lake their tille aiid surname from their, as Pedro de 
Alcalá, John dc L beds, Dipiro de Valladolid ; and, for I au^ht I knoir, 
it may be the Custom m Guinea for queens to take Üie names of Iheir 
kÍD!rdoiD9." " It ia certainly sa" said the priest ; " and as to your 
masier's mamine this princess, I will promote it to the utmost of my 
power." WitL wiiich assurance Saaelio was no less satiificd than the 
priest was amazed at his simplicitj in tbua entering into the eilra- 
Tacant fancies of his master. 

Dorothea bavinfr now mounted the priest's mule, and the barber 
ÜItcd on the oi'tail beard, they desired Sancho to conduct them to 
])on QBtKote, cautioning him not to say that he knew the licentiate 
or the Durber, since on that de|>ended all his fortune. Neither the 
priest DOT Cárdenlo would fm with them ; the latter, that he mijjht 
Dot remind Don Quixote of toe dispute which he had had with bim ; 
and the pnest, because his presence was not then necessary : so the 
others, thercfori!, went on before, while they followed slowly on foot. 
Tlie priest would have instructed Dorothea m her part; but she would 
net trouble him, assoring him that she would perform it precisely 
according to the rules and precepts of chiTalry. 

Having proceeded about three-quarters of a league, they discovered 
Don Quixote in a wild, rocky recess, at that time clothed, but not 
armed, Dorothea now whipped on her palfrey, attended by the well- 
bearded squire ; and having approached the knicht, the squire leaped 
from his mule to assist his lady, who, lij^litly dismountin;^, went and 
threw herself at Don Quixote's feet, where, m spile of his elTorta to 
raise her, she remainetf kneelins, as she thus addressed him ; — 

■' I will nerer arise from tliis place, Ü valorous and redoubled 
knight, until your coodness and courtesy vouchsafe me a boon, which 
will redound to the honour and plury of jour person, and to the 
lasling benefit of the most disconsolate and aggrieved damsci the sun 
has ever beheld. And if the valour of your puissant arm correspond with 
the report of your immortal fame, you are oound to ¡irotect an unhappy 
wight, who, attracted by the odour of your renown, is come from distant 
regions to seek at your hands a remedy for her misfortunes." 

" It is impossible for me to answer you, fair lade," said Don Quixote, 
"whiie you remain in that posture." "I will not arise, sijraor, 
answered the afflicted damsel, "until your courtesy shall vouchsafe 
the boon 1 ask." " 1 do Toucbsafe and grant it to you," answered 
Don Quixote, "provided mv compliance be of no dctnineiit to my 
kin|r,iny eouutrj-, ur to her wao keeps the key of my heart and hbcrtj'." 
" ll will not be to the prejudice of eitlier of these, dear sir," replied 
the affiictcd d^imsel. gimcho. nov approaching his master, whispered 
softly in his car, " Your woishiii may very safrly grant the boon she 
asks ; for it is a mere iriSc— only to kill a great lubberly giant ; and 
she who begs it is the mighty Princess Micoioiconia, queen of the greut 
kinidom of Jlicomicon, in JJthiopia." " Whosoever the lady may 
be," answered Don Quixote, " 1 shall act aa my dutv and my con- 
science dictate, in conformity to the rules of my profession:" then 
ndiircssmg himself to (he damsel, he said: "Fairest iady, arise; fori 
■vouchsafe you whatever boon you ask." "My request then is." siiid 
ilie damsel, "that jour magnanimity will go whither 1 shall coiiduet 
you ■. and that you will promise not to engage in any other adveijlute 
tmiil you have avenged me on a traitor who, against all right, huiuaii 

UNCHO'S ssnEcnoNS. 151 

■]idd¡TÍne.lifisDsiirpedinykm^oin." "Igrant yonr reqnest," an- 
swered Dun Quixote 1 "and therefore, lady, dispel tliat mclancliolr 
wLich oppresses jou, ond let joiir fainting hopes recover fresh life 
and Hlreiigtb ; for, by the help of Heaven, and oiy powertui ann, you 
shall soon be reetorcd to your kingdom, and seated on the throne of 
your ancient and hiab estate, in despite of all the miscreants who 
would oppose it ; ana therefore we will ins taatly proceed to aetion. 
for tliere is alwap dflnyer in delay." The distressed damsel would 
fain have kisaed his hands ; but Don Quixote, who was in every respect 
a most (lallant and courteous knight, would by no means consent to 
it, but, making her arise, embraced her with much politeness and 
respect, and ordered Sancho to look after Rozinante's girths, and 
ta assist him to ann. i^ancbo took down the amiour from a tree, 
where it hung like a trophy ; and having got Kozinante readv, quickly 
armed bis master, who then cried, " In Qod's name, let us basten to 
succour this great ladv." 

The barber was still upon his knees, and under much difficulty to 
forbear laughing, and keep his beard from falling — an accident which 
might liare occasioned the raiscarriage of their ingenious stiatagem ; 
bat seeing that the boon was already granted, and that Don Quixote 
prepared to fulfil hi» engaitement, he got up and took his lady by the 
otlier hand; when thev oolh assisted to place her upon the mule, and 
tlfu mounted themselves. Sancho alone remained on foot, which 
renewed his grief for the losa of his Dapple : but be bore it cheer- 
fully; reflecting tliat his master was now in the right road, and just 
upon the point of becoming an emperor ¡ for he made no doubt but 
that he was lo marry that princess, and be at least kin^ of Micom icon. 
One thing only troubled him, which was tliat, bis kingdom being in 
the land of negroes, liis subjects would all be blacks : hut presently 
recoDectiug a special remedy, he said to himself: "What care I, íí 
my subjects he blacks F— what have I to do but to ehip them off to 
Spain, where I may sell them for ready money, with which money I 
may bu/ some title or offiee, on which 1 may live at ease all the days 
of my life? See whether I have not brains enough to managematteñ, 
aud sell thirty or ten thousand slaves in the turn of a hand ! Before 
Heaven, I will make then Qy, little and hie; and let them be ever so 
black, I will turn them into wliitc and yellow boys ; let mc alone to 
lick aiy own fingers." After tliese reflections, he went on in such 
good spirits, that he forgot the fatigue of travelling on foot. 

Caruenio and the priest^ concealed among the buslies, had observed 
all that passed, and oeing now desiroua to join them, the priest, who 
bnd a rúkdy invention, soon hit upon an expedient ; for witli a pair of 
scissors, which he carried m a case, be quickly cut off Cardetiio's 
beard ; then put on him a grey copoueh, and gave him bis own black 
cloak (I'lii^elf remaining m bis breeches and doublet), which so 
clian;:cd Cardenio's appi-arance, that hati he looked ii. a mirror he 
would not have known himself. Althouüh tlieothcrshadin themean 
time been proceeding onward, they easily gained the uigh-rond first, 
because the narrow passes between the rocks were more difficult 
to horse than to foot travellers. They waited in the phdn until 
Pon Quixote and his party came up; whereupon the curate, after 
gazmg for some time earnestly at him, at last imn towards him with 

Xn arms, ejtclaimmg aloud : " ilaiipy is tliia rneeliog, thou mirror of 
fahy.myuüble coutttrymwi, Don Quixote delailanoba! thcflower 


15* DOM qcuoTK. 

■ud cream of cenlÜit^.—the protector of safferins mankini!. — tbo 
quintesseQCC of kniglit-trrantiy I " Having tiiiu spdton, he embraCHl 
Don Quixote by Oie knee of his left leg. 

Theknigbt was BHrprised»t this address; but after attentírelysur- 
vejiiig the features of the speaker, he recoscniaed him, and would imme- 
diately have alighted ; but the pikst would not sufl'cr it. " Yoq must 
permit me to alight, signor licentiate," answtrad Don Ouiiote: "lirt 
It would bo very improper thnt 1 sliouJd r^nain □□ honipbadc whilo iO 
reyerendapersonaayouwere traTfllinffonfoot." "Iwilibynt " 

dismouating," replied the priest, " sinee on hwBebaek 

Sau nave aciiieved tbe greatest eipkiits tliis Bite Iiaa witnessed. Ai 
>c myself, an unworthy piieat, I shall be MtisÜtjd if one of these jien- 
tlemcn of your company will allow mc to mount bebiud hliT} ; and I 

sprightly ceursei befttrode by tbefamous Moor Muzarqne, who lies to 
this day enchanted in the creat mountain Zulema, not (az distant from 
tlie grand Compluto." • I did not think of that, dear ai^or licen- 
tiate," said Deal Quixote ; "andlknow ber highness the princess wiH 
for my sake order her squire to sf commodate you with the saddle of 
his mule ; and he may nde behind, if tbe beast will carrj^ doable." 
" I believe sbe will," answered the princesa ; " and 1 know it is nnn&- 
cessary for me to lay my commands upon my squire ; for he is too 
courteous and well-bred to suITer an ecclesiastic to ffo on foot, when 
he man ride." " Most certainly," answered the barber ; and, ahchtingr 
in an instant, he complimented tbe priest with the saddle, wliich he 
accepted without much persuasion. £ut it unluckily happened that, 
as the barber was getting apon the cropper, tbe animal, whidi was b 
hackney, and conseciuentlyavicious jade, threw np her hind legs twice 
or thrice into the air; anahad they met with Master Nicbolaa^ breast 
or head, he would have wished his rambling after Don Quixote at the 
devil, He v.Bs, however, thnrwn to the «round, and so suddenly, that 
be forgot to take due care of his beard, which fell off; asdall he could 
dowasto cover his face with both bands,andcr7out that bis jaw-bone 
was broken. Don Quixote seeing such a mass of beard without jaws 
and «ilhout blood, lying at a distance from tbe face of tbe fallen 
squire, exclaimed : " Heavens ! what a miracle ! His beard has fallca 
as clean from his face ai if he had been shaven I " 'ihe priest, seeing 
the danger they were in of discovery, instantly seized the beard, and 
ran to Master Nicholas, who was still oh the fnoutid mosning ; asá 
going up cbse to him, with eme twitch replaced it, mattering over him 
some words which he said were a speciüc eharm for fixing on boards, 
as they should soon sec; and when it was adjusted, the squire remained 
as well bearded and as whole as before. Don (¿uixote was amazed at 
what he saw, and bejtged the priest to teach him that oharm ; for he 
was of opinion that its virtue could not be confined to the refixing of 
beards, because it was clear that where the beard was torn (M, tkc flesb 
must be left wounded and bloody, and, since it wrought a perfect 
cure, it must be valuable upon otliei occasions. The priest said (hat 
his surmise was just, and promised to take tbe first opportunity of 
teaching him the art. Tbey bow agi-eed that tbe priest should mount 
Grst, and that all three should ride by turas until ih^ oaioe to tha 
inn, which was distant about two Icagnes. 

* A uidvonLty of Spnin, now callad Alcalá de Bxanam. 



DoB Quixote, 0)0 princess, and the priest, being thus monnted, 
■Hended bj Cúdeuio, the barber, and Sancho Panza on foot, Don 
Quixote Skid to the damsel : " Your higbncsa will now be plenscd to 
lead on, m wfaAt«f » direction you choose." Before she ooald T«nly, 
the hoenttste útterposÍBft said: "Whither would your Ittd^liip ^r 
To the kingdom of Mioomwon, I presume, or I am mnch miataten." 
Bfae, bnog aware that sho was to answer in the tifitrniatÍTc, said : 
" Yea, si)!iior that kingdom is indeed the place of my destinatian.'' 
"If so," said the priest, " we must pass throngh my native Tillage ; 
aad thence von must )^ straight to Cartha^uEi, where you maj 
anbork ; and, if you have a fair wind, a smooth sea, and do storms, in 
■emewhat less than nine years you will ^et witkin riew of tbe Kicat 
lake of Meona, 1 mean Meotis, which w not nwire than a hundred 
days' joamey from yoor highnese's territories." " You arc mistiiken. 
good sir," said she; " for it is not two years einoe I left H : ana 
Mthoogh I ktd yeiY bad neatherdurinr the whole pas»ge, here I rid, 
and 1 have beheld what so ardently 1 desired to see— Si^or Doa 

Qnixole de la Manchr '■■ ' '— "- ' '^-^ '"'■- 

tnoment 1 set foot ii 

that I might appeal U. , 

to the ¥alont of his invinciblo ai , . ,,.„j, 

Bihuns," said Don Quiiot.e ; " for I am an enemy to every species of 
dstlerji a>d erea this if it be not luch, still are my chsete ears 
o&ndedat this kindof diseourse. All that 1 can say, dear madam, 
is that m» powers, such as ther are, shall be «aployed m yonr serrice, 
even at tae forfeit of my life ; Vmt waving these matters for t!ie pro- 
lent, I beg thu sigasr hcentiote to tell me whut has brought him into 
tiicae parts, done, winttended, and so tightly apparelled." " I etm 
•oonsalisfy your worship," answered the priest ; oar ñiend, Master 
Nichohu, and 1 were going to Seville, to raoeive a legwiy left me bya 
relation n ■lBdia,i«nd no incaníiiderable sum, being siity thousand 
nowns ; and on oar road, ytsterday, we were attacked by fonr hi^ 
■way roboer», who stripped us of all we hod, to our very beards, and 
in guch a manner that ibe barber thoHgbt it expedient to put on a 
Use one ; and for tkis youth here (pointing ta Cardeino) yon see how 
ther have treated him. It i» publidy reported here that those who 
lobbed OS were galle^r'-daves. wt at liberty near this very pkce by a 
man so valiant that in spite of the eoniaussary and hia guards he 
teleased them ali ; but he certainly must have been ont of his senses, 
or as great a. logne ai any of tbein, stnee bo could let loose wolves 
amtm^ aheep, foxes amerw wmKry, and waspa among the honey ; for 
he haa defrauded justice of bet due, and 'has set himself ap agniñst his 
king and natural kird. by acting gainst his lawful anthority. He 
has, I aay, disabled the gallevs of their bands, and disturbed the 
many years' repose of the noly oretherhood ; in a word, he has done a 
deed by which nis body may suffer, and Us sonl be for ever lost," 

Sancho bad communicated the adventure of -the gaUey-slaves, so 
fftoriously achieved by his maeter: and the priest laid it on thus 
heavily to see wha6 effect it would nave «pon Uoa Quiiote ; whoso 
cotour changed at every word, and he dared not confess that he had 
keen the ífeliverer of thoae worthy gentlemen. *"fhese." said the 
priest, " were the persons that robbed us : and God of hia mercy par- 
don him who prevented the punislunent they so richly deserved." 



LiCTTCHTNG in his sleeve, Sancho stúd.assoonas the priest had done 
sjieakinR, " By my troth, BÍifnor licentiate, it was mv master who did 
tnat feat ; not but that 1 gaTe him fair warDinp-, ana advised him to 
mind what he was about, and that it was & sin to set tliem at liberty ; 
fot that thev were all Boing to the palleys for beinp most notorious 
villains," Blockhead!" said Don Quixote, " kníglits-errant are not 
bound to inquirewhethert he afflicted, fettered, and oppressed whomlhey 
meet upon tlie road, are brouffht to that situation by tTieir faults or their 
misfortunes. It is their part to assist them tinder oppression, and to 
resnird tlieir sufferings, not their crimes. I encountered a bead-roll 
and string of miserable wretchea, and acted towards them as my pro- 
fession rei]uired of me. As for the rest, I care not; and wboeier 
takes it amiss, saving the holy dignity of signor the licentiate, and his 
reverend person, I say he knows butlittleof the princijiles of chivalry, 
and Ees in his throat ; and this I will maintain with the edje of my 
Bword!" So saying, he fixed himself firmly in his stirrups and 
lowered his viior ; for Mambrino's helmet, as he called it, hung use- 
less at his saddle-bow, nntil it eould be repaired of the damage it had 
received from the galley-slaves. 

Dorothea was possessed of too much hnmont and sprightly wit not 
to join with the rest in their diversion at Don Quiiote s expense : and 
perceiving hia wrath, she said ; " Sir kulght, be pleased to remember 
the boon you have promised me, and that you are thereby bound not 
to engace in any other adventure, however urgent ; therefore assuage 
your wratli, for had signor tho hcentiate known that the gallev -slaves 
were freed by that invineible arm, he would sooner havesened up his 
mouth with three stitches, and thrice have bitten bis tongue, than he 
would have said a word that might redoimd to the d is para ¡remen t of 
your worship," "By my faith 1 would," exclaimed the priest; "or 
even have plucked off one of my mustaehios." " I will sny no more, 
madiim,"said Don Qaixote: "and I will repress that just indignation 
raised within my breasl.and quietly proceed until Ihavenecomplishcd 
the promised boon. But in requital, 1 beseech you to inform me of 
the particulars of your grievance, as well as the number and quality 
of tne )>ersons on whom I must take due, satisfactorv, and complete 
TeveniTC." " That I will do most willingly," answered Dorothea, " if 
a dediil of my afflictions will not be wearisotne to yon." " Not in tho 
least, my dear madam." replied the knieht. Well, then," said 
Dorothea," jou have only to favour me with your attention." Cardenio 
and the barber now waited hy her side, curious to hear whnt kind of 
story she wo»ld invent. Sancho, who ««"" as mnch deceived as his 
master, did the same; and altera hem or two, and other preparatory 
airs, with much grace she thus began her story : — 



" In the first place, yon mast know, Rentlemen, that my name is" 
—here slie stopped short, hivinij furgotten the name the priest had 
pven her ; but ne came to her aid, saying, " I am not at all surjirised 
at your h¡Kliness's emotion, xtyoa tois recurrence to your misfortunes ; 
for affliction, too often depnies us of the faculty of iiicniory— even 
now, your highness seems to forget that you are the great prineeas 
Mieomiconia." " True bdecd!" answered Dorothea; "butlwiU com- 
mand my distracted thoughts, and proceed in my true tale of sorrow. 

" My father, Tinacrio the Wise, was very learned in the magic art, 
and foresaw by it that my mother, the queen Xaramillo, would die 
before him: that he must soon after depart this life, and that I should 
le thus ktl an orphan. But this, he said, did not trouble him so 
niueh ss the foreknowledge he had that a monstrous giant, lord of a 
great island, borderinii upon our kingdom, called Pandafllando of the 
Gloomy Aspect— foe it is averred that oltliough his eyes stand in their 

5 roper place, he always looks askev, as if he squinted ; and this he 
oes of pure mahgnity, to scare and frighten those he looks at — my 
father foresaw, as I satd before, that this ^ant would take advantage 
of my orphan state, invade tnj kingdom with a niighlv force, and take 
it all from me, without leavmg me the smallest viiluse, wherein to 
hide my head ; but that it was in my power to avoid all tliis ruin and 
misery Dj marrying him, although he could not imagine that I would 
consent to the match— and he was in tiie right ; for I could never 
think of marn'ing this, nor any other giant, hovevcr hu;;e and mon- 
strous, tly father's advice was that when, upon his decease, I'anda- 
filando invaded my kingdom, X should not make any defence, for that 
vonid be my ntin : but, to avoid death, and the total destruction of 
my faitliful and ]oyal subjects, my best way was voluntarilv to iguit 
the kingdom, since it would he impossible for me to dcreiid myself 
against the hellish power of the piant : and immediately set out, with 
a few attendants, for Spain, where I should find a remedy for my dis- 
tress, in a knÍL;lit-errant, whose fame about that time, would extend 
all over that kingdom ; and whose name, if I remember right, was lo 
be Don Axote, or Don Gigsote." " Don Quixote, you mean, madam," 

Sinoth Sancho Pama, " or otherwise called the KniRht of the Sorrow- 
ul Figure." " You are risht," said Dorothea. " He said, further, 
that he was to be toll and thin.visagcd ; and on bis riglit side, under 
the left shoulder, or thereabouts, he was to have a giey mole, with hair 
lite bristles." 

Don Quixote, hearing this, said lo his sfluire, " Come hither, 
Sancho ; help me to strip, that I may know whetlier I am the kni'^'ht 
alluded toin thepropbecyof that sage king." "You need not strip," 
said Sancho; "1 know you have exactly such a mole on the ridge of 
your back — a sure sign of strength." "That is sufficient," said 
Dorothea; "for we must not stand upon trines. It matters not- 
whcllier it h? on the shoulder or on the back-bone ¡—there is a mole, 
and it is all tlie same flesh. Aad doubtless I am perfectly right in 
Tccommen»ling myself to Signor Don CJuixote; for he must he the 
knistit whom my father meant, since it is proved, both by his person 
ana his extraordinary fame, not only in Spain, but over all La 
Mancha : for I was hardly landed in Ossuna before I heard of so 
many of his exploits that I felt immediately assured that he must lie 
the Very ¡lerson whom I came to seek." "But, dear umdiim, how 
came you to land at Ossuna," said Don Quixote, "unoe that is not a 

,..,,.. :A.OOglC 

seaport town ?" Before Dorothea could rep!/, the priest, intFTposfngv 
said : " Duuljtiess the princess would bay tbat, after she hat) landcil 
ftt MaWa, the first plaec where she heañl news of jour worship was 
Ossuna. "Thatis whnti meant loaaf," said Dorothea. " Nothing 
can be more clear," rejoined the priest. "Please your majesty to 

iiroceed." " 1 havelittle more to add," replied DcffOthta, " hut thati 
lavinji now had the good fortune to meet with Signor Don Ouinofe, 
I already look upon myself as queen and mistress of my whole kintp- 
dom, since he out of his coartes/ and generosity, has promised, m 
compliance with my request, to p> with me wherever I please to con- 
duct him ; which shall he only into the presence of PandaflL-indo of 
tJie Gloomy Aspect, that lie may slay him, and restore to me that whiA 
has been so unjustly usurped. Nor is there the smoliest reason to 
donbt bat that all this will come to pass, accordin;; to the prophecy 
of the wise IMnacrio, my g«od father • who, moreover, left an order, 
written cither in ChaWcan or Greek (for I cannot read them), that if 
this knight in his propheey, after cutting off the giant's head, should 
desire to marry me, I must immediately submit to lie his lawful wife, 
and with my jíerson give him also possession of my kingdom." 

" Now, what thjnkcit thou, fricad SancboP" quoth Don Quiiofe. 
"Dosllhoulieartbati' Did not I tcil Ihec so P See whethcrwehaw 
not now a kingdom to command, and a queen to many !" "Odds 
my life 1 so it is," cried Sancho ; ' and plague take him for a son of a 
Blrumpet, who will not many as soon as Signor Pnndafilando's wizen 
is cut. About it then; her majesty's a dainty bit: I wish all the 
fleas in my bed were no worse. And so saying, he cut a couple of 
capers^ and exhtbtted other tokens of delip;lit. Tlien Inring hold of 
the reins of Dorothea's mole, and making tier stop, he fell down upon 
bis knt-^i before her, beseeching her to give bim tier hand to kissj in 
token thai he acknowledged her for his queen and mistresa. M ¡th 
ditRciilty could the rest of the party restrain their laiiitlitrr at the 
madness of the master and the simpUcity of the man. Dorothea held 
ont her hand to him, and promised to make him a great lord in her 
kingdom, when Heaven should be so propitious as to put her again 
in possession of it. Suncho returned her thanks in expressions which 
served to increase their mirth. 

" This, cent lemen," continued DoroHea, " is my history; I hare 
only to add. that of all the attendants I brotisbt with me from my 
kingdom, 1 have none left but this well-bcardcd squire ; for the rest 
were all drowned ia a violent storm which overtook us insight of the 
pott. Re and I got oshom on a conple of planks, as it were by S 
miracle ; and indeed the wliole progress of my life is a miracle and 
mystery, aa you may iiave obserról. And if I have exaggerated, or 
not been so erart-as I ou;rlit to have been, ascribe it, I cnlteat you, 
to what the reverend gentleman said at the beginningofmy narrative, 
tbat eontioual and exlraortünary troubles deprive the sufferer even of 
memory." " Mine sliail never fail me, O most worthy and eialted 
lady ! cried DonQuixoti^ "-whatever I maybe called upon to endure 
in your service. And again I confirm my engagement, and swoar to 
aocompany you to tlie renmtest regions ottlie earth untQ I shall meet 
and grapple with that fierce enemy of yours, whose proud head, by 
the hell) of Heaven and this my strong arm. I wUI out off with the 
edgeot tliis (I will not say good) sword : thanlisbe to Gines dc Pa.'wa- 
uoidjiiWltoCBniedoSmyown." Tbeselastwwdaheuttciediualower 


your dominioiu, the. disposal of your person will be at your o' 

creljon, since, wliilo my memory is cngroased, toy heart eatliralled, 
and my mind subjeclcd to her who— I say no more — it is ijnpossible 
I should prevail upon myself evun to tbiük of marrying, alLtiñugli it 
were a plicmix." 

Don Qoixute's last declaration was so displeasing to Sancho, that^ 
á a great fury, he eiclaimed: "I vow and swear, Si^nor Don 
Qukote, your worship cannot be in your right senses ! How else is 
if possible you should scruple to marry so great a princess ? Do yon 
thtuk that fortune is to offer you at every turn such good Inok as 
this? Is mr liuiy Dulcinea more beautiful P no, indeed, not by half ! 
nay, I conld almost say she ¡a not worthy to tie this iad^r's shoe- 
String. I am like, indeed, to get the earldom if your worship stands 
fchiujf for mnshrooms at the fiottoni of the seal Marry, many at 
once, m the devil's name, and take this kingdom that drops into your 
hand; and when you are a king, make me a marquis or a lord-lieulA- 
nant, and then the devil take the rest 1" Don Quixute, unable to endure 
such blasphemies against his lady Dulcinea, raised Ilia laiicc, and, 
without word or waminir, let it fall with such violence upon Sancho 
that be was laid flat on the ground ; nod had not Dorothea called out 
entreating htm to forbear, tlie squire had doubtless been killed on the 
spot. " Thinkest thou, said Bon Quixote to him, after a short 
pause, " base varlet ! that I am always to stand with my anas folded; 
and that there is to be nothing but tran^rcgsion on thy side^ and for- 
pveness on mine F Expect it not, excommunicated wretch ! for so 
inou surely art, having presumed to speak ill of tlie peerless Dul- 
cinea. Knowcst thou not, rustic, slave, beugar ! tliat were it not for 
the DOwer she infuses into my arm, I should not have enauih to kill a 
fieaP Tell me, envenomed scoffer I who, thinkest thou, has gained 
this kingdom, and cut off the head of tliis giant, and made thee a 
marquis (all of which I look npon as dono), nut the valour of Dul- 
dnea, employing my arm as the instrument of lier exploitsP She 
fights, she vanonisbes in me ; in Ler 1 live and breathe, and of her I 
hold my life and being. 0. base-bom villain ! what ingratitude, when 
thou seeat thyself exalted from the dost of the earth to the title of a 
lord, to makf! BO base a return as to speak contemptuously of the liaoid 
that raised thee." 

Sancho was not so mtich hurt but that he heard all his master said 
to him ; and getting up nimbly, he ran behind Dorothea's palfrey ; 
uid thus sheltered, he said to tnm : " Pray, sir, tell me if you are 
resolved not to marry this princess, it is plain the kingdom wiU not bo 
yours — what favours then will you be able to bestow on me ? That 
b what I complain of. Marry tliis queen, sir, once for «U, now we 
have her, as it were, rained down upon us from heaven, and after- 
wards you may turn to my lady Dulcinea : for there have been kings 
who have }iad mistresses. As to the matter of heanty, I have nothing 
to say to that ; but if I must speak the truth, I realir think them botn 
very well to pass, though I never saw the lady iJaJeinea." " How I 
never sa^ her, blasphemous traitor I" said Don Quixote; " baat 
thou not just brongiit me a mesaage from her ? " " 1 say I did not 
Bee her so leisurek," aúd Sancho, as to take particular notice oí 
her features piece by piece; but lake her altogether, she looks well 

. A.OOgIC 


enonsrh." " Now I pardon thee," said Don Qakote ; " and do thon 
excuse my ii-rath towards thee : for first emotions ire not in our 
power." " So I find," answered Sancbo ; " and in roe the desire of 
talking 13 always a first motion, and 1 cannot forbear uttering at once 
whatever conies to my tongue's end." " Nevertheless," ouoth Don 
Quiiote, " take heed, Sancho, what thou ntterest : for ' the pítclier 
that goes so often to the well'— I say no more." " Well, then," 
answered Sancho, " God is in bcavcn, who sees all gidle, and shall be 
jadge of which does most harm, I, in not speaking well, or your 
worship, in not doing well." " Let there be no more of this," said 
Dorothea: "go, Sancho, and kisa your master's hand, and ask liis 
pardon. Henceforward be more cautious in your praises and dis- 
praises ; and speak no ill of that lady Toboso, of whom 1 know na 
more than that I am her humble servant, Put tout trust in Heaven : 
for you shall not want an estate to live upon lite a prince." Sancho 
went with his head hamming down, and begged his master's hand, who 

E resented it to him with much gisvity ; and when he had kissed it. 
Ion Quiiote gave him his blessing; be then begged that he would walk 
on before with bim, as he wished to put some ijuestiona to him, and 
to have some conversation on affairs of great importance. Havinf 
both advanced a little distance before tbe rest, Don Quiiote said: 

" Since thy return, 1 have had no opportunity to inquire after many 
particulars concemiug thy embassy, and the answer Inou brougbtest 
back: and now that fortune presents a favourable occasion, deny me 
not tee ^tifioatioD which thou art able to bestow by such agreeable 
communications." " Ask me what questions you please, sir," an- 
swered Sancho : " I warrant I shall get out as well as I got in ; but 
I besMch your worship not to be bo revengeful for the future." 
" What dost thou mean, Sancho ? " quoth Don Quiiote. " I say so," 
replied Sancho, " because the blows you were pleased to bestow on 
me just now, were rather on account of the quarrel the devil nised 
between us the other night than for what I said against my lad^ Dul- 
cinea, whom I love and reverence like any relic, though she ¡a ono 
only masmueh as she belongs to your worship." " No more of that, 
Sancho, at thy peril," said Don Quiiote ; " tor it offends me : I for- 
gave thee hdbre, and thou knowest the saying — ' For a new sin a 
new penance.' " At this time thev saw a man coming towards them 
mounted upon an ass, and as he drew near he had the appearance of 
a gipsey. But Sancho I'ania, who, whenever he saw an ass followed 
it with eyes and heart, had no sooner got a glimpse of the roan, than he 
recognised tíines de Fassamonte, and, by the same clue, was directed 
to his lost ass; it being really Dapple himself on which Gines was 
mounted I for in order to escape discovery and sell the animal, he had 
disguised himself like a gipsey, as he could speak their language, 
among many others, as reai£lv aa his native tongiie. Sancho imme- 
diately called out aloud to nim, "Ab, rogue GinesíUol leave my 
darling, let go my life, rob me not of my comfort, quit my sweetheart, 
leave my delight !— fly, rapscallion— fly !— get you gone, thief! ana 
give up what IB not your own." So moch railingwas not necessary; 
tor at the first word Gincs dismounted in a trice, and taking' to bis 
heels, was out of sight in an instant. Sancho ran to bb Dap^e, and 
embracing him, said : " How hast thou done, my dearest D^pl& 


peace, and suffered himtelf to be tlrns iissci aod caressed by Sancho 
without anstrering bim one word. They all cameup, and wished him 
joyoa the restoraltoo of hU Dapple; especiallj Don Quixote, who 
at the same lime assured him that he should not on tnat account 
leroke bis order for the three colts ; for wliich he had Saocho's lieart; 

_ In the mean time the priest commended Dorothea for her ingennitj 
mthecontrivonceof her story, for its conciseness, and ita tesembhince 
to the narrations in books of cflivolry. She said sue had often amused 
herself with such kind of books, but that she did not know much of 
gec^p^phy, and therefore bad said at a venture that she landed at 
Ossuna. So I oonjectured," said the priest; "and therefore I 
corrected your mistake. But is it not straniife to sec how readily this 
unhappy éeotleman believes all these fictioQS, onlv because they 
Tésemele the et)ie and manner of his absurd books P "It is indeed 
extraordinary," said Cardenio, "and so unnrecedented that I mncli 
question whether any one conld be found possessed of insenni^ 
enough to invent and fabricate such a character." " There is another 
thii^ remarkable," said the priest, "which is, that except on that 
particular subject, this icood ^utleman can discourse very rationaUjr. 


Thkt were thus pnTsoing their conversation while Don Quixote 
proceeded in his with Sancbo. " Let us forget, friend Pama, whc^ ia 
past ; and tell me now, all rancour and animoaity apart, where, how, 
aiid when didst tbon nnd Dulcinea P What was she doing P What 
didst thou say to her P What answer did she return P How did she 
look when she read my letter F Who transcribed it for thee Í Tell 
me all that is worth knowing, inquiring, or answering. Inform me of 
all, without adding or diminiahing aught to deprive me of any satis- 
faction." " Sir," answered Sancho, " to say the truth, nobody tran- 
scrilted the letter tor me j for 1 carried no letter at all." Tboa 
■ayeat true," qnoth Don Quixote, "for I found the pocket-book in 
which I wrote it two days after thy dcpariiure ; whicn troubled me 
exceedingly; and I thought tbon wouldst return for it." "So I 
shonld have done," answered Sancho, " had I not got it by heart 
when your worship read it to me ; and so perfectly that I repeated it 
to a parish derk, who wrote it down so exactlv that he aoii^ thon^ 
he had read many letters of exoommnnicatioD, De had dctct m all hii 
life seen or read so pretty a letter." " And hast thoa it still by 
beart, SanohoP" said I^oa Qnixoie. "No, air," answered Sancho; 
" for after I had dehvered it, seeinK it was to be of no further ub& I 
forgot it on purpose. If I reneniW anything, it is 'subterrane, I 
n mn ™ ' toTereigu ' lady, and the conclnsion, ' tÜine until death, the 

'1 A.OOgIC 

Knight of the SotTovfulFigiue:' uid between these two Üún^ I put 
aboTR tliree huiidred eooia, md lives, and dear eyes." 

" This is vet)' well— proceed," sua Don Quixote. "On thy arnral, 
what was tbut queen of beauty doing F I suppose thou foundest her 
strínsing pearls, or enibroideniig some dcTicewith threads of sold fot 
this Eer captive knight." " No, faith !" aniwered Sanciio ; "I fonnd 
her winnowins two bushels of wheat in a iMicli-yard of her house." 
"TUen be assured," said Boa Quiiote, " that the grains of that wheat 
were so many grains of pearl, when toached by her hands. And 
didst thou observe, friend, whether the wheat was fine, or of the 
ordinary sort?" "It was neither," answered Sancho, "but of the 
rcddbh kind." " llely upon it, however," quoth Don Quixote, " that 
when winnowed by her hands ii made tl:^ nnest nianchet bread— hat 
go oa. M^licn thou gavest her my letter, did she kiss it P Did she 

f)ut it upon lier bead J' Uid she use aKy ceremony worthy oF such a 
otter P — or what did she do ?" " When I was going to gice it to 
¡ler," answered Sancho, " she was so busy winnowing a good sieve- 
full of Che wheat, that ahs said to dib. ' Lay the letter, friend, npon 
that sack; for 1 ca ' ' > until I have done what I am about.'" 

"Discreet lady I" ¡uixote; "this was assuredly that she 

might read and ei siiore 1 Proceed, Sancho - while thus 

employed, what di she with thee P— what did she inquire 

concerning me? idat thou answer? Tell me all; omit 

not the slighteat e.'' "She asked me nothing," said 

Sancho ¡ " bul It r your worship was doing peuance, for 

her service, among s, naked from the waist upwards, just 

hke a savage^ sleeping on the ^o'und, not eating bread oa a napKui, 
nor oombingyour Vard, weeping, and cursing your fortune." " In 
saying that I cursed my fortune, thou saidst wrong," quoth Don 
Quixote: "Iratber bless it, and shall bless it all the da^ of my life. 
for having made me wortliy to love so high a lady as Dulcinea del 
Toboso." " So liigh, indeed," answered Sand», " that in good faith 
she is a baud taller than I am." " Why, how ! Sancho," said Don 
Quixote, " hast thou measured with her ?" " Yes," answered Sancho ; 
" for as I was helpiug her to put a sack of wheat upon an ass, wo 
came so close together that I noticed she was taller than 1 by more 
than a full span." "True," replied Don Quixote, "and is not this 

. , , . , , IF her, thou mnst hava 

perceived a Sablean odour, an aromstic fragrance, a Bomething sweet, 
for which I oaoiiut find a name— « scent, a perfume— as if thou wert 
in the shop of sume curious glover." " All I can say is," qnolh 
Sancho, " that I perceived eomen-hat of a stron? smell, which must 
have been owing to the sweat she whs in with hard work." "Im- 

Cible!" erica I)wi Quixote; "that smell must have proceeded 
I thyself: forwelll know the scent of that lovely rose amoiw 
thorns, that lily of the valley, that liquid amber." "Very likelj'," 
answered Sandio ; "forthevervsaniesmell often comes ftwm me whteh 
melhought then came from my lady Dulcinea : but wbere's the wonder 
that one devil should he hke anotherF", "Well, then," eontinned 
Don Quixote, " she baa now done winnowing, and the com is sent to 
the mill. ^Vliat did she do when she had read the letter ?" " The 
letter," quoth Sancho, " she did not read ; for she said that she eould 
neither read nor write; ao she tore it to pieces, saving she vouldnot 


_, , .0 read, that ber secrets mi), 

Qtage ; Mid that vhat I had told Iter b; vord of muuth 

jour worship's love, and a" ' " ' ' ' 

b; and ahebid me tell yoa 

bands, and that she vould rather si , . , . 

begt^d and comnianded ;oii, at sight liercof, to qnit those brakes and 

busliea, and leave off tlieae foolish pranks, and set out immediately for 

Toboso, if bosiaesB of more coDseqnence did not preri^nt jou; lor ahe 

irislied mightily to sea your vorship. She laughed heartily, wliea I 

told her how vou oalled jouraelf the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure. 

lask^ ber whetlier the £isoajan had been there with her; she told 

mc he bad, and that be wm a verr good kind of fellow. I asked her 

abo after ine galley-slaves, but she had not yet seen any of them." 

"Ail this is well," said Dun Quiiote;" but, tell me, what jewel did 

she preaest tliee with at thj' departure, in return for the tidmgs tbou 

badst bmusht ber? for it la au ancient uQd universal custom among 

inights and ladies-errant to bestow some rich jewel on the squires, 

damsels, or dwarfs «ho brins them news of their mistresses or kniglits, 

at a reward or acknowledgment for their welcome inlelligeuce. 

" Very likely,", quoth Sancho, " and a good custom it was ; but it 

of vore, for now-a-days the custom is to ^ive 

1 cEeese, for that was what my lady Dulcinea 

of Che yard, when sbe dismissed me; and, by 

made of sheep' s-milk." "She is eitrcmelr 

ixote ; " and if she did not give thee a jeivel, 

JO she had none about ber ; but ^ts arc good 

ee ber, and all will then be rectified. 

thing, Sancho, which is, that than must have 

>nsh the air; for thou hast been little more 

forming this joumey, although the distance 

Toboso is more than thirty leadles ; whence 

e enchanter who baa the super! uteadcnce oC 

one there is, or I ahonld be no trae kiii;;bt- 

e enchanter ranst have expedited thy journey; 

> ¥rill t^e up B knleht-emmt sleeping in his 

lowing anything of the matler, he awakes the 

nd ieajfucs from the place where he fell asleep. 

_ it wonld be impossible for knights-errant to 

succour each other, as they often do, in the critical moment of danger. 
A. knight, fm in^mce, baopena to be fighting in the mountains of 
Armenia with acme iteadíür monster, or ueroe ^blin, or some other 
knigbt ; he has the worst of the combat, and is just npon the point of 
being ulled, when sudde^ another knight, bis frieod. who perhaps 
a moment before was in £agland, cornea upon a cloud, or in a fiery 
ebanoL and rescues him &¿m death ; and on tbe same evening he 
finds himself in hia own chamber, aappisg vitb a good appetite, after 
ajouroej of two or three thousand ieagnea. And all this is effected 
tv the diligence and skill of those aagd enchuiten. So that, friend 
Sancho, X make no difficulty in believing that tbon hast really per- 
formed tbe journey in tliat short time ; luiving, doubtless, been borne 
onconsciouály thiougb the air by some fioendly power." " It may be 

>Tarbial expreadnn, ngui^ing Uiat a good lUng ti alwayi 


163 COH quiKon. 

80, f|notli Sancho; "for, in good faith, Roiiianl^e went like «nr 
Bohemian's ass wilti quicksilver in his ears." • " With qnicVailver,*' 
said Don Quixote ; "ay, and with a legionoi devils to boot; asortof 
cattle that travel and make others travel as fast aa the)' please vritb- 
ont hems tired. But waiving this aubiect for the present, what 
thinkest thou 1 should do respecting dit lady's orders that I sbould 
wait upon her P 1 am hoond to ooey ner commands, yet bow is it 
possible, on account of the boon I have promised to the princess f 
The laws of chivalry oblife me to consider mr honour ral her than my 

fileasore. On the one hand, I am torn witn impatience to see niy 
ndy — on the other, I am incited by elorj to the accomiilishment of 
this enterprise. My best plan, Ibeucve, «■ill he to travel with all 

{lossible expedition, cut off the giant's head, replace the princess on 
ler throne, and then inatantlv rcfum to that sun which illuniiues my 
BCTises, who will pardon a delay which was only to augment her feme 
and dory ¡ since all my victories past, present, nod to come, are but 
emanations from her favour." 

" Alack ! " cried Sancho, " your worship mnst needs be (townrieht 
craiy! Tell me, pray, do you mean to take this jonmey for nothing? 
And will you let slip such a match as this, when the dowry is a king- 
dom which, they say, is above twenty thousand leagues round, ana 
abounding m all tliintts necessarv for the support of lifp, anri bi^'ger 
than Portugal and Castile tosether f For the Inve of Heaven, talk 
no more in this manii<:r, hut follow my advice, and be married out of 
hand at the first place where there is aprieüt; our licentiate here «ill 
do it very dcveriy. And please to recollect, I am old enough to give 
advicei and what I now give is as fit as if it were cast in a mouia for 
you : for a sparrow in the hand is worth more than a bustard on the 
wing : and he that will not when he may, when he would lie shall 
have nay." "Hear me, Sancho," rephed Don Qimtofe, "if thou 
adviseat me to marry, only that I mav nave it in my power to reward 
tliee, be assured that I oan gratify tty desire without taking suii a 
measure ; before the battle I will make an agreement to possess part 
of the kingdom without marr jmg the nrinoess ; and when I liave it to 
whom dost thou think I shaJl give it Bnt to thyself? " " Ño doobt" 
«nawered Sancho ; " but pray, sir, take care to choose it towards the 
sen, that, if I should not like living there, I may islirp off my black 
subjects, and dispose of them, as I said before. I would not have 

fftBT worship Ironble yourself now about seeing my lady Duicinoa, 
at go and kill the giant, and let ua make an end of this businesi : 
for, before Heaven, Ivenly believe it will bring us much honour ana 

irofit." " Thou art in the right, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " and 
shall follow thy oomsel, and accompany the princesa before I visit 
my lady Dnldnea, But I beg thou wik say nothing on the subject 
C* oor conference, not even to our companions ; for smoo Dulcinea is 
■0 reserved that she would not have her thoughts known, it would bo 
improper in me or in any other person to reveal them." " jt s«^" 
quoth Sancho, " why does your worship send ail those you conquer 
by jourmi^ty arm, to present themselves before mr Udy Zhiicinea, 
for this ia giviog it nndra your band thai you are mWe witiihcrF 

* In alluaioD to a triok praotlsed by tlw Bohemlwi bonfi'dMJeni, who, to 
gira pacas to Uto moat Bti^id muta, or to Uw tdlcM tm, war* in tba Iiabll 
9f pouring a anmil quantity of quiaoUver into it* wa. 



'BfnrduUffiiil nnnrie tliou art!" said Don Qniiole. "Seest thon 
act, Sancho, that «U this redoand» the mni'c to her exaltation ? For 
thou must know that, in this our style of ehiralry, it is to the honour 
of a ladr to have many kniahts-prrant, who serve her merely for her 
owK sake, withuut hid\it^n!( a hope of any other rnvftrd for t neir ztal 
thaa tlie honour of being admitted amouz the nambeTorher kiii|;hta." 
" I have heard it pceoched," quoth Sancho, " that God ia to bo 
lOTed vith t)(>s kind of love, for Himself alone, without our being 
moved to it b; hope of reward or fear of punishment j though, for my 
part, I am inelined \a love and serse Him for wiial Uv. is able («i do 
for me." " 'iiie devil take thee for a bumpkin," uid Don Quixote ; 
" thon Mjest ever and anon etich apt thing's that ojie would atnmet 
think thee s schotar." "And yet, bj injr faith," quoth Sancho, " I 
camot BO niDch m read." 

While they «ere thns talking, Master Nicholas called aload to 
tbem to stop, IB they wiabed to quench their thiist at a small spring 
near the road. Uon Quixote halted, muoh ta Ae Bntisfaotiuii of 
Sandio, irh» bf«an to be tired of telling so mai» lies, and «as afr^iid 
his vaastn should at last oatch him tripping : for allhoii;;h lie kiitvr 
Dulcinm was a peasant-pii i>f Toboso, he had never seen her iu his 
life. MeuLwhile, Gardenia had pat on the clotliea vom by Dorothea 
in her dissmise, being better than his own. T hev alighted at the 
fosnUin, and with the provisions which the córate had brought from 
the inn, they all appeased their hmgier. 

Whili! they were thus employed, a lad happened to paas that way, 
irhn, aft«r íoalcing aaraestly at the party, ran up to Don Quixote, and, 
etnwaein;^ he knees, bei^iinto weep, saying: "Ah, dear sir 1 does sot 
jour worship know meP Look at me well: lamAsdrcis, the lad 
whom you delirered from tlie oA to which I was tied," Don Quiiot« 
teooliected bira, and, takin;; him bv the hand, ho thus addressed the 
eompBuy ; " To convince you of tfte importanee of knights-errant in 
tke wond, in order to redress the wrongs and injuries committed by 
insolent and wicked men, know that some time since, as 1 was pasung 
a wood, I heaid certain sies, and tke voice of some person iu afftio- 
tion siui distress. Pnmpted by my duty, I hastened towards the 
tdace whence the voice seemed to oome, and I found, tied t^ an oat, 
this Ud whom yon see here. I am rgoiced to my soul that he is pre- 
sent, for he will attest the tmth of whet I tell you. He was bound, 
1 ny, to an oak-tree, naked from ^e wust upward, wd a coantry- 
JTdlow, whom I afterwards found to be his master, was huliini; bim 
with a bridle. I immediately demanded Um reason of so severe a 
•tuutisBment. The down uiawered that he was bis servant, whom 
ke was poniihiiig for nedcot, proceeding rather from knavery thnn 
■inptimty. ' Sir,' aud the boy, ' be whips me only beemse 1 aak him 
for my wafres.' The master, in repi}', made many íípeeches and 
eicusea, wojoh I heard indeeo. but dtd not admit. In sBort, I oom- 
nelled him to unbind the youth, and made him awear to take him 
Innw, aut pa* erery reel, petfained into the bargain. Is not all this 
trne, son Awsea t Didst thou not observe with what authority I 
eammanded, and with wliat humility he promised to do whatever I 
enjoined, notiflod, and required of him F Answer boldly : reUte to 
thia eoR^MBy what passed, tliat tbey mH see tJie henefito resulting 
from tiia TOe«tÍDii «f ki^hts-eiTant," 'All that your worship hat 
(■id ia TOT true," ansvnal the lad ; "bat the husmeas ended ^uite 

»3 . r , ■X.OOg\C 

lU ro» quixoTK. 

contrftrj to what yonrworslupsuiipiwes." "HoWjCOntraryf" replied 
Don Quixote; "aid not tlie rustic iustaotly pay tlice?" "He ni* 
only did not pay me," answered the boy, " but as soon as your worship 
was out or the wooa mid we were left alone, be tied me again to ihe 
same tn e, imd gnvc me so many ftesh lasties tliat 1 tras flaved like 
any Saint Bartbcilomew; and at ever; stroke he said sometliinir by 
way of scoff or ¡est upon jour worsliip, which, if I had not felt so 
much pain, would have made me laa!:h. In short, be laid on in such 
a manner inat I have been ever since in a hospital, to gtt cured of 
the bruises that crui'l fellow (hen gftTe me: for all which your 
worship is to blame, for had you pone on jour way, and not come 
when you were not called, nor meddled with other folks' business, 
my master would have been satisfied with givin^ me a dozen or two 
of laslics, and then would have loosed me, and paid me my due. But, 
BB vour worship abused hiu) so unmercifully, and called him so many 
bad names, his wj'ath was kindled ; nnd, not bavins it in his power 
to be revenged on you, no sooner had you left him than he diseoarKed 
such a tempest upon me that I shall never be a man again while 1 

" The mischief," si my departing before I 

had seen yon paid ; i, b^ long experience, 

that no rustic will ki t his interest to break 

it. But thou maycs! I swore it he paid Ihee 

not I would hunt hii concealed in a whale's 

■ belly." "That is ti ; it signified not bins." ■ 

"Thon shalt see thai 1 so aayini;, he started 

,., and ordered Si :e, who was gn^ziug. 

lorothea asked him F lie told her that he 

was goiii9 in search : him for hís base con- 

duct, and make hin farlhing, in spite and 

defiance of all llie m Jesired he would recol- 

lect that, according to the promised boon, lie could not engage in any 
other adventure until hers bad been accomplished ; and, as no one 
could be more sensible of this than himself, slie entreated him to curb 
his rescntnient until his retnmfrom her kingdom. "You are right," 
answered Bon Quixote; "and Andres must, as you say, madam, llave 
patience until m^ return : and 1 again swear not to rest uutil he is 
revenged and paid." " I do not think much of these oaths " said 
Andres ; " I would rather have wherewithal to carry me to ScviUo 
than all the revenues in the world. If you have anytbingtogiTeiiielo 
ent^ let me have it, and Heaven be with your worship, and with all 
knights-errant, nnd may tbev prove as lucky errant^ to themselves as 
they have been to me." Sancho jpulicd ont a piece of bread and 
cheese, and, giving it to the lad, said to him : " Here, brother Andres, 
we have all a share iu your misfortune." " ^liy, what share have you 
in it ?" said Andres. " This piece of bread and cheese which 1 give 
70U." answered Sancho, " God knows whether I may not wont it 
myself; for I would have you know, friend, that we squires to 
knigiits-errant arc subject to much hunger and ill-luck, and other 
things too, whieh are better felt than told." Andres tool the bread 
and cheese, and, seeing that nobody else gave him anything, he made 
his bow and marched off. It is true, ne said at parting to Don 
Quixote : " For the love of Heaven, siñior knight-errant, if you ever 
meet me neain, though you see me beaten to piecea. do not come with 

, , . .A.OOgIC 


THE EHionr betübnh to the mv. 16B 

font help, but leave me to my fate, which cannot be so bnd but (Iiat 
It will be mude worse by jour worship, whom Giid confound, loirfttlicr 
TTth all the knights-errant that ever were born !" So sayhis, he r:ui 
off with ao mueb speed that nobody atleinpted to follow hliii. Don 
Quixote was muen abaslicd at this affair of Aodre», and" ¡us com- 
panions endeavoured to testrain their inelioatíOD to láu^jh, thu,t tlief 
niglit not put him quite out of oounteiuuioe. 


WAiek treat* iff nlhia l^A Do» («¿cob ami hit ornpany ol Vie inn. 

IiEAvrao the fountain, nfter harini made a hSiirty TC[jast, tbcr 

forthwith monnted, and without encountering any aiivcniure worth 

relatinir, arrived the next day at the inn so inueh the dread and 

terror of Sancho Panza, who now, much against liis will, was obliged 

to enter it. The hostess, tbc host, tbeir daugbter, and Maritornes, 

sceitis- Don Quixote tmd nis squire, went out to meet and welcome 

them. The knight received them with a grave, but upproving 

'«tier bed than tfiey bad 

swcred, that provided he 

k'ould eet him a bed for a 

m by his promises, tbey 

jame apartment which he 

1 shattered lioth in body 

dawD upon it. He was 

stass fell upon the barbet 

Faith, you shall use my tail 

In, for my husband's comb 

e batlieT would not part 

ie told Ikim that }ie nil? lit 

' need of tlutt artiScc, he 

tell Don Quixote ttiat, 

cd to this inn ; and ¡f bs 

lid say she liad despatched 

eta of her approach with 

irber williu!;!/ surrcudcred 

6 other ulichis she had 

■!» enlar;Km(-»t. All the 

beauty of D<irolhca, and 

est orden-d llicm to jret 

t, hoj)in!r to be well paiiL 

1 Quixote still continuea 

for at that time he had 



ndvi-tif arc «llli the cairier, and also tfae whole star; of the blanle^ 
at uliich llii'v ncrc not a Irltle dÍTerted. The priest happeamg to 
remiu'k tbat ihc books of cluTaliy which Doo Qnixote had read had 
tumi-d hb brain, the iimkeeper said, "I caimot conceive how that 
can be; 'for, reaily, in my opinion, there is no choicer reading in 
the world. I have three or lour of them by me, with some muía- 
scri])ts, vhieh ¡n good trnth have kept me alire, and man; otbeia; 
for, in Wvest time, among the reapers who take shelter here durine 
flic noonday heal, there is alwavs some one able to read, who will 
take up one of these books; loa alwre thirty of us plaee onraelTcs 
around him, and listen to nim wiili so much plcasore that it keeps 
away a thnuiuind grey hairs : at least, I can say for myself that when 
I hear of those furious and tarrlbie blows which the k nigh cs-et rant 
ky on. llnnjtio be doinE as much, and could sit and hear them day and 
niiibt." " I wiiJi j-ou did," quoth the bostes» ; " few I never havs a 
guiet moment in my house but when yon are listening to the read- 
ins; for ji<a are then so besotted that yon forcct lo scold." 
" Ics, indeed," &aid Maritomes, " and in good faith 1 too Hkc mnch 
to hear those things ; for they are rery fine, espeowlly when they tell 
us how sucb a lady and her knight lie embraebg each other under an 
ornngc-trce, and how a duenna stands upan tlie wateh, dying with 
envy and her heart i^iiig pit-a-pat. I say all this is pure liuney." 
"And pray, jouujt diiinst!, what is your opinion of these matters?" 
(aid the pnest, sildressiuj; himself to the innkeeper's daughter. " I 
do not know, iudeeil, sir," answered the girl : " 1 listen, too ; and 
though I do not undn-stand, I take some pleasure in hcanni; yet 
truly these blows and sInshc^ which please my father so much, are 
not lo my nind. I like the complaints the knights make -nhen the; 
are absent fiom their mistresses; and really sometimes they make 
me weep for ¡lity." 

" Tlicn you would soon afford tbem relief, young gentlewoman," 
anid IJorothcn, " if they wept for jon P" I do not know what I 
should do," answered the girl; "I only know that some of those 
Indies are so cmel that their knighta calf them tigers and lions, and a 
thousand other ugly names. And, Jesu! I cannot imagine whid 
kind of folks Ibey mast he who are so hard-hearted and uncon- 
scionable tbat rutncr than bestow a kind look on an honest gentle- 
man, they will let him die or run mad. For my part, I cannot »ea 
any reason for so mncb ooyness : if they would behave like honest 
women, let them marry them; for that is what the gentlemen would be 
at." * ilohl yonr ton?De, hussey," said the hostess ; " methinksycra 
know a iireat deal of tíieae matters : it does not become ycnnff 
maidens to know or talk so much." Wlien this gentleman askcu 
me a civil question/' replied the giri, "I could do no lesa, snre, than 
answer bim." " Well, welL" said tee priest ; " but praT, landlord, 
let ns sec those books." "With all mv heart," answered the hosti 
and goiog into his chamber, he brought out an old trunk, with a 
padlock and chain to it, and opening it he look ont Ibree large 
Tolumes, and some manuscript papers written in a veri fair ch». 
racter. The first book which he opened he found to be Don Ciron- 
pilioofThrace, theneit, Fi'liimarteoi Hyrcania, and thdhirdthe 
uislorv of the Grand Captam Gómalo Homandei of Ckirdora, with 
the life of Diego Garcia de Paredes. Alhen the priest had read thet 
title* of the two first, he turned to the barber, and said: "We wont 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

DiGcraiOH AT XHE iiiir. 1(17 

kere our fricml's boasekeeMr and niece." " Not at all," repliud 
(lie biU'bcr: " for I mjsea caa carry tlicoi to tlie jard, or to the 
cliiumey, woere there la a very good fire." " Wliit, sir, would jou 
dura my liocJu f" aái the iuukeejicr. " Ou1y these two," said the 

triest, 'D<¡n Cironsilio and Febsmarte." What, then, arc my 
■mIíí heretical or idilesmaticsl, that you want to bum them? 
" Schisntatical, you would say, my friend," said the barber, " and not 
phletniiatica!." " Yes, yes, replied tlie iunteepcr : " but if you 
iDleud to bunt any, let it be tbb of the great Captain, and Die^ de 
Gaiiña : for I will sooner let you burn one of my children than either 
of tho olliers." "Brotíier," said the priest, "these two books are full 
of extravuKint fictions and absurd ounceita ; wliereaa tlie history of 
'th? great Capt.'iin' is matter^ fact, and contains the exploits of 
Gonzalo Ilerauudezof Cordova, who fur his numerous brave aetiona 
acquired all over the woiid the title of the great Captain— a name 
rcuuKued and iUustrious, and merited by him alone. As for Die^ 
Garcia de Farades, he was a distin~uislicd gentleman, born in tue 

fc™ of Tiuxilla ui Est remadura ; a brave soldier, and of so much 
lily strength that he could stop a niill-wb.eel in its roost rapid 
(notion with a single finger. Bt'iug once posted with a two-handed 
sword at the eutraucc upon a bridge, be repelled a prodigious army, 
and prevented their passage over it. Tlicie arc other exploits of the 
same kini^ whicli, if instead of bein^ related by himself with ths 
OiDdestyof a eavsLcr wlio is his own historian, they had been recorded 
t)y some otjicr dispassiouate and unprejudiced author, would have 
eclipsed the aetioosof thollectors, Achilfesea, and Orlandos." "Pec- 
tuade my grandiiiothcr to that," guolh the innkeeper : " do but sea 
That it is he wonders at— thostOMiing of amill-wheel! Before Heaven, 
jour worship should read what I have read, concerning Felixmart« 
«f Hyrcania, who witli one b»ek-Etroke cut asunder Sve giants 
through the middle, as if they had been so many bean-cods of which 
tile dJiíldr»! make puppet- friars. At another time, he encountered a 
great and powerful army,^t)iig of about a million six hundred 
tJiouaaad loldiera. tH armed from head to foot, aad routed them as if 
ihey had been a iitck. of sheep. But what vill vou say of the good 

f)on Ciron^iliaof Thrace F who «as so stout and valiant, as you ma; 
here read in the book, that once as he was sailing on a river, seeing 
the«urfeceof the water he immediately threw 
cttiHK astride its scaly ^oolders, squeezed ib) 
haoEU with so much force that the serpen!^ 
r of being chokei^ had no other remedy but to 
)f tlie ñvet, carrymg with him the knient, who 
i ; fod «hú they readked the bottom, he found 
Balsieo and beautiful garden^ Uiat it was won- 
3ie serpent tumod into an old man, who said so 
at the like was never beard ! 'I'herefore pray 
f you were but to hear aU tiia, you would nm 
L fig for the grand C^tain, and your Diego 

Dorothea, aeie whispering to Cardeoio, said, " Onr landlord wants 
but little to make the second part of Don Quixote." " I tljink so 
(oo," answered Cárdenlo ; " far he evidently lakes all that is related 
in tliese Iwoks for p^JspeL and tlie bare-foot«d friars themselves could 
¿oí make him believe ouerwise." " Look you, brother," taid the 
,, ..A.OOgIC 

16S noü quTxoTZ. 

Siest, " there nerer was in the world snnh a man as relijiniarte of 
yrcania, nor Don Cironsilio of Thrace, nor anf other knighla nien- 
tioaed in booka of chivalry ; for all is the invention of idle ^ta, vbo 
composed them for the purpose of that «muicment wliiob jou saj 
Tonr readers Bud in them. I swear to jou there never were aucb 
Inichts in the world, nor were such fests and eitravaptnccs ever 
performed." " To another dog with that bone," answered the hust : 
what then ! I do not know bow nmnv make ñve ; nor where mv 
own shoe pinches ? Do not tbink, sir, that I am now to be fed wilt 
pap ; fur, before Heaven, I am no suckling-. A fine jest, indeed, that 
your worship should endearonr to make me believe that the contents 
of these good books, printed with the license of the kind's privy- 
council, are all extravagant fables ; as if they would allow tlie print- 
ing of a pack of liea ! " I have already told ynn, friend," replied 
the priest, " that it is done for the amosement of onr idle thoughta ; 
and as in all well-instituted commonwealths the games of clicss, 
tennis, and billiards are permitted for the entertainment of those who 
have nothing to do, and who onght not or cannot work, for the same 
reason they permit such books to be published; presumbs, aa they 
■well mav, tliat nobody (an be so ii^norant as to take tttem for trnlh ; 
ftnd if tins had been a seasonable time, I conld lay down such n))es 
for the composing booka of ebivalry u should, perhaps, make Ihrm 
not only ^treeable but even nsetul ¡ however, I hope an opportnnily 
nay offer tor mo tocommnt' " " ' ' ibe 

power to tnm them to accoi oka ; 

and if you will not trust my i their 

truth or fiction as you picas and 

Heaven grant yon holt not Dm 

Quixote." " Not so " answ le lO 

mad as to turn kment-erran S «re 

altered since those famong ki 

Sancho entered dnrii^ this i etl A 

hearing that knigbts-emnt w ooks 

of diivalry were mere liea aw Ajeá 

to wait the event of liis mast , if it 

was not successful, to leave 1 and 

ohiidren, and to bis accustomed Isbotur. 

The innkeeper was carrying away the bo^, when fte priest isáa 
to him; "Pray, itop till 1 liave looked at those papers which ara 
written in so tair a character." The host took them out, and having 
nven them to htm, be found abont eight sheets in manuscript, with a 
trge tillepagi^ on wiiich was written, "The Novel of the Curious 
Imnortinent/* Tlie priest having read three or four linea to himself, 
aaia: "In truth, I do not dislikethe title of this novel, and Ifeel dis- 
posed to read the whole." " Your reverence will do well," answered 
the innkeeper ; for I assure you tbst some of my gnesta who have read 
it liked it mightily, and earnestly be(«!ed it of me ; hut I would not 
give it them, meaning to restore it to the person who left behind 
Km the portmanteau with these books and papers. Perhaps their 
owner may come this way again some time or other; and tnongh I 
shall feel the loss of the books. I will Éiithfnlly reítore them ; for 
though I am an innkeeper, thank Heaven I am a Chnstían." " Ton 
are much in the right, friend," said the priest ; " nevertheless, if the 
novel pleases me, yoa must give me lene to take ■ copy of it." 

' "ths cüuoub nmRnKZHi." 169 

"With all D» heart," answered tba mnkeeper. In the mean time 
Cardeuio had taken np the sorel, and bein^ likewise pleased with 
what be saw, be requested the priest to read tt aloud. I will," said 
the priest. " anie&s you think we had better spend our time in sleep- 
ing-l^ " 1 would rather listen to some tale," said Dorothea ; " for my 
spirits are not so tranquil as to allow me to sleep." Jlaster Nicholas 
and Sancho Expressed the same inclination. " Well; then," said thn 
priest, " I wijj read it ; for I myself feci a little oariosity, and possibly 
it ma^ rield us some amusement. So listen to me, good people, for 
thos it begins!— 


In tchM it rieüed Ua oowl <¡f " Tht Ouríeta InptrtiiuTit." 

In Florence, a rich and famova citj| of Italy, in the province called 
Tuscan;', liTcd Anselmo and Lothario, two eentlemcn of nuik and 
fortune, and so united in friendship, that by all who knew them tliey 
were distinguiabed by the appelktion of the IVo Friends. They wem 
both unmarried, and of simdar e^ and dispoeition. Ans(-lmo was 
indeed somewhat mora inclined to amorous pleasures than Lothario, 
who ^re the preference to country sports; but each would occasion- 
ally neglect his own favourite pursuits to follow those of his friend ; 

t their inclinations as hannonioualy req^ilated as the 
01 a Clock. It so happened that Anselmo (ell desperately in 1 
a beautiful voung lady of condition in the same city, named Camilla : 

«lo !<<■ .ui%.[Tcd, with the approbation of his friend Lothario, without 
which he did nothing, to demand her Id mámate of her father. He 
employed Lothario in the affair, irtio maiiaged it mncb to his satisbo- 
iion, for in a short time he found himself in possession of the object of 
bis HfTcction: and Lothario received the warmest acknowled^sientl 
¿on both for his friendly mediation. 

For some days after the marriage— davs nsnally dedicated to fes- 
tivity — Lothario frequented as nsual his friend Ansclmo's honse ; but 
tíie nuptial season oei^ig x»ai, and compliments of congratulation 
over, liothario began to remit the fret^uency of his visits to Anselmo; 
discreetly thinking it improper to visit friends when married as often 
¿ough true friendship) is not sos- 
' of a husband, that it is liable V> 
Dre by a friend. Anschno observed 
ined of it ; teUing him that be would 
lected that it would occasion any 
rcourse ; and he entreated him to 
' terms of familiarity, asaaring him 
Irishes on the snhjeot entirely oor- 
lario replied with mncb prudence 
nselmo, and at length induced him 
t be wonid dine with him twice a 
I, however, resolved to obaerre thia 
lid find consistent with the bonou 
,, ..A.OOgIC 

of his ñiend, «bote reputation was no le» dear to bim than hia ovn!. 
UeiusÜy thoiwlit that a man on whom Heaven has bestowed abeaii' 
tiful wife shoula be as cautious respecting the fríende he iutroduces 
at home ta to ber femsle acquaintance sitroitá ; for what cannot be 
oonoerted at the uiaiket-pUce, at obnrcb, or at public assembbcs, mar 
be eaüily effected hy the ossistanoe íA some female relative or conü- 
dential friend. At the same liitie, he ackiuwledged timt a hnsband 
often required the admonition or interfereaoe of a friend, in case of 
any iuadverteucyor want of prudence in a wife, vhiái biaoirnaíFcc^tiaa 
nught cause bim to orerloolc. But vhecc is Ansebno to ¿ud such an 
adviser, ao discreet, so futbful, and sincere, unless it be in Lothario 
himself? — who, withtho utmost diligence and attention, watched over 
the honour of hb friend, and contrived to retrench, cut short, and 
abridge tbe number of appoiotedvisiting-dayB, lest the iiue and malicious 
should censure the free access of a youn;;, rich, and accomplislied 
cavalier like himself to the bouse of a beuitiful woman bkc Camilla. 
And though bis known íute^ity and woilh might bridle the tonguM 
of the censorious, yet he Taa unwilling that bis own honour or tliat 
of his friend should be b tbe least suspected. Most of the days, 
therefore, on which be bad agreed to visit him he employed in oon- 
oems which he pretended were indispensable : and thus gave occaaioti 
for friendly complaints on one side^ and eicuaea on tbe other. 

One day, as they were walking in the fields together, Anselmo said 
to bis frieod: "1 am sensible, J»tlutrio, that X oau never be suffi- 
eiently grateful to God for the blessiuxa he has bestowed c« me in 
¡tiving me such escellentjtarent^and toe goods of nature and fortune 
in abundance ; and especially in having bieaeed me with auoh a friend 
«a yourself, and laeh a wife as Caniilm ; treasures which I feel to be 
inestimable. Yet, not withstanding all theae advaotag», I am Ibe moat 
nneasy and dissatisfied ami living : haviiu been for some time past 
harrassed by a desire so strange and Bingular, thati am autpriaed ana 
irritated at mv own foUy, and have eodeavoured with all my power 
to.iepresB it ; Dutlfindit imposúble. On your friendly breast, the^ 
I would fain repose my care, audbustbyyouraaaidaitr to beceatoieii 
to tranquillity and happiness." 

Lothario was surprised at this long preamble, and ooold not poeaiUy 
oOBJeotire to what it tended. He told Anselmo that be was bound in 
¿iendship to lepoae implicit ttrnfldeBBs ia him, and that he might lalf 
on all the asaist«aoe in nia power. 

"With this assurance, my friend," anaweted Anselmo^ "I will ccm- 
fess, then, to you that the cause of mT solicitude is a desire to asoertaa 
whether my wile be at good Hid pericet as 1 think she ii. OS this I 
eaoDot be BSsojed, ujiless she pasa ao ordeal, as g<4d doea that of fire ; 
for how, my friend, c«o a woman prove her virtue if she be not tned i 
She only is chaste who has resisted all the Tarioua solicitattont of «b 
importunate lover. Whatmerit canawoBandaimforbeingvirtuon^ 
if nobody pcranadcsbertobeotherwiseP What is there estmonlinaitr 
in a woman's prudenoe, if no opportunity is given ber to go asli&v t 
orif she be only reslAinedbytbe fearof ahusbaod'tvengeanoeP £nB 
therefore who is correct out of fear, or from want of opportunity, does 
not deserve to be hehl in the tame degree of estinuttion as one who 
lesiit* importunity. For these reaaons, and others that I could assign^ 
my desire u that Camilla should pass through the Gery ordctd <¿ temp> 
tstioui andifiheoomesout tnuo:phut,BalbQl^vetbe will, Isbii^ 

, , . .A.OOgIC 

"thí cduous díixbtisest." 171 

■eooQiit myself anpremcly happy, and can then mt tiist I hive attained 
the summit of ¡ptoA fortune, siuct the virtuous woman has fallen to my 
lot of vhom the wiscm&n sajs, ' Who can Snd her?' But sliould tlie 
event prove otherwise, the sai isfactioo oChaviog proied the truth will 
auble mc to bear the afilicliiin occasioned by so costly an experiment. 
And, since nothiiii; can divert me from it, I reiiueiit jou, mv friend 
Lothario, to be mj instnuneut in this business, for which 1 wiil afford 
70U every facility, and yon shall want iiothintt that 1 otm think neoes- 
sary to guin upon a modest, rirtuous^ reservcd, and disiutureeted 
«Oman. AmoQi; other reaaoos vhicb induce nie to trust liita nice 
affair to you is mf confidence that, if Camilla slioold be overeóme, vou 
viil not ]iush the vidory to the laat extremity ; so that I shalljie 
•mnged onlyin the intention, and tlie injury will remain by you 
hnried in silence, wbieh, aa it re^rds me, will most certainly b« 
eteruol aa that 01 death. Therefore, if yon would have me enjoy mf 
eiistcnce, you must inunediatch engage in this amorous oomhat, not 
lan^idly and lazily, but with oli the fervour and diligence my dcaifca 
aeouires, and with the secrecy wliieh I expect from your friendship." 

Ijolhario had listcnej to Anselmo with the utmost atteiítion. and 
without once iatermptin^ bim; even afte^ he bad ceased speaking, 
be continued for some tunc fcioiag at him in silt-ncc and aurprtse. 
"Surely, my friend Ausolmo," he at length exclaimed, "you have been 
saying all this in jest ! Could I think you in carnes^ I ahoald doubt 
the evidence of my senses, and question whether you were really 
Anaelmo, and I Lothario. Certainly yon are not toe Anselmo you 
were wont to be, or you would not have made sueh a request of your 
Lothario — for men may prove and use their friends, as the poet 
expresses it, uipK ad anu; meaning that a friend should not b» 
nequired to act contrary to the law of Qod. If such was the preoept 
of ■ haatben, surely H would be unbecoming a Christian to tranagress 
it : if aa infraction ever admitted of excuse, it could only be when the 
nonoor and life of a friend were at stake. But tell me, 1 pray, wbiatt 
oléese are now in dangler, that I should venture to gratify you by 
•otumittiDg so detestableaa aotioa f On tlw catfraiy, if I nnderatand 
;on rightly, instead of preservinfr. yon vould have He deprive both 
701B ano myself of henour and life; for in rohbing yov of honoor, I 
should take your VSt, siuoe » man dlshonoaicd is woiae than dead; 
and if I beoome the instrument of tJiis evil, shall I not incur the same 
&te f Hear me patiently, my friend, and answer not nutil you have 
facard all my ur^ments against your strange proposaL" " n ith all 
myhevt;" said Anselmo; " say what rou píeme. 

" It seems to me, Anselmo," resumed Lothario, " that it is now with 
yovas it always is with the Moon, who never can be oravinced of tiie 
errors of their sect by the evidenoe of Holy Scriptvres, nor by ug^ 
meats drawn fmm reason, or founded upon articles of faith: but yoa 
most give them proofs tlút are phkin, intelligible, undeniable, and, in 
dioii, mathematieolly demonstr^ed ; such as,~'If from equal parts 
VDtakc equal parts, those tbat remain are also equal.' And if^they 
do not eomprehend this by worda— and indeed they do not— you mu^ 
riiow it to ibem with yout hands, and set it before their very evea ¡ 
Rod afto' all, perhaps nothing <nn oraivince them of the truths of our 
boly re%ion. Thus it is with you ; and so hopeless is the task of 
eontendinfr by argument against such prepwtñous Colly, that only 
nj feieadship Cor you prevents me from leaving you at onoe to thq 


pmúshment that will attend it. You desire me, Anselmo, to assail ber 

wbois modest and pnident— to seduce lier wLo is viituous. As/ou 

thus acknowledge tiiat jour wife possesses these quolitius, wliat is it 

row would have? Being coDvinced of what is doubtless the fact— 

tliat her virtue is impregiiatile, how can she be raised higher in your 

estimation ? for she cannot be more tban perfect. If, in reality, you 

have not that favourable opinion of her which vou profess to Iiave, 

wherefore put her to such a test P Treat her ralner as you think she 

deserves. But if, on the contrary, you believe in her chastity aud 

truth, it is absurd to make an ' 

enhance the intrinsic worth e 

tarilythat which must be prod 

ncss and folly. Difficult works 

of the world, or of both : the f 

while they endeavour to live a 

eucli as are performed for love 

who navigate the boundless i 

tarions chínales, to acnuire ■ 

Those who assail Jiazardous en 

man are brave soldiers, who i 

a breach made by a siagie canr 

full of zea] in the defence of Ú 

ihpj rush where death ia a the 

diflicullies commonly attempte 

rioos and profitable. But yoi 

dory from above, the goods o 

for, supposins tlie event to be 

it should be ofhcrwiscj your si 

ception, and it can afford you 

sciousncss of such a misforiuti 

For, as that celebrated poet 

at. Peter,'— 

Shame, grfef, retnorse. In Pater's breñal InCTcnse. < 

Soon u the blushiijjt morn hia orimo bctrnya ; 

Whan mast un»ecn, then moat himsell he seo^ 
And with do* horror all his soul Mirveyo. 

Tot b great sph^t needs no censuring svei 
To wnond ¡lis soul, when eonsoloiis of a fiiult; 

But, self- condom a'd, bnd e'en sclf-puniKh'd, lios, 
And dreads no witness lilce upbraiding- 'Thought. 

"Expect not, therefore, by concealment to banish sorrow; for, 
even though you weep not openly, tears of blood will Sow from your 
heart. So wept thai simple doclor, who, accordinit to the poet, would 
venture to make a trial of the cup which the more prudent Uinaldo 
wisely declined doing; and although this he a poetical fiction, there 
is a concealed moral in it wotiby to lie observed and followed. But 
1 have yet eomething more to say opon this subject, which, I hope, 
will fully convince yoa of the folly of your project. 

" Tell me, Anselaio, if you were so fortunate as to possess a «iper- 

Islively fine diamond, the value of wliich wbb acknovfledged by jewel' 

lera, who all unsnimously declireil that, in weight, goodness^ and 

beauty, it was excellent of its kind, would it be reasonable to insist 



on this diiitnond heing laid on ttn anvil to try hy the hamiaer vbetUer 
it vete rcaLy so barif aud so fine as it «as pronounced to be ? If Uie 
Sifihe bear tbe proof, it could not thercbjr acquire additional value ; 
and, ghould it break, would not all be lost F les, ceitainly, and its 
owner pass for n fool ! Consider, tlieo, friend Anselmo, tbat Camilla 
b a precioDS gem, both in your awn estlniation and m tliat of Uio 
world, and tbat it is absurd to expose her to danger, siQce Ibougb 
she should remain entire, sbc cannot rise in value; and should she 
&Í1, reflect what will be your loss as well as your sclf-rcproacbcs foi 
having caused both ber ruin and jnar own 1 There is no jewel in the 
world so Talnable aa a chaste and virtuous woman. The honour of 
Vometi consists in the good opinion of the world ; and einee that of 
of your wife is eminently ^oo^ why would you have it questioned ? 
Woman, my friend, is an imperfect creatnre; and, icslead of laying 
stnmbling-blocks in her way, we should clear the path before her, thw 
^e may readily attain that virtue which Í3 essential in her. Nalu- 
Kklists inform us that the eimbe is a little creature with extremely 
white fur, and that when the banters ate in pursuit of it, they spreao. 
with mire all the ^9cs leading to its haunts, to which they then drive 
H, knowing that it will submit to be taken rather than defile itself. 
Tlie virtuons and modest woman is an ermine, and her character 
whiter tlian snow ; and in order to preserve it, a very different method 
most be taken from that which is used with the ermine ; she must 
not be driven into mire, tbat is the foul addresses of lovers ; since 
she may not have sufhcient virtue and strength to extricate her- 
self from the snare. Instead of eiposing her to such danger, yoa 
should present to her view the beauty of virtue and fair fame. The 
reputation of a woman mav also ho compared to a mirror of crystal, 
shining and bright, but hable to be suiled by every breath that comes 
new it. The virtuous woman must be treated like a relic— adored, 
but not handled; she should bcguarded and prized, Elte afine Bower- 
guden, the beauty and fragrance of which the owner allows others to 
eojoy only at a diitance, and through iron rails. I wiU also repeat to 
you some verses, applicable to the present subject, which 1 remember 
to have beard in a uiodcm comedy. A prudtmt old man advises tbe 
btlier of a young maiden to loolc well after her, and lock her op. 
Among othera, be gives the following rewoDs: — 

If womBu '■ glaai; why should wa try 

Whether she can be brako, or no I 
Ofent hazanla in tbe tHal Ua, 

Bgcuiae, parehanoo, ihe may b* so. 
Who ihnt is iriiio, Buch brittle «are 

Would carolcn áaür upon the floor. 
Which broken, nothing can repair. 

Nor toUer to its farm reetore t 
In this opinion all ore found. 

And rsosoD vouches «hat I aaj. 
Wherever DanaSs abound, 

llieir goldcQ showeis inll moke their way. 

"All that I have hitherto said, Anselmo, relates to yon. It is now 
pnper 1 should sav something concerning myself; and pardon me if 
T am prolix ¡ for I am compeíled to be so, in order to extricate yon 



tnm IbK labyrmth into which jou have sfra^red. Too kiok npmi tw 
as yonr friend, Bnd jet., against all rules of fnendsbip, would have lue 
forfeit my own honour, aa well ss deprive you of yours. Tiiat mine would 
be lost i» pbiiu I for when Camilla tienrd of my professions of lovev 
slie would certainly re^rd ine as the baseat of men. Tor entertaiiiiDg' 
Tjews w deroji^atory to m.Tself and mv friend. And tliat jour houour 
would suffer 19 equally certain : for she would miturnlly tliink that I 
had discovered some levily in lier, which onouura^'cd rae lo declare a 
fiu i II7 passion, and would cunsequentlyicsord herself as dishonoured; 
and in iicr dishonour, you, as her liuslmna, must participate, for the 
husband of an adulteress ^hou^h ii"t accessor}-, nor e:ven privy, to bw 
transirrcssions, is ncvertlietcss univcrsaily branded by an opprobrioi» 
and vilit'yiu^ name, and re^rded with contempt rather than pity; 
vet if you will listen to me with pnlience, I will explain to you wtij it 
is just that the liuaband should suffer this odium. We are informed 
by the Holy Seriptures that woman was formed from the rib of our 
first parent Adam, and thence pronounced to be one ñcsh. At the 
same time, the holy sacrament of marriage was ordained, with ties 
tbat death alone can dissolve. The husband, thprefore, being of the 
same tlesh as his wife, must needs be affected bynhateveraBeclafaer, 
03 (he bead feels the smart of the ancle, and pain in any one of the 
members is commnniealed to the whole body. Thus, however euilt- 
less the man, he must participate in the womnn's disiionoar, and her 
ahame is his disgrace. Think tiien. Anselmo, on the danger to whiob 
you expose Tonrself in seeking to disturb the repose of your virtuoos 
consort. Consider from what vain and impertinent curiosity you 
would stir up the passions now dormant in tlie breast of your chaste 
spouse. }teSect what an immense risk you incur for a triOiug gtati- 
ilcation. But if all I have said he not sufficient to dissuade you from 
your preposterous desizn, you must seek anotliei instrument to effect 
your disjfraee and misery ; for I am resolved not to act this part, 
though 1 should lose your friendship, which is the greatest loss I can 

Here the rírtuona and discreet Lothario ceased : and Ansedmo vaa 
perplexed for some time how to answer him ; at length he said, " I 
have listened to yon, my friend, with attentioa; and your arjruments 
prove the sincerity of yonr friendship, as well ss your good sense. I 
am weQ aware that in adhering to my project and rejecting your 
counsel, I am actiw unwisely : but my dear Lothano, you must look 
npon my folly as a disease, ana grant it some indulge ncc— satisfy ma 
m just making an attempt, eren though it be but a cold oue. upon 
Camilla, who surely will not surrender at the first onaet; and. with 
this act of friendship on yonr part I promise to rest OMitcnted. You 
will thereby restore mo to the cnjovment of ezisteuce, and presar* e 
my honour, which would otlierwise be endangered by your forcing me 
to apply to anot^H person ; for determined I still am to make this 
expcnment. Do not be oMicemed at the temporary lose of Camilla's 
good opinion; lot after her integrity has been proved, you may dis- 
close our plot to her, whereupon she will immedialely restore jo« to 
favonr. I entreat you then not to decline the task, suice you mvr so 
easily gratify me ¡ and again I promise to be satisfied by yowrfint 


=„— any otber disffunaJTe ara 

..s requcstjlrat he should expose bis ft„, ., , 

Ansplmo embraced bim witli gnai tenderness una affectioi 
tbanked him as raacb for his complianoe as if be bad done him some 
great favonr. It was agreed between them that be s)iould begin 
operations the tctj neit day, when Anaelnio wonld pre him an 
Opportunity to conrerae alone ■with Camilla, and supply hira also with 
money »nd jeweJa for presents to her. He ftdvised him to serenade 
her, and write Terses in her praise, and if he thousht it too muoli 
tronbie, he would himself compose them for him. Lothario consented 
toererjthinK, bntwithan intention very different from what his friend 
ima^med. Tnis arrangement being mitde, they returned toAnselmo's 
house, where they found Camilla aniiously waiting the return of her 
Bponse, who that day was later than usuaL Lothario after some 
time retired to his own hoose, lea™? bis fiiend no less hanpy than 
he was himsdf perplexed at the impertinent business in which he bad 
engaged. However, he devised a plan by which he might deceive 
A¿elmo and avoid f^ving ofience tu his wife. The next day he went 
to dine with his fnend, and was kindly received by Camilla, who 
indeed always treated mm with much cordiality, on aecouut of the 
friendship her husband entertained for him. Dinner being ñnisbed, 
trad the cloth removed, Anselmo desired Lothario tosuiy with Camilbi 
while he went upon an nricent afair.whii^hheshonld despatch in ahuut 
kn hour and a half. Camilla entreated bim not U) go, and Lothario 
effered to accompany him ; but it was all to no purpose ; he impor- 
tmed Lothario to wait for him, sayingho wished particularly to speiik 
with him on bis retnm ^ at the same time be desired Camilla to enter- 
tain hJ9 friend during bis absence, for which be made a very plausible 

Anselmo departed, and Canilla and Lothario remained together, 
the rest of the family being eng^ed at dinner. Tlius Lothario per- 
«eived that he had entered the lists, as hi» friend desired, with an 
enemy before him sufEciently powerful to cocquerj by her beauty 
ahrae, a sqoadton of armed cavaliers : think, then, whether Lothario 
had not cause to ieax. However, the first thing that be did was to lean 
his elbow on the arm of the chair, and his cneek on bÍB_ hand ; and 
bearing Camilla to pardon his illmannera, he s^d he was inclined for 
■ littje repose. Camilla answered tbit be would be more at ease on 
the ooQch than in the ehair, and therefore begsed that he would lin 
down irpon H. Lothario declined the offer, ana remained sleeping in 
his cha^r until Anselmo returned, who, &aing Camilla retired to her 
dtamber, and Lothario asleep, concluded, as his abstmCe had bean 
long, that there bad been time enough for them both to talk and to 
lieeji; and he thought Lothario would never awake, so great was his 
Bisatienco to team his suooees. Lothario at len^h a\vukine, tbey 
walked out together, wlien in answer to the inquiries of Anselmo, he 
aid: "lliat be did not think it pnqier to open too far the jk^l tune, 
«nd tberefere all (diat he had d!one was to tell her ahe was very 
hmdsmiM, and that the whole city talked of her wit and beauty ; and 
this he tinn^ a good intrododáon, as he should thus insinuate him- 
srif into her goodwill, and dispose h^ to listen to bin the next time 
with pleasure : empbying the same artifice as the devil, who. when be 
VrMllaDtn^KonttiiOuapenou, assumes on angel (bnu till be cariies 



his point, yihea the cIOTen foot «.ppeara." Anselmo wu extre raelf 
veil tatisfied, and said he would (civehimthe same opportunity every 
daf, without leaving home, for tbat he eould find some emploTment 
to account for his withdrawing himsiclf. 

Uanr days now passed, and Lothario stiH preserving his respect to 
Camilla, assured Anselmo tliat he had aasajlea her, but that she never 
betrayed the least symptom of weakness, nor pave him a sliaduw of 
hope i on the contrary, that she tiirealeüed to inform her husband if 
he did not relinquish bis base dehign. "So far, all is well," said 
Anselmo, " hitherto Camilla has resisted words ; we must now attack 
her another way. To-morrow I will give you two thousand crowns iu 
gold to present to her, and as many more to purchase Jewels,, by way 
of lure, for women are pleased with finery; and if she resists this 
temptation, I will be Ealis6ed, and give von no farther trouble," 
Lotbario promised that since he had be^un,ne would go ihrougli with 
this affair, although his defent was certain. The next dav he received 
tbe four tnonsand crowns, and with them four thouaanil perplexities 
as to the new lies he moat invent : he resolved, however, to tell him 
Uiat Camilla was quite as inflciinle to presents and promises as to 
words, so that he need not trouble himself farther, since it was all 
time lost. 

Unfortunately, however, Anselmo was seised with an inclination 
one day, after leaving Lothario and his wife alone as usual, to listen 
at the door, and peep through the kevhote, when, after waiting above 
half an hour, he heard not a sineic word pass between them— in truth, 
if he had waited all day it would have been to no purpose. He now 
concluded that his frieud had deceived him ¡ but to ascertain it he 
called him aside, and inquired how matters were going on. Lothario 
aaid in reply that he could not persevere any longer, for that she 
rebuked him so sharply, he could not presume to open his lips to her 
asain upon the subject. "Ah! Lothario, Lothario !" cried Anselmo, 
" is this your return for my confidence ? Is it thus you fulfil your 
engj^emenfa to me F I have been watching you a long time at the 
. door, and find that you have not spoken a word to Camilhii from 
wliicii I must infer that you have never yet spoken to her. If so, why 
is it vou deceive me ? and prevent me from applying to others who 
would gratify mv desire P Anselmo said no more; Lothario was 
abashed and coniounáed ; and, thinking his honour touched, by being 
detected in a lie, swore to Anselmo that from that moment he engaged 
to satiafv him, and would deceive him Eo more, as he should find if 
he had tne curiosity to watch him : he might, however, save himself 
the troable, for be was determined to raoke such exertions for liia 
satisfaction, that there should be no room left for suspicion. Anselmo 
betiered him ; and, to give him an opportunity, less liable to interrup- 
tion, be resolved to absent himself from home for eight days, and to visit 
a fncud who lived in a neighbouring village, from whom he managed 
to get a pressing invitation in order to account for his dqwrture to 
Camilla. Bash, foolish Anselmo 1 what art thou doingf Plottbg 
thine own dishonour, contriving thine own ruin ! Thoa art in tran- 
quil possession of a virtnons wife ; the sole object of her affections, 
and under heaven her only guide 1 Tiius blessed by the treasures of 
honour, heaaty, and virtue, why do j-ou madly endanger themP 
Consider that De who seeks after what is impossible, ought injustice 

"tHB C0M0O8 niFEETIHEMT." 177 

to tw denied what is possible ; as a oert^ poet bu better expreued 
It in tuese rerses: — 

Iq death alnne I Bfo would End 

Anri health in racking pain ; 
Pair honour in & traitor'» mind. 

Or fnodom to s chain. 

But ÚDoe T udt «hri ne'er gan be. 

The Fatas, tira ! dooid», 
What they would eise have granted me, 

Shall erar be denied. 

Anselmo, on leayingliome, told Camilla tLat Lothario Tooldtaie 
oharse of tlie house during his absence, and lie desired she would 
treat hini_a8 his omi person. _ThB discreet and virtuous nife did not 
"Bsented to him the impropriety rf 
ble when he was absent ; and she 
ist the charge of the boosehold to 
£Dt to the oho^e. Aoseliaa, how- 
nd Camilla was compelled to ;íeld 

ture, Lothario vent to his honse^ 
«t reception from Can¡illa, who, to 
as constantly attended by her ser- 
aa Leonela, to whom she had be^ 
d»yi passed, and Lotbario had pot 

was not without opportnnities, 
:\iB servants at their dinner-tima. 
r mistress to dine fint, so that she 
16 had her owa entragenient^ aod 
nding the orders of her mistnas. 
: CamilU and the ¡iropriety of her 
ae ; but the influence of ber virtoe 
it the more dan^rous; for if bis 
re in motioo, and be bad leisure to 
her mind and ORrson, which oonld 
t of marble. This silent but daa. 
lerminad his fidelity to Anselmo ¡ 
retirinff from the city, and absent- 
lilla and liis friend ; but the jje&. 
w still detained liim. Uan^ wejre 
ist the delight bo felt in gaxina oa 
lached himself fur being so Jaue « 
!(, on considering the conduct of 
xocoded his own perfidy, be only 
ie betbro God as before moo. lu 
imilla together with the opporto. 
land had forced npon him, quite 
. after maintaioing a hard oonfliot 
1, he became regardless of everf- 
: Dent meeting, therefore, he begwt 

— .L .f ■_.. 'juitshewM 

BT seat, and 


irmth of expression, tluít she was 
ly reply rose (torn ner seat, and 

retirad to her chamber. But tet frigidity did not diaconrago iw 
loier, for hope is ever born with love ; he ojúy grew mote aida^ la 
the mean time, CWilla, ihinltins it ininroper to give him anoth» 
oppoitunitf of addreasm<( her, despatcbed a mesaenecr the same night 
'- ' —-'",0 with the ioliowing tetter;— 


In vhich « emtiraud " Th* Jfoftí r^ íAe Curünu Impirtitift." 

"CaatiiBS should not he left without aovetnors, nor anniea without 

genera ; but it is worse for a young »'Se to be left without her hu»- 
baiid. I find it so impossible to enduce your abscoce aziy lonacr, that 
if you do not return immediatelv I must retieat to my tathera house, 
though 1 leave >'out3 unguardea ; for he whom you left as a protector 
ia, Ibelievc, more iuiect upoa his own pleasure than jour mteteffta. 
\aa are prudent, so I need say no more." 

Anselino reoeived this letter, and understood hf it that Lothano 
hod beKun Oie attack, and that Camilla must have received it accord- 
iaa to His wi^. Overjoyed at this good neus, he sent Camilla a vei- 
bu message, deah'ine her not to remove from her house upon any 
account, for he would leturK Tcry speedily. Camilla was surprised 
at this ADBwer, which only increased her pc^ilezity ; for now she was 
equally afraid to remain in her own house, and to retire to that of her 
parents i since by staying hei' virtue was endangered, and by deport- 
mgsbe would act ootUnuy to her husband's positive commands. Her 
final det«rminatJou proved iha worst, wliicli was to stay and not shun 
Lothario, lest it might eiclk the observation of the servants ; and she 
now regretted li&viog written to her husband, lest he sjiould suspect 
that some impropriety in her conduct bad encouraged Lotbano to 
trait her with disrespect. But conscious of her own integrity, she 
tzuated in God and licr own virtnej resolving by her silence to dis- 
courage IjQthario, without communicating any mure (m the sui^^t to 
her husband, lest it should involve bim in a quarrel. She eveu oegan 
to consider kuw she might excuse Lothono to A.n.selmo when he 
idiould ioQuire into the meaning of ber letter. 

With this determination, more honourable than prudent, the next 
day she quietly heard what Lothario had to say ; and he pleaded with 
so much energy, that the Smmess of Caoiilk began to waver, and her 
virtue could Imrdly prevent her eyes from showing some indications 
of amorous compassion. This was not lost upon him, and it only 
tended to increitsc the ardour of his passion. He resolved to presa 
Ike siege, while tmio and opportunity served; and he employed 
■igiúiist her the powerful engine of ^tcry ; thus assailing her in the 
most vulnerable part of woman — her vanity. In fact, he undermined 
Ihc fortress of her virtue, and directed a^nst it so irresistible a force 
that had she been made of brass fihe must have fallen. Ue wept, 


entreated, flatlered, uid «dicited, with aucb vdiemenoe of passioi^ 
■that he ?radii(tl|v oTercane hei- rcaerre, and flully obtaiiud a triumph. 
She snrretidered — ;es, eren ComiiltiBDrreadered I No wonder, nbsB 
Lothario's friendthip could not stmd ita ^ond ! A clear proof that 
thepassionof love is to be conquered bv flight alone; that it is vain to 
contend with a power which, though human, reqoiree more thui 
human stren^ to subdue it. 

Leonela alone was priiy to hor lady's frajlty, for it was impossible 
to have concealed it from her. Lothario never told Camilla of her 
husband's project, and of his haTinK pnrposely afibrded bm the oppor- 
tunity of addressmg her, lest ahe snouid doubt his sincerity, or set less 
value on his passion. 

After some davs, Anielmo returned, little tUnldng he had lost a 
biasure which, though least gutuiied, he most valued. He repaired 
instantly to Lothario, andenibracing him, inquired for the news which 
was to decide his fate. "The news I have for you, O friend 
Anselmo," said Lothario, "is that you have a wife writhy to be tbe 
model and crown of all good women. My words were thrown lo the 
■wind ; my offers hare been despiaed, my preaenls refused, and the 
tears I fo^ed treated with ridicule. In short, as Camilla is the sum 
of ol! beauty, so is she of goodness, modesty, and every virtue which 
can make a woman praiseworthy and happy. Therefore, friend, take 
bark your money; here it is: I had no occasion to use it; for 
Camilla's integrity is not to be shaken by anything so base. Se satis- 
8ed, Anselmo, and since you have safely pa¿ed the gulf of suspicion, 
do not hazard fresh trials on thedangcronsocean, bat reet seeurelyin 
harbour until yon are required to pay that tribute from which ito 
human being is eiempted. 

Anselmo was entirely satisfied with Lothario's report, to which he 
p\\e as much credit as if it had been debvered by an oracle. Nev«. 
thplcss, he desired him not entirely to give np the pnrsnjt, were it 
only out of curiosity and amusement ; though it would not be nccet- 
sary lo ply her 30 closely as before ; all that he now desired of him 
was fo writp verses in her praise, nnder the name of Cldoris ; and he 
would give 'Camilb to iinderstand that he was in lore withakdv, to 
whom he had given that name, that ite might celebrate her witbont 
offending her modesty j he even engaged to write the verses himself, 
if Lothario was unwilhng to take that trouble. "There will bono 
liGed of that," said Lothario : " for the Unses are not so nnpropitíous 
to me hnt tiiat now and then they make me a visit. Tel! Camilla of 
my counterfeit passion, and leave the verses to mo ; which, if not so 

fiod as the subject deserves, shall at least be the best I can make." 
his agreement being concluded between the curious husband and the 
treiichcrons friend, the former returned home and inquired of Camilla, 
as she had eipecled, tbe occasion of her writing the letter which she 
sent him. Camilla answered that she then fancied Lothario treated 
her with rather more freedom than when he was at home : but that 
she now believed it to have been merely imaginary on her part ; for, 
indeed, of late lie hod avoided seein<; and bein^ alone with her. 
Ansohno replied that she might di^^miss all suspicion; for. to his 
tnowlcdge, Lothario was in love with a young lady of oondition in 
the city, wliom be celebrated under the name of Cfdorisj and, even 
were it not so, slie had nothing to fear, considering Lothario's virtue 
ind the great friendship tlutt subsiated between tiiem. Had not 
»8 n , .. A-OO^^IC 


Camilla been advertised by Lotbono that Ous story of bis love for 
Chlnris was all a fiction, wnich be bad íovented merel; to obtain an 
opportnnit; of indulging ia praises of lierself, she -would 'doabtlcss 
have been seized -witb a ñt of jeakmsv; bat bariog been thus pre- 
pared, ahe felt no uneasiness on the sumecC, 

Tbe neit da^, as they were at table together, Anselmo desired 
Ijothario to recite some of the verses he had composed on bis beloved 
Ciiloris ; for, since she was unknown to CamUla, be need not scruple 
to repeat them. 

"Even were she not unknown," answered Lothario, "1 would not 
conce^ the praises which are her due ; for when & lover couipt^ns of 
bis mistreaa, while he entola her perfections, he casts no reproach upon 
ber good name. I will, therefore, without scruple read to you this 
Bonnet, which I composed yesterdÁf , on the ingratitude of Chloris : — 


at „ . 
'd in Bolt ropoae, 
1 Da sau account di my Doslooted voes 
To oonscious heaven oni Chloris I recite. 
And when the sun, with his returning light. 
Forth fhnn tbe oaet his mdiant journey goes. 
With accenti such a» sorrow only know» 
Hy griebto tall la all my poordohght. 
And when brleht Fbabus Trom hn atartj throne 

Sandi raya direct upon tJie parolied aoil, 
""" 'a Hie moum&il tale I psserere ; 

' ig night rsnewB my sorrow's toil ; 

n to night 1 weep and m — 

ioris my complamings hi 

CamillA was very well pleased with the sonnet, and Anselmo was 
lavish in his commendation, declaring- that tbe Udy was too cruel not 
to reward so much truth. " What then !" rcphed CsmilliL " ate we 
to takeall that the enamoured poets tell us for truth?" "Whatever 
they mw say as poets," answered Lothario, "certainly as lovers they 
apeak the truth, and eipress atili lesa than they feel." " Undoubt- 
ealj," said Anselmo ; wbo was ready to confirm all Lothario said, to 
advance his credit with Canalla ; bat this compkcency in her husband 
she did not observe, being engrossed by her passion for Lothario. 
And, taking pleasure in hearing his verses (especially as she was coo- 
BCious of being herself the Chloris to whom they were addressed), she 
requested him. if he could recollect any others to repeat them. " I 
do recollect another," replied Lothario, " but I fear it is even worse 
than the one you have just beard; however, jon shall judge for your- 

"Believe me, nrmph, I feel th' Impenditig blow. 
And glory in the near approach of doith ; 
For, when Ihou aee'st my oorse deToid of braath. 
My CDHstanoy and tnith thou wire wilt know. 
Welooma to ma Oblivion'* abada oberaire ', 
Weloomo the loes of (brtuno, life und fiune I 
But thy tored featiuv». and thy hinuHir'd name, 
Decf graven on my hoart, shall eUU mdure. 


" And thaw, M «upred nuca, win I keep 

Till tlkat Bad momcnf when to endless night 
My lung-tonnented booI shall take ber flight. 
Alas fbr him icho on the dnrkan'd deep 
Fbata Idl?, sport of the tempostuoiu tide. 
So port to ahield him, and no star to guldo I " 

Aoscloio commended this seccmd sonnet sa mncb as lie !i^ done the 
first: aud thus he went on labouring to secure bis own shame and 
adding fresh links to the chain of his infimiv : and the more tlie lover 
triumphed, the more he assured the husDand of his unblemished 
honour. Thus the lower Camilla sunk into the ahjss of infimv, the 
higher she rose in her husband's opinion toirards the pinnacle of vii- 
tue and honour. 

One day when Camilla was alone with her maid she said to her, "I 
&m ashamed, Leoncia, to think how little value I placed upon mvself 
in allowing Lothario so soon to gain the entire possesaton of my 
heart; I fear he will look upon my easy surrender aa the effect oí 
levity, without reflecting on his own rcaiatlesa power." "Dear 
madaai," answered Leoiiela, "let not this trouble you, for there is 
nothing in it : a gift, if it be worth anything, ¡a not worse far bcinK 
Boon given : aud llierefore they say he who pves quickly gives twice." 
" But they say also," retumea Camilla, " that which is Lf^htly gained 
¡a little valued." "Tliis does not affect 
Leonela; "for love, as I have heard eay, s< 
times wwks — runa with one person, and goei 
some he warms, and some he bums ; gome hi 
kills : in one and the same instant he forma i 
jecls. He often ¡n the morniog lays siege t 
evening Barrendera to him— for no force la a1 
then are you afraid of, if this was the cbjic wi 
tw's ¿)senoe was instrumental tu lore'a suc< 
^ lost, for love has no better minister than 
well acquainted with, from experience rathe 
day or other, madun, I may let you see that 
and blood. Beside*, madam, j'ou did not yie 
in his eyes, in liia sigha, in ins c:ípres3Íotis, 

E resents, tlie whole aoul of Lothano, and ho' 
ive i then lot not these scruples and nicet 
assured Lothario esteems you no less than 
satisfied that, since vou have fallen into the a 
person of worth ana character, and one whc 
raor SS.* which, they say, all true lovers ougl 
dphabct. Do but hear me, and you shall se< 
He is, if I am not mistaken, amiable, boiu 
enamoured, faithful, gallant, honourable, illuj 
noble, obliging, prudent, quielj rich, ana the 

true, valiant^ ftnd wise; tne i suita him no., __ 

etter ; the ¥, he is young ; the Z, zealous of your honour." 

Camilk smiled at this alphabet of ber maid, whom she found to be 
more conversant in love-matters than she hod hitlierto owned ; and 
ndeed she now confessed to her that she had an tJSait with a yonng 

* fiabio, solo, Eolioito j seoroto. 

1» VON «lllXOTB. 

Bentleman of ttie same city. At this Camilla was mnch distoríwd, 
iMirins lest from that quarter her own honour might be in daapn; 
she therefore inquired whether her amour had gone farther than 
words. Leonela, with the utmost assurance, owned that it had; far 
it is certain that the slips of the mistress take all shame from the 
inait!, who, whea her mistress makes a false step, thinks nothing of 
downrigtit hailing, and takes no trouble to conceal it. Camilla could 
onl)' entreat Leonela to say of her affair to her lover, and to 
mana^ her own coneema with SMch secrecy that it might not coma 
to the knowledge of Anselmo or of Lothano. Leonela promised to 
be careful ; nercrtliejesa. Camilla's fears were verified, for the shame- 
less girl, when she fouua that her mistress's conduct was not what it 
had befn, made bold to introduce and conceal her lover in the house, 
presuming that her lady would not dare to comphun if she shotili 
ttiscovcr it. For this inconvenience, among others, attends the mis- 
condact of mistresses : they become slaves to their own servants, 
whose dishonesty and lewdness they are compelled to conceal. ITius 
it was with Camilla ; for tliough she frequently saw that liconela 
entertained her gallant in the house, so far from dariu'- to chide her, 
she gave her opportunities of secretins hiro, and did all she could to 
prevent him fern being seen by her husband, iet, notwithstAndiny 
lier precautions, Lothario once discovered him retreating from the 
house at break of day. At first he thought it mast be some vision of 
his fancy; but when he saw him steal off, muffling himself np, and 
endeavouring to conceal himself, snspiclona succeeded which would 
have been the roin of them idl had it not been averted by Camilla. 
It never occurred toLothario that the man whom he had seen coming 
ont of Anselmo's house at so unseasonable an hour might have gone 
hither npon Iieoncla's account; he did not even remember that there 
was suca a person in the woria ; but he tliougiit that Camilla, as she 
had beefl easy and complying- to him, was not less so to anotiicr; for 
a woman always loses, with her virtue, the confidence even of the man 
to whose entreaties and solicitations she surrendered her honour ; and 
he is ready to beheve, upon the slightest groimds, that she yields to 
others even with greater facility. 

All Lothario's good !ense and prudence seemed to have failed him 
npon this occasion; for, without a moment's rational reflection, 
bunded with jealous rafre, and fnrious to be revensed on Camilla, who 
had offended him in nothmg, he liastened to Anselmo. " My friend," 
he saii " I can no longer forbear communicating fit you what for 
some days past I have been strttKlinff to conceal. Your wife, 
Anselmo, auomita to my will and pleasure. One of my motives for 
delaying to tell you was my uncertainty whether I'le was reslli 
culpable, or only meant to try whether the love 1 professed was with 
yourconnivance, or in earnest; inwbiclicaseshewonid have informed 
yon of my attcnipts npon her ; but finding she has been silent to you 
on the suDJcct, Imnst conclude that she is serious tn her promises to 
grant me an interview in the wardrobe the next time ^d are absent 
from home. However, as the fault is committed only in thought, do 
not rashly seek to revenge yourself, for before the «ppoiuled time 

"tee CÜSTOOa IvrBBTINSNT." 188 

tot some dafi, uid oonoeal yonneir behiod the tapest^ in Uie vard- 
robf^ where you may be convinced by jout own eyesof Ganiilla's real 
«atimenta, and if they «re evil you may then sDcroLl; and quietly 
arenge yonr wrones-" 

Aiuelmo was struck aghast at Iiothario's intellii^oe, for already 
he kxded upon her viotoi7 as complete. Mid beean to enjoy the 8^017 
«f her tnomph. For some time be remained with his eyes Qied 
motionless ao the ground ; at length he aaid, " Lothario, you have 
acted the friendly part I requirea of you ; I will now be guided by 
yoor advice in everythii^^ao what yuu will, onl^ be cautious to 
preserve secrecy." Lothario satisfirai him By hia prouii^es; hot 
HCaTMly had he quitted him when he began to be Ecnsible of the foUy 
of bis conduct, and to reeret that he bad taken so cruel and uumanly 
k way to reienge himself on Camilla. He oorsed his senseless im- 
mtuotitv, and felt quite at a lose bow to act in such 11 dilemma, 
finally uc resolved to confeai all to Camilla; and on the eiune day 
OCHttrived to see her alone. " Ah, my dear Xiotliarin," she cxctaimei^ 
immediately on ins entrance ; " I am overwhelmed with anxiety ; for 
Leonela'a impudence ia now oairied to such a height that, she eot«r- 
taioB her gallant every nigiit ¡n the house, and he slays with her until 
delight, to the imminent danger of my reputation, which is exposed 
to the smpicioD» of tboee who may chance to see bnn leave the honM 
at such unseasonable hours ; and what grieves me is this, that I ova- 
not chastise, m»' even reprimand her, for tiiough I am alarmed at her 
conduct^ X am wunpdied to- bear it in ailcnae, as she is in out 

Lothario at first suspected that this was sU artiOce in Camilla to 
deceive him, in case he bad seen the man going out of the bouse : but 
he was soon convinced of her stnoerity, and felt ashamed and full 
of remoTM at bis unjust suspicions. However, bo endeavoured to 
tranqnilliso Camilla, and promised to curb Leonela'a insolence. Ha 
then confessed to her toe fnnoaa fit of jealousy that had taken 
pcesession of him, and what had passed betweou Anselmo and himself 
wliile be was under its influence. He entreated her to pardon hia 
madness, and to-devise some means of averting the mischief b which 
his laabness bad involved t.bem both. Camilla was surprised on 
heuinK Lothario's confession, and expressed no little resentment 
towards him for having liariioared such unworthy suspicions of her, 
as well OS for the rash and inconsiderate sti:p he hud taJicn. But she 
faistantly thought of an expedient to rep^ the state of their affairs, 
whieil at present seemed ao desperate ; for women have naturally a 
ready invention, either for good or evil, thoush thev are not ciuaHj' 
siKxissfiil in their premeditated schemes. She desired Lothario to 
introduoe her husband to the appointed ¡ilace of concealment the 
ftJkiwin^ day, in pursnance of a ¿Ian by which she proposed to facili- 
tate their future intercourse ; ana, witbont letting him into the whole 
of her design, she on)r desired him, after Anselmo was posted, to be 
ready at Leonela'e call, and to answer whatever she should sav to him, 
iust as be would do if he were unconscious that Anselmo wa* 
listening. Lothario pressed her to explain 1u him her whole design, 
that ha might be the better prepiuea. " No other preiiaration is 
necwsary," replied Camilla; "you have only (o give inc direct «nswer»." 
She was unwilling to impart to him the whole design, lest he should 


181 sos ^UIXOTS. 

Lothario tlien left Lor ; and the nest da; Atuelmo, ancler pretcnM 
of going to his friend's villa, ncut from home, but immeclistclf 
tetarncd to his hiding-pliicc, where he remained in a stale oí Titileut 
perturbation, aa moy readily be imagined, since he thought himself on 
the pomt of witnessing his own dishonour uid losing that treasure 
vhich he hod fancied he possessed ia his beloved CamlUa. 1'he 
mistress and mud having nsccrtained that Anselnio iraa bcliind the 
hangiusSi entered the wardrobe together, when Camilla, heaving a 
deep sigh, said, " Ah, mv Leonela, would it not be better yon should 
plunge Aiselmo's sword into this infamous bosom P But no !— why 
should I alone he punislied for another's fault P IwiU firat know 
what the insolent LothEuio saw in me to encourage hini to make so 
wicked an attempt against my honour and tliat of his friend, (¡a 
to the window, Leonela, and call him ; for I doubt not bnt that lie is 
waiting in the street, in eipectatiou of aucceedinj; in his atrocious 
design— but my purpose shall sooner be executed." "Ah, dear 
madam !" cried the sjtfal Leonela, " what do you mean to do with 
that dagger? Is it to be used against yourself or Lothario P In 
either case both your reputation and mine will suffer. Bear the insult 
be has offered you, rather than let this wicked man into the house 
now th^ we are alone. Ckinsider, madam, we are helpless women, 
and he is a strong man, bent upon a villanous purpose ; and before 
you could effect yours be might ¿o worse thau deprive you of life. A 
mischief take my master Anselmo, for giving this impudent felW»uch 
an ascendancy in his house ! Bat pray, ma<^m, if you kill him— wiiich 
E is your inlcntion— what shall we do with his bodvP" 
ny fnend?" answered Camilla; "why, leave him here for 
to inter, for it is bnt just he should have tlie satisfiiotiim of 
is own infamy. Call him immediately j for every moment's 
my revenge is an offence against that loyalty I owe to my 

this Anselmo listened^ and every word spoken by CRmilla 
intended effect upon him; and when she talked of killing 
he was on the point of coming fortli to prevent it. but was 
by the strong desire he had to see the end of so gallant and 
TÍrtuous a resolution ¡ intending, however, to appear in time to pre- 
vent mischief. Camilla was in the next place taken with a stiong 
faintinjr-fít, and throwing herself upon a couch, Leonela began to 
weep bitterly, eiclaiming, "Ah, woe is me! that the flower (rf virtue, 
the crown of ^ood women, the pattern of chastity, should die liero in 
my arms I" with other such expressions which might well have made 
her pass, with whoever heard them, for the most virtuous and faithful 
damsel in the universe, and her lady for another pcrseonted Pcneltqie. 
Camilla having recovered from her swoon, said. Why do you not go, 
Iieonela, and call the most faithless friend that ever existed F Be 
quick, run, fly — let not the fire of my i^e evaporate by delay, and my 
just vengeance be spent in empty threats and curses!" "lani going 
to call liim," said Leonela; hnt, dear madam, you must first (tive 
roe that dagger, lest, when 1 am gone, you should give those who lore 
jou cause to weep all their lives." "(Jo, dear Leonela, and fear 
not," said Camilla : " I will not do it : for though I am resolute in 
defendii^ my honour, I shall not act like Lucretia, who is said to 
have killed herself without having committed any funh, and without 
first takkg his Ufe who was the cause of her misfortune. Yea, I 

, , . .A.OOgIC 


víU die, die I most ; but it abül be after I hsT« satiated uf rerenge 
on liim vho has insulted ni« without provocation." 
iJlet much entreatjF^ Leonela obe|ed', and while she iras awaT, 

ladeoeiTe hun P Surelj', it would ; but then I should go nnrevenged, 
our would nijr husband's honour be satisfied if he were to escape with 
impunitf . Txo I let the traitor pay fur his iosoleuce with his life I 
and if ever the affair be known, Camilla sh.-ill be vindiistcd to the 
world. It mif;ht, indeed, bare been bctt<?r to Lave disclosed all to 
Anselmo, but he disregnrded my bints— his own oonSding nature 
would not admit of a tliought prejudiraal to Ms friend. Scarcolf 
could I trust my own seoses when he first declared himself. Sut 
wherefore do I talk, tbos ? M.J resolution is taken— Yes, vengeance 
on the traitor I Let him die ! Unspotted lay husband received me 
to bi* anns, and unspotted I will leave him, though bathed in my own 
Uood and that of the falsest of frienda." She now paced about the, 
room with the drawn daggei in ber band, taking such iiregnlar and 
huse itridetb and wkb such gestures, that ber brain seemed di»- 
OTMral, asd ake was more li^ a desperate ruffian than a delicata 

All this Anselmo observed with amazement &om behind the airas, 
and tbinkiog that what ha had witnessed was sufficient to dispel 
doubts still greater than those he had entertained, he began to wish 
that Lotbanomiebt not come, for fear of some fatal accident, and was 
upon the i^oint oi rushiuj^ out to clasp bis wife in bis arms, when he 
waa prevoLted h; the return of Leonela, accompanied b; Lothario ; 
npon wboae entisnoe Camilla drew with the dagger a long line 
b^ween them, and said ; " Observe, Lothario, if yon due to pasa tbat 
line I will instantly pierce mv breast with this dagger. But listen to 
what'I have to s»; to yon. la ttfe first place tell me, Lothario, do 
~" know Auaelmo, my husband, and in wliat estimation do yon hold 

? Tell me also whether you know me ? Answer me at once — 

for tbMB are aitaple queetiuns." Lotliorio easily comprehended her 
dtsigiV andaeoorotngly humoured it, so that they managed tiie whole 
Bcentt adminjil]' togelhra. " I did not imagine, fair Camilla," lie 
replied, " that you called me to (uiswer to tilings so foreign to the 

Suryoae for which I came hither. If it be to delay the promised 
kVtHV, why not have adjourned it to a still farther d^ ?— for the nearer 
the proepeot of posaession, the more eager we are for the enjoyment. 
In HMwer to your questiuus, I say that I have known your husband 
Anoelmo from infancy ; of our friendship I will say nothing, that 
'' ' "" — "' '~-' " -'•'-- -FTong whict '"~ " ^ 


I may not be witness against myself of the wrong which love- 

powerful exooie for greater buits--compels me to commit against 
nim. lou, too, I know, and adore—for less excellence I should 
not have transgressed the htws of friendship, which are now violated 
by ita potent adversary, love." " If you acknowledge so much," 
rephed Camilla, " thou mortal enemy of all deserving love ! how 
dim you ^4>ear before me— the beloved of Anselmo, whom without 
pioróeation yon injure f But, tdas I unhappy creature that I am I 
perhapa ttno(»Bciously I may have encouraged yonr presumption, not 
by inuMdnb, hot thrw^h some inadvertency into which a woman 
uuv Hmeeenily fell when she ccnoaTes no reserve to be tteoeasary. 


and four presents rejected with scorn P Still I talie hiame to myseU 
fot íaving moved j'ou to socrimiuftl on »ttf mpt, and I cannot acquit 
myself of indiscretion, since yoa hsTe nourished hope ; I will, there- 
fore, suffer tlie punishment due to your offence, and haTe hroui^ht yon 
hitlier to witness the sacrifice I intend to make to the wounded 
honour of my worthy hushand,' who by yon has been driibernteiy 
injured; and, alas! by me also, through nesl'Cence; the thou^tof 
waich ia so RgcHiizins to me that I «m impatient to become my own 
executioner. Yea, I will die ! but not withoat rerenmias my¿airon 
hoD who has reduced me to this state of desperation ! " 

At these wotda she' Hew upon Lothario wiLh the drawn dagger 
with such incredible foroe and velocilty, and apparently so determined 
to atob him to the heart, that he was atmost in doubt himself whether 
her^rts were feigned or real, koA he was obtíjed to exert all his 
dexterity to escape a wound : indeed, she acted so mueh ta t)ie ufe 
that she aotmdty shed her own blood. iFicdinar, or rather fdnting, 
that she was unable to stab I^thario, she exclaimed, " Thougii fat» 
deiies me complete satisfaction, it shtU not disappoint me of one part 
of my revenge!" Then, forcibly releaainR her dastRer-haad from the 
grasp of Lothsiio, she directed tbe point sgainst herself (beinc, Imw- 
erer, careful in her choice of* the part); and haviiiK wmmded beroolf 
on tbe left side, near the shoidder, she fell, as if (hintini;, to tbe 
groond. Leonela and Lothario stood in amaicment at this «ictira^ 
»B¿ knew not what ta think when they saw Camilla lyin^ on tke floor 
batbed in her own blood.- Lothorio ran up to her, tetrifled aui 
brefttbiess, to draw out the daeper ; but on pereeivinp the sli)Atno3B 
of the wouHd, his fears'Tsnisiied, and he admired thc'sa^niei^i PHf 
dence, and ingenuity of the fair Camillas And now he took no his 
^[t, and besan to make i most pathetic lamentation over the bod7-of 
Camilla, as if she were* dead ; imprecriing lieaty curses, not only oil 
Umself, but on him who had beeii the caase of this disaster : 'his 
grief, in short, appeared so inconsolable, that 'he seemed an objeot 
eren of crealer oompassion than Camilla herself, Leonel» toot her 
lady in her arms, and ¡aid her on the couch, heseecbinr Lothan» 
secretly to procore medical aid. She also desired bis advioe as ta 
what they shouM say to Anselmo, if he should return before tha 
wound was healed. He answered that they might say «hat they 
pleased, for he was not in a condition to give advine ; ul he desired 
vaa that she would endesvour to stanch the blood : as for hiraseJ^ 
be would go where he sliould never bo-seen more. Then, with erary 
demonstration of sorttw,' he left tbe boa-ie; and when-be found him- 
self alone and oat of si^lif be never ceased crossing himself in amas»- 
' it the infrenuity of Camilla and the art of Leoneta. He amused 

himself too in thinking of Anselmo'»' happfeertaiiity of posseuin» in 
his wife a second Portia, and w«s impatient to be with him, uat 
they mi^ ngoioe at the most complete imposture thet •eveT'Wsi 

Leonela sisnched her mistress's blood, of yrMA there was inst 

enouzh to give effect to her strata!!:em ; and trashinir the wouiid with 
a little wine, she bound it up as well as she ceuld. In the mean MnM 
her expressions were such as might alone have convinced Anselmo 
that in Camilla be possessed a model of chastity - and CunilLi too now 


"isB cvnoTM BmuEmrxni." 1S7 

uttered some words reproachii^ hewalf for & defioieney of ooowffe uid 
spirit in baving &iled ID ridding henelf of a life she 90 much abborred. 

She «sked ber maid's adulce, whetber or not sbe should reUt« what 
bad happened to her beloved spouse. Lsonela perstutded her to say 
nothing ftbout it, smce it would oblige him to tsJic revenue oa 
Lotliiuio, wbioh be could Dot do without f^real danger to himselr; and 
that it was the duty of a good wife to avuid every oemsíon of involv- 
i«i hwlmsband'in a quarrel. Cumilla approved her advice, and said 
she would follow it; but tliat they nrnst eonsider wbat to Bay to 
Arreelnio thoat the wound ; wjiiob he could not fail to observe. To 
vJHob Leonela answered, that for her part she could BOt tell a lie eren 
injcst. ''How then can l?"saidCamilhL "who neither codd invent, 
sorpenist in one, if it were to aavt my life Pifa good excuse cannot 
be ooDtrived, it will be better to tell bim the naked truth than be 
cauf^t in a fabebood." " Do b(A bo uneasy, madarn," answered 
Lewiela- "for betweea this and to-merrow mominx I will consider 
ttf aomctliin^ to4«li.hiin; and perhaps vou may be able to conceal the 
would from hii sight, aád Heaven will befriend us. Compose your- 
■elf, good madam ; cudeavmuto quiet your spirits, that my master 
i»KT not Gnd'TOn in each agitation : and leave tbe rest to my care, and 
toHeaven, whii^ ^ays favoors the honest purpose." 

&s death of 'his hononr; ia whidi tbe actori performed with somneh 
eipreasioa and "pathos that they seemed tranafoirned into the very 
(^■raoters they penonated. He longed for night, that he might have 
sa oppoTtanity of slipping out of hia honae 'Id sec his dear frieod, 
Lothsiio, and r^oice witb bin on finding so precious a jewe), by tbe 
b^py devebpment of his wife's virtue. They both took care to give 
hka aaopportnuity to retreitj of which ho instantly availed himself, 
t» hasten in sewch of Lnthano;- and on their meeting, his embraces 
were innumerable, and his'pruses oÍ Camilla onbouuded. All which 
Lothaño listened to without being able to testify any j(^-, for ho 
ooiüd not but retlect how much kis friend was deceived, and bow 
iBigenerotisly he-wa» treated. Anselmo perceived -that Lotliario did 
Dot express any pleasure, but he asoribed it to Camilla'a wound, of 
vhic^ te had benithe occasicn. Ue therefore desired Mm not to ba 
Bnhappy about Camilla, as the wound must -^ slight, since she and 
her inaui had agreed to hide it- from Inm ; he might then be assured 
ttuit ther» was no cause tor alarm, hnt much for joy ; for that by bis 
teandly exertions he wa» elevated to tbe hishest «ummit of human. 
Citliinty ; and he desired no better amusement than to write verses in 
pniie of Camilla, to perpetuate ber memcTy to ail future ag^. 
Lottaano oommeiided his reeolution, and protmsed his asaistance in 
the exeontion of so meritorions a woit 

Thus Anselmo remained the most agreeably deceived maa that ever 
existed. Ue led home under his arm the instrument, as he thought, 
of hia glory, but in truth, his banc; who was received by Camilla with 
«frowning- aspect, but a joyful heart. This imposture lasted for a 
few months, when Tortane tuminp her wheel the iniquity hitbaito 
90 artfnity concealed came to L[;ht, and Anselmo's impertinent 
it hink his life. 




The novel vas uearlv finislied, wiien Suiclio Fanu, full of ^simf, 
canie mnniiiK out of Don Quixote's chamber, crying alaud, " Hun, 
gentlemen, quickly, and snocour my master, wlio is over head ana 
feti in the toughest battle my eyes ever bclield. As Guri shall save 
me, be has given the eiant, tfiat enemy of tiie Princess MicomiconL 
such a stroke that be oas cut bis bead as clean off his shoulders as if 
it bad been a turnip !" "What say you, brother P" qnoth the priest, 
lajing aside the Bovel. " Are you in yonr senses, Sancho F How can 
this possibly be, since the giant is two thousand lea^ies ofTF" At 
that instant they heard a frreal noise in the room, and Ikn Quixote 
calling: akiud, " Stay, cowardly thief 1 ttibber ! rogue I Hero 1 have 
you, and your soimitar shall avail jou nothing !" 'Hien followed tbe 
sound of strokes and alashes against tlie walls. " Do not aland 
listening-," quoth Sancho, " bnt go in and end the tray, or help my 
master ; though by this time there will be no occasion ; as I dare say 
the giant is dead, and giving an account to God of his past wickM 
life ; for I saw tbe blood run about t!ie door, and tho l¿ad out ofT, 
lyiiw aa one aide, and as big as a wine-skin." " I will be hanged," 
exclaimed the innkeeper, " if Don Quixote, or Don Devil, has not 
gashed some of the wine-skjns Uiat hung at his bed's-head; and the 
wine he has ^ilt this fellow takes for blood." So saying, be rushed 
into the room, followed by the n'hole company ; and they found Dos 
Quiiote in the strangest situation imaginable. Uc was in bis shiit, 
and on his bead a bttle greasy red oap which belonged to tbe inn- 
keeper. About his left arm benad twisted tbe bed-blanket (to which 
S»ncho ow«d a grudge— he well knew whyX and in his right hand he 
held his drawn sword, with vbi(^ be was laying about him on all 
EÍdca,callinKoiitaaif in actnal combat; bis eyes were shut, bein^ still 
asieef), and dreaming that he .was engaged in battle with the giant: 
foi' lus mind was eo full of the adventure which he bad undertaken 
tliat be dreamt that, having reached the kingdom of Micomicon and 
engaged in combat with bis enemy, he was clearing the giant down 
with a stroke that also proved fatal to the wine-skins, ¿ad set ttie 
whole room aUoat with wme. The innkeeper seriiui this, was in such 
a tnge, that with his clencbed fists he fell so furiously upon Don 
Quixote, that if Gardenia and the priest bad not taken liim off, be 
would have put an end to the war of the giant. 'ITie barber secÍBjt 
that the poor gentleman was not awake, he Drought a large bucket of 
cold water, with which he soused him all over; and even that ablu- 
tion did not restore him so entirely as to make him sensible of his 
situation. Dorothea percoivmg how scantily he was arrayed, would 
not stay to see the fight between her champion and his adversary. 
Sanoho saarohed abo"' '"" """ '"" ■""' """ "' "' """ ~-"' """"■ — ' 
finding it, he said, " 


honae ii enc^antmant : for the last time I was here I had thumps and 
blowa giren me io this Terv same placo bjr an inTJsible hand ; and nov 
the head is viuiahed, vliicli I uiw cut off with mj' own eyes, and the 
blood spouting from the body like any fountain." "What blood, and 
what fountain? thou euemj to God and hia saints!" «aid the inn- 
keeper ; " dost thou not see, fellow, that the blood and the fountain 
arc nothing but these skins ripped open, and the red vine floating 
tbont the room? Perdition catch his son) that pierced them!" " So 
much the worse for me," said Sancho^ " for want of this head, I shall 
see my earldom melt away like salt in water." Thns Saneho awake 
*B8 as wise as Don Quixote asleep, his head bein^ quite tnmed hy 
his master's promises. The innkeeper bst all patience at the indif- 
ference of the squire and the miscliievous havoc of the knight; and 
he swore they should not escape, as they did before, without pa^in^t 
and tjtat the prinlc^ee of his chivalry shonld not exempt him ttiis 
time from disátarging both reckonings, eren to the patching of the 

Don Qiiiiote (whose hands were held by (he priest) now conceiv- 
ing the adventure tn be finished, and that ne was in the presence of 
the princess Micomioon^ fell on his knees before the priest, and said, 
" High and renowned lady, joor highness may henoefbrward live 
secure oí harm from that ill-bom wretch, I have now discharged the 
IHOmise I gave yon. since, by the asaistance of Heaven, and thrwirfi 
the favonr of her by whom I live and breathe, I have so happuv 
■coompiished the enterprise." "Did not I tell jou so?" quotn 
Smeho, hearing this : yoD see I was not dniuk—look if my master 
bus not already put the giant in pickle ! Here are the bnlfa ! ■ my 
earldom is cock -sure," Who could help laughing at the absurdities n 
eoth iaast«r and man ? They were all diverted esc^t the innkeeper, 
«ho swore tike a trooper. At lenrlh the barber, Cardenio, and the 
priest, with much difficulty, gijt l>on Quixot« upon his bed again, 
where, exhausted with his labour, he slept soundly. They lett him 
to his repose, and went ont to the inn.door, trying to comfort Sancho 
for his disappointment in not flnding the giant's head ; but they had 
mocrt troable in pacifying the innkeeper, who was in despair at the 
imtmely death of his wme-skins. The hostess grumbled too, mut- 
tering to herself : " In an evil honr this knight-enant came into my 
bouse! O that I had never set my eye* on him, for he has been a 
deu Rnest to me 1 The last time be went away without paying his 
night'a reckoning for supper, bod, itraw, and barley, for himself, 
scroire. Ida horse and ass ; telling us, forsooth, that he was a knieht- 
■oventarer— evil befal hhn. and iJi tne adventurers in the world ! — 
nd so Ke wm not obligea to pay anything, according to the rales 
of knigbt«rTsntry. It was on his account, too, this other gentle- 
ntm oames off my tail, which he returns me damaged and g«>d for 
BoUrin^ : and, after alL to rip open my skins, and let out my wine— 
would it were his blood I But he shdl not escape agiün ■ for by the 
bones of my father, and the soul of my mother, ther shall pay me 
down upon the nail every fert^iing, or I am not my father's daugh' 
i_i.i rm. — jl^ l.-,l„ _gjj^ iju ¡jj great wrath; and honest 
¡stress. The daughter held her peace, 
e mob in Sptln, when tb^ *M the bulls 

190 vox ^vaaa. 

but now and then tmilpd. Tbe prieet ende&TosKd to qiuiet all af 
tlieiiL ; proiiibiDg to inuke the best reparUion in hú power for the 
afcins as well as tlie vine -, md especially i<x tbe damifce done to tie 
tail wLicIt titer vdned su much. Dorotbea eoEiTorted Sancho Pani^ 
1«I1ÍD9 him that if it should reallf appear that bia muter had cnt oS 
the giant's head, ahe vauld, vhen peaceabl/ seated on ber throng 
bestow on him tbc best earldom in her domimont. With this inroinise 
Bancho -was comforted, and he aisured the princess that she might 
depend upon it he hod eeen the slant's head, and that it had a bai^ 
«hicb reached down tothe girdle: and if it could not be {osad it 
wae owiu^ to the witchcraft in that bouse, of which he bad seeo 
and felt enough the last time they lodged there. Dorothea agreed 
with him ; but assured him that all would end well aod to his 
heart's desire. Trgnquillity being now restored, the priest wss 
requested bv Cardemo, Dorothea, and the rest, lx> read the remaisder 
of the novel; and to please them, as well as huntdf, he Eontinacd as 

follows ; — 

Anselmo now lived Tterfectiy happy and free from care, being 
oonvinced of Camilla's virtue. She affected to treat Lotbario wiUi 
coldness, to deceive ber husband, and Lothario entreated bim to 
excuse his visits to the house, since it was plain that the sight of him 
was disa^Teeahle to bis wife. But tbe duped Anselmo woiUd bj no 
means comply with his request ; and thus by a thousand differtait 
ways be administered to his own dishonour. As for Leonela, she was 
M pleased to find herself thus at liberty, that, regardless of entj- 
thing, she abuidoned herself to her plenmres without the leMt 
restraint, being certam of her lady's conmvanoe and beln. 

In short, one ni^lit Ansehio neard steps in Leoneiia's chaubor; 
and on his attemptm^ to ^ in to see who it was, he found the door 
held against him, which made him only more determined to be satis- 
fied ; he iberefore burst open the door, and just ai he entered saw a 
man leap down from the window int« the street. He would imme- 
diately have pursued him, but was preveoted by Leoneia, who oLtmg 
about him, có'inü'i " Dear sir, be calm ; do not be angir, niv pursue 
the man who leaped out ; he belongs to me—in fac^ ne is my hus- 
band." Anselmo would not believe Leonela, bnt drew bis nooJard ú 
a creat fui7, and threatened to stab her if she did not tell him the 
whole truth. In her fright, not knowing what she said, she cried out, 
" Do not kill me, sir, and 1 will tell you things of greater importanoe 
than jou can imiwine," " Tell am them quiokfy," said Anselmo, 
"or you area deaa woman I" "At present it is impossible," said 
Leonela, " I am in such confusion ; let me alone until to-mortov 
morning, and then jou shall bear what will astonish you : in the mean- 
time be assured that the person who jumped out at tbe wmdon ia a 
younz man of ibe city who has given me a promise of miniage." 
Anselmo was now appeased, and consented to wait till next morning 
for an explanation: never dreaming tliat he should hear anything 
against Camilla, But he locked Leonela into her room, teUing ber 
that she should not stir thence until he had heaid what she had to 
oommunicate. He went immediately to Camilla, and related to ber 
all that bad passed with her waiting-woman, and the promise she had 
given to impart to him things of the utmost importanoe. It is need- 
less to say whether Camilla was alanned or not : so great was her 
consternation that, never doubting of Leonela's intentit» to ttU 


"the cueious utaoinaiiT" cokcludsd. m 

•^TiMliinn all the knew of her infidelity, she had not tlie oonrage to 
vait unlii ike om wLetlier her fears were well or ill-grouudcil. But 
Uftt Bame night, when Anselmo vas aakep, she ooUecttNl hn jewds, 
with (Ome mone)', and prÍTatel; leaving lier house, went to LoÜiarío, 
to «bom abe eomranniáttedwlút had passed; desiring liim toooodnct 
hei to a place of safety, or to aqcompaa; her to some retreat where 
tíuf nicht live secure from Anselmo. Lothario was so couioundod 
that be Uev not «hut to say or how to act. At length ha pro- 
pCBcd to conduot her to a OMivent of which his sister was the 
mioENi. Camilla oonsentciil, and Lothario iniinediMel; oDBT«fed 
Mr to the monuttfy, whert he left ber. Ue likewise absented huo- 
ielf from the ei^. 

At daybreak Anselmo arose, without obserriox Camilla's absence, 
■nd, imp&tient for Leonek's oommunication, he hastened to the 
«bnaber in which he hadcoofiaedher. He opened the dooc andweat 
in, bat foond no Leonel» there : he onlf found the abeets tied to the 
window, by npans of which it appeared she bad slid down and made 
h» eaaipa. Ho retamed, maco disappoiute<L to inform Camilla of 
tho ciroumstnnce, andoot finding herioWbed, nor in any part of the 
loose, be was all asUmishment. He inquired of the servants for her, 
•nd no one could give him any tidiois. Eut when he fuiind hw 
jeweb gone he b^an to suspect the fatal truth. >'ull of grief and 
'ooDstematioB, he ran balf-dns*ed to the honae of his friend Lotfasjia> 
toiteD him of his disaster; and bein^ informed by bis servants Hut 
their master had fcone away in the night with all the money he h»d 
by bim| hs became nesdy irantio. To complete his misery, on bis 
return home be found bis house entirely deserted, every servant; 
■de aaú female, baring qnitted it, Ue was unable either to think, 
-■pei^ or act, and his senses cratbiallv be^an 'o fail iiim. In an 
inetaat he fotmd bimsdf fotsakeu byniswife, his friend, and even 
hia acrraats — robbed of honour, abandoned by Heaven ! He at last 
lestdved to leave the city and go to the frieiiid he bnd visited before. 
Bsmi^ looked np his bouse, he mounted on horseback and set out, 
ted with sorrow ; but before he bad reached half-way, over- 
id with the thoughts of bis mísfortnne, he was unable to pro- 
..jd: be therefore «lignted and tied his horse toa tree, at the foot 
of which he sunk down and g«ve vent to the most bitter and moum- 
fal lamentatioDS. There he remained till evenintr, when a man on 
horseback happening to pass that way, he saluted hbn, and inquired 
«hat news there was in Florence. Ven strange news, indeed," 
nid the man ; " for it is publicly reported that last night Lothario, 
•the rich Anselmo's particular friend, carried off Camilla, wife to 
-Anselmo; and that he also is missing. AH this was told by Camilla's 
naid^ervant, whom the governor caught in the night letting herself 
ÓBWB by a sheet from a window of Anselmo's bouse. However, I do 
not kDOW all tbe particalars: I only know that tbe whole town is in 
ntooiabatent at this eveot, for no one could have expected any soch 
tíiÍBf;, considering the great friendship of tbe gentlemen, which wss 
M remarkable that they were styled the Two Priends," " Is it 
known," said Anselmo, " what road Lothario and Camilla have 
■ lakoi ? " " It is nof," replied tbe cLtiien, " idthough the governor 
has ordered diligent seart^ to be made alter tbeni." " Heaven be 
vith you ! " said Ansehno. " And with you also," said the man, who 
frooÑded raibia way. 


19S Dov qinxoTE. 

This dismal ners almosi bereaved Anselmo both of his senses and 
his life. With difficaltr he mounted his horae i^eia, tad reached the 
honae of his friend, who oad not yet heard of his misfoitune ; but seeing 
him pale, spiritless, and faint, he coneloded that he had met with 
some heavy affliction. Anaefmo begged he would lead him to a 
chamber and give him pen, ink, an¿|)aper. Ther «•mpliell with his 
request, leaving him alone on the bed. So acnte was now the sense 
of his misery, that Jie felt it was impossible for him to survive i^ 
and he wished to leave behind some memorial of the osase of his 
death; bnt before he could write all he intended, bis breath failed 
him, and he expired — a victim to that grief wbich he had brought 
upon himself by his impertinent curiosity. 

The master of the house, after some time, went to Anse^mo's cham- 
ber to inquire after him, when he found him Iviog upon his face, 
his body half in bed, and half resting on the table, apon which Uia 
A written paper— the pen was still in his hand. His friend spoke 
to him, and approachmg' him took hold of hb hand, but he found 
him cold and oreathlcss. Surprised and grieved, he called his 
family to witness the disostrona end of AnseLno. Oo the paper he 
then read the following lines, which he knew to be Anaelmo's naud- 

Camilla hear of my death, let ber know Uuil _. _ ..__, 

was not obliged to perform miracles, nor oogbt Ito have required 
tbem of her : and since 1 was the contriver Ot my own dishñionr, 
there ia no reasoa why " 

Thus far had Anselmo written, unable, as it appeared, to finish the 
sentence. On the following day bis friend seat to inform his relations 
of the aad event. They already knew of his disgrace and the retre^ 
of his wife. Camilla, indeed, was on the point of quitting life at the 
same time as her hnsband— not for grief at his fat^ but at her lover's 
i^senoc. Although now » widow, she would neither leave the con- 
vent nor take the veil until some time after, when intelligence 
reached her that Lothario had been slam in a battle fought between 
UonsieurdeLautreo and that ereat commander Gonzalo Fernandez of 
Cordua. in the kingdom of Naples, whither the too-late repentant 
friend had retreated. She then took the religious habit, and died 
shortly after a pray fa sorrow. Sach was the fatal cataatrophe of a 
drama which commenced in foLv. 

" I like this novel very wetl," swd the priest, " bat I cannot 
persuade myself that it is true ) and if it be a fiction, the author has 
eired against probabilitv; for it is impossible to conceive that an; 
husband would be so absurd as to venture upon so daugerous an 
experiment m that made by Anselmo. Had this case been supposed 
between a g»llant and his mistress, it mi^t pass- but between 
basband and wife it is quit« inoredible. However, the story is not 
ill told." 

UignieUb, Google 


Wiich trait of i>(i«r tmamnon i%admit thai iajiprntd at tiU fxa. 

" Eh 1 b; onr Lady ! " suddenly exclaimed the hoai, wbo was stand- 
ing at the inn-dobr, " here comes a ^oodlv oompMy of ^etrts I If 
Üiey stop hete, we shall sing be jotfiil!" What are therf" 
uid Cardenio. "Four men, answered the host, "on horsebac», i, 
la Gineta," with lancea and targets, and black maskat on tlicir faces ; 
and there is a woman with them, on a side-saddle, dressed in white, 
and her face likewise covercd^'besidcs these, there aic two lads on 
foot." "Are they near?" said tbe priest. "So near," replied the 
innkeeper, " that they are already at the door." Dorothea, hearing 
this, veiled her face, and Cardenio retired to Don Quixote's cham- 
ber. When the persons mentioned by the host entered the yard, 
the fonr horsemen (who appeared to be gentlemen), havinsf alignted, 
went to assist the Isdy to dismoant ; and one of them taking ner in 
his arms, placed her in a chair near the door of the chamber to 
which Cardenio had retired. During all this time not one of the 
party had taken off their masks, or spoken a word. The lady when 
seated in a chair heaved a deep sigh, and her arms hung bstlesaly 
down, as if she were in a weak and fainting state. When the aervanla 
took the horses to the stable, the priest followed and questioned 
one of them, being curióos to know wbo these people were. "In 
troth, signor," replied the servant, " I cannot tell vou who they are ; 
hut they must be people of quality, especially he who took the lady in 
his arms, because all the rest pay him such respect and do nothing 
but what he orders and directs." " And the lady, pray who is 
she?" asked the priest. "Neither can I tell that," replied the 
Iftcqney ; " for I bave not once seen her face during tbe whole 
joumev. I often, indeed, hear her sigh, and utter such groans that any 
one of them was enough to break her heart; but ¡t is no wonder 
that we cannot tell you any more, as my comrade aiid 1 have been 
only two days in their service ; for having met us opon the road, thoy 
persuaded us to go with them as far as Andalusia, and promised to pa; 
us well." " Have you heard any of their names ?" said the priest. "No, 
indeed," answered the lad, for they all travel in so much silence, 
we hear nothing but the sighs and the sobs of the poor lady, whidi 
move our pity ; and wlieresocver she is going, we suspect ¡t is against 
her nill. Trom her habit she must be a nun, or peroaps going to be 
made one, and not from her own choice, which makes her so sorrow- 
ful." " Very likely," quoth the priest: and then leaving them, he 

retonied to ine room where he had left Dorothea, whose cf ''" 

being excited by the sighs of the masked lady, she appr 

• A mode of sidlBg wili aliort t&cmpt, which the Spaniaids took ftum 

f A pie^^e of tliin black ülk worn befar« tlis face in travelling, not for 
di^ntBe, but to keep off the dint and nm. 

191 DOK QinxOTK. 

and said, " Toa seem id dútress, dear madam ; if it be in the pover 
of woman to render yon any sorice, most willingly lofferyoü mine." 
The afflicted lady returned no answer; and iJtlioQgh Dorothea 
renewed her offers, she persisted in her silenco until the caiaher in 
the mask, who seemed to be superior of the p^y, cfune up and said 
to Dorothea, " Trouble not j-ouisel^ madam, to oner anything to this 
woman ; for she is very nngrateful ; nor endeaTour to set on answer 
from her, unless you wish to hear some falsehood." " fio," said the 
bdy, who had hitherto been silent ; " on the contrary^ it ia from mj 
STersion to falsehood that I am thus wretobed ; for it is my trotn 
alone which makes you act so false and treacherous a part." 

Tliese words were distinctly heard bv Cardenio, who was Tery near 
to the speaker, being separated only oy the door of Don Quiiote's 
chamber: and, on heari " ' ■ ' ' ' ' " " ' 
what dol hearf what t 
The lady, in much snrpri 
and, not seeing who uttered them, she started up, and was going into 
the room, when the cavalier detained her, and would not euffer her to 
niove a step. In this sudden commotion her mask fell off, and dis- 
covered a face of incomparable beauty, although pale and full of 
terror; for she looked wildly around her, eiamining every place 
with so much eagerness that she seemed distracted, and excited the 
sympathy of Dorothea and others of_the party, who could not con- 
jecture tie Ci * ' " IT held her fast by the 
shoulders, am could not keep on bis 
mask, which d Dorothea, who also 
had Der arm. cs, discovered in the 
stranger — hei instantly, with a long 
and disinalOl ind had not the barber, 
who stood c!c ! would have fallen to 
the ground. er veil to throw water 
in her face : lised her. and seemed 
petrified at th >t his bold of Lucinda, 
who was the ¡ase herself from him ; 
for she knei ecollected hera. The 
groan of Dor ;atd by Cardenio, who 
believing it c oto the room, and the 
first object hi Lucinda in his arms. 
They all ga» : none seemed able to 
utter a word. L'ueinda was the first who recovered the power of 
speech, and she thna addressed Don Fernando : " Let me go, my 
lord r I entreat jou, as you are a gentleman^ that you will suffer me 
to fly to the protection of him from whom m vün you have ende»- 
Toured to separate me. See how tnystcriousk Heaven has conducted 
me into the presence of my true husband! You well know, by« 
thousand proofs, that nothing can shake the faith I have pledged to 
him. Cease, therefore, vour fruitless persecution, or let your iove be 
converted into rage, and destroy me; for then at least I shall die in 
the presence of mv beloved, who by my death will be convinced of my 
inviolable fidehtv. 

Dorothea in the mean time bad recovered her senses, and hearinK 

what Luciuda said, she conjectured who she was. Seeing that Don 

Temando atill held her, she approached him, and threw herself at hb 

feet, her kvelf &oe bauicd in ttan. " Ah, my lord 1" said she, "were 

, , . .A.OOgIC 

cnntí nciDXHiB u the un. 195 

yod not duzled hj thai, heaxitj in your amu, yon wtnild see the 
nnliAppr Dorothea, who ¡b now prostrate at f oui feet. I am that 
biunhle coimtrr Rirl whom you youciisafed to call jonrs ; Bhe who 
lived k liappj and oiodest life lutil, seduced hj your importonities, 
ftnd the apparent sincerit; of your affection, she resigned her libert; 
to f ou. How you requited her is now too maoifest ! But do not 
think that I haie followed the path of dishonour : ^ef and misery 
•lone hare attended my steps since your cruel desertion. When I was 
persnaded to bind myself to you, it was wit!) ties that, clianred as 
yoor seotimenta may be, can never be dissolved. Ah, m v lord ! wUl 
not my tenderness compensate for the beauty and rank of her for 
whom you abandon me r Hecollect that you are mine, and that 
Lucinda belongs to Cai^enio : surely it will be easier for you to revive 

tour own love towards her who adores you, than to inspu^ with love 
er who hates yoo. You were not igooraat of my condition when I 
eonsentod to become youn on hononrable terms : then, as you are a 
Christian and a gentleman, I claim the fulfilment of your promise, for 
I am your true and lawful wife. StilL if vou refuse to acknowledga 
me, protect me as your slave, and I will submit; but do not abandon 
me to the world.— do not afflict the declining years of my parents, 
who have ever been your faithful vassals. Think not of theu' mean- 
nesa—for rank is not essential in a wife ; besides, true nobility consists 
in virtue, and if you forfeit that by wronging me, you degrade yourself 
below me. £ut however yoo may please to act towards me, my lord, 
lam still your wife — witness vour words, witness yonr lettera, ana 
witness Heaven, whom you called upon to sanctify our mutual vows I 
LasUy, I appeal to yonr conscience, which will embitter with self- 
leproach eveiy eDJoyment of your life, if you fail to listen to ito 

The afflicted Dorothea urged these and other arenments in so affect- 
bg a manner that she excited the most lirely interest in all present. 
Don remando Ustoned in silence to her wráils, which were followed 
by such bursts of overwhelming grief, that no human heart could 
witness it without emotion. Lucinda longed to comfort her, and 
condole with her, but she was still detained. Don femando at length 
■nddenly disengaged his arms from her, aft«r having nied awhile on 
Dorothea. " lou hare conquered, fair Dorothea ! " he exclaimed, — 
" you have conqnered. There is no resistrnffvou ! " 

Xucindawas so faint, when released from Don Femando's embraoa, 
that she was just falling to the ground ; but Cárdenlo hastened to her 
«upport ; "Tnese arms7' said he, " shall protect thee, my beloved, my 
lutmnl miatiesB I Heaven grant you may now find repose I " Lucinda 
liwked upt to be asaored niat it was indeed her Cardenio, and on 
seeing his beloved face, re^dtess of forms, she threw her arms around 
his neck, and embraced him with the utmost tenderness. " Oh, Car- 
denio I you are my true lord ! Whatever the fates mi^ condemn me 
to suffer, I am for ever yours ! " 

This was an affecting scene to all present. Dorothea watched Don 
femando, and fearing that be meditated revenge on Cardenio, as be 
looked agitated, and put bis hand to his sword, she clung sronnd him, 
emteaeingluB knees, and said to liim, " What means my love, my only 
lefugef^Behohlyoiirtruewife at yonr feet! Lncindais in the arms 
c^her husband. toA even in your presence bedews his bosom with 
tears of love; now thea cmi joa think of uniting yoniself to herí 
»» ,, ..A.OOgIC 

196 i>ov QxnxoTB. 

For Heaven's sake, and the honour of your Dame, let ttieir deduc- 
tions of mutual al^ction.insteadof moTJngfour wrath, induce ;outO 
leave them unmolested, to pass their Uves happily together ; you vill 
thus show to the world that /on are not eovemed by your passions, 
but have a noble, generous mmd," 

While Dorothea spoke, Cardenio kept his eyes filed on Dim Fer- 
nando, and was preikred to defend himself if asaaulted by him. But 
that nohlEtnan was now smroondcd bythe whole party, not exceplJDg 
honest Sancho, who all interceded for DoKithea ; and the priest renre- 
aented to him that so singular a meeting must not be ascnbcd to 
chance, but to the special providence of HeaTcn. He beeeed him 
also to consider how vain would be the attempt to separate Cardenio 
and Lucinda, who would be happy even to die proving each other's 
faith ; and how prudent as well as noble it would be in him to trinmph 
over his passion, and freely leSve the two lovers to enjov the happi- 
ness of mutual affection. That he should turn to the lovely Doro- 
thea, who had such strong claims upon him, not only on account of 
her extreme tenderness for him, but the promises he hod made to her, 
which, as a Christian «id a man of honour, he was bound to pofonn : 
addinf; to these arguments, that it would be no derogation to his raak 
to elevate beauty adorned with virtue. 

These tnillis,so forcibly urged, were not lost npon the mind of Don 
Fernando, who embraced Dorothea, saying, "llise, mv dear lady, for 
that is not a posture for the mistress of my soul; and if I have offended 
against you, surely it has been by the will of Heaven, that I might 
know your 1 rue value, by such proofs of your constancy and affection. I 
only entreat that you will not reproach me for my involuntary offence, 
but look at the now happy Lucinda, and her eyes will plead mv excuse. 
May she enjoy long years of happiness ivitli her Cárdenlo, and Heaven 
grant me the same with my Dorothea ! " Again he pressed lier to hia 
heart, and could scarcely forbear showing his emotions of tenderness 
and repentance by tears : indeed, all the company present were so 
much affected, that their tears of sympathy might have been mistaken 
for those of sorrow. Even Sancho Pama wept ; though he owned 
afterwards that it was only because Dorothea turned not out to he the 
guecn Micomicona who was to have made his fortune, Cardenio and 
Lucinda expressed their acknowledgments to Don Fernando for his 
present conduct, in so feeling a manner, that he was too much moved 
to find words to reply to them, 

Dorothea bein^r now quest ioned by Don Fernando as to the circnm- 
stances which had brought her to that place, she gave a biicf detail 
of what she had before related to Cardenio ; and so interesting was her 
narrative to Don Fernando and his party, and so graceful herdetivery, 
that Ihey even regretted when the story of her mbfortuncs was ended. 
Don Fernando then related what he had doneafterfindiiiginLueiuda'a 
bosom the paper declaring herself the wife of Cardenio. He con- 
fessed that his Hrst inipube was to take hor life, and he should actnalljr 
have done so, bad he not been prevented by her parents ; uponwhiohho 
immediately (quitted the house, full of shame and fury, determined to 
seize the first opportunity of revenge. On the following day he heard 
that she had left her father's house, concealing the place of her retreat ¡ 
bat after some n:Dnths he discovered that she had retired to a convent, 

SÁXCBc^» irpucno». 197 

eonyent (jate wm open to moke his entrance. leaTiog two of Ms com- 
pinioos to secure the gate ; and having found Lucinda walking in the 
doistera, attended only b.v a nun, they seized her, and bore her &ve,j 
to aplace where they hnil prepared evezr accommodation necessary 
Kx their project. Lucinda, he aoid, had fainted on seeing her^if ia 
bis power, sM when her senses Mtnrned, she wept ana sighed, but 
neyer mote a single word. Thus, in silence and sonow, they had 
leached that imt, which, he trusted, was the goal of all their earthly 


Whtra'H Ú coniintiid ti4 Aúforj o/ liefamovt Infanta ilieomicona, 
vith QtA^ pteoMini <idttiitura. 

Sanciio experienced no small grief of mind on thus seeing all hii 
dopes of preferment fait disappearlui' and vanishing into smoke, b; 
the transformation of the fair princess Micoiaicona into Dorotliea, and 

Üie giant into Don Fernando ; wliile his master unconscious of what 
«as passing;, by wrapped in profound sleep. Dorothea could not be 
certain whether the happiness she enjoyed was not a dream ; and 
Cardenio and Lneinda entertained the same donbtj, Don Fernando 
gave thanks to Heaven for having delivered him from a perilous 
■itoation, in which his honour as well as his soul were in iniinlnetit 
dan^T. In short, all were pleased at the happy conclusion of such 
intncafe and hopeless affairs. The priest, like a man of sense, placed 
everything in its true lis;ht, and eonpratuluted each upon tlieir share 
of tne good fortune tliat iiad befallen them. But the landlady was 
more delighted than all ; as Cardenio and tlie priest had promised 
to pay her ivith interest for every loss she liad sustained upon Don 
Quixote's account. 

Sancho alone was afflietcd,^ unhappy, and full of sorrow ; and, with 
dismal looks he vent in to his master, just then awake, to whom be 
mid : " Yonr worship may sleep on, signor sorrowful bgure, without 
troubling yourself about killina: any giant or restoring the princess 
to her kingdom, for that is already done and over." " I verily believe 
it," answered Don Quixote, " for I have bad the most monstrous and 
dreadful battle with the giant tliat ever 1 expect to liave in the whole 
"'\ one back stroke I tumbled his bead to the 
a the quantity of blood that gushed from it, 
ig the ground like a torrent of water." " Like 
might better say," answered Sancho; "for 
) not know it already, that the dead giant b a 
the blood eiabtecn gallons of red wine con- 
id may the devil lake all for me ! " " What 
lied Don Quixote. "Art thouinthy acuses?" 
inoth Sancho, " and yon will see what a fine 
nade, and what a reckoning we have to pay i 
JO queen converted into a private lady called 
matters which, if yon take them lightly, will 

198 DO» QtnxíOT, 

aatonish jon." "1 shall wonder at notliing," replied Don Qaixote; 
" for, thoQ nftjest remember, the last time ire were here, I told thee 
that dlU things in this iilace went by enchantment ; and Ihere can bo 
nothing surpriaiag in it if this were the case again." "I should 
beliere so too," answered Sandio, " if my being t«ssed in the bUnket 
had been a matter of this nature : but it was downright real and true ; 
and I saw the rerr same innkeeper hold a comer of the blanket, 
and cant me towards heiLven with notable alacrity, laughing too all 
the time ; and whereit happens that we knoir persons, mniyopiniou 
(simple and a sinner as I am], there is no enchantment at all, hot much 
misusage and mncb mishap. "Well, Heaven will remedy it," quoth 
Don Quixote ; " gire me my clothes, that I may go and see the events 
and tnmsfonnatiuQS thou hast m - - -< <> 

Quixote's madness, and of the artifice tliev had used to get him from 
the barren mountain to which he imagined himself hanislted through 
his ladv's disdain. He related ¿so most of the adventures which 
Sancho had com iimni cat ed to theirgreat diversion and astonish- 
ment ; for they, like others, considered it as the most singular species 
of insanity that ever took possession of the imagination. The priest 
swd further that, since the lady Dorothea's good fortune would not 
permit her to prosecute their design, it was necessary to contrive 
some other expedient to get him home. Cárdenlo offered his assist- 
ance, and proposed that Lueinda should personate Dorothea. " No," 
said Don Fernando " it must not bo so ; for I will have Dorothea 
herself proceed in her part; and as this good gentleman's vill^ 
is sot far distant, I shall be glad to contribute to his cure." "It 
b not above two days'Joumev, said the priest. "If it were farther," 
said Don Fernando, " I would undertake it with pleasure for so good 
a pnrpose." 

Don Quixote now come forth, clad in all his armour ; Hambrino's 
helmet, though bruised and battered, on hia head ; his target braced, 
and resting on bis sapling or lance. His strange appearance greatly 
auiprised Don Femandoand his company, who faifed not to observe 
his long and withered visage of sallow hue, his ill -matched armour, 
and measured pace. Tbey paosed in silent expectation of heaTrng 
him speak, when with much gravity and solemnity^ fixing his eves 
upon the wr Dorothea, he said; " lam informed, fair lady, bv tnia 
my SQuire, that your grandeur is annihilated, and your very being 
demolished; and that from a queen you are metamorphosed into a 
private maiden. If this has been done by order of the necromautio 
king your father, fearing lest I should not afford you the necessary 
aid, I say he knew not one half of his art, and that he was but little 
veráed in histories of knight-errantry : for had he read them as atten- 
tively as I have read and considered them, he would have known that 
other knights, of less fame than myself, have achieved still greater 
difficulties : it being no such mighty bosiness to kill a pitiful giant, 
arrogant as he may be : for not many hours are passed since I waa 
engaged with one myself, and— I say no more, lest I should be sus- 
pected of falsehood ; but time, the revealer of all things, will declare 
It when least expected." " It was with a couple of wineskins, and 
nota giant," quoth the innkeeper— here he was inlemipted by Don 
femando, who commanded him to hold hia peace, and m no wiso ta 
, , . .A.OOgIC 


iriompt Don Quixote's disconne: wbowent (n, wio^ "laamre 

jon, therefoio, hi^ and (üainheritea lad;, that if (or the cause 1 Wo 
neiititxied jour fetbei has made this metamorpbose in joar Mraon, 
it is perfectly needless: for there ia no danger upon etulh through 
vhicE mj swwd ahall not loroe a w^; and bj bringing down the h^ 
of your enemy to the ground, shortl; place upon jooi own tbe crown 
of Vonr kingdom." 

EoK Don Quixote ceased, and waited tie anawer of the princess, 
whO) knowmg it to be Don Femando's desire that she should can? on, 
the deception, until Don Quixote's return home, with much diKsitr 
ud grace replied, "Whosoever told jon, valonnis knifiht of the 
sorrowful %ure, that I was changed and altered from what I was, 
spoke not the tnitb: for I am the same t4)-dar that I was yesterday. 
It ¡a tru& indeed, that certain events, fortunate bejond mf hopes, 
have befallen me since then, yet I do not cease to be what T was 
before, and to entertain the same thoughts I have ever indulged of 
availing mrself of tbe toIout of four valiant and invincible am. 
Therefore, dear sir, with four accustomed (goodness, do justice to the 
honour of mr father, and acknowledge his wisdom and prudence, since 
b][ hb skill be found out so easy and certain a way to remedj mv 
misfortunes ¡ for I veril; believe had it not been for jou, sir, I ahonla 
nerer have enjoyed my present happiness; and in this I speak tbe 
eiaot truth, as most of these gentlemen, I am sure, will testify. Let 
SI then proceed on oar jonmey to-morrow (for to-day it is too late) ; 
Md to heaven and your prowess I trust for a successful issue." 

ThoB spoke the discreet Dorothea: whereupon Don Quizots 
turning to Sancho, said to him, "1 tell thee, Sancho, thou art tbe 
greatest rascal in Spain ; say, vagabond ! didst thoo not tell me just 
now that this princess was tnuisfDrmed into a damsel called Dorothea : 
with other absnrdities, which were enough to confound me F I vow 
(and here he looked up to heaven, and snashed his teeth) "I have a 
pvt inoliniüion to nuüce soch an example of thee, as shall put sense 
mto the brains of all tbe lying squires of future times!" "Pray, sir, 
be pacified," answered Sancho; for I may have been mistaken as to 
the change of my lady the princess Micomicona ; hut as to the gianf a 
head, or at least the piercing of the skins. and the blood being red 
wine, I an not deceived, as God liveth ; tor there are the skins at 
jonr worship's bed's-head, cot and slashed, and the red wine has 
made a pond of the room : aul you will find I speak true when our 
host demands damages. As for the rest, I rejoice in my heart that 
my Udy-qneen is as she was; for I have my share in if, like every 
neighboors child." "I tell thee, Sancho," sud Don Qniiote, "thon 
ait an ass. Ezcose me, thafs enouzh." "It is enough," said Don 
femando^ "and let no more be said on the aubiect: and since the 
princess oath declued that we are to set forward in tbe rooming, it 
being too late to-day, let us pass this night in agreeable oonversn.tion ; 
and to-moiTOW we will all accompany Signer Don Quixote, for «e 
desire to be eye-witnesses of the valoróos and unheard-of deeds which 
he is to perform in the accomplishment of this ffreat enterprise." " It 
is my pirt to serve and attend yoii," answered Don Quixote; "and 
unen am I indebted to yon for jour good opinion ; which it shall be 
By mdeavour not to disappoint, eren at the expense of my life, oi 
CTen moK^ if more were posible. 

Ifanf w«e the ramplimenfa^ and polite offers of semoe passing 

900 wnr qmxou. 

between Bon Quixote and Don Fernando, when tbgr wtat intempted 
hs the airival of two othet persons at tne inn. Toe one wm a mas, 

«hobf hia varb seemed to be a Christian lateWconte frcm amocR the 
Moon ; forhe had on a blue doth coat, with short skirts, half beeves, 
and no collar. Hia breeches also were of blue cloth, and his cap of 
the same colour. He had on a pair of dat«K!oloDred buskins, and a 
lloorish scimitar hung in a shoulder-belt across his breast. He waa 
accompanied hf a female in a Moorish dress, mounted on an ass, her 
face reiied, a brocade turban on her head, and covered with a mantle 
from her ahouldera to her feet. The man was of a robust and 
agreeable figure, rather abore fort; years of a^ of a dark complexion, 
with laive mustáchios, and a well-set beard - m short, his deportment, 
had be been wdl-dreased, would have marked him for a geotleman. 
. Upon his entrance he asked for a room, and seemed disconcerted on 
hearing that there was not one unoocnpied; neverthelesa, he assisted 
his female companion, who was eridentl; a Moor, to sJi/Hit. Tilt 
other ladies, as well as the hindlady, her danehter, and maid, all sur- 
lounded the stranger, attracted, bi the novelty of her appearance; 
and Dorothea, who was always obli^png and conaidende, perceirin^ 
thcf were diráppointcd at not haring an apartment, accosted her, 
saying, " Do not be distressed, my dear madam, at an inconrenience 
Which mnst be expected in places of this kind; but if you will pleaso 
to share with ui (pointing lo Lucinda) such accommodation as wo 
have, you may perhaps hare found worse in the conree of toot 

i'ourney." The veiled lady returned her no answer, but, rising mm 
ler seat, and laving her bands across hrr breast, bowed her head and 
body in token that she thanked her. Sy her silence they conjectured 
that sbe could not speak their langu^e, and were confirmed in their 
opinion of her being a Moor. 
Her o "- -'-- "- ' 

the Spanish lasuaage, and is therefore i " mverse with you." 

"We have only been requesting herto irith herccmipany, 

and share our accommoaatiüns," said ] and we will sliov 

her all the attention due to strangers, w especially those of 

our own sex." "My dear matUm," 1 "I return yon a 

thousand thanks both for this lady and I am fully sensible 

of the extent of the favour you offer n iw me to ask yon, 

signer, whether the lady is a Christian ?" " By birth she 

is a Moor," replied the stranger; "bu she is a Christian, 

having an ardent wish to become one.' not yet baptised. 

then?" innuired Lucinda^ "Therchas ^^. _-jn an opportunity, 

answered tne stranger, "mnce sbe left Algiers, her native country; 
and she has not hitherto been in such imminent danger of death as to 
make it necessary to have bet baptised before she be instructed in all 
the ceremonies enjoined by our Church ; but, if it please Heaven, sbe 
will be soon baptised in a manner beooming her rank, which is beyond 
what either her appearance or miin - indicate." 

These strangers excited the curiosity of the whole party, who 
refrained, however, from importuning thetu with questions ; conceiving 
they would be more inclined to iSie repose than to satisfy them. 
Dorothea now took the lady's bond, and, leading her to a seat, placed 
herself by her, and then requested hei to nuveil; upon wiuut she 


p.n an inqnirtncr locik at ber coropanioD ; and he Itaviní interpreUd 
«luit bad been said b> her in Arabic, she ^ ' ' < j-- 


J — /ed !ipr"Teil, and dia- 

ooveied a &ce so exgoiaitelr beautiful that Dorothea thought she 
exceeded LocinthL wlio on her part, thought her handsomer than 
Dorothea; while tiiar adnirers all secaied to confess that if either of 
themcooldhavsaiiTaliiibeantTÍt was in this Moorish kdy; antLaa 
it is the privilege of beautj to conciliAte and attraot good will, the; 
we bU eager to show ber attention. Don Fernando inqnired her 
name of her companion ; " Lek Zoraida," he replied ¡ when she int^- 
poaed in a aweet, earnest maaner— " No, not Zoraida ; Maria, Maria " 
— giTiog- them to w^erstand that her name was Mana, not Zoraida. 
Tbeae words were prononnced in so touching a voice that they were 
all affected, especiailjr the ladies, who were naturally tender-hearted. 
IiUcioda embraced her most affectionately, saving, " Tea, fes ; Maria, 
Uaria;" who answered, "Yea, Maria; Zoraida macange" — meaning 
not Zoraida. 

It beiiig now night, sapper was served up (in providiosr which the 
landlord had, by Don t'emacdo's order, exerted himself to the utmost). 
33ter seated themselves at a long table, like those in halls; for there 
was no other, either round or siinare, in the house. They uitisted on 
Don Quixote's taking the head of Ine table, though he would have 
dedined it ; the princess Micomicúna he placed next to liim, being 
her chainpioD; Lucbda and Zoraida seated tbemselvea besiae her; 
oppfaite them sat Don Fernando and Cardenio ; the curate and barber 
sat next to the hidies, end the rest of the gentlemen opposite to them ; 
and thus tbey banqueted mnch to their satisfaction. Don Quixote 
added to their amusement, for being moved by the same spirit which 
had inspired him with eloquence at the goath¿^'s supper, instead of 
eating he now harangued as follows ;— 

" It must cerfaiulv be confessed that great and wonderful are the 
occurrenoes which Wal those who profess the order of knight- 
errantry. What man existing, who should now enter at this castle- 
gate, and see us thus seated, could imagine ns to be the persons we really 
are 1 Who should say that this lady here seated by my side ia that 
great queen we all know her to be, and I that ' knight of the sorrowful 
figure, BO blazoned abroad by the mouth of fame I There no longer 
remains a doubt that this art and profession exceeds all that bave 
ever been followed by man ; and that it is the more hououtable 
inasmuch as it is exposed to more danger. Away with those who 
tay that letters have the advantage over arms ! Whoever they may 
be, 1 will maintaio that they know not what they my ; for the reason 
thov usually give, and upon which they usually lay the greatest stress, 
is that the labours of the braiu exceed those of the bodv, and that 
arms is simply a corporeal exercise; as if it were the business of 
porten atone, for which mere strength is required, or as if the pro- 
fession of arms did not call for tliat fortitude which depends on a 
Tigoroos nnderstandmg, or asif the mental powers of the warrior who 
Ikas an army or the defence of a besieged city oommitted to bis charge, 
are not called into exertion as well as those of his body ! Let it ne 
shown bow, by mere corporeal strength, he can penetrate the designs 
of the enemy, form stratagems, overcome difficulties, and avert 
threateneddangers!— no, these are all the efforts of the understanding, 
in which the body has no sbare. Since, then, arms exercise the mind 
as veil a* letters, let ns now see whose mind is most exert«d ¡ the 
,, .A.OOgIC 

■cholar's or tlie Boldier's. This may be detennined bf the nltinuta 
object of each ; for that pursuit desnres tlie most eat«em which has 
the noblest aim in Tiev, Now the end and design of letters — I speal 
not of theolog7, the aim of which is to ruide and derate the soul of 
maa to hear en, for with that none can be compared ; but I speak rf 
hnmon learning, whose end, I stt;, is to regulate distributive justice, 
and give to erery man his due; to know good laws, and canse them 
to be strictly observed ; an object moat certainly generous and exalted, 
and worthy of high commendation, bat not equal to that which is 
annexed to the profession of aims, whose end and porpoae is peace 
— the greatest bleasing man can enjoy in this life ; for the ¿ret glad 
tidings tíie world Teceived was what the angels broufdit on that night 
which was onr day, when they sang in the clouds, ' Glory to God on 
high, and on earth peace and good-will towards men!' andthe_Baluta> 
tion which tbe Master of earth and of heaven taught His disciples 

true nappiness. To obtain 

, ar— by war and arms I mean 

Peace, then, being the object of war, it must be 
oranted ttiat in its ultimate aim it is superior to tbe pursnit of letter*. 
We will now compate tbe oorporcal lobonrs of the soldier and tho 

D^ Quixote thns puraued his disconne m rationally, that bis 
auditors could searcely think bim insane ; on tbe contrary, most of 
them being gentlemen, to whom tbe ei^ercisB of arma pro^rly apper- 
tains, tbey nstened to him with particular pleasure wlule be thus 

oontmucd : " AJnong tbe hardships Oí the scholar we may, in tbe first 
t all an > ■ - ■ 

be said of his miaery, for he who ia poor ¡a ^titute of every good 
thing; be endures nuserv in all abapea, in banger and in cold, somC' 
times in nakednesa, and sometimes in a oombination of alL StiD, 
however, he gets something to eat, either from the rich man's leav- 
ings, or the sops of the convent — that last miserable resource of tbe 
poor scholar; nor are they without some neighbour's fire-side or 
ehimnev-oomer to keep them at least from extreme cold ; and at 
night tney can generall;y sleep under cover. I will not enlarge npon 
other trifling inconvemences to which they are exposed; such as 
soarmty of hnen, want of shoes, tbresd-baré costa, and the aarfeits 
they ill liable to when good fortuno sets a plentiful table in their 
way. This ia the hard and rugged path they tread, sometimes falling, 
then rising and falling again, till uiey reach the emineooe tbey have 
had in view; and after passing these Sc} lias and Charybdises,ve have 
•een them from a chair command and govern the world, their hanger 
converted into satiety, their pinching cold into refreshing coolness, 
their nakedness into embroidery, and their slumbers on a mat to 
tepose on hoUand and damask— a reward justly merited by (heir 
virtne. But their haid^ps fall ¡at ahoit of those of the warrior, •■ 
I shall soon oouvinoe yon.'' 

UignieUb, Google 


Boh Quixote, nfter a eliort pan», continued hia disconise thm x 
" Since in speakuuc of the scholar, we iK^titn willi bis poyert; and Ha 
several branches, let ns see whether the soldier be rictier. We shaU 
And that povertT itself is not more poor: for he depends on h^ 
wretched pajr, wnich comes late, and sometimes never-, ornpon w]iat 

)te can pilFase, at tJie imminent risk of his life and con-' "--'■ 

often is his nuednesa that his slashed bnff-doublet si 

uD Hiuuoiiu» 11 13 1113 u»n fault, foT be may mcuuic uui. u miuij 
feet of earth as he pleases, and roll himself thereon at pleasure with- 
out fear of mmpling the sheets. Suppose the moment arrived of 
taking his degree— I mean, soppose the day of battle come ; hia 
doctoral cap may then be of lint, to cover some ^n-shot wound, 
which pcrhapa has gone through his temples, cm deprived him of an 
arm or a leg. And even suppose that heaven in ¡ts mercy should pre- 
serve him alive and unhurt, he will probably remain as poor as ever; 
ftir he mast be enga^d and Tiotorious in many battles before he can 
expect high promotion: and such good fortune happens only by a 
miracle : for you will allow, gentlemen, that few are the nomber of 
those Üiat have reaped the reward of their services, compared wMi 
those who have jjcnshcd in war. The dead are conntless ; whereas 
those who survive to be rewwded may be numbered with thne 
figures. Not so with scholari, who by their salaries (I will not say 
their pecqaisites), are generally handsomelv provided for. Thus the 
labours of the soldier are greater, althouirh bis reward is less. It mar 
be said in ansver to this, timt it is easier to reward two thoasaud 
Scholars than thirty thousand soldiers : for scholars are rewarded by 
employments which must of course be given to men of their pro- 
fession; whereas the soldier can only be rewarded by the property of 
tiie master whom he serves ; and this defence serves to stiengtliea 
my argument. 

" £ut, waiving this point, let ns consider the oomparative claims to 
inc-eminence ; for the partizana of each can bring powerful arguments 
m support of their own cause. It is said in favour of tetters that 
without them arms conld not subsist ; for war most have its laws, and 
laws come within the province of the learned. But it may be alleged 
in reply, that arms are necessary to the maintenance of law ■ by arms 
tlte paolic roads are protected, oitiea sniarded, states defended, king- 
tknns preserved, and the seas deared of corsairs and pirates. In short, 
«itboñt anoa there would ba no itSeitj tat cities, commonwealths, or 
kingdoms. Beaidee, it is just to otinate «poranit in proportion to 

1RH SON gnixoTi. 

the cost of its attainment. Now it is true tbat eminence in leamng 
b purchased by time, watching, banger, uakednesa, vertigo, indiges- 
tion, and man/ other incoDTenienccs already mentioned : but a man 
who rises mduallv to lie a good soldier endures all these, and far 
more. What is the huniter and pOTertj- which menace the man of 
letters compared lo the situationof the soldier, who, besieged ¡a some 
fortress, and placed as sentinel in some ravelin or cavalier, perceÍTes 
that the enemy is mining towards the place nheie he stands, and yet 
must on no account stir ^m his post or shun the ¡mmincnt danger 
tbat tbreatens him ? All that he can do in such a case is to give 
notice to hiB officer of what passes, that he may endeavour to oounter- 
sctit; in the meantime be must stand his ground, in momentary 
expectation of being mounted to Üia clouds withont wings, and then 
dashed headlong to the eartli. And if this be thouglit but a trifling 
danger, let va see whether it be equalled or exceedi^d by the en- 
counter of two galleys, prow to jifow, in the midst of the white sea, 
kicked and nappled together, so that there is no more room left for 
the soldier than the two-foot plank at the break-head: and though he 
sees OS many threatening ministers of death before uim as there are 

E'eces of artillery pointed at him from the opposite side, not the 
ngth of a lance from his body ; thoufth be knows that the first slip 
of his foot sends him to the bottom of ttic sea: yet, witii an undauutea 
heart, inspired by honour, he exposes himself as a mark to all theic 
Are, and endeavours by that narrow pass to force his way into tha 
enemy's vessel ! And, what is most worthy of admiration, no soonet 
is one Mleii, never to rise again in this world, than anotlier takes his 
place ; and if he also fall into the sea, which lies in wait to devour 
Mm, another and another succeeds without intermisión ! In all the 
extremities of war there is do example of courage and intrepidity lo 
exceed this. Happy those ages which knew not the dreadful fury of 
artillery ¡—those instruments of hell (where, 1 verily believe, the 
inTcntor is now receiving the reward of his diabolical ingenuity) ; hj 
means of which the cowardly and the base can deprive the braven 
soldier of life. Wliile a gallant soirit animated witn heroic ardour is 
pressing to glory, comes a chance oall, sent by one who perhaps fied in 
alarm at the flash of his own accursed weapon, and in on instant cuts 
short the hfe of him who deserved to Eve for axes! M heni consider 
this, I could almost repent having undertaken this profession of 
knight-errantrv in so detestable an age ; for tliough no danger can 
daunt me, still it gives me some concern to think that powder and 
lead may suddenly oat short my career of glorv. But Heaven's will 
be done! I have this satisfaction, that I sliall acquire the grtalei 
fame if I succeed, inasmuch as llie perils by which 1 am beset we 
trreater than those to which the knights-errant of past ages wen 

Don Quixote made this long harangue while the rest were eating; 
forsetltng to raise a morsel to nis mouth, though Sancho Panza ever 
ftnd anon reminded him of his supper, telling him he would have tima 
enough afterwards to talk as much as be pleased. His other auditors 
were concerned that a man who seemed to possess so good an under- 
standing should, on a particular point, be so egregiously in want of it. 
The priest told him tnere was ^reat reason in all that he had said in 
bvDur of arms, and although hiuuelf a scholar and a giaduatt^ lie 
acquiesced in ms opinion. 


tHB CUTtVs'S ADYummzs. 206 

He ODUatioii being orer, the doth waa removed: and while the 
heatess snd her damsels vere preparing the chamber which Don 
Quiiote had occupied for the ladies, l>on femando reqnested the 
stranger to gratHj them b; relatmg his adventures : since, from the 
hdy who accompanied him, he waa certain thev mnst be both interest- 
ing- and extraordinary. The stranger said that he would willingly 
comply with their request, though he was afraid his history would 
not aSonl tbem much amusement. The priest and rest of the partr 
thanked him: and, seeing them all prepared to listen to him with 
kttEntion, he began his oüntiTe in a modest and agreeable nuumer, 
as ibllowB ;— 

Whtrttn At cajAht niata kii lift and aámlurfi. 

"Ik a »ilk!fB among the mmmtain» of Leon my funilj had its 
origin; and, although more faronred by natnre than fortune, in that 
llumble region my father was considered wealthy j and might really 
have been so. had he known the art of economising ratner than 
squandering his estate. This disposition to profusion proceeded from 
his having been a soldier in his younger dajs, for the army is a school 
in which llie miser bi^omes generous, and the generous prodigal : 
miserlj soldiers are, like monsters, but Terr rarely seen. Liberality 
nay be carried too far in those who bave children to inherit their name 
and rank ; and this wo» my father's failing. He had three sons, and 
being himself aware of this propensity to extraTagnTice, and of his ina- 
bility lo restrain it, he determined to dispose of nia property, and by 
tiiat means efi'ectnálly deprive himself of the power oi laTishmgit : he 
therefore called us one day together, and thus addressed us : — 

" 'My sons, I need not say I love you, for you are my children; and 
yet you may well donbt my love, since I have not refrained from diasi- 
patmz your inheritance. But to prove to you that I am not an nnna- 
tunl father, 1 have finely resol veil upon the execution of apian which 
is the result of mature deliberation. You are now of age to establish 
yourselves in the world, or at least to choose some employment from 
which you may hereafter reap honour and profit. 1 intend to divide 
my property into four parts, three of which you shall equally share, 
and the fourth I will reserve to subsist upon for the remaining data 
it may please Heaven to allot me : it is mv wish, however, that eacli, 
when in possession of his share^ ahould follow the path that I shall 
direct. We have a proverb in Spain, in my opinion a very true one, 
as most ptoverba are, being maxims drawn from experience : it is this; 
" The church, the sea, or the court ; " meaning that whoever would 
prosper should either get into the church, engavie in commerce, or 
serve the king in his coiut : for it is also said, that " the king's morsel 
is better than the brd's bounty." It would, therefore, give me great 
ntisfaction if one of yon would follow letters, another merehandise, 
and the third serve the king in the annr; tor it is ditGcnlt to get 
lission sto his hoasehold; eai though a military career is not 
. A.OOgIC 


¿iTonnhle to the acqnireinent of wealth, it Mtdom Mi to «onfer 

honour. Within eight days I will nve ;ou each four share in moner; 
and now tell me whether yoa are oispóaed to follow toy advice.' A» 
Iwu the eldest, he desirea me to answer Gnt. Upon which I entreated 
him not to part with his estate^ but to spend aa much as he pleased, 
for that we were f aimg enough to labour for oaiselvea ¡ ana 1 eon- 
dudul by aBSuriná him tlia,t I would do as he desired, and enter the 
ann;, to serve God and my kins. My aeoand brother complied likd- 
wise, and chose to go to the Indies, turning his portion into raerchau- 

the church, andfor that purpose finish his studies at Si 

"Haling determined upon our several professions, my father em* 
braced us, and insisted upon our taking each hia share of the estate, 
which BO nncie of ours purchased, that it might not be alienated from 
tíie family. The portion of eacl^ I remember, amoonted to three 
thousand ducats. We all took our leave of our good &ther oa tin 
same da;; and, thinking it inhuman to leave him iüihis advairaedage 
with so reduced an income, I prevailed on him to take back two Üton- 
sand ducats &om my share ; the reniainder being sufficient to equip 
me with what was necesaarr for a soldier. My two brothers followed 
my eiample, and returned him each a thoosúid ducats, so that my 
&ther now bad four thousand in ready money, and the value w 
three thousand more, which was his share of the land- In short, 
we separated, not without much grief on all aides, and mutual pro- 
mise* of correspondence 1 one of my brothers taking the road to 
Salaoutnoa, the other to Seville, and Ito Alicant. It is now two-and- 
twenty yean since I left my father, and in all that time 1 have beard 
nothing either of him or of my bmtheis, although I have sent than 
BuuT letters. But I shall now biieBy relal« to you what has bebUen 
me auring that period. 

"On my arrival at Alíoant, finding a vessel bound to Genoa with a 
oa^o of wool, I embarked, and hfud a good paasure to that dty. 
Thence I proceeded to Milan, where I furmsbed myself with arms and 
military ñuery, intending at that time to enter the service of Piedmont; 
but hearing, on my journey to Alexandria de la Faglta, that the duke 
of Alva was entering f landers with an army, I changed my mlntL and 
joined the duke, whom I continued to serve in all hia battles, and wm 
present at the death of the Counts U'EgmontaDdUum. I procured an 
ensign's commission in the company of the celebrated captain of 
GuBOal^ara, named Diego de Urbma. Soon after my arrival in Flan- 
den, news came of the league concluded between Pope Pius V., <tf 
happy memory, and Spain, against the common enemy the Turk ; who 
aboui the same time had talün the island of Cvpms ñnm the Vene- 
tians, a serious loss to that republic. Don Jonu of Austria, natural 
brolher of our good King PhiUp, was appointed generalissimo of thia 
alliance, and such great preparations for war were everywhere talked 
fit, that I conceived an ardent desire to be present in the expected 
engagement ; therefore, in spite of the assurances I had received of 
being promoted, I relinquished alL and resolved to go into Italy ; and 
fortunately for my design. Don John passed through Genoa, on hia 
w^toNaples, to job the Venetian fleet. In the glorious action which 
followed I was engaged ; and, more from goo^iap than merit, waa 
already advanced to the honourable i>ost of captain. But on that d^, 
•o hqipy fox Christendom, bf showing th^ faUao7 of the prevailing 



t^ñnidii, flut Ibe Turks were inrmoible at tea— rai that da;,aoI»iiiii> 
iuOag to Ottoman pride, I iloDe Temamed tmrortnnate ; for inrelr 
moreliapOT vere the ChnstiBns «ho died cm that occaiion tliau the 
«iTTiTorel Instead of Teoeiving s dbtsI crown for my eemcei, I 
found myself ttie followmg night loaded with chaina. 

" My miafortone was oMsaioned in thii way. üchalL Idng of 
Algiers, a bold and sacceasful conair, having boüded and Ukeo the 
ciqit^-galley of Malta, in which three kni^ts only were left alire, 
«oá tJKwe desperately wounded, the oantain-galley of John Andrea 
lyOtÍA came up to her relief, on board oí «rhieh I was with mv com- 
pany : and acting as m; duty enjoined apon this ocoason, I leaped 
uto we enemy's gidley, expecting to be followed by my men; but the 
two reaaels aepatatrng, I waa left alone among enemies loo munerona 
fw me to reaist, and carried off prisoner, after reoeÍTÚig many woundi. 
Thw D<diaU eeoaped, and I remained his captive— the only monmer 
madsy<^joy,— aaUnat the moment when so many were aet free I— 
for fifteen thousand Christiaju from the Torkid galleys were on that 
á»j restored to liberty. I was carried to Constantinople, where the 
Qñnd 8ignor Selim appointed my master general of t^e sea for his 
barery, and for having brought off the flag of the order of Malta. 

"'Hie following year, which woe sereu^-two, I was at Havarino, 
lowing in tbe captain-gáiley of the Tirtt Lantiortu ; and there I ob- 
■erved Uie opporlnnily that wn then lost of taking the whole Turkish 
fleet in p(Si: for all the LeraotiiKS and Janiieries on board took it for 

Cled that they should be attacked in the very harbour, and had 
' bagg^ aodpassunaqnai in readiness for making thrar escape 
w titan, without intending to resist — sudi was the terror which our 
an? had bupired. But it was iH-dered otherwise ¡ not through any 
fiUH in onr general but for the sins of Christendom, and because Ooa 
ordains that there should always be some scourge to (diastise ns. In 
aliort, UchaU got into Modon, an island near Navanno ; and putting 
his men on shore, he fortiOed the entrance of the port, and remained 
qmet nntil the seaaon forced Don John to return home. In this cam- 
pa^ the galley called the Pñit, whose caotaiu was a son of the 
nmoaa eoraur Barbaroesa, was taken bv theSM^ieoif^ of Naples, com- 
nmded by that thanderbolt of war the fortúnate and nmncibie captain 
IÍDnAlTarsdeBasaii,marquiaof8antaCmz. I cannot forbear relatiuK 
what happened at the taking of this vessel liie son of Barbarossa 
was w cruel, and treated his slaves so ill, that as soon as the rowers 
■aw that the SAe-ieo^ma ready to board them, they all at once let 
fUl their oars, and aeiang their captain, who stood near the poop, they 
teased him aloi^ from huik to bank, and from the poop to the prow. 

C'ng him such blows, that befine his body had passed tbe mainmast 
smd was gone to hades ; so great was the hatred his cruelty had 

We reinnied to Constantinople, where the year following we 
received intelligenoe that Bon John had taken the city of Tunis from 
&e Turks, and put Mnley Uamet in possession of it ; tiioa cutting off 
file hopes of Mulev Hamida, who was one of the bravest but most 
emel of Moors. The Qrand Turk felt this loss very sensibly; and 
with that sagacity which is inherent in the Ottoman family, be made 
peace with the Venetians (to whom it was very acceptable) ; and the 
next reAr he attacked the fortress of Goleta, as well as the fort which 
]>aii John had kit half finished new Tunis. During all these tram- 

308 sos QDUOTB. 

actirau I was still at tbe oar, «ithoot 0117 hcFpe of Tedemption ; lieiBf 

determined not to let my hiher know of my OMtivity. The GoleU 
and the fort vere both loat, having been attacked b; the Turki vith 
an army of sevent>'-five thousand men, besides above four bnndred 
thousand Moors and Arabs ; which vast multitude was fuiutshed with 
inunense quantities of ammunition and warlike stores ; blether with 
M> many pioneera, that each man bringing only a handful of earth might 
have covered both the Goleta and the furt. Although the Goleta wa» 
until then supposed to be impregnable, no blame attached to the de- 
fenders ; for it was found that, water being no longer near Uie stufaM 
as foimerly, the besicgera were enabled to raise mounds of sand that 
commandea the fortifications : and thus attacking them by a oaTalier, 
itwaaimpoBsible to make any defence. It hasbeenignorantlyaBBert«a 
that our troops ought not to have shut themselves up in the Goleta, 
but have met the enemy at the pUce of disembarkment — as if »o 
small a number, being scarcely seven thousand men, oould have at 
once defended the works and token the field against such an orer- 
whelming force ! But many were of opinion, and myself among the 
rest, that the destruction of that place was a j)rovidential circum- 
stance for Spain ; for it was the forge of iniquity, the sponge, the 
devourer of countless sums, idiy eipended for no other reason than 
because it wm a conipiest of the ¡nvincible Charles the Fifth : as if 
his immortal fame depended npon the nteservation ot those ramparts ! 
The fort was also so obstinately defended, that above five^and-twenty 
thousand of the enemy were destroyed in twenty -two general assaults ; 
and of three hundred that were left alive, not one was taken nn- 
wounded: an evident proof of their unconnnerable spirit. A little 
fort, also in the middle of the lake, comraandeabyüonJohnZanoguera. 
of Valencia, yielded upon terms. Don Pedro Portocsrrero, ^neral 
of Goleta, was made prisoner, and died on his way to Constantinople, 
broken-hearted for the loss of the fortress nhieh he had so bravely 
defended. They also took the commander of the fort, Gabrio Cer- 
bellon, a Milanese gnitleman, a great engineer, end a brave soldier. 
Several persons of distinction lost their bves in these two garrisons : 
among whom was Pagan U'Oria, knight of Malta, a gentleman well 
known for his eialtediiberaJity to his brother, the famous John Andrea 
D'Oria; and his fate was the more lamented, having been put to death 
by some African Arabs, who, upon seeing that the fort was lost. 
Offered to convey him disguised as a Moor to Tabarca, a small haven, 
or settlement, which the Genoese have on that coast for the coral- 
fishing. These Arabs cut off his head, and carried it to the general of 
the Turkish fleet, who made good our Castilian proverb, that ' though 
we love the treason, we hate the traitor ; ' for the general ordered 
those who delivered him the present to be instantly lianged, because 
they had not brought him ahve. Among the CiiHstiaus taken in the 
fort was an ensign, whose name was Don Pedro D'Aguilar, an Anda- 
lusian. who was a good soldier, as well as a poet. I mention this 
beoanse it was our fate to be slaves to the same master : we served in 
the same galley, and worked at the same oar. He composed two 
sonnets, by Way of epitaph,— one upon Goletv and the other upon the 
Tort which 1 will endeavour to repeat ; for 1 think they wüf please 

]>0H FKDKO d'a^uilas's boxnbts. 209 

Uiesoimete, said, "I beseech yon, sir, before yon proceed, teU me 
whkt became of that Don Pedro D'Asuilar." All I know concern- 
ing him," answered the captive, "is, triat after he bad been two years 
at Constantinople he escaped, disguiaed as aa Arnaut,*iFÍtb a Greek; 
and I beiteTe he succeeded in recovering his liberty, but am not cer- 
tain- forthoughisaw tbeGrceit about ajear after mCnnstantinople, 
Thad not an opportunity of asking him the success of their journey.'' 
" Tiiat Don Pedro," said the gentleman, " is my brother ; he returned 
to Spain, and is now married and settled in bis native city ' he has 
three children, and is blessed wltb health and aMuence." "Thanks 
be to Heaven ! " exclaimed the captive ; " for what transport in hto 
can eqnal that wbicb a man feels on the restoration of his liberty ! " 
" I well remember those sonnets whicb you mention," added the gen- 
tleman, " Then, pray, sir, repeat them, said the captive ; " for yon 
will do it better than I can. Tbe gentleman willingly complied : 
that upon the Goleta was as follows :-- 


O hapi» souls, b; death at length set free 
Fi om [he dark priaoa of mortalitj. 
By glorious doeda, vhoBo inemor}' never dies— 
Frnm eiu-th's dim spot exalted t» the akiaa t 
Wliat fiiry stood in ovary oye confcaa^d ! 
Whnt gonBTDua ardour &-'d each miuiiy broast. 
Whilst eliHighter'd heaps diítain'dthessndy shorty 
And the ting'd ocsnn bluah'd with hostile goro 1 
O'erpowar'd by nirnibers, gioriooslj' ye foil : 
Death only ooold such mstchleas courage quell ; 
WbUsl dying thug ye triumph o'er your tote — 
It* blue the voild, ila glocy heaveo, bettovs 1 


IS spread around, 
nsan^o'd ground. 
Three thousand souls of wuriors. deajl m fight. 
To b«lt«r r^ons took their happy flight. 
Iiong with uncoar]uer'd souls thoy bravely stood, 
Aiuffégu-leaB shed Ibtar unavailing blood : 
Till, to superior force oompoU'd to yield. 
Their hvee they quitted in the nell-fbnght field. 
This fatal »i) ^as eier been the tomb 
Of slaughter'd heroes, buried io itaffotub: 
Yet bravor bodies did it ne'er sustain. 
Nor send more glorious souls Üie skiea to gain. 

* A naUve of Albania. 

UignieUb, Google 

In V&ÚA ú cOJttiniitd Uu hiiíoTJ of dU copítM. 

AiTza tlie campBn}> bad ezpreesed their aporobatiou of tlte somteta, 
tile captive pursued his stor;. " When the Curka liad got pouessm 
of Golela, tlie; eave orders for its demoUtioa : and to les£>ea Ibeff 
labour, they undenuiued it in three diSereot pucea : the new vorka, 
erected b; the engineer Fratin, CAme easily dowai but the old walla, 
though apparently the weakest part, they could not rase. The fle«t 
retomed in triumph to CuuEtantinople, aud within a few tiionths, 
Uchali, whose slave I had become, died ; he was called Uchali Fartaz, 
or the leproQS renegado, beung so uicknained according to the custom 
of the Turks, wbo have but lour family surnames, and these descend 
from the Ottoman race : the rest of the t>eople are named eiUier from 
tbeir incidental blemishes, or peculiarities of body or mind. This 
leper had been fourteen years a slave to the ETand sipioc: and when 
he vas about four-and-thirty years of age, being irritated by a blow 
he received from a Turk while he was al tht; oar, he rcnoonced bis 
religion that he might have it in his power to be revenged on biui. 
He rose by his bravery alone, and not by the base intrigues of oourl ; 
end became king of Algiers, wid afterwards general of the sea, which 
is the third command m the empire. He was a mitíve of Calabria, a 
man of good morals, and ireated his slaves with humanity. He had 
three thousand of them, and in hia will he left one-half of them among 
his renegadoes, the other to the grand signor, who is alw^s joint- 
heir with the heirs of alt his subjects. 1 fell to the lot of a Venetiaii, 
who had been oabin-boy in a vessel taken by Uchali, with whom tie 
became a great favourite. His name was Hassan Asa. and one of the 
most cruelof that apostate class : he was afterwanb king of Algiers, 
and vrilh him I left Constantinople, pleased at the idea of being nearer 
to Spain— not that I intended to mfonn my family of my wretched 
situation, but I hoped to Cnd another place more favomable to mf 
schemes of escape, which hitherto I had attempted in vain. In 
AJgiers I purpoGeu to renew my efforts ; for noi withstanding ni7 
niunerous dbappointments, the hope of recovering my liberty never 
abandoned me ; no sooner did one expedient tail Uiao 1 grasped at 
another, which still preserved my hopes alive. 

" By these means 1 supported existence, shut up in a prison which 
the Turks call a bath • »Tiere they confine iheir Christian cautives— 
not only those which belong to the king, bul the captives of jirivale 
individuals. lu this place there is also another ckss, who serve the 
city in its pubhc work^, and in other offices : they are called the slaves 
of the Almazeii ; and as they belong to the public, having no particuhir 
master, they find it very difficult to regam their liberty; for even 

• The Whs of the Cbriatian CBptives are large cniirtvanJs, the interiors 
of wh,eh are «iirrumiclod by mnafl chambcra. Witliin these thecn|.tiv« 
wbo nre not tinder strict conSnement Of e aiiclo«ed at night ; the otheis aro 
coDfiuod in dungeon*. 


vben the; migbi procoie mone^, there &re none witli wbom tíxf can 
neeotiate Uieir ransom. The lung's siavea do not work mth Q¡e rest, 
umess their ransom is slow in coming, in which esse thej are pat 
upon toilsome kboor, to hasten ita arrivaL Aa they knew m; rank 
to be that of a capUin, in spite of m; aasunnces that I had neither 
interest nor monej, they would place me among those who expected 
ta be redeemed i and the cbainlwcore was rather aa a sigs of rsnsom 
than to secure m; person. 

"Thus I passed years of captivity, with other fcentlemen of oon- 
datioa from whom ransom was eipeoted. We suffered much both 
from hunger aod nakedness ; bnt these were less painful to endue 
than the sight of those unparaUeled and eicessive craelties whkh onr 
tyrant inflicted upon his Christian slaTes : not a day passed on wfaidii 
one of these uiuurtunato men was not either hanged, impaled, or 
mutilated : and often without the least prorocation. Even the Tuib 
BcknowletiKcd that he acted thus merely for the gratiflcatloo of his 
murderOQs and inhuman disposition. 

" One Spanish soldier only, whose name was something de Saaved»-* 
■" " d to be in his good graces ; and although his enterprises to 
L escape were such as will low be rememiiered there, he nerw 
pBTe him a hlow, nor ordered one to fie given him, nor even rebuked 
Kim : jet, for the least of many things he did, we all feared he wonld 
be impaled alive : so indeed he feared himself, more than once. Did 
the time allow, I conld tell yon of some thinigs done by tins soldicT 
which would surpriserou more than my own narrative. 

" But to return. The court-yard of our place of confinement was 
overlooked by the windows of a house belonging to a Moor of distinc- 
tion, which, as is nsnol there, were rather peep-holes than windows, 
and even these had thick and close lattices. It happened that <a)e 
day, as I was uj>on a terrace belonging to our prison with three of my 
companions, trying by way of pastime who could leap farthest witn 
his ciiains, I acciuenlally looked up, and observed a cane held ont 
from one of the windows above ns ; a liandierchief was fastened to 
the end of it, which waving, seemed to invite us to take hold of it. 
One of my comrades seeing it, placed himself under the cmie, expect- 
ing it would be dropped ; but as he approached, the cane was draws 
back again. Upon his retiring, the cane was igain lowered as before. 
Another of ourparty then went towards it, but was rejected m the 
seme manner. The third then tried it. hut without anj better sucoese. 
Upon which I determbied to try my fortune ; and I had no sooner 
placed myself nndei the cane, than it fell at my feet. I immediately 
imtied the handkerchief, and in a knot at one comer found ten eianis 
— a sort of base gold com used by the Moors, each piece worth about 
ten reals of our money, You will conceive that I f^t no less pleasure 
than surprise at this singular eircnmstance, especially as it was so 
obvious that the favour was intended exclusively for me. I took my 
nonev, returned to the terrace, looked again to the window, and per. 
peived a very white hand hastily open and close it. Theuce we con- 
jectured that it nmat be some woman residing in that house who had 

* The Saavedra here mentjaned la Higuel de Csrvantw Mmself, who in 
tLñ passage only spooks oipreBly of hinSslf ; the hero oí the captiva'» tnle 
bmag sapUin Visduui, wlio was a SsUon-sunerer vilh him under tho CyisDuy 
oi Asaa Ago. 

SIS soK QnixoTí, 

been thus cliañtaUe ; and to eipress out thanli ve made onr levet- 
encca after the Moorish fashion, iuclining the head, bending the body, 
aod laying the hands cm the breast. 

"Soon after, a small cross made ofcaueirae held out of the window, 
and tlien ¿nvia in again. On this signal we concluded that it must 
be some Christian womao who was a captive m that bouse ; but the 
whiteness of the band, and the bracelet on the wrist, seemed to oppose 
this idea. Then again we imagined it might be a Christian rene^sde^ 
wbom their masters often marrj' ; for thi? value them mure than the 
women of their own nation. But our rcasanii^B and conjectures were 
wide of the truth. From this time we continued to gaze at the 
window with great aniiety, as to our polar star; but fifteen dare 
elapsed without having once seen eitlier the hand or any other signed; 
»nd though in this interval we had aniiously endeavoured to procure 
informaiion as to the inhabitants of that house, we never could learn 
more than that the house belonged to a rich Moor, namc^d Agi-Momto. 
who bad been alcaide of the part of Bata, an offioe among them of 
great authority. At length the cane and handkerchief again appeared, 
witli a still larger knot; and at a time when, as before, all tlie other 
captives were absent except ravself and three companions. We 
repeated our former trial, each of mj three companions going before 
me ; but the cane was not let down until I approached. The knot, I 
found, contained Spanish crowns in gold, and a super written in 
Arabic, which was marked with a large cross. I kissed the cross, 
took the crowns, and return to the terrace, where we all made our 
reverences. Again 1he hand appeared; I made signs tbat I would 
read tiie paper, and the window clos ' 

none of u_ __ 

Sreter. I determined at length to confide in a renegado, a native of 
lurcia, who had professed ¡limself friendly towards me, aud wiioin, 
from an interchange of confidence, I could safely trust : for it is usual 
with these men, when they wish to return to Christendom, to procuro 
certiñcateg from captives of distinction, attesting their character aa 
good Christians. These certiiicEtes are, however, sometimes employed 
tor artful purposes. For instance, if on their piratical excursions they 
happen to be shipwrecked or taken, thej produce their written 
characters, pretending that they had only ioined the pirates to effect 
their escape into a Christian country, and by this means live unmo- 
lested until they have an opportunity of returning to Barbary to 
resume their former course oi^ life. But my friend was not of this 
number. With a ^ood design he had obtained certificates, in wliicb 
we bad spoken of him in the highest terms; and, had the Mooi^ found 
these papers upon him, they would certainly have burnt him alive. 
I knew tlial this man was well acquainted with the Arabic language ; 
but before I entrusted to him the whole affair, X desired him to read 
t^e paper, which I pretended U> have found by chance in a hole of 
my cell. He opened it, and stood for some time studj'ing and traus- 
laling it to himself. I asked him if he underatood it. ' Perfectly,' he 
said, ' and if I would provide him with pen and ink, he would give me 
an exact translation. We in.itantiy supplied lum with «hat he 
re<[uired, and he wrote down a literal translation of the Mocrisb 
paper, observing to us that the words Leila Maryem signiiied our 


" 'When I WM a child, my father had a woman slave who instructed 
me in the Cliristian worship, and told me manj' things of Leila 
Marjem. This Christian died, and I know she did not go to the fire, 
but to Alia ; for I saw her twice afterwards, and she bid me go to llie 
ooantrj of the Christians to eee Leila Maryem, who loved me very 
much, I know not how it is, thongh I have seen many Christians 
from this window, none has looked like a gentleman but thyself I am 
Tery beautiful, and ypuns, and have a lireat deoJ of money to carry 
away with me. I'ry if thon canst find means for us to get away, and 
thou shalt be mv husband, if it piease thee ; and if otherwise, I shall 
Mt care, for Leila Maryem wili pnDvidc me a husband. 1 write this 
mrself : he careful who reads if. Trust not any Moor, for tliey are 
»l! treacherous. I am full of tears, and would not have thee trust any- 
body : for if my father hears of it, he will immediately throw me into 
a well, and cover me with stones. I will fasten a thread to the cane ; 
tie thy answer to it, and if thou hast nobody that can write Arabic, 
tell me by siffos — Leila Maryem will enable me to understand them. 
Both she and Alia protect thee ! and this cross too, which I often 
luss ; for so the captive instructed me.' 

" ConceiTe, gentlemen, our emotion at the contents of this paper ! 
Being indeed so manifest^ the renegado clearly perceived that Íl could 
not have been found by accident, but was actually written to one of us; 
and he therefore entreated us, if his conjectures were true, to confide in 
him ; for he would venture his life for our liberty. As he spoke, he 
drew from his bosom a crucifli of brass, and with tears swore by the 
Deity that imaae repreaeutpd, in whom, though a sinner, he nrmir 
believed, that he would tailbfully keep secret whatever we should 

reveal to him : for he honed that through the same means by which 
we regained our libertv he should be restored to the bosom of our 
ioly cnurch, from whicti, like a rotten member, he had been separated 

r libertv he should be restored to the bosom of ■ 

_ ., ,_. .m whicti, like a rotten member, he had been separa. 

thtOQgh his ignorance and sin. This was spoken with such etidi 

him the window, out of which the cane had appeared, and he deter- 
mined to find out the owner of the house. Havmg considered that it 
would be proper to answer the lady's billet, the renagado instantly 
wrote what I dictated to him, which I can repeat correctly to you : 
for not one of the material circumstances which befel me in this 
adventure baa yet escaped my memory, nor ever will, as bug as 1 
Kve. My answer to the Moor was this ; — 

"'The true Alia preservo thee, dear lady, and that blessed Maryem, 
the true mother ofQodI who, because sue loves thee, has inspired 
thee with a desire to go into the land of Christians. Pray thai she 
will instruct thee bow to obey her commands, and she is so good that 
abe will not deny thee. As for myself and Üie Christiana witli me 
we are ready to hazard our Uvm to serve thee. Fail not to wrilo and 
inform me of tby resolutions, and I will always answer thee : for. 
thanks to tbe graat Alia I we have a Christian captive who is well 


!U DO» quísote. 

acqnamted with thy IftUfnaRe ; and thou mayest, without fear, com- 
municate anylhinif to us. I jiromise thee, ou the name of a good Chris- 
tian, to make thee my wife, as soon as we reach a Christian country : 
and be assured tlie Christians perform their promises. AUa and 
Muyem his mother, protect thee, dear lady ! ' 

"My letter teing thni prepared, I waited for two days, when an 
opportunity again offered of bcin? alone on the temce ; and the csoe 
soon made its appearance, thoiigh I eould not see by whom itwii 
held. I found tfie thread already attached to the end of it to receive 
my letter, which I immediiitelT fastened to it. Shortly after the 
handkercniet was dropped, in wiuch I now found gold and sQyer ccm 
to the amonnt of fifty crowns — a joyful sight, when regarded as the 
means of obtaining liberty. On the same evening we were told by 
our renegado that this house was inhabited by n very rich Moor, 
named Agi-Morato ; and that he had an only danghter, neiress to his 
whole property, who was considered the most heautifnl wnman in all 
Barbary : and that several of the viceroys who had been sent thither 
had aoug-ht her in marriage, but that she had rejected them. He alao 
learned that she had a Christian woman-skve, who died some time 

r escape into Cbris- 

, -„..- hou]' * ' " 

letter from Zoraida (the name of her who n 
Itfaria) ; for it was obvious that she was in possession of tbe snreit 
means of effecting oar design. During the four followbg: daya, the 
bath was constantly fidl of people ; but the first time it was vacant 
the cane again appeared with the prolific haodkerchief. The billet I 
then received contained these words :— 

" ' I do not know, dear aignor, how we are to get to Sptdn inor has 
Leila Maryem informed me, although I have asked her. The only 
means 1 can think of is to convey to thee through this winiiow a la^e 
anm of money, with which thou mayest redeem thyself and friends ; 
one of whom may then procure a bark from the land of the Christiana, 
and return to the rest. I will be ready in my father's garden, at the 
Sabazon-gate, close to the sea-side— thou mayest safelv convey me 
thence to the bark ; but remember thou art to be my husoand ; other- 
wise I will pmy to Maryem to punish thee. If thou canst trust 
nobody to go for the bark, ransom thyself and go ; for I shall be 
seoore of thy return, as thou art a gentleman and a Christian. Take 
tare not to mistJie the garden; wlicn I see thee walking there, t 
shall conclude thou art alone, and will furnish thee witn money. 
Alia preserve thee, dear signor I ' 

" On hearing the proposal contained in this letter, each offered him- 
self to be the ransomed person; promising faithfulbr to return with 
the boat. But the renegado would not trust any of oa : for he said 
he well knew, by esperience, how seldom promises made in slavery 
are remembered after a release from bondage. Many captives of dis- 
tinction, he said, had tried this expedient : ransommg one, to send 
with money to Valencia or Majorca, in order to procure a vessel foi 
the oraiveyance of others ; but none ever retomea to fulfil his engage- 
ment i fcxc the dread of again falling intfl captivity effaces fnon tna 
,, .A.HOglC 


roemor; every other obligation. In confinnBtian of what he said, be 
relatea to ns many eitrsonünar; instances of the kind ; tmd he oon- 
cluded with sayiu^ that the best way would be to give the money 
intended for the ransom of aCbristian, tobiiii, that he might purchue 
a vessel there, in AJ^^crs, under pretence of turning' merchant, and 
tradioff to letusn, and along the coast ; that when master of the 
Teasel be ooald easily contrive means to get ua from the bath, and put 
as on board ; especially if tlie Moor would furnish money enough to 
zedeern us all. The sreatest difficulty, be said, was that the Moora 
do not allow a reuenBiIo to have anv but Urge vessels &tted for pir»- 
tioBl uses, as they suspect their rc^ motives, if they purchase small 
<Kie8 ; but he thought this objectiou might be removed bytaking in ft 
Tagarin Moor as a partner in his mercantile conocm. Having once 
[iDt a vessel at their command, he assured us we might consider ever;- 
«úng as acMHnplislied. 

" Althongh my oompanions and myself would have preferred send- 
ing for the vessel to Majorca, as the Moorish Udy proposed, yet we 
dued not contradict him, lest he should betray our project, and by 
discovering the clandestine correspondence of Zuraida, endúiger her 
life, for whom we would willingly have sacrificed our own : we there- 
fore resolved to commit ouraelvea into the hands of God, and trust 
the renesado. He instantly wrote my answer to Zoraida, saying that 
we wouÚ do all she advised, for she had directed as well as if Leila 
Maryem herself had inspired her ;. that the delay or immediate eiecn- 
tionof the plan depended solely upon herself; and I repeated my 
proDÜae to become her husband. The next day. therefore, when the 
bath was clear, she at varióos times, with the nelp of the cane and 
kandkerchief, gave us two thousand crowns iu gold, and a paper 
informing me that on the first Jama, that is Friday, she was to go to 
her father's garden, and that before she went she would give us more 
money : desiring ns to tell her if it was not sufficient, as she ooold 

S've us anv sum ; having such ahuudaooe under her oare that her 
ther would never miss it. 

"Weimmediatciyeave five hundred crowns to the renegaoo, to 
buy the vessel With eight hundred I ransomed myself, and depo- 
sited the money with a merchant of Valencia then at Algiers, who 
redeemed me from the king ; passing his word for me that by the first 
ship from Valencia my ransom shonld be paid: for had he paid him 
then, it would have made the king suspect that it had lain some 
time in his hands, and that he had employed it to bis own use. Indeed 
it would have been by no means safe, with a master of such a dispo- 
sition as mine to have paid the money immediately. The Thnrsoay 
preceding the Friday on which the fiur Zoraida was to go to the 
garden, she gave us a thousand crowns more, with a billet entreating 
me when I was ransomed to seek her father's garden, and take ererr 
c^wrtunity of seeing her. I promised her in a tew words that I 
would not fail, and oegged that she would recommend us in her 
pr^tera to Leila Maryem. We now concerted the means for redeem- 
ing our three eonpanions, lest if I were ransomed without tl)cm 
they might feel uneasy, and be tempted by the devil to do something 
to the prejudice of Zoraida : 1 therefore ransomed them in the saine 
w^, and placed the whole amount in the hands of the merchant, that 
be might have no fear in becoming responsible for us ; although we 
did not ft^fnit him into QUI oonfideoco* 



Witrein IÍ4 rafliet amtinnu kü lUny. 

"Ous renegado about fifteen days afterwards pnrcboae^ uTerjpiod 
bsrk, lai^e enough to bold ttuii.; pcruiiis : and to prevent suspidan 
he made & short voyage to a place called Sargcl, thirtr letiguea from 
iJgteta, tovards Oraa— a place of great trade fur dried ñgi. Twoor 
three time» he made this trip, aceompanied by hia Tafnirin partner. 
The Moore o^ Arragon are in Barbary called Tagannn, and thoM 
of Granad^ Mudejares ; and in the kingdom of Fez the Mudejarps 


„ le frott, which her father often mn him, without knowing 

who he was. Hia objecC was to speak toZotaida, and tell her that 
he was the person whom I had entrusted to convey her to Christen- 
dom, and that ahe mij^t feel in perfect security. But this was 
imp08sibl& as the Moorish woman never suffer themselves to be seen 
cither by Moor or Turk, unless by the command of their busbundfi or 
&thers : tbouKh Christian slaves, it is tme, are allowed to converse 
with them, and perhaps even with too mneh freedom. 1 should have 
been sorry iif he had spoken to her, as she might have been alarmed at 
the afhirnaving been entrusted to a renegado; bathehadnoopportn- 
tdty of effecting Ids design. Finding that be could now safelr go to and 
from Sargel, and anchor where he pleased, and that the Tagaiin, his 
partner, was wholly subservient to him— m short, that nothing was 
~uitÍDg bnt some Christians to assist at the oar — he desired n '- 

.*-* r i_ 1 1 J „ 4.1,.^ i„n — _: — xi_:J_, 

immediately engaged twelve Spaniards, all able rowera, wham jnat 
that time it was no easy matter to proeare ; for there were {wen 

detenmne on onr pwty, and be^ r(»dy on the following Friday. I 
" ■ '' ' ' . . . t. • i 11 1 1 ^-gra, whom iiiat at 

_ ... , ._ ^_ , ... there wereiwentr 

corsairs out on pirating excursions, and they had taken ahnost aU 
the rowere with them. All I said to them was, that they must stcAl 
privately ont of the town on the following Friday, in the dusk of the 
evening, and wait for me near Agi-Morato's garden; and with this 
caution, which I cave to each separately, that if they should see any 
other Cnmtiana there, they had only to say I ordered them to stay for 
me in that plaoe. 

"After these steps were taken, one thing was yet wanting, and that 
the most essmtial of all namely, to apprise Zoraida of our intended 
movements, that she might not I» alarmed if wc rushed upon her with- 
out previous warning. 1 went, therefore, myself, on the dav preceding 
oar departure, to the garden, under pretence of ifathering herbs. The 
first person i met was her father, who uddreaaca me in a jargon which 
is used over all Barbary, and even at Constantinople, amoi^ the csp- 
tirea and Moors. It is neither Morisoo nor GastiliaiL nor the languaKO 
ti any other n^ion, bat a medley of several, and is very generallr 


imderatood. He Mked me what 1 songlit fot in tliat garden, and to 
vhom I belonged P I told him that I «u B slave of Aniaut« Mami, his 
friend, and that I came to reqnest herbs for his table. He tbenasked 
me iF I vaa npon ransom ? At this moment the fair Zoralda, having 
obserred me in the giirden, had quitted the house, and came towards 
ns. Her father seemg her slowl; approach, called her to him. It 
would be in Tain for me to attempt to describe the beautiful creature 
who then appeared before my eyes. More jewels hung about her 
lovelf Beck, aud were sospenoed from her can, or scattered orer her 
tieaaes, than she had haira oo her head. Her ancles were, acconUng 
to custom, bare, and encircled b; cartaxes, or foot-bracelets, of the 

C«t gold, and so studded with diamonds that, as she told me since, 
father valued tbem at ten thousand pistolea ; and those she wore 
on ber arms were of eq;ual laiue. Pearls of the fiuest jiualitv were 
sbewed about her iu profusion: those precious fceois, indeed, form 
one of the principal emiielltshments of tbe MoorisL ladies, and are, 
therefore, in great reqnest among tbe nativea. Zoraida'a father was 
said to have possessed them in abundance, and other wealth to ttie 
«moont of two hundred thousand crowns: of all which she who ia 
DOW mine was once sole mistress. Whether or not slie then appeared 
beautiful thus adorned, and in the days of her prosperity, may be 
eoiijectured b; what rcmmns after so maiu' fatitrocs; for it is well 
known that beauty is olten at the mercy of aocident as well as liable 
to be improved or unpaired b; the passions. In short, I gaced upon 
ber as the most lovely object my eyes had ever beheld. Indeed, when 
Iconsidercdmy obligations to her, I could only regard her as an angel 
descended from heaven for my deliverance. 

" When she had oume np to us, her father told her in his own lan- 
irnage, that 1 was a captive belonging to his friend Amante Mami. 
^le then asked me, iu that medley speech which I mentioned to you, 
whether I was aRCutlemao, and woy I did not ransom mvself. I tola 
ber that I was already ransomed, aud by the sum whicQ was to be 
paid she might judge how my master ranked me, whose demand had 
been fifteen hnndred pieces of eight. ' Truly,' said she, ' had yon 
belonged to my father, he should not have parted ivilh you for twice 
that sum : for you Christians always deceive in the account you giro 
of yourselves, pretending to be poor, in order to cheat the Moors.' 
' It may be so, signora,' answered L, ' out, in truth, I dealt sincerely 
with mv master, and shall ever do the same b^ everybody.' ' And 
when do you go away P ' said Zoraida. ' I believe tO'Uiorrow,' stud 
I: 'for there is a French vessel which is expected to sail then, and 
1 intend to go in her.' ' Would it not be better,' replied ¡ioraida, 
' to stay until some ships come from Spain, and go with one of them, 
rather than with tbe French, who are not your friends ? ' 'I think 
not, signore,' replied I: ' bnt should the late intelligcnoe of the arrival 
of a Spanish ship prove true, I would perhaps stay a short time 
longer ; it is, however, more probable that I shidl depart to-morrow : 
for I so ardently desire to be in my own country, and with the 
persons I love, that I am impatient of any delay.' ' You are, 
perhaps, married,' said Zorwda, 'and therefore anxious to return, 
and he at home witlt your wife f ' ' No, indeed,' I replied, ' but 
I am nnder an engagement to marrr as soon as I return. ' And is 
the lady to whom you are engagea beautifulP ' said. Zoraida. ' So 
beavtifel,' answered I, 'that to oompliment her, and say^ the bruth, 

Bhe is ver7 like joaratM.' Her fotber laiubed faeartQy at this, and 

aation. beine better acaoainted than slie waa with the language ; for, 
thougfi she knew sometDing of it, she expnssed ber mesiuiig more by 
signs than words. 

"While we were thus engaged, aUoorcame mmiing to ns, cr^ma 
aloud that four Turks bad leaped over the wall of the garden, and 
were feathering the fruit, though it was not vet ripe. Tlie old mait 
as weU as Zoraida, was much alarmed ; for tne Moors are afraid of 
the Turks, especially their soldiers, whose conduct towards them is 
insolent and imperious ; even more so than to their sJaTOS. Zoraida's 
father therefore said to her, ' Daughter, make haste into tbe house, 
and lock yonrself in, while I go and speak to these doRS ; and you. 
Christian, gnther your herbs, and begone in peace, and Alia send ywi 
safe to your own country.' I made my obeisance, and he went rfter 
the Tarks. Zoraida also retired, but as soon as her father was out of 
sight she returned to me, and said, with her eyes fall of tears, 
'Ataméji, ChriatianoP Ataméjií' that is, 'Art tnoo going away. 
Christian? Art thou goini;!'' 'Yea, dearest lady,' said I. 'hnt 
not without you. Espect me the neit Juma, and be not alarmed 
when jon see os : for we will convey you safely to a Christian land.' 
Bhe nnderstood all that I said ; and, throwing- her arm about my neck, 
she began wiüi faltering steps t^i move towartu the house ; «hen, unfor- 
tunately as it might bave proved, her ftrfher returned and saw us in that 
attitude. We were aware that he had seen na, and Zoraida had the 
presence of mind not to take ber arm from mv neck, but rather held 
me closer ; and letting her head faU upon my breast, and beading her 
knees, she pretended to be fainting : so that I appeared to be uiuler 
the necessity of supporting her. Her father came running to us, and 
seeing his daughter in that situation, inquired the oause. But as 
^B made no replv, he said, 'These d(^:s have certainly terriBed 
her/ and taking ber from me, he supported her in his arms; and 
she, heaving a deep sigh, with her eyes still fall of tears, said, 
'Ameii, Christiano, ameii!' ' B^;one, Christian, begone!' Her 
father stai, 'There is no occasion, child, for the Christian to go 
away ; he has done you no barm, and the 'Tiirks are gone off. Be not 
aUrmed, for there is no danger.' ' They have indeed frightened ber 
Tery much,' said 1, ' and as she desires me to go, 1 will not disobey ; 
but, wiih your leave, 1 will come again to this garden for herbs. 
Peace he with you.' 'Come whenever you please,' said Agi-Morato; 
' for my daughter does not say this as having been offended bj 
you or any other Christian.' I now took my leave of them both; 
and she looking as if her soul had been rent from her. went away 
with her father, while I, under pretence of gathering oerbs, care- 
fully surveyed tbe whole garden, examining all the inlets and o«t- 
lets, the strength of the house, and whatever might t^id to facilitate 
our business, 

"Having finished my observations. I communicated to the reno- 
gado and my companions all that had passed, aTixiously wishing for 
ue hour whea I might securely enjoy the hanpineas which fortune 
preaented to me in lie oompany of Ute beratiful Zorauk. 

, , . .A.OOgIC 


with the fairest prospect of success, the day foltowin? niyintervie' 
with Zoraida, our renefrado, at the close of tiie eveninii, cast anchor 
■haost opposite her resideace ; and the ChriBtiftns who vert to be 
emplojcd id the oar vere ready, and conceided about the uei^rh- 
boórhood, anxiously waiting for me, and eager to sarprise the bark, 
which was Ijiuft within view ; for they knew nothing of our plan, but 
thoojHit Ihey were to regain their lilierty by force and by killing the 
Moors who were on board the vessel: they joined us, therefore, the 
moment we made our &ppearuiice. Tbe crítitál time was now arrived, 
tbe city nitesbeinKshnC, and not a person to be seen abroad: we there- 
fore dehberated wnether it would be better to go first to Zoraidn, or 
aecore the Moors who rowed tbe vessel. In the meantime, our 
renegada came to ns, asking us why we delayed? for that now was 
tlie time, all his Moois being thonghtless of danger and most of them 
Mieep, When we told him wh¿ we were consulting about, he 
■ssored ns that it waa necesaary ñist to seize tbe vessel, which might 
be done with the utmost ease and safetv ; and then we mi^bt po for 
Zonuda. We all approved his oounsel, and guided by him imme- 
diately proceeded to the vessel -when ne leaping in firet drew his 
entlass, and said in Morisco, 'Let not one man of you stir, or be 
ahall instantly die.' All the Christians quickly followed their leader; 
and the Moora, who were cowardly fellows, in great alarm and wilh- 
(mt making an» resistance (for indeed they hod few or no arras) 
quietly aufferea themselves to be bound, which was done in a 
moment; the Christians still threatening that if they made the least 
noise they wotdd instantly put them all to death. 

" This being done, and half our number left on board to guard 
them, the remainder, led on by tbe renegado, went to Agi-Morato's 
prden. Fortunately the door opened as easily to us as if it had not 
been locked ; and we came up to the house in profound silence. The 
lovely Zoraida was waiting for na at a window; and hearing ns 
approach, she asked in a low voice whether we were Na/areni — that 
i^ Christians. I answered in the affirmative, and desired her to come 
down. She knew my voice, and instantly obeyed the summons, 
ap^aring to ns beaatifnl bej-ond description, and in the richest 
■ttire. I took her hand, and, kissing il the renegado and the rest 
of OUT party followed my example, thinking that I only meant to 
express oar thanks and acknowfei^meota t^ her as the instrument 
of onr deÜTeroDoe. The renegado asked her in Morisco wheth^ 
her fether was in the house. She said that he was, but that he 
wosulcep. ' Then we most awake him,' replied the renegado, 'and 
earry him and all his treasun» with ns.' 'No,' said slie, 'my 
father sholi not be toncbed ; and there is nothing of much value but 
what I have with me, which is sufficient to satisfy and enrich yoa 
all: wait a moment and roti shall oee.' She then went in again, 
pt«mising to return qnicuy, and entreiatiiig na to be silent. The 
renegado having told me what hod passed, I insisted that she should 
be obeyed in every thing, Zoraida soon retumel with a httlo trunk 
BO full of gold crowns that she could scarcely carry it. 

" Id the meantime the father of Zoraida unfortunately awoke, and 

hswinp a noise in the (^den, looked out at the window and saw the 

ChriBttans. Upra whub be cried out as loud ai be ooold in Arabic. 

,, .A.OOgIC 

no DON qinZOTX. 

' ChristiaDS, Christüna ! thierefi, thieves ! ' Hia ontciy threw ns sU 
into the utmott constenution. The reneeado, perceivins our duifrer 
aiuJ tbe necessity of prompt exertion, rushed up witb seTeral others 
to the chsmher of Aei-Morato ; trhile I remained belov, not dsrit^ 
to quit Zocaida, who had fainted in my arms. They acquitted them- 
solTea 80 well tW in a moment they came down with their {irisoncr. 
his hands tied, and hia mouth stripped witb a handkerchief, ana 
threatening, if he made tbe least noise, that it would cost him his 
life. Wheo Zoraida saw her father, she covered her eyes, to avoid 
the sight of him; and he was astonished to see her with as, but 
little thought how willinglr she had put iierself into oar hands. 
Vie hastened with all possibie speed to the bark, where our com- 
rades were waiting for us with impatience; and scarcely two boure 
of the niicht had passed when we were all rafely on boara, We now 
untied the hands of Zoraida's father, and took the handkerchief out 
of his mouth ; but the renegado again warned him, at peril of his 
lif& not to speak a word. ^Vhen he saw hia daughter, he began to 
sigh piteoosly ; especially when he observed that 1 hdd her closely 
embraced, without resistance or comphdnt on her part : nevertheless 
he remained ailent, lest we should put the renegado s threat into 

" TV'hen Zoraida saw that we were on the point of leaving the 
coast, she bei^d the renwado to commnnicale to me her wish 
that I would unbind the Moors, and set her father at liberty, for 
that she would sooner throw herself into tbe sea than behold a 
parent who loved her so tenderly carried away captive before ber 
eyes, and upon her account. The renegado told me her request, 
tuid I desired that she might be gratiñed ; but he refused to com- 
ply, sa/ing that if they were put on shore at that place they would 
unmediately raise the country and despatch armed vessels to pursue 
ns ; and, thus beset by sea and land, it would be impossible for us to 
escape : all, therefore, that could be done was to give them their 
liberty at the first Christian country we should touch at. In this 
opinion we all concurred j and Zoraioa was herself satisfied, on hear- 
ing our dt^termittution, with the reasons why we could not then gtant 
her request. With glad silence and cheerful dihgence, our brave 
rowers now handled their oars ; and recomniendinf^ ourselves to God 
with all our hearts, we bc^aa to make towards the island of Majorca, 
which is the nearest Christian land. But the north wind betrinoinr 
to blow freshly, and the sea being somewhat rough, it was foiuid 
impossible to steer our course to M^orca, and we were compelled to 
keep along shore towards Oran ; though not without great apprehen- 
sions of being discovered from the town of Sargel, which lies on that 
coastj about sixty miles trom Algiers. We were afraid, likewise, of 
meeting in our passage with some of the galleots which bring nier- 
chandise from Tetuan ; though, unless it was a cruizer, we trusted 
we should be able to defend ourselves, if not capture some vessel 
wherein we might more securely pursue our voyage. During this 
time Zoraida kept het bead constantly upon my breast, that she might 
not look at her lather ; and I could hear her continually calling upon 
Iiella Maryem to assist us. 

" We had rowed about thir^ nulea when morning dawned, and we 
found ourselves near ashore which seemed to be quite a liesert, and 
no human creature to be seen. However, by labouring hard at tbe 



-o repose, but that they could eat and re ., _. 

if Ü10M vho were itneioployed would iuppljtbem. Thisv . ..., 
but soon the wind bepsn lo blow a brisk gJe, which compellf d us to 
liy Rude our oars ; therefore boistiofi üíl, we steered directly to 
Oran, as it wea impossible to hold any other course; and we pro- 
ceeded with Rreat rapidity, without any other fear than that of 
mectii^ Bome corsair. We gave provisions to the Mooriah pri- 
soners, oondbrtinz tbem with the assurance that they were not 
slaves, but should have their liberty the first opportumly; and we 

Cmised the same to Zontida's father. 'I might hope for much,' 
replied, ' from your liberality and (feverous treatment, O Chris- 
tians ! but I ua not so simple as to expect my liberty, or that you 
would expose yootaelves to dan$^r in roobing me of it without some 
new to my ransom; however, you have only to name the sum yon 
requim fur myself and this my unhappy daughter, who is the better 
part of my sua!,' Ue then wept so bitterly that we were moved to 
compasaiim ; and Z<iraida lookin:; up and seeing her father in tears, 
left niK to throw herself into his arma. Nothing could be more affecting 
than the scene. The fatiier now observing her rich attire, said, 
' Huw is tliis, daughter P— last night, I saw you dressed as usmiL 
and DOW you are adoi-ned in ycmr gayest apparell' She answered not 
a word. The renegado interpreU'd to us what the Moor had said, 
for he had spoken in his ownlangiiage. He then noticed the casket in 
which bis daughter kept her jewels, and being still more perplexed, 
he asked how it had come into our bands, and what it contamed. 
The renegado now int<-rp03ed, saying, ' l>o not trouble your^if with 
M> many questions, siguor ; fur in a word I can answer alt— your 
daoghter is a Clirisliau, and has been the means of ¿ling off our 
chains and restoring us to hberty. She is here with her own con- 
Mait, and I beheve, well pleased ; like one who goea out of darkness 
ijito bght, from death to life, and from suffering fo glory,' ' Is this 
true, daughterf said the Moor. "It is,' answered Zoraida. 'You 
are iJieu become a Christian,' replied the old man, ' and have thrown 
your father into the power of his enemies F' To which Zoraida 
answered : ' I am indeed a Christian, but I never thonght of doing 
you barm ; I only wished lo do myself good.' ' And what good have 
you done yourself, my datighterr 'Ask that,' answered she, 'of 
Leila Maryem, who can tell yon better than 1 can.' On hearing his 
daughter spejdc thus, the Moor with endden impetuosity threw him- 
self headlong into the sea. and would certainly have been drowned 
had not the wide and cumbrous garments he wore kept him a short 
time above water. Zoraida called out to us to save ium, and we idl 
hastened to his assistance, and dragged him out half 'drowned and sense- 
les^asightwhich so much affected ¿oraida that she lamented over him 
a* if he were dead. We placed him so that he might disgorge the 
water he had swallowed, and in about two hours he recovered hia 
senses. In the meantime, the wind changing, we were obliged to 
ply our oars to avoid running upon the shore; and by good fortune 
we came to a oreek by the side of a small promontory, which by 
tlie liiaoa ia called the c^e of Cava Bniiiia, meaning m our lao- 

fiSS BOX ofiaaa. 

rnage 'TbewkkedChnitianTomani' ferthelíoonhareatradítiflii 
tnat Cava," who occasicmed' the losa of Bpsin, lies bmied tbero. 
Althougli they reckon it on ill omen to be forced to utclior at áaa 
place, it proved a safe harboiir to lU, ooiuideriiig hov bigli ike su 
ran. We placed seotiiiels on shorc, and never dropped oar oan ; 
and after partaking of the refrestuneuta vliich the rendado had pro- 
vided, we prajed devontlj to Ciod and to our Lady for asaiatinw 
and protection in the happy aocompliahment of oni enterpriae; 
Order was gtvea, al Zoraida » entreaty, to set her father oa uiore, 
and also the rest of the Moors, who nntil now had been faat bonad; 
for her tender heart could not euduce to see her fathec and oonntr;- 
nen under confiuemetit. We promised ber it should be done whü 
ve put to sea again, smce we ran no risk in leaving them in so dcao- 
late a place. Our prayen were not in rain : for tlie wind piesently 
dian^ in oor favour, and the sea was calm, innting lu to pniseoute 
ocir voyage. 

" We now unbound the Moors, and sent them one by one on shore, 
to their great surprise } bat when we came to Znaida's &theT, who 
vas then perfectly in his senses, he said, ' Why, Christians, is this 
wicked woman desirous of my being set at hberty ? Think yon it is 
out of filial piety f No, oertainly : it is becaose my presence wonld 
disturb her m the indulgcoce of her evil inclinations. Nor think she 
is moved to change her religion because she thinks it better than 
ours; no, because ahe knoics that there is more Loeutiousness in 

iour country,' Then, tomine to Zoraida, while we held him iaiA, 
«t he should do her any violence, he said, ' Thou ill-advised, iitaa 
infamous girll whither art thou blindly going with these dogs, our 
natural enemies F Cursed be the hour wherein I beeat thee, and 
cnrsed the indulgence and luxury in which I bronght thee np I' 
Finding him not disposed to be soon silent, I hurried him ashore, 
where be continued his eieorationa andwaihngs. praying to Mahomet 
that he would beseech Heaven to destroy, coafound, and annihilate 
us; and when we had got too far off to hear his words, we could see 
hiui tearing his beard, plucking off his hair, and rolling himself o« 
the ground : so bish lie once raised his vojoe that these words nacbed 
OS, Gome back, beloved daughter ! come back, and 1 will forgive 
thee eJI ! Let those men keep the money they have, bat do than 
come back, and comfort thy wretched father, who moat perish 
in this desert land if (hou forsakeet him [' All this Zoraida heard — 
all this she felt and bewailed : but could only say in reply, ' May it 
please All», my dear futhor, tWt Leila Alaryem, who has been the 
cause of my turning Christian, may comfort you in your affiotítm! 
Alk well knows that I could not do otherwise than Ihave done, and 
that these Christians owe me no thanks for any favour to thorn, sinec 
mr mind would never have had rest until I had perfwined thñ woric, 
which to me seems as good as yon, my dearest father, think it bad. 
Bat her father could no longer see or hear her. I said all I oonld to 
console her as we proceeded on our voyage, and happily the wind 
was M favoarabie tltst ve made no doubt of l>eing next morning npoa 
the coast of Spain. 
" But as good seldom or never comes nnmíxed with evil, it bap- 

w oí bringing the Hoar* 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

Ig ÍDJ of 

>r help, m 

pened mtforimistely, or periiaps thnrofch tiie cam» the Uoorbo- 
Bttnred on bis dangnter (for ft fittber's cune is nlwajs to be dreaded, 
«^iBterer he duq' he) — 1 ttj it happaied that about the third hour 
of the night, when we ware far out to tea, and under full sail, 
we discovered b; the Ught of the mixai aMmid tcsmI with all het 
wila out, a little a-beod of us, but so near tliat to avoid mnmng 
fonl of her we were forced to strike sail, azid they also put the helm 
Wd Dp, to enable ua to paas. The men hod posted tbemselTes on 
tbe quarteMlack, to ask who we were, whither wc were goinjr, and, 
vbeace we oanie : but ai their inquiries were m I'rench, out rene- 
gado said, ' Let no one anawer, for these are certainlj French cor- 
sairs, who plunder everything- that falls in their waj.' Upon this 
oanbon all were uleut. and we c<Hitiuned our course, their vessel 
being to the windwara ; but we had not proceeded far when thej 
tndoeolf fiied two guns, and both, as it appeared, with dutin-abot, 
for one cat our niast through the nuddie, which together with the 
imI fell into tbe sea, and the other at the same instant came through 
the middle of our bark, laying it quite open, though without wound- 

ir of US. But finding onrselves sinkiotr, we ocftan to cry aloud 
D, and entreated them to save oa from dtowmng. They then 
■uncdc their sails, and sent out a boat, with twelve frenchmen on 
board, wrll aimed with muskets, end their matches lighted; but 
seeing bow few we were, and that oor vessel was sinking, they look 
na in, and told as that we bad suffered for our inciTility m returning 
tliem DO answer. Our renegado took the trunk oontaiuing Zoraida's 
treoBiire^ and unpcrccived threw it into tbe at*. In short, we all 
passed mto the Trench ship, where, having gained boai us all tbe 
information they wanted, they proceeded to treat us as enemiea, 
stripping us of ererytbing, even of the braoetets which Zoraida wore 

rn her ancles. But 1 suffered most from apprubensioDs lest they 
old Tvb her of the moat precious jewel of alL But tbe desires of 
these kind of men seldom extend &iither than to money, in the pur- 
miit of which they are insatiable. They would have taken away 
eren tbe elotbes we wore as sIbvbb, bad thej thought them of the 
SB&llcst value, Bome of them propráed throwing ns all overboard, 
wrapped up in a sail : for their object was to trade in some of the 
Bpaiush porta, pretending to be of Brittaikv; and should tbey ctury na 
nth them thej; would there be seiied and Dunishcd for the robbery, 
fist the catrtain, who bad plundered my dear Zoraida, aaid he was 
oonlei^d with what he had already got, and that be wonld not touch 
at any part of Bpaiu, but pass the Straits of Gibraltar by night, and 
make tae beat of his «ay for Boohelle, whence be came : aud tbere- 
iort thoy finally agreed to provide ns with a boat and what was 
BCOeasnj for so short a voya^ as we bad to make. This they did on 
the following day, when in view of the Spanish coast, at the iñght d 
which all OUT troubles were forgott«air-so great is the delist of 
icgatning liberty ! It was about noon when they dismissed ns, with 
two barrels of water and some biscuit, Tite captain was even so far 
moved by compassion as to ^re Zoraida about forty crowns in gold, 
at the sanie time forbidding his soldiers to strip her of her clothes, the 
■ante which she now wean. 

" We expressed to them more gratitude for what thev refrained 
bota doing than resentment for what w« had suffered from them ; 
and tbos we separated, the; steering towards tbe Straits, and we 


towards the land before ns, towiite aa hard that we hoped to retoh it 
before moming. Sooie of our party thoaght it unsafe to land at ámk 
apon a <x«st vilb which we were onMtqaaintcd ; vbile others were 
so impfttieat, that they were for making the attempt even tfamiRh 
among rocks, rather than be exposed to the ooreain of Tettiss, «no 
are often at nuht in Earbtur? tuid the neit moniinif on the eoaat of 
Spun, where the; nsuallr make some prize, and return to sleep at 
their own homei. It was agreed at lust that we shoald row goitl; 
towards the shore, and, if the sea proved calm, land where we oonld : 
and before PiidniRbt we found ourselves close to a hirge and high 
mountain, at the foot of which there was a convenient landing-place. 
We ran onr boat into the sand, leaped on shore, and kissed the 
ground: tlianking God with tears of jo; for the happy termination of 
onr perilous voyage. We dragged oar boat on shore, and then 
climbed the mountaio, scarcely crediting that we «ere really npon 
Christian ground. We were anxions for day-break ; but having at 
leugtli gained the top of the mountain, whence we had himrd to dis- 
cover some village or shepherd's but, we could see no indications of 
human abode ; we therefore proceeded farther into the country, 
trusting we should soon meet wilh some person to inform na where 
we were. But what moat troubled me was to see Zoraida travel OB 
foot through those or^gy places ; for though I somelinips carried Her 
in my arnia, she was more distressed than relieved by my labour. I 
therefore led her by the hand, and she bore the fatigue with the 
utmost patience and cheerfulness. 

"Thus we procreded for about a quarter of a league, when the 
sound of a little bell reached our earn, which was a signal that flocks 
were near ; and eagerly looking around us, we perceived a ^<mn^ 
shepherd at the foot of a cork-tree, quiellv shaping a stick with hu 
knife. We called out lo him, npon which be raised his head and 
hastily got up ; and, the first who presented themselves to his sight 
being the renegado and Zoraidoj in Moorish babits, he thought all the 
Moors in Bartery were upon him ; making, tliereforo, towards the 
wood with incredible speed, he cried out, as toad ai be could, 
' Moors ! the Moors are landed ! Moors, Moors ! arm, ann 1 ' Wo 
were perplcied at first how lo act; but considering that he wonid 
certainly alarm the country, and that the mibtia of the coast would 
soon be out to see what was the matter, we agreed that the renefado 
should strip off bis Turkish habit, and put on a jerkin, or slave's cas- 
sock, vbiák one of onr party immediately gave him, leaving hinwelf 
only in his shirt. Then recommending ourseWee to Heaven, we pur- 
sued the same road that the shepherd had taken, expecting everj 
moment tljat the coast-guard would he upon us. Nor were we 
deceived in our apprehensions, for not long afterwards, when we 
were descending into the plain, we discovered above fifty horsemen 
advancing at a half-ffallop ; upon which we stood still to wait their 
approach : but as they drew near and found, instead of the Moors 
they had expected, a party of poor Christian captives, they were not 
a little Burjaised ; and one of them asked us whether we had been tb« 
c:iuse of the alarm spread in the country. 1 told bim that 1 believed 
so, and was proceeding to inform him whence we came, and who we 
were, when one of our party recognised the horseman who hod 
questioned us ; and interrupting ne, he exolaimed, ' God be praised 
for fahnging u to this part oí the oonstrj 1 far if I am not mistakei^ 

THB captive's iDTHnrcMi coscluded. 235 

the BTOondwa ttaiid upon ia the tetriloij ofVelexHakga; and if 
long captivit/ has not impaired m; raemorj', tou, sir, irbo now qncs- 
ttoQ ua, are Pedro de Boatamente, my uncle.' Scarce)^ had tha 

Christian captive ceased speaking, vhen the horseman threw fatmsflf 
from his hone, and na (o embraoethe yoang'msn, si^ng^to liim, 
'Dew nephew of niy ion!, I well remember tou I How often Imvc f 
bewailed yoor lou, with your motlier ana kindred, who are still 
livina- to ei^oy the pleasnre nt seeing you i^rain ! We knew you were 
in Algiere ; aikd by your dreas, and that of your companions, I eon- 
jeoture thi¿, yoa moat have recovered ynur liberty in some miraciiloua 
manner.' ' It is ao, indeed,' answered the yonng man, ' and when on 
opportunity offers you shall know the whole story,' As soon as the 
horsemen understood that we were Christian captives, they alighted, 
and esoh of them invited us to accept of his horee to carry ns tn the 
city (A Veki Mala;:^ which was a leatrue and a half distant. Smna 
of them vent back to convey the boat tu the ton-n, on being informed 
where we had left it; others took us up behind them, and Zomida 
rode behind our captive's uncle. T!;e news of our coining hnving 
reached the town before us, multitades came out to ffreet us. They 
«ere not mnch sniprised hv the sisht of liberated captives, or Moora 
made alavés, for the people of that const are accustomed to both ' 
hat they were ttmck by tne beauty of Zoraida. «4iich then appeared 
in perfection ; for the exercise of walking, and the delight or being 
RBÍe in Christendom, produced such a oonipleiion that, if my affiKr- 
tion did not deceive mc, the world never saw a more beautiful 

were very like that of Leila MÚyem. The rcne^ndn told her that site 
was rKht,and explaiued to her as well as he could what the; signified, 
that Me miüht adore them as the representations of tlint very I^ll^i 
Maryem who had apnken to her ; nor waa she alow in comprehending 
him, for she had (rood sense, and a ready apurchcnsion. After (hia 
they accoamodated us in different honscs of tne town ; and the Chris- 
tiui, our companion, took the renegado, Zoraida, and m/seif, to the 
honae of bis parents, who treated us with the same kindness tiiey 
■howed towaraa their own son. We stayed in Velrz six days ; \i'hen 
ttw rBDecptdtX having eained all necessary informatiun on the subject. 
lepaired to toe city of Qranada, there to be re-adtnitte<i, by means of 
the holy Inquiaition, into the bosom of onr church. The rest of the 
tnei optivea each went their own way, lenving Zoraida and myself 
to pnmw onn, with no other worldly wealth than the crowns which 
tlie courtoi' of the Frenchman had browed on her ; some of which 
raved wwnil ii 

we sie going to se4 if my father be yet ajive, or whether ny brothei 
have beni more fortunate than myself; though since Heaven has 

K' len me Zoraida, 1 cannot conceive that any better fortune could 
re beblten me. Tha patience with which she bcnra the incon- 
veniences Btteudnnt on poverty, and the fctn'Our of her piety, cxcilea 
my warmest admiration; and I consider myself bound to serve her all 
the days of my life : yet the delight I feel m knowing her to be mino 
Ü sometimes disturbed by an uncertainty whether I shall find any 
eomei ia my owo country wherein to shelter her ; and also «bcUicr 

336 DON QCtxcni. 

time OT death ma; not have made mcli altentions in tnj Euml? tlist I ' 
shall &ad none len to acknowledse me. 

"This, gentlemen, is my story; whether it has been entertainnis 
or nncommon, you are tlie best ludges ; I can only say, for ray enwn 
part, that I would wüUngly have been more brief : and, indeed, I baxe 
omitted many circmuftaucea, leat you should think me tedious." 


As soon Rs the captive ceased speaking, " Tnil;, captain," said Don 
demando, "jour Darratire has been so interesting to ua, both Irom 
the ei^traordinary nature of the events themselTes, and your maoner 
of relating them, that we should not have been wearied, had it luated 
till to-morrow." The whole party now offered their serrices with, 
such GipressioDS of kindness and sinceritr, that the captain felt highly 
gratilicd. Don Fernando in particular ofiered, if be would return with 
him, to prevail with the marquis his brother to stand godfather at 
Zoraida s baptism ¡ and promised on his own ^«rt to afford him all the 
assistance necessary for bis appearance in his own country with the 
di^ty and distinction due to his person. The captive thanked him 
most courteously, but declined Iiis geoerons offers. 

Kight was now advanced, and a coach arrived at the inn, with some 
lior^emen. The travellers wanted lodging for the night, but the hoetcaa 
told them that there was not aa inch of room disengaged in the who)» 
inn. "Notwithstanding that," ^aid one of the men on horsebaok, 
"there must be room made foi- my lord judge here in the coach." Oa 
hearing Uiis, the hostess was disturbed, and said : " Sir, the truth is, 
I liBve tto bed ; but if hia worship, my Wd judge, brings one with him, 
let him enter, in Heaven's &ame¡ for I and my husbaJid will quit our 
own chamber to accommodate his honour." 

" Be it so," quoth the squire : and by thb time a person had 
alighted from the coach, whose garb immediately showed the natui» 
and dignity of his station : fur liis long gown and tucked-up sleeves 
denoted him to be a judge, us his servant bad said. He led by the 
hand a young lady, apparently about si:[teen years of age, in a ridiag- 
dress, so lovely and elegant in hei person, that all were struck with so 
much admiration, that hsd they not seen Dorothea, Ludad^ and 
Zoraida, they would never have believed that there was suoh another 
beautiful damsel in existence. Don Ouizote was prestud, at their 
entrauce, and he thus addressed them ; Your worship may oeeurelj 
enter, and range this castle : for however confined and inconveiuait 
it may be, plan) will always be found for arms and letters ; eapecitUy 
when, like your worship, 'hey appear under the patronage i^oea«t]>: 
for to this fair maiden not only castles should throw open wide their 
gates, but locks divide and separate, and mountains bow their kiR,* 
neads in salutation. Enter, sir, iti'o this paradise ! for here yon will 
find suns and stars vrorthy of that lovcJji heaven you bring vith you. 


Bieie pra wiU fiitd traa in IhaJr Eeutli, vaá beaut]' in perfection ! " 
The judge m&rvelled greatlv at this speech, uid he eanieati; smrejed 
the EnigDt, no leas astonbhed bj his appearance than his discourse, 
and was considering what to say in reply, wlien the other iadiea made 
their appearanca rttraeted by the account the lioetess had given of 
the beeutr of tne young loaf. Don Fernando. Cardcoio, and tlie 
priest, paid their compliments in a more intelhgible manner than Don 
Quiiote, and all the ladii^s of the castle welcomed the fair stranger. 
In short, the judge easily perceived tiiat he was in the company ot 
persiHis of distinction ¡ but the mien, visage, and behaviour of Don 
Quixote confounded hira. After mutual courtesies and inquiries as to 
what accommodation the inn afforded, the arrangements previously 
made were adopted : namely, that all tlie women should lod;^ in the 
larae chamber, and the men remain wilhout, as their gnard. The 
JQdge was content that the young ladv, who was his dau^ter, should 
accompany the other ladies, and she herself readily consented : thus, 
with part of the innkeeper's narrowbed, toifcther with that which tiiB 
judge had brongbt with him, they accommodated thenaelvcs dorinff 
the nigtit better than they had expected. 

The c^ive, from the moment lie saw the judge, felt his heart beat, 
from an impression that this gentleman n-aa his brother. He therefore 
inquired his name and country of one of the servants, who told him that 
he was the lioentiaie Johnl'erei de Viedmn, and he had heard that his 
native place was in a town in the mouotaius of Leon. This account 
confirmed him in the opinion that thia was indeed that brother who, by 
the advice of his bther, had applied himself to letters. Agitated and 
orerjo^ed, he c^cd aside Don Fernando, Cardenio, and the priest^ 
and onnnuuicated to them hia discoverv. The servant had also tola 
hiai that he was going to the Indies, as jndge of the ooorts of Mexico, 
and that the young lady was his dauihter. whose mother had died in 
ññag her birth, bnt had left her a rich inheritance. He asled them 
how they thought he bad best moke himself known, or how he could 
ascertain whether his brother, seeing him so poor, would not be 
ashamed to own him, or receive him to his bniom with affeotion. 
"Leave me to m^e that experiment," said the priest; "not that 1 
m^o an; donbt, signer captain, of yonr meeting with a kind recep- 
tion; for tbere is an ftppearance of worthand good sense in Tonr brother 
which neither implies arrogance nor inalnli^ to appreciate duly the acci- 
denta of (wtime. "Nevertheless," said the captain, "I wonM rather 
not discover myself abruptly to him." " Leave all to me," answered 
the priest, " and I will manage the affair to yonr satisfaction." 

A collation being now ready, they all sat down to table, except the 
captain, to partee of it, and also the ladies, who remained in their 
own ciúmber. The prie^st took this opportnnity of speaking to the 
judge : " My lord, 1 had a comrade of your name in Oonslantinopie, 
wtwe I WM a slave some years. He was a captain, and one of the 
bravest wldicrs in the Spúiish infantry ; bat he was as unfortunate 
as bnwe." " Pray, what was this captain's name? " said the jndge, 
"He was called " answered the priest, " Ruy Perez de Viedma, and 
WW bont in a -village in the motuitains of Leoo. He related to me a 
civoomstonce which, from a person ctf less veracity than himself, I 
shouhj Imtb taken for a tale such as old women tell by a winter's flie- 
sido. He told me that his father had divided his estate equally between 
himself aad Ma three sons, and after giving them certain [oscepta 


betler than those of Cato, he propoied to tliem (be choice of Ihrw 
professions. My friend iiiiopttd lliat of arms, and I tan assure jou 
that he wna so successfu!, Ihut in a few j^ars, without wiy other aid 
ilmn his oirn bravery and merit, lie rose to the rank of a captain of 
foot, and was in the high-road to preferment, «hen fortune jiroyed 
ndvcrse, and be lost her farours, together nilh hia liberty, in that 

Elorious action which Kave freedom lo so many— 1 mean the cattle of 
ifpjinto. I was myseTf taken in Goleta, and afierwards, by differrut 
fidreiitures, we became comrades in Constantinople, He was afier- 
wards sent to Aiders, where he met wiih one of tne BtiTuigest adven- 
tures in the world." The priest then briellv related to him what h:id 
passed between his brother and Zoraida. He was iiatc-nrd to by the 
}ud^ with extreme attention ; bnt he proceeded no fartlier than to 
that point where the Chriatiaits were plundered by the French, and his 
comréde and the beautiful Moor left in poverty ; pretending that he 
knew not what became of them afterwards, whether tliey ever reached 
Spam, or were carried by their captors to Fiaiice. 

The captain stood listening- at some distaoce, and watcbine all the 
emolions of hia brother, who when the priest and finished hia story 
sighed profoundly, andnith tears in bis eyes said, "Oh, sir, yon know 
not how nearly 1 am affected by what you hare commnnicaled ! That 
gallant captain you mention is my elder brother, who, having enter- 
tained more elevated thoughts than my younger brother or myself, 
chose the honourable profession of arms, which was one of the thi-ee 
pursuits projioscd to ua by our father. 1 applied myself to letters, 
which, by the blessing of Heaven and my own eiertioas, has raised me 
to my present rank. My younger brother ia in Peru, ahoundiiiv iu 
riches, and has amply repaid the sum he took out with hiui. Hel:as 
enabled my father to indulge his hberal disposition, and supplied me 
with the means of proseculing my studies with every advantage, until 
I attained the rank which at present I enjoy. My father ia still 
living, and continually prays to God that hia eves may not be closed 
in death before he has once again beheld bis nrst-bom son. It sur- 
prises me that he never communicated his situation lo his famíl;:', for 
had either of us known of it, be need not have waited for the miracle 
of the cane to have obtained his ransom. Mt anxiety is now alout 
the treatment he may have met with from those Frenchmen ; (his 
uncertainty as to his tate will render my voyage most sad and melan- 
choly. Oh, my brother ! if I knew but where to find thee, I would 
deliver thee at any risk. Ah, who shall bear the news to oar aged 
father that thou wt living? Wert thou buried in the deepest dun scon 
of Barbary, his wraith and that oí thy brothers should redeem Üiec ! 
lovely and bountiful Zoraidal who can repay thy kbdness to mj 
brotherP Who shall be so happy as to witness thy regeneration by 
baptism, and be present at thy nuptials, which would ciiu us all s» 
much deLght ? " The judge affected all his auditors by llicseund 
other demonstrations of sorrow and [rat«mal affection. 

The priest, finding he had gained his point according to the cap- 
tain's wish, would no lon^ protract tneir pain, and rising froia 
table, he went into the adjoming- chamber, and led out Zonuda, who 
— ; followed by the other lad:~ <--■--•--'--■<-•- j » -■ 
I, and introauoed them boti 
1- lamentations, for here h 


They have been reduced to poverty by the Freticb|Onlr to liave od 
opportuuity of proving a brothpr's libcrslity." Tlie captain ran 
towards his brother, who Erst held biick to look at him ; then, recoe- 
Iiising him, he pressed him to his heart, while hia eyts overflowed with 
tears of joy. Tlie meeting was mdecd affecting beyond description. 
Prom time (o time their mutual inquiries were auspcinded by reucwed 
demonstratious of fratemal love: often the judge embraced Ziiraida, 
and as often returned her to the caresses of his daaehler : and a most 
pleiEJiiz st^hl it waa to see the mutual embraces of the fair Cbiialum 
Md lovely ^loor. 

Don Quixote was allthia time a silent but attentive observer, sütis- 
fled at the correspondence of these singular eveats with the unnuU of 
chivalry. It was aitreed tiiat the captain and Zoraida should go with 
their brother to Seville, and acquaint tlieir father of hia returu, so tlnit 
the old man m\i^i be present at the baptism and nuptials of Zoraida, 
jw it was impossible for the jud?e to defer his journey Dcyond a monili. 
The night bcbg now far advanced, they proposed retiring to rwiose 
dnrins the remainder, Don Qaíxote offering his service to guara the 
castle, lest some (fiant, or rather miscreant errant, tempted by the 
treasure of beauty there enclosed, ebould presume to make an attack 
upon it. His friends thanked him, and took occasion to amuse the 
judge with an account of his strange frenzy. Sancho Panza alono wag 
out of all patience at silting up so late. However, be was better 
ttccommodated than any of them, upon the accontremeuts of his as^ 
for which he dearly paid, as shall ne hereafter related. The ladies 
having retired to their chamber, and ttie rest accommodated as well 
u they could be, Don Quixote, acconliog to promise, sallied out of 
the inn to take his post al the castle gate. 


Jon before daybreak a volee reached the cars of the Iadies_, so 
tweet and melodious that^ il forcibly arrested their attentioiL especially 
that of Dorothea, by whose side slept Donna Clnra de Viedma, the 
dan;^it«r of the judge. The voice was unaccompanied by any instru- 
ment, and thev were surprised at the skill ot the singer. Sometime» 
tbej fancied that the sound proceeded from the yard, aud at other 
times from the stable. While they were in this uncertainty. Cárdenlo 
came to the ehamher-door, aud úid, " If yon are not asleep, pray 
listen : and yon will hear one oí the muleteers singing cnciiautinily. 
Dorothea told him that tbev had heard him ; upon wliich Cardcnío 
retired. Then listening wiln much attention, Dorothea plainly dis- 
tinguished the following words : — 

Tnu'd in H *•> of dotíbta and fean. 
Lots'* hapleia nwrioer. I «il 

Wh^j'e nd íavjüog poil appean, 
"Sa aurean mo &vm the Mormy gale. 

:■ , .,..l,C:.OOglc 


Atdietnnee vion-'cl, a chfforingsfnr 
CDn<(ui:ta m« tbroii^'h the Bnulliug tid< 

A briglilcr himinary far 

Tbaa Pttlitiurm e er dssciied. 

Mj sout, attraotod by ito Waso, 

Still followi where it hiídU tb» mj. 

And, while attentirelv I gnui, 
Conaidori not how far I «ray. 

But femáis pñde, naorred nnd ehy, 
lilca cloiidi that deepen on the day. 

Oft shrouds it from my longing eya. 
When moflt 1 need the guidju^ tbj, 

0, loidy ttar, ao paie «nd bright I 

Dorotltes thonplit it wm b great loss to Donna Clara not to hear 
such ciceUetit aingins, she then-fore cave her a geatio shake and 
awoke her: " Excuse me, my dear, for disturbing you." she said, 
"since it is onlv that you may tiavc the pleasure of neahcz the 
Bwcetest voice which perhaps tou ever heard in yonr life!" CIutl 
half avake, was obliged to asK Dorothea to repeat what she had said 
to her; after which she endenyoured to oomniand her attention, hut 
had no sooner heard a few words of the song than she was seized with 
a tit of trembline as violent as the attack of a nuarlan ague : and, 
clingiiig round Dorothea, she cried, " Ah, my dear lady I wliy did you 
wake me ? The greatest service that contd he done me would be for 
ever to close both my eyes and ears, that I might neither see nor hoar 
that unhagipy ninsician." "What do yousay, my dear?" answered 
Dorothea; "Is it not a mnleteer who is singing? "Oh no" replied 
Clara ; " be is a young gentleman of lai^e possessions, and so much 
master of my hcurt that, if he reject me not, it shall be his eternally." 
Dorothea was snrprisea at the passionBt« expressions of the fcirt, 
which she would not have expected from one of her tender yean. Slie 
therefore said to her, "Your words surprise me, Signora Clara: 
explain yourself farther ; what is lliia you say of hearts andposaes- 
aions — and who is this musician, whose voice afiect^ yon so muah f 
Biit stay — do not speak just jet ; he seems t^i he preparing to sing 
again, and I must not lose the pleasure (^ hearing faim. Clara, iiow- 
. ever, stopped her own ears with both her hands, to Dorothea's gnat 
surprise, who listened very attentively to the following 

il of patience, airy firad, 
.DULii«v»rT&Dt ofa distant good, 

Aanvtng ooriliul, kiud deouy ; 
Though tortui lu frowns and frieads depart. 

Though Sil^m flies raB, flattering joy, 
Nor thou, DOT loTD, shall leave my doting heott, 

n , . a.ooqIc 


No alma, to laiy oaw rarfffn'd, 

E'ar triuiDph'd over uoble foos: 
The monarob fortune moet ú kind 

To him wbo bravely dares oppms. 
They say, Love ratas his bleSBinga Ugh, 
Uiit who would priie an easy joy I 

My loanijul lair Ihen I'll pursas, 
Tbougb the coy beauty still deniee ; 

1 groTSl DoiF on earth, 'tís tme. 
But, niaed by her, the humble elave muy ri*a. 

_ Here tbe mosiciui ceased to BÍn<;, and Donna Ckm again began to 
sigh, both of vliom excited Dorothea's cnriosity, and alie pressed her 
ta explain what she hod just before said. Clara embraoed her, and 
puttioj? her face close to her ear, she whispered, lest she should be 
overheard by Lncinda— " Th^ sini^er, my dear madam," said she, 
" is the son of an Anaj^an gentleman wbo is lord of two towns, 
and when at conrt lives opposite to mj iathtr. Althoogh my father 
kept bis windows covered with canvas in the winter and lattices in 
lammer, it happened by some chance that this yonog^ntlemsn saw 
mo— «hetliM at choroh, or where it was, 1 know not, but in truth he 
fell in love with me ; sad erpressed hia passion from the window of 
the house by ho many signs and so many teus, that I was foroed to 
believe him. and even to love him too. Among other sigus, he often 
joined one band with the other, signifying his desire to marry me ■ 
atkd thoagh I should bare been Tery glad if it might have been so, jrei 
being alone, and haTing no mother, I knew not who to speak to on 
the sutgeiA ¡ and therefore let it rest, wif boat granting him any other 
favoar than, when his father and mine were abroad^ to lift up the lat- 
tice of my window just to show myself, at which he seemed so 
delighted that you 'would hare thoagiit him mad. When the time of 
myfatl ' ' ' ' ' ''■■■■' " - 

for 1 n 
eiok, a 

conar...__ _.., _. ..„ , ^ ,. 

But after we had travelled two days, on eotering a village about . 
áñ/i journey henoe, I saw him tí the door of an inn, in the habit of 
ft muleteer, so disguised that, had not his im^ been deeply imprinted - 
in Tm heart, I could not have known him. I was surprised and over- 
joved at the siabt of him, and he stole looks at me, nnobservcd by my 
father, whom he eatefnlly avoids when he passes either on the road 
or at the inns. When I lliink who he is, and how he travels on foot, 
beansg so mnch fatigue for love of me, I am ready to die with pity, 
and cannot help following him with my efes. I cannot imanne what 
his intentions ar^ or how he coidd leave his father, who loves him 
passionately, having no other heir, and also because he is so very 
aeaerving. as yon «lU perceive when you sec him. I can assure yo¿ 
besides, that all be singa is of his own composing - for I have heard 
that he is A great scbi^ and a poet. Every time I see him, or hear 
him sing, I tremble all over with fright lest my father should recollect 
hjm, ana discover oui incUnations, Althoagb I never spoke aword to 
him in my life, yet Hove him so well that I cannever live without him. 
TÍút, dear maoún, is dl I can tell you abont him whose voice has pleased 
jon so much; by that alone yon may easily perceive that ho is no 
muleteer, but master of hearts and towns, as I have already told yon.' 

S32 sov QTTixon. 

"Euongb, mj dear Clara," said Dorotliea, Usbíiii; her a thontaiid 
times; "jou nrcd not say more; compose yourself till moraios, for 
1 hope to be al)lc to man^ joai aSair so that the conclusion may be 
a:i haiipy as tlie beginning is mnocent." " Ah, siaiiora !" said Dotma 
Clara, what eoncTusioii can he e.ipccted, since nis father is of such 
hh\i rank and fortune that I am not. wortliy to be bis servant, mneh 
less his wife? Aa to marrjitig: without mv father's knowledge, I 
would not do it for aU the voria. I only wish this youi^ man would 
go back, and leave me : absence, perlraps, may lessen the pain 1 now 
feel ; though I fear it will not have much elTect. What a strange 
sorcery this love is ! I know not how it come to possess me, so 
young as I am — in truth, I believe we are both of the same a^, and 
I am uot yet lixteeo, nor ^all I be, as my fiither savs, until next 
Slicliaclmaa." ]>orothea could not forbear smiling at Doima Clara'a 
childish simplicity ; however, she entreated her again to sleep the 
remainder ot the night, and to hope for everything in the momin','._ 

Profound silence now reigned over the whole hoo^e ; all being 
aslcc¡> except the innkeeper's daughter and her maid Maritornes, who, 
kno*ii^DonQuixote's weak points, determined to amuse themselves 
bv playing him some trick whiie he was keeping guard without doors, 
ITiere was no wimlow on that side of tde home which overlooked the 
field, except a small opening to the straw-loft, where the straw was 
tbroiru out. At this hole the pair of damsels planted themselves, 
wlience they commanded a view of the knight on horseback, leaning 
on his lauce, and could hear him ever and anon heaving sach deeji 
and mournful sighs that they seemed torn from the very bottom of his 
soul. They could also distinguish word^, uttered in a soft, sooth- 
ing, amorous lone -, such as " O my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso ! per- 
fection of all beauty, quintessence of diicretion, treasury of wit, and 
pledge of modesty f what may now be thy sweet employment f Art 
thoii, peradventure, tbiiJdng of thy captive knight, wlio voluntarily 
exposes himself to so many perils for thy sake 1 O thou triformed 
luminary, bring me swift tidings of her ! Perhaps thou art now gaKiog 
at her, envióos of her beauty, aa she walks through some gallery of 
her sumptuous palace, or leans over some balcony, considering now 
she may without offence to her virtue or dignity assuage the torment 
. vhich this poor afflicted heart of mine endures ft»- her ! or meditating 
on «hat glory she shall bestow oa wf ■offerings, what solace to my 
cares, or reoompense to aa long servraesl And thon, O sun '. who 
must now be preparing to naaeu thy rteeds, to come forth and visit 
my adorable lad;', salide her, I entreat thee, in my name : but beware 
thou dost not kiss her face, for I shall bo more ]ealoas of thee than 
thou wert of that swift ingrata who made thee sweAt and mn over 
the phuaa of Thessaly, or along the hanks of Peneus—I do not 
exactly remember over which it wis thon rann'st so jealous and so 

llin) far Q 

innkeeper's du-„ ^ , _,._„. ,— , 

little this way." Don Quixote tamed his head, and perceiving by the 
light of the moon, woich then ahooe bright, that some penon 
beckoned him towards the spike-hole, which to his fancy was a 
window witltthided bars, suitable to the rii^ castle be oonreived the 
inn to be, and his fbnner viiiona again recurring, he oondodedthat 
the itii ¿uuBel of the castle, irresistibly eaanwured of him, had now 

TBB xsieHT n 1. HoosE. 9S3 

oome to r^>e>t ber tíiU. UnwillmK, therefore, to appear disconr- 
teaaa or unerateful, be ^protched ttie nperture, aad replied, " I 
lament, fair ladf, that jou should lave placed your ofFections irhere 
it ¡a impossibb tot you to meet with tliat return whieli your p^ 
merit and beauty deserve ; yet ought you not to blame aii uii fortúnate 
kui^ht irhom love has already enthralled. Pardon nie, dtar lady; 
retire, and do not by any fartiier disclosure of your seiitiments make 
me appear yet more nngrateful' but if I can repay vou by any other 
way thaa a return of passion, I entreat that you will commnnd me, 
«nil I awear, by tbat sweet absent enemy of mine, to frratify yon 
immediately, though you should require a lock of Medusa's hair, 
uliich was composed of snakes, or the sunbeams enclosed in a vial," 
" Sir," quoth Maritornes, " my kdy wants none of these." " What 
tlien dotii your lady require, discreet duenna?" answered Don 
Quixote. Only one of your beaotiful hands," quoth Maritornes, 
whereby partly to satisfy that lon^? which brought ber to this 
window, so much to the peril of her honour, that if her lord and 
father should know of it he would whip oS at least one of ber ears." 
"Let him dare to do it!" cried Don Quixote; "fatal should he his 
punishment for presuming to lay violent hands on the dt-Iicate 
membeiB of an enamoorcd dauphter." Maritornes, not donbting but 
thftt he would grant the request, hastened down into the stable, and 
brought back tke halter belonging to Sanobo's dapple, just as Don. 
Quixote bad got upcm Kodnante's saddle to reaoh the gilded window , 
at whioh the enamoured damsel stood; and giving her his baud, ho 
said: "Accept, madam, this hand, or rather thia sconrge of the 
wicked : accept, I say, this hand, which that of woman never before 
toociied, out even hen who has the entire right of my whole person. 
I offer it not to be kissed, but that you may behold the contexture of 
ila nerves, the firm knitting of its muscle», the largeness and spacious 
no»! of its veins, wbeoce you may infer what must be the strength of 
that arm which oelongs to such a hand." " We shall soon see that," 

Suotli Maritornes. Then, makinf^ a mnning-knot in the baiter, sue 
led it on bis wriat, and tied the other end of it fast to the staple of 
the hay-loft door. Don Quixote, feeling the harsh lope about his 
wrist, said, " You seem r^her to ras^ than grasp my hand— pray do 
iiot treat it so ntogjil]', since tbat it is not to blame for my adverse 
inclination: nor is it jait to vent your displeasure thtis; indeed, this 
kisd of revenge is very unworthy of a lover." But his eipostu I aliens 
« unbeari ; for as soon as Maritornes bad tied the knot, the; both 

went laughing away, having fastened it in such a manner tbat it w 
imrnssible for him to get loose. 
Thos he rcDoaüied standing upright on Soúnante, his hand close tc 

the hole, fud tied by the wrist to the holt of the door; and ir. _, 
utmost alarm lest Bozinante should move on either aide, and leave 
him suspended. He durst not, therefore, make the least motion : 
titough indeed he might well have expected, from the sobriety and 
pati^ce of Rozinante, that he would remain in that position an 
entire ceuttiry. In short, Don ^lixote, finding himself thos situated 
and the ladies gone, oonoluded that it was an affair of enchantment, 
like othen which hiad formerly happened to him in the same cestle. 
He then cursed his own iudiseretion for having entered it a second 
lime: súice hemight haveleamt from bis chivai^ that when a knight 
was wtsuccessful in an advratore, it wai a sign that its accomplish- 

,, .A.OOgIC 

S34 lOH quiTOTB. 

ment WB3 reserred for anoUicr, and that Kcond triak wera ^wayg 
fruitlcsB, He made man; attemiitE to lelease hiiDKÍf. tluni^ he was 
afraid of making any great esertioii lesa Koiinante should stir ; but 
his efforts were all is vain, and he was compelled either to remain 
standiog on the saddle or to (ear off hia hand. Now he wished for 
¿madia's svord, against which no enchanttnent had power, and now 
he euraed hia fortune. Sometimes he expatiated on the loss the world 
wonld sustain during the period of his enchantment; other moments 
«ere devoted to liia beloved Dulcinea dd Toboso ; and some to his 
Rood scinirc Sancho Panza^ who, stretched on his ass's p«inel and 
buried in sleep, was dreanimii of no auch misfortune ; nor did he fail 
to invoke the aid of the sages Lii^ndeo and Alqnifc, and call upon 
bis special friend Urganda. Thus tne moniing found him, like a bull, 
roaring with despair ; for he eipected no relief with the dawn, fear- 
ine hia enchantment was eternal; and he was the more induced to 
believe it as Rozinante made not the least motion, and he verilf 
thought himself and his borse must remain in the same posture, 
without eating, drintins, or aleeping, until the evil influence of the 
atars bad pas^ over, or some more powerful sage should disenchant 

But he was mistaken ; for it was scarcely daylight, when four men 
on horseback stopped at the inUj well wipointed and accoutred, with 
carbinea hanging on their aaddle-bows. Not finding the inn -door open, 
they called aloud and knocked very hard ; upon which Don Quiiote 
called out from the place where he stood aentucl, in an arroi^ant and 
loud voice, " Knighis, or spires, or whoever ye are, desist from 
knocking ¿t the gate of this castle ; for at tliis early hour its inmates 
are doubtless sleeping ; at least they are not accustomed to open the 
gates of their fortrcas until the sun has spread hfs beams over the 
whole horizon ; retire until brighter daviight shall inform us whether 
it be proper t<i admit you or not." " What the devil of «fortreas or 
oastle is this," quoth one of them, " that we are obliged to observe 
all this ceremony P If you are the innkeeper, make somebody open 
the door, for we are travellers, and only want to bait our horses, and 
go on, as we are in haste." " What say ye, sirs — do I look like an 
innkeeper? " aaid Don Qubtote, " I know not what you look like," 
answered the other ; " but I am sure yon talk preposterously to call 
this inn a castle." " A castle it is, replied Don Quinóte, " and 
one of the best in the whole province ; and at this moment contains 
witbin its walls persons who have bad crowns on their heads and 
sceptres in their hands." " You had better have wúd the reverse," 
qnoth the traveQer ; " the sceptre on the head, and the crown in tie 
hand : but perhaps aome company of strolling players are here, who 
frequently wear such thmga; this is not a place for any other sort of 
crowned heads." " Your ifrnorance must be great, replied Don 
Quixote, " it you know not that such events are very commoa in cbi- 
valiT." The other horseman, impatient at Üie dialogue, repeated 
hb Knocks with so much violence that he roused not only the host 
but all the company in the bouse. 

Jnat at that lime it happened that the horse of one of the travel- 
lers was seized with an indiDatinn to smell at Kozinante, who, sad 


Iciniiaess. But scarcely hod he stirred a step, vhen Don Qitizote'a 
feet slipped from the saddle, and be tEniainea siisiiended bj the arm, 
in so inuch torture tbst he fancied liis wrist or liis arm was tearing 
from his body ; Bbd he hung so near the ftround tlist he conM ¡ast 
Teaoh it with the tips <A bis toes, whioh oulj' made his sitnation the 
worse ; for fccliuK how nesr be was to the groand, he otrctehed and 
BtTaiued with all his might to reach it; liie those who are torloced 
iy the straopado, and who, being placed in the same dilemma, 
««{grsTBte tlieir sufferings by their fruitless efforts to stretcn 


A BQHtiiutatiiyit of thi atraordt'tiary adcextura &at Happentd ts 
At in». 

ExERTiNO his Innsf to the utmost, Don Qui^iote roared so londly 
that tbe boat opened the imi-door, >it great alarm, to discover tiie 
canse of the ontcry. Maritornes, being awakened dj the noise, and 
pueasing the caJise, went to tlie straw-loft and privately untied the 
baiter which held np Bon Quixote, wh<i immeuiatelf came to the 
ground. Without answering a word to the many inauiries that were 
made tfl him by the itmkceijer and travellers, he sli|>ped the rope 
from off his wnst, and sprin^ng from the earth, mounted Rozimmte, 
braced his target, cnucbed his lance, and taking a good compass about 
Üie field, came up at a halt gallop, saying, " Whoever sh¿l dare to 
affirm that I was fiurlj etichantcd, I say he lies; and provided my 
sovereign lady, the princess Mioomicona, gives me leave, 1 challenge 
him to single combat." The nev comers were amazed at Don 
Quixote's words, till the innkeeper eiplaiued the wonder, by tellmg 
them that be was disordered in Ms senses. They then iuiiúired of 
tbe host whether there was not in the house a yonth about fifteen 
years old, bahited like a muleteer — in short, descnbisg Donna Clara's 
lover. The Lost said that there were so many people in tbe inn, that 
he had not observed snch a person as they described. But one of 
them just then seeing tbe judge's coach, said, " He most certainlv 
be here, for there is the coach which he is said to have followed. 
Let one of os remain here, and tbe rest go in search for t''"' ; and it 
Tcmld not be amiss for one of ns to ride round the bonse, in case 
be ihouid attempt to escape over the pales of the yard." All this 
they immediately did. much to tbe innkeeper's surprise, who ooold not 
^esB the meaning of so much activity. 

It was DOW full daylight, and most of tbe company in the house 
were rising ; among the first, were Donna Clara and Dorothea, who 
had slept but indifferently ; the one from concern at bemi; so near her 
bver. and the other from a desire of seeinx him, Don Qai:col«, find- 
ing tint the four travellers regarded neither him nor his challenge, 
was farions with rage ; and. could he have found a precedent among 
the ordinances of chivalrr for engajrii^ in a new adventure artor he 
had pledged his word to forbear untd the first had been accomplished. 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

SW imh qittxotb. 

be mold now hare fiercilf attacked them all and compelled them fo 
Teplf: but reflecting that he waa hound in lionour first t« reinstate 
Ihe princesa on her throne, he endeiTimred to tranquUlize himself. 
In the mean time the men pnrsued their search after the youth, and 
and at last fonnd him peaeeablf sleeping hv (he side of a muleteer. 
One of them pulling hun by the arm, said. Upon my word. Signer 
Don Louis, your dresa ia very becomin,[; a irentieman like you, and 
the bed you lie on is very suitahic to the l«iidemcss icitli which your 
mother brought you up !" The youth was rousedfrom hia slce¡i, and 
looking earnestly at the man who held him, he soon recollected him 
to be one of his father's servants, and was so coniouuded that he 
conid not say a word. " Sijmor Don Louis," continued the servant, 
" you must instantly retnm home, unless you would cause the death, 
of my lord your father, he is in such grief at your absence." " Why, 
how did my fother know," said Don Louis. " that I came thb roao, 
and in this dress?" "He was informed by a student, to whom 

Su mentioned your project, and who was induced to disclose it 
•m compassion at your father's distress. There are four of us 
here at your serviw. and we shall be rejoiced to restore you to your 
family." " That will be as I shall please, or as Heaven may orilain," 
answered Don Louis. " What, si^or, should you please to ¿o, 
but return home?" KJolned the servant: "indeed, yon cannot da 

The muleleer who had been Don Louis's companion hearing this 
contest^ went to acquaint Don Fernando and the rest of Itie cooipnay 
with whet was passing: telling them that the man bad called the 
younff Wl, Don, and wanted him to rctom to his father's house, but 
that he refused to go. They all recoUcetrd his fine voice, and bein^ 
eazer to know who he was, and to assist him if any violence were 
ofl'ered to him, they repaired to the place where he was contendinsf 
with his servant. Dorothea now came out of her chamber, with 
Sonna Clara: and, calling Cardenio aside, she related to turn in a few 
words the liistory of the musician Hod Donna Clara. He then told 
her of tlie search that had been made after the young man bv the 
aervants. and altboug;h he whispered, he was overheard by Donna 
Clara, who vaa thrown into such an asnny by the intelligence, that 
she would have fallen to the ground if Dorothea had not supported 
her. Caidenio advised her to retire with Donna Clara, while he 
endeavoured to make some arrangements in their behalf. Don Louis 
was now surrounded by all the four servants, entreating that he would 
immediately return to comfort his father, lie answered that he could 
not possibly do so until hehad accomphshed that ou which his life, his 
boaoar, and his soul depended. The servants still urged him, sayinz 
that they would ccrtainlynotso back without him. and that they must 
compel him t« return if be refused. " That you sliali not do," replied 
Don Louis ; " as least you shall not take me living." This contest 
had now drawn together most of the people in the house, Don Fer- 
nando, Cardenio, the judge, the priest, the barber ; and even Don 
Quixote had quitted bis post of castle-tmard. Cardenio, alreadv 
Iniowing the young man's story, asked the men why they vrovli 
take away the youth agunst his will F " To save his father's life," 
te^ed one of them ; which is in danger from distress of mbd." 
" There ia no occasion to give an account of my affairs here," siud 
DooLouia; "I am free, ¿d will go back if I please; otherwiae, 



none of yira shall force me." " Bnt reuon wil! pre rail witli jou," 
answered the servant ; " and if not, we must do our duly." " Hold ! " 
said tbe jud^e ; " let ua Jtnov tl)e nhole of tliii a£iir " Tin man 
(wlio retMllccted liini) answered, " Doe* not your worship know this 
eentleniBD f He is your neijckbDur'a son, aiid has absented liimself 
from his father's house, in a earb very unbecominB his quality, as your 
worship may see.'' The juase, after looking at bim witli Hilrntion, 
recognised him, and accosted him in a friendly manner : " Vihat 
childish frolic is this, Signor DonLonis," said be, "or what powerful 
motive has ¡odiiced yon to disguise yourself in a manner so unbecom- 
ing your rnnki"' The eyes of the youth were filled witli tears, and 
he could Dot say a word. The judxe desired the servants to be quiet, 
promisiug that all sbouJd be well; and, taking Don Louis by the 
hand, he led bim aside and questioned him. 

In the mean time a great uproar vras heard at the inn^door, 
vllich was occasioned by tvro gnesta wbo had lod;^ there (hat ni^t, 
and who. seeinz evcrj'body engaged, bad attempted to ^ off without 

Kying ibeir recKoninjc : but the host, beinc more attentive to his own 
siness than to that of other people, laid hold of them as they were 
Koing out of the door, and demanded his money : giving them such 
hard words for their evil iutcntion, tiiat they were provoked to return 
him an answer with their fists, and so much to the purpose that the 
poor innkeeper was forced to cali for help. The uostess and hei 
daughter seeing none more proper to give him succour than Don 
Qoi^iotc, applied to hJm ; " Sir Kokht," súd the daughter, " I 
beseech you, by the valour which Goa baa nven you, to come and 
hein my poor father, whom a couple of wicked fellows are beating 
without mercy." Don Quiiote, very leisurely and with much phlegm, 
replied, " i'air maiden, your petition cannot be granted at present, 
because I am incaoncitnted from eneaging in aivy other adVenture 
until Ihavc accomplished one for which my word is already plighted; 
all that I can do in vour service is to advise yon to go and desire your 
father to maintain the fidit as well as he con, and by no means allow 
himself to be vanquished ; in the mean time 1 will request permissioii 
of the princess Micomicona to relieve him in his distress, which, if 
she grants me, rest assured I will forthwith deliver hijn." '' As I am 
a sinner," quoth Maritornes, who was present, " before your worsliip 
can do all that, my master may be gone into the otlier world. 
" Suffer me, madam, to obtain that permisaton," answered Don 
Qniiote ; " and if I procure it, it matters not though he be in the 
other world ; for thence would 1 liberate him, in spite of the other 
world itself: or at least I will take such ample revenge on those who 
sent him thither, that you shall be entirely satisfied. Then, without 
saving another word, he approached Dorothea, and thratrin^r himself 
on his knees before her, in chivalrous terms he entreated that her 
grandeur would vouchsafe to give him leave to anccour the governor 
of the caatle, who was in pricvous distress. The princess very gra- 
ciously consented ; when, bracing on his target and drawing liia 
sword, be proceeded to the inn-door, where the two guests were still 
maltreating the poor host; but before he came there, he suddenly 
stopped short and stood irresolute, though Muritomes and the host«M 
■aked him why he debyed helping their master, " 1 delay," said 
Don Quixote, "because it is not lawful for me to draw my sword 
against plebeians ; but call hither my sqoire, Sancho Paoia, for t» 

238 DON QimoTB. 

him doth thb matter more properly belong." In the mean t^e 
the conúict at the door of the inn ronlinued mtbout intermission, 
Ter; much to the disadvant^ of tbe innkeeper, end the n^ of 
Maritornes, the hostess, and her daughter, irho were ready to ran 
distracted to see the cowardice of Don Quixote, and the injary dona 
to their lord and omster. 

But here we must leave him ; for aomcbody will no doubt come te 
his relief ; if not, let him suffer for being so fool-hardv as to eng»*? i* 
such an unequal contest : and let us remove some tlty paces aS, to 
bear what Don Louis replied to the judge, whom we left questíouiug 
him aa to the cause of his traTclling on foot so meanly apparelled. 
The youth clasping his hands, as if some great affliction wrung his 
heart, and sheading tears in abundance, sajd in answer : " I etm only 
Bay, dear sir, that from tho moment heaven was pleased by means of 
our vicinity to give me a sight of Donna Clanij your daughter, she 
becanie sovereign mistress of my aifectious ; and if you. my true lord aiMl 

— .- . „ it (TO- , . , 

passion than what she mij" have perceived by ocessionally seeiap, at 
a distance, my eyes full ot tenderness and teiu^. Yon know, my lord, 
the weallo and rank of my family, of whom I am the sole heir ; if 
these circumstances can plead in my favour, receive me immediately 
for yonr son ; for Ihouifh my father, iufloenced by other views of faia 
own, should not approve my choice, time may reconcile him to it." 
Here the enamoured youth was silent, and the judge remained insQS- 
pense: no less snrprised by the ingenious confession of Don Loui» 
than perpleied how to act in the affair ; in reply, therefore, he only 
desired him to be calm for the present, and not let his servants return 
that day, that there might be time to consider what was most expe- 
dient to be done. Don Louis kissed bis hands with vehemence, 
bathing them with tears, that miiht have softeccd a heart of marblei, 
much more that of tbe jadge, who, beine a man. of sense, was aware 
how advant^eons this match wonid be for his danghter. Neverthe- 
less, be would rather, if possible, that it should take place with the 
consent of Don Louia'i father, who he knew bad pretensions to a title 
for his son. 

By this time the innkeeper bbA his giiesls bad made peace, more 
through the persuasions and ar;!:nment3 of Don Quixote than his 
threats; and the reckoning was |«id, Asdnow tbedevil, who never 
sleeps, BO ordered it that at this time the very barber entered the inn 
who hod been deprived of Munbnno's helmet by Don Quixote^ and 
of the trappings of his au by Sancho Pama ; and as he was leading 
his beast to the atable he espied Sancho Panxa, who at that moment 
was repLuring something about the self-same pannel. He instantly 
fell upon him with fury ; "Ah, thief!" swd he, "have I got you t¿ 
last ! — give me my basin and my panneL with all the furniture yon 
stole from me!" Sancho fiodioghiniself thus snddenty attacked and 
abnsed, secured the pannel with one hand, and with the other made 
the barber such a return that his mouth was bathed in blood. Never- 
theless, the barber would not let go his hold ^ but caised bis voice so 
high Ihat he drew everybody aroand him. while be called out, "Jus- 
tice, in ihe king's name I Thisrogue and highway-robber here would 
murder me for endeavoaiing to recover my own goods." " You lie !" 



answered Sanclio, "I am no h^hva^-robber ^ mj muter, Don 
Quixote, voa these sp<»ls in fail war." Don Quixote vaa now pre- 
sent ana not a little pleased to see how well his squire acted both on 
the offensive and d^ensire ; and TegardinK him thenceforward as a 
nan r£ mettle, he reaolved in his mind to dub him a knight the Qrst 
opportunity that offered, thinking the order of chiyalry would bo well 
bestowed upon him. 

Duriutf this contest the barber made many protestations. " Gentle- 
men," said he, " thÍ3 pannel is as certainly mine as the death I owe to 
God : 1 know it &3 well as if it w?re made hj myself; and yonder 
stanos my ass in the stable, who will not suffer me to he— praj do 
but try it, and if it does not fit him to a hair, let mo be infamous : 
and moreover, the very day they took tiiis from me, they robbed me 
like«\ise of a new brass basin, never hanselled, that cost me a crown." 
Hera Don Quixote could not forbear intcrnosmg ; and separating the 
two combatants, he made them kv down the pound on the ground to 
public view^ until the truth should be decided. " The error of thia 
bcmest squire," eaid he, "is manifest, in calling that a basin which 
was, is, and ever shall be, jtambrino's helmet— that helmet which I 
won in fair war, and am therefore its right and lawful possessor. 
M'ith regard to the pannel, I decline any interference ; all I can say 
is, that my squire, Sancho, asked my permission to take the trappin;;;» 
belongÍDS to the horse of this conquered coward, to adorn his own 
withal. 1 gave him leave— he took them, and if from horse-trappings 
they are metamorphosed into an ass's pannel, I haye no other reasons 
to give than that these transformations are frequent in affidrs of 
chivalry. InconSnnalionof what I say, go, Sancho, and bring hither 
the helmet which this honest man terms a basin," " In faith, sir," 
quoth Sancho, " if we have no better proof than that your worship 
speaks of, Mambrjno's helmet will prove as errant a basin as the 
hcaiest man's trappings we a pack-saddle." " Do what I commaniL" 
rephed Don Quixote ; "for surely all things in this castle cannot be 
p)verued by eucliantment." Sancho went for the baam, and return- 
ing wilJi it, he gave it to Don Quixote. " Only behold, aentlemen 1" 
said he, " how can this squire h ' * e to declare that this is a 
Irasin, and not the helmet whic scribed to you F By the 

order of knii;hthaod which I pn ar that this very helmet ia 

the same which I took from h addition or dijninution." 

"There is no doubt of that." < lo, "for from the time my 

master won it, until now, ho has one battle in it, which was 

when he freed those unlucky gi ; and had it not been for 

that same basin-helmet he won j got off so well from the 

^wecs of atones which rained upon him in uiat skirmish. 

iiaub, Google 


DouQ _, . .,,_ 

him, if he be a kni.!;lit, tliat )ie Ues ; and if s »quire, that he lies and 
lies again, a thousand times." Our barber. Master Nicholn^ who vas 
present, wiahiuE to carry an the jest for the amiuemenD of the com- 
pany, addressed himself to the otuer barber, and aaid ; — " Sí^or bar- 
ter, or whoever you are, know that I also am of your profession, and 
have had my certifícale of examination above these twenty years, ard 
am well ociiuainteil with all the instruments of barber-siu^rr, with- 
out exception. I have likewise been ■ Boldier in my youth, and there- 
fore know wliat a helmet is, and what a morion or cap of steel is^ as 
well 03 a caa(¡ue with its beaver, and other matters relntinf; tosoldicrr 
— r mean to the arms commonly used hv aoldiera. And I aay, with 
submission always to better iudfriiienta, that the piece before us, which 
tliat frenlleman holds in bis hani;^ not onlv is not a barber's basin, but 
~ u far from being- so as white ¡a from black, and truth from faUe- 

Sriest, who perceived his friend the barber's desíen ; and Cardenio, 
Ion Femando, and his compnnions, all confirmed the same ; even tiie 
judge, Inidnot his thougbtn been engjotsed by the affair of Don. Louis, 

wiiiild have taken some share in tlic jest - but in the perplexed stiua 
of his mind be could attend but little to these pleasantries. 

" Mercy on me ! " quoth the astonished barber, " how is it possible 
that so many bonourable^entlemen should maintain that this is not 
a basin, but a helmet ! Ttiis would be enongh to astonish a «h<^ 
university, be it ever so wise. Well, if the basin be a helmet, then 
the pannci must needs be a horse's furniture, as the «rentleman has 

iwd," " To me, indeed, it seems to be a panne 

■' but I have already told vou 1 will not bter 
" Whetlier it be the paunel of an ass, or the i 
said tlic priest, "must be left to tliedeciaionof 
for in matters of chivalry, all these Kcntlemea 
his judgment," " By ail that is holy [ gentlemi 
" such extraordiiiary thin^ have befallen me in 
not vouch for the certainty of anytliing that 
verily believe tliat all is couductea by the po 
During my first visit, J was tornnentca by an e 
Sancho fared no hctler among some of his folio 
have been suspenntd for iip:triy two hours by n 
ing either the means or thecauscof my persecu 
in me, therefore, to give my opiidon in an affair 

,:,: .,.,1, Google 


As to tbfl qiieation whether this beabsainorahelmet, Ihave already 
answered ; but with regard to tlic pannel, gentlemen, not daring my- 
self to pronoimee a dennitiTe sentence, I refer it to jour wisdom to 
decide, Perliaps, as jou are not Imights-errant, the enchantments erf 
this place majr not have the same ^wer over yon ¡ and, your under- 
etandings remaining free, yon may judge of things as they r^alli are, 
and not as they appear to me," There is no doubt," answered Don 
Fernando, " but that Signor Bon Quixote is right in leaving tho 
decision of Ibis case to us ; and that ire ma; proceed in it apon solid 
guilds, I will take the votes of these gentlemen in secret, and then 
give you a clear and fall acconnt of the result." 

To those acquainted with Don Quixote, all this was choice enter- 
tainment ; white to others it seemed the height of folly, among whom 
were Don Ijonis, his serrants, and three other giiests, troopers of the 
fcoly brolhwhooa, who just then arrived at the inn. As for the bar- 
ber, he was quite raving to see his basin converted into Mambrino's 
helmet before his e^es, and be made no doubt but his pannel would 
Undergo a like transformation. It was diverting to see Don Fernando 
walking round and taking the opinion of each person at his ear, 
whether that pwdoua object of contention was a paimel or caparison ; 
and after ho had taken the votes of all those who knew Don Quixote, 
he said aloud to the barber, " In truth, honest friend, 1 am weary of 
eoUeoting vot«s ; for I propose the qiiÑtion ti) nobody who does not 
my in reply, that it is quite ndicoloos to assert that this is an ass's 
panne], arid not die c^arison of a horse, and even of a well-bred 
none ; and as yoa have grven us no proofs to the contrary, you must 
have patience imd submit for in spite of both vou and your ass, this is 
DD panneL" " Let me never ei^ioy a place in neaven ! exclaimed the 
bwber, "if your worships are not all mistaken; and so may my soul 
qipear in heaven as this appears to me a pannel, and not a compari- 
son: but so go the laws:— 1 say no more; and verily I am not 
drunk, for I am as yet fasting from everything; but sin." 

The barber's simplicity oaoaed no less merriment than thevaitaries 
of the knight, wbo now said, "As sentence ¡s passed, let each take his 
own^ andhim towhomGodgivetb, may St, Peter bless," One of Don 
IjOuib's four servants now iiitorposed. How is it possible," said he, 
"that men of common understanding sfaoutd say that this is not a bssiu 
nor that a pannel ? £ut since you do actually affirm it, I suspect that 
there must be some mystery in obstinately maintaining a thing so con- 
t»ry to the plain truth : for by— (and out herappcd a round oath) all 
the votes in tbe world shall never persuade me that this is not a bar- 
ber's basin and that a jackass's pannel." "May it not be that of a 
she Bsa?" quoth the priest. That is all one," said the servant; 
" the question is only whether it be or be not a pannel." One of the 
ofioera of the holy brotherhood, who bad overheard the dispute, cried 
out, full of indignation, " It is as surely a pannel as my father is my 
fawer i and whoever says, or shall say, to the contrary, must be 
drmA, " You lie, like a pitiful scoundrel ! " answered Don Qnixotó ; 
and iiitina up bis lance, wbich was still in his hand, he aimed suoh a 
Uow at the trooper, that bad he not slipped aside he would have been 
tevdled to the ground. The lance came down with such fury that it 
was shivered to pieces. "Help! help the holy brotherhood!" cried 
oat the other officers. The innkeeper, being himself one of that body, 
ran instantly for his wand and sword, to support 'his comrades. Don 
» „,,.A.OOglC 

SIS non qtnxoTE. 

' Louis'sseirantssnrroaDdcdthrir master, lest he should escape daríns 
tlie confusion, 'ibe barber iiorreivin" the house tnnied lopay-tnrvy, 
laid iiold (iftuiii of his paniiel, and Sanclio did the same. Don Quiíoie 
drew his sword, and fell upon tlie troopers ; and Don Lonis called nut 
to his seiTunts to leave bim, that they mifflit nssist Don Quinóte, Cnr- 
dcnio, and Don Fernando, wlio both took part with the Imiaiit. Tlio 
priest uried out, Uie hostess shrieked, her dauiiUter wept, Maritornes 
roared, Dorothea was alanned, Lucinda stool amazed, and Donna 
Clara fainted away. The barber cnOed Sancho, and Saneho pum- 
melled the barber. Don Louis gaveoneof hi» servants, who hacEpm- 
snmcd to hold him by the arm lest be should escape, such a blow with 
his fist that his moutii vraa bathed in btood ; wbicli caused the judge 
to interpose in bis defence. Don Temando got one of the tniopere 
down, and Uid on his blows most unmercifully i while the ¡oiüiceper 
bawled aloud for help to tbe holy bKllkerhood; thus was the whole 
inn filled wilb cries, wailiogs, and shrieks, dismav, confusion, and ter- 
ror, kicks, cudgcUin;», and elTusion of blood, la the mid^ of tbis 
chaos and Larly-burty Doa Quixote suddenly coacciTcd that be waa 
involved over head and cars m the discord of kine Agramaute's camp, 
and he called out in a voice which made the wbole inn shake, " Mot^ 
all of joii ! Put up your swords ; be paeiñed, and hsten all to me, if 
je would live ! " His vehemence made them desist, and he went on 
saying : " Did I not (ell you, sirs, that this castle was enchanted, and 
that some le^oa of devils must inhabit it? Behold (he couArmatioa 
of what I said ! Mark with your own eye» how tbe discord of Agra- 
mantc's camp is transferred hither amooitst us !— there they fight for 
the sword, here for (be horse, yonder for the ea^cle, here atñin for tbe 
helmet : we all fi:;ht, and no one understands another. Let, then, nqr 
lord judfre and hia reverence the priest come forward, the one as king 
AEcramante, the otlier as king Sobrino, and restore us to peace ; for by 
tbe powers divine it were most disgraceful and iniquitous that so 
many grntlemen of our rank should slay each other for such trivial 
matters." I'he troopers not uuderstandmg Don Quixote's lan^age, 
and finding themselves still roug-hly handled by Dun Fernando, Cár- 
denlo, and their companions, would not be pacified; but the barber 
submitted : lor both his beard and his pannel were demolished in the 
scuflle ; and &incho, hke a dutiful servant, obeyed the least word of 
his master. Don Louis's four servants were also quiet, seeing how 
unprofilable it was to iuterfere. The innkeeper, still refractory, 
insisted that (he insotcuceof that madman ought to be chastised, who 
was continually tuminL; his house upside down. At length the tumnit 
subsided ; Ihc panne! was to remain a caparison, and the basin a M- 
met, and the inn a caslle, at least in Don Quixote's imaginaliok, 
until tbe day of jndgnient. 

Amity and peace being now restored by the interposition of tba 
judge aud the priest, the servants of Don Louts renewed tlieir aoS- 
citations for Ins return. I'he judge having in the meantime informed 
Don Fernando, Cárdenlo, and tbe priest, of what had passed between 
himself and the young man, he consuUca with them on the afTair, and 
it was finally agreed that Don Fernando shnnld make himself known 
to Don Louis's servants, and inform them that it was his desire that 
the young gentleman should accompany him to Andalusia, where he 
would be treated by the marquis hi» brother in a manner suitable to 
his quality i for lii» determination was at all events not to retara jost 

,, ..A.OOgIC 

issT inz KNiGur. 213 

ftt that ticrkc ¡atn his fatlier's presence. Tlie servants bein; appri.'ied 
of ifoo l'erBandú's rank, and iindinK Bon Louis resolute, u'jrced 
ainoD<; Iticmselves tliat (luree of tliem should return to give his fntlicr 
account of what bad passed, and that tlic otiier should stay to atteud 
Don liouis, and not leave liini untU he knew his lord's pirasitre. 
Tlius was tills complicated tumult appeased by the authority of Agra- 
mante and the prudence of Sobrino. 

But tlie enemy of peace and concord finding: lumsejf foiled and 
disappointed in the scnnty produce of so promising a field, resolved to 
try bis fortune once more, by eontñving neiv fmys and disturbances. 
The uliiccrs of t}ie holy brotherhood, on hearing the qnality of tlieii 
opponents, retreated from tlie fray, thinkinj tliat «halever migbt be 
the issue they were likely to be losers. But one o£ tliis body, who 
had been severely handled by Don Femando, happened to rei^oUeot 
tliBt among other wanant« in bis possession he hud one against Don 
Quixote, whom his superiors had ordi:red to be token intn custody 

aoee. "As God shall "save mc!" exclaimed Sancbo, "what m^ 
toaster says is true about tiic enchantments of this castle ; far it ¡a 
únpossible to live an hour quietly in it." Don Fernando at bng:th 
parted the olReer and Don Quiíoté ; and, to the aatisfactioa of both, 
Viloeked their hands from the doublet- collar of the one and from 
the wind'pipe of the other. Nevertheless, tlie troopers persisted in 
cLuminit tlieir prisoner ; declaring that the king's service and tliat of 
the holy brothethood required it-, and in whose name tbey aanin 
demanded help and a.s3Ístánce in apprehending that common robber 
ud higtivay thief. Con Quixote smiled at these expressioDS, and 
with great caltaness said, " Cume bithcr, base and ill-bom crev : call 
HI. ii «ililiiini nn the liignway to loosen the chaias of tlie captive, to 
' ' - -; the fallen, and 
I undeserving 

*' ' , , . A.OOglc 


by tlie meanness and baseness of your nnderslandings, thflt heareo 
should reveal to you tlie wortli inherent in knight-errantrj-, or xüsíb 
you sensible of yonr own sin and ignorance in not reverini the sha- 
dow much more the presence of anjf knight-errant! Teil me, ye 
rogues in a troop ! not troopers, but higtwaj marauders under licence 
of the holy hrollierliood— tell me, who was the blockhead that signed 
the warrant for apprehending auch a knight as 1 am ? Ti'lio was he 
who knew not that K nights-errant are eierapt from all judicial autho- 
rily ; that their sword is their law, valour their privilege, and their 
own will their edicts ? Who was the madman- I say agwn, who 
knew not that there is no patent of gentility whicn contains so many 
privileges and exemptions as are required by the knight-errant on 
we day he devotes himself to the rigorous eiterciseof chivalry ? 'HTiat 
knight-errant cvit caid custom, polU-tai, subsidy, quit-rent, porterage, 
or ferry-boat P What tailor ever brought in a bill for making his 
clothes P What governor that lodsed liim in hia castle ever made 
him pay for his entertainment ? Wliat king did not seat him at hia 
table ? What damsci was not enamoured of him, and did not jiield 
herself up entirely to his will and pleasure? Finally, what knight- 
errant ever did, or shall exist, who lias not courage, with his single 
arm, to bestow a hundred bastinadoes on any four hundred troopers 
of the holy brotherhood who shall dare to oppose him ?" 


T* Khiei itfiniihtd lie notaUt advintwe (¡f Iht ¡uÁy brolherhood: itiUt 
an acanint of Üit feroeuy of ov,r good knight Don Qaizott. 

Thus eloquently did Don Quiiotp harangue the officeiB, -while at 
the same time the priest endeavoured to persuade them that since the 
knight, aa they might easily perceive, was deranged in his mind, it 
was useless for them to proceed farther in t!ie affair ; for if thej- were 
to apprehend him, he would soon be released as insane. But the 
trooper only said in answer that it was not his bosiness to jodge of 
the state of Bon Quixote's intellects, but to ob^ the order of hia 
iuperior; and that when he had once secored him, they might set 
him free as often as they pleased, " Indeed," said the priest, " you 
must forbear this once ; nor do I think that he will suffer himself to 
be taken." In fact, the priest said so mnch, and Don Quixote acted 
BO extraragantly, ttint the oiBcera would have been mora crazy than 
himself had they not desisted after sncb evidence oí his inflrmily, 
Hiey judged it best, (bcrefore, to be quiet, and endeavour to make 
peace between the barber and Sancho Panía, who still continued 
Iheir BRuffle with great rancour. As officers of justice, therefore, they 
compounded the matter, and prononnced such a decision that, if bolt 
partips were- not perfectly oon tented, at least tbey were in some degree 
•atisfied; it being settled that they should exchange panneb, but 
neither girths nor haltera. As for Mambrino's heiiiiet, the piiest, 
unknown to Don Quixote, paid the barber eight reals, for which lie 
received a discharge iu full, acquitting him of all fraud thenceforth 
and for evermore. 



Thns were these important conlists decided : and fortune seemed 
to smile on all Ihc heroes aud lieroines of tbe inn ; even the face of 
Donna Clara betrayed the joj" of her heart, as the servants of Don 
Lonis had acquieseed ia his wishes. Zoraida, allliough she eould not 
understand everythiD^, looked sad or eay in conformity to the 
expressions she observed in their several countenances, especially 
thut of her Spaniard, on whom not only her eves but her soul rested. 
The innkeeper, obserring the recompense tiie priest had made the 
hsrber, claimea also the pajment of his demands upon Don Quixote, 
'iilh ample satisfaction for the dara^ done to his skins, and the loss 
of his wme ; and swure that neither Jtozinante nor the ass should stir 
cut of the inn until he had been paid the uttermost fartlimg. The priest, 
however, endeavoured to soothe him ; and, what was mort Dob 
Fernando settled the knight's account, although the judire would fain 
have taken tlic debt upon himself. Fence was, therefore, entirely 
restored ; and the inn no longer displayed the confusion of Agra- 
inante's camp, as Don Quiiote had called it ; but rather the tiaii- 

Suitlity of the days of Uctavius Ciesar, Tlianks to the mediation and 
Iwiuence of the priest, and the liberality of Don Fenuindo. 
Don Quiiote now finding himself diseogaged, thought it was time 
to pursue his jonmey, and accomplish the grand enterprise for which 
he had been elected. Accordinjn)', he approached the princess, and 
threw himüclf upon his knees before her; but she would not listen to 
him in that posture ; aud, tliereliwe, in obedience to her he arose, 
and thus addressed her: "It is a common adage, fair lady, that 
'diliKCnrif b the mother of success;' and CTpenence coustantly 
verifies us truth. The active solicitor brings the doubtful suit to a 
happy issue ; but this truth is never more obvious t han in military opera- 
tions, where expedition and despatch anticipate the designs of the 
secured before he is prepared for defence. I 
^he3e remarks, most eialted lady, because our 
:cms no longer necessary, and may, indeed, be 
nows but your enemy the gtant may, by secret 
of my approach, and thus gain time to fortily 
gnable fortress, against which my vigilance and 
fatieable arm may be ineffeetu^. Therefore, 
,is designs may be prevented by our dilijience, 
u the name of tbat good-fortune which will be 
>me face to face with j-onr enemy." Here Don 
d with dignified composure awuted the answer 
A, who, with an air of majesty, and in a style 
it of her knight, thus replied : "I am obliged 
the leal you testify in my cause, so woithv of 
Gee and employment it is to succour the orpuan 
Heaven grant that our desires may be soon 
lU may see that all women are not ungrateful, 
it it be instantly i for I have no otiier will but 
e entirely at your pleasure: for she who baa 
« of her person and tha restoration of her 
ands muat not oppose what your wisdom shall 
!" exclaimed Don Quixote, "I will not lose 
Iting a lady who thus humbleth herself. I will 
iKiat of her ancestors. . Let us depart imme- 
ir of m; teal makes me impatient : nor bath 


Heavp.n created nor earth seen 3u¡¡bt of danger tbat can daunt or 
affright me. Sauclio, let Ko^iuantc be saddled ; get ready tbiue owu 
beast, and also her majesty's palfrey; kt us take our leave uf Die 
^veruor of the castle and tbese uoblcs, Ibat we maj set foitli 

Sancho, who had been present all the time, shook his bead, saying, 
"Ab, master of mine ! there are more tricks in the towa than aro 
dreamt of; with all respect bo it s^ken." "What tricks can ihero 
be to ray pr^udice in atiy town or city in (he world, thottbunijikiu?* 
ftaid Don Quiiote. "If vour worship puts yourself iufo a passion," 
answered bancbo, "I nil! hold m; tongue, and not say what I atd 
bouod to say as a faithful s<iuire and a dutituj servant." " Say what 
thou wilt," replied Dou Quixote ; " but tliiult not to intimidate ine : 
for it is Iby nature to be taiut hearted— mine to be proof axainst all 
fear." "As I am a sinner to Heaven," answered Sancho, 1 mean 
notbinz of all this ; I mean only that I am sure and positively certain 
this lady who colls hei-self queen of the great kintcdom of Micomicon 
is no more a queen than my mother ; for if she were so she would not 
be uuizliug at every turn and ¡u every comer with a certain person in 
the company." Porotbea'a colour rose at Sancho'a remark: for it 
was indeed true that her spouse, Don Fernando, now and then bv 
stealth had snatched with his lips an enmest of that reward whicn 
liis affections deserved ; and Sancho, having observed it, thought this 
freedom very uubecomii^ the queen of so vast a kinf:doiu. As 
Dorothea could not contradict Sancho, she remained silent, and 
Buflered him to continue his remaika. " I say this, sir, because sup- 
posing after we have travelled thiongh thick and thin, and paired 
many Dad uights and worse days, one viho is now enjoying him^^elf in 
this inn should chance to reap tlie fruit of our labours, there would 
be no use in my hasteniug to saddle itozinante, or get ready the ass 
and the palfrey ; therefore we had better be quiet. Let every drab 
mind ber snimunp, and let us to dbner." Good heaven ! how preat 
was the indignation of Dqh Quixote on hearing his squire speak in 
terms so disrespectful ! It was so grciit that, with a faltering voice 
and stammering tongue, while living lire darted from bis eyes, he 
cried, " Sconndrol ! umnanueil)', icnorant, iil-spoken, fonl-moulhed, 
in^pudeut. mormuring and bact-biting villain! How darest thoa 
ntter such words in my presence, and in the presence of these illus* 
ttious ladica I How darcst thou to entei-tain audi rude and insolent 
tlioughts in tliy confused imagination ! Avoid my presence, monster 
of nature, treasurvof lies, magazine of deccilp, slorehouse of logucrics, 
inventor of misehiffs, puhlibhcr of absurdities, and foe to all the 
honour due to royalty ! lie^ne !— appear not oefore me on pain of 
my serorcst indiipialion!" And as he spoke he arched his cyelirows, 
swelled bis cheeks, stared around Imn, and gave a violent stamp with 
jiisr^ht foot on the ground; plainly indicating the fury that ra^red 
in his breast. Poor Sancho was so terrified by the storm of pa^siou, 
that he would have hern glad if the eartli bad opened that instant ana 
swallowed him np. He knew not what to say or do ; so he turned 
his back and hastened ont of the presence of bis furious master. 

Jiut the discreet Dorothea, perfectly understanding Duo Quisofe, 
in otiier to pacify his wrath, said, " lie not offeiided, sir knight of the 
■" ' " ...-.- - . jqy¡p,_ fop 

T can it bo 


suspected, comiderini^ his flood sense and Christian conscience, tliat 
he would bear false witncssa^iust anybody; it is possible tliat since, 
OS you affirm yourself, sir knight, the powers of enchnntnient preToJI 
in this castle, S:incho may, by the same diabolical illusion, hare seen 
what be hus atUrmed so much to the prejudice of my honour." " By 
the Omnipotent, I swear," quoth Don Qniiote, "your hislincss baa 
bit the mark I— some evil apparition must have appeared to this 
sinner, and represented to him what it was impossible for him to see 
tay other vay ; fur I am perfectly assured of the simplicity and inno- 
eenee of the unhappy iTretcb, and that be is incapnhle of slandering 
My person iiviug. " So it is, and so it shall be," said Don Fernando : 
"tliererore, Sianor Don Quixote, jou ought to pardon bim and restore 
hxmki jout i&ymiT. ticui eral i.i prineipio before these illusions turned 
his brain." Don Quixote havui; promised his forgiveness, the priest 
vent for Sandio, who came in with mnch humility, and on his kneca 
begged hia master's hand, whioh was given to him : and after he had 
allowed him to kiss it, he gave him his blessing, adding, " Thou wilt 
DOW, Son Sancho, be tnorouglily convinced of what 1 have often toid 
thee, that all things in this castle are conducted bv enchantment." 
"I Delieve so too,"nuolh Sancho, "escept the business of the 
blanket, which renll^ fell out in the ordinary way." "Believe not so," 
answered Don Quixote ; " for in that case I would have revenged 
thee at the time, oud even now : but neitlier could 1 then, nnr can I 
now, find on whom to resent the injury." To gratify the curiosity 
which this remark had excited, the inkeeper cave a very eircum- 
Btantial account ot Saucbo i'anza's excursion in Ine air, which, though 
it entertained (lie rest, would have distressed the feeling of the sijuire, 
if his master had not given bim fresh assurances tliat it was all a 
matter of cncbanlmiint. However, Saiicho's faith was never so atroi^ 
but tliat he shrewdir susiiecled it to be a downright fact, and no 
illusion ot all, that he hiid been tossed in a blanket by persons ot 
flcfh and bl<K>J, and by no visionary plinnloms. 

This illustrious company had now passed two whole days in the 
inn; and thinkins it time to depart, they considered how the priest 
and barber might convey the kuight to his home witlumt trouoling 
Dorothea and Don Fernando to accompany them ; and for that pur- 
pose, having first enzagcil a wageouer who lumpcncd to pass by with 
hia team of oxen, iiiey proceeded in the following manner. They 
formf d a kind oí cage, with poles grate-wise, targe enough to contain 
Don Quixote at his ease; tlion by the direction of the priest, Don 
Fernando and his com jwrniom, with Don Louis's servants, iheolfiecrs 
of the holy brotherhood, imd the iniikeeper, covered their faees, and 
disguised themselves so aa not to be recognised by Don Quixote, 
This done, tiiey aikntl;^ entered the room where the knight lay fast 
asleep, reposing after his late exertions, and secured him with cords ; 
BO that when be awoke, he sturcd about in amaiement at the strange 
Tisaees that surrounded him, but found himself totally unahlo to move. 
His disordered imagination operating as nsnal, immediately siisgcstea 
lo him that these were gobbiis of the enchanted castle, and tliat ho 
wail entangled in its charms, since he felt himself nnable to stir in hia 
own defence,» surmisewhich the curate, who projected the stratagem, 
had anticipated. Sancho alone was in his own proper figure: and 
though he wanted but liitle of being infected with his master's 
inflrmity, yet he was not ignorant who all these counterfeit goblins 

SIS DON «mxon. 

were ; bnt Le thonglit it best to be quiet until he saw what wm tb- 
tended hy tliis seizure and impriwomeiit of hia master. Neither did 
the tnight utter a word, but submissively waited the issno of his mig- 
fortune. Havbg brouglit the cage into the chamber, they plaoed 
him within it, and aceured it so that it was impossible be coulomake 
his escape. In lliia situation he was conveyed ont of the house ; and 
on leaving the eliambcr a voice was heard, as dreadful as the barber 
could form (not heoftliepannel, but the other), saying; "0 liniglitof 
thesorrowful figure! let not thy present eonfinement afflict thee, since 
it is essential to the speedyoccomplishmentof the adventure in which 
thy great valour hath engoj^d thee, which shall be finished when the 
furious Afaiiche^n lion siiall be coupled with the white Toliosinn 
dove^ after having submitted their stately necks to the soft matri- 
monial joke ; from which wonderful coniunction shall spring into tlie 
li^bt of tlie world brave whelps who shall emulate the ravaging claws 
of their valorous sire. And this shall come to pass before the pursuer 
of tlie fugitive nymph shall have made two circuits to visit the brijcht 
constellations, in liis rapid and natural course. And Ihou, O the most 
noble and obedient squire tiiat ever had sword in belt, beard on face, 
and smell in nostrils, be not dismayed nor afflicted to sec the flower 
of knight-errantry carried thus away before thine eyes ; for ere loni^ 
if it so please the great Artificer of the world, tliou shalt see thTselt 
BO exalted and sublimated as not to know thyself; and thus will the 
promises of thy valorous lord be fulfilled. Be assured, moreover, in 
the name of the sage Meutironiana,* that thy wages shall be punctually 
piud thee. i'oUow, therefore, the valorous and enchanted knight, for 
it is expedient for tbeo to go where ye both may find repose. More 
1 am not permitted to say. Heaven protect thee ! 1 now go — I 
well know wliitlier!" As_he delivered this solemn prediction, the 
prophet first raised hb voice high, then giadnally lowered it to so 
patbetioa tone, that even tLose who were in the plot were not 

iis prophecy, quickly compte- 

: for lie saw that it promised 

ly wedlock with his beloved 

d issue the whelps his sons, to 

Upon the strength of this 

sigh, "0 thou, whoemr thon 

udi Ecood, 1 beseech thee to 

ichanlcr who hatli the charge 

lerish in the prison whereiii I 

of joyful and heavenly import 

pass, and 1 shall glory in the 

loins with which I am bound, 

lie a soft bridal bed of down, 

squire, Sancho Fama, I hav« 

I desert me, whatever be my 

ippcn, tbrongh his or my evil 

destiny, that I were nnable to give him the island, or somdihiap 

equivalent, according to my promise, at least he shall not lose his 

Btdary; for in my will, which b already made, I have settled thnt 

pobt ; not, indeed, proportionate to hii many and good services, but 

* A word framed Irom "mantira," alie. 


acoordJng to my own ability." Sancho Panza bowed with great 
respect, and kissed botli his mrutcr's hands ; fot one alone he eould 
not, aa the? were both tied together. The ^blios then took the cage 
on iheii sbouldera, and placeo it' on the waggon. 


"LTABXEDandYerygravo historians of knifhls-emuit hüTelread," 
Sftid Don Quixote, onundinj; himself tijns cooped up and carted ; " but 
1 never read, saw, nor heard of enchanted knights beifia; transported 
in this manner, and so slowly as these hzv, heavy animals seem to 

Jrocecd; for tliey were usually convejed throuffh the air with won- 
erful speed, enveloped in some thick and dork cloud, or Dnsomeliery 
choriotj or mounted upon a hippogriff, or some such aninial. But to 
be earned upon a team drawn by osen — before Heaven, it overwhelms 
me with confusion! Perhaps, however, the encliantinenta of these 
our times may differ from thoee of the anelents ; and it is also possible 
that as 1 am a new knight in the world, and the Srst wlio rerived the 
long'fomitten exercise of knight-errantry, new modes may have been 
invented. What thinkest tbou of this, son Sancho?" "Ido not 
know what to tbink," answered Saocho, " not being so well read as 
your worship in seriptnres-errant ; yet I dare affirm and swear that 
these hobgoblins here about us are not altoKcther catholic." "Catholic 
m^ father!" answered Don Ouiiote: "how eon they be catholic, 
beinz devils who have assumed tan tastic shapes to effect their purpose, 
and throw me into this state ? To convince tftjself of this, try to toDCli 
and feel them, and thou wilt End their bodies have no aubstanoe, but 
are of air, eiisting only to t!ie siiht." " 'Fore Heaven, sir I " replied 
Sancho, " 1 have already touched them ; and this devil, who is so very 
busy here ahout us, is as plump as a partridge, and has another pro- 
perty very different from what your devils are wont to have — for it is 
■aid. they all smell of brimstone, and other had scents t but this sparic 
smells of amber at lialf a league's distance." Sancho spoke ofDon 
Fernando, who, beine: a cavalier of rank, must have been perfumed as 
Sancho described. Wonder not at this, friend Sancho," answered 
D(Hi Quixote, " for thou must know that devils are cunning ; and 
althoudi they may carry perfumes about them, they have no scent 
themselves, being spirits -, or, if they do sroell, it can be of nothing but 
what is ionj and offensive, since wherever they are tbey carry hell 
about them, and have no respite from their torments. Now, perfumes 
being pleasing and delicious, it is quite impossible that tbey should 
have anch an odour ; or if. to thy sense, one smelletb of amber, útber 
thon deceivest thyself, or he would mislead thee, that thou mightest 
itot know li'm for a fiend." 

Thus were the knight and squire discoursing together when Don 

Femando and Cardenio, fearing lest Sancho should see info the whole 

of their plot, being already not &r from it, resolved to hasten then 


non qnixoTB. 


the priest engaied to pay the troopers of 

naute's foddle, and the basin on the oliicr ; then, nfter placing ÜM 
two troopers with their carbbes on each side of the wi^^n, he mada 
siirns to Sancho to mount his ass, and lead Itoziiiante by tlio bddJe. 
liut before the car mOTcd forward, the hostess, her daughter, attd 
Maritomes, came out to take their leave of UnnQuiiote, pretendijw 
to shed tcurs for ^¡ef at bia misfortune. "Weep not, my ROod 
ladies," said the kni^lit, "for disasters of this kind are incident lu 
tiiose of my pro/ession ; and if sncb calamities did not befal me, I 
should not account myself a distin^ished knight^rrant, for these 
events never oocur to the isnohle. out to those whose vnlonr and 
lirtue excite the envy of princes and knights, who seek br evil machi- 
nations to defame whatever is jjraisewortny and (rood, Kotwith- 
standini; which, so-powerfii! is virtne, that of herself alone, in spite 
of all the necromantic skill of the fitat enchanter, Zoroaster, abe wiU 

.S victorious in every attack, and spread her lustre o\ „ _„_ 

world, as the sua illumines the heavens. Pardon me, fair ladies, if I 
have throu^'h inadvertence given yon any offence — for intentionally I 
never offended any person; and I beseech you to prayHcaien for my 
dcliTerance from mV present thraldom ; and if ever I £nd myself at 
liberty, I shall not forget the favours yon have done me in this castle, 
but shall acknowledge and requite tlicm as they deserve," 

W'iiile this passed netwcen the ladies of tliecaslle and Don Qniiote, 
the priest anit the barber took their leave of Don Fernando and his 
companions, the captain, and of aU the ladies, now snnrcmely happy. 
])on Veniando requested the priest to give him intelligence of Doa 
(Quixote, assuring him that notliin^ would afford bim more satisfac- 
tion than to hear of his future proceedings ; and he promised, on his 

Eart, to inform him of wbntevermisbt amuse or please him respecting 
is own marriaye, the baptism of Zoraida, and the return of Lucinda 
to her parents, and also the issue of Don Ijouis'a amour. The priest 
eugaited to perform all that was desired of him with the utmost 
punctuality) after which tbcr separated, Mrith niany expressions ot 
mutual cordiality and good'Wtll. Just before the priest left the houses 
tbe innkeeper brought him some papers which he said be had fuund 
in the lining of the wallet that contained the novel ot the " Curious 
Impertinent ;" and since tlie owner had never returned to claim them, 
and he could not read himself, ho might take them awav with him. 
Tiie priest thanked him ; and opening the p.-mers, found-tneni to he « 
novel, «)1itlcd "Kinconcte and Cortadillo;"*and,concluding that it 
was by the same author as that of the "Curious Impertinent," was 
inclined to judge favourably of it : he therefore accepted the manu- 
script, intendiui to peruse it the first opportunity that offered, lie 
and the barber then joined the cavalcade, which was arranged in th(i 
following order ;— In tbe front was the car, puidcd by the owner, nnd 
on each side the troopers with their matchlocks; then came Sancho 
upon his ass, leading Knzimuitc by the bridle; nnd in the rear tbe 
priest and his friend Nicholas, mounted on iheir stately mules ; and 

• Wriltin by Ccrvant«. 


thus the whole moved on irith great solemoitj', regi|lo(fd by tlm alow 
pace of tlie uiea. Don Quhcote sdt in the ea^e, with bis hands tied 
andhisle.qs stretched out, leaning aiminst tlic bars as sileiiilyund 
patient))' as if lie hul been not a diui of ilcsh and blood, but n sratue 
of BtouK. In this manner they travelled about two leafniE^i vl><!n tlicy 
cune to a valley whicii the wagEoner thougiit a convenient ¡ilai-e for 
USting and "baiting his cattle ; but on bis proposing it, tlie burbet 
recommended that tbcf should travel a little &rther, aa beyouil tbe 
next rising ground there was avale that afforded much better pasture ; 
sad tbis advice vas followed. 

The priest, happoaing about this time- to look back, perceived 
bdiind them sii or seven horsemen, well mounted and accoutred, who 
soon came up with them; for they were not travelling witb the 
[Alopnatic paoe of tho oien, but like persons mounted on good eccle- 
awtical mutes, and eager to reach a place of shelter against tbu mid- 
dar snn. The speedy overtook the bIow, and each party courteously 
aafnted the other. Une of the travellers^ who was a canon of Toledo, 
and master to those who acoompanied him, obserróí; the orderly pro- 
cession of the waKgon, the tmopcrs, Sancho, Rocinante, the pnest, 
and tbe barber, and especially Uon Qiiiiotc caged np and imprisoned, 
could not forbear makrnff »omt inquiries : though, on observing the 
budges of tbe hojj' bratherhood, he concluded that they «ere coa- 
VCTTOg some notonoos robber, or' other criminal, whose punishment 
belonged to tliat fraternity. " Why the gentleman is carrirtl iu this 
manner," replied one oí the troopers who was questioned, " he must 
tell you himself; for we know nothing atmnt the mntter," Upon 
which Don Quinóte (having overheard what passed) snid : " If pcr- 
<duuico, gentlemen, you are eonversaot iu the aHairs of chiralri', I uill 
acquaint you with my mislorLnnes; but if not, I will sp.ire myself 
that trouble." The priest and the barber perceiving Ihnt tbe travel- 
lers were spealtiog with Don Quixote, rode up to them, lest anything 
should pass that might frustrate iheir plot. The canon, in answer to 
Bon Quixote, said: "In truth, brother, I am more conversant in 
books of cliivalry than in Villalpando's Summaries ; yon may, liipre. 
fore, freely communicate to mc whatever yon please." "With 
Heaven's permission, then," replied Don Quixote, "be it known tu 
jtn, BÍgnor cavalier, that I am enchanled in this cage through the envy 
and fraud of wicked necromaneers ■ for virtue is more persecuted by 
the wicked than beloved by the good. A knight-errant I am : not one 
of those whose names fame lias forgotten to etemiEc, but one who, in 
despite of envy itself, and of all the m-u^cions of Persia, theBiahmins 
of India, and the gyninoeophists of Kthiopia, shrdl enrol bis name in 
the temjle of immortality, to serve as a model and mirror 1o future 
a«es, wnereby kniehta.errant may see the track they are to follow, if 
tiiey are ambitions of reaching the honourable summit and pinnacle of 
tnie glory." " Signor Don Quixote do la Mancha says the truth," 
said llie priest; "for he i» conveyed in that enchanted state not 
throngii hie own fault or demerit, but the mnlice of those to vhoni 
virtue is odious, and courage obnoxious. This, sir, is the knislit of 
the sorrowful figure, whose valorous exploits and neroie deeds .shnll 
be recorded on solid brass and everlasting marble, in despite of all the 
tflbrts of envy and nialico fo conceal and obscure them." The canon, 
npon hearinfi not onlv the imprisoned but the free man talk in such a 
atyle, crossed himself in amazement, nor were hi» followers less sur- 
,, ..A.OOgIC 

853 iKis QDTXon. 

prised ; and Sancho bot coming np, to mend the matter, siud ; " Loot 
ye, centlenien, let it be well or ill taken, I will ont with it : the truth 
of tlie case is, my master, Don Quixote, is just as much enchanted as 
my motlier; he is in his perfect senses— he eats, drinks, and doesevery- 
thin? else like other men, and as .he did yesterday, before they cooped 
him up. This being so, will you persuade me he is enchanted? The 
enchanted, 1 have heard say, neither eat, nor sleep, nor speak ; bat ray 
master here, if nobody stops him, will talk ye miffe thin thirty bar- 
risters." TheD,turnii^fo the priest, he went on saying; "Ah,niBster 
priest, master priest, do I not know you ? And tliink you that I 
cannot jiiirss what these new enchantments drive at? Let me tell 
yon 1 know you, though you do hide your face, and understaud you, 
too, sly as yon may be. But the good cannot aoide where envy rules, 
nor is generosity found in a beggarly breast. Evil befal the devil! 
Had it not been for jour reverence, before this time his worehip had 
been married to the princess Micomicona, and I had been an earl at 
least ; for I could expect no less from my master's bounty, and the 
greatness of my services. But I find the proverb true, that 'the 
wheel of fortune turns swifter than a mill-wheel,' and tlicy who were 
yesterday at tlie top are to-day at the bottom. I am grieved for my 
poor wife and children ¡ for when they might reasonably expect to see 
their father come homeagovcmor or viceroy of some island or king- 

•m, they will now see him return a pitiful groom. All this I sa^, 

"'er priest, only to make your paternity feel some compunction IQ 

d to what you are doing with my master ; take liced tliat you 

are not called to an account in the next life for this ii. _. . ._ 

my lord, and aU the goad he might have done during this time of his 
confinement be required at yoarliands." " Snnff me these candles t" 
quoth the harhet, intcrTupliiw the squire : " what ! art thon, Sancho, 
of thy master's fraternity? As Heaven shall save me, Ibesintothink 
thon art likely to keep him company in tlie c;^, for thy share of bis 
humour and his chivalry. In an evil hour wcrt thou puffed up by his 
promises, and thy head filled with islands." " I am not puffed up at 
all," answered Sancho, "nor am I a man to suffer myself to become 
BO by the promises of the best king that may be : and though I am a 
poor man, I am an old Christian, and owe nobody anything ; and if I 
covet islimdg, there are others who covet worse thinas ; and every one 
is the son of his own works : and beiiw a man, Imay come to be 
pope, and mnch more easily, governor of an bland ; especially sinca 
my master may win so many, that he maybe at a loss «here to bestow 
them- Take need, master barber, what you say: {oc shavii^ beards 
is not alL and there is some difference between Pedro and I'edro. I 
say this because we know one another, and there is no putting false 
dice upon me. As for my master's enchantment. Heaven knows the 
tmth, and let that rest — it is the worse for stirring." The barber 
would not answer Bancho, lest his simphcitv should betray them : and 
for the same reason the priest desired the canon to go on alitUe 
before, saying he would let aim into the mystery of the imprisoLment, 
with other particulars that wonld amuse turn. 

The canon and his servants then rode on before with the priest, who 
entertained him with a circumstantial account of ijon Quixote, from 
the first symptoms of his derancemcnt to his present situation in the 
cage. The canon was suipriscd at what he heard- " Truly," said he 
to the curate, "those tatea of cbiv^ry are very prejndicial to the 


common -weal ■ and though led awaf by an idle and false tastn, I hnve 
Tead in part almost all tbat are printed, I could never get tliroagh the 
vboleof anyone of them— they are allaomnch alike. In m; opinion, 
this kiod of wntiiig and eompositioQ folb under ihe hf^ad oí what are 
called Milcsiaa fables, nliicli are extravagant stories calculated merely 
to amuse, and very unlike those moral talcs «hich are no less ins'.ruc- 
tive than entertaining ; and though the principal object of such booka 
is to please, 1 know not how they can attain that end by such mon- 
atrous absurditicfl : for the mind receives pleasure from the beauty and 

of a talc in which a jouth of aiiteen hews down a giaDt bí. . 

steeple, and splits hun ¡a two as if he wore made of paste ? Oi how 
■re we to be interested in the detail of a battle, when ife are told that 
the hero contends abne a^cainst a million of adversaries, and obtains 
the rielori- by hb single arm ? Then what shall we say to the facility 
with which a queen or empres!» throws herself into the arms of an 
errant and unknown kniirht ? What mind, not wholly barbarous and 
uncultivated, can feel satisücd in reading that a vast tower, full of 
knights, is Liunchcd upon the ocean, and sailing like a ship before the 
wind, is to>nizhtin Lorn hardy, and tomorrow morning in the country 
of Préster John, in the Indies, or in some other that I'tolciiiy never 
discovered, or Marco Paolo ever saw ? It may he siud that these being 
professedly works otinventioa, should not be criticised for inaccuraci; : 
Dut I say that fiction should be probable,atidthatinproportionasitis 
to, it is pleasing. Fables shoald not be composed to outrage the under- 
standiog ; but Dy making the wonderful appear possible, and creating 
in the mind a plcasini; interest, tbey mav both surprise and entertain ; 
idiieh cannot be effected where noregardispaidtoprobability. Ihave 
ncTer yet found a regular, well-connected faole in any of oar books of 
ohival^— thcv are all inconsistent and monstrous ; tfae style ia gtne- 
lallybad; and they abonod with incredible exploits, lascivious amours, 
absurd sentiments, and miraculous adventures : in short, they slioula 
be banished every Christian country." 

The priest listened attentivelv to these obsorvations of the canon, 
vhich he thought were perfectly jast ; and he told him that he also 
bad snch enmity to those tales of chivalry that he had destroyed all 
that Don Quiiote had possessed, which were not a few in number i 
and he amused the canon very much by his account of the formal 
trial and condemnation through whidi they had passed. " Notwith' 
standing all that I have said against this kind of book¿" said the canon, 
" I think they certainly have the advantage of a^uxling an ample 
field for the exercise of genius : there is such scope for descriptivo 
|K>wers, in storms, sliipwrecka, and battles ; and a&o for the deUnea- 
fion of character, for instance, in the military hero^his foresight in 
uiticipating the stratagems of his adversary, his eloquence in eiicuu- 
tngini; or restaining his followers, his wisdom in council, his promp- 
titude in. action. Now the author paints a sad and tragio^il event. 
Bud now one that is joyful ; sometimes he expatiates on a valiant and 
ooarleons knight, at others on a rude and lawless barbarian ; now on 
a warlike and affable prince, tlieu a good and loyal vassal, lie tmj 
■how himself to be an excellent astronomer or seogr^her, a musi- 
cian, or a statesman; andif he [)leases, may even duate on the wonders 
QCy. Ue may describe the mbtilty of Ulyues, the piety 

S54 voy <iüizoiB. 

of JEacas, flic bra?cry of Acliillea, the misfortunea of Ilecior, Ibo 
trcnclicry oí Siiion, the friendsbip of Eurjalos. the Jiberabty of 
AlrxHiidcr, the valour of Cftsar, the clemeiicj' uia probity of TniJMi, 
tlic fidelity of Zopyroa, tlie irisdom of Cato, and finally all those 
quidities nhii^h constitute the pcifcot bero ; cither uniting them ia a 
ungle person or dislribatin; tlietn amoni maay; and if all this be 
dnne ¡n a natural and pleasing style, a neb of various and beaatiful 
oontnxture might surelv be wi-ouiilit, that would be equally driitchtful 
and instructive. Tlic freedom, indeed, of this kind of compositioB is 
alike favmirabic to the anthor, wlietlier he irould dispUy his powers 
in epic (lor there may be epic in prose aa veil as verae), or in lyric, 
in ii-asedy or comedy — in short, ia every depaitmait of the delicioua 
art» of poetry and oratory." 


" Vert true — it is ejsctly as yon My, sir," «aid the priest to tbo 
canon; "and, therefore, those vho have hitherto composed meli 
books are the more deserving of censure for their entire disríqíard to 
good sensft, and every rule by which they might have becoo» (he 
rivals in prose of the two prinoes of Greek and Latin poetry." " I 
have myself made an attempt to ^t« a book of knight-errantry on a 
better pUn," said the canon : " and, to oonfess the Imth, I have not 
writlen less ttian a hnndred ebects, which I have «hown to some 
learned and judicions friends, as well a» to others iese cultivated aod 
more Lkcly to be pleased with extravagance ; and from all I met with 
encouragement. Notwithstanding this, I have never pcooeedcd in 
the work, partly from an idea that it was foreign to my fnírtawo, 
and partly from the consideration of what a great majority of fools 
there is in the world ¡ and, althoiu;h I know that tlie a^Mvbation of 
the judicious few should far outweigh the censure of the ignorant, yet 
I feel averse to eipoaingmyself to vulvar criticism, I was discoursed, 
too, whenever I reflected on the present state of the drama, and the 
absurdity and incoherence of most of our modem ooraedics, whether 
fictitious or historical ; for the actor and author both say that ttiej 
must please the people, and not produce compositions which can only 
be appreciated by a naif score of men of sense ; and that thev would 
rather gain subsistence by the many than reputation by tne few. 
'What other fate, then, could I eipect but that, after racking my 
brains to produce a reasonable work, I should get nothing but ny 
labour for mj pains ? I have occasionially endeavoured to perauade 
theatrical managers that they would not only gain more credit but 
eventually find it more odvantageous to prodace better dramas ; bat 
they will not listen to reasoa Conversing one day with a feliow of 
this kind, I said, ' Do you not remember that a few years since three 
tragedies were produced which were universally admired; that 
dehgbted both tlie ^notant and the wis^ the vulgar M wcU as tha 


DiscoinuE 05 mi 8S5 

enltivated ; and that b7 tboxe three pieces the pkycn guned more 
Ihaii by thirty of the best which have since Iwen represented ?' 'I 
BUppose yoH mean the " Isabella," " PhiUia," and " Alcxnndrs,"' he 
repficd. 'The same,' said I; 'and pray recollect, that althougli they 
were wrilten in strict conformity to the rules of ait^ they were suc- 
cessful : the whole blame, therefore, is not to be ascribed to the taste 
of the Tulgar. There is notlim^ absurd, for instance, in the pUy of 
" Inaratitude Revenged," nor m the "isnmantia," norin the Mer- 
chant Lover," much less in the "I'aTDurahle iiemy;" or in some 
Dtliers, Doinposed by insenions poets, to their own resomi and the 
profit of those who acted them.' To these I added other ailments, 
which I thought iu Bome degree perplexed him, but were not so con- 
Tincinj as to make him reform bis erroneous pnietioe." 

" Signor canon," said the priest, " yon have touched npon a subject 
which has revived in me an old gnidge 1 have bome n^ast our 
modem plays, scarely less than that 1 feel towards books of chivalry ; 
for though the drama, according to Cicero, ooght to be the mirror of 
luman life, an eiemplar of manners, and an imajte of tmth, those 
which are nowproduradaremirrors of inconsistency, patterns of folly. . 
and imaiiKS of ucentiousQess, What, for instance, can be more absnnl 
Uan the introduction in the ñrst scene of the first act of a child in 
iwaddliog-ciothes, that in the second makes bis appearance as a 
bearded man P or to represent an old man valiant, a young man 
cowardly, a footman a rhetorician, a page a privy-counsellor, a king a 
watar-carrier, and a princesa a sculbon P Nor are they more obser- 
vant of place than of time. I have seen a comedv, the firat act of 
which M'as laid in Europe, the second in A«a, and tee thlid in Africa ; 
and, had there been four acts, the fourth would doubclees have been 

bear to see BB aetionwhicu passed in the time of king Pepin or Ghap 
lemagne, ascribed to the emperor Heracliiis, who is introdueed carry- 
iS the cross into Jerusalem, or recovering the holy sepulchre, Uke 

Godfrey of Boulogne, thoueh numberless years had elapsed between 
these actions C and, when the piece is founded on notion, to see histo- 
rical events mingled with facts relating to different persons and 
times F — and all tliiswithoutany appearance of probability, but, on the 
oontrarr, full of the grossest ^surdity ? And yet there ara people who 
think all this perfection, and cull everything else mere pedantrv. The 
laered dramas too — how they arc made to ahoond with false and 
incomprehensible eveiita : frctiuently confounding the nh'acles ^ one 
saint with those uf another : indeed, they are often introduced in pli^ 
on ptofuie subjects, merelj^ to please the people. Thus is our natural 
taste degraded in the opinion of cultivated nations, who, judging by 
tbe eX-travagance and absurdity of our p^uotions, conceive us to be 
in ft state of ignorance andbaroarism. It isnotasuSicieat excuse to 
aay that the object in permitting theatrical exhibitions being chi^^ 

to provide innoeent recreation for the people, it is unueoesaarytoUmit 
ud reetroin the dramatic author within strict rules of composition ; 
for I affirm that the same object is, beyond all comparison, more 
effectually attained by Intimate works. The spectator of a good 
drama n amused, admomsiicd, and improved, by what is diveitíng, 
afiectiog, and moral iu the representation: be is cautioned against 
deoeil» oonected by example incensed against vio^ stimalated to the 

" A.oogic 

SEO DOB ■it'ixon. 

love of virhie. Sacli are the eCTccta prodaced b; dramiUic excellency 
bat they are not to be expected oa our present sluice : altiiough we 
have many aulhora perfectly aware of the prevailing defecta, hut who 
justify themsclTes b/ saying that, in order lo make their works sale- 
able, they must write wh^ the theatre wiil purchase. We have » 
proof of this even in the haijpiest genius of our countr};, who bai 
written an infinite nnmber of dramatic vorks with such vivacity aod 
elegance of style, such loftiness of sentiment and richness of elocu- 
tion, that his fame had spread over the world ; nevertheless, in con- 
forming occasionally to the bad taste of Ihe present dny, his proauctions 
arenol all equally eicellent. Besides the errors of taste, some authors 
have indulged in public and private scandal, inso-jiuch that the actors 
have been oblifred lo abscond. These and every other ineonveuience 
wonid be obviated if some intelligent and judicious person of the 
court were appointed to eianiine all plavs before they are acted, and 
without whose approbation none should be performed. Thus guardi-d. 
the comedian might act without personal nsk, and the author would 
write with more circumspectiou ; and by such a reg:ulation works of 
merit might be more frequent, to the benefit and honour of the 
country. And in truth were the same or some other person appointed 
to examine all future books of chivalry, we might hope to see some 
more perfect productions of this kind to enrich our language, and 
which, Buperseoing the old romances, would afford rational amusement 
not to the idle alone, but to the active : for the bow cannot remain 
alwavB bent, and relaxation both of body and mind is indispensable 

The canoa and the priest were now inteminted in their dialofrue br 
the barber, who, coming iip to them, said, " This is the spot wlicre I 
proposed we should r^ ourselves; ana the cattle will Knd here 
plenty of grass. The canon hearing this, determined to halt likewise 
induced by the beauty of the place and the pleasure he found in the 
priest's conversation; besides, he was curious to see and hear more of 
Don Quixote, He ordered some of bis attendants to go to the 
nearest inn and bring provisions for the whole party ; but he was told 
by one of them that their sumpter-mule, which had gone forward, 
carried abundance of relreshment, and that they should want nothing 
from the inn but barley ; upon which he despatÁhed them in haste for 
the mule. 

During the foregoinf; conversation between the canon and the 
curate, Mncho perceivmg that he might speak lo bis master without 
tie continual presence oi the priest ¿id the barber, whom he looked 
npqn with snspieion, came np to his master's cage, and said to him : 
" Sir, to disburden my conscience, I must tell you something about 
this enchantment of yours ; and it is this, that those who are riding 
idong with us with their faces covered are the priest and the barber Oi 
our town ; and I fancy they have played you this trick and are cairy- 
ingyouin thismanneroutofpnreenvy of your worship for surpassing 
tbem in famous achievements. Now supposing this to be true, it is 
plain that you are not enchanted, but cheated and fooled ; for proof 
whereof I would ask you one thing; and if you answer me, as I 
beheve you most, you ahall lay your finger upon this cheat, and find 
that it is just as I say." "Ask what thou wilt, son Sancho," answered 
Don Quixote ; " for I will satisfy thee to the full without reserve. 
Hut as to thy assertion that thráe persons who accompany ns are 

ur WPOitTiKT tpmnax. 257 

tbe priest and the Wber, our toimsmen and acquaiataace— hcnrerei 
they may appear to thee, thou must in nowiae believe it. Of this 
thou mayeat be assured, that if they appear t« be such they have only 
asaumed their semblance ; for enchanters can easily take what forma 
they please, and they may have selected those of our two frieoda in 
Older to mislead and invoire thee in such a labyrinth of fazioiea 
that eren the due of Theseus could not extricate thee. Besides, tbej 
may also have done it to make me «aver in my jud^uent, and 
prerent jne from suanecting from what quarter tnis injury comea. 
fW, if on the ooe hand, thou sayst that the priest and barber of our 
vSl^e are our companions, and on the other I find myself looked ap 
in a cage, and am conacions that supernatural force alone would have 
power to imprison me — what can I say or think but that the mmmer 
of my enchantment is more exlraordina^ than any that I have ever 
read of in history F Heat assured, therefore, that these are no mote 
the persons thou sayest than 1 am a Turlc. As to thy queries— make 
them ; for 1 will answer thee, though thou shouldet continue aakiog 
nnti! to-morrow moraing." Blessed "Virgin!" atiswered SmioIio, 
rusing his voice. " is your worship indeed so thick-sculled ana 
devoid of brains that yon do not see what I tell you to be the very 
truth, and that there is more roguery than enchantment in this mishap 
of yours, as I will cleail; prove? Now tell me, as Heaven shall 
deliver you from this trouble, and as yon hope to nnd yonrself in my 
Lady Dulciuea'a arms when you least think of it " " Cease ocm- 

Í' irins me," said Bon Quixote, " and ask what qncstiona thou wilt, 
K I have alreadv told thee that I will answer them with the utmost 
precision." "Triat is what I want," replied Sancho; "and all I 
crave is that you would tell me, without adding or diminishing a 
tittle, and vnth that truth which is expected from all who exercise 
the profession of anna, as your worship does, under the title oí 

iniglts-crrant " " I tell thee I will lie in nothing," answered 

Don Quixote: " therefore, speak ; forin truth, Sancho,! am wearied 
with so many salvos, poslolstums, and preparativea." " I saj," 
replied Sancho, "that I am fully satisfied of the goodness and veraraty 
of^my master ; and therefore, it being quite to the purpose in oui 
affiiir, I ask (with respeel be it spoken), whether since you have been 
cooped ap, or as you call it enchanted, in this cage, your worship has 
haoany natural inclinations P" " I do not understand thee, Sancho," 
said Don Quixote ; " explain thyself, it thou wouldst have me give thee 
a direct answer." " Is it possible," quoth Sancho, " jour worship 
ahonld not understand that phrase, when the very children at school 
arc weaned with it ? Yoa must know, then, it means whether you have 
not had an incliualion to lighten jour stomach of exhausted matters?" 
"Ay, now I oomprdiend thee, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "andin 
traUi I have often had such inclmatioa." 

UirireM,, Google 


"AbI" qaoth Sanc)io, "nov I bare caught jon; this ia what I 
longed to knov with nil my heart and soul. Come on, sir ; can yon 
deny whst is b everj-bod/s mouth, when a person ia la the damps F 
It is always then «aid, ' X know not what sDcn an one úls — he neither 
eats, nor drinks, nor sleep», nor answers to the purpose, like other 
men — snrely he is enchanted.' Wherefore it is clear that soeh, and 
anch only, are enchanted wlio neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep, and 
not they who eat and drink when they can get it, and answer properly 
to all tbat is asked them." "Thou art right, Sancho," answered 
Bon Quixote ; " but I have already told thee that there are sundry sorts 
of encDantments, and it is probable that in process of time they may 
have changed, and that now it may be usual for thoee who are 
enchanted to do as I do, though it was formerly otherwise: it is 
impossible to argue or draw conclusions from the rarving customs of 
different periods. I know and am verily ^rsuaded that I am 
encbantea 1 and that is sufficient for my conscience, which would be 
heavily burdened if I thought I wa» not so, but suffered myself to líe 
in this cage like a coward, defranding the necessitous and oppressed 
of auccoor, when perhaps at this Terymoment they may be in extreme 
want of my aid and protection." "But for all that," repLed Sancho, 
"I aajt, for your greater and more abundant satisfaction, that yoor 
woialup will do well to endeavour to get out of this prison; aiid I 
will nndertake to help you with all my might. You may then once 
more mount your trusty RoEinant^ who seems ai if he were enchanted 
too, he looks so melancholy and dejected ; and we may again try our 
fortone in search of adventares : and if matters turn ont not qoite to 
our hearts' content, we can come back to the cage ; and I promise 
yqup on the faith of a good tod loyal sq^ir^ to sliut myself np in it 
with your worship," "I am content to follow thy advice, brother 
Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "and when thou seest an opoortunity 
for effecting my deliverance, I will be guided entirely by tnee ; bat 
be MsoretL Sancho, thou wilt find thyself mistaken as to the nature 
of my miafortune." 

In such convewation the kmght-ernint and the evil-errant sqoirs 
were engaged, until they came to the place where the priest, the 
canon, and the barber were already ali^nted and waiting for utem. 
The waggoner then unyoked the oxen from his team, and turned them 
looee upon tíiat green and delicious spot, the freshness of which was 
inviting not only to those who were enchanted, like Uon Quiiot& 
but to discreet and enlightened persons like his squire, who besoaght 
the priest to pennit his master to come unt of the cage for a short 
time; otherwise that prison woold not be quite so clean as decency 
required in the acconunodaliou of such a knight as his master. The 
pmet understood him, and said that he would readily consent to his 

THX nn»HT n bkzash». 

nqneat ; bat he feared lest his miisteT, finding hitnMlf at liberty, 
ahonld ii*j hü old pnnlca, nnd be gone Where he tni^bt nercr be seen 

■le enchuted h»Te no power over their own persons, for tbeir peise- 
oators maj render them motionless doríng three centuries ; fan ma^, 
therefore, ssfel; release me." He then intimated ferther that his 
removal mieht prore more agreeable to all the party on another 
acoonnt. The canon took him bf the hand, though he was still 
Bwoacled, and apon his bith and word thef nncaged him, to bis frreat 
satiafaction. The Erst thing that he did was to Biretch himself; after 
that he went np to Uoimante, and giving him a conple of slap» on the 
hinder patts with the palm of his hand, he said: "i vet trust in 
Heaven, thon flower and pattern of ste^ ! that we shall both soon 
Ke onrselTea in that state which is the desire of oar hearts— thoa 
with th; lord on thr back, and I monnted opon thee, eiercbing the 
fimction for which Heaven destined me ! " Tne knight then, attended 
bf Sancho, retired to some httle distance; whence he came back 
much relieved, and still more e<^er to pnt in eiecntion what his 
squira had projected. The canon contemplated him with surprise : 
tít he dispUved in conversatitn a ver; good understanding, and 
seemed, as it natb been before observed, cmlj to tose his stirmps on 
tiíñ theme of cbivalr; ; and while thejr «ere waiting for the return of 
the sumpter-mule, he was induced, out of oompassioa to his infirmity, 
to address him on the subject. 

" Is it possible, worthj sir," said the canon, " that the disgusting 
and idle stody of doc^ cd chivalrr should ao powerfully have affected 
TOUT brain as to make ^Odbelievetnat yon are DOW enchanted, with other 
fuuñes of the same kind, ■■ far from tmth as falsehood itself P Is it 

giants; alt ii 
encounters ; c 

billet-doui, amours, i . . . _ 

which books of chivalry contain ? Vor my own part, I <n 
I read them without refieoting on tbeir falsehood and foil 
ve some amusement ; bnt when I consider what they are, i aasn loem 
•gainst the wall, and evenoonunit lAem to the flames when 1 am near 
a fire, as «ell deserving auch a fate, for their want of common senses 
and tiieir iigurioua tendency in misteadins the uziinfbrn>ed. Nav, thej 
maf even disturb the intellects of sensible and well-hen i^tlemen, 
u IS manifest by the effect they have had on your worship, who is 
reduced br them to such a state that vou are forced to b« shut up in 
a BSge and carried on a team from place to place, like some lion or 
tiger exhibited for money. Ah, Signor Don Quiiote ! 4iavo pitv on 
TDUiself: shake off this folly, and employ the talents with which 
Heaven has blessed yon in the cultivation of literature more subser- 
vient to your honour, as well as ptoiiLable to yoor micd. If a strone 
n^nral impulse still leads yon to books containing the eiiiloits of 
beroes, read in the Holy Siñiptnreí the book! of Judges, where von 
will meet with wonderful truths, and achievements no leas heroic than 
tnu. Fortngtd had a Viriatoa, IU)me a Sasar, Carthage a Hannib al . 

8 3 r , . A.OO'^IC 

SCO SOX qoasn». 

Greeee an Aleumder, Cnstile a Coont Fenwodo Gonzdei, VaIen«ÍB« 
Cid, Andalucía k (üoázalo Feniandez, Estremadim a Die^ Qarra» de 
Faicdea, Xerei a Garcia Perez de Vargas, Toledo a Garcilaao, and 
Seville a Don Manuel deLeoQ ; the mciniiirs of vhoae bcroio deeds afford 
a rational sonroe of amusemcat and pleasure. This, indeed, would be a 
■hu^wortfav of four undentanding, rny dear air. by whicli you wonld 
become well instructed in history, enamoured of virtue, fanuUBr with 

Don Quñote listened with great attention to the canon till he 
bad ceased speaking, and then, looking steadfastly in his faoe, he 
repbed : " I oonceiv^ sir, that tou mean to insúmate that there nera 
were knigbtB-erraut m the world; tli&t all books of chivalry tie falsa, 
miscbievouB, and unprofitable to the commonwealth ; and that I haw 
done ill in reading, worse in believing, and still worae in imitating 
tbem, by following the rigorous profession of knigbt^eiTantry, as by 
them exemjilifiedi and mo that you deny that there ever existed tl» 
Amadisea either of Gaul or of Greece, or any of those celebrated 
knights P" " 1 mean precisely what you say," replied the cmlod. 
" You also were pleased to add, I believe,'' continued Don Quixote, 
" that those books had done me much prejudice, baviiuc injured my 
brain, and occasioned my impriionmcnt in a cage ; and thai it would 
be better for me to champe my course of study by reading other books 
more true, more pleasant, and more instractivef" "Just so," quoth 
the canon. " Why, then," said Dun Quixote, " in my opinion, sir, it 
is yourself who are deran^ and enchanted, since you have dated to 
blasiilicme an order so universally acknowledged in the world, and its 
existence so authenticated that he trho denies it merits that puiush- 
ment you are pleased to say you inñict on certain books. To assert 
that there never was an Ainadis in the world, nor any other of the 
knigbts'sdventureis of whom so many reconis remain, is to say that 
the sun does not eoligliten, the frtMt produce cold, nor the earth yieU 
sustenance. What human ingenuity can make us doubt the truth of 
that affair between the Infantil Floniies and Gn» of Burgundy f and 
that of Fierabrás at the bridge of Mantible, wliich occurred in the 
time of Charlemagne P— I vow to God, they are as true as that it is 
now dayhght ! u theee arc fictions, it must be denied also that there 
ever was a Hector or an Achilles, or aTroian war, or the twelve peen 
of France, or King Arthur of England, who is still wandering about, 
tranafomied into a raven, and is everi moment expected in lug king- 
dom. They will even dare to aiñnu fliat the history of Guarino 
Mezquino, and tbat of the acquisition of the Santo Grial, are lies ; «ud 
tliiU the amour of Sir Tristram and the queen Iseo. as well as liiose 
of Ginebra and Lancelot, are also apocryphal: altliougb there an 
persons wbo almost remember to have seen the duenna Quintañona, 
who was the best wine-akinner in Great Britain. And this is bd 
certain, that I remember my grandmother by my father's side, when 
she saw any dnemia rcvcrectly coifed, would say to mc, ' That woman, 
grandson, looks like the dacnna Quintañona;' whence I Infer that she 
must either have known her. or at least seen some true efiigy of her. 
Then who can deny the trutli oS the history of Fetet of Frovence ud 


H» fiar UasbIoiu, since even to this da; 70T1 ma; see in t!ic king;'» 
BrmouT the xerv peg nberewith the vslinnt Peter steered the wooden 
bone tnst bore him through tha air ; wljicli pes is somewhut larger 
than the pole of a coach ; and near it lies the saddle of Babieca P In 
fionoesvalles, too, there maybeseeüOrhuido'shoni, thesizeofa^reat 
beam. It is, therefore, erident that there were tbe twelve peers, tho 
Paters, the Cida, and all those knights commonlv tenned adveiiturers : 
Md if that be donbtcd, it will be said too tliat the valiant Fortui(ueB& 
Jiim de Merlo, was no Inigbt-errwit ; he who went lo Burgundy, ana 
in the city of Ras fougrbt the famous lord ofCharni, Mouseigueur 
tkm ; and afterwards, in the city of Basil, Monaeigneur Jiiiriqne of 
Remestan: coming off conigueror in both engagements. They will 
deny also the challenges and feats pcrronned in Burgundy by the 
Tsliimt Spaniacda, Pedro Barba and Gutierre Qiiiiada (from whom I 
am lineally descended), who vanquished the sons of the count San 
Polo. Let them deny, likewise, that Don Eemando de Guevara tr»- 
veiled into Gennany in qurát of adventures, where he fought with 
Mesure George, a knight of the duke of Austria'a court. I^t them 
say that the jousts of Kuero de Quiñones of the Pass were all mockery : 
and the enterprises of Monaeignenr Louis de Palees against DonG,.n- 
>b1o de Qozman, a Castilían kmght. with many other exploits performed 
by Christian knighta of these ana other kingdoms :— all so authentic 
and tme, that I say again whoever denies them most be wholly desLi- 
tnte of acuse and reason." 

The canon was astonished at Don Qniiote's medle;^ of truth and 
fiottou, as weL as at the extent of his knowledge on affairs of chivalry ; 
and be replied, " I cannot deny, Signor Don Quixote, but that there 
is some truth in what yon say, especially with regara to ihe knights- 
errant of Spain;'! grant, also, that there were the twelve peers of 
Ttaxax -. but I can never believe that they performed all the deeds 
ascribed to them bv Archbishop Turpio. The truth is, tliey were 
knights chosen by tne kings of iVance, and called peers from being 
all equal in quality and prowess~at least it was inteudcd that they 
riiould be so ; and in this respect they were similar to the religions 
order of Saint Jago or C^trava, all tho professors of which, it is prn- 
sumetL are noble, valiant, and virtuous; and were called KnightÁ of 
St Jonn, or of Alcantara, just as those of the ancient order were 
tenned Knights of the Twelve Peers. That there was a Cid no one 
will den; ana likewise a Bernardo del Carpió : but that they pet- 
fiinned all the exploits ascribed to them I believe there ia great reaswi 
to donbt. As to Peter of Provence's peg, and it« standioi; near 
Babieca's saddle in the king's armourv, I confess my sin in bemg so 
ignorant or shortsighted that, though I have seen tbe saddle I never 
could discovered the peg— large w it is, socordin^ to your desorip- 
tion." "Yet, unquestionably, there it is," replied Don Quixote; 
" and they say, moreover, that it is kept in a leathern case, to prevent 
ntst." "It ma; beso," answered tbe canon; "but by the holy orders 
I have leceived, I do not remember to have seen it. Yet, even 
trraatins it, I am not therefore bound t« believe all the storiee of M 
naa; Ámádises, and the whole tribe of knigjita-errant ; and it ú 
eUnmdinan that a gentleman poasessed of your understanding and 
talents shonid gire credit to awM extrwaganoe and abnirdit;." 


"Vastly fine! — a good jert, trolj," swd Don Qnixol*, "that 
books priated with the ^cence of kiuga uid the approbation of ths 
eisnibers, read with general pleasure, and applauded by great and 
small, poor and rich, learned and ienorant, nobles and pleoeinns — in 
short, by people uf every state and condition, should be all lies, and 
at the same lime appear so much like truth ! for do they not tell 
us the poreutage, the country, the kindred, the age, with a particular 
detail of every action of this or that kiii|;ht ? Good sir, De silen^ 
uid utter not aucb blasphemies ; and believe me serióos «hen I 
adrise jou to think on this subject more like a man of sense : onlj 
pertue these memoirs, end they will abundantly repay your trouble. 
vVhat more delightful thiui to havs, as it were, before our eyes a 
vaat lake of bouing pitch, with a ¿rodigioQS number of serpents, 
Bnakes, crocodiles, and divers olber kinds of fierce and dreadful crea- 
tures, floatiug in it ; and from the midst of the lake to hear a most 
dreaaful voice saying, ' O knight, whosoever thou art, now surveying 
this tremendous lake, if thou wouldst possess the treasure that lies 
ccmcealed beneath these sable waters, show the valour of thy un- 
daunted breast, and plunge thyself headlong into the midst of the 
black and boming liquid ; if not, thou wilt be imworthy to see the 
mighty wonders endued therein, and contained in the seven castles 
of the seven enchanted nymphs who dwell beneath this horrid 
blackness.' And scarcely has the knight heard these terrific words 
when, without farther consideration or reñection upon the danger 
to which he exposes himself, and even without putting off his cumbrous 
armour, he commends himself to Heaven and his mistress, and 
plunges headlong into the boiling pool ; when unexpectedly he finds 
himself in the midst of flowery fields, with which those ot Elysium 
can bear do comparison, where the sky seems far more cleat and the 
sun shines with greater brightness. Beyond it appears a forest of 
beautiful and shady trees, whose verdure regsies the sight, whilst the 
ears are entertained with the sweet, and artless notes of an infinite 
number of little birds of various huea, hopping among the mtricate 
branches. Here he discorers a little brook, nbose clear waters, 
resembbue bquid crystal, run murmuriug over the fine sands and 
snowy petóles, which rival sifted gold and purest pearl. Thcr« he 
sees an artíñcial fountain of variegated jasper and polished marble. 
Here he beholds another of rustic composition, in which the minute 
shells of the muscle, with the white and yellow wreathed houses of 
the suoil, arranged in orderly confusión, inter3¡)ersed with pieces of 
g:litterini crystal and pelludd emeralds, compose a work of such 
variety that art, imitating nature, seems here to surpass her. Then 

imposed of diamondsk ud 


the gates of tif&cnnths ■ in short, the gtrootore is so ftdmirahle Üiat, 
though the maUrialB irhereof it is framed are no leas th&n diamonds, 
carbuacka, rabiea, peuls, gold, and emeraUs, yet the workmaoBhip 
is still more precious, dna after this, can aujthing be more cbann- 
ing than to tebold, sallying forth at the c(Htl&«ate, a goodlr trot^ of 
dnnaels, in mcb nch and gargeoaa attire, that were I to atíempt the 
minute description that is giTen in history, the task would be end- 
leas: and then she who appears ta be the principal takes b; the 
hand the daring; knight who threw himself into the burning lake, and 
silentlf leads him into the rich palace or castle ; and stripping lum as 
naked as when he first came into the world, bathes him in temperate 
water, and then anoints him with odoriferoos essences, and puta on 
him a shirt of the finest lawn, all sweet-scented and perfumed. Then 
comes another damsel, and throws over hia shoulders a mantle worth 
B cilf, at least. He is afterwards led into aoather haH, where be is 
struck with wonder and admiration at the sight of tables spread in 
beautiful order. Then to see him wash his hands in water distilled 
from amber and sweet-scented flowers ! To see him seated in a chair 
of ivory ! To behold the damsels waiting npon him, all preserving a 
marvellous silence I Then to see soch a variety of delictooa viands, 
so savourily dressed that the appetite is at a loss where to direct the 
hand! To hear soft mosic while be is eating, without knowing 
whence the sounds proceed! And when the repast is finished, and 
Üie tables removed, the knight reclines on hia seat, and perhaps is 
nicking hia teeth, when suddenly the door of the saloon opens, and 
lo ! a damsel enters more beautifol than any of the former, who. 
seating herself by the knight's side, b^ins to give him an account of 
that castle, and to inform how she is enchanted itt it, with snnd^ 
other matters which amase the knight and all those who read his 
history. I will enlarge on this no farther; for yon most be con- 
rincei from what I nave said, that every part of every history 
of a knight-errant must yield wonder and delight. Study well these 
books, SLgnor ; for, believe me, you will find that thejf will eihilarate 
and improve your mind. Of myself I can say, that since I have been 
a knight-errant I am become valiant, polite, liberal, well-bred, gene- 
rous, courteous, daring, affable, patient, a sufferer of toils, impnson- 

only in inclination is a dead thing, even as faith withoat works ¡s 
dead. I shall, Üiercfnrc, rejoice when fortune presents me with an 
opportunity of eialting myself, that 1 may show my heart in con- 
ferring benefits on mj fiiends, especially on poor Sancho Panza here, 
my squire, who is one nf the best men in the world ; and I would fain 
bútow on him an earldom, as I have loi^; since promised ; although 
I am somewhat in doubt of hia ability in the government of his 

Sancho, overhearing his master's last words, said, " Take yM the 

trouble, signot Don Qaixote, to procure me that some earldom, 

which your worship has so often promised, and I have been so long 

waiting for, nnd yon shall see that I shall not want t^nlity to govern 

, , . .A.OOgIC 

964 Doir Q:nixoTB. 

K. Bat even if I «honld, tliere ue people, I btwe heard S17, iriio 

fum these lordships ; and, pnying " ... 

npon themselves the gotenunent 01 ..__ . , 

at bis ease, enjoying his estate, without concernins 
ther about it. Just so will 1 do, and pive niyself no more titmUe 
than needs tonat, but emo; myself like any duke, and let the 
world rub." "This, brotber Stmcho," said the canon, "may be 
done, as for as regards tlie management of your revenue ; but the 
administration of justice must be attended to by the lord hinisdf ; 
and requires capacity, judgment, and, above all, an upright ivtm- 
tion, without which nothing prospers: for Heaven assists the good 
btent of the simple, and disappoints the evil designs of the cun- 
ning." " I do not understand ttiese philosophies." answered Sancho ; 
" all that I know is, that I wish I nay as surely have the earldom 
■3 I should know how to govern it ; for I have as k^ a soul as 
another, and as lai^ a body as the best of them ; and I should be as 
touch king of my own dominion as any other king ; and, bein» so, I 
would do what I pleased; and, doing what I pleased, I shoota have 
my will ; and, having my will, I should be contented ; and, being 
content, there is iko more to be desired ; and when there is no more 
to desire, there is an end of it, and let the estate ooine ; so Heaven 
be with ye, and let us ace it, as one blind man said to anoiber." 
" These are no bad philosophies, as you say, Sancho," quoth the 
canon ; " nevertheless, there is a great deal more to be said upon the 
■object of earldoms." "Tiiat may be," observed Don Quijote; 
" but I am guided by the numerous examples offered on this Bubject 
by knights of my own profession; who, in compensation for the 
loyal and signal services they had received from their squires, con- 
ferred upon them extraordinary favours, makiog them absoluta 
lords of cities and islands : indeed, there was one whose services 
were so great, that he had the presumption to accept of ft king- 
dom. But why should I say more, when before me u the bright 
example of the great Amadts de Gaul, who made his squire knight 
_f ..i. Tí:-.. T.i._jn g^,^lJr 1 „,jy^ therefore, without scruple of 
' 01 Sancho Fanz& who is one of the best 

., jnight-errant." With all tl 

raving the canon «as no less amused than astonished. 

The servants who went U> the inn for tlie sompter-mote had now 
letnmed ; ani having spread a cwpet over the green grass, the party 
seated themselves untter the shade of some trees, and there enjoyed 
their repast, while the cattle luxuriated on the fresh pasture. As 
they were tliua employed, they suddenly heard a noise and the Sdond 
of a little bell from a thicket near them ; at the same instant a 
beautiful she^at, speckled with black, white, and grev, ran out of 
the thicket, followed by a goatherd, calling to her aloud, in the 
nsoal langoage^ to stop and come back to the fold, lie fugitive 
animal, trembling and a&ighted, ran to the company, claiming, as 
it were, their protection ; but the goatherd pursued her, and seuins 
her by the horns, addressed her as a rational creature, " Ah, wanton, 
tüotted thing I bow hast tlion strayed of latej What wolves have 
frightened thee, child F Wilt thoa tell me, pretty one, what thia 
means P But what else can can it mean, but that thon art a female, 
■nd therefore canst not be quiet ! A plague on thy bumonrs, and all 
títein whom thon resembkall INiniback, m; love, torn backj for 


tbonfh not eontent, at kftst thou wilt be more tale in thine c 

¿t tbe same time ixe offered him the hiiidd 

, a cold rabbit on the point of a fork. I'he Koatherd thanked 

liini, and accepted his offer, eiid bebg then in a better temper, he 
aaid, " Do not think me a fool, gentlemen, for talking no sehouslj to 
this animal: for, in truth, my vorda were uotvrithout a meaning ; 
and thoagh I am a rustic, I know the difference between coaveninff 
with men and beasts." I donbt it not," said the priest ; "izideea. 
it it well known that the moontaina breed learned men, and ihe hots 
of shepherds contain philosophers." "At least, sir," rephed the 
goatherd, "they oontam men who have some knowledge yarned from 
expetience ; and if I shall not be intruding, I will tell a aroamttanoa 
whioh oonums it." 

" Since this affair," (aid Don Quixote, " bears somewhat the sem- 
blance of^an adventure, for my own part, friend, I shall listen to yon 
most willingly : I can answer also for these gentlemen, who arc per- 
sons of sense, and will relish the curious, tbe entertaining, and the 
marvellous, whii^ I doubt not, your etorr contains : I entreat yon, 
friend, to begin it immediatelr," " I shall take myself away to the 
aide of yonder brook," said Sancho, "with this pasty, of which I 
mean to lay in enough to last three days at least : for I have heard 
my master, DonQuiiot«, say that the squire.of a knight-errant should 
eat when be can, and as long ss be can, because he may lose his way 
for six days together m a wood; and then, if a man bas not his belly 
well lined or his wallet well provided, there he may stay till he is turned 
intoamumray." "Thou art in the right, Sancho," said Don Quixote j 
" go irtiere thou wilt, andeatwhattiioncauat; my appetite is already 
satisfled, and my mind only needs refreshment, wniim the tale of this 
good man will doobtless afford." The goatherd bemg nov requested 
by the others of the company to begin his tale^ be patted his goat, 
wluch he BtiU held by the uorns^ saying; " Lie thee down br me. 
speckled foolj for we shall have time enongb to return to our fold. 
The goat seemed to noderstand him ; for as soon as her master was 
seated, she laid henelf qnietly down by him, and, looking up into his 
fine, seemed to listen to díí at<wy, whioh he began as follows :— 

iiaub, Google 


Til gooAtrd"! namttin. 

" Thbxx leagues from this valle; there is a town which, thovgk 
■msll, isoneof tberiehest in these lúurtsi sud «nang its iuhabitanta 
was a farmer of such an eioellent cnaraoter that, thouiii riches geno- 
rail; géa eíteera, he was mote respected for his good qualities than 
for h^ wealth ; and Mb happiness was complete in possessing a 
dauriiter of eitraordinaiy beauty, discrdioii. Mid Tirtno. When a 
child, she was lovely, but at the age of skt«en she was perfeotly 
beautiful, and her fame extended over all the neighbouring villages— 
villages, do 1 saj' f — it spread itself to the remotest dties, even into 
tbe palaces of kii^ I People came from ererr part to see her, at 
some relic or wouaer-working image. Her fattier goarded her and 
she guarded herself: for no padlocks, bolts, or bars, secure a maiden 
so well as her own reserve. The wealth of the &ther, and the beauty 
of the daughter, induced man; to seek her hand, insomnoh that he 
whose right it was to dispose of so preeioni a jewel was perplesei^ 
and knew not whom to select among her importunate suitors. I waa 
one of the nnmber, and had indulged fond hopes of success, being 
known to her father, bora in the same viliage, untainted in blood, in 
the flower of my age, licb, and of no mean understaudmg. Another 
of our villafe, of eqaal pretensions with myself, solicited her also: 
and her fattier being equally satisfied with both of us, was perplexed 
vhich to prefer, and therefore determined to leave tiie choice to 
Leandra herself— for so the maiden is called: an example worthy the 
imitation of nil parents, I do not say tbev should give them their 
choice of wliat is improper ; but they should propose to them what is 

C, and leave them to aclect tbenoe acoordiiw to their taste. I 
r not which of us Leandra preferred ; this onlr I know, that her 
father put us both off by pleading the tender ueol his daughter, and 
with snch general expressions as neither bountfhimself nor dlBobliged 
ns. My rival's mune is Anselmo, mine Eugenio ; for yon ought to 
know tiie names of the persona concerned in this tragedy, the catas- 
trophe of which, though still suspended, will surely be disastfous. 

About that timetberecame to our village one Vincent delaRosL 
son of a poor farmer in the same pUcc. This Vincent had retnmea 
from Italy and other countries, where he had served in the wars, 
having been carried away &om our town at twelve ;ear? of age, by a 
captam who happened to march that way with his company; and 
now, at the end of twelve yean more, he came back in a soldier's 
garb, bedizened with a variety of CDlours, and covered with a thousand 
frinkets and glittering chains. To^y he put on one piece of finely, 
to-roonovr another: but all slight wid oounterfelt, of little or no 
«lue. The country-folks (who are naturally envions, and if they 
chance to have leisure, are malice itself) observed and reckoned up 


those be disgnúed in so many diSeient mja, mi wHli M mnoh con- 
trivance, that hod the ' ' ' ' " hkTe sworn that 
he had above ten aoib s. Do Dot look 
upon this descriptiOD iperfluouii, í<a it 
is an imporUnt put o nuelf <« a stone 
bench, under a great e, and there he 
wonld hold as all gap of his exploits. 
There vas no countr id not seei^ nor 
battle in whioh he had sin more Mocara 
than are in Morococ single combata, 
•ocording to liia owa Siego Garcia de 
Paredes, and a thoma >ys oame off vio- 
torions, and without a same time ha 
wonld show \is marks j were not to be 
disoemcd, he assnred received in dif- 
ferent actions. With i thee and thou 
his equals and acqoaii was bis father, 

his deeds bis pedigre^ soldier he owed 

tiie king himself nothing. In addition to this boasting, he pretended 
to be somewhat of a musician, and scratched a little apon tne guitar, 
whioh some people admired. Bat his accomplishments did not end 
bere ; for be was likewise something of a poet, and would oompose a 
ballad, a league and a half in length, on every trifling incident that 
hwj^ed in the village. 

flow this soldier whom I have described, this Vincent de la Bos^ ■ 
this hero, this gallant, this musician, this poet, was often seen and 
admired by Leandro, from a window of her house, which faced the 
market-place. She was stmck with the tinsel of his gaudy apparel; 
bis ballads enchanted her; for he gave at least twenty copies about, 
of all he composed. The exploits he related of himself reached her 
ears — in short, as the devil would have it, she fell downri^^lit in love 
with liim, before he had entertained the presumption of courting her. 
In short, as in affairs of iove none are so easily accomplished as those 
which are favoured by tlie inclination of the lady, Leandra and Vin- 
cent soon CAme to a mutual understanding, and before any of her 
numerous suitors had the least suspicion of her design, s)ie liad already 
accomplished it. and left the house of lier affectionate father (she had 
no mother), and quitted the town with the soldier, who came off in 
this enterprise more triumphantly thwi in any of those of which hi 

arrogantly boasted. This event excited great astonisliment 
. ..Imo aud I were utterly confouniled, her father iricved, her 
Idndied ashamed, justice alarmed, and the troopers of the holy bro- 

tiierhood in full activity. They beset the highways, and searched the 
woods. leaving no phúe unexplored; and at the end of three days 
they found the poor giddy Leandra in the cave of a mouDtoin, 
■tnpped of all her clothes, and the money and jewels which she had 
carried away from home. ,They brought her back to her disconsolate 
father: ana being questioned, she freely confessed that Vincent 
de la Kosa hod oeceived her, and upon pronuse of matriage had 
persuaded her to leave her father's house, telling her he would 
carrv her to Naples, the richest and most delicious city in the whole 
wwld. The imprudent and credulous girl said, that hiving believed 
bim, she bad roobed her father, and given the whole to mm on the 
night of her elopement: aod that he had carried her among the 
,, .A.OOgIC 

Txm qinxon. 

her father was much coinforted vith the idea that ¿tit had not sostaJiMd 
tat irreparable loss. 

"The same da; thai Leandra retomed, she di»ppeared from one 
e;ea, as her father placed her in the moniisterT ot a Deighbonring 
town, in hopes that time might efface the bleniisn which lier repntv 
tion had sutFered. Her teiiaer jeata were some eicuse for her&ult, 
especially with those who were mdifferent as to whether she was good 
or bad, but those who know how much sense and understanding she 
possesses could onl^ ascribe her fault to lent;, and the foibles nature 
to womankind. Vi lien Leaudra was ffone, Anselmo and myself were 
blind to eTerything— at least no object could give us pleasure. Wo 
cursed the soldiers finery, and reprobated her father's wont of vin. 
lance ; nor had time any effect in diminishing our regret. At lengui, 
we agreed to quit the town, and retire to this valle}', where we pasa 
onr uves, tending our Bocia, and indulffing our paísion hj praiaesL 
lamentations, or reproaches, and sometimes in solitary siglis and 
groans. Our example has been followed by many other admirers of 
Leandra, who have loinedns in the same employment : indeed, weara 
80 numerous, that this place seems converted into the pastoral Area- 
dia; nor is there a part of it where the name of our beautiful mistreea 
is not heard. One otters execrations against her, caJling her fond, 
■ fickle, and immodest ; another condemns her forwardness and levity : 
some excuse and pardon her; others arraign and condemn ber: one 
praises her beauty, another rails at her dispositiun : in truth, ail 
blame, andoU adore her — nay, such is the general frenzy, that some com* 

Elain of her disdain who never had spoken to her, and some chereare who 
emoan theniaelves and affect to feel the raging disease of jealousy, 
though, as I have said before, her fault was Known before her inclinv 
tions were suspected. There is no hollow of a rock, nor margin of » 
rivulet, nor shade of a tree, that is not occupied by some shepherd, 
lamentmg to the winds. Wherever there is an echo, it is continually 
heard repeating the name of Leaudra; tlie mountains resound Lean- 
dra ; the brooks murmur Lenndra ; in short, Leandra holds us all in a 
state of delirium and enchantment, hoping without hope, .tnd dread- 
ing we know not what. He who shows the least, though he has the 
most sense, among ua madiueo, is my rival Ansebno, for ne complains 
only of absence ; and to the sound of a rebec, which he touches to 
admiration, pours forth his complaint in verses of wonderful ingenuity. 
I follow a better course; and inveigh against the levity of women, 
their inconstancy, and double-dealine, their vain promises, and brok^ 
^th, their absurd and misplaced affections. 

" This, gentlemen, gave rise to the expressions I naed to the goat j 
for being a female, I despise her, thoughaheis thebestof aUmyllaok. 
I have now finished my story, which Ifear you have thought t«dio(u¡ 

bntl shall be glad tc — ' -"- '- '■ ' "— 

which is near, and v 
abnndanoe of fruit." 

UignieUb, Google 


QJ li« guarní httaee» Hon (iuixaU atid tht goatherd; «dJl Ae ran 
<4f>(Mun 4^ tlu áádpliAOKtt, nskick ht tappiti/ occompliAtd wM 
(lU MMOl qf hit brow. 

liOOKiHO and speaking, as he did, more like a f^entleman and a 
scholar than an unpolished goatlierd, Eugenie's tale amused all his 
auditors ; especially the canon, who was struck by his manner of tell- 
ing it ; and he was convinced that the prieat 'xaa perfectl}' right when 
he affirmed that men of letters were often produced among; mountains. 
They all offered their services to Engemo ; bnt the most liberal in bia 
offers was Don Quiiote, who said to him, " In truth, brother goat- 
herd, were I in a situation to undertake any new adventure. I would 
immediatel; engafe myaelf iu your service, and release your lady from 
the nunnery in spite of the abbess and all oppoaers, then deliver her 
into yonr hands, to be disposed of at your pleasure, so far as is con- 
■islent with the laws of chivalry, which eqjoin that no kind of out- 
raf^ be offered to damsels. I trust, however, in heaven, that the 
power of one malicious enchanter shall not l>e so prevalent over 
another but that a hetler disposed one may triumph : and then 
I promise you my aid and protection, accordiag to toe duty of 
my profession, which is so other than to favour the weak and 

The goatherd stared at Don Quiiofc, and observmg liis sad ptig:ht 
and scurvy appearance, he whisiiered f o ihc barber, who sat nei t to him. 
"Pray, sir, who is that man that looks and talks so strangely P" 
"Who should he be," answered the barber, "but the famous Don 
Quixote de laManeha, the redresser of injuries, the righfer of wrongs, 
the protector of maidens, the dread of giants, and tne conqueror of 
battles?" "Why, this is like what we hear in the stories of knight»- 
errant," said the goatherd ; " but I take it either your worship is in 
jest, or the apartments in this gentlemen's skull are unfurnished." 

You are a very great rascal," exclaimed the knight ; " it is yourself 
who are empty-skulled and sbaBow-braincd-, for mine is fuller than 
was ever the head of any of your vile generation!" and as he spoke, 
he snatched xrp a loaf and threw it at the goatherd's face with so mach 
iarj that he laid his nose flat. The goallierd did not much relish the 
jest ; 90 without any respect to the table-cloth or to tl)e company pre- 
sent, he leaped npon Don Quixote, and seizing him by the throat with 
both hands, would doubtless have stranglea him, nad not Sancho 
Panza, wbo came up at that moment, taken him by the shoulders and 
thrown him back on the table-cloch, demohsliing dishes and pkttera, 
and spilling and overturning all that was upon it. Don Quixote find- 
ing himself free, turned upon the goatherd, who, being Kicked and 
trampled npon by Sancho, «as feelii^ about, upon all-fours, fur some 
knife or weapon to lake a bloody revenge witbal : but the canon and 


buffeted so immeioifiillf that be bad ample retaliation 

This hidicroQS enoounter OTCrcame the mmt7 of both the church- 
men, vhile the troopers of the half brotherhood, eiijofiiig the 
conflict, stood QTging on the combataeta, as if it had been a dog- 
fight. Sancho stnugled in taia to release himself fivm one of the 
canon's servants, who prevented bim from going to assist bis mastar 
In the midst of this sport a trumpet was suddenlv heard sounding m 
diamall; that every face was instantly turned in tlie direction whence 
the sound proceeded. Don Quixote's attention was particulul; 
excited, thoogh he atill laj under the gtiatherd in a bruised and bat- 
tered condition. "Tbon devil," he said io bim, "for a devil tbon 
must be to have anch power over me, I beg that tbon wilt grant a 
trace for one hour, as the solemn sound of that tnunpet seems to 
coll me to some new adventure." Tbe goatherd, waose rerenge 
was br this time sated, immediatelj let him go, and Don Quiiota, 
having got upon his legs again, presently saw several people deaoend- 
ing from B rising gninnd, anayed in white, after the manncc oí 

That year th 

sonable showe„, „ ^ . ..^ ,. 

sions, disciplines, and public prayers were ordered, beseeching Heaven 
to show its mercy by sending them rain. For this purpose the 
people of a neighbouring village were coming in procession to a bol^ 
hermitage built uoon the side oí a hill not fax from that spot. The 
strange attire of uie disciplinsnts struck Don Quixote, who, not recol- 
lecting what he must often have seen before, imagined it to be soma 
adventure which, as a knight-errant, was reserved for him alone ; and 
he was conñrmcd in his opinion on seeing an image clothed in black, 
tjiat they carried with them, and which he doubted not, was some 
illustrious lady forcibly borne away bv ruffians and miscreants. With 
all the expedition in his power, he tnerefore went ap to Roiinaote, 
and taking the bridle and buckler from the pommel of the saddle, he 
bridled him in a trice, and calling to Sancho for his aword, he mounted, 
braced his target, and in a loud" voice said to all that were present : 
"Now, my worthy «ompaoions, ye shall see how important to the 
woiid IS the profession of chivalry ! now shall ye see, in the restoration 
of that captive lady to liberty, whether knights-errant are to be valued 
or not I" 

So Sluing, he dapped heels to TUumanie (foe spurs he had noneX 
and on a hand-gallop (for we nowhere read, in all this faithful his- 
toi7, that KoEinante ever went full speed), he advanced to encow- 
tet the diaciplinants. The priest, the canon, and the barber, in vain 
endeavoured to stop him ; and in vain did Sancho cry out, " Whither 

Syou, Signor Don Quixote f What devils drive you to assault the 
tholic faith ? Evil befa] me ! do hut look— it is a procession of dis- 
ciplinants, and the lady carried upon tbe bier is the blessed image oí 
our Holy Virgin : take heed, for this once I am sore you know not 


«bat Ton aie «boot." Sancho vetriedhiimelf to no pateóse; forhú 
M&itaivu M) bent upon an cnconnter, that be heanl not airord: nw 
would be have tnmed back though the Ifnig himaftlf had oomiDanded 

UsTÍiig TtBcbed the proceMÍon^ he 
Taated to rest a little, and in a hoai 
" Stop there, ye who cover mm faeci 
—flop and bit«n to me." The bean 
<me in the four eccletiutio», wbo s 
■tnnfi» figore of Don Qaixot«, the Ic 
Indicnms circnnutances attending tl 
jxm haw anything to m; to tu, aay il 
are scaarging then fleah, and we ca» 
mvf not be said in two words." " 1 
Qnnote : " jon mnst immediately lel 
and Bonowml conntenance clearly i^ 

agamat her will, and that you have done her nine atrocioos injory. 
1, who was born to redress anch wionn, oommand yon, therefore, not 
to proceed one step farther nntil yon uare ^en hn tb« liberty ihe 
demea and deaeiTefi." By these exjvessioiu tbev omoladed that 
Don Qoiiote most be some whimsical madman, and only landed at 
him, which enraged him to such a deoiee that, without saying another 
VOTO, be drew his sword and attacked the bewers : one of whom 
kaving the burden to hia oomiadea, stepped forward, oraadisbing the 
pole on whidi the bier had been supported- bntitwasquicklybrokea 
m two by a powerfnl stroke, umed by tne knight, who, however, 
leoeÍTed mstaittly such a blow on the abonlder of his swonl.Brm that, 
his bnckler being of no avail uMDst Tnstic stiength, he was felled to 
the groand. Sancho, who had followed him, now wUed oat to the man 
not to strike again, for he was a poor enchanted knight, who bad never 
done anybody harm in all his bte. The peasant forbore, it is true, 
thmigh not on acconnt of Saoobo's appeal, but beoanse he saw his 
opponent withont motioD; lod, thinking he had killed him, he 
hastily tucked up his Test under hb giidJe, and fled like » deer ova 
the field. 

By this time all Don Quixote's party bad oome up ; and those in 
the procession, seeing amt»^ them troráers erf the ho^ brotherhood, 
armed with their otoss-bows, befBu to oe alarmed, and drew up in a 
cirde round the image: then lifting up their hoods,* and grasping 
their whips, and the eedesiastics then t^rs, they waited the assault 
determined to defend themselves, or, if possibly ofl'end their a^res- 
SOTS, while Sancho threw himself npon the body of hia master, and 
bdiering ti™ to be really dead, ponred forth the moat dolorons 
lamoitation. The alarm of both sqnadrons was sppcdily dissipated, 
as our CDiate was recognized by one of the tecciesiastics in the pro- 
OBBsion : and, on hearinR from him who Don Quixote was, they all 
hastened to see whether the poor knight bad re^ly suffered a mortal 
Bqury or not ; when they heard Sancho Pania with streaming ayes 
exciami : " O flower of chivaky, who by one sinale stroke bast finished 
the career of thy well-spent life I O glory of thy race, credit and 

■dplinanti i 
le Uinnigh. 

ir hood^ that (hoy may not be known, but (rUab 

renown of Xa Mancha, ^ea, of the whole world, which, by wanting 
thee, will be overmo with enl-doers, who will no longer fear t^tas- 
tJaement for their iníqiuties 1 liber&l abore all jUexandere, since 
for eight months' servioe only thoa baat given me the best island 
that sea doth compass or Eiimnmd ! thou that wmt homble with 
the haughty, and arrogant with the humble, undertaker of dangers, 
sufferer of af&onts, in lore without cause, imitator of the good, 
somirge of the wicked, enemv of the base ; in a word, knight^rrant— 
which ¡a all in all." Sancho s cries roused Don Qniiote, who hiutij 
said, " He who lives absent from thee, sweetest Dulcinea, endorM 
far greater miseries than thia I— Help, friend Sancho, to place tne 
npoQ the enchanted oar : I am no longer in a condition to presa the 
saddleofEoiinant«, for this shoulder IS broken to pieces." "That I 
will do with all W.J heart, dear air," answered Sancho ; " and let ns 
return to onr homes with these gwitlemen, who wish you well; 
and there we can prepare for another saJly, Ibat mav turn ont more 
profitable." "Thou sayeat well, Sancho," answered Don Quiiote, 

'and it will be highly prudent in us to wait until the evil infiuenoe of 
the star which now reigns is passed over." The canon, the priest, 
and tiie barber, told him they approved his resolution: and tJie 
knight being now placed in the waggon, as before, they prepared 
to depart. 

The goatherd took his leave : and the troopers, not being disposed 
to attend them farther, were oisohuged. The canon also separated 
from them, having ñrsi obtained a promise from the priest that he 
would acquaint him with the future fate of Don Quiiote. Thna the 
party now consisted only of the priest, the barber. Don Qaiiote, and 
Sancho, with good Rozmante, «ho bore all accidents as patiently as 
his master. The wogtconer yoked his oxen, and, having accommo- 
dated Don Quiiote witli a truss of hay, they jof^fed on in the w^ 
the priest directed ; and at the end of six davs reached Don Quixote's 
village. It was ^Kiut noon when they made their entrance; and, it 
beii^ Sunday, all the people were standing about the market-plaoe, 
through which the waggon passed. Everybody ran to see who was 
in it, and were not a Bttle auiprised when they recognized their 
townsman ; and a boy ran off at mil speed with tidings to the boose- 
keeper, that he was coming home, lean and pale, stretched out at 
length in a waggon drawn by oxen. On bearing this, the two Kood 
women made tne most patucCio lamentations, and renewed tneir 
curses against books of chivalry; especially when they saw the poor 
knight entering the gate. 

Upon the news of Don Quixote's arrival, Sancho Panza'n wife 
repaired thither, and on meeting him, her first inquiry was whether 
the ass bad come home well. Suicho told her that he was in a bett«r 
condition than his master. "The lord be praised," replied she, "for 
M great a mercy to me 1 But tell me, husband, what good have yoa 
got by yonr squireship ? Have yon brought a petticoat home for m^ 
And shoes for vonr children F" " I have Drought you nothing of thai 
•ort, dear wife," quoth Sancho; "but I have aot other things of 
irreator consequence." "lam very glad of that,' answered the wif^ 

pray show me your tbinga of greater eonwmuenoe, friend; for I 
would fain see them, to gladden my heut which has been so sad, all 
the long time you have been away." " Yoa shall see them at home. 

wife," qQotli Sancho, "and be satisSed nt present; for if it olease 
God titit we make uiother sail; in quest of ádventures, ;ou will soon 
see me an earl of governor or an island, and no common one either, 
W one of the best that is to be had." " Grant heaven it maj be so, 
hosb*iui,"quoth the wife, "for we have need enough of it. £atprar 
lell me what jou mean bj islands ; for I do not understand fou. 
" Honey i» not for the mouth of an asg," answered Sandio : " in good 
time, wife, f ou sliall sea, yea, and admire to hear yourself styled lady- 
ship by ail your vassals. " Wliat do you mean, Sancho, by htdysliip, 
itluuls, and vassals ? " answered Teresa Panza, for that was the namfl 
of Sancho's wif^ though they were not of iin, but because it was the 
enstomofXAUanetiaior the wife to take the husband's name. "Do 
n«t be in so moeh baste, Teresa," said Sancho ; it is enough that 1 
toll you what is true, so lock up vour mouth ; — only take this by the 
way, that there is nothing in tne world so pleasant as to be an 
honoorable esquire to a kmglit-errant, and seeker of adventures. To 
be sure most of them are not so much to a nun's mind as be eould 
wish ; for, as I know by experience, mnety-nine out of a hundred taH 
li and unlucky ; especially when one happens to be tossed in 

a blanket, or well cudgelled ; vet, for all that, it is a Sne thing' tc 
abfHit in expectation of acciaeote, traversing mountaios, searching 
rching over rocks, visiting castles, lodging in iims, alln 

pleasiue, and the devil a farthing t( . , 

'Whüe this discourse was passing between Saacho Pania and hia 
wife Teresa, tbe housekeeper and the niece received Don Quixote, 
and, after undieasing him, they laid him in his old bed, whence he 
looked at them with eyes aakauct not knowing perfectly where he 
was. Often did the women raise their voices in abuse of all books of 
cliivaliy, overwhelming their authors with the bitterest maledictions. 
His niece was chained by tbe priest to take great care of hi 
' ' ' ' ' " that hr '-' --' ----- — ■— "■-'- - 

^ ^ J) get i 

heuaons lest they shoiUdlose him again k 
Uttle better; and ii ' ^" 

But the author of this bistory, thoogh he applied himself with 
the utmost curiosity and diligence to trace the exploits which 
Don Quixote perfonned in his third sally, could get no account of 
them, at least from any authentic writmgs: fame has only left a 
tradition in La Mancha that Don Quixote, the third time he sallied 
from home, went to Saiagossa, and was present at a famous touma- 
m^it in that city, where he performed deeds worthy of himself. Nor 
would he have learned anything concerning his death, had be not 
fortunately beoomo acquainted with an ^ed physician, who bad in his 
custody a leaden box, found, as he said, under the ruins oían ancient 
hermitage ; in which box was discovured a manuscript, written on 
parchment, in Gothic characters, but in Castiliaa verse, containing 
many of bis exploits, and de^cribingthe beauty of DiUcineadel Toboso, 
the form of Rocinante, tbe fldebty of Sancho Pania, and the burial uf 
Don Quixote himself, with sevend epitaphs and eulogies on his life 
and habits. All that could be read, and perfectly made out, ore here 
jnaerted by tbe faithful author of this most extraordinary history, who 
desires no other recompense for the vast labour he has bestowed in 
tfyiitiins into ÚiB uchivea of La Maiuha, than that this work may 
,, ..A.OOgIC 

a74 BOK qmxoTE. 

find eqnsl favour \tilh otUer books of knight -«rrantry: mih this he 
wili ht quite aalisfied, aod moreover encouraged to seek after others, 
that may be quite as entertaining, though not so true. Ihe first 
stiinzas written on the parohmeut whicfi waa found m the leaden 
boi, were the following ;— 



HsnchA'B tbunderlMlt ot war, 

Ths Bba>rpeBt wit and lo^iest mute. 
The arm which Ccm GaEIa far 

To Cttttu did its force dilfii™ ; 
Ho who, through lova and valour's fire, 

Outstript gr«at AiDBdis's fame, 
Eid warlike Unlaor retira. 

And Bilenced Belianis' niune : 
He who, with helmet, «word, and shield, 

On Rocinante, steed wall known, 
Advenlnrea fought In many n field. 

Lie* Dndamealh thi^ inaea ituns. 


liiir Dulcinea, ofT 
Tor her, ortn'd cap-^-pío with sword and shield. 

He trod the «able mountflin o'er nnd o'er ; 
7or her be tnivora'd Mnntiel'i well-known field. 

And in her sarrice toils unniunber'd bore. 
Hard fate ! that death should crop so fine a fiower I 
And love o'er such a knight e>:ert bia tyniot power I 







On the aap 
tautio with 

Hng adamantine tnmt 
0, whoso root, with slanghter drunk, 
, scent of wiir. La Miinchu'a knight, 
vtiloui. and return 'd liuni fi^bt. 


Hit bloody ahitidard trembliD^ in the air, 

Hangs itp his glitMrinc anuoiir bciuQini^ tar. 

With Cbat fina-tampor d steel whoso odgo o'erthrowa 

U Amadis to Ureeia givBB njnown, 
Much mors her chief duoa fieros B«UuDa crown. 
PrÍEÍni^ Lft M&ncba more than Gaul or Qrceco, 

ObliviüD nc'or shall ahroud Ma glDrioos nuoe, 
Whose very borsa stands up to challenjte lum^ 
Illuatnous RoiiuDJite, woad'roQs etoedl 

matUeil speed. 

PolloBing his lord from placo tO place. 
To be an earl he did nspire. 
And reason good for such deaíre, 
But worth, in these ungisiatul times. 
To envied honour seldom citmb». 
Vain mortnls ! ((i™ Jour wishe» o'er. 
And trast the tlatterer ilopu no mure. 
Whose promises, wbiitt'er they seem, 
End in a ibadow or & dream. 

CAcanatwa, acueiocun oí irsauabilu, on ths befdltcu o> 

Here tiaa an ovil-ertaat knifcht. 
Well bruised in m.iuy a fmv. 

Whoso courser. Iluminante hiylit. 
Long boro him auuiy a wíxy. 

Close hv bis lorinj? numtor's side 

Lica booby Sancbo Paiiz^i, 
A trusty squire of coumge towl, 

. I, Google 



Of goodly nrentAge alie came. 
And nad the la^ in ber ¡ 

8ba «BB the srent Don Quiiote'i Same, 
But onlf death could «in her. 

Theae vere aU the Terses that were leíble : the remAJuder, being 
mnch defaced and worm-eaten, were put into the bonds of one of the 
Academicians, tliat be might discover their meanin); b^ conjectare ; 
which, ftfter much thouRht and labour, we are informed he hasactuallr 
done, nod that he intends to publisb them, in the hope of Dt» 
Quixote's third sallp. 

" Fone altro coAtor^ oon mi^lior plectro-'* 

UignieUb, Google 


VzMLT, reader, gentle m ample— wlmterer thon art, with what 
fanpatienee must tboa now be wuting for this Preface 1 — doubtless 
prepared to find it full oí resentment, railing, and inTectiro against 
the aothor of the second Don Quixote— Lim I mean who, the world 
•afs, was begotten in Dordesülas and bom in Tarragona, fiat in 
truth, it is not my intention to give thee that satisfaotion ; for, though 
injniies are apt to awaken aholer in the liumblest breas^ yet in mioe 
tUa nde most admit of an eioeplioa. Perhaps thon wonldst liave me 
' n, and coxoomb ; bnt no :— be his own foil; hii 

Here ii one thii^, towerer, wWch I cannot pass otop in silence. 
I am gtiilty, it seems, of being old ; and it is also proved upon me 
that I have lost mj hand I as if I bad the power to arrest the progress 
of time ; and tbat this maim was the effect of some tavern brawl, and 
not received on the noblest occasion* tbat past or present times have 
witnessed, or the fotore can ever hope to see ! If m; wounds be 
disregarded by those who simply look on them, thej wul be liononred 
hf those who know how they were gained; fw a soldier makes a 
nobler figare dead, in tiie field of battle, than aliv^ Sjiog from hia 
enemy; and so firmly fixed am I in this opinion that^coidd the impcs- 
sibUty be overeóme, and I had the power t{) choose, I would rathex 
be again present in that stupendons action than whole and sonnd, 
without sharing in its glory. The scan on the front of a brave 
soldier are stars that direct others to the haven of honour, and create 
in them a noble emulation. Let it be remembered, too, that books 
are not composed by the hand, but by the ondentanding, which is 
ripened by experience and length of years. 

I have also heard that this anthor oalls me envious ; and, moreover, 
in consideration of my ignoiance, kindly describes to me what envy 
is !~In tmlh, the only envy of which I am conscious is a noble, vir- 
tuous, and holy emulaticm, which would never dispose me to inveigh 

* Th* fiunoDi Ha-fii^t of Lepaoto. 



against an ecclesiastic ; especially, against one who holds a dignified 
rank in the Inquisition ; and if lie has been influenced bj his zeal for 
the person* to whom he seems to allude, be is utterly mistaken in 
my sentiments ; fot I revere that geotleman's genins, and admire his 
works, and his virtnous aclivity. KcTertheless, I cannot refose my 
acknowledgment to this worth; author, for his commeulatioD of my 
novels, which, he says, are good, although more satirical than moral ; 
but how thej happen to be good, yet deficient in morality, it would 
be difficult t« show. 

Mcthinks, reader, thou wilt confess that I proceed with much for- 
bearance and modesty, from a feeling that we should not add to the 
sofferings of the affiicted ; and that this gentleman's caee mort ba 
lamentable, is evident from his not daring to appear in open day: 
ooneealing his name and his country, as if some treason or othe> 
crime were upon his conscience. Snt sliooldst thon by chance hU 
into bis company, teU him, from me, that I do not think myaelf 
■Kgriered ; for I well know what the temptations of the devil tat, 
and that one of the greatest is the persuading a man that he can 
write a book by which he will surely gain both wealth and fame; and, 
to illustrate the truth of this, pray tell bim, in thy pleasant way, the 
following story ^— 

"A madman once, in Seville, was seized with as whimsical a conceit 
as eror entered into a madman's brain. He provided himself with a 
tx^low cane, pointed at one end, and whenever be met with a dog in 
the street or elsewhere, he laid hold of him, set his foot <m one of hia 
hinder lega, and seizing the other in his hand, dexterously applied the 
pointed end of the cane to the dog's posteriors, and blew him op >■ 
round as a ball; then giving his inflated body a slap or two with the 
palm of his hand, be let him go, saying to the bystanders, who were 
always numerous, 'Welt, gentlemen, I suppose you think it an euj 
inatt«rto blownpad<%F' And you, sir, pe^pa, may think it an 
easy matter to writ« a book." If this story diould not h^ipen to hit 
his fancy, pray, kind reader, tell bim this other, which b Hkewiae of a 
madma& tmd a dc^ ¡-^ 

" In the city of Cordoro lived another nüanjao, whose onstom w» 
to walk about the streets with a large stone upon bis bead, of no 
inconsiderable weight; and wherever he met with anycardeaa oar, 
he edged sKly towards him, and when quite close, let the stone fall 
plump upon his body; whereupon the dog, in great wrath, limped 
away, barking and howlmg, for more than three streets' length, 
witbont onoe kN^ing behind him. Now it happened, that aaHOg 

* LopatUTag». 


other do^, be net with one that belonged to a cap-maker, M'ho 
Tfthiid him mightily ; down went the stone, and hit hiia exactly on 
the head ; the poor animal cried out ; his master, seeing the act, waa 
CDragEct, and, catching np his meaanrini^'yard, fell upon the ntadnian, 
and left him with scarcely a vhole bone in his skin ; at every blow 
Tenting hie furj in reproaches, saying, ' Dog ! rogue ! rsEcal I What ! 
maltreat mj dos 1— a apaniel ! Did you not see, barbarian ! that my 
doe was a spaniel?' and after repeating- the word 'spaniel' very often, 
he dismissed the culprit, beaten to a jolly. The madman took his 
correction in silence, and walked qS; cor did he show himself again 
in the market-phice till more than a month afterwards, when he 
nrtaraed to his former amusement, with a still greater stone upon his 
head. It was obserred, however, thai on coming up to a dog, he first 
carefully snrreycd it from head to tail, and not daring to let the stone 
fall, he said, "Ware spaniel !— this won't do.' In short, whatever 
dog he met with— terrier, mastiff, or hound— they were all spaniels; 
and so great was his dread of committing another mistake, that be 
never ventured to let fall his slab again." Thus warned, perhaps, 
our historian may think it necessary, before he again leta &11 the 
ponderóos wei^t of his wit, to look and examine where it is likely to 

Tell him also, that as to his threatening, by his counterfeit wares, 
to deprive me of my expected gtun, I value it not a rush, and will 
only answer him from the famous interlude of Forendcnga — " Long 
live roy lord and master, and Heaven be with ns all ! Long live the 
great Comit de Lemos; whose well-known liberality supports me 
under all the strokes of adverse fortone ; and all honour and praise 
to the eminent bounty of his grace the archbishop of Toledo, Bernardo 
de Sandoval! and let them write against me as many books as there 
are letters in the rhymes of Mingo Rebutgo. These tvo nobles, 
nntonght by adulation on my part, but merely of their own goodness, 
have taken upon them to patronise and favour me; vherefore I 
esteem myself happier and richer than if fortune, by her ordinal; 
means, had placed me on her highest pinnacle. Such honour the i 
mnitorions, not the vicious, may aspire to, although oppressed by 
poverty. The noble mind may be clouded by adversity, but cannot 
be wholly concealed : for true merit shines by a light of its own, and,, 
Simmering through the rents and crannies of indigence, is perceive^ 
respected, and honoured by the generous and the great." 

More than this, reader, thou ueodst not say to him ; nor wiU 1 laj 

more to thee, except merely observing, for thy information, that this 

Second Fart of Don Quixote, here offered to thee, is cut by the same 

band, and out of the same pisecv u the First Fart; and that herein 



I present thee witti Don Quixote whole and entire : having placed 
him in bia giare at full length, and fairlj dead, that do one mej pré- 
same to expose bia to nev adventurea, since he has achieved enongh 
airead;. It is sufficient that Lis ingenióos follies have been recorded 
b; a writer of credit, vho has resolved to t«ke np the subject no 
more ; for we maj be surfeited hr too mneh of what is good, and 
Bcareit]r gives a relish to what is onl; indifferent. 

I had fo^otten to tell the« that thou majst soon expect the Per- 
silcs, whidi I have nearly complete, and also the second part of the 

UignieUb, Google 


Gn> Eaxbt Bekeiigeli lelstes, in the second part of this histotj, 
containing the third sail; of Don Qaixote, that the priest nod the 
barber refrained during a whole month from seeing him, lest the; 
■houtd revive in his mind the remembrance of things past. However, 
thef paid frequent visits to the niece and hoosekeeper, charging them 
to take great care of him, aad to give him good nourishmg cLet, aa 
that would be salutary to his heart and his brain, «hence all the mis- 
chief proceeded. The good vomea assured them of their continual 
care of tlie patient, and said thej occasionall; observed in liitn symp- 
toms of returning reason. The priest and the barber were greatly 
pleased to hear ttita, and congratulated themselves on the success oí 
the scheme they had adopted of bringing bim home enchanted in the 
ox-waggon, as it is related in the last chapter of the first part of this 
noless great than accurate historv. They resolved, therefore, to visit 
bim, ana make trial of his amenihnent : at the same time, thmking it 
scarcely possible that his cnie could be complete, they a^eed not h> 
tODch upon the rabject of knight-errantry, lest they nugbt open a 
wonnd which ninst yet be so tender. 

They found him sitting on his bed, clad in a waistcoat of green 
baize, with a red Toledo cap on his head, and so lean and shrivelled 
that he looked like a mummy. He received them with much polite- 
ness, and when they ioqnired after his henlth, he answered them in a 
very sensible manner, and with mnch elegance of expression. In the 
conive of their conversation they touched upon matters of state and 
forms of government, correcting this abuse and condemning that, 
reforming ons coatoro and exploding another: each of the three '. 
setting himself ap for s perfect legislator, a modem Lycargus, or a 
■pick-and-span new Solon; and, by their joint eflbrts, they seemed to 
have dapped the commonwealth into a forge, and h&nimered it into 
qoite a new shape. Don Qniiote delivered himself with so mnch 
good sense upon every subject thev had tonched upon, that the two 
examiners were inclined to think teat he was now really in full pos- 
■esüon of all hi» mental bcnlties. The niece and the housekeeper 
, , . .A.OOgIC 

SSS DON quixora. 

were present at the conversation, and, hearing from their mosteT snoh 

S roofs of a sound mind, ihougLt Ibey could never sufficiently thank 
[eaveii. Tbe priest, changing his former purpose of not toucliing 
upon matters of chivalry, was now resolved to put the question of 
bis amendment fairi^ to the test: be therefore mentioned, among 
other ihin;:3, some inlclligence lately brought from court, that the 
Turk was advancii^ with a powerful fleet and that, his object beii^ 
unknown, it naa impossible to say where the storm would burst ; that 
all Cbristcndom was in great alurm, and that tbe kinx had already 
provided for the security of ffapies, Sicily, and the island of Malta. 
To Ibis Don Quixote replied; "His majesty has acted with great 
nrodence in proridmg in time for the defence of his dnmiujons, that 
he may not be taken by surprise; but, if my counsel might be taken, I 
would adrise him to a measure which, probably never yet entered into 
his majesty's mind." On hearing this the priest said wiihin himself: 
"Heaven defend tliee, poor Don Quiiote! for mclhinks Ibou art 
about to fall from the summit of tliv madness into the depth of 
foUy!" Tbe barber, nho iiad made the same reflection, now asked 
Don Quixote what the measure was which he thought would be so 
advantageous ; though, in all prolkibility, it was like the impertinent 
advice usually given to princes. " Mine, Mr. Shaver," answered Don 
Quiiote, " shall not be impertinent, but to the purpose," " I mean 
no offence." replied the baruer, " only eiperienoe has shown that all, 
or most of the projects so offered to his majestj; are either imprac- 
ticable, absurd, or prejudicial to himself or hia lungdom." " Trne," 
answered Don Quiiote ; " but mine is neither impracticable aot 
absurd ; but the most easy, the most just, and also trie most reaton- 
able and expeditious, that ever entered the mind of a projector." 
" Signor Don Quixote," quoth the priest, "you keep us loo long in 
suspense," " I do not choose," repfied Don Quiioto, " that it should 
be tohl here now, that another may carry it by daybreak to tbe lord) 
of the privy-council, and thereby intercept the reward which is only 
doe to me, "I give you my word," said the barber, "here and 
before UeAven, that I will not reveal what yonr worship shall say, 
either to king, or to look, or to any mortal man — an oath wbicb I 
learned from the romance of the priest, where he sives the king infor- 
mation of tbe thief that robbed him of the honiued pistóles and his 
ambling mule." " I know not the history," said Don Quiiote ; " but 
I presume the oath is a good one, becanse I am persuaded master 
Wber is an honest man. *' Though he were not, said tbe priort^ 
" I will pledge myself for bim, ana engage, under any penalty mn 
please, that he shall be as silent as the dumb on this afiau;." And 
who will be bound for your reverence, maater priest?" said Don 
Quixote. " My profession," answered the priest ; " which enjoins 
Koresy as an indispensable duty." "Body of mel" cried Dcñ 
Quixote ; *' has his majesty anytmng to do, bat Co issue a proclama- 
tion ordering all the knights-errant, who are now wandering about 
Spain, to repair, on an appointed day, to coart ? If not more than 
half a doien came, there might be one of that number able, with hia 
■ingle arm, to destroy the whole power of the Turk. Pray, gwitie- 
men, be attentive, and lisl«n to me. Is it anything new for a single 
knigbt-errant to defeat an army of two hundred thousand men, as if 
they had all but one throat, or were made of pastry? How msny 
cumples of such prove» does bistoiysnppljr If, in an erillu^ 


for me (I wül not soy for any other), the famous Don Beliiiiiis, or 
aome one of the nnmeroua race of Amadis de Qaul, uerc in bciiijg 
■t this day to confront the Turk, in good faith I would not farm his 
wmnings 1 But tkid will protect hia people, and provide some one, if 
not aa strong as the knigbta -errant oí old, at least not inferior to 
them in courage. Heaven knows my meaning ; I sav nf. mnrp i " 
"Alas!" eiclaimed the n* — -* "■■- -— '— ■ " 

can raise — once more, 1 say, Heaven knows my meaoing." " Gentle- 
men," said the barber, " give me leave to tell you a short story of 
what happened once in Seville; for it comes so pat to the parase 
that I cannot help giving it to yon." Don Quixote and the priest 
BÍgnifled their consent, and the others being willing to hear, be began 

" A certain man bebg deranged in his intellects, was placed by his 
relations in the mad-honse of Seville. He had taken his degrees in 
Üie canon law at Ossuna ' bnt, had it been at Salamanca, many are of 
Opinion he would, nevertheless, have been mad. This graduate, after 
some years' confinement, took into his head that he was quite in hi> 
right senses, and therefore \mjte to the archbishop, beseeching him, 
with great earaeatneaa Mid apparentiv with much reason, that be 
vronld be pleased to deliver him from tnat miserable state of confine- 
ment in which he Uved; since, throuifh the mercy of Qod, he had 
renined hia senses ; adding thai hia relations, in order to enjoy part 
of his estate, kept him still tliere, and in spite of the dearest evidence, 
would insist upon hia being mad as long as he lived. The archbishop, 
prevailed upon by the many sensible epistles he received from him, 
sent one of nis chaplains to the keeper of the to inquire 
i^o the trutb of what the licentiate had alleged, and also to talk 
with him, and if it appeared that he was in hia senses, to set him at 
hliertv. The chaphun accordingly went to the rector, who assiired 
him tnat the man was still insane, for though he sometimes talked 
very sensibly, it waa seldom for any length of time without betraying 
his deraiigement ; as he would certainly find on conversing with Dim. 
Tbe chapudn determined to make the trial, and during the conversa- 
tion of more than an hour, could perceive no symptom of incoherence 
in his discourse : on the contrary, he spoke with so much sedateness 
and judgment that the chaplain couli not entertain a doubt of the 
Bsnity of his intellects. Amonjf other thinjfs he assured him that the 
keeper waa bribed by his relations to persist in reuorting him to be 
deranged ; so that his large estate was üis great misfortune, to enjoy 
which his enemiea had recourse to fraud, and pretended to doubt df 
the mercy of Heaven in restoring him from the condition of a bmt« 
to that of a man. In short, he talked so planaibly that he made the 
lector appear venal and corrupt, his relations unnatural, and himself 
so discreet that the chaplain determined to take him immediately to 
the archbishop, that he might be satisfled he had done right. With 
tilia resolution the good chaplain desired the keeper of the house to 
ROttnv to him the ctethes which he wore when he was first pat under 
his care. The keeper again desired him to beware what he did, since 
hs mi^t be aMOted that the licentiate was still insane; bnt the 
ohaplam wa> not to be nurred atbst bj hia caotiona or enbestíesj 


Mid as he acted b; order of the archbishop, the keeper was aoin< 

pelled to ober bim. The licentiate put on bis new clothes, and now. 
flnding himself rid of his lunatic attire, and habited like a rational 
creature, he entreated the chaplain, for charit)''« sake, to pennii him 
to take leave of his late compiinions in affictioQ. Being aesirous of 
seeing: the lunatics who were confined in tliat honse, the chaplajn, 
irith several other persons, followed bim apstairs, and heard him 
accost a man who luy stretched in a cell, outraf eouslj; mad, though 
just then composed and nuiet. 'Brother,' said he to him, 'hare jou 
anf commands for me P for I am going to return to m? own house, 
God having been pleased, of His infinite goodness and mercy, without 
any desert of mine, to restore me to mv eeoses. I am now sound awl 
well, for with God nothine is impossible : put yoor whole trust and 
confidence in Him, and He will doubtksa restore you also. I will 
Ulte care to send you some choice food ; and fail not to eat it : for I 
Lave reason to believe, from ray own experience, that all our (Uslno- 
tion proceeds from empty stomachs, ana brains filled with wmd. Take 
hearty then, my friend, take heart ; for despondeacc under Diisfortime 
impairs our health, and hastens our death/ This discouree was over- 
heard by another madman, the tenant of an opposite cell, who, rising 
from an old mat, whereon he had been lying ataik naked, asked who 
it was that talked of going away restored to his senses. 'It is I, 
brother, that am going,' answered the licentiate j ' for, thanks to 
Heaven, my stay here is no longer neeessarv.* ' 'Take heed, friend, 
what yoQ aay,' replied the maniac ; ' let not tne devil delude you : stir 
not a foot, but keep wliero you are, and vou wilt Bpare yourself the 
trouble of being brought back.' ' I know, answered the other, ' that 
I am perfectly well, and sh^ have no more occasion to visit the 
station churches.'" 'You well, truly F' said the madman; 'weshall 
soon see that. Farewell ! but I swear by Jupiter, whose mtyesty I 
represent on earth, that for this single oScncc of setting thee at larg^ 
and pronouncing thee to be in thy sound senses, 1 am determined t4) 
indict such a signal punishment on this city, that the memory thereof 
shall endure for ever and ever. And knowst thou not, pitiful fellow, 
that 1 ba\ e the power to do it P 1, who am the thundermg Jove, ana 
erasp in my hands the flaming bolts with which I might instantly 
destroy the world!— but, remitting that punishment, 1 will chastise 
their folly by closing the floodgates of heaven, so that no rain shall 
fidl upon this city or the surrounding country for three years, reckon- 
ing from this very day and hour on which my vengeance is denounced. 
Tfou at liberty ! you recovered, and in your right senses ; and I here 
a madman, distempered, and in bonds! — I will no more rain than I 
will hang myself.' This rhapsody was heard by all present, and our 
licentiattL turning to the cliaphun, 'My good sir,' said he, seixing 
bolh his hands, ' regard not his foolish threats, but be perfectly easy: 
for should he, being Jupiter, withhold his rain, I, who am Keptun^ 
the god of water, can dispense ss much as I please, and whenever 
there shall be occasion." To which the chaplam answered, ' Nevor- 
theless, Signor Keptune, it would not be wdl at present to provoke 
Signor Jupiter : therefore, I beseech you, remúc where you are, and 
when we have more leisure, and a better opportunity, we will return for 

* CertÚD churches with mdulgenoea, ^pointed to be visitad either for 
pardon ol uns, or for piocnrilig bleadngs. 


munediateV disrobed, aitd he lemained in confioement : and there ia 
an end of my atory." 

"This then, master barber," raid Don Quixote, "is the storr which 
*as so much to the purpose that van could not forljear Wllmg it ? 
Ah ! si^nor cat-beardl signor cut-beard ! he most be blind indeed 
who cannot see thronah a aiere. Is it possible ;ou should be ignorant 
tltat comparisons of all kinds, whether as to sense, courage, beaut;, or 
rank, are dways offensive F I, master barber, sm not Neptune, god 
of the waters: nor do I set myself up for a wise man; alii aim at is 
to convince the world of its error in not reviving tliose happy timea 
when the order of knight-errantry flourished. But this our degene- 
rate age deserves not to enjoy so great a blessiug as that which «as 
the boast of former ages, when knights- errant toiak upon themselves 
the defence of kingdoms, the protection of orphans, the relief of 
damsels, the chastisement of the haughtv, and the reward of the 
humble. The knights of these times rustle in damasV and brocade, 
rather than in coats of mail. Where is the kuisht now who will iie 
ki the open field, exposed to the rigour of tlie bcavens, in complete 
srmonrrrom head to footP Or, leaning on hia lance, take a short 
nap without quitting hisstirrups, like the knights-errant of old times? 
ITou have no one now who, issuing out of a forest, ascends some 
Dionntoia, and thence traverses a barren and desert shore of the sea, 
commonly stormy and tempestuous ; and, finding on the beach a, small 
akiff, withoat oara, sail, mast, or tackle of any kind, he boldly throws 
himself into it. committing himself to the implacable billows of the 
deep ocean, which now mount him up to the skies, and tlieu cast bira 
down to the abyss : and he, opposing his courage to the irresistible 
iurricane, suddenly Ends himself above three thousand leagues from 
the place where he embarked; and, leaping on the remote aod un- 
known shore, encounters accidents worthv to be recorded, not on 
parchment, bat on brass. But in these oays, sloth triumphs over 
activity, idleness over labour, vice over virtue, arrogance over oraverj, 
and the theory over the practice of arms, which only existed ana 
flonrished with knights-errant in those ages of gold, 'or, tell me, I 
-ray, where was there so much valonr and virtue to be found as in 
-imadis de Gaul? Who was more discreet tfiat Palmerin oflinglandP 
Who more affable and oblking than Tirante the White ? Who more 
gallant than Lisuarte of Greece P WTio gave or received more cuts 
and slashes that Don Belianis P Who was more intrepid than Perion 
of Gaul P Who more enterprising than reliimarte of Hyrcauia F 
Who more sincere than EsplandianP Who more daring than Don 
Cirongilio of Thrace P Who more brave than Hodamonte ? Who 
Biore prudent than Kmg Sobrino P Who more intrepid than Rinaldo? 
Who more invincible than Orlando P — and who more gallant and 
oourteons than Bui^ierio, from whom, aecoriiing to Turpm's Cosmo- 
graphy, the present dukes of Ferrara are descended? All these, and 
C^ers that leonld name, master priest, were knights-errants, and tho 
bght of chivalry ; and such as these are the men I would advise hb 
majesty to employ. He then would he well served, a vast expense 
wonid De spared, and the Turk might go tear his beard for very mad- 
ness : so now I will stay at home, since the chaplain does not fetch 
iM ont ; and, if Jupiter u detcsmined to vitbbola bis nm, here am I, 


who will nia vbeoejet I think proper — goodman basin will see that 
I understand him." 

" In truth, Signer Don Quixote," said the barber, " I meant no 
harm in n-hat I said, so help me God : therefore your worslup ought 
not to take it amiss." " Whetiier 1 ought or not, said DonQnJiotí^ 
" is best known to m^elf." " Well," said the pnest, " thou^ I h»w 
;et scarcely spokeiL I should be ver; glad to reUeve my consdesM 
of a scruple which has been started by what Signor Don Quixote jost 
now said." " You may command me, BÍgnor curate, in such matters," 
answered Don Quixote, "out then with your scruple: for there can 
be no peace with a scrupulous conscíenoe." " With this licenM^ 
then," said the curate, " 1 must fell you that I can by no loeaiis put- 
suade myself that the multitude of knights-errant your worship hu 
mentioned were really and truly persons of flesh and blood eustiiu 
in the worlil ; on tbe contrary, I imagine that the accounts given ¿t 
them ore all fictions and dream^invented by men awake, or to apeak 
more properly, half asleep." " This is a common mistake," antrwered 
Don Quixote, " which I have, upon sundry occasions, and in 01907 
companiea, endeavoured to correct. Sometimes I have failed in my 
attempts, at other times succeeded, beinx founded on the basia m 
truth : for I can almost say these eyes have seen Amodis de Giaul, 
who was toll of stature, of a fair complexion, witli a well-set beard, 
though black ; his aspect being mild and stem ; a man of few words, 
not easily provoked, and soon pacified. And as I have described 
Amadis, so, methinks, I could paint and delineate every knigb^errant 
recorded in all the histories in the world. For I feel such confidence 
in the accuracy of their historians that I find it easy, from their 
exploits uid character, to form a good philosophical guess at tlieir 
features, their complexions, and their stature." " Pray, Signor Don 
Quixote," quoth tlie barber, " what sire do you think Ihe giaut Mor- 
eante misbt have been P " "As to the matter of ^iauts, answered 
Don Quixote, " though it has been a controverted pomt, whether thay 
reslly existed or not, the Holy Scriptures, which cannot deviate a 
titile from truth, prove their reality in the histoiy of that huge Philis- 
tine Goliath, who was seven cubits and a hslf hlsli— a prodigious 
statme! Besides, in the island of Sicily there have oecu found thiglt 
and shoulder bones so large that it is evident those to whom they 
beloui-ed were giauts, tall as Lofty steeples, which may be ascertained 
beyond all doubt hy the rules of geometry. Ñevertüeless, I cannot 
precisely tell you what were the dimensions of Morgante, although I 
am inchned to beheve that he was not extremely tall : because i find, 
in the hislory wherein his achievements are particularly mentioned, 
that lie often slept under a roof; and since he found a house which 
could contain him, it is plain he was not himself of an immeasniable 
iize." " That is true," quoth the priest; who, being amused with his 
solemn extravagance, asked his opinion of the persons of Riualdo of 
Kloatalvan, Orlando, and the rest of the twelve peers of Franoe, since 
they were all knishta-erront. " Of Hinaldo," ansrtercd Don Quixote, 
" 1 dai-e boldly attirm, he was broad-faced, of a ruddy complexiot^ 
rolling eyes, and somewhat prominent, punctilious, choleric to an 
excc!>s, and a friend to robbers and proáigates. Ut' lloldau, or Koto- 
lando, or Orlando (for history gives him all these nauie.s). Ibclieve^ 
and will maintain, that he was of middle stature, broad-shouldered, 
rather bandy-legged, biovn-complexioned, carroty-bearded, haiiy- 

sahcho'b visit. S87 

D aspect, sparing in Bpceoh, yet conrteoiu and 

mdo," repLod the priest, " was not more comelj 
than Tou have described him, no wonder that my Lady An^elies 
the Fait disdained and forsook him for the grace, sphgbtiuiess, 
and gailantcy of the smooth-faced little Moor; and she was dis- 
creet in preferring the softness of Medont to the roughness of 

ft paltry beardless patee, without estate, and with no other reputation 
Üat what he acquired from his Rrateful fidehty to his friena, Eveu 
the great eitoller of her beauty, the famous Ariosto, either not 
daring, or not caring, to celebrate what befel this ladv after her low, 
iotrigóe, the snlqect not being over delicate, left net with tbese 

"Poets are called 'vates,' that is to say, 'diviner»;' and certainly 

these lines were prophetic : tor since that time a famous Andalasiaa 
poet" has bewailed and sung her tears ; and her beauty has been 
celebrated by a Caatilian poett of extraordinary merit." And pray 
tell me, Sipnor Don Quixote, said the barber, " amoi^ many who 
have sung her praises, has no poet written a satire upon this Lady 
Aiuteliea?" I verily believe," answered Don Quiiote, "that if 
Orlando or Sacripanta had been poets, the; would lon^ ago have 
settled that account ; for it is not uncommon with poeta, disdained or 
rejected by their mistresses, to retaliate by satires and lampoons ; — 
a species of revenge certainly unworthy a generous spirit ; but 
hitherto I have not met with any defamatory verses against the Lad; 
Angelica, although she was the author of so mnch mischief in the 
world," "Marvellous indeed!" siúd the priest. At this moment, 
they were interrupted by a noise in the courtyard; and hearing the 
niece and housekeeper vociferating aloud, they hastened to learn the 


LooKreo out of the window, DonQoiiote, the priest, and the barber, 
saw the niece and housekeeper engaged in defending the door ai,-ainst 
Sancho Punza, who came to nay his master a visit. " Fl'IIoít, fret 
home ! " said one of them, " what have vou to do here ? It is by von 
our master is led aslray and carried rambling about the country, like 
a vagabond." " Thou devilish housekeeper ! " retorted Sancho, " it 
* Louis Bambona de Soto. -t Lope de Vegn. 


ia I that nn lea astr&y, and carried rambling up and down the high- 
ways; and it was four master that led me tnia dance:— so there tou 
are quite mistaken. He teinpted me from home with promises oE aa 
island, wtach. I still hope for. " Mav the cursed islands choke thee, 
wretch!" answered the niece; "and pray, what are islandsf Are 
they anything eatable F— elntton, cormorant as thou art ! " " Thejr 
are not to be eaten," replied Sancho, "_but povemed, and are better 
things than any tour cities, or four justiceships at court." " For all 
that," said the housekeeper, " you snail not come in here, you bag of 
mischief, and bundle of nguery ! Get you home and Eorem there : 
Ko, piough and cart, and do not trouble your silly pate about islands, 
liie priest and the barber were highly diverted at this dialogue : bat 
Don Quixote, fearing lest Sosciio should blunder oat aomethiiig 
unseasoQably, and touch apon certain points not advantageous to hu 
reputation, ordered the women to hold their peace, and let him in. 
Sancho entered, and the ¡iritst and the barber took their leave of Don 
Quixote, now quite despairing of his cure : seeing that he waa more 
intoxicated tian ever with knight .errantry. " You will see, neigh- 
bour," said the curate, as they walked away, " our friend wiil soon 
take another flight." " No doubt of it," said the barber, " yet I 
think the creduhty of the squire still more eitraordiaaryr — it seems 
impossible to drive that same bland out of his head." "Heaven help 
them!" cried the priest. "However, let us watch their motions; 
the knight and the squire seem both to he cast in the same mould, 
and the madnesa of the one, without the folly of the other, would 
not be worth a rush." " I should like to know what they are now 
conferring about," said the barber. " We shall soon hear that from 
the niece or housekeeper," repLed the priest ; " tor, 1 lay my life, they 
will not refrain from ustening." 

Son Quixote having shut himself up in his chamber with Sancho, 
he said to him, " It concerns me much, Sancho, that thou wilt peraist 
in saying tiiat I enticed thee from thy home. How ! Did we not both 
leave our homes together, journey together, and were both exposed to 
the same fortune ! K thou wert once tossed in a blanket, 1 have only 
had the advantage of thee, in being a htmdred times exposed to hard 
blows." " That ia hut reasonable, answered Sancho ; for, as jour 
worship says, misfortunes belong more properly to knights-errant than 
to their squires." " Thou art mistaken, Sancho " said Don Qnixote; 
" tor, according ia the saying, Quaxdo caput dolet, &c." " I ondeV- 
atand no other language than my own," replied Sancho. " I meaiL" 
aaid Don Quixote, " that when the head aches, all the members acne 
also; and therefore I, being thy lord and master, am thy head, and 
thou, being my servant, art a portion of me ; and, therefore, what- 
ever evil I Bufier must be fe!t by thee, as thy sufferings likewise affect 
me." " And so it should be," quoth Sancho ; " but when I as a mem- 
ber, suffered in the blanket, my head stood on t'other side of the 
pales, seeing me tossed in the aú, without taking the smallest share 
in my pun, though, as the members are hound to erievc at the ills of 
the head, the head should have done the like for them," " Wouldst 
thou then insinuate, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that I was not 

r'eved when I saw thee tossed in the air ? If that he thy meaning 
Bssared ihou art deceived ; for I felt more at that time in my mina 
than thou didst in thy body. But let us dismiss this subject at pre- 
■ent ; for a time will come when we may set this matter to rigbts. 

nmuc OPiHioN at the knight. 280 

And now tell me, friend Sancho, vhatdothejaaj'of meintbenllweP 
What opinion do the common people entertain of mcF What think 
the gentlemen and the caraliers T What ia said of mj prowpsa, of 
my eiploits, and of my courteooa demeanonvP What say they to 
the desien I hare fonned of reviving the iong-foraotten order of 
chiralry f In short, Sancho, I would have thee tell me wbateTei 
thou haat heard conoernioK these matfers ; and this thou mnst do, 
without addiuB to the Bood, or omitting the evil ; for it is the part or 
faithful vassals to tell their lords the truth in its natiw simpiicitj', 
neither cmbellisbed by adulation nor withheld out of any idle dáicacy. 
And let me tell thee, Sancho, that if the naked truth could reach the 
ears of princes, without the disguise of flattery, «e should see happier 
days, and former asea would be deemed as iron in oomparison of oura, 
■which would then be truly termed the golden aie. Now remember 
this, Sancho, and give me an ingenuous and faitnful account of what 
thou knowest conceroinff these (natters," " That I will, with all my 
heart, sir," answered Sancho, " on condition that your worship bo not 
■n^ry atwhat I say, since you desire to have the truth, just as it came 
to me." " I will in no wise be angry," replied Don Quiote ; " speak 
then freely, Sancho, and without any circumlocution. 

"First and foremost, then." said Sancho, "the common people take 
TOUT worship for a downright madman, and me fur no less afooL 
The gentry aaj that, not content to keep to your own proper rank of 
a gentleman, you call yourself Bon, and set np for a knight, witn no 
,L u : ^ „J _,_ _r /-.__., ^^^ 

. — — ^ -^ iintry 

[uires who clout their shoes, and take up the fallen stitches of their 

more than a paltiy vineyard and a couple of acres of land. 
cavaliers say tney do not choose to be vied with by those o 

■quil- ■■'■■ ■' '■■-.-_ _!..._ __J._I_ ..V_ f.ll... _,-i.L.. . 


never patched ; a little torn it may be, but more by the filing of 
my armour than by time." " As to your valour, eoortesy, achieve- 
ments, and undertakings," continned Sancho, " there are many 
different opinious. Some say you are mad, but humorous ; others, 
valiant, but unfortunate: others, courteous, bat absurd; and thus 
they pull us to pieces, tiU they leave neither your worship nor me a 
•ingle feather upon our backs. " Take notice, Sancho,'*^ aaid Don 
QiuxolA, " that, wherever virtue eiists in any eminent de^ree^ it ia 
Mwajra persecuted, few, or none, of the nunoua men ol antiquity 
MCaped the calumny of their malidous contemporaries. J^uliua Cóear, 
ft most conraraons, prudent, and valiant general, waa ohai^ wiUi 
baiag too ambitioaa, and also with want d personal oleanliuess, 
Aleunder, whose óploits gained him the Bormune <tf Great, is 
■aid to hare been addicted to dnmkennesB. Hercnles, who per- 
fonned so many laboora, is accusedof being lascivious and effeminate. 
Don Galatff, brother of Amadia de Gaol, was taxed with being quar- 
■vlsome, and bis biather with being a whimperer. Amidst so many 
MpcTÑons cast on the worthy, mine, O Sandio may very well pass, 
if thn an no more than thon hast mentioned." Body of myfaíherl 
there 8 the rub, sir," exclaimed Sancho. " What, then, is there moro 
yet behind?" said Don Qniiote. " Why, all the things I have told 

Care tarts and cbemecakes to wb^ remains benind," replied 
cho: " but if your worship would have all, to the very dregs, I 
will bring one hither presently who can tell jou everything, without 
ffliising a tittle; for last night the son of Bartholomew Carrasoo 

390 iH»i <t^'I2OT>- 

returned from hii studies at Salsinsnca, where he has taken hia hache- 
lor's degree ; and when I veut to bid nim welcome home, he told mc 
that the history of your worship was already printed in tixtks, under 
the title of ' Don Quixote de la Mancha ;' and he aaj'S it mentions me 
tooby myTerynane of Sancho Panza, and also the lady Dulcinea del 
Toboso, and seyeral other private matters which passed between no 
two omy ; insomuch that I crossed myself out of pure amazement, to 
think how the historian who wrote it should come to know ihem." 
" Depend upon it, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " that the author 
of tins our hutory must be aome sage enchanter : for nothing is oon- 
ceaied from them." " A sape, aniT an enchanter P " qvioth Sancho i 
"why, the bachelor Sampson Carrasco savs the author of this story is 
called Cid Uamet Bereneena." • " That is a Moorish name," 
answered Don Quiiote. It mav be bo," replied Sanelio; " for I 
bare heard that voor Moors, for tne meet part, are ktven of Beren- 
genas." " Sancho," süd Inn Quiiote, "thou most be mistaken !■ 
the surname of that same ' Cid,' which, m Arabic, signifies ' a !onl.' " 
"lliat may be," answered Sancho, "tut if your worship would Mke 
to see him, I will run and fetch him." " Thou wilt give me singular 
pleasure, friend," said Don Quixote ; " for I am surprised at what 
thou hast told me, and shall be impatient till I am infonned of 
every pMticolar." "I will go for nim directly." said Sancho j 
then, leaiing bis master, be went to seek the bacnelor, with whom 
he soon returned, and a most delectable conversation then passed 
between them. 


Dos QoixoTE, foil of thonjht, was impatient for the rctatn rf 
Sancho and the Mchelor Carrasco, anxious to hear about the printed 
aeconnts of himself, yet scarcely believing that such a history coofd 
reollf be published, since the blood of the enemies he had slain was 
still recking on his sword'biade — indeed, he did not see how it was 
possible that his high feats of arms should be already in print. How- 
ever, he finally concluded that some sage, either fnend or enemy, by 
art -magic, had sent them to the press: if a friend, to proclaim and 
extol them above the most signal achievements of knigflts-errant— H 
an enemy, to annihilate and sink them below the meanest that ever 
were written even of a squire : though again he recollected that the 
feats of squires were never recorded. At any rate he was certain, if 
it should prove the fact that such a history was really extant, bemg 
that of a krdght errant, it eould not be otherwise than lofty, illustrioos, 
maguificent, and true. This thought afforded him some comfort, bift 
he lost it again on considering that the author was a Moor, as It 
appeared from the name of Cid, and that no trulh could be expected 
from Moors, who are all impostors, Hars, and visionaiies. He also 
* Satiaho miitakss Bercngcna, a spaotoa of fruit, ibr Bsd E^unU. 



fclt much inquietude lest tLe Mithor might hnve trented his ;>usion 
Willi indelicacy, Kod thercbv offend the immacokte purit; of his ladr 
JJulcinea del Toboso; be nuped, however, he might flod a faithful 
(Ulineutiou of ilia own conslancy and the decorum he had evef 
invioUbly preserved towards her ; Blighting, for her sake, queiins, 
eiiipres8C9, and damsels of all de^^recs. and resisting the most violent 
temiitations. WbUe lie was ag-itated bj these anda tliousand other 
fancies, SanDho returned, accompiuiied b; the baclielor, who was 
d witb all possible courtesy, 
bachelor, tiiough Sampson I 

iittle mirth-ioving man, wii ^ . . _^ , 

tirenty-foiir years of ape, of a pale complexion, roniid-faccd, flat- 
noeed, and wide-monthid ; all indicating humonr and nntim relish for 
joctdarity, which, indeed showed itself when on approaehins Don 
Quixote, ne threw himself npon his knees, and said to him, "Si^or 
Jjun Quixote de la Manch^ alloT mu the honour of kissm^ yoar jilua- 
triona hand, for bv the habit of St. Peter, which I wear— thougb I 
fcave yet taken only the four first dezrees towards holy orders^ — your 
"Worship is one (^ the most famous kni;;hts-errant that hath ever been or 
shall be, upon the whole circumference of the earth! A blessing light 
on Cid lliunet Benengeli, who has recorded the hbtoiyof yourmignty 
deeds! and blessing upun blessings light on. thnt ingenious scriM 
whose laudable curiositr was the cause of its being translated out of 
Arabic into our vulgar Castilian, for the proñt and amusement of aQ 
mankind!" Bon Quixote having raised him from the ground, said to 
him, "It is true, then, that my history b really published to theworlA 
uui that it was written by a Moor und a sage r" " So true it is, sir, 
said Sampson, "that I verily believe there are, at this very day, above 
twelve thousand copies published of that history : — witness Portugal, 
Barcelona, and Valencia, where they wrae printed ; and it is said to 
be now printing at Antwerp — indeed, I prophesy that no nation 
or language will be withoat a translation of it. ' There cannot be 
a more legitimate sOTircc of gra'.ification to a virtuous and distin- 
gnisbed man," said Don Quiiote, "than to have hi» good name 
Helebrated during bis life-time, and circulated over different nations : 
— I say bis good name, for if it were otlierwise than ^d, dcuth, in 
any shape, would be preferable." "As to high reputation and a good 

*" or, "your worship beais the palm over all post 

IB Uoor in the Arabian limguage, and the 
ition, have both taken core to paint to the life 
nt which distinguishes you, that greatness of 
igers, tht^ i^ience in adversity, that fortitude 
isty and continence in love, so truly Platonii^ 
ween yon and my lady Donna Dulcinea del 

but' o_^ , 

rea^y mistaken." " That objection is of no 
i Carrasco. "No, certainly," replied Don 
U me, signor bachelor, on which of ny eiploila 
it stressinthat same history P" "As to that 
ibr, " opinions vanr according to the difference 
3r the ^venture of the wind-mills, which your 
worsfa^took Ibiso many Biiaienses ami gi^uits; others prefer that 
"» A.OOgIC 

of the foUk^-Biilb; one cries uplor the t<n)aiviies,T)inil]tDraed out 
to be flocks of sheep ; mother for the dead body, curyniB for mter- 
ment to Segoria. some nmintaiii that the affur of the f^aUey-slkTe* 
is the flower of »U; while others will have it that none eaa oe Cora- 
pared to tliat of the two Benedictine giants, and the combat with the 
TalonKia Biscajan." "'Pnj teUne, si^or baohdor," quoth Sandio, 
"has it got, amon^ the rest, the uair of the Yaoirnesiau carnets, 
«hen our good Rozinante «as tempted to go astrajf" "The aage," 
answered Sampsoo, "has oniitted nothing'— he minalely details efety- 
thing, even to the capers &mcho cut in the blanket," "I cut no 
c«4>er3 in the bhinket," answered Sanoho ; " in the air I own I did, 
and not mtich to my liking." " There is no biston' of human afcira, 
I conceive," said tkin Quixote, " whieb is not foil of reverses, trad 
none more than those of chividry." " Nevertheless," replica the 
bachelor, "some who hare read the historysay they should nave been 
better pleased if the nathors of it had forborne to enumerate all the 
buffetingsendored by Signor Don Quinóte in his different enconnlers." 
" Therein," quoth Sancno, "consists the truth of the history," "They 
might, indeea, as well haTe omitted them," said Don Quixote, " since 
there is no necessity tat ie«ordÍnz actions which are prejudicial to the 
bero, without being essential to tne liistory. It is not to be supposed 
that MoBta was in all his actions so pure as Vii^ rraresenta him, 
nor Ulysses so uniformly prudent as he is deicribed by Homer. 
" True," replied Sampson ; " but it a one thing to write as a poet, 
and another to write as an hiitorian. The poet may say or aing, 
not as things were, but aa they ought to have been ; but the historian 
must pea them not as they ought to hare been, but as they real^ 
were, without adding to, or cuminishing aught from the truth. 
" Well, then," said Sancho, " if this Signor Moor is so fond of telling 
the truth, and my master's rib-roaatinga are all set down, 1 En^moMi 
mine are not forgotten ; for they never took measure of his worship's 
shoulders, but at the same time they contrived to get the len^b and 
breadth of my whole boi)i ; — but why should I wonder at that, since, 
as this same master of mine says, the members must share the fate oi 
Ifae he^d ? " " Sancho, thon art an arch rogue," replied Don Quixote. 
" and in faith, upon some occasions, hast no want of memorv. 
" Thouich I wanted ever so much to fo^et what my poor body tms 
■nfl'ered," quoth Sancho, " the toknia that an still fnah on my ribs 
would not let mo." " Peace, Sanoho," said Don Quixote, " and let 
signor bachelor proceed, that I nwv know what is further said of me 
in the history." " And of me too,'' qnoth Sancho, " í<» I hear Üuá I 
am one of the principal parsons in it." " Feraons, not parsons, 
friend Sancho," quoth Sampson. " What, have we another corrector 
of words F " qnoth Sancho : " if we are to go on at this rat«, we shall 
make slow work of it." " As sure as I live. Sancho," ansn «red the 
bachelor, " you are the second person of the liistorr : — nay, there are 
those who had rather bear you talk than the finest fellow of them all: 
though there are also some who charge jou with being too credulous 
in expecting the government of that island promised you by Signor 
Don Quixote, here present." " There is still aun^ahine on the wall," 
qnoth Don QuÍxote¡ " and when Sancho ig more advanced in a^ 
with the experience that years bestow, ha will be better qualified to 
be a govenior than ho is at present." "Tore Qad! sir" quoth 
Sancho, "if I an not fit to govern an island at these years, I lUl be 

, , . .A.OOgIC 

THK maKT** HmoBiAX. 99S 

m better able at tke age of Methnsalefn. The mi«cliief of it is, that 
the said island sticks tomswliere elae, and not in my want of a bead- 
sieoe to povem it." " Recommend the matter to God, Sandio," said 
Don Qaiuite ; " and all will be well— perhaps better than thou mayat 
Üúak: fur not a leaf stirs <a the tree nithout his penniKsion." 
"That is very true," qnoth Sampson ; " and if it please (k>d, Sancho 
will not want a thoasaod isUnih to govern, much less one." " 1 have 
Ken governor ere now," qnolh S«Bcbo, " nbo, in my onÍDion, do 
not come up to the sole of xtij shoe ; and jet they are called ' yovr 
lordship,' and eat their victuals upon piale." " Those are not ^ver- 
moB oS islands," replied Sampeon, " fant of other guveraments more 
tuasageable ; for those who Rovem islands must at least onilersland 
eramuiar." " Gramercy for that 1 " qnulh Sancho i " it is all Crreek 
to me, for I know nothing of the matter; so let as leave the business 
f)i govenuneata in the hands of God, and let Him dispose of me in 
the way that I may best serve Him. But I am mi)ditily pleased, 
SiKaur Baobelor Sampson Carrasoo, that the author of the history haa 
Ikot spoken ill of me ; for, upon the faith of a tnwtv squire, hnd he 
said anithinx of me uobecoming an old Christian, as 1 am, the deaf 
should nave neard it." " That would be woiling miracles," answered 
Sampsco. " Jiiraolea, c»- nomiracles," quoth Sancho, "people sliould 
taJte need what they say and wril« of otíier fi^ks, and oot set anythii^ 
down that comes uppomost." 

" One of the faults found with this hisiory," eaid the bachelor, " is 
that the author has inserted in it a novel called ' The Curious imper- 
tioent ;' not because the tale is bad in iWel/, or ill-written, but tliej 
8aj that it is out of place, having nothinE to do with the storj of his 
worship Sienor Don Quiiote." I wiL lay a wager," re[Aied Sanehi^ 
" the rascally author has made a &ie hotch-poUh of it, jumblJa^ fiab 
and flesh together." " I aver then," said Don Quixote, " that the 
author of my history could not be a lage, but some ignorant pre- 
tender, who has engatiwd in the work without deliberation, and 
written doin» wijthiiMf, iuist at random : like Orbeneja, the painter of 
übeda, who, being asked what he was painting, answered, ' As it. may 
happen ;' sod who, when he had pajuteda cock, to prevent impertinent 
nísükeá, «rute under it, ' This is a oock.' Thus, periiaps, it has 
fared with my history, which may requii« a oomraent to make it 
intelligible." " Not at all," answered Sampson ; " for it is so plain, 
M easy to be undecBtood, that children tíiamb it, boya read it, jnen 
understand it, and dd folks eomnend it ; in short, it is so tossed 
tiicMt, so eocoed, uid so t^orouKhly known by all sorts of peoj^ 
that no sooner is a loan horse see« than they ery, ' Yonder ^ors iton- 
uuite.' But none are so much addicted to reiiunff it as your pazee : 
— ia every nobleman'a antechamber von will be sure to find a l>in 
Quxot«. If one Lays it down, another takes it np ; one asks for it, 
snothisi snatches it ; — in short, this history is the moat pleasing and 
least prejadioial work that was aver published : for it contains not 
one indeeent ex{H^ssÍOD, nor a thought that t* not nnrely catliolie." 
" To writ« otkerwise of me," aaid Don Quísote, " bad not been to 
write truths, but lies : and historians who propagate blschoods should 
be condemned to the stake, hke ccduen of base moDer. Why the 
aUllKir was indnced to iaÍE novels, or narratives of other persons, 
with my histoiT, which is itself sa rich in matter, I know not; but 
■one ynitea Üátk, aa the proverb s«ys, ' With har or with straw-^t 


is all the same' Veril?, bad he confined himsplf to the pnhlicatioh 
of my thoughts, my aalis, my (,Toans, my laudable inlentions, or mj 
actual aclijevcments. ne might, with these alone, bare compiled a 
volume as large, or 1ar;;er, than all the vorks of Tostatus. £ut in 
truth, si^or liachelor, mach kuowledgn and a mature nnderstandins 
are requisite for a hbtorian, or, indeed, for a good writer of any kiod; 
and \vú and humour belong to genius alone. There is no uharuclcr 
in comedy vhich requires bo much ingenuity as th»t of the fool; 
for he must not iii reality be what he appciira. History is like 
sacred wrilinf, because troth is essential to it; and where there b 
truth, the Deity himself is present ; neyerthelcss, there are many who 
think that books may be written and tossed out into the world like 

"There is no book so bad," s^d the bachelor, "but thatsorae- 
thinp good may be fcnnd in it. " Undoubtedly," said Don Quiiote; 
" ] nave known many, too, that bare enjoyed conaiderabie reputation 
for their talents in wrilinjr, nntU, by publishing, they hare either 
injured or entirely lost their fame," "The reason of this is," said 
Sampson, " that as printed works may be read leisurely, thdr 
defocts are more easily seen, and Ihey are scrutiDised more or less 
strictly in propiHlion to the cclfibrity of the author. Men of great 
talents, whether poets or historians, seldom escape the attacks of 
those who, without ever faTOiirm^ the world with any production of 
their own, tiike delight in criticising the works of olliers." "Kor 
can we wonder at that," said Don Quixote, " when we observe the 
same practice anioog divines, who, though dull enough in the pulpit 
themselves, are wonderfully sharp- sii;1i ted in discovering the defects 
of other preachers." "True, indeed, Sijtnor Don Oiiiiote," said Car. 
tasco; I wshcriticswould be less fastidious, nor dwell so much upon 
the mot«3 which may be discerned even in the brightest works : Tor, 
though ati^anáo toxtu domilat Hosiena, they ought to consider 
bow much he waa awake to produce a work with so much light 
aud so little shade ; nay, perlúps even bis seeming blemishes are 
like moles, which are sometiiries thought to be rattier an improve- 
ment to beauty, Bnt it cannot be denied, that whoever pubhshes 
a book to the worU, exposes himself to miminent peri!, since, of 
kU thinp, nothing is more impussihle than to satisfy everybody." 
" My history must please but very few, 1 fear," said Don Quísote. 
"On the contrarj;," replied the baeliclor, "as, lialfomm ñjinitiu cit 
Mimens, so infinite is the number of those who have been delighted 
with that histonr. Though some^ it is true, have taxed the author with 
having a treacherous memorj', since he never explained who it was 
tliat stole Sancbo's Dapple : it only appears that he was stolen, yet 
soon after we find him mounted upon the same beast, without 
being told how it was recovered. Thev complain also, that he bos 
omitted to inform us, what Sancho did with the hundred crowns 
which be found in the portmanteau in the Sierra Morena : for he 
never mentions them again, to the great disappointment of many 
curions persons, who reckon it one of the most material defects in 
the work." " Master Sampson," replied Sancho. " I am not in the 
mind now to oome to aoc< i.iils or reckonings, lor I have a quahn 
come over my stomach, anil sh^ not be easy till I have rectified 
it with a couple of draugbi^ of oM stingo : I have the darling at 
home, ud my duok loc^ for me. When I have hod my feed, and 


my girths are tightened I sball be with vou straight, and will satisfy 
ruu and all the world, in whatever ttiey sre pleased to ask me 
both toiichiníí the loss of Dapyle and llie Injinff out of the hundred 
crowns," Then, without wailin? for an answer, or aajiug another 
word, he set off home. The bachelor, bcin; pressed by Don Quísote 
to stay and do penaaee with him, he accepted the invitation, and a 
couple of pieeous were added to the uauat fare : chivalry was the 
subjti't at table, and Carrasco carried it on with the proper hnmonr 
and spirit. Their banquet over, they sh'pt during the heat of the 
day ; after which Sancho letumed, and the former conversation was 

1, Master Sampson Carrasco, now you want to know when and 
now mv Dapple was stolen, and who was the thief P You mnst know, 
then, that on the very night that we marched off, to avoid the offioera 
of the hoi; brotherhood, after the unlucky affair of the gaUey-sIaves, 
having made our war into the Sierra Morena, my master and I got 
into a thicket, where lie, leaning upon his lance, and I, sitting npon 
Dapple, mauled and tired by our late skirmishes, we both fell as fast 
asleep as if we had hecn stretched upon four feather-beds. For my 
own part, I slept so soundly that the thief, whoever he was, had 
leisure enough to prop me up on four stakes, which he planted under 
the four corners of the pannel, and then drawing Dapple from under 
me, he left me fairlj mounted, without ever dreamm^^of my loss." 
"That is an easy matter, and no new device," said Don Quixote; 
" for it is recorded, that at the siege of Albiaca the famous robber 
Brúñelo, by the very same strata^m, stole the horse of Saoripant« 
from between his legs," " At day-br^," continued Sancho, "when 
rtch mvself, the stakes gave way, and down 
1 gquelch, to the ^und. 1 looked abont 

■' 'he aumor oi our nisiory n 
1 excellent thing. After ( 

the prii 
, , ... intedoo 

d notorious malefactor Gines de Pnssa- 
and I freed from the gallev-chain !" "The 
" said Sampson, "but in tneauthormaking 
ne beast before lie is said to have reoovered 
iaocho, "I know nothing about; it might 
ian, or perhaps, a blander of his printer." 


8H DOS Quixon. 

"No i(niA it was to," anoth SNnpsop: "bat wbat bemm of Uu 
hnndred crovrnsP — for tbere we are in the dark." "I laid them 
out," replied Sancho ; " for the benefit of iny own person and Uiat 
of mv wueand children; and they have been the canse of her hearing 
guietlj my rambles from home in the service of 1117 master Bon 
Quiiote : for had I returned after «o iong a time, asa-less and penny- 
leas, I must have looked for a scurv; greeting: and if yon want to 
kcow anything more of me, here I am, ready to answer the kinR him- 
self in person ; though it is nothing to anybody whether I boagM 
or bought not, whether I spent or spent not : tor if the cuffs and 
blows that have been given me in our travels were to be paid for 
in readv money, and mted only at four maravedís a-piece, another 
hundred crowns would not pay for half of them : so let eveir man 
lay his hand npon bis heart, and not take white for black, nm 
black for white ; for we are all as God made ns, and oftentimes a 
great deal worse." 

" I will take care," said Carrasco, "to warn the author of the 
history not to forget, in his neit edition, what honest Sancho has 
told us, which wul make the hook as good again." " Are there 
any other explanations wanting in the work, signor bachelor ? " 
quoth Don Quiiote. " There may be others,' answered Carrasco, 

but none of equal importance with those already^ mentioned. 
" Peradventure," said Don Quixote, " the author promises a aecoiid 
part ? " " He does," answered Sampson, " but says he has not yet 
been able to find oat the possessor of it ; and therefore we are in 
donbt whether or not it will ever make its miearanoe. Seside^ 
some people say that second parts are never good for anything ; ana 
othen, that there is enough of Don Quixote already ; thoi^ it is 
true there are some merry souls who cry, ' Let ns have more Onixot- 
adea : let but Don Quiiote enoonnter, and Sandio Panza talK, and 
go the world as it may ! " " But pray, how stands the editor 
afleotedP" inquired Don Quiiote. "How!" saidSampson; "why 
as soon as be ean find this iuBtorj, which he is diligently sewching 
for, he will immediately seud it to press, more on account of the 
profit than the praise which he hopes to derive from it." " What, 
then," said Sancho, " the author wants to get money by it ? If so, 
it will be a wonder, indeed, if it is well done ; for he will stitoh it 
sway like a tailor on Eaater-eve, and your hasty woiis are never eood 
for an>thing. This same Signor Hoor would do well to consider a 
little what he is about; for I and my master will furnish him so 
•bondantly with lime and mortar in matter of adventares that he 
may not only compile a second, but a handred parts. The good man 
thinks, without doubt, that we he sleeping here in straw, but let him 
hold up the limping foot, and he vill see why it halts. All that I 
can say is, tiai if my master had taken my advice we might imn 
been now in Uio field, rediegsiog grievanoes and lighting wrongt, 
according to the nsage of good £night»<rTant." At this momeiiL 
while Smcho waa yet speaking, the neighing of Roiinante reached 
their ears; which Don Quixote took for a most happ^ omen, and 
resolved, witjiout delay, to resume his functions, and agam sally forth 
n(o the worid. He therefore consulted the baidtelor aa to iriiat 
course he should take, and was advised by him to go straight to the 
kingdom of Arragon and the city of Saiuossa, where, in a few days, 
a most solemn tounument was to be hela in hráioar of the festival of 

" A.oogic 

SANCHO a OHMSm Of V1L0ÜX. 99r 

Bunt Gecff|[e ; and there, by noqnisliing the Arra^itm kniriita, he 
vonld acquire the uceudanc; over all tbe kmsbte m (be Torul, He 
«ommended his rewlutiou a» most honoarable awl brave : at the 
Mme time caalknimg him to be m<H« wary in eucoouteriiiK Kreat and 
neetUesa |MTÍla, because Uia Ufe «aa not hia own, but belonged to 
« who stood in need of his aid and protectioo. " That is jmt 

what 1 s»T, Signw Sampsrai," qooth Sancho ; " for mr master makes 
no more 01 attaJcIcingaboiidíed armed meDthanaeTeeayboywoahldo 
Uf-a-doteu metons. Boi^ of me, signor bacJielor ! ;es, tliere must 

__ a time to attack, and a time to retreat, and it iniut not be ¿waja, 
'Saint Ja^, and aha^e, Spaini'* And further, 1 have heard it 
taid(anii if 1 remember ngh^ bymymaater himself) that trae teJodt 
Jiea ia the middle between eovardice and raahnesB : and, if so, I 
woidd not hare him either fall on or flf, without good reason for it. 
B«t, abore all, I would let m; master know that, u he takes me with 
him, it must be upon condition that he shall battle it all himself, and 
that I shall onlr have to tend hia person—I mean look after his 
dotbes and food : all whioh I will do vith a heartr good will ; but if 
be expects that I will lay hand to my sword, though it be only 
agaioBt beggarly wood^onttecs with hoolCB and hatchets, be is very 
mooh mistaken. I, Signor Sampson, do not set un for being the 
most valiant, but tbe best and most faithful squire that ever served 
knigbt-ernrnt; and if my lord Don Qaixole, in consideration of my 
many and ^ood services, shall please to bestow on me some one (H 
the many islands his «oiship says he shall light upon, I shall be 
much beholden to bim for the favour ; and if he give me none, hwe I 
am, and it ia better to trust God than each other; «id mayhap my 
govcrcment bread might not m down so sweet as that which I ahould 
eat withont it; and how do I kaow but the devil, in one of these 

rvemments, might set np a stombling-block in my way, over whioh 
may fall, and dash out my grinders ? Sancho I was bom, and 
Sancho I expect to die ; yet for all that it fairly and squarely, with- 
out much care or mudi risk. Heaven should chance to throw an 
--''--' t some such thing, inmyway, I am not such a fool neither 

Tose it : for, as t^'" -•"in™ i= 'Wtion tki™ n-ísa tmr, . tiulf» 

be ready with the rope,' i 
tokt herin.'" 

"Brother Smcho," qaoth the bachelor, "yon have spoken like any 
ptofesBor ; nevertheless, trost in Heaven, and Signor Jksa Quixote, 
and then youmay getnotoiiljani8laiá,butevenakingdoro." "One 
as likely as tbe other," answered Sandia ; " tbon^ 1 coold tell Bifnxir 
Canasoo that my master vill not throw the kiiu^om be gives me into 
aiottensack; forlhavefelt my pulse,andfiadmvadf etronfcenoDfch 
to mis kingdoms and govern island^ and so nmon I have a^iBed, 
before now, to my master." "Take heed, San^o," qnoth tbe bache- 
lor, " for honours change manners ; and it may eome to pasa, whm 
nm are a govenor, that you may not know even your own mother." 

Ibst," answered Sancho, "may be the case with tboae that are bom 
■mong tiie mallows: but not with one whose soul, like mine, is 
eonred fonr inches thick with the grace of aa old Christian ;— no, no, 
Z am not one of the ungrateful sort." " Heaven grant it," said Don 

• "Santiago 7 elarraKapua," ia tlis ay of Clu ^«idaris at Uia ooaat 

898 IMS qmxOTB. 

Quixote ; " but ve shall see vhen tbe govenunent comes : and 
metliinks I have it airead; in m; eye." 

Tiie knigbt now requested Sampson Carrasco, if he were a poet, to 
do him tbe faTOur to fximpose same Terses for biin, as a farewell to 
his iady, and to pbice a letter of her name at tbe besinnini? of each 
verse, so that the initials joined together might make DuUiaea del 
Toboto. Tbe bacbelor Baiil tbnt, thou;;)i lie vaa not one of the great 
poets of Spain, who were said to be tbrec-and-a-half in number, b« 
would endeaionr to comply with bis request ; at tbe same time, he 
foresaw that it would be no easy task, as tbe name consisted of seveo- 
t«en letter?; foe if he made four stanzas of four verse» each, there 
would be a letter too mucb, and if he made them of five, which are 
called Decituas or Redondillas, there would be three letlers wanting : 
however, he said that be would endeavour l^i sink a letter as well as 
he could, so that the name of Dulcinea del Toboso should be included 
in the four stanzas. " Let it be ao by all means," said Don Quixote ; 
" for, when the name is not plain and manifest, tbe lady ia alwajis 
doubliul whether the verses be really cotaposed for her," On tlua 

Cut they aííteed. and also that tiiey should set out within eight days 
m tbat time. i)on Quiiotc enjoined tbe bachelor to keep ms inten- 
tion secret, especially from the priest and master Nicholas, as well as 
hia niece and housekeeper, lest they might endeavour to obstruct his 
honourable purpose. Carrasco promised to attend to his caution, and 
took his leave, after obtaining a promise on bis part to s( 

Ehtbbino on the present chapter, the translator of this hbtory says 
that he takea it to be apocryphal, because Sancho therein expresses 
himself in a style v^ diserent from what might beeipectcd from his 
shallow understandins, and speaiis with an acutcncss that seems 
wholly above his capacity; nevertheless he would not omit the 
translation of it, in compLiance with the duty of his office, and there- 
fore proceeded a3 follows : — 

Suicho went liome in ench hif;h spirita that his wife observed bis 
«iety a bow-shot off, insomuch Inat she could not help saving, 
"What makes you look so blithe, friend Sancho?" To which he 
answered : " Would to Leaven, dear wife, I were not so well pleased 
ea I seem to he!" "I know not what you mean, husband," replied 
ah& "by saying yon wish you were not so much pleased; now, sil^ 
as I am, I cannot guess how ouy one can desire not to be pleased. 
" Look you, Teresa," answered bajicbo, " I am thus merry because I 
am about to return to tbe service of my mastor Don Quixoto, who ta 
.going again in search after adventures, and 1 am to accompany him : 
for so mf fate wills IL Besides,! am ucny with Üie hopes of finding 

aTiotTier hundred erovms like those we Uave spent ; thongli it grieres 
me to part from you and my rhildren ; and if Heaven would be 
pleasea to R\ve me bread, dryaiiod and at home, without draggii^ me 
over crasrs and cross-paths, it is plain that my joy would Be bett«t 
ptonnded, since it is now minded with sorrow for leaTJnft yon : so 
that I was right in saving that I should be glad if it pleased lleareiL 
I were not so well p'eaaed." " Look you, Sancho," replied Teresa, 
"cTer since you have been tt knight-errant man, joti talk in such a 
roundabout manner that nobody can understand you." " It is enough, 
wife," said Sancho, "that God understands me. For He b the 
nndcrstander of all things ; and so much for that. And do yoa hear, 
wife, it behoves yon to take special care of Dapple for these three or 
four days to come, that he mav be in a condition to bear arms ; so 
doable bis allowance, and get tbe pack-saddle in order, and the rest 
of hia tackling; for we are not going to a wedding, but to roam aboat 
the worid, and to ^¡vcand take with giants, fiery dragona, and goblins, 
and to hear hissings, roarings, beliowings. and bleatinga ; all which 
would be but flowers of lavender, if we had not to do with Yangueses 
and enchanted Moors." " I believe, indeed, husband," replied Teresa, 
"that yonr aquires-errant do not eat their bread for nothing, and 
therefore I shall not f^l to beseech Heaven to deliver you speedily 
from so much evil hap." " I tell you, wife," answered Sancho, " that 
did I not expect, ere lon^, to see myself governor of an island, I vow 
I should drop down dead npon the spot." " Not so, good husband," 
qnoth Teresa: "let the hen live, though it be with the nip. Do yon 
live, and the devil take all the governments in the worlds Without a 
Rovenunent joa came into the world, withont a government you have 
tved till now, and witiiout it you can be carried to your grave, when- 
ever it shall please God. How many folks are there in the world 
that have no government ; and yet they live, and are reckoned among 
the people f The ■— ' "- ■''■ '-^ is hunger, and as that is 

ir wanting to with a relish. But if per- 

ice, Sancho, j ent, do not forget me 

yoor children. C ncho is just fifteen y 

o\í and it is flt ht is uncle the abbot n 

to breed him up ti so that Mary Sancha your 

daughter will not t; her ; for I am mistaken 

if she has not as i e you have to a gjorem- 

ment ; and verily bat humbly marriea than 

highly kept." "I tid Sancho, "if Heaven be 

Eo good tome tba government, 1 will match 

Mary Sancha so kp_j j coming near her without 

calling her your ladyship." "TJotso, Sancho," answered Teresa; "the 
best way is to marry her to her eqnw. ; for if you lift her from clouted 
shoes to high heels, and, instead of her russet coat of fourteenpenny 
Stu^give her a &rthingale and petticoats of silk ; and instead of plain 
Molly and thou, she be called madam and yonr ladvship, the girl will 
not know where she is, and will fall into a thonsaua mistake* at every 
step, showbg her home-spun country stuff." " Peace, fool," qnoth 
Sancho, " she has only to practise two or three yeare, and the gravity 
will set upon her as if it were made for her : and if not what matters 
it ? Let Tier be a lady, and come of it what will." " iíeasure yonr- 
selt by yonr condition, Saniiio," answered Teresa ; " and do not te^ 
to raise yourself bi^er, but remember the proverb, ' Wipe yonr nei^- 


900 DOF qmzoTB. 

Iwui's sou's noee and take Iiim into your honae.' It would be a pret^ 
busiuess, trulj, to manr our Mary to some great count or liiii^^ 
who, when the fuicy tates him, would look upon her as some strange 
thing, and be calling her country-wench, clod-hreaker'a brat, and I 
know not «hat else. No, not while I lire, husband ; 1 have sot 
brought up raj child to be so used j do you provide money, Sancho, 
Bod lenve the matching of her to my care ; for there is Lope Tocho, 
John Tocho's son, a luftj'^ hab young man, whom we know, and I am 
sure he has a sneaking kmduesa for the irirl ; to him she wiU be very 
well married, cousidenug he ia our equal, and will be always undel 
our eye ; and we shall be all aa one, parents and children, grandson» 
and sone-in-law, and so the peaoe and blessing of Heaven will be 
aaiojig us all ; and do not you be for marryirig her at your courts and 
great peaces, where they will neither understand her, not she under- 
stand herself." " Hark you, beast, and wife for Búabfaas," replied 
Sancho, " why would yon now, without rhyme or reason, hinder me 
from marrying my daughter with one who may bring me rrandchildrm 
that may be stj led your lordships ? — Iiook you, Teresa, 1 have always 
heard my belters say, ' He tliat will not when he may, when he will 
he shall nave nay ;' and it would be wrong, now that fortune is knock- 
ing at our door, mit to open it and bid