Believe me, nymph, I feel th' impending blow,
And glory in the near approach of death;
For when thou see'st my corse devoid of breath,
My constancy and truth thou sure wilt know,
Welcome to me Oblivion's shade obscure!
Welcome the loss of fortune, life, and fame!
But thy loved features, and thy honored name,
Deep graven on my heart, shall still endure.
And these, as sacred relics, will I keep
Till that sad moment when to endless night
My long-tormented soul shall take her flight
Alas for him who on the darkened deep
Floats idly, sport of the tempestuous tide,
No port to shield him, and no star to guide!
He who gives freely gives twice.
That which is lightly gained is little valued.
For love sometimes flies and sometimes walks--runs with one
person, and goes leisurely with another: some he warms, and
some he burns; some he wounds, and others he kills: in one
and the same instant he forms and accomplishes his projects.
He often in the morning lays siege to a fortress which in
the evening surrenders to him--for no force is able to
resist him.
Heaven always favors the honest purpose.
Rank is not essential in a wife.
True nobility consists in virtue.
It is no derogation to rank to elevate beauty adorned with
virtue.
Time will discover.
"Certainly, gentlemen, if we rightly consider it, those who make
knight-errantry their profession often meet with surprising and most
stupendous adventures. For what mortal in the world, at this time
entering within this castle, and seeing us sit together as we do, will
imagine and believe us to be the same persons which in reality we are?
Who is there that can judge that this lady by my side is the great queen
we all know her to be, and that I am that Knight of the Sorrowful Figure
so universally made known by fame? It is, then, no longer to be doubted
but that this exercise and profession surpasses all others that have
been invented by man, and is so much the more honorable as it is more
exposed to dangers. Let none presume to tell me that the pen is
preferable to the sword. This may be ascertained by regarding the end
and object each of them aims at; for that intention is to be most valued
which makes the noblest end its object. The scope and end of learning, I
mean human learning (in this place I speak not of divinity, whose aim is
to guide souls to Heaven, for no other can equal a design so infinite as
that), is to give a perfection to distribute justice, bestowing upon
every one his due, and to procure and cause good laws to be observed; an
end really generous, great, and worthy of high commendation, but yet not
equal to that which knight-errantry tends to, whose object and end is
peace, which is the greatest blessing man can wish for in this life.
And, therefore, the first good news that the world received was that
which the angels brought in the night--the beginning of our day--when
they sang in the air, 'Glory to God on high, peace on earth, and to men
good-will.' And the only manner of salutation taught by our great Master
to His friends and favorites was, that entering any house they should
say, 'Peace be to this house.' And at other times He said to them, 'My
peace I give to you,' 'My peace I leave to you,' 'Peace be among you.' A
jewel and legacy worthy of such a donor, a jewel so precious that
without it there can be no happiness either in earth or heaven. This
peace is the true end of war; for arms and war are one and the same
thing. Allowing, then, this truth, that the end of war is peace, and
that in this it excels the end of learning, let us now weigh the bodily
labors the scholar undergoes against those the warrior suffers, and then
see which are the greatest.
"These, then, I say, are the sufferings and hardships a scholar endures.
First, poverty (not that they are all poor, but to urge the worst that
may be in this case); and having said he endures poverty, methinks
nothing more need be urged to express his misery; for he that is poor
enjoys no happiness, but labors under this poverty in all its parts, at
one time in hunger, at another in cold, another in nakedness, and
sometimes in all of them together; yet his poverty is not so great, but
still he eats, though it be later than the usual hour, and of the scraps
of the rich; neither can the scholar miss of somebody's stove or
fireside to sit by; where, though he be not thoroughly heated, yet he
may gather warmth, and at last sleep away the night under a roof. I will
not touch upon other less material circumstances, as the want of linen,
and scarcity of shoes, thinness and baldness of their clothes, and their
surfeiting when good fortune throws a feast in their way; this is the
difficult and uncouth path they tread, often stumbling and falling, yet
rising again and pushing on, till they attain the preferment they aim
at; whither being arrived, we have seen many of them, who, having been
carried by a fortunate gale through all these quick-sands, from a chair
govern the world; their hunger being changed into satiety, their cold
into comfortable warmth, their nakedness into magnificence of apparel,
and the mats they used to lie upon, into stately beds of costly silks
and softest linen, a reward due to their virtue. But yet their
sufferings, being compared to those the soldier endures, appear much
inferior, as I shall in the next place make out."
Don Quixote, after a short pause, continued his discourse thus:--"Since,
in speaking of the scholar, we began with his poverty and its several
branches, let us see whether the soldier be richer. We shall find that
poverty itself is not more poor: for he depends on his wretched pay,
which comes late, and sometimes never; or upon what he can pillage, at
the imminent risk of his life and conscience. Such often is his
nakedness that his slashed buff-doublet serves him both for finery and
shirt; and in the midst of winter, on the open plain, he has nothing to
warm him but the breath of his mouth, which, issuing from an empty
place, must needs be cold. But let us wait, and see whether night will
make amends for these inconveniences: if his bed be too narrow it is his
own fault, for he may measure out as many feet of earth as he pleases,
and roll himself thereon at pleasure without fear of rumpling the
sheets. Suppose the moment arrived of taking his degree--I mean,
suppose-the day of battle come: his doctoral cap may then be of lint, to
cover some gun-shot wound, which perhaps has gone through his temples,
or deprived him of an arm or leg.
"And even suppose that Heaven in its mercy should preserve him alive and
unhurt, he will probably remain as poor as ever; for he must be engaged
and victorious 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 number of those that have reaped the reward
of their services, compared with those who have perished in war. The
dead are countless; whereas those who survived to be rewarded may be
numbered with three figures. Not so with scholars, who by their salaries
(I will not say their perquisites) are generally handsomely provided
for. Thus the labors of the soldier are greater, although his reward is
less. It may be said in answer to this, that it is easier to reward two
thousand scholars than thirty thousand soldiers: for scholars are
rewarded by employments which must of course be given to men of their
profession; whereas the soldier can only be rewarded by the property of
the master whom, he serves; and this defence serves to strengthen my
argument.
"But, waiving this point, let us consider the comparative claims to
pre-eminence: for the partisans of each can bring powerful arguments in
support of their own cause. It is said in favor of letters that without
them arms could not subsist; for war must 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 the public roads
are protected, cities guarded, states defended, kingdoms preserved, and
the seas cleared of corsairs and pirates. In short, without arms there
would be no safety for cities, commonwealths or kingdoms. Besides, it is
just to estimate a pursuit in proportion to the cost of its attainment.
Now it is true that eminence in learning is purchased by time, watching,
hunger, nakedness, vertigo, indigestion, and many other inconveniences
already mentioned; but a man who rises gradually to be a good soldier
endures all these, and far more. What is the hunger and poverty which
menace the man of letters compared with the situation of the soldier,
who, besieged in some fortress, and placed as sentinel in some ravelin
or _cavalier_, perceives that the enemy is mining toward the place where
he stands, and yet he must on no account stir from his post or shun the
imminent danger that threatens him? All that he can do in such a case is
to give notice to his officer of what passes, that he may endeavor to
counteract it; in the meantime he must stand his ground, in momentary
expectation of being mounted to the clouds without wings, and then
dashed headlong to the earth. And if this be thought but a trifling
danger, let us see whether it be equalled or exceeded by the encounter
of two galleys, prow to prow, in the midst of the white sea, locked and
grappled 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 as many
threatening ministers of death before him as there are pieces of
artillery pointed at him from the opposite side, not the length of a
lance from his body; though he knows that the first slip of his foot
sends him to the bottom of the sea; yet, with an undaunted heart,
inspired by honor, he exposes himself as a mark to all their fire, and
endeavors by that narrow pass to force his way into the enemy's vessel!
And, what is most worthy of admiration, no sooner is one fallen, never,
to rise again in this world, than another takes his place; and if he
also fall into the sea, which lies in wait to devour him, another and
another succeeds without intermission! In all the extremities of war
there is no example of courage and intrepidity to exceed this. Happy
those ages which knew not the dreadful fury of artillery!--those
instruments of hell (where, I verily believe, the inventor is now
receiving the reward of his diabolical ingenuity), by means of which the
cowardly and the base can deprive the bravest soldier of life. While a
gallant spirit animated with heroic ardor is pressing to glory, comes a
chance ball, sent by one who perhaps fled in alarm at the flash of his
own accursed weapon, and in an instant cuts short the life of him who
deserved to live for ages! When I consider this, I could almost repent
having undertaken this profession of knight-errantry in so detestable an
age; for though no danger can daunt me, still it gives me some concern
to think that powder and lead may suddenly cut short my career of glory.
But Heaven's will be done! I have this satisfaction, that I shall
acquire the greater fame if I succeed, inasmuch as the perils by which I
am beset are greater than those to which the knights-errant of past ages
were exposed."
The army is a school in which the miser becomes generous,
and the generous prodigal.
A covetous soldier is a monster which is rarely seen.
Liberality may be carried too far in those who have children
to inherit from them.
How seldom promises made in slavery are remembered after a
release from bondage.
Good fortune seldom comes pure and single, unattended by
some troublesome or unexpected circumstance.
Though we love the treason we abhor the traitor.
What transport in life can equal that which a man feels on
the restoration of his liberty?
"The church, the court, or the sea;" as if it more fully
expressed the following advice,--He that would make his
fortune, ought either to dedicate his time to the church, go
to sea as a merchant, or attach himself to the court: for it
is commonly observed, that "the king's crumb is worth the
baron's batch."[5]