‘I would fain present your worship with something, but I know not

what to send, except some clyster-pipes, which are very curiously

turned and mounted in this island; though, if my office holds, it

shall go hard but I will find something to send, either by hook or

crook. If my wife Teresa Panza should write to me, I beg your

worship will pay the postage, and forward the letter; for I am

extremely desirous to know the state of my family, my wife, and

children. And, now, the Lord deliver your worship from

evil-designing inchanters, and safely and peaceably quit me of this

government; which I very much doubt; for I believe I shall leave my

bones in it, so cruelly am I treated by Doctor Pedro Positive. Your

worship’s humble servant,

‘SANCHO PANZA THE GOVERNOR.’

The secretary having sealed this letter, dispatched it with the courier;

and those who executed the jokes upon Sancho, laying their heads

together, contrived a scheme for dismissing him from the administration.

The evening his excellency spent in making some wholesome regulations

touching the government of what he imagined to be an island. Among other

things, he ordained that there should be no monopolizers of provisions

in the commonwealth: that wine should be imported from all parts

indifferently, at the pleasure of the merchant; with this addition, that

he should declare the place from whence it came, so as that a price

might be set upon it, according to its worth, fame, and estimation: and

he who should be detected in dashing it with water, or falsifying its

name, should suffer death for the offence. He moderated the price of all

kinds of hose, and particularly that of shoes, which he looked upon as

exorbitant; he rated the wages of servants who went at full gallop in

the road of interest; he laid severe penalties upon those who should

sing lewd and lascivious ballads, by night or by day; he ordered that no

blind man should sing his miracle in couplets, without an authentick

testimony of the truth; it appearing that the greatest part of those

sung by blind persons, are false and feigned, to the prejudice of those

which are true; he made and appointed an overseer of the poor, not to

persecute, but to examine whether or not they were real objects; for

sturdy thieves and hale drunkards often screen themselves in the shade

of feigned lameness, and counterfeit sores. In a word, he made so many

good regulations, that they are hitherto preserved in the place, and

called, The Constitutions of the Great Governor Sancho Panza.

CHAP. XX.

IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE ADVENTURE OF THE SECOND AFFLICTED,

OR SORROWFUL MATRON,

OTHERWISE CALLED DONNA RODRIGUEZ.

Cid Hamet recounts, that Don Quixote being now cured of his scratches,

began to think the life he led in the castle was altogether contrary to

the order of chivalry which he professed; and therefore he determined to

beg leave of the duke and duchess to set out for Saragossa, as the time

of the tournament approached; for there he laid his account with winning

the armour which is the reward of the victor. Accordingly, while he one

day sat at table with the duke and duchess, he began to execute his

resolution in asking leave; when behold, all of a sudden, two women, as

it afterwards appeared, entered the dining-room, covered with mourning

from head to foot. One of them approaching Don Quixote, prostrated

herself before him, and with her mouth close to his feet, uttered such

melancholy, profound, and doleful groans, as overwhelmed all the

spectators with confusion: for, although the duke and duchess imagined

it was some joke which the servants intended to perpetrate upon the

knight; yet, seeing how violently the woman sighed, groaned, and wept,

they remained doubtful and in suspense, until the compassionate Don

Quixote raised her from the ground, and intreated her to discover

herself, by taking away the veil that concealed her rueful face. She

complied with his request, and shewed herself to be what nobody believed

she was; for she displayed the individual countenance of Donna

Rodriguez, the duenna of the house, and the other mourner was her

daughter, who had been seduced by the rich farmer’s son. All who knew

her were struck with admiration, and the duke and duchess more than any

body; for, although they took her to be a fool, and a person of a soft

disposition, they did not think her folly could have risen to such acts

of extravagance. In fine, Donna Rodriguez addressing herself to the duke

and duchess, ‘I hope,’ said she, ‘your excellencies will give me leave

to communicate a little with this knight: for it is necessary I should

confer with him, that I may be safely extricated from the dilemma in

which I am involved by the presumption of an evil-minded clown.’

The duke having assured her she was at full liberty to confer with

Signior Don Quixote as much as she pleased, she directed her voice and

her countenance to the knight, saying, ‘Some days are elapsed, most

valiant knight, since I gave you an account of the wrong and treachery

which a wicked peasant has done my dearly-beloved daughter, who is this

unfortunate creature now standing before you; and you promised, in her

behalf, to redress the wrong she had suffered: but now I am informed

that you are going to depart from this castle, in quest of the happy

adventures God shall throw in your way; and therefore I could wish that

before you begin your career through those paths, you would defy this

inflexible rustick, and compel him to marry my daughter, and so fulfil

the promise he made of being her spouse, before he first yoked with her

in the way of love; for, to think my lord duke will do me justice, is

the same as to look for pears upon an elm, for the reason which I

explained to your worship in private. And upon these terms, the Lord

preserve your worship’s health, and grant us his protection.’

To this address, Don Quixote, with great gravity and stateliness of

deportment, replied, ‘Worthy duenna, moderate, or rather dry up your

tears, and spare your sighs; for here I undertake to redress the

grievances of your daughter: though it would have been better for her,

had not she so easily believed the protestations of lovers, who, for the

most part, are very ready and alert to promise, but very heavy and

backward in the performance; nevertheless, with the good leave of my

lord duke, I will forthwith set out in quest of this perfidious youth,

and having found him, defy and slay him, whensoe’er and wheresoe’er he

shall refuse to perform his promise; for the principal aim of my

profession is, to pardon the humble, and chastize the haughty; that is,

to succour the wretched, and destroy the cruel.’—‘Your worship,’ replied

the duke, ‘need not give yourself the trouble to go in quest of the

rustick who is the subject of this worthy duenna’s complaint; nor is

there any occasion for your worship’s asking my leave to challenge him

to single combat; I consider the challenge as already given; I undertake

for its being conveyed to the party, and even for its acceptance; and

promise that he shall come to answer for himself in person at this

castle, where I will furnish both with a listed field, and observe all

the conditions that are wont and ought to be observed in such

encounters; for justice shall be equally done to each, according to the

obligation that lies on all those princes who furnish lists for

combatants within the limits of their territories.’—‘With this security,

then, and the good leave of your grace,’ replied Don Quixote, ‘I now,

for once, renounce my gentility, humble and adjust myself to the level

of the delinquent, making myself equal with him, that he may be entitled

and enabled to fight with me: I therefore, though in his absence,

challenge and defy him, for his wickedness in seducing this poor

creature, who was a maid, and now, through his fault, is deprived of her

maidenhead; and he shall either perform the promise he made of being her

lawful spouse, or die in default of the performance.’

So saying, he pulled off one of his gloves, and threw it into the middle

of the hall; this was taken up by the duke, who said he accepted the

challenge in the name of his vassal: he likewise appointed the time at

the distance of six days, and pitched upon the courtyard of the castle

as the field of action: then they agreed to wear the usual arms of

knights; namely, the lance, the shield, the plaited coat of mail, and

all other pieces, without the least fraud, treachery, or superstition,

to be viewed and examined by the judges of the lists.—‘But, before we

proceed,’ said the duke, ‘it will be necessary that this good duenna,

and this mistaken maid, should put the justice of their cause into the

hands of Signior Don Quixote; otherwise nothing to the purpose will be

done, nor will the challenge ever come to due execution.’

‘I do put my cause into his hands,’ replied the duenna. ‘And I too,’

cried the daughter; all in tears, and overwhelmed with shame and

confusion. The particulars of this affair being adjusted, and the duke

having determined with himself what was to be done in the family, the

mourners retired, and the duchess ordered that for the future they

should not be treated as her servants, but as ladies adventurers come to

her house to demand justice: she therefore allotted a separate apartment

to themselves, and they were attended as strangers, not without the

amazement of other servants, who could not conceive what would be the

issue of the folly and effrontery of Donna Rodriguez and her indiscreet

and unhappy daughter.

At this instant, in order to compleat the mirth of the company, and

finish their meal with more enjoyment, who should enter the hall but the

page who carried the letters and presents to Teresa Panza, the wife of

Governor Sancho Panza! The duke and duchess were extremely pleased at

his arrival, and desirous to know the particulars of his journey, about

which he was questioned accordingly. The page answered that he could not

describe them in publick, or in a few words; but begged their

excellencies would be pleased to reserve the account for their private

ear; and, in the mean time entertain themselves with these letters. So

saying, he produced two letters, and gave them to the duchess, one

superscribed in these words: ‘To my Lady Duchess of I know not what nor

where.’ And the other directed, ‘To my husband Sancho Panza, governor of

the island Barataria, whom God prosper many more years than myself.’

The duchess would not toast her cake, as the saying is, until she had

read her letter, which having opened and perused by herself, when she

perceived it might be recited aloud for the benefit of the duke and the

company, she rehearsed it with an audible voice, to this effect.

TERESA PANZA’S LETTER TO THE DUCHESS.

‘I received great satisfaction, my lady, from the letter your grace

was pleased to write to me; for, in truth, it was what I greatly

desired; the string of coral is very good, and my husband’s

hunting-suit comes not short of it. Your ladyship’s having made my

spouse Sancho a governor, has given great pleasure to all our town,

although there are some who cannot believe it, especially the curate

Mr. Nicholas, the barber, and the batchelor Sampson Carrasco; but

that gives me no trouble; for seeing it be so, as it certainly is,

let people say what they will: though, if the truth must be told,

had not the string of coral and the hunting-suit come, I should not

have believed it myself; for in our town, every body takes my

husband for a noodle, and taken as he was, from governing an herd of

goats, they cannot conceive what other government he can be good

for. The Lord make him fit for his office, and conduct him in that

way which will be most for the advantage of his children!

‘For my own part, dear lady of my soul, I am resolved, with your

honour’s leave, to bring this happy day home to my own house, and

hie me to the court, where I will loll in my coach, and burst the

eyes of a thousand people who envy my good fortune: I beg,

therefore, your excellency will tell my husband to send me money,

and let it be a round sum; for it is very expensive living at court,

where bread sells for a rial, and meat for thirty maravedis a pound;

and that is an unconscionable price. If he does not chuse that I

should go, let him give me notice in time, for my feet itch to be a

travelling; and my neighbours and gossips tell me, if I and my

daughter go to court, and appear in pomp and grandeur, my husband

will come to be known by me, more than I by him; because, when

people ask, “Who are these ladies in that coach?” one of my servants

will answer, “These are the wife and daughter of Sancho Panza,

governor of the island Barataria.” And in this manner Sancho will be

known, I shall be respected, and to Rome for every thing.

‘I was vexed to the heart that this year there was no acorn harvest

in our town; nevertheless I send your highness about half a peck,

which I gathered one by one upon the mountain, and went thither on

purpose: I could find none larger, though I wish they were as big as

ostrich eggs.

‘I hope your pomposity will not forget to write to me, and I will

take care to send an answer, giving an account of my own health, and

of every thing that may be worth mentioning from this place, where I

remain praying to our Lord that he will preserve your grace, without

forgetting me. My daughter Sanchica and my son kiss your honour’s

hand: and this is all at present from her who had much rather see

your grace, than subscribe herself, your humble servant,

‘TERESA PANZA.’

Great was the satisfaction which all the hearers received from this

letter of Teresa Panza, though the greatest share fell to the duke and

duchess; and her grace asked Don Quixote, whether or not he thought it

would be proper to open the letter directed for the governor, which she

imagined must be excellent in its kind. The knight said he would open

it, to oblige her grace; and having done so, found the contents to this

purpose.

TERESA PANZA’S LETTER TO HER HUSBAND SANCHO PANZA.

‘I received thy letter, dear Sancho of my soul, and I promise and

swear to thee, on the faith of a catholick christian, I was within

two fingers breadth of running mad with joy; and take notice,

brother, when I heard thou wast a governor, I had like to have

dropped down dead with pure pleasure; for thou knowest they say,

sudden joy kills as well as deadly sorrow: thy daughter Sanchica

scattered her water about insensibly, out of mere satisfaction: thy

hunting-suit lay before me, the string of corals sent by my lady

duchess was tied round my neck, the letters were in my hand, and the

messenger in my presence; and yet, I imagined and believed, that all

I saw and handled was a dream; for who could conceive that a

goatherd should come to be governor of islands? Thou know’st, my

friend, that my mother said, One must live long to see a great deal:

this I mention, because I hope to see more if I live longer; for I

do not intend to stop, until I see thee a farmer, or collector of

the revenue; offices which, though they carry those who abuse them

to the devil, are, in short, always bringing in the penny.

‘My lady duchess will tell thee how desirous I am of going to court:

consider of it, and let me know thy pleasure; for I will endeavour

to do thee honour there, by riding in my coach.

‘The curate, barber, batchelor, and even the sexton, cannot believe

thou art a governor, and say the whole is a deception or matter of

inchantment, like all the affairs of thy master Don Quixote. Sampson

vows he will go in quest of thee, and drive this government out of

thy head, as well as the madness out of Don Quixote’s scull: I say

nothing, but laugh in my own sleeve, look at my beads, and contrive

how to make thy hunting-suit into a gown and petticoat for our

daughter. I have sent some acorns to my lady duchess, and I wish

they were of gold: send me some strings of pearl, if they are in

fashion in thy island. The news of our town are these: the widow of

the hill has matched her daughter with a bungling painter, who came

here and undertook all sorts of brush-work; the corporation employed

him to paint his majesty’s arms over the door of the town house; he

demanded two ducats for the job, and they paid him beforehand; but

after he had laboured eight whole days, he produced nothing, and

saying he could not hit upon such trifles, returned the money; and

yet for all that, he married with the character of a good workman;

true it is, he hath already laid aside the pencil, and taken up the

spade, and goes to the field like a gentleman. Pedro de Lobo’s son

has taken orders, and shaved his head, with intention to become a

priest; and this circumstance being known by Minguilla, niece of

Mingo Silvato, she is going to sue him upon promise of marriage:

evil tongues scruple not to say she is with child by him; but this

he positively denies. This year there are no olives, nor a drop of

vinegar in the whole town. A company of soldiers marching this way,

carried off three girls belonging to the village; but I will not

tell thee who they are, because perhaps they will return, and then

there will not be wanting husbands who will take them with all their

faults. Sanchica, by making bone-lace, clears eight maravedis a day,

which she keeps in a pipkin, to be a stock to her when she grows up:

but now, that she is a governor’s daughter, thou wilt give her a

portion without her working for it. The publick fountain is dried

up. A thunder-bolt fell upon the pillory, and there may they always

light! I expect an answer to this epistle, and thy resolution about

my going to court: and so, God preserve thee more years than I have

to live, or as many; for I should not chuse to leave thee behind me

in this world. Thy faithful spouse,

‘TERESA PANZA.’

The letters were read with admiration, esteem, laughter, and applause;

and the entertainment was crowned by the arrival of the courier who

brought Sancho’s epistle to Don Quixote, which, being likewise recited

in publick, rendered the governor’s folly extremely doubtful. The

duchess retired, in order to be informed by the page of what had

happened to him in Sancho’s village; and he recounted the particulars at

large, without leaving one circumstance untold: he delivered the acorns,

together with a cheese, which Teresa vouched for excellent, and even

preferred to those of Tronchon. This the duchess received with excessive

pleasure, in the enjoyment of which we will leave her grace, and relate

in what manner concluded the government of the great Sancho Panza, the

flower and mirrour of all insulary governors.

END OF BOOK III. PART II.

BOOK IV.

CHAP. I.

OF THE TOILFUL END AND CONCLUSION OF SANCHO PANZA’S GOVERNMENT.

To think the affairs of this life will always remain in the same

posture, is a wild supposition; on the contrary, every thing goes in a

round; I mean, goes round. Spring succeeds winter, summer follows

spring, autumn comes after summer, and winter comes in the rear of

autumn; then spring resumes its verdure, and time turns round on an

incessant wheel. The life of man alone runs lightly to its end, unlike

the circle of time, without hope of renewal, except in another life,

which knows no bounds. Thus moralizes Cid Hamet, the Mahometan

philosopher; for the knowledge of the frailty and instability of the

present life, together with the eternal duration of that which we

expect, many, without the light of faith, by natural instinct have

attained. But here our author makes the observation on account of the

celerity with which Sancho’s government was finished, consumed,

destroyed, and dissolved into smoke and vapour.

This poor governor being a-bed on the seventh night of his

administration, not crammed with bread and wine, but fatigued with

sitting in judgment, passing sentence, and making statutes and

regulations; and sleep, maugre and in despight of hunger, beginning to

weigh down his eye-lids, his ears were saluted with a terrible noise of

bells and cries, as if the whole island had been going to wreck.

Sitting up in his bed, he listened attentively, in hope of comprehending

the meaning and cause of such a mighty uproar: however, he not only

failed in his expectation; but the noise of the cries and the bells

being reinforced by that of an infinite number of drums and trumpets, he

remained more terrified, confounded, and aghast, than ever. Then

starting up, he put on his slippers, on account of the dampness of the

ground; though without wrapping himself up in his morning-gown, or in

any other sort of apparel; and opening the door of his apartment, saw

above twenty persons running through the gallery, with lighted torches,

and naked swords in their hands, exclaiming aloud, and all together,

‘Arm, arm, my Lord Governor, arm! a vast number of the enemy has landed

on the island; and we are lost and undone, unless protected by your

valour and activity.’

With this clamour, fury, and disturbance, they rushed towards Sancho,

who stood astonished and perplexed at what he saw and heard, and when

they came up to the spot, one of them accosting him, ‘Arm, my lord,’

said he, ‘unless you want to perish, and see the whole island

destroyed.’—‘For what should I arm?’ replied Sancho; ‘I neither know

the use of arms, nor can I give you protection. These matters had

better be left to my master Don Quixote; who, in the turning of a

straw, would dispatch the whole affair, and put every thing in safety;

but, for me, as I am a sinner to God, I understand nothing of these

hurly-burlys!’—‘How! my Lord Governor,’ cried another, ‘what

despondence is this? Put on your armour, Signior; here we have brought

arms offensive and defensive; come forth to the market-place, and be

our guide and our general, seeing of right that place belongs to you,

as being our governor.’—‘Arm me, then, a God’s name!’ replied Sancho.

At that instant they took two large bucklers they had brought along

with them, and putting over his shirt (for they would not give him

time to clothe himself) one buckler before and another behind, they

pulled his arms through certain holes they had made in the targets,

and fastened them well together with cords, in such a manner, that the

poor governor remained quite inclosed, and boarded up as straight as a

spindle, without being able to bend his knees, or move one single

step; and in his hands they put a lance, with which he supported

himself as he stood. Having cooped him up in this manner, they desired

him to march out, and conduct and animate his people; in which case he

being the north star, their lanthorn, and Lucifer, their affairs would

be brought to a prosperous issue. ‘How should I march, unfortunate

wight that I am,’ said Sancho, ‘when my very knee pans have not room

to play, so much am I cramped by those boards, which are squeezed into

my very flesh? Your only way is to take me up in your arms, and lay me

across, or set me upright in some postern, which I will defend either

with this lance or this carcase.’—‘Come, my Lord Governor,’ replied

the other, ‘you are more hampered by fear than by your bucklers. Make

haste, and exert yourself, for it grows late; the enemies swarm, the

noise increases, and the danger is very pressing.’

In consequence of this persuasion and reproach, the poor governor

endeavoured to move, and down he came to the ground with such a fall

that he believed himself split to pieces. There he lay like a tortoise

covered with its shell, or a flitch of bacon between two trays; or,

lastly, like a boat stranded with her keel uppermost. Yet his fall did

not excite the compassion of those unlucky wags; on the contrary,

extinguishing their torches, they renewed the clamour, and repeated the

alarm with such hurry and confusion, trampling upon the unhappy Sancho,

and bestowing a thousand strokes upon the bucklers, that if he had not

gathered, and shrunk himself up, with drawing his head within the

targets, the poor governor would have passed his time but very

indifferently; shrunk as he was within that narrow lodging, he sweated

all over with fear and consternation, and heartily recommended himself

to God, that he might be delivered from the danger that encompassed him.

Some stumbled, and others fell over him; nay, one of the party stood

upon him for a considerable time, and thence, as from a watch-tower,

gave orders to the army, exclaiming with a loud voice, ‘This way, my

fellow-soldiers; for here the enemy make their chief effort! Guard this

breach; shut that gate; down with those scaling ladders; bring up the

fire-pots, with the kettles of melted pitch, rosin, and boiling oil;

barricado the streets with woolpacks!’ In a word, he named with great

eagerness, all the implements, instruments, and munition of war, used in

the defence of a city assaulted; while the bruised and battered Sancho,

who heard the din, and suffered grievously, said within himself, ‘O!

would it please the Lord that the island were quickly lost, that I might

see myself either dead or delivered from this distress!’ Heaven heard

his petition, and when he least expected such relief, his ears were

saluted with a number of voices, crying, ‘Victory! victory! the enemy is

overcome! Rise, my Lord Governor, and enjoy your conquest; and divide

the spoil taken from the foe by the valour of your invincible arm.’

The afflicted Sancho, with a plaintive voice, desired them to lift him

up; and when they helped him to rise and set him on his legs again, ‘I

wish,’ said he, ‘the enemy I have conquered were nailed to my forehead.

I want to divide no spoils; but I beg, and supplicate some friend, if

any such I have, to bring me a draught of wine; and that he will wipe me

dry of this sweat which has turned me into water.’ They accordingly

wiped him clean, brought the wine, untied the bucklers, and seated him

upon his bed, where he fainted away through fear, consternation, and

fatigue. Those concerned in the joke now began to be sorry for having

laid it on so heavy; but Sancho’s recovery moderated their uneasiness at

his swooning. He asked what it was o’clock; and they answered it was

day-break: then, without speaking another syllable, he began to dress

himself, in the most profound silence; and all present gazed upon him

with looks of expectation, impatient to know the meaning of his dressing

himself so earnestly. At length, having put on his cloaths very

leisurely, for his bruises would not admit of precipitation, he hied him

to the stable, attended by all the by-standers, where, advancing to

Dapple, he embraced him affectionately, and gave him the kiss of peace

upon the forehead, saying, while the tears trickled from his eyes, ‘Come

hither, my dear companion! my friend, and sharer of all my toil and

distress; when you and I consorted together, and I was plagued with no

other thoughts than the care of mending your furniture and pampering

your little body, happy were my hours, my days, and my years! but since

I quitted you, and mounted on the towers of pride and ambition, my soul

has been invaded by a thousand miseries, a thousand toils, and four

thousand disquiets.’

While he uttered this apostrophe, he was employed in putting the

pack-saddle on his ass, without being interrupted by any living soul;

and Dapple being equipped for the road, he made shift to mount him, with

great pain and difficulty: then, directing his words and discourse to

the steward, secretary, sewer, Doctor Pedro, and many others who were

present, ‘Make way, gentlemen,’ said he, ‘and let me return to my

ancient liberty; let me go in quest of my former life, that I may enjoy

a resurrection from this present death: I was not born to be a governor,

or to defend islands and cities from the assaults of their enemies. I am

better versed in ploughing and delving, in pruning and planting vines,

than in enacting laws, and defending provinces and kingdoms. I know St.

Peter is well at Rome—that is, every one does well in following the

employment to which he was bred; a sickle becomes my hand better than a

governor’s sceptre; and I would rather fill my belly with soup-meagre,

than undergo the misery of an impertinent physician who starves me to

death. I would much rather solace myself under the shade of an oak in

summer, and clothe myself with a sheepskin jacket in the winter, being

my own master, than indulge, under the subjection of a government, with

holland sheets, and robes of sables—God be with you, gentlemen; and pray

tell my lord duke, Naked I was born, and naked I remain; and if I lose

nothing, as little I gain. That is, I would say, Pennyless I took

possession of this government, and pennyless I resign my office; quite

the reverse of what is usually the case with governors of other islands.

Make way, therefore, and let me go and be plaistered; for I believe all

my ribs are crushed, thanks to the enemies who have this night passed

and repassed over my carcase.’

‘It must not be so, my Lord Governor,’ said Doctor Positive: ‘I will

give your worship a draught, calculated for falls and bruises, that will

instantly restore you to your former health and vigour; and with respect

to the article of eating, I promise your lordship to make amends, and

let you eat abundantly of every thing you desire.’—‘Your promise comes

too late,’ answered Sancho; ‘and I will as soon turn Turk as forbear

going. Those are no jokes to be repeated. Before God! I will as soon

remain in this, or accept of any other government, even though it should

be presented in a covered dish, as I will fly to Heaven without the help

of wings. I am of the family of the Panzas, who are all headstrong, and

if once they say Odds, odds it must be, though in fact it be even, in

spite of all the world. In this stable I leave the pismire’s wings, that

carried me up into the clouds, to make me a prey to martlets and other

birds; and now let us alight, and walk softly and securely on the

ground; and if my feet are not adorned with pinked shoes of Cordovan

leather, they shall not want coarse sandals of cord or rushes; Let ewe

and wether go together; and, Nobody thrust his feet beyond the length of

his sheet. Now, therefore, let me pass, for it grows late.’

To this address the steward replied, ‘We shall freely allow your

lordship to go, although we shall be great sufferers in losing you,

whose ingenuity, and Christian conduct, oblige us to desire your stay;

but it is well known that every governor is obliged, before he quits his

government, to submit his administration to a scrutiny; and if your

lordship will give an account of yours, during the seven days you have

stood at the helm, you may depart in peace, and God be your

guide.’—‘Nobody can call me to an account,’ said Sancho, ‘but such as

are appointed by my lord duke. Now to him am I a going, and to him will

I render it fairly and squarely; besides, there is no occasion for any

other proof than my leaving you naked as I am, to shew that I have

governed like an angel.’—‘’Fore God! the great Sancho is in the right,’

cried Doctor Positive; ‘and, in my opinion, we ought to let him retire;

for the duke will be infinitely rejoiced to see him.’

All the rest assented to the proposal, and allowed him to pass; after

having offered to bear him company, and provide him with every thing he

should want for entertainment of his person, and the convenience of the

journey. Sancho said he wanted nothing but a little barley for Dapple,

and half a cheese, with half a loaf, for himself, the journey being so

short, that he had no occasion for any better or more ample provision.

All the company embraced him, and were in their turns embraced by the

weeping Sancho, who left them, equally astonished at his discourse, as

at his resolute and wise determination.

CHAP. II.

WHICH TREATS OF MATTERS BELONGING TO THIS HISTORY, AND NO OTHER

WHATSOEVER.

The duke and duchess resolved, that the defiance which Don Quixote

breathed against their vassal for the cause already mentioned, should be

answered; and although the young man was in Flanders, whither he had

fled to avoid such a mother-in-law as Donna Rodriguez, they determined

to supply his place with a Gascon lacquey, called Tosilos, whom they

beforehand minutely instructed how to behave on this occasion.

Two days after these measures were taken, the duke told Don Quixote that

in four days his antagonist would come and present himself in the lists,

armed as a knight, and maintain that the damsel lyed by one half of her

beard, and even by every hair of it, if she affirmed that he had

promised her marriage. The knight received these tidings with great

pleasure, flattering himself he should do something to excite the

admiration of the whole family; and he thought himself extremely

fortunate in having found an opportunity of shewing this noble pair how

far the valour of his powerful arm extended. He, therefore, with great

joy and satisfaction, waited the expiration of the four days, which,

reckoned by his impatience, seemed equal to four hundred centuries.

In the mean time, let them pass, as we have already let many other

matters pass; and attend Sancho, who, between merry and sad, jogged

along upon Dapple, in quest of his master, whose company he preferred to

the government of all the islands upon earth. Well, then, he had not

travelled far from the island of his government, (for he never dreamed

of being certified whether what he governed was island, city, town, or

village) when he saw coming towards him six pilgrims, with their staves,

of that sort which begs charity by singing. So soon, therefore, as they

approached him, they made a lane; and, raising their voices together,

began to sing in their language, though Sancho understood nothing of

what they said, except the word Charity, which they distinctly

pronounced; so that he immediately conceived the meaning of their

outlandish song. Now, he being, according to the asseveration of Cid

Hamet, extremely charitable, took out of his bags and gave them the

bread and cheese with which he had been furnished, making them

understand by signs, that he had nothing else to give. They received his

benefaction chearfully, pronouncing, however, the word, ‘_Guelte_,

_Guelte_;’ to which Sancho answering—‘I really do not understand what

you want, good people:’ one of them took a purse from his bosom, and

held it up, giving him to understand they wanted money. Then Sancho

clapping his thumb to his throat, and displaying the back of his hand,

signified that he had not so much as the corner of a rial, and spurred

up Dapple, in order to make his way through the midst of them. As he

passed, one of them having considered him very attentively, laid hold on

Dapple’s halter, and clasping him round the middle, exclaimed aloud, in

very good Castilian—‘The Lord protect me! what is this I see? Is it

possible that I actually held in my arms my dear friend, and good

neighbour, Sancho Panza? Yes, doubtless; for I am neither asleep nor

drunk.’

Sancho was astonished to hear his own name, and see himself embraced by

a pilgrim, and a stranger, whom, though he silently gazed upon him with

the utmost attention, he could by no means recollect. The pilgrim

perceiving his surprize—‘Is it possible, brother Sancho Panza,’ said he,

‘that thou dost not know thy neighbour Ricote, the Moresco shopkeeper,

that lived in your town?’ Then Sancho, reviewing him with greater

attention, began to recal his features; and at length, perfectly

recognizing the Moor, he, without alighting, threw his arms about his

neck, saying—‘Who the devil could know thee, Ricote, in that disguise?

Tell me who has pilgrimized thee; and wherefore hast thou dared to

return to Spain, where, if thou art found and known, thou wilt suffer

for thy rashness?’—‘If thou wilt not discover me, Sancho, I am secure,’

replied the pilgrim; ‘for in this disguise, nobody will know me. Let us

quit the high-road, and remove to yon poplar grove, where my companions

intend to take some refreshment and repose; there thou shalt partake

with them, for they are a very good sort of people; and there I shall

have leisure to recount every thing that has befallen me since I

departed from our town, in obedience to his majesty’s proclamation,

which so severely threatened the unfortunate people of my nation; as, no

doubt, thou hast heard.’

Sancho assented to his proposal; and Ricote having spoke to the other

pilgrims, they betook themselves to the tuft of poplars, at a good

distance from the high-road. There they threw down their staves, laid

aside their rochets or mantles, so as to remain in their doublets; and

all of them appeared to be young men of genteel persons, except Ricote,

who was already advanced in years. Each had a wallet, in all appearance

well provided; at least, with incentives which provoked thirst, at the

distance of two leagues. They stretched themselves upon the ground, and

using the grass as a table-cloth, spread upon it bread, salt, knives,

nuts, crusts of cheese, and some clean bones of bacon, which, though

they could not be eaten, were in a condition to be sucked with pleasure.

They likewise produced a black dish, which they called caviere, made of

the roes of fishes, a great awakener of drought; nor did they want

olives, which, though dry and without pickles, were very savoury and

delicate; but what made the best figure in the field of this banquet,

was a bottle of wine which every pilgrim drew forth from his wallet, not

excepting honest Ricote, who, being transformed from a Moor into a

German or Teutonian, pulled out his bottle also, which in size might

have vied with all the other five. They began to eat with infinite

relish, and great deliberation, smacking their lips at every mouthful

which they took with the point of a knife, though they are but little;

then, all at once, the whole squadron together raised their arms and

bottles aloft, and joining mouth to mouth, with their eyes fixed on the

firmament, they seemed to take aim at heaven. In this manner, shaking

their heads from side to side, in token of the satisfaction they

received, they continued a good while in the act of transfusing the

contents of the bottles into their own bellies.

Sancho beheld this scene, with every part of which he was perfectly well

pleased; and, in compliance with the proverb which he very well knew,

importing, ‘When thou art at Rome, follow the fashion of Rome,’ he

begged an embrace of Ricote’s bottle, and took his aim like the rest;

nor was his satisfaction inferior to theirs. Four times did their

bottles admit of elevation; but the fifth was to no purpose: for, by

that time, they were as clean and as dry as a rush; a circumstance that

threw a damp upon the mirth which had hitherto prevailed. From time to

time each pilgrim, in his turn, shook hands with Sancho,

saying—‘Spaniard or German, all one, goot companion.’ To which

compliment Sancho replied—‘Goot companion, by the Lord!’ bursting out

into a fit of laughter which lasted a whole hour, without remembering at

that time the least circumstance of what had happened to him in his

government; for over the times and seasons of eating and drinking, care

seldom holds jurisdiction. Finally, the conclusion of the wine was the

beginning of sleep, which overwhelmed the whole company, and stretched

them along upon the table and cloth they had been using. Ricote and

Sancho were the only two who remained awake, in consequence of having

eaten more, and drank less, than their fellows: then Ricote taking

Sancho aside, they sat down at the root of a beech, leaving the pilgrims

buried in an agreeable slumber; and without stumbling in the least upon

his Moresco language, he spoke in pure Castilian to this effect.

‘Well thou knowest, O Sancho Panza, my neighbour and friend, how the

edict and proclamation which his majesty published against those of my

religion, overwhelmed us all with terror and consternation; at least,

they terrified me to such a degree, that long before the time allotted

to us for our removal from Spain, I thought the rigour of the penalty

was already executed against me and my children. I therefore resolved,

and, I think, wisely, like the man who knowing he must quit the house he

lives in, at such a time, provides himself with another to which he may

remove—I resolved, I say, to retire by myself, without my family, and go

in quest of some place to which I might carry it commodiously, without

that hurry and confusion which attended the departure of my neighbours;

for I was very well convinced, and so were all our elders, that those

edicts were not only threats, as some people said, but real laws, that

would certainly be put in execution at the appointed time: and this

truth I was compelled to believe, by knowing the base and mad designs

which our people harboured; such designs that, I verily think, his

majesty was divinely inspired to execute such a gallant resolution. Not

that we were all guilty; for some among us were firm and staunch

Christians: but they were so few in number, that they could not oppose

the schemes of those who were otherwise; and it was dangerous to nurse a

serpent in one’s bosom, by allowing the enemy to live within the house.

In a word, we were justly chastised by the sentence of banishment, mild

and gentle in the opinion of some, but to us the most terrible that

could be pronounced. In what country soever we are, we lament our exile

from Spain: for, in fine, here we were born; this is our native country;

in no clime do we find a reception suitable to our misfortunes; nay, in

Barbary, and all the other parts of Africk, where we expected to be

received, cherished, and entertained, we have been most injured and

maltreated; we knew not our happiness until we lost it; and so intense

is the longing desire which almost all of us have to return to Spain,

that the greatest part of those, and they are many, who understand the

language like me, return to this kingdom, leaving their wives and

children, unprotected abroad, such is their affection for this their

native soil; and now, I know, by experience, the truth of the common

saying, Sweet is the love of native land.

‘Leaving our town, as I have already said, I repaired to France; and,

though there we met with a civil reception, I was desirous of seeing

other countries. I, therefore, travelled into Italy, from whence I

passed into Germany, where people seemed to live with more freedom: the

natives do not pry with curious eyes into one another’s concerns; every

one lives according to his own humour; for in most parts of the empire

there is liberty of conscience. I left a house which I hired in a

village near Augsburg, and joined these pilgrims, a great number of whom

are wont to come hither yearly, on pretence of visiting the sanctuaries

of Spain, which are their Indies, as being productive of well known

advantage, and most certain gain. They traverse the whole country; and

there is not a village from which they are not dismissed with a belly

full of meat and drink, as the saying is, and a rial at least, in money;

so that at the end of their peregrination, they are above a hundred

crowns in pocket, which, being changed into gold, they conceal in the

hollow of their staves, or in the patches of their cloaks; or task their

industry in such a manner as to carry off their purchase to their own

country, in spite of the guards at the passes and gates, where they are

examined and registered.

‘My present intention, Sancho, is to carry off the money I have buried,

which being without the town, I can retrieve without danger; then I

shall write, or take a passage from Valencia, to my wife and daughter,

who, I know, are at Algiers, in order to contrive a method for

transporting them to some port of France, from whence I will conduct

them to Germany, where we will bear with resignation the will of Heaven:

for, in fine, Sancho, I am positively certain that my daughter Ricota,

and my wife Francisca Ricote, are real Catholick Christians; and, though

I myself am not entirely of that way of thinking, I have more of the

Christian than the Mussulman; and I incessantly pray to God to open the

eyes of my understanding, that I may know how to serve him in the right

way. But what excites my wonder, and baffles my penetration, is the

conduct of my wife and daughter; who have chosen to retire into Barbary,

rather than to France, where they might have lived as Christians.’

To this observation Sancho replied—‘Why, look ye, Ricote, they were not,

I suppose, at liberty to chuse for themselves, inasmuch as they were

carried off by your wife’s brother, John Tiopieyo, who, being a rank

Moor, would naturally go to the place where he himself intended to make

his abode: and, I can tell you, moreover, I believe it will be in vain

for you to go in search of what you left under ground; for we are

informed that thy wife and brother-in-law were stripped of a number of

pears, and a great deal of money, which was carried off to be

registered.’—‘That may be very true,’ said Ricote: ‘but I am certain,

Sancho, they have not touched my hoard; for I would not tell them where

it was hid, because I dreaded some misfortune: and, therefore, Sancho,

if thou wilt come along with me, and assist me in taking up and

concealing it, I will gratify thee with two hundred crowns, to relieve

thy necessities, which thou art sensible I know to be manifold.’—‘I

would comply with thy proposal,’ answered Sancho; ‘but I am not at all

covetous; were I that way inclined, I this morning quitted an employment

by which I might have been enabled to build the walls of my house of

beaten gold, and in less than six months, eat out of plate: for this

reason, therefore, and because I should think myself guilty of treason

to my king, in favouring his enemies, I will not go along with thee,

even though in lieu of promising me two hundred, thou shouldst here lay

down four hundred crowns upon the nail.’—‘And, pray, what office is this

that thou halt quitted?’ said Ricote. ‘I have quitted the government of

an island,’ replied Sancho: ‘aye, and such a one as, in good faith, you

will not find its fellow in three bow-shots.’—‘And whereabouts is this

island?’ resumed the other. ‘Whereabouts!’ cried Panza: ‘about two

leagues from hence, and it is called the Island Barataria.’—‘Spare me,

spare me, good Sancho,’ said Ricote: ‘islands are far at sea; there are

none upon the continent.’—‘How, none!’ replied Sancho: ‘I tell thee,

friend Ricote, I left it but this mornings and yesterday governed in it

at my pleasure, like a perfect sagittary; but, for all that, I resigned

my place; for I found the office of governors is very troublesome and

dangerous.’—‘And what hast thou got by this government?’ said Ricote. ‘I

have got sense enough to know that I am fit for governing nothing but a

flock of sheep,’ answered Sancho: ‘and that the wealth acquired in such

governments is got at the expence of ease, sleep, and even sustenance;

for in islands the governors must eat very little, especially if they

have physicians to watch over their health.’—‘I really do not understand

thee, Sancho,’ said Ricote: ‘but every thing thou hast spoke, to me

seems mere madness; for who would give thee islands to govern, when

there is plenty of men in the world so much more capable of governing

than thou? Keep thy own counsel, Sancho, and recollect thy judgment, and

consider whether or not thou wilt accompany me, as I proposed, to assist

me in conveying the treasure I have hid; for the sum is really so great,

it may well be called a treasure, and I will give thee wherewithal to

live, as I have already promised.’—‘I have already told thee, Ricote,

that I will not,’ answered Sancho: ‘be satisfied that by me thou shalt

not be discovered; continue thy journey in happy hour, and let me

proceed in mine: for, well I know, What’s honestly earned may be easily

lost, but ill-got wealth is ever at the owner’s cost.’—‘Well, I will not

farther importune thee,’ said Ricote: ‘but, pray tell me, Sancho, wast

thou in our village when my wife and daughter departed with my

brother-in-law?’—‘Yes, I was,’ replied Sancho: ‘and I can tell thee, thy

daughter appeared so beautiful, that all the people in town went forth

to see her, and every body owned she was the fairest creature under the

sun; she went along weeping, and embraced all her friends and

acquaintance; and begged of all that came to see her, that they would

recommend her to God, and our Lady his blessed mother. Indeed, her

behaviour was so moving, that I myself, who am no blubberer, could not

help shedding tears; and, in good sooth, many persons were very desirous

of going after, and carrying her off, in order to conceal her; but they

were diverted from that design, by the fear of acting contrary to the

king’s proclamation. He that shewed himself the most passionately fond

of her, was Don Pedro Gregorio, the young rich heir, who, thou knowest,

was said to be in love with her. After her departure, he never more

appeared in our town, and every body believed he went away in order to

carry her off; but hitherto we have had no account of his motions.’—‘I

had always a suspicion,’ said Ricote, ‘that the young gentleman was

enamoured of my daughter; but, as I confided in the virtue of Ricota,

his passion gave me no disturbance; for thou must have heard, Sancho,

that the Moorish women seldom or never engage in amorous intercourse

with old Christians; and my daughter, whose inclination, I believe,

leaned more to Christianity than to love, paid no attention to the

importunities of that young heir.’—‘God grant it may be so,’ replied

Sancho; ‘for it would have been to the prejudice of both: and now let me

depart in peace, friend Ricote; for, this night, I intend to be with my

master Don Quixote.’—‘God be thy guide, brother Sancho,’ said the Moor:

‘I see my companions are stirring, and it is time for us to make the

best of our way.’

Then the two having embraced one another, Sancho mounted Dapple, Ricote

supported himself with his staff, and in this manner they parted

different ways.

CHAP. III.

OF CERTAIN ACCIDENTS THAT BEFEL SANCHO UPON THE ROAD—AND OTHER

CIRCUMSTANCES, WHICH TO KNOW YOU NEED ONLY LOOK FORWARD.

Sancho was so long detained by Ricote, that he could not reach the

duke’s castle that day, though he was within half a league of it, and

there overtaken by the night, which was dark and close; but it being the

summer season, he was not much concerned, and retired a little from the

high-road with intention to wait patiently for morning. It was, however,

the pleasure of his niggard and unhappy fortune, that in seeking a place

proper for his accommodation, he and Dapple tumbled into a deep and very

dark pit, among a number of old buildings. In falling, he recommended

himself to God, with all his heart, in the firm persuasion that he would

not stop until he reached the bottom of the profound abyss: but this

apprehension was happily disappointed; for Dapple having descended

little more than three fathoms, touched the ground, and his rider found

himself on his beast’s back, without having sustained the least hurt of

damage. He felt his body all over, and held in his breath to know

whether he was sound or perforated in any part; and when he found

himself safe, whole, and in Catholick health, he did not fail to thank

our Lord God for his protection, as he actually thought he had been

shattered into a thousand pieces. He likewise felt about the sides of

the pit, to know if there was any possibility of being extricated

without assistance; but he found them all smooth and perpendicular,

without any projection or cranny of which he could take the least

advantage; a circumstance that greatly increased his chagrin, especially

when he heard Dapple complain in a most pathetick and lamentable tone;

and, indeed, it was no great wonder, nor did he lament out of

wantonness, for in truth he was in a very sorry condition.

It was then that Sancho Panza exclaimed—‘Alack, and a-well-a-day! how

unexpected are the accidents which, at every turn, befal those who live

in this miserable world! Who could foretel, that he who yesterday saw

himself enthroned as governor of an island, giving orders to his

servants and vassals, should to-day be buried in a dungeon, without a

soul to remedy his misfortune, or a servant or vassal to hasten to his

relief? Here I and my poor beast must perish by hunger, if we do not

give up the ghost before that period; he, in consequence of being

battered and bruised, and I, from pure sorrow and vexation. At least, I

shall not be so lucky as my master Don Quixote de La Mancha; who, when

he descended, and sunk into the cave of that same enchanted Montesinos,

was better entertained than he could have been in his own house; so that

the cloth seemed to be laid, and the bed fairly made. There he enjoyed

beautiful and agreeable visions; but here, I believe, I shall see

nothing but toads and serpents. Unfortunate wretch that I am! to what a

pass am I brought by my fantasies and folly! From this cavern (when

Heaven shall be pleased to discover them) my bones, together with those

of my honest friend Dapple, will be taken up smooth, and white, and bare

as an atomy; and, from this particular, perhaps, it will be discovered

who we are, especially by those who know that Sancho Panza never parted

from his ass, nor his ass from Sancho Panza. I say again, miserable

creatures that we are! why would not our niggard fortune allow us to die

at home, in our own country, in the midst of our friends? where, though

our misfortune would admit of no remedy, we should not have wanted

relations to grieve at our fate, and close our eyes in the last hour of

our trial!

‘O my dear companion, and my friend! how ill have I rewarded thy good

services! Forgive me, honest Dapple, and entreat fortune, in the best

terms thou canst use, to deliver us from this vexatious misery in which

we are equally involved; in which case, I promise to put a crown of

laurel upon thy head, so as that thou shalt look like a poet-laureat;

and, withal, to give thee double allowance of provender.’ In this manner

did Sancho Panza pour forth his lamentation, to which the poor beast

listened without answering one word; such was the danger and distress to

which the poor animal found himself exposed.

At length, after they had passed the whole night in miserable complaints

and lamentations, day broke; and by the light and splendor of the

morning, Sancho perceived, that of all impossibilities it was the most

impossible to free himself from that pit without assistance; so that he

began to lament afresh, and roar aloud, in hope that somebody might hear

his voice: but all his cries were uttered to the desart; for in all that

neighbourhood there was not a soul by whom he could be heard; and

therefore he gave himself up for lost. As Dapple lay with his mouth

uppermost, Sancho Panza exerted himself in such a manner as to raise his

friend upon his legs, which, by the bye, could scarce bear his weight;

and, taking a piece of bread out of his wallet, which had likewise

suffered the same unfortunate fall, gave it to the poor beast, who

received it very thankfully; and Sancho told him, as if he understood

his words—‘All ills are good, when attended with food.’ About this time

he discovered a hole at one side of the dungeon, large enough to give

passage to a man, provided he could bend his body, and creep through; to

this he hastened, and squeezing himself into it, perceived, within, a

large extensive space, the particulars of which he could distinguish;

for, through what may be termed the roof, descended a small stream of

light that illuminated the whole place, which, as he observed, dilated

and extended itself through another spacious concavity.

Sancho, having made these remarks, returned to the place where his

companion stood, and with a stone began to clear away the rubbish from

the hole, which he in a little time enlarged to such a degree that

Dapple passed with ease. Then taking the halter in his hand, he led him

forwards through that cavern, in hope of finding an exit at the other

end: and sometimes he proceeded darkling, and sometimes without one ray

of light; but always in fear and trepidation. ‘God Almighty protect me!’

said he within himself; ‘this, that is such a dismal expedition to me,

would be an excellent adventure to my master, who would look upon these

depths and dungeons as so many flower-gardens, and palaces of

Galiana[194]; and expect to pass from this distress and obscurity, into

some blooming meadow adorned with the pride of spring: whereas I, a

miserable wretch! equally impudent and poor-spirited, dread, at every

step, that another dungeon, still more deep, will suddenly open under my

feet, and swallow me up at once. We may bear, without a groan, the

misfortune that comes alone.’ In venting these ejaculations, he fancied

he had proceeded about half a league, when he perceived a kind of

confused light, like that of day, glimmering through a passage that

seemed to be the road from this to the other world.

Here Cid Hamet Benengeli, leaving the squire, returns to Don Quixote,

waiting with joy and transport for the combat in which he was to engage

with the person who had robbed the daughter of Donna Rodriguez of her

precious virtue; for he made no doubt of redressing the grievance and

disgrace which the delinquent had feloniously entailed upon the innocent

damsel.

Chancing one morning to go out, in order to improve and inure himself to

the exercise of arms, which he meant to practise in that combat to which

in a few days he must be exposed, he, in wheeling about, or giving the

charge with Rozinante, rode so near the mouth of a cavern, that if he

had not vigorously pulled in the reins, he must have plunged into it,

without all possibility of escape. He kept his seat, however, and at

length made his retreat good; then, re-approaching the hole, he, without

alighting, surveyed the depth of the cave; and, while he was thus

employed, heard loud cries issuing from below; in consequence of which,

listening with great attention, he could distinguish articulate sounds,

and distinctly understand the following exclamation: ‘So ho! above

there; is there any Christian within hearing? or any charitable

gentleman whose bowels yearn at the distress of a sinner buried alive,

and an unfortunate misgoverned governor?’

Don Quixote thought he recognized the voice of Sancho Panza, at hearing

which he was confounded and astonished; and raising his own voice as

high as he could strain—‘Who is that below,’ cried he, ‘complaining so

grievously?’—‘Who should be here, or who complain, but the bewildered

Sancho Panza, for his sins and misfortune, appointed governor of the

Island Barataria, who was formerly squire to the renowned knight Don

Quixote de La Mancha?’ When the knight heard this declaration, his

surprize redoubled, his amazement increased, and he was struck with the

notion that Sancho Panza was dead, and his soul doing penance in that

place. Swayed by this conjecture, he exclaimed—‘I conjure thee, by all

that is sacred, as a Catholick Christian, to tell me who thou art? If a

soul in punishment, let me know what I can do in thy behalf; for, as it

is my profession to savour and assist the needy of this world, so

likewise am I ready to succour and relieve the miserable objects of the

other world, who cannot relieve themselves.’—‘At that rate, and by your

worship’s discourse,’ answered the voice, ‘you should be my master Don

Quixote de la Mancha; and, indeed, by the tone of your voice, I know you

can be no other.’—‘Don Quixote I am,’ replied the knight; ‘he who

professed to aid and assist the living, as well as the dead, in their

distresses. Tell me, therefore, who thou art, by whom I am thus held in

astonishment; for if thou art my squire Sancho Panza, and hast quitted

this life, seeing the devils have not got possession of thy soul, but

through the mercy of God thou art now in purgatory, our holy mother, the

Roman Catholick Church, has prayers sufficient to deliver thee from thy

present pain; and I, for my part, will solicit them in thy behalf, as

far as my whole fortune will extend; I say, therefore, make haste, and

declare thy name and situation.’—‘I vow to God!’ answered the voice,

‘and swear by the birth of whom your worship pleases, Signior Don

Quixote de La Mancha, that I am your identical squire, Sancho Panza, and

was never yet dead in the whole course of my life, but I quitted my

government for causes and considerations which I must have more leisure

to explain. Last night I fell into this dungeon, together with Dapple,

who will not suffer me to tell an untruth; by the same token he stands

now at my back.’ One would have imagined the beast understood what his

master said; for that moment he began to bray so strenuously, that the

whole cave echoed with the sound. ‘A most unexceptionable evidence!’

cried Don Quixote; ‘I know that note as well as if I had given it birth;

and, besides, I recognize thy voice, my good Sancho. Wait a little, I

will ride to the duke’s castle, which is hard by, and bring people to

extricate thee from that dungeon into which thou hast been plunged for

thy sins and transgressions.’—‘I entreat your worship to go, for the

love of God! and return speedily; for I cannot bear to be buried here

alive; and, moreover, I am ready to die with fear!’

The knight leaving him accordingly, repaired to the castle, where he

recounted to the duke and duchess the accident which had befallen poor

Sancho, at which they were not a little surprized, though they at once

comprehended how he must have fallen by the correspondence of that

cavern which had been there time out of mind; but they could not

conceive how he should have quitted the government without giving them

notice of his coming. Finally, ropes and cables were provided, together

with a good number of people; and Dapple and Sancho Panza, though not

without a great deal of trouble, were hoisted up from dungeons and

darkness to the chearful light of day. ‘In this manner,’ said a student,

who chanced to be among the spectators, ‘should all bad governors be

dragged from their governments like that poor sinner from the profound

abyss, half dead with hunger, pale with fear, and, as I believe, without

a penny in his pocket.’ Sancho, hearing this observation, replied—‘Eight

or ten days are now elapsed, brother growler, since I assumed the reins

of government in that island, which was committed to my charge; and, in

all that time, I never once had my belly-full, even of dry bread. I have

been persecuted by physicians; my bones have been crushed by the enemy;

but I never had a bribe in view, nor did I ever receive my due. And this

being the case, as it certainly is, methinks, I have not deserved to be

dragged out in this manner; but Man projects in vain, for God doth still

ordain; Heaven knows how meet it is to grant, what every one pretends to

want; Every season has its reason; Let no man presume to think, of this

cup I will not drink; for, Where the stitch we hoped to find, not even a

hook is left behind. God knows my meaning, and that’s enough; I shall

say no more, though perhaps I could speak more plainly.’—‘Be not angry,

Sancho,’ replied Don Quixote, ‘and give thyself no concern about what

thou mayest hear, otherwise there will be no end of thy vexation;

console thyself with a good conscience, and let them say what they will;

for it is as impracticable to tye up the tongue of malice, as to erect

barricadoes in the open fields. If a governor resigns his office in good

circumstances, people say he must have been an oppressor and a knave;

and if poverty attends him in his retreat, they set him down as an idiot

and fool.’—‘For this time,’ answered Sancho, ‘I am certain they will

think me more fool than knave.’

Thus discoursing, and surrounded by a number of boys, and other

spectators, they arrived at the castle, where the duke and duchess

waited to receive them in a gallery; but Sancho would not go up stairs,

until he saw Dapple properly accommodated in the stable; for, he

observed, the poor creature had passed the preceding night in very

indifferent lodging. Then he went to pay his respects to his noble

patrons; before whom, falling on his knees—‘According to the good

pleasure of your graces,’ said he, ‘and without any merit on my side, I

went to govern your Island Barataria, which Naked I entered, and naked I

remain; and if I lose nothing, as little I gain. Whether I have governed

righteously or amiss, there are witnesses, who will declare, and say,

whatsoever they think proper, I have explained doubts, and decided

causes, though all the time half dead with hunger, because my fasting

seemed good under Doctor Pedro Positive, native of Snatchaway, the

island and governor’s physician. We were assaulted in the night by the

enemy, who put us all in great jeopardy and consternation; and the

inhabitants of the island said they were delivered, and proved

victorious, by the valour of my invincible arm; but, so may God deal

with them as they speak truth. In a word, I have, during my

administration, considered the cares and obligations that attend the

exercise of power, and found them, by my reckoning, too weighty for my

shoulders; they are neither fit burthens for my back, nor arrows for my

quiver; and, therefore, that the government might not discard me, I have

thought proper to discard the government; and yesterday I left the

island as I found it, with the same streets, houses, and roofs, which

belonged to it when I took possession. I have borrowed of no man, nor

consulted my own private gain or advantage; and, although my intention

was to make some wholesome regulations, I did not put my design in

execution, because I was afraid they would not be observed; and a law

neglected, is the same thing as one that never was enacted.

‘I quitted the island, as I have said, without any other company than

that of Dapple; I fell into a dungeon, through which I groped my way,

until this morning, by the light of the sun, I perceived a passage out

of it, though not so easy but that if Heaven had not sent my master Don

Quixote to my assistance, there I should have remained to the day of

judgment. Here, then, my Lord Duke and Lady Duchess, is your governor

Sancho Panza, who, during the ten days of his administration, has gained

nothing but so much knowledge, that he would not give a farthing to be

governor, not only of an island, but even of the whole world; and in

this opinion, kissing your graces’ feet, and imitating the game of boys,

who cry, “Leap and away,” I take a leap from the government into the

service of my master Don Quixote; for, in short, though with him I eat

my bread in terror and alarm, I at least fill my belly; and so that is

full, I care not whether it be with carrots or partridge.’

Here Sancho concluded his harangue, during which the knight was in

continual apprehension that he would utter a thousand absurdities; but

when he heard it finished with so few, he thanked Heaven in his heart;

while the duke embraced Sancho, and told him he was grieved to the soul

that he had so soon left his government; but he would find means to

invest him with another office in his estate, which would be attended

with less care and more advantage. He was likewise consoled by the

duchess, who gave particular orders about his entertainment, as he

seemed to be sorely bruised, and in a lamentable condition.

Footnote 194:

This was a Moorish princess, for whom her father built a stately

palace near the Tagus, the ruins of which remain to this day.

CHAP. IV.

OF THE DREADFUL AND UNSEEN BATTLE,

FOUGHT BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA,

AND THE LACQUEY TOSILOS,

IN BEHALF OF THE DAUGHTER OF RODRIGUEZ THE DUENNA.

The duke and duchess did not repent of the joke they had executed upon

Sancho Panza, with respect to his government, especially as the steward

arrived the same day, and gave a circumstantial detail of all the words

and actions which he had said and performed during the term of his

administration. In fine, he magnified the assault of the island, and the

terror of Sancho, and described the manner of his departure, from the

account of which they received no small pleasure and satisfaction.

The history afterwards relates, that the day appointed for the combat

arrived; and the duke having again and again instructed his lacquey

Tosilos how to manage Don Quixote, so as to conquer without slaying, or

even wounding the knight, ordered the lances to be divested of their

iron heads, observing to Don Quixote that Christianity, upon which he

valued himself, would not allow him to let the combat be fought with any

risk or danger of his life; and that he hoped the knight would be

satisfied with his granting a field for the lists in his territories, an

indulgence contrary to the decree of the holy council, which prohibits

all such challenges: he therefore desired that the battle might not be

fought to the last extremity. Don Quixote said his excellency might

order the particulars of that affair according to his own pleasure, and

that he would punctually comply with every circumstance of the

disposition.

The dreadful day then being arrived, and the duke having caused a

spacious scaffold to be erected before the courtyard of the castle, for

the accommodation of the judges of the field, and the mother and

daughter, who were plaintiffs in the cause; an infinite number of people

assembled from all the neighbouring towns and villages, to see the

novelty of this battle; for such a combat had never been seen nor heard

of in that country, by either the living or the dead. The first that

entered the lists was the master of the ceremonies, in order to examine

the ground; and he accordingly surveyed the whole field, to see that

there was no deceit, or any thing concealed that might occasion

stumbling or falling; then came the duennas and took their seats, veiled

down to the eyes, and even to the bosom, with demonstrations of

excessive grief. They being seated, Don Quixote presented himself in the

lists; and in a little time appeared the great lacquey Tosilos upon a

mighty steed that shook the very ground, accompanied with a number of

trumpets, his vizor being down, and his whole body stiffened with strong

and shining armour; his horse seemed to be of the Friezland breed, broad

built, and of a flea-bitten colour, with a stone of wool hanging to

every foot. Thus approached the valiant combatant, well instructed by

the duke how to engage the valorous Don Quixote de La Mancha, and

particularly cautioned against taking away the life of his knightly

opponent; for he was warned to avoid the first encounter as he would

shun his own death, which must have been certain had they met full shock

in the midst of their career. This champion, crossing the field, and

riding up to the place where the duennas were seated, began very

earnestly to contemplate the person who claimed him as her husband[195];

while the master of the field, calling to Don Quixote, who had likewise

entered the lists, and kept close to Tosilos, asked the duennas if they

consented to depend upon Don Quixote de La Mancha for the redress of

their grievances; they replied in the affirmative, declaring, at the

same time, that whatever he should do in the affair they would hold as

well done, firm, and sufficient[196]. By this time, the duke and duchess

had placed themselves in a gallery that overlooked the barriers, which

were crouded with an infinite number of people, who came to see the

dreadful and never-beheld encounter; but, before they engaged, it was

stipulated, that if Don Quixote should overcome his antagonist, he, the

said antagonist, should marry the daughter of Donna Rodriguez; but

should victory declare for the defendant, he should be released from the

promise they pretended he had made, without giving any other

satisfaction.

The master of the ceremonies having divided the sun, and stationed each

combatant in his proper post, the drums began to thunder, the sound of

trumpets filled the air, the earth trembled beneath their feet, and the

hearts of the gazing multitude throbbed with suspense and expectation,

some hoping, and others fearing, the good or bad success of the battle.

Finally, Don Quixote, recommending himself with all his heart to our

Lord God, and to the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, waited with impatience

for the precise signal of engaging; while our lacquey, engrossed by far

other sentiments, thought of nothing but what we will now explain. While

he stood gazing at his female enemy, she appeared in his eyes the most

beautiful creature he had ever seen in the whole course of his life, and

the little blind urchin, vulgarly known by the name of Cupid, was

unwilling to lose this opportunity to triumph over a lacqueyan soul, and

register this subject in the list of his atchievements; he, therefore,

approached him fairly and softly, and unperceived let fly an arrow two

yards long, which, entering his left side, transfixed his heart: nor was

it difficult to perform this exploit; for Love is invincible, and makes

his entrance and exit wheresoever he chuses to pass, without being

called to account by any person upon earth—I say, when they gave the

signal for battle, our lacquey’s soul was transported by the beauty of

her, to whom, by this time, he had surrendered his liberty; and

therefore, he was not so much affected by the sound of the trumpet as

his antagonist Don Quixote, whose ears it no sooner saluted, than he

sprang forwards to assault his adversary with all the mettle that

Rozinante could exert; and his good squire Sancho seeing him begin his

career, exclaimed with an audible voice, ‘God be thy guide, thou cream

and flower of knights-errant: God grant thee the victory, seeing thy

cause is the best!’

Although Tosilos saw Don Quixote advancing against him, he did not budge

one step from his station, but called aloud to the field-master, to

whom, when he went up to see what he wanted, he thus addressed himself:

‘Tell me, Signior, is not this combat appointed to determine whether I

shall or shall not marry that lady?’ To this question the other having

replied in the affirmative, ‘Well, then,’ resumed the lacquey, ‘I have a

tender conscience, that would be grievously burdened should I proceed in

this quarrel; and, therefore, I own myself vanquished, and will

forthwith take the lady to wife.’ The field-master was surprized at this

declaration of Tosilos; and, being in the secret of the plan, knew not

what answer to make; while Don Quixote, perceiving his enemy did not

come on to the assault, checked Rozinante in the middle of his career.

The duke, being ignorant of the cause that retarded the battle, was by

the field-master, informed of what Tosilos had said, at which he was

extremely surprized and incensed; whereas, Tosilos, in the mean time,

rode up towards the place where Donna Rodriguez was seated, and

pronounced with a loud voice, ‘Madam, as I am willing to marry your

daughter, there is no occasion to seek that by disputes and contention

which I may obtain peaceably without the danger of death.’ The valiant

Don Quixote hearing this address, ‘Since that is the case,’ said he, ‘I

am released and acquitted of my promise; let them marry a-God’s name,

and as our Lord bestows the bride, may St. Peter bless the nuptials!’

The duke descending into the court-yard of the castle, and advancing to

Tosilos, ‘Knight,’ said he, ‘is it true, that you own yourself

vanquished, and that, instigated by your timorous conscience, you

consent to marry this damsel?’ When he answered, ‘Yes, my lord.’—‘He is

very much in the right,’ cried Sancho: ‘Give always to the cat what was

kept for the rat; and, Let it still be thy view all mischief to eschew.’

As for Tosilos, he began to unlace his helmet, and earnestly begged that

somebody would come to his assistance; for his breath was almost gone,

and he could not bear to be confined so long in such a narrow lodging.

People accordingly ran to his relief; and his head being uncased, Donna

Rodriguez discovered the individual countenance of our lacquey, which

the daughter no sooner beheld than she cried aloud, ‘A cheat! a cheat!

My Lord Duke has palmed his lacquey upon us, in lieu of my lawful

husband: I demand justice of God and the king, for this malicious, not

to call it knavish contrivance.’

‘Ladies,’ said Don Quixote, ‘give yourselves no concern; there is

neither malice nor knavery in the case; or if there is, it cannot be

occasioned by the duke, but by those wicked inchanters who persecute me

without ceasing: envious of the glory I should have acquired in this

atchievement, they have metamorphosed your husband’s face into the

aspect of this man, who, you say, is the duke’s lacquey. Take my advice,

therefore, maugre the malice of mine enemies, bestow your hand upon him;

for, without all doubt, he is the very person whom you desire to obtain

as an husband.’

The duke, overhearing this admonition, had well-nigh vented all his

indignation in laughter, saying, ‘The adventures that happen to Signior

Don Quixote are so extraordinary, that I am apt to believe this is not

really my lacquey; but, let us make use of this expedient and stratagem:

we will, if it be agreeable, delay the marriage a fortnight, and confine

this person, of whom we are doubtful, and in that time perhaps he will

retrieve his former figure; for surely the rancour of those wicked

inchanters, who hate Don Quixote, cannot last so long; especially as

such delusions and transformations avail them so little.’—‘O my lord!’

cried Sancho, ‘those banditti have been long accustomed to chop, change,

and transmography every thing that belongs to my master; some time ago

he vanquished an errant, called the Knight of the Mirrours, and in a

twinkling they transformed him into the figure of the batchelor Sampson

Carrasco, a townsman and great friend of ours; as for my Lady Dulcinea

del Toboso, they have changed her into a homely country wench; and,

therefore, I take it for granted that this man will die and live a

lacquey all the days of his life.’

Here the daughter of Donna Rodriguez interposing, ‘Be he who he will,’

said she, ‘I am obliged to him for asking me in marriage: and I would

rather be the lawful wife of a lacquey, than the deluded mistress of a

gentleman; although he who deluded me has no pretensions to that title.’

In fine, all these incidents and explanations ended in the resolution to

confine Tosilos, until they should see the issue of his transformation;

while, with unusual acclamation, the victory was adjudged to Don

Quixote; though the greatest part of the spectators seemed melancholy

and disappointed, because they had not seen two such hopeful combatants

hew one another in pieces: in the same manner as the boys are out of

humour, when the execution is prevented by the malefactor’s being

pardoned, either by the party or the king.

The crowd dispersed, the duke and Don Quixote returned to the castle,

Tosilos was sent to prison; Donna Rodriguez and her daughter rejoiced

exceedingly, when they saw, that one way or another, this affair would

end in marriage, and the lover consoled himself with the same prospect.

Footnote 195:

A critick inclined to enumerate the inadvertencies of Cervantes, might

observe that Sancho pulled a piece of bread out of his wallet and gave

it to Dapple, after he had given the contents of the said wallet to

the pilgrims; that he tells the duke and duchess he had governed ten

days, whereas he had continued but seven days in office; and, lastly,

that Tosilos contemplated the beauties of the damsel, though we are

previously told that she was veiled down to the bosom.

Footnote 196:

In the romance of Gerard de Nevers we read, that a certain young lady,

perceiving the eagerness with which that knight undertook her defence,

pulled the glove from her left-hand, and presented it to him, saying,

‘Sir Knight, my body, life, lands, and honour, I commit to the

protection of God and you, to whom I pray he may grant grace to obtain

the victory, and deliver us from the danger in which we are now

involved.’

CHAP. V.

GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF THE MANNER IN WHICH DON QUIXOTE

TOOK LEAVE OF THE DUKE;

AND OF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN HIM

AND THE GAY AND WITTY ALTISIDORA, ONE OF THE DUCHESS’S DAMSELS.

By this time Don Quixote thought he would do well to quit that idle way

of life which he led in the castle; for he imagined himself much to

blame in living thus buried and inactive among those infinite dainties

and entertainments with which he, as a knight-errant, was indulged by

that noble pair; and he concluded that he would be obliged to give a

severe account to Heaven of this idleness and sequestration. He,

therefore, one day, begged leave of the duke and duchess to depart; and

they granted his request, with marks of being extremely grieved at his

intention. The duchess delivered to Sancho Panza his wife’s letter, and

the good squire wept bitterly when he understood the contents; saying,

‘Who could have thought such mighty hopes as were engendered in the

breast of my wife Teresa Panza, by the news of my government, would

vanish in my returning again to the woeful adventures of my master Don

Quixote de La Mancha? Nevertheless, I am pleased to find that my Teresa

behaved like herself, in sending the acorns to the duchess; for had she

failed in that particular, I should have been sorely vexed, and she

would have shewn herself ungrateful: what comforts my poor heart is,

that they cannot call this present a bribe; for I was actually in

possession of the government before the acorns were sent: and it is but

reasonable, that folks who receive any sort of benefit should shew their

gratitude, even though in trifles. In effect, naked I took possession of

the government, and naked I resigned my office; therefore, I may say

with a safe conscience, which is no small boast, I naked was born, and

naked remain; and if I lose nothing, as little I gain.’

This conference Sancho held with his own bosom on the day of their

departure: as for Don Quixote, having taken leave of their graces

over-night, he in the morning presented himself armed in the court-yard

of the castle, where he furnished a spectacle to all the people of the

family, not even excepting the duke and duchess, who viewed him from the

gallery. Sancho was mounted upon Dapple, extremely well pleased with the

contents of his bags, wallet, or store; for the duke’s steward, who

acted the part of the Countess Trifaldi, had given him a small purse of

two hundred crowns, to answer the emergencies of the road: but of this

supply Don Quixote was ignorant. While every individual, as we have

said, stood gazing at the knight, all of a sudden, from among the other

duennas and damsels of the duchess, the gay and witty Altisidora,

raising her voice, pronounced what follows, in a lamentable tone.

‘Ah! hear my plaint, unlucky knight,

Pull in thy rein, and do me right;

And pr’ythee spare, at my request,

The flanks of that poor batter’d beast.

Consider she whose heart’s at stake,

False man! is not a scaly snake;

But a young lambkin, meek and true,

Just wean’d from teat of mother ewe.

Say, monster, why undo a maid

More beautiful than ever stray’d

With Cynthia, huntress of the wood,

Or Venus, native of the flood?

But Æneas-like thou mean’st to fly,

The death of Barrabas may Quixote die!

‘Thou, robber! in thy claws hast got

The heart and bowels, and what not,

Of a weak virgin, Heav’n befriend her!

Mild, humble, timorous, and tender.

Three linen night-caps hast thou stole,

And silken garters strong and whole,

That to these legs did appertain;

These legs, as marble smooth and clean.

Thou carriest off two thousand sighs,

Which, kindled by thy beaming eyes,

Would in a twinkling quite destroy

Two thousand cities great as Troy.

But if Æneas-like thou mean’st to fly,

The death of Barrabas may Quixote die!

‘May Sancho’s buttocks, and his heart,

Ne’er feel the ignominious smart

Prescrib’d, when he is pleas’d and ready

To disinchant thy fav’rite lady!

Since thine’s the offence, and thine the blame,

Endure the punishment and shame

Which in my country, once a year,

The righteous for the wicked bear.

Be thy adventures (small and great)

Inglorious and unfortunate;

Like dreams may all thy pleasures fade,

Thy constancy oblivion shade;

And if Æneas-like thou mean’st to fly,

The death of Barrabas may Quixote die!

‘May’st thou be deem’d a perjur’d devil,

E’en from Marchena unto Seville;

From Loja to Granada hated,

From London Tow’r to England baited.

At drafts should’st thou attempt to play,

Or waste at ombre all the day,

May no crown’d monarch or spadille

Attend the efforts of thy skill;

When angry corn disturbs thy toe,

May blood at ev’ry paring flow;

And of each tooth the barbers draw,

The stump still fester in thy jaw:

Nay, since Æneaslike thou mean’st to fly,

The death of Barrabas may Quixote die!’

While the afflicted Altisidora complained in these strains, Don Quixote

surveyed her attentively; and, without answering a word to her

lamentation, turned to Sancho, saying, ‘By the age of thine ancestors,

my dear Sancho, I conjure thee to tell me the truth: say, hast thou

actually got the three caps and the garters, which this enamoured damsel

mentions?’ To this question the squire replied, ‘The three caps I have;

but as to the garters, I know nothing of the matter.’

The duchess was surprized at the freedom of Altisidora’s behaviour; for,

although she knew her to be forward, merry, and frank, she did not think

the girl possessed of assurance enough to attempt a scheme of this

nature; and her admiration was the greater, as she had not been

previously apprized of the intended joke. The duke, however, in order to

reinforce the jest, addressed himself to Don Quixote in these words: ‘It

does not look well, Sir Knight, that you who have met with such

honourable reception and treatment in this my castle, should presume to

carry off by stealth three knight-caps, at least, if not a pair of

garters likewise, belonging to my damsel: these are marks of a bad

heart, and but ill agree with your reputation. Restore the garters to

the right owner; otherwise, I challenge you to mortal combat, without

any apprehension that knavish inchanters will transform or change my

face, as they have practised upon my lacquey Tosilos, your last

antagonist.’

‘God forbid,’ replied Don Quixote, ‘that I should unsheath my sword

against your illustrious person, of whom I received such favours! The

three night-caps shall be restored; for Sancho owns they are in his

custody: but it is impossible to make restitution of the garters, as

neither he nor I did ever receive them; and I dare say your damsel will

find them, if she will take the trouble to rummage her own drawers. I,

my lord duke, was never a thief, and I hope never shall in the whole

course of my lite, provided God will not withdraw from me his guiding

hand. The damsel, according to her own declaration, talks like an

enamoured person; but surely I am not to blame for her impertinence:

and, therefore, I have no reason to ask pardon either of her or your

excellency, whom I entreat to look upon me with more favourable

sentiments, and beseech anew to consent that I may prosecute my

journey.’—‘God grant your departure may be so happy,’ said the duchess,

‘that we may always hear good news of Don Quixote’s exploits. Go, then,

a God’s name; for the longer you stay, your presence blows up the fire

the more fiercely in the bosoms of the damsels who behold you: as for

mine, I will chastise her in such a manner, that from henceforward she

shall never transgress either in word or deed.’—‘One word more, however,

I beg thou wilt hear me speak, O valiant Don Quixote!’ said Altisidora.

‘I crave pardon for having taxed you with the garters; for, as I shall

answer to Heaven and my own conscience, they are now upon my legs; and I

have been guilty of a mistake, like the man who went in search of his

ass, while he was mounted on his back.’—‘Did not I tell you so?’ cried

the squire: ‘I should be a rare fellow indeed, to receive and conceal

stolen goods; had I been that way inclined, I might have had opportunity

enough in my government.’

Don Quixote bowing his head, made a profound reverence to the duke and

duchess, and all the spectators; then turning Rozinante, and being

followed by Sancho upon Dapple, he set out from the castle, directing

his course to Saragossa.

CHAP. VI.

SHEWING HOW ADVENTURES THRONGED UPON DON QUIXOTE

SO THICK AS TO ENTANGLE ONE ANOTHER.

When Don Quixote found himself in the open field, free and

disembarrassed from the complaints of Altisidora, he seemed to be placed

in the very center of his own wish, and to enjoy a renovation of

spirits, in order to prosecute anew the aim of his chivalry. Turning,

therefore, to his squire, ‘Sancho,’ said he, ‘liberty is one of the most

precious gifts which Heaven hath bestowed on man, exceeding all the

treasures which earth encloses, or which ocean hides; and for this

blessing, as well as for honour, we may and ought to venture life

itself: on the other hand, captivity and restraint are the greatest

evils that human nature can endure. I make this observation, Sancho,

because thou hast seen the delicacies and the plenty with which we were

entertained in that castle: yet, in the midst of those savoury banquets,

and ice-cooled potations, I thought myself confined within the very

straits of famine, because I did not enjoy the treat with that liberty

which I should have felt, had it been my own; for obligations incurred

by benefits and favours received, are fetters which hamper the freeborn

soul. Happy is he to whom Heaven hath sent a morsel of bread, for which

he is obliged to none but Heaven itself.’

‘But notwithstanding all that your worship hath said,’ replied Sancho,

‘we, for our parts, ought not to be ungrateful, considering the two

hundred crowns of gold which the duke’s steward gave me in a purse, and

which, as a plaister and a cordial, I keep next my heart, in case of

emergency; for we shall not always find such castles where we can be

entertained; on the contrary, we may sometimes stumble upon sorry inns,

where we shall be soundly cudgelled.’

With this and other such discourse, the two errants, knight and squire,

amused themselves while they proceeded on their journey. Having

travelled a little more than a league, they perceived upon a green spot

of ground, about a dozen countrymen at dinner, with their cloaks spread

under them; and hard by, certain white sheets at some distance from one

another, that seemed to cover something, above which they were raised up

and stretched with great care and caution. Don Quixote approaching the

men, first of all saluted them courteously, and then asked what it was

they covered so carefully with these pieces of linen. ‘Signior,’ replied

one of the countrymen, ‘under these sheets are carved images for an

altar-piece to be set up in our town; we cover them in this manner, that

they may not be sullied, and carry them upon our shoulders that they may

not be broken.’—‘If you please,’ replied the knight, ‘I should be glad

to see them; they must certainly be good images, which you so carefully

convey.’—‘Good!’ cried the other, ‘aye, that the price of them will

declare: I can assure you there is not one of them that does not cost

above fifty ducats; and that your worship may be convinced of the truth

of what I say, stay a moment, and you shall see it with your own eyes.’

So saying, he left his dinner, and rising up, uncovered the first piece,

which represented St. George on horseback, with his lance thrust into

the throat of a serpent coiled at his feet, exhibiting all the

fierceness with which that animal is usually painted; and the whole

groupe looked, as the saying is, like a flame of gold.

Don Quixote, immediately recognizing the subject, ‘This knight,’ said

he, ‘was one of the best errants that ever signalized themselves in

divine warfare; his name was St. George, and he was, moreover, a

protector of damsels. Let us see the next;’ which, when displayed,

appeared to be the image of St. Martin on horseback, dividing his cloak

with the beggar. Don Quixote no sooner beheld it, than he said to

Sancho, ‘This knight was also one of the Christian adventurers, and, I

believe, more liberal than valiant, as thou mayest perceive by this

circumstance of dividing his cloak, and giving one half to the beggar;

and, doubtless, this incident must have happened in the winter season,

otherwise the saint was so charitable he would have given the

whole.’—‘Nay, that surely was not the case,’ replied the squire; ‘but he

held fast by the old proverb, which says, The man in wisdom must be old,

who knows in giving where to hold.’

Don Quixote smiled at this remark, and desired the man to lift the third

cover, under which appeared the figure of the patron of Spain on

horseback, with his bloody sword, trampling down and bruising the heads

of the Moors. Don Quixote seeing this representation, exclaimed, ‘Ah!

this is a knight, and chief in the squadrons of Christ; his name is Don

San Diego Mata Moros[197], and he was one of the most valiant saints and

knights which earth ever produced, or heaven now contains.’ Then they

unveiled the fourth, which exhibited St. Paul falling from his horse,

with all the circumstances usually set forth in the picture of his

conversion, so lively represented, that one would have almost thought

Christ was speaking, and Paul answering the voice. ‘This,’ said Don

Quixote, ‘was the most bitter enemy the church of God ever had, while

our Lord and Saviour was on earth, and afterwards the greatest defender

it will ever have: a knight-errant in his life, and a perfect saint in

his death; an unwearied labourer in the vineyard of our Lord, a teacher

of the Gentiles, schooled by Heaven, and whose professor and master was

Jesus Christ himself.’

There being no other images to see, Don Quixote desired the man to cover

up those he had examined; and addressing himself to the bearers,

‘Brothers,’ said he, ‘I look upon it as a good omen to have met with

these images; for these saints and knights were of my profession, which

is the exercise of arms: with this difference, however, they were

saints, and fought in a divine manner; and I, who am a sinner, fight in

the manner of men. They conquered Heaven by the force of their arms; for

the kingdom of Heaven suffers violence; whereas I know not, hitherto,

what I have conquered by the toils and troubles I have undergone: but if

my Dulcinea del Toboso should be delivered from those she now sustains,

my fortune will be bettered, my judgment repaired, and perhaps my steps

may be directed through a better path than that which I at present

follow.’

This declaration was closed with an exclamation of Sancho, who cried

aloud, ‘The Lord give ear, I pray; and sin be deaf for aye!’ The men

were equally astonished at the knight’s appearance and discourse, one

half of which they did not understand; nevertheless, they made an end of

their meal, shouldered their images, and taking leave of Don Quixote,

pursued their journey. Sancho was, on this occasion, as much astonished

at the learning of his master, as if he had never known him before that

day; and imagined there was not an history or event in the whole world,

that was not decyphered on his nail, or nailed to his memory. ‘Truly,

master of mine,’ said he, ‘if what has happened to us to-day may be

called an adventure, it is the most sweet and delicious of all that have

yet befallen us in the whole course of our peregrinations; from this we

have escaped with whole skins and fearless hearts; we have neither

unsheathed our swords, battered the earth with our poor carcases, nor

are we left in a starving condition; blessed be God who hath spared me

to see this good luck with my own eyes!’—‘Thou sayest well, Sancho,’

replied the knight; ‘but thou must take notice, that all times are not

the same, nor equally fortunate; and those incidents which the vulgar

call omens, though not founded on any natural reason, have, even by

persons of sagacity, been held and deemed as fair and fortunate. One of

these superstitious omen-mongers rises in the morning, goes abroad,

chances to meet a friar belonging to the beatified St. Francis; and, as

if he had encountered a dragon in his way, runs back to his own house

with fear and consternation. Another Foresight[198] by accident scatters

the salt upon the table, by which fear and melancholy are scattered

through his heart; as if nature was obliged to foretel future

misfortunes by such trivial signs and tokens; whereas, a prudent man and

a good Christian will not so minutely scrutinize the purposes of Heaven.

Scipio chancing to fall in landing upon the coast of Africk, and

perceiving that his soldiers looked upon this accident as a bad omen, he

embraced the soil with seeming eagerness, saying, “Thou shalt not ’scape

me, Africk; for I have thee safe within my arms.” Therefore, Sancho, my

meeting with those images I consider as a most happy encounter.’—‘I am

of the same opinion,’ answered the squire; ‘but I wish your worship

would be pleased to tell me, for what reason the Spaniards, when they

join battle, and invoke that same St. Diego Mata Moros, cry, “St. Jago!”

and “Close, Spain!” Is Spain cloven in such a manner, as to want

closing; or what is the meaning of that ceremony?’—‘Sancho,’ replied the

knight, ‘thy simplicity is very great. You must know, that God has given

this great Knight of the Red Cross, as a patron and protector to Spain,

especially in those dreadful battles fought against the Moors. The

Spaniards, therefore, invoke and call upon him as their defender on all

such occasions; nay, many times hath he been seen overthrowing,

trampling, slaying, and destroying the squadrons of the children of

Hagar[199]; and of this truth I could convince thee by many examples

recorded in the authentick histories of Spain[200].’

Sancho changing the subject of conversation, ‘Signior,’ said he, ‘I was

astonished at the boldness of her grace’s damsel, Altisidora. I’faith!

she must be rarely pricked and stabbed by him they call Cupid; who, they

say, is a mischievous blind boy, and is able, with those bleared eyes of

his, or rather with no eyes at all, if once he takes aim, to pierce

through and through with his arrows, the smallest heart that ever was

seen. I have also heard it observed, that by the modesty and reserve of

young women, these same amorous shafts are blunted and broken; but in

Altisidora they seem rather to be whetted than blunted.’—‘Sancho,’

replied Don Quixote, ‘you must know that love has no respect of persons;

nor, in his progress, does he confine himself within the bounds of

reason; indeed he is of the same disposition with death; for he assaults

the lofty palaces of kings, as well as the humble cottages of swains.

When he once has taken full possession of the soul, his first exploit is

to expel fear and modesty; and without these did Altisidora declare her

passion, which engendered not pity, but confusion in my breast.’—‘O

monstrous and notorious cruelty!’ cried Sancho, ‘unheard-of ingratitude!

I can say for myself, that the least kind word from her would have

subdued and made me her bond slave. Ah, the son of a whore! what a heart

of marble, bowels of brass, and soul of plaister!—But I cannot, for the

blood of me, conceive what the damsel could see in your worship, to tame

and bring her to such an humble pass; what finery, what good humour,

what gentility could she observe about your person? or what beauty could

she spy in that face? for women are taken with these qualities either

severally or conjunctly. Verily, verily, I have often stopped to survey

your worship from the sole of your foot to the last hair upon your

scull; and I protest before God! I think you would be more apt to

frighten than to captivate a fair lady; and as I have, moreover, heard

it said, that beauty is the chief and principal article that inspires

love, your worship being quite destitute of that commodity, I cannot

imagine what the poor creature was in love with.’—‘Take notice, Sancho,’

replied Don Quixote, ‘there are two kinds of beauty, one of the mind,

and another of the body: that of the mind displays itself in the

understanding, in honourable and virtuous behaviour, in a liberality of

disposition, and in good breeding; now, all these qualifications may

center in an ugly man; and when this kind of beauty, preferable to that

of the body, is the object of admiration, it produces love that glows

with equal impetuosity and advantage. For my own part, Sancho, I can

easily see that I am not beautiful; but I likewise know I am not

deformed; and a gentleman who is not altogether monstrous, may inspire

the most ardent love, provided he is in possession of those qualities of

the mind which I have mentioned.’

Thus discoursing together they entered a wood, at a small distance from

the highway; and, all of a sudden, without dreaming of any such lett or

impediment, Don Quixote found himself entangled among some nets of green

thread, which were spread and stretched from tree to tree. As he could

not conceive the meaning of this phænomenon, ‘I believe,’ said he to

Sancho, ‘that this of the nets must be one of the newest adventures that

ever were imagined or contrived. Let me die if the inchanters by whom I

am persecuted, have not a mind to entangle me in them, and obstruct my

journey, in revenge for my rigour and indifference towards Altisidora!

But I shall give them to understand, that although these nets, instead

of thread, were made of the hardest adamant, and stronger than that in

which the jealous God of blacksmiths caught Mars and Venus together, I

would break through them as easily as if they were of rushes and unspun

cotton.’

[Illustration: Don Quixote and the Shepherdesses.]

So saying, he endeavoured to proceed and destroy this obstacle, when all

at once, from a tuft of trees, came forth two most beautiful

shepherdesses, at least they were clad like shepherdesses, though their

jackets and petticoats were of fine brocade—I say, their petticoats were

of the richest gold tabby; their hair hung loose upon their shoulders,

and in shining might have vied with the rays of Apollo himself; their

heads were adorned with garlands of green laurel, interwoven with sprigs

of red amaranth; and their age seemed to be neither under fifteen, nor

turned of eighteen; a sight that struck Sancho with admiration, the

knight with surprize, and suspended the sun in the middle of his career.

All the four, for some time, remained in silent wonder; and at length,

the first who spoke was one of the two country maidens, who, addressing

herself to Don Quixote, ‘Forbear, Sir Knight,’ said she, ‘and do not

break our nets, which, I assure you, were not spread for your

inconvenience, but merely for our own pastime: and because I know you

will ask for what reason they are placed, and who we are, I will satisfy

your curiosity in a few words. At a village about two leagues from

hence, which is inhabited by many people of fortune and fashion, it was

agreed among a number of friends and relations, that they, their wives,

sons, daughters, neighbours, friends and kinsfolks, should come and

enjoy the fine season in this spot, which is the most agreeable

situation in all this country; and here form a new pastoral Arcadia, the

girls being habited like shepherdesses, and the young men like swains.

We have studied two eclogues; one of the famous poet Garcilasso, and

another of the most excellent Camoens, in his own Portuguese language;

though they are not yet represented, for we arrived only yesterday.

Among these trees we have pitched some field-tents, upon the banks of a

plentiful stream which fertilizes all these meadows; and last night we

spread these nets from tree to tree, in order to deceive and catch the

simple little birds, which, frightened by the noise we make, may fly

into the snare: if you chuse to be our guest, Signior, you shall be

treated liberally and courteously, for at present neither melancholy nor

disgust shall enter this place.’

Here she left off speaking; and Don Quixote replied—‘Assuredly, most

beauteous nymph, Acteon himself could not be seized with more surprize

and admiration, when he all of a sudden beheld Diana bathing, than that

which but now overwhelmed me at sight of such uncommon charms! I applaud

the scheme of your entertainments and diversions; I thank you heartily

for your courteous proffer, and if I can serve you in any shape, you may

command me, with full assurance of being obeyed; for I have chosen this

profession solely because it consists in being grateful and benevolent

to all mankind, especially to persons of rank such as your appearance

declares you to be; and if these nets, which I suppose occupy but a

small space, were extended over the whole circumference of the globe, I

would find new worlds through which I might pass, rather than by

breaking the least mesh, run the risque of interrupting your diversion.

That you may give some credit to this exaggeration, be pleased to take

notice, that he who makes it is no other than Don Quixote de La Mancha,

if peradventure such a name hath ever reached your ears.’

The young lady no sooner heard these words, than turning to the other

shepherdess, ‘O my dear companion!’ cried she, ‘what an happy incident

is this! that there knight, I assure thee, is the most valiant,

enamoured, and courteous person in the whole world, if we are not misled

and deceived by the printed history of his exploits, which I have read

from end to end; and I’ll lay a wager that honest man who accompanies

him is one Sancho Panza, his squire, whose pleasantry is above all

comparison.’—‘You are in the right,’ said Sancho; ‘I am that same

pleasant fellow and loyal squire whom your ladyship hath so honourably

mentioned; and that gentleman is my master, the very individual

historified and aforesaid Don Quixote de La Mancha.’

‘Good now, my dear,’ said the other, ‘let us beseech them to stay; our

fathers and brothers will be infinitely pleased with their conversation;

for I have likewise heard the same account of the knight’s valour and

the squire’s pleasantry: as for Don Quixote, in particular, he is said

to be the most constant and loyal lover that ever was known; and that

his mistress is one Dulcinea del Toboso, who bears away the palm of

beauty from all the ladies in Spain.’—‘Aye, and justly too,’ said the

knight; ‘unless your unequalled beauty should invalidate her claim.

Weary not yourselves, fair ladies, in persuading me to stay; for the

indispensible duties of my profession will not allow me to rest in any

place whatever.’

Just as he pronounced these words, they were joined by a brother of one

of the two nymphs, clad likewise in the fashion of a shepherd, though

his dress, in point of richness and gaiety, corresponded with that of

the ladies, who told him that the gentleman on horseback was the valiant

Don Quixote de La Mancha, and the other his squire Sancho, whose

characters he already knew from his having perused their history. The

gallant youth paid his compliments, and pressed Don Quixote to accompany

them to the tents, in such a manner that he could not help complying.

Then setting up the shout, the nets were filled with different kinds of

little birds, which, deceived by the colour of the meshes, flew

precipitately into the very danger they sought to avoid.

In this place they were joined by above thirty persons, gaily clad like

shepherds and shepherdesses, who were immediately informed of the names

of Don Quixote and his squire; a circumstance which afforded them no

small satisfaction, as the history had already made them acquainted with

the characters of both.

Repairing to the tents, where they found tables ready furnished with

elegance and abundance, they complimented the knight with the place of

honour, and all the company gazed upon him with admiration. At length,

when the cloth was taken away, Don Quixote raising his voice, thus

harangued them with great solemnity: ‘Of all the crimes which mankind

commit, though some say pride is the greatest, I affirm that ingratitude

is the most atrocious, adhering to the common supposition, that hell is

crouded with the ungrateful. This crime I have, as much as in me lies,

endeavoured to avoid ever since the first moment in which I could

exercise my reason; and though I may not be able to repay in kind the

benefits which I receive, I substitute the will for the deed: when that

is not sufficient, I publish them to the world; for he that promulgates

the favours he has received, would also requite them with equal

generosity, if it was in his power to make such recompence. But, for the

most part, people who receive benefits are inferior to those who bestow

them; and, therefore, God is above all, because he is the fountain of

all good things. Yet there is an infinite difference between the

benefits conferred by men and those bestowed by God, so as to reject all

comparison; and this narrowness and insufficiency on our part, is in

some measure supplied by gratitude. Now, I being grateful for the

favours you have done me, which I cannot repay in the same measure, and

being hampered by the narrow limits of my ability, must offer that which

is in my power to present; I say, therefore, that I will for two natural

days, in the middle of that high-road that leads to Saragossa, maintain

that the ladies here present, disguised in pastoral habits, are the most

fair and courteous damsels in the whole world, excepting always and

only, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, sole mistress of my thoughts;

without offence to the honourable hearers be it spoken.’

Here Sancho, who had stood listening attentively to what he said,

exclaimed with great vociferation, ‘Is it possible, now, that there can

be persons in the world, who have the presumption to say and swear that

my master is a madman? Pray tell me, gentlemen and ladies, shepherds and

shepherdesses, is there ever a country-curate in Spain, let him be never

so wise and learned, that could say what my master has just now said; or

is there a knight-errant, let him be never so famed for valour, who

could make such an offer as my master has made!’

Don Quixote turning to Sancho, with rage and indignation in his

countenance, ‘Miscreant,’ said he, ‘is it possible there should be a

person upon earth who would not say thou art stark mad, and that thy

soul is lined and bordered with fillets of malice and knavery? By what

authority, wretch! art thou entitled to intermeddle in my affairs, and

give thy opinion whether my brain be sound or crazy? Seal up thy lips,

and make no reply; but saddle Rozinante, if he is without his saddle,

and let us go immediately and perform my promise; for as I have justice

on my side, you may deem all those who shall contradict my assertion as

already vanquished.’

So saying, he rose from his seat with great fury and demonstrations of

wrath, leaving the whole company astonished, and doubting whether they

should consider him as a lunatick or person of sound intellects.

However, they endeavoured to dissuade him from publishing such a

declaration, saying they took his gratitude for granted, and that there

was no need of new proofs to demonstrate his valour, seeing those were

sufficient which they had seen recorded in the history of his

atchievements.

Notwithstanding this remonstrance, the knight executed his design; he

mounted Rozinante, embraced his shield, and grasping his lance, posted

himself in the middle of the king’s highway, which was not far from

their verdant habitation, being followed by Sancho upon Dapple and the

whole flock of those pastoral gentry, who were curious to see the issue

of his arrogant and hitherto unseen enterprize.

Having taken possession of the ground, he wounded the very vault of

heaven with the loudness of the tone in which he pronounced these words:

‘O ye passengers and travellers, knights, squires, persons on horseback

or a-foot, who come or are to come this way, within the space of two

days, from this present hour, know that Don Quixote de La Mancha,

knight-errant, is here posted to maintain that the nymphs who inhabit

these meadows and woods, excel in beauty and courtesy all the ladies

upon earth, exclusive of Dulcinea del Toboso, the mistress of my soul.

Let him who thinks the contrary, advance; here I am ready to receive

him.’

Twice did he repeat this declaration, and twice was it repeated unheard

by any knight adventurer; but fortune, which was bent upon directing his

affairs to better purpose, ordained, that in a very little time he

descried upon the road a great number of men on horseback, some of them

armed with lances riding towards him in great haste, and all in a

cluster. Those who were with Don Quixote no sooner perceived this troop,

than they turned their backs and retired a good way from the road,

knowing that some mischief would befal them, should they keep their

ground: the knight alone maintained his post with an undaunted heart,

and Sancho Panza shielded himself with the flanks of Rozinante.

When this troop of lancemen advanced, one of them that rode before the

rest, began to halloo as loud as he could cry to Don Quixote, ‘Get out

of the way, thou servant of the devil, or these bulls will trample thee

to dust!’—‘So ho, caitiffs!’ replied the knight; ‘your bulls shall not

avail against me, even though they are the fiercest that ever fed upon

the banks of Xarama; confess, ye miscreants, unsight, unseen, the truth

of what I have proclaimed, or meet my vengeance in the field of battle.’

The herdsman had no time to reply, nor Don Quixote to retire, had he

been never so willing; so that the drove of wild bulls and tame cattle,

together with a multitude of drivers and other people employed to convey

them to a place where, in a few days, they were to be baited—the whole

throng, I say, passed over the bellies of Don Quixote, Sancho,

Rozinante, and Dapple, whom they in a twinkling overthrew and rolled in

the mire, in such a manner that the squire was squeezed as flat as a

pancake, his master astonished, Dapple terribly bruised, and Rozinante

in no very catholick condition. At length, however, all the four got

upon their legs; and Don Quixote, staggering here, and tumbling there,

began to pursue the drove on foot, calling aloud—‘Halt, and wait a

little, ye felonious plebeians; he is a single knight who defies you to

the combat, and not of the disposition and opinion of those who say—“Lay

a bridge of silver for a flying enemy.”’

But notwithstanding all his exclamation, the drovers did not slacken

their pace, or mind his threats, more than they minded last year’s

weather. Don Quixote being so tired, that he could run no farther, sat

down upon the side of the road, more incensed than revenged, and waited

for Sancho, Rozinante, and Dapple, who soon arrived. Then the knight and

squire, mounting their beasts, proceeded on their journey with more

shame than satisfaction; and never dreamed of returning to take a formal

leave of the feigned or counterfeit Arcadia.

Footnote 197:

Moor-killer.

Footnote 198:

The original word is Mendoza, the name of a great family in Spain, one

of whom was remarkably superstitious.

Footnote 199:

The Moors are said to be descended from Hagar.

Footnote 200:

Sancho must have been very simple indeed, to be satisfied with this

explanation, which does not even hint at the main point of his

question; namely, Why do the Spanish soldiers, when they charge their

enemy, cry, ‘Close, Spain?’ A phrase of encouragement, by which the

soldiers exhort one another to do their duty, and close with the foe.

CHAP. VII.

IN WHICH IS RECOUNTED THE EXTRAORDINARY INCIDENT

THAT HAPPENED TO DON QUIXOTE,

AND MAY WELL PASS FOR AN ADVENTURE.

The dust and drought which Don Quixote and Sancho derived from the

uncivil behaviour of the bulls, were remedied by a clear and limpid

stream which they had the good fortune to find in a good shade, and on

the margin of which this down-trodden pair, the master and man, seated

themselves, after Rozinante and Dapple were unbridled, and unhaltered,

and left to the freedom of their own will. Sancho immediately had

recourse to the store of his wallet, from which he drew forth what he

usually called his belly-timber; but not before he had rinsed his mouth,

and his master had washed his own face, in consequence of which

refreshment they recovered their exhausted spirits. Nevertheless, Don

Quixote forbore eating, out of pure vexation; while Sancho, who durst

not touch the food that was before him, waited, out of pure good

manners, until his master should begin. Seeing, however, the knight so

absorbed in his own imagination, that he forgot to lift the bread to his

mouth, he, without letting one word escape his own, but trampling

under-foot all kind of good-breeding, began to cram his paunch with the

bread and cheese which constituted his provision. ‘Eat, friend Sancho,’

said Don Quixote, ‘and support life, which is of more importance to thee

than to me, and leave me to die by the strength of imagination and the

severity of my misfortunes. I, Sancho, was born to live dying, and thou

to die eating; and that thou mayest be convinced of this truth, consider

me recorded in history, renowned in arms, courteous in demeanour,

respected by princes, courted by damsels; and, after all, when I

expected palms, triumphs, crowns of laurel, obtained and merited by my

valiant atchievements, I have this morning seen myself trampled,

spurned, and bruised, by the feet of filthy, unclean animals! This

consideration blunts my teeth, stupifies my grinders, benumbs my hands,

and deprives me wholly of appetite; so that I believe I shall die of

hunger, the most cruel of all deaths.’—‘At that rate,’ answered the

squire, without suspending the action of his jaws, ‘your worship will

not approve of the proverb which says—“Let Martha die, but not for lack

of pye.” At least I, for my own part, have no intention to starve

myself; on the contrary, I am resolved to follow the example of the

cordwainer who stretches the leather with his teeth until it is

sufficient for his purpose; now, I will also employ my teeth in

stretching out my life with eating, to that end which is ordained by

Heaven; and you must know, Signior, that it is the greatest madness in

nature to seek to despair like your worship. Take my advice; eat a

little for refreshment, and then take a nap upon the green couch of this

delightful grass, and when you awake you will see how much you’ll be

relieved.’