_The discourse continued; also the wise and pleasant dialogue between
Sancho Panza and Teresa Panza his wife; together with other passages
worthy of happy memory._
During this discourse Rozinante's neighing reached the ears of the
party. Don Quixote took this for a lucky omen, and resolved to set out
upon another sally within three or four days. He discovered his
resolutions to the bachelor, and consulted him to know which way to
steer his course. The bachelor advised him to take the road of
Saragossa, in the kingdom of Arragon, a solemn tournament being
shortly to be performed at that city on St. George's festival; where,
by worsting all the Arragonian champions, he might win immortal
honour, since to out-tilt them would be to out-rival all the knights
in the universe. He applauded his matchless courage, but withal
admonished him not to be so desperate in exposing himself to dangers,
since his life was not his own, but theirs who in distress stood in
want of his assistance and protection. "That is it now," quoth Sancho,
"that makes me some times ready to run mad, Mr. Bachelor, for my
master makes no more to set upon an hundred armed men than a young
hungry tailor to guttle down half a dozen of cucumbers. Surely, Mr.
Bachelor, there is a time to retreat as well as a time to advance; for
I have heard some body say, and, if I am not mistaken, it was my
master himself, that valour lies just between rashness and
cowheartedness; and if it be so, I would not have him run away without
there is a reason for it, nor would I have him fall on when there is
no good to be got by it. But, above all things, I would have him to
know, if he has a mind I should go with him, that the bargain is, he
shall fight for us both, and that I am tied to nothing but to look
after him and his victuals and clothes. So far as this comes to, I
will fetch and carry like any water-spaniel; but to think I will lug
out my sword, though it be but against poor rogues, and sorry shirks,
and hedge-birds, in troth I must beg his diversion. For my part, Mr.
Bachelor, it is not the fame of being thought valiant that I aim at,
but that of being deemed the very best and trustiest squire that ever
followed the heels of a knight-errant. And if, after all my services,
my master Don Quixote will be so kind as to give me one of those many
islands which his worship says he shall light on, I shall be much
beholden to him; but if he does not, why then I am born, do you see,
and one man must not live to rely on another. Mayhaps the bread I
shall eat without government will go down more savourily than if I
were a governor; and what do I know but that the devil is providing me
one of these governments for a stumbling-block, that I may stumble and
fall? I was born Sancho, and Sancho I mean to die; and yet for all
that, if fairly and squarely, with little trouble and less danger,
Heaven would bestow on me an island, or some such like matter, I am no
such fool neither, do ye see, as to refuse a good thing when it is
offered me. No, I remember the old saying: 'when the ass is given
thee, run and take him by the halter;' and 'when good luck knocks at
the door, let him in, and keep him there.'"
"My friend Sancho," said Carrasco, "you have spoken like any
university professor. However, trust in Heaven's bounty, and the noble
Don Quixote, and he may not only give thee an island, but even a
kingdom." "One as likely as the other," quoth Sancho; "and yet let me
tell you, Mr. Bachelor, the kingdom which my master is to give me you
shall not find it thrown into an old sack; for I have felt my own
pulse, and find myself sound enough to rule kingdoms and govern
islands; I have told my master as much before now." And so saying
Sancho went to get everything ready for his journey.
Sancho came home so cheerful and so merry, that his wife was impatient
to know the cause. "My dear," cried she, "what makes you so merry?" "I
should be more merry, my chuck," quoth Sancho, "would but Heaven so
order it that I were not so well pleased as I seem to be." "You speak
riddles, husband," quoth she; "I don't know what you mean by saying
you should be more merry if you were not so well pleased; for, though
I am silly enough, I cannot think a man can take pleasure in not being
pleased." "Look ye, Teresa," quoth Sancho, "I am merry because I am
once more going to serve my master Don Quixote, who is resolved to
have another frolic, and go a hunting after adventures, and I must go
with him. What should I lie starving at home for? The hopes of finding
another parcel of gold like that we spent rejoices my heart; but then
it grieves me to leave thee and those sweet babes of ours; and would
Heaven but be pleased to let me live at home dry-shod, in peace and
quietness, without gadding over hill and dale, through brambles and
briers, why then it is clear that my mirth would be more firm and
sound, since my present gladness is mingled with a sorrow to part with
thee. And so I have made out what I said, that I should be merrier if
I did not seem so well pleased."
"Look you, Sancho," quoth the wife; "ever since you have been a member
of a knight-errant you talk so round about the bush that nobody can
understand you." "Never mind," quoth Sancho; "only be sure you look
carefully after Dapple for these three days, that he may be in good
case and fit to bear arms; double his pittance, look out his pannel
and all his harness, and let every thing be set to rights; for we are
not going to a wedding, but to roam about the world, and to make our
party good with giants, and dragons, and hobgoblins, and to hear
nothing but hissing, and yelling, and roaring, and howling, and
bellowing; all which would be but sugar-plums, if we were not to meet
with Yanguesian carriers, and enchanted Moors." "Nay, as for that,
husband," quoth Teresa, "I am apt enough to think you squires-errant
don't eat their masters' bread for nothing; and therefore it shall be
my daily prayer that you may quickly be freed from that plaguy
trouble." "Troth, wife," quoth Sancho, "were not I in hopes to see
myself ere long governor of an island, on my conscience I should not
stir one inch from my own home." "Look ye, my dear," continued Teresa;
"if it should be thy good luck to get a government, prithee do not
forget thy wife and children. Take notice that little Sancho is
already full fifteen, and it is high time he went to school, if his
uncle the abbot mean to leave him something in the church. Then there
is Mary Sancho, your daughter; I dare say the burden of wedlock will
never be the death of her, for I shrewdly guess she wishes as much for
a husband as you for a government." "If it be Heaven's will," quoth
Sancho, "that I get any thing by government, I will see and match Mary
Sancho so well that she shall at least be called 'my lady.'" "By no
means, husband," cried the wife; "let her match with her match; if
from clouted shoes you set her upon high heels, and from her coarse
russet coat you put her into a fardingale, and from plain Moll and
'thee' and 'thou,' go to call her 'madam,' and 'your ladyship,' the
poor girl won't know how to behave herself, but will make a thousand
blunders, and shew her homespun country breeding." "Tush!" answered
Sancho, "it will be but two or three years' prenticeship; and then you
will see how strangely she will alter; 'your ladyship' and keeping of
state will become her as if they had been made for her;--and suppose
they should not, what is it to any body? Let her be but a lady, and
let what will happen."
"Good Sancho," quoth the wife, "don't look above yourself; I say,
keep to the proverb that says, 'birds of a feather flock together.' It
would be a fine thing, I trow, for us to go and throw away our child
on one of your lordlings, or right worshipfuls, who, when the toy
should take him in the head, would find new names for her, and call
her 'country Joan,' 'plough-jobber's brat,' and 'spinner's web.' No,
no, husband, I have not bred the girl up as I have done to throw her
away at that rate, I will assure ye. Do thee but bring home money, and
leave me to get her a husband. Why, there is Lope Tocho, old Joan
Tocho's son, a hale jolly young fellow, and one whom we all know; I
have observed he casts a sheep's eye at the wench; he is one of our
inches, and will be a good match for her; then we shall always have
her under our wings, and be all as one, father and mother, children
and grandchildren, and Heaven's peace and blessing will always be with
us. But never talk to me of marrying her at your courts and great
men's houses, where she will understand nobody, and nobody will
understand her." "Why, foolish woman," cried Sancho, "have you not
heard that 'he who will not when he may, when he will he shall have
nay?' when good luck is knocking at our door, is it fit to shut him
out? No, no, let us make hay while the sun shines, and spread our
sails before this prosperous gale. Canst thou not perceive, thou
senseless animal," said Sancho, going on, "that I ought to venture
over head and ears to light on some good gainful government, that may
free our ankles from the clogs of necessity, and marry Mary Sancho to
whom we please? Then thou wilt see how folks will call thee 'my Lady
Teresa Panza;' and thou wilt sit in the church with thy carpets and
cushions, and lean and loll in state, though the best gentlewoman in
the town burst with spite and envy. Go to, let us have no more of
this; Mary Sancho shall be a countess in spite of thy teeth, I say."
"Well, then, to let this alone, all I have to say is this, if you hold
still in the mind of being a governor, pray even take your son Sancho
along with you, and henceforth train him up to your trade of
governing; for it is but fitting that the son should be brought up to
the father's calling." "When once I am governor," quoth Sancho, "I
will send for him by the post, and I will send the money withal; for I
dare say I shall want none; there never wants those that will lend
governors money when they have none. But then be sure you clothe the
boy so, that he may look not like what he is, but like what he is to
be." "Send you but money," quoth Teresa, "and I will make him as fine
as a May-day garland." "So then, wife," quoth Sancho, "I suppose we
are agreed that our Moll shall be a countess." "The day I see her a
countess," quoth Teresa, "I reckon I lay her in her grave. However, I
tell you again, even follow your own inventions; you men will be
masters, and we poor women are born to bear the clog of obedience,
though our husbands have no more sense than a cuckoo." Here she fell
a weeping as heartily as if she had seen her daughter already dead and
buried. Sancho comforted her, and promised her, that though he was to
make her a countess, yet he would see and put it off as long as he
could. Thus ended their dialogue, and he went back to Don Quixote to
dispose every thing for a march.