The history of the valorous and vvitty-knight-errant, Don-Quixote, of the Mancha tr. out of the Spanish.

CHAP. IV.

Of that which one of the Goat-heards recounted to those that were with Don-Quixote.

ABOUT this time arived another youth, one of those that brought them provision from the Village, who said, Companions doe not you know what passeth in the Village? How can wee know it bee∣ing absent? saies another of them. Then wit, quoth the youth, that the famous Sheepheard, and Student Chrisostome died this morning, and they murmur that hee died for love of that divellish lasse Maree∣la, William the rich his daughter, shee that goes up and down these Plaines and Hills among us in the habit of a Sheepheardesse; Dost thou mean Marcela, quoth one of them? Even her, I say, answered the other; and the jest is, that hee hath commanded in his Testament, that hee bee buried in the fields, as if he were a Moor; and that it be at the foot of the Rock, where the Fountain stands of the Cork-Tree. For that according to same, and as they say, he himself affirmed, was the place wherein he viewed her first. And he hath likewise commanded such other things to be done, as the ancienter sort of the Village doe not allow, nor think fit to be performed; for they seem to be ceremonies of the Gentils. To all which objections his great friend Ambrosio the Student, who likewise apparelled himself like a Sheepheard, at once with him answers, that all shall be accomplished, without omission of any thing, as Chrysostome hath ordeyned, and all the Village is in an uproar about this affair, and yet it is said that what Ambrosio and all the other Sheepheards his friends doe pretend shall in fine be done: and to morrow morning they will come to the place I have named to burie him with great pomp: and as I suppose it will be a thing worthy the seeing: at leastwise I will not omit to goe and behold it, although I were sure that I could not return the same day to the Village. We will all doe the same, quoth the Goat-heards, and will draw Lots who shall tarry here to keep all our Heards. Thou saist well Peter, quoth one of them, although that labour may be excused, for I mean to stay behinde for you all, which you must not attribute to any virtue, or little curio∣sity in me; but rather to the fork that prickt my foot the other day, and makes me un∣able to travell from hence. We doe thank thee notwithstanding, quoth Peter, for thy good will. And Don-Quixote, who heard all their discourse, intreated Peter to tell him who that dead man was, and what the Sheepheardesse of whom they spoak.

Peter made answer, that what he knew of the affair was, that the dead person was a rich Gentleman of a certain Village, seated among those mountains, who had studied many yeers in Salamanca, and after returned home to his house, with the opinion to be a very wise and learned man: But principally it was reported of him, that he was skill∣full in Astronomie, and all that which passed above in heaven, in the Sunne and the Moon; for he would tell us most punctually the clips of the Sunne and the Moon. Friend, quoth Don-Quixote, the darkning of these two greater Luminaries is called an Eclipse, and not a Clipse. But Peter stopping not at those trifles, did prosecute his Hi∣story, saying; he did also Prognosticate, when the yeer would be abundant or Estill. Thou wouldest say Sterril, quoth Don-Quixote. Sterril or Estil, said Peter, all is one for my purpose: And I say, that by his words, his father and his other friends, that gave credit to him, became very rich: For they did all that he counselled them, who would say unto them; sow Barley this yeer and no Wheat. In this you may sow Pease and no Barley. The next yeer will be good for Oyle. The three ensuing you shall not gather a drop. That Science is called Astrologie, quoth Don-Quixote. I know not how it is called, replied Peter, but I know well he knew all this and much more. Finally, a few moneths after he came from Salamanca, he appeared one day apparalled like a

Sheepheard with his Flock, and leather Coat; having laid aside the long habits that he wore, being a Scholler, and joyntly with him came also a great friend of his, and fellow Student called Ambrosio, apparraled like a Sheepheard. I did almost forget to tell how Crisostome the dead man was a great maker of Verses; insomuch that he made the Carols of Christmas day at night, and the playes for Corpus Christi day, which the youths of our Village did represent, and all them affirmed, that they were most excel∣lent. When those of the Village saw the two Schollers so suddainly clad like Sheep∣heards, they were amazed, and could not guesse the cause that moved them to make so wonderfull a change. And about this time Chrisostome's father died, and he remained possessed of a great deal of goods, as well moveable as immoveable; and no little quan∣tity of Cattell great and small, and also a great sum of money; of all which the young man remained a dissolute Lord. And truly he deserved it all; for he was a good fel∣low, charitable, and a friend of good folk; and he had a face like a blessing. It came at last to be understood, that the cause of changing his habit was none other, then for to goe up and down through these Desarts after the Sheepherdesse Marcela, whom our Heard named before; of whom the poor dead Crisostome was become enamoured. And I will tell you now, because it is fit you should know it, what this wanton Lasse is, perhaps, and I think without perhaps, you have not heard the like thing in all the dayes of your life, although you had lived more yeers then Sarna. Say Sarra, quoth Don-Quixote, being not able any longer to hear him to change one word for ano∣ther. The Sarna or Scabb, quoth Peter, lives long enough too. And if you goe thus Sir, interrupting my tale at every pace, we shall not be able to end it in a yeer. Par∣don me friend, quoth Don-Quixote; for I speak to thee by reason there was such diffe∣rence between Sarna and Sarra. But thou doest answer well; for the Sarna or Scab lives longer then Sarra: and therefore prosecute thy History; for I will not interrupt thee any more. I say then deer Sir of my Soul, quoth the Goat-heard, that there was in our Village a Farmer that was yet richer then Crisostomes father, who was called William, to whom fortune gave in the end of his great riches a daughter called Mar∣cela, of whose birth her mother died, who was the best woman that dwelled in all this circuit. Me thinks I doe now see her quick before me, with that face which had on the one side the Sun, & on the other side the Moon; & above all, shee was a thriftie huswife, and a great friend to the poor: For which I believe that her soul is this very hour en∣joying of the Gods in the other World. For grief of the losse of so good a wife, her husband William likewise dyed, leaving his daughter Marcela young and rich in the custody of his Uncle, who was a Priest, and Curate of our Village. The child grew with such beauty as it made us remember that of her mother, which was very great. And yet notwithstanding they judged that the daughters would surpasse hers, as indeed it did: for when she arrived to the age of fourteen or fifteen yeers old, no man be∣held her, that did not blesse God for making her so fair: and most men remained ena∣moured and cast away for her love. Her Unkle kept her with very great care and closenesse: And yet neverthelesse the fame of her great beauty did spread it self in such sort, that as well for it as for her great Riches, her Unkle was not only requested by those of our Village, but also was prayed, solicited, and importuned by all those that dwelled many leagues about, and that by the very best of them, to give her to them in marriage. But he (who is a good Christian every inch of him) although he desired to marry her presently as soon as she was of age, yet would he not doe it with∣out her good will, without ever respecting the gain and profit he might make by the possession of her goods, whilest he desired her marriage. And in good sooth this was spoaken of, to the good Priest his commendation, in more then one meeting of the people of our Village. For I would have you to wit, Sir Errant, that in these little Villages they talk of all things, and make account, as I doe, that the Priest must have been too good who could obliege his Parishiones to speak so well of him, and especi∣ally in the Villages. Thou hast reason, quoth Don-Quixote; and therefore follow on, for the History is very pleasant, and thou good Peter doest recount it with a very good grace. I pray God, said Peter, that I never want our Heards; for it is that which

makes to the purpose. And in the rest you shall understand, that although her Unkle propounded and told to his Niese the quality of every woer of the many that desired her for wife, and intreated her to marry and chuse at her pleasure; yet would she never answer other, but that she would not marry as then, and that in respect of her over green years, she did not finde her self able enough yet to bear the burden of marriage. With these just excuses which shee seemed to give, her Unkle lest off importuning of her, and did expect untill she were farther entred into yeers; and that she might know how to choose one that might like her. For hee was wont to say, and that very well, That Parents were not to place or bestow their Children, where they bore no liking. But see here when we least imagined it, the coy Marcela appeared one morning to become a Sheep∣heardesse; and neither her Uncle, nor all those of the Village which disswaded her from it, could work any effect, but she would needs goe to the Fields, and keep her own Sheep with the other young Lasses of the Town. And shee coming thus in publique, when her beauty was seen without hindrance, I cannot possibly tell unto you, how many rich youths, as well Gentlemen as Farmers, have taken on them the habit of Chri∣sostome, and follow woing of her up and down those Fields. One of which, as is said already, was our dead man, of whom it is said, that leaving to love her, he had at last made her his Idol. Nor is it to be thought that because Marcela set her self in that liberty, and so loose a life, and of so little or no keeping, that therefore she hath given the least token or shadow of dishonesty or negligence: nay rather such is the watch∣fullnesse wherewithall shee looks to her honour, that among so many as serve and sollicite her, not one hath praised or can justly vaunt himself to have received at her hands, the least hope that may be to obtain his desires. For although she did not flie or shun the company and conversation of Sheepheards, and doth use them courteously and friendly, whensoever any one of them begin to discover their intention, be it ever so just and holy, as that of Matrimony, shee casts them away from her, as with a sling.

And with this manner of proceeding shee does more harme in this Countrey, then if the Plague had entred into it by her meanes, for her affability and beauty doth draw to it the hearts of those which doe serve and love her: But her disdaine and resolution doe conduct them to termes of desparation: and so they know not what to say unto her, but to call her with a loud voyce cruell and ungratefull, with other titles like unto this, which doe cleerely manifest the nature of her condition; and Sir, if you staid here but a few daies, you should heare these Mountaines resound with the lamentations of those wretches that follow her. There is a certain place not far off, wherein are about two dozen of Beech-trees, and there is not any one of them in whose rinde is not ingra∣ven Marcelas name, and over some names graven also a crowne in the same tree, as if her lover would plainly denote that Marcela beares it away, and deserves the Gar∣land of all humane beauty. Here sighs one Sheepheard, there another complaines, in another place are heard amorous ditties, here in another dolefull and despayring la∣ments: Some one there is that passeth over all the whol houres of the night at the foot of an Oake or Rock, and there without folding once his weeping eyes, swallowed and transported by his thoughts, the Sunne findes him there in the morning: and some o∣ther there is, who without giving wade or truce to his sighes, doth amidst the fervor of the most fastidious heate of the Summer, stretcht upon the burning sand, breathe his pittifull complaints to Heaven: and of this, and of him, and of those, and these, the beautifull Marcela doth indifferently and quietly triumph: all we that know her, doe await to see wherein this her loftinesse will finish, or who shall be so happy as to gain dominion over so terrible a condition, and enjoy so peerlesse a beauty. And be∣cause all that I have recounted is so notorious a truth, it make me more easily believe that our companion hath told, that is said of the occasion of Chrisostome's death: and therefore I doe counsell you Sir, that you doe not omit to be present to morrow at his buriall, which will be worthy the seeing; for Chrisostome hath many friends, and the place wherein he commanded himself to bee buried is not half a league from hence. I doe mean to be there, said Don-Quixote, and doe render thee many thanks for the

delight thou hast given me, by the relation of so pleasant a History. O, quoth the Goat-Heard, I doe not yet know the half of the Adventures succeeded to Marcela's lovers; but peradventure wee may meet some Sheepheard on the way to morrow that will tell them unto us. And for the present you will doe well to goe take your rest under some roof, for the air might hurt your wound, although the Medicine be such that I have applied to it, that any contrary accidents needs not much to be feared. Sancho Panca being wholy out of patience with the Goat-Heards long discourse, did sollicite for his part his Master so effectually as he brought him at last into Peters Cabin, to take his rest for that night; whereinto after he had entred, he bestowed the remnant of the might in remembrances of his Lady Dulcinea in imitation of Marcelaes Lovers. Sancho Panca did lay himself down between Rozinante and his Asse, and slept it out, not like a disfavored Lover, but like a man stamped and bruised with tramplings.