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

CHAP. XI.

Which treates of the strange Adventures that happened to the Knight of the Mancha, in Sierra Morena; and of the pennance he did there, in imitation of Beltinebros.

DOn-Quixote tooke leave of the Goatheard, and mounting once againe on Rozinante, hee commanded Sancho to follow him, who obeyed but with a very ill will; and thus they travelled by little and little, entring into the thickest and roughest part of all the Mountaine, and Sancho went almost burst with a desire to reason with his Master, and therefore wished in minde that hee would once begin, that he might not transgresse his commandement of silence imposed on him, but growing at last wholly impotent to containe himselfe speechlesse any longer: Good Syr Don-Quixote. I pray you give mee your blessing, and license; for I meane to de∣dart from this place, and returne to my house, my wife and children, with whom I shall bee, at least, admitted to reason and speake my pleasure; for that you would de∣sire to have mee keepe you company through these Desarts, night and day, and that I may not speake when I please, is but to bury mee alive. Yet if Fortune had so happily disposed our affaires, as that beasts could speake as they did in Guisopetes time, the harme had beene lesse, for then would I discourse a while with Rozinante (seeing my ••iggardly fortune hath not consented I might doe it with mine Asse) what I thought good, and in this sort would I weave my mishaps; for it is a stubborne thing, and that cannot bee borne with patience, to travell all the dayes of our life, and not to encoun∣ter any other thing then tramplings under feete, tossings in Coverlets, blowes of stones and buffets, and bee besides all this forced to sow up our Mouthes, a man daring not to breake his minde, but to stande mute like a poste. Sancho, I understand thee now, quoth Don-Quixote, thou diest with longing to speake that which I have forbidden thee to speake; account therefore that commandement revoked, and say what thou plea∣sest, on condition that this revocation be only available and of force whilest we dewll in these Mountaines, and no longer.

So bee it, quoth Sancho, let mee speake now, for what may ••••••er befall God only knowes, and then beginning to take the benefit of his license, hee said, I pray you tell mee, what benefit could you reape by taking Queene Magimasaes part? Or what was it to the purpose that that Abbat was her friend or no? For if you had let it slip, see∣ing you were not his Judge, I verily beleeve that the foole had prosecuted his tale, and wee should have escaped the blow of the stone, the trampling under feete and spurnings; yea, and more then five or six good buffets. Yfaith Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, if thou knowest as well as I did, how honourable and principall a Lady was Queen Ma∣dasima, thou wouldst rather say that I had great patience, seeing I did not strike him on the mouth, out of which such blasphemies issued; for it is a very great dishonour to aver or thinke that any Queene would fall in love with a Barber. For the truth of the History is, that Master Elisabat, of whom the mad man spoke, was very prudent, and a man of a sound judgemen, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Queene as her Tutor and Physitian; but to thinke that shee was his Lemman, is a madnesse worthy the severest punishment: and to the end thou maist see that Cardenio knew not what hee said, thou must understand that when he spoke it, he then was wholy beside himself.

That's it which I say, quoth Sancho, that you ought not to make recount of words spoken by a Foole; for if fortune had not assisted you, but addressed the stone to your head, as it did to your breast, wee should have remained in good plight, for having tur∣ned so earnestly in that my Ladies defence, whom God confound: and think you that

Cardenio would not escape the dangers of the Law, by reason of his madnesse? Any Knight Errant, answered Don-Quixote, is bound to turn for the honour of women, of what quality soever, against•• mad or unmad men: How much more for Queens of so high degree and worth, as was Queen Madesina, to whom I bear particular affections for her good parts? For besides her being marvellous beautifull, shee was moreover very prudent and patient in her calamities, which were very many, and the company and counsells of Master Elisabat proved very beneficiall and necessary, to induce her to bear her mishaps with prudence and patience: and hence the ignorant and ill-meaning Vulgar took occasion to suspect and affirm, that shee was his friend: but I say again they lie, and all those that doe either think or say it, doe lie a thousand times.

Why, quoth Sancho, I neither say it nor think it; let those affirm any such thing, eat that ••ye and swallow it with their bread•• and if they of whom you spoak lived lightly, they have given account to God thereof by this: I come from my Vineyard; I know nothing: I am not afraid to know other mens lives: For he that buyes and lyes, shall feel it in his purse: How much more seeing I was borne naked, aud am now naked, I can neither win nor lose? A man is but a man, though he have a hose on his head; but howsoever, what is that to me? And many think there is a Sheep where there is no Fleece. But who shall bridle a man's understanding when men are prophane? Good God, quoth Don-Quixote! how many follies hast thou inserted here? and how wide from our purpose are those proverbs which thou hast recited? Honest Sancho, hold thy peace, and from henceforth indeavour to serve thy Master, and doe not meddle with things which concern thee nothing; and under∣stand with all thy five Senses, that whatsoever I have done, doe, or shall doe, is wholly guided by reason, and conformable to the rules of Knighthood, which I know better then all the other Knights that ever profest them in the world. Sir, quoth Sancho, and it is a good rule of Chivalry, that wee goe wandring and lost among these Mountains in this sort, without path or way, in the search of a mad-man, to whom peradventure after hee is found, will return a desire to finish what hee began, not of his tale, but of your head and my ribs, by indeavouring to break them soundly and thorowly.

Peace I say Sancho, once again, quoth Don-Quixote; for thou must wit, that the desire of finding the mad-man alone brings me not into these parts so much, as that which I have in my minde to atchieve a certain Adventure, by which I shall acquire eternall renown and fame, throughout the universall face of the earth; and I shall therewithall seal all that which may render a Knight Errant compleat and famous. And is the Adventure very dangerous, quoth Sancho Panca? No, answered the Knight of the Ill-favoured face, although the Die might runne in such sort, as wee might cast a hazard instead of an incounter; but all consists in thy diligence. In mine, quoth Sancho? Yes (quoth Don-Quixote) for if thou returnest speedily from the place whereunto I mean to send thee, my pain will also end shortly, and my glory commence very soon after: and because I will not hold thee long suspended, awaiting to hear the effect of my words, I would have thee to know, that the famous Amadis du Gaule was one of the most accomplished Knights Errant. I doe not say well, saying he was one; for hee was the only, the first, and prime Lord of as many as lived in his age. An evill yeer and a worse moneth for Don Belianis, or any other that shall dare presume to compare with him; for I swear, that they all are questionlesse deceived. I also say, that when a Painter would become rare and excellent in his Art, hee procures to imi∣tate the patterns of the most singular Masters of his Science: And this very rule runns currant throughout all other Trades and Exercises of account, which serve to adorn a well disposed Commonwealth; and so ought and doth he that means to obtain the name of a prudent and patient man, by imitating Vlysses, in whole person and dan∣gers doth Homer delineate unto us the true pourtraiture of patience and sufferance; as likewise Virgil demonstrates under the person of Eneas, the duty and valour of a pious sonne, and the Sagacity of a hardy and expert Captain, not shewing them such

as indeed they were, but as they should be, to remain as an example of Virtue, to ensuing Posterities. And in this very manner was Amadis the Noth-star and Sunne of valourous and amorous•• Knights, whom all we ought to imitate which march under the ensignes of Love and Chivalry. And this being so manifest as it is, I finde, friend Sancho, that the Knight Errant who shall imitate him most, shall likewise bee neerest to attain the perfection of Armes: And that wherein this Knight bewrayed most his Prudence, Valour, Courage, Patience, Constancie and Love, was when he retyred himself to doe penance, being disdained by his Lady Oriana, to the Poor Rock, changing his name unto that of Beltenebros, a name certainly most significative and proper for the life which he had at that time willingly chosen. And I may more easily imitate him herein, then in cleaving of Gyants, beheading of Serpents, killing of Monsters, over-throwing of Armies, putting•• Navies to flight, and finishing of Inchantments. And seeing that this Mountain is so fit for that purpose, there is no reason why I should overslip the occasion, which doth so commodiously proffer me her Locks.

In effect, quoth Sancho, what is it you meane to doe in these remote places? Have not I told thee already, said Don-Quixote, that I meane to follow Amadis, by play∣ing here the despayred, wood, and furious man? To imitate likewise the valiant Or∣lando, where hee found the tokens by a Fountaine that Angelica the faire had abused he•• selfe with Medozo, for greefe whereof hee ran mad, and pluckt up Trees by their roots, troubled the water of cleere Fountaines, slew Sheepheards, destroyed their Flocks, fi∣red the sheep-••olds, overthrew houses, trayled Mares after him, and committed a hundred thousand other insolencies worthy of eternall fame and memorie? And al∣though I meane not to imitate Roldan, or Orlands, or Rowland (for hee had all these names) exactly in every mad pranke that hee played: Yet will I doe it the best I can, in those things which shall seeme unto mee most essentiall. And perhaps I may rest contented with the only imitation of Amadis, who without indammaging any by his ravings, and only using these of feeling laments, ariving to as great fame thereby as any one whatsoever.

I beleeve, replied Sancho, that the Knights which performed the like penances, were moved by some reasons to doe the like austerities and follies; but good Sir, what occa∣sion hath beene offered unto you to become madd? What Lady hath disdayned you? Or what arguments have you found, that the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso hath ever dallied with Moore or Christian? There is the point, answered our Knight, and therein con∣sists the perfection of mine affaires; for that a Knight Errant doe runne madd upon any just occasion, deserves neither prayse nor thanks; the wit is in waxing madd without cause, whereby my Mistresse may understand, that if drie I could doe this, what would I have done being watered? How much more seeing I have a just motive through the proli••e absence that I have made from my ever supremest Lady Dulcinea of Toboso? For as thou mightest have heard read in Marias Ambrosio his Sheepheard,

To him that absent is, All things succeede amiss.

So that friend Sancho, I would not have thee lavish time longer in advising, to let slip so rare, so happy and singular an imitation. I am madd, and will bee madd, untill thou returne againe with answere upon a Letter, which I meane to send with thee to my Lady Dulcinea; and if it bee such as my loyalty deserves, my madnesse and penance shall end; but if the contrary, I shall runne madd in good earnest, and bee in that state that I shall apprehend nor feele any thing. So that howsoever I bee answered, I shall issue out of the conflict and paine wherein thou leavest me by joying the good thou shalt bring mee, as wise, or not feeling the evill thou shalt denounce, as mad. But tell mee Sancho, keepest thou charily yet the helmet of Mambrino, which I saw thee take up from the ground the other day, when that ungratefull fellow thought to have brok∣en it into pieces, but could not; by which may be collected the excellent temper thereof?

Sancho answered to this demand, saying, I cannot suffer or bear longer, Sir Knight of the Ill-favoured face, nor take patiently many things which you say; and I beginne to suspect by your words, that all that which you have said to mee of Chivalry, and of gaining Kingdomes and Empires, of bestowing Islands and other gifts and great things, as Knights Errant are wont, are all matters of ayre and lies, all couzenage or couzening, or how else you please to term it: for he that shall hear you name a Barbers Bason, Mambrino's Helmet, and that you will not abandon that errour in more then four dayes; what other can he think, but that hee who affirms such a thing doth want wit and discretion? I carry the Bason in my Bagge all battered and boared, and will have it mended, and dresse my beard in it at home, if God shall doe me the favour that I may one day see my Wife and Barnes.

Behold, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, I doe likewise swear, that thou haste the shallowest pate that ever any Squire had or hath in the World: is it possible, that in all the time thou hast gone with me, thou couldest not perceive, that all the Adven∣ters of Knights Errant doe appear Chimera's, follies, and desperate things, being quite contrary? Not that they are indeed such; but rather by reason that wee are still haunt∣ed by a crue of Inchanters, which change and transforme our acts making them seem what they please, according as they like to favour or annoy us. And so this which seems to thee a Barbers Bason, is in my conceit Mambrino his Helmet, and to another will appear in some other shape. And it is doubtlesly done by the profound Science of the wise man my friend, to make that seem a Bason, which really and truely is Mambrino's Helmet; because that it being so precious a Jewell, all the world would pursue me to deprive me of it; but now seeing that it is to like a Barbers Bason, they indeavour not to gain it, as was cleerly shewed in him that thought to break it the other day, and would not carry it with him, but left it lying behinde him on the ground; for yfaith hee had never left it, did he know the worthinesse thereof. Keep it friend, for I need it not at this present, wherein I must rather di••arme my self of the Armes I weare, and remain as naked as I was at the hour of my birth, if I shall take the humour rather to imitate Orlando in doing of my penance, then Amadis.

Whilest thus hee discoursed, hee arived to the foote of a loftie Mountaine, which stood like a hewn Rock, divided from all the rest, by the skyrt whereof glyded a smooth River, hemmed in on every side by a greene and flourishing Meadow, whose verdure did marveilously delight the greedy beholding eye. There were in it also many wilde Trees, and some plants and floures, which rendred the place much more pleasing. The Knight of the illfavored face made choice of this place to accomplish therein his penance, and therefore as soone as hee had viewed it, hee began to say with a loud voice, like a distracted man, these words ensuing. This is the place where the humor of mine eyes shall increase the liquid veines of this Chrystall Current, and my continu∣all and deepe sighes shall give perpetuall motion to the leaves of these mountanie Trees, in testimony of the paine which my oppressed heart doth suffer. O you, whosoever ye bee, Rusticall Gods, which have your Mansion in this inhabitable place, give care to the plaints of this unfortunate Lover, whom a long absence, and a few imagined suspi∣cions have conducted to deplore his state among these Desarts, and make him exclame on the rough condition of that Ingrate and Faire, who is the top, the su••••••, the peri∣od, terme and end of all humane beauty. O ye Napeas and Driades, which doe wont∣edly inhabite the Thickets and Groves, so may the nimble and lascyvious Satyres, by whom (although in vaine) you are beloved, never have power to interrupt your sweet rest, as you shall assist mee to lament my disasters, or at least attend them, whilest I dolefully breathe them. O Dulcinea of Toboso, the day of my night, the glory of my paine, North of my travells, and starre of my Fortunes; so heav'n enrich thee with the highest, whensoever thou shalt demand it, as thou wilt consider the place and passe, unto which thine absence hath conducted mee, and answere my faith and desires in com∣passionate and gracious manner. O solitary Trees (which shall from henceforward keepe company with my solitude) give tokens with the soft motion of your boughs, that my presence doth not dislike you. O thou my Squire, and gratefull companion in

all prosperous and adverse successes, beare well away what thou shalt see mee doe here, to the end that thou mayest after promptly recount it as the totall cause of my ruine. And saying so, he alighted from Rozinante, and taking off in a trice his bridle and sad∣dle, he struck him on the buttock, saying, Hee gives thee Liberty that wants it himself; O horse! as famous for thy works as thou art unfortunate by thy Fates: Goe where thou pleasest; for thou bearest written in thy forehead, how that neither the Hippo∣griphon of Astolpho, nor the renowned Frontino, which cost Bradamant so deerly, could compare with thee for swiftnesse.

When Sancho had viewed and heard his Lord speak thus, hee likewise said, Good be••ide him that freed us from the pains of unpannelling the gray Asse; for if he were here yfaith he should also have two or three claps on the buttocks, & a short Oration in his praise: yet if he were here, I would not permit any other to unpannell him, seeing there was no occasion why; for he good Beast was nothing subject to the passions of Love, or despair, no more then I, who was his Master when it pleased God: And in good sooth, Sir Knight of the Ill-favoured face, if my departure and your madnesle bee in good earnest, it will bee needfull to saddle Rozinante again, that he may supply the want of mine Asse; for it will shorten the time of my departure and return again: And if I make my voyage afoot, I know not when I shall arrive there, or return here back unto you; for in good earnest I am a very ill footman.

Let it be as thou likest, quoth Don-Quixote, for thy designe displeaseth me nothing; and therefore I resolve that thou shalt depart from hence after three dayes; for in the mean space thou shalt behold what I will doe and say for my Ladies sake, to the end thou mayest tell it to her. Why, quoth Sancho, what more can I view then that which I have seen already? Thou art altogether wide of the matter, answered Don-Quixote, for I must yet teare mine apparrell, throw away mine Armour, and beat my head about these Rocks, with many other things of that kinde that will strike thee into admiration. Let me beseech you, quoth Sancho, see well how you give your self those knocks about the Rocks; for you might happen upon some one so ungracious a Rock, as at the first rap would dissove all the whole Machina of your Adventures and Pen∣ance; and therefore I would be of opinion, seeing that you doe hold it necessary that some knocks be given with the head, and that this enterprize cannot be accomplished without them, that you content your self, seeing that all is but seigned, counterfeited, and a Jest, that you should, I say, content your self with striking it on the water, or on some other soft thing, as Cotten, or Wooll, and leave to my charge the exaggera∣tion thereof; for I will tell to my Lady, that you strike•• your head against the point of a Rock which was harder then a Diamond.

I thank thee, Sancho, for thy good will, quoth Don-Quixote; but I can assure thee that all these things which I doe, are no Jests, but very serious Earnests; for otherwise wee should transgresse the Statutes of Chivalry, which command us not to avouch any untruth, on pain of relapse, and to doe one thing for another, is as much as to lye. So that my head-knocks must be true, firm, and sound ones, without any sophisticall or fantasticall shaddow: and it will be requisite that thou leave me some lint to cure me, seeing that Fortune hath deprived us of the Balsamum which we lost. It was worse to have lost the Asse, quoth Sancho, seeing that at once with him we have lost our Lint, and all our other provision: and I intreat you most earnestly not to name again that accursed drink; for in only hearing it mentioned, you not only turn my guts in me, but also my soul. And I request you moreover, to make account that the terme of three dayes is already expired, wherein you would have me take notice of your fol∣lies; for I declare them already for seen, and will tell wonders to my Lady; where∣fore goe write your Letter, and dispatch me with all haste; for I long already to re∣turn, and take you out of this Purgatory wherein I leave you.

Doest thou call it a Purgatory, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote? Thou had'st done better, had'st thou called it Hell; or rather worse, if there be any thing worse then that. I call it so (quoth Sancho) Quia in inferno nulla est retentio, as I have heard say.

I unddrstand not, said Don-Quixote, what retentio meaneth. Retentio (quoth Sancho) is that, whosoever is in Hell, never comes, nor can come out of it. Which shall fall out contrary in your person, or my feet shall goe ill, if I may carry spurs to quicken Rozinante: and that I may safely arrive before my Lady Dulcinea in To∣boso, for I will recount unto her such strange things of your follies and madnesse (for they be all one) that you have, and doe daily, as I will make her as soft as a Glove, although I found her at the first harder then a Cork tree: with whose sweet and hony answer, I will return in the ayre as speedily as a Witch, and take you out of this Purgatory, which is no Hell, although it seems one, seeing there is hope to escap from it; which as I have said, they want which are in hell: and I beleeve you will not contradict me herein.

Thou hast reason, answered The Knight of the illfavoured face, but how shall I write the Letter, and the warrant for the receipt of the Colts also? added Sancho. All shall bee inserted together, quoth Don-Quixote; and seeing wee have no paper, wee may doe well, imitating the ancient men of times past, to write our minde in the leaves of Trees or waxe, yet waxe is as hard to bee found here as paper. But now that I remem∣ber my selse, I know where wee may write our minde well, and more then well, to wit, in Cardinio's Tablets, and thou shalt have care to cause the letters to bee written out againe fairely, in the first Village wherein thou shalt finde a Schoole master; or if such a one bee wanting, by the Cleark of the Church; and beware in any sort that thou give it not to a Notary or Court-Clearke to bee copied, for they write such an intan∣gling-confounding processe Letter, as Satan himself would scarce bee able to reade it. And how shall wee doe for want of your name and subscription, quoth Sancho? Why answered Don-Quixote, Amadis was never wont to subscribe to his Letters. I, but the warrant to receive the three Asses must forcibly bee subsigned; and if it should af∣terward bee copied, they would say the former is false, and so I shall rest without my Colts, The Warrant shall bee written and firmed with my hand in the Tablets, which as soone as my Neece shall see, shee shall make no difficulty to deliver thee them. And as concerning the love-letter, thou shalt put this subscription to it; Yours untill death, The Knight of the ill-favored face; and it makes no matter though it bee written by any stranger; for as much as I can remember, Dulcinea can neyther write nor read, nor hath shee seene any Letter, no, not so much as a Character of my writing all the dayes of her life: For my love and hers have beene ever Platonicall, never extending them∣selves farther then to an honest regard and view the one of the other, and even this same so rarely, as I dare boldly sweare, that in these dozen yeeres which I love her more deerely then the light of these mine eyes, which the earth shall one day devour. I have not seen her four times, and perhaps of those same four times shee hath scarce perceived once that I beheld her. Such is the case and closenesse wherewithall her parents Lorenco Corcuelo and her Mother Aldonca Nogales, have brought her up. Ta, ta, quoth Sancho, that the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso is Lorenco Corcuelo his Daughter, called by another name Aldonca Loreno? The same is shee, quoth Don-Quixote, and it is shee that merits to bee Empresse of the vast Universe. I know her very well, replyed Sancho, and I dare say, that she can throw an Iron barr as well as any the strongest Lad in our Parish. I vow by the giver, that 'tis a Wench of the mark, tall and stout, and so sturdy withall, that she will bring her chinn out of the mire, in despite of any Knight Errant, or that shall err, that shall honour her as his Lady. Out upon her, what a strength and voyce shee hath? I saw her on a day stand on the topp of the Church steeple, to call certain servants of her Fathers, that laboured in a fallow field; and although they were half a league from thence, they heard her as well as if they were at the foot of the Steeple: And the best that is in her is, that shee is nothing coy; for shee hath a very great smack of Courtship, and playes with every one, and Jibes and Jests at them all. And now I affirm, Sir Knight of the Ill•• favoured face, that not only you may, and ought to commit raving follies for her sake; but eke you may with just title also despair and hang your self: For none shall hear thereof, but will say you did very well, although the Divell carried you away. And fain would I

bee gone, if it were for nothing else but to see her: for it is many a day since I saw her, and I am sure shee is changed by this; for womens beauty is much impaired by going alwaies to the field, exposed to the Sunne and weather.

And I will now, Sir Don-Quixote, confesse a truth unto you, that I have lived untill now in a marvellous errour, thinking well and faithfully that the Lady Dulcinea was some great Princesse, on whom you were enamoured, or such a person as merited those rich presents which you bestowed on her, as well of the Biscaines, as of the Slaves, and many others that ought to bee, as I suppose, correspondent to the many victories which you have gained, both now and in the time that I was not your Squire. But pondering well the matter, I cannot conceive why the Lady Aldonea Lorenco; I mean the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, of these should care whether these vanquished men which you send or shall send, doe goe and kneel before her. For it may befall, that she at the very time of their arrivall bee combing of Flax or threshing in the Barn, whereat they would be ashamed, and shee likewise laugh, and bee somewhat displeased at the present.

I have oft told thee, Sancho, many times that thou art too great a prattler, quoth Don-Quixote, and although thou hast but a grosse wit, yet now and then thy frumps nip••: But to the end thou mayest perceive the faultinesse of thy brain, and my discre∣tion, I will tell thee a short History, which is this: There was once a widow fair, young, free, rich, and withall very pleasant and jocund, that fell in Love with a cer∣tain round and well-set servent of a Colledge: his Regent came to understand it; and therefore said on a day to the Widow, by the way of fraternall correction, Mistriss, I doe greatly marvell, and not without occasion, that a woman so principall, so beau∣tifull, so rich, and specially so wittie, could make so ill a choise, as to waxe enamoured on so foul, so base, and foolish a man as such a one, we having in this house so many Masters of Art, Graduates and Divines, amongst whom you might have made choise as among Peers, saying. I will take this, and I will not have that. But shee answered him thus, with a very pleasant and good grace: You are, Sir, greatly deceived, if you deem that I have made an ill choise in such a one, let him seem never so great a fool: for to the purpose that I mean to use him, hee knows as much or rather more Philo∣sophy then Aristotle. And so, Sancho, is likewise Dulcinea of Toboso as much worth as the highest Princesse of the World, for the effect I mean to use her: For all the Poets which celebrate certain Ladies at pleasure, thinkest thou that they all had Mi∣strisses? No: Doest thou believe that the Amarillis, the Files, Silvias, Dianas, Galateas, Alcidas, and others such like, wherewithall the Books, Ditties, Barbers Shops, and Theaters are filled, were truely Ladies of flesh and bones, and their Mistrisses which have and doe celebrate them thus? No certainly, but were for the greater part ••eigned, to serve as a subject of their Verses, to the end the Authours might be ac∣counted amorous, and men of courage enough to bee such. And thus it is also suffi∣cient for me to believe and think that the good Aldonca Lorenco is fair and honest: As for her Parentage it matters but little; for none will send to take information thereof, to give to her an habit; and I make account of her as of the greatest Princesse in the World: For thou oughtest to know, Sancho, if thou knowest it not already, that two things alone incite men to love more then all things else, and those be sur∣passing beauty, and a good name: And both these things are found in Dulcinea in their prime; For none can equall her in fairnesse, and few come neer her for a good report. And for a finall conclusion, I imagine, that all that which I say, is really so, without adding or taking ought away. And I doe imagine her in my fantasie to bee such, as I could with her, as well in beauty as principality: And neither can Helen approach, nor Lucrece come neer her; no, nor any of those other famous women, Greek, Barbarous, or Latine, of foregoing ages. And let every one say what hee pleaseth; For though I should be reprehended for this by the ignorant, yet shall I not therefore be chastised by the more observant and rigorous sort of men.

I avouch, quoth Sancho, that you have great reason in all that you say, and that I am my self a very Asse, But alas! why doe I name an Asse with my mouth, seeing one

should not mention a Rope in ones house that was hanged? but give me the Letter, and farewell, for I will change. With that Don-Quixote drew out his Tablets, and going aside, began to indite his Letter with great gravity; which ended, he called Sancho to read it to him, to the end he might bear it away in memory, left by chance hee did lose the Tablets on the way, for such were his crosse fortunes, as made him fear every event. To which Sancho answered, saying, Write it there twice or thrice in the book, and give me it after; for I will carry it safely by Gods grace. For to think that I will be able ever to take it by rote, is a great folly; for my memory is so short, as I doe many times forget mine own name: But yet for all that read it to me, good Sir; for I would bee glad to hear it, as a thing which I suppose to be as excellent, as if it were cast in a mould. Hear it then, said Don-Quixote, for thus it sayes.

The Letter of DON-QUIXOTE to DULCINEA of Toboso.

Soveraign Ladie,

THE wounded by the poynt of absence, and the hurt by the Darts of thy heart, sweetest Dulcinea of Toboso, doth send thee that health which hee wanteth himself. If thy beauty disdain me; if thy valour turn not to my benefit; if thy disdains con∣vert themselves to my harm, maugre all my patience, I shall bee ill able to sustein this care; which, besides that it is violent, is also too durable. My good Squire, Sancho, will give thee certain relation, O beautifull, ingrate, and my deerest beloved enemy of the State wherein I remain for thy sake: If thou please to favour me, I am thine; and if not, doe what thou likest: For by ending of my life, I shall both satisfie thy Cruelty and my Desires.

Thine untill death, The Knight of the Illfavored face.

By my fathers life, quoth Sancho, when he heard the Letter, it is the highest thing that ever I heard. Good God •• how well doe you say every thing in it? and how excel∣lently have you applyed the subscription of The Knight of the Ill-favoured face? I say a∣gain in good earnest that you are the Divell himself, and there's nothing but you know it. All is necessary, answered Don-Quixote, for the Office that I professe. Put then (quoth Sancho) in the other side of that leafe, the Warrant of the three Colts, and firm it with a legible Letter, that they may know it at the first sight. I am pleased, said Don-Quixote; and so writing it, he read it after to Sancho, and it said thus.

YOV shall please, good Neece, for this first of Colts, to deliver unto my Squire Sancho Pança, three of the five that I left at home, and are in your charge; the which three Colts I command to bee delivered to him, for as many others counted and received here: for with this, and his acquittance, they shall bee justly delivered. Given in the bowels of Sierra Morena, the two and twentieth of August, of this present yeer.

It goes very well (quoth Sancho;) subsign it therefore, I pray you. It needs no seal (quoth Don-Quixote) but only my Rubrick, which is as valible as if it were sub∣scribed; not only for three Asses, but also for three hundred. My trust is in you, an∣swered Sancho, permit me, for I will goe saddle Rozinante, and prepare your self to give me your blessing; for I purpose presently to depart before I see any madd prank of yours; for I will say that I saw you play so many, as no more can bee desired. I will have thee stay, Sancho (and that because it is requisite) at least to see me stark naked, playing a dozen or two of raving tricks; for I will dispatch them in lesse then half an hour; because that thou having viewed them with thine own eyes, mayest safely swear all the rest that thou pleasest to add; and I assure thee, that thou canst not tell so many as I mean to perform. Let me intreat you, good Sir, that I may not see you naked, for it will turn my stomack, and I shall not bee able to keep my self from weeping; and my head is yet so sore since yester night through my lamentations, for the losse of the gray beast, as I am not strong enough yet to indure new plaints; but if your plea∣sure bee such, as I must necessarily see some follies, doe them in Ioves name in your clothes briefly, and such as are most necessary; chiefly, seeing none of these things are requisite for me: And as I have said, wee might excuse time (that shall now bee la∣vished in these trifles) to return speedily with the news you desire and deserve so much. And if not, let the ••ady Dulcinea provide her self well; for if shee answer not accor∣ding to reason, I make a solemn vow to him that I may, that I'le make her disgorge out of her stomack a good answer, with very kicks and fists: For how can it bee suffered that so famous a Knight Errant as your self should thus runn out of his wits, without, nor for what, for one? Let not the Gentlewomen constrain me to say the rest; for I will out with it, and venter all upon twelve, although it never were sold.

In good faith, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) I think thou art grown as mad as my self. I am not so mad, replyed Sancho, but I am more cholerick. But setting that aside, say, What will you eat untill my return? Doe you mean to doe as Cardenio, and take by the high-wayes side perforce from the Sheepheards? Care thou not for that, replyed Don-Quixote; for although I had it, yet would I not eat any other thing then the Hearbs and Fruits that this Field and Trees doe yield; for the perfection of mine affair consists in fasting, and the exercise of other castigations. To this Sancho replyed, Doe you know what I fear? that I shall not finde the way to you again here where I leave you, it is so difficult and obscure. Take well the marks, and I will en∣devour to keep here-about, quoth Don-Quixote, untill thou come back again; and will moreover about the time of thy return mount to the tops of these high Rocks, to see whether thou appearest: but thou shouldest doe best of all, to the end thou mayest not stay and misse me, to cut down here and there certain boughs, and strew them on the way as thou goest, untill thou beest out in the Plains, and those may after serve thee as bounds and marks, by which thou mayest again finde me when thou returnest, in imitation of the clue of Theses Labyrinth.

I will doe so, quoth Sancho, and then cutting downe certaine boughes, hee deman∣ded his Lords blessing, and departed not without teares on both sides. And mount∣ing upon Rozinante, whom Don-Quixote commended very seriously to his care, that hee should tender him as hee would his owne person, hee made on towards the Plaines, strewing here and there on the way his branches, as his Master had advised him; and with that departed, although his Lord importuned him to behold two or three follies ere hee went away: But scarce had hee gone a hundred paces, when hee returned and said, I say Sir, that you said well, that to the end I might sweare with a safe Consci∣ence that I have seene you play these mad tricks, it were necessary that at least I see you doe one, although that of your abode here, is one great enough.

Did not I tell thee so, quoth Don-Quixote? Stay Sancho, for I will doe it in the space of a Creede; and taking off with all haste his ho••e, hee remained the halfe of him maked, and did instantly give two or three jerks in the ayre, and two tumbles ove•• and over on the ground, with his head downeward, and his legs aloft, where hee dis∣covered such things, as Sancho, because he would not see them againe, turned the bri∣dle

and rode away, resting contented and satisfied that hee might sweare that his Lord was madd. And so wee will leave him travelling on his way, untill his returne, which was very soone after.