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

CHAP. III.

Wherein are rehearsed the innumerable Misfortunes which Don-Quixote and his good Squire Sancho suffered in the Inn, which hee, to his harm, thought to be a Castle.

BY this time Don-Quixote was come to himself again, out of his Trance, and with the like lamentable note, as that wherewithall he had called his Squire the day before, when he was overthrown in the vale of the Pack-staves, he called to him, saying, Friend Sancho, art thou a sleep? sleepest thou friend Sancho? What, I a sleep? I renounce my self, quoth Sancho, full of grief and despight, if I think not all the Devills in Hell have been visiting of me here this night •• Thou mayest certainly believe it, replyed Don-Quixote; for either I know very little, or else this Castle is Inchanted. For I let thee to wit; but thou must first swear to keep secret that which I mean to tell thee now, untill after my death. So I swear, quoth Sancho. I say it, quoth Don-Quixote, because I cannot abide to take away any bodies honour. Why, quoth Sancho again, I swear that I will conceale it untill after your Worships dayes; and I pray God that I may discover it to morrow. Have I wrought thee such harm Sancho, replyed the Knight, as thou wouldest desire to see me end so soon? It is not for that Sir, quoth Sancho; but because I cannot abide to keep things long, lest they should rott in my custody.

Let it be for what thou pleasest, said Don-Quixote; for I doe trust greater matters then that to thy love and courtesie. And that I may rehearse it unto thee briefly, know, that a little while since, the Lord of this Castles daughter came unto me, who is the most fair and beautifull Damzell that can be found in a great part of the earth; what could I say unto thee of the orna∣ments of her person? what of her excellent wit? what of other secret things? which that I may preserve the faith due unto my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, I passe over in silence. I will only tell thee, that Heaven envious of the inestimable good that fortune had put in my hands: Or perhaps (and that is most probable) this Castle, as I have said, is Inchanted; just at the time when we were in most sweet and amorous speech, I being not able to see or know from whence it came, there arrived a hand joyned to the arm of some mighty Gyant, and gave me such a blow on the jawes, as they remain all bathed in blood; and did after so thump and bruise me, as I feel my self worse now, then yesterday, when the Carriers, through Rozinantes madnesse, did use us thou knowest how! By which I conjecture, that the treasure of this Damzels beauty is kept by some Inchanted Moor, and is not reserved for me.

Nor for me, quoth Sancho; for I have been bumbasted by more then four hundred Moors, which have hammer need in such sort, as the bruising of the Pack-staves was gilded bread and spice cakes in comparison of it: But Sir, I pray you tell me; How can you call this

a good and rare Adventure, seeing we remain so pittifully used after it? And yet your harms may be accounted lesse, in respect you have held, as you said, that incomparable beauty between your arms: But I, what have I had other then the greatest blows that I shall ever have in my life? Unfortunate that I am, and the Mother that bare me, that neither am a errant Knight, nor ever means to be any, and yet the greatest part of our mishaps still falls to my lot! It seems that thou wast likewise beaten, replyed Don-Quixote. Evill befall my linage, quoth Sancho; have not I told you I was? Be not grieved Friend, replyed the Knight; for I will now compound the precious Balsamum, which will cure us in the twinkling of an eye.

The Officer having by this time alighted his Lamp, entred into the Room to see him whom he accounted to be dead; and as soon as Sancho saw him, seeing him come in in his shirt, his head lapt up in a kerchiff, the lamp in his hand, having withall a very evill-favoured countenance, he demanded of his Lord: Sir, is this by chance the In∣chanted Moor, that turns anew to torment us, for somewhat that is yet unpunished? He cannot be the Moor, answered Don-Quixote; for Nigromancers suffer not them∣selves to be seen by any. If they suffer not themselves to be seen, quoth Sancho, they suffer themselves at least to be felt; if not, let my shoulders bear witnesse. So might mine also, said Don-Quixote; but notwithstanding this is no sufficient argument to prove him, whom wee see to be the inchanted Moor: As thus they discoursed the Officer arrived, and finding them to commune in so peaceable and quiet manner, he rested admired. Yet Don-Quixote lay with his face upward as he had left him, and was not able to stir himself, he was so beaten and beplaistered. The Officer approach∣ing, demanded of him; Well how doest thou good fellow? I would speak more man∣nerly, quoth Don-Quixote, if I were but such a one as thou art: Is it the custome of this Countrey, you Bottle-head, to talk after so rude a manner to Knights Errant? The other impatient to see one of so vile presence, use him with that bad language, could not indure it; but lifting up the Lamp, oyle and all, gave Don-Quixote such a blow on the pate with it, as he broak his head in one or two places, and leaving all in darknesse behinde him, departed presently out of the chamber. Without doubt (quoth Sancho, seeing this accident) Sir that was the inchanted Moor; and I think he keepeth the treasure for others, and reserveth only for us fists and Lamp-blows. It is as thou sayest, quoth Don-Quixote; and therefore we are not to make account of these in∣chantments, or be worth and angry at them; for in respect they are invisible and fan∣tasticall, wee shall not finde him on whom we may take revenge, though we labour ever so much to doe it. Arise therefore, Sancho, if thou beest able, and call to the Constable of this Fortresse, and procure me some Oyle, Wine, Salt, and Vinegar, that I make the wholsome Balsamum; for verily I believe that I doe need it very much at this time, the blood runneth so fast out of the wound which the Spirit gave me even now. Sancho then got up with grief enough of his bones, and went without light to∣wards the Inn-keepers, and encountred on the way the Officer of the Holy Brother∣hood who stood hearkning what did become of his enemy; to whom he said; Sir, whosoever thou beest, I desire thee, doe us the favour and benefit to give me a little Rosemary, Oyle, Wine, and Salt, to cure one of the best Knights Errant that is in the earth, who lyeth now in that Bed, sorely wounded by the hands of an inchanted Moor that is in this Inn. When the Officer heard him speak in that manner, he held him to be out of his wits; and because the dawning began, he opened the Inn door, and told unto the Host that which Sancho demanded. The Inn-keeper presently provided all that he wanted, and Sancho carried it to his Master, who h••ld his head between both his hands, and complained much of the grief that the blow of his head caused, which did him no other hurt then to raise up two blisters somewhat great, and that which he supposed to be blood, was only the humor which the anxiety and labour of minde he past in this last dark Adventure, had made him to sweat.

In resolution Don-Quixote took his Simples, of which he made a compound, mixing them all together, and then boyling of them a good while, untill they came (as he thought) to their perfection; he asked for a Violl wherein he might lay this precious

liquor, but the Inn being unable to afford him any such, hee resolved at last to put it into [Hosa de lata] a tinne oyle-pot, which the Host did freely give him, and forth∣with hee said over the pot eighty pater nosters, and as many Aves, Salves and Creeds, and accompanied every word with a Crosse, in forme of Benediction, at all which Ceremonies Sancho, the Inne-keeper, and the Officer of the holy-Brotherhood were present, for the Carrier went very soberly to dresse and make ready his Mules.

The liquor being made, hee himselfe would presently make experience of the virtue of that precious Balsamum, as hee did imagine it to bee, and so did drinke a good draught of the overplus that could not enter into his pot, being a quart or thereabouts; and scarce had hee done it when hee began to vomit so extremly, as hee left nothing un∣cast up in his stomack, and through the paine and agitation caused by his vomits, he fell into a very abundant and great sweat, and therefore commanded himselfe to bee well covered, and left alone to take his case. Which was done forthwith, and hee slept three houres, and then awaking found himselfe so wonderfully eased, and free from all brui∣sing and paine, as hee doubted not but that hee was throughtly whole; and therefore did verily perswade himself, that hee had hapned on the right manner of compounding the Balsamum of Fierabras: and that having that Medicine, hee might boldly from thenceforth, undertake any ruines, battailes, conflicts or adventures, how dangerous soever.

Sancho Panca, who likewise attributed the suddain cure of his Master to Miracle, re∣quested that it would please him to give him leave to sup up the remainder of the Balsa∣mum which rested in the kettle, and was no small quantity; which Don-Quixote grant∣ed, and hee lifting it up between both hands, did with a good faith, and better talent, quaff it off all, being little lesse then his Master had dranke. The successe then of the History is, that poore Sanchoes stomack was not so delicate as his Lords, wherefore be∣fore hee could cast hee was tormented with so many cruell pangs, loathings, sweats and dismayes, as hee did verily perswade himself that his last houre was come; and percei∣ving himself to bee so afflicted and troubled, hee cursed the Balsamum, and the theefe which had given it to him. Don-Quixote seeing of him in that pittifull taking, said, I beleeve Sancho, all this evill befalleth thee because thou art not dubbed Knight; for I perswade my selfe, that this liquor cannot helpe any one that is not. If your worship knew that, quoth Sancho, (evill befall me and all my linage) why did you therfore consent that I should taste it?

In this time the drench had made his operation, and the poore Squire did so swift and vehemently discharge himself by both channels; as neither his ma••, or canvase co∣vering could serve after to any use. Hee sweat and sweat again, with such excessive swoonings, as not only himselfe, but likewise all the beholders did verily deeme that his life was ending. This storme and mishap endured about some two houres, after which hee remained not cured as his Master, but so weary and indisposed, as he was not able to stand.

But Don-Quixote, who as wee have said, felt himself eased and cured, would pre∣sently depart to seek Adventures, it seeming unto him that all the time which he abode there was no other then a depriving both of the world and needfull People of his favour and assistance: and more through the security and confidence that hee had in his Bal∣samum; and carried thus away by this desire, hee himselfe sadled his Horse Rozinante, and did empannell his Squires beast, whom hee likewise holpe to apparell himself, and to mount upon his Asse. And presently getting a horse-back, hee rode over to a cor∣ner of the Inne, and laid hand on a Javelin that was there, to make it serve him instead of a Launce. All the People that were in the Inn stood beholding him, which were a∣bout twenty in number.

The In-keepers daughter did also looke upon him, and hee did never withdraw his eye from her, and would ever and anon breathe forth so dolefull a sigh, as if hee had plucked it out of the bottom of his heart, which all the beholders tooke to proceede from the grief of his Ribs, but especially such as had seen him playstered the night be∣fore.

And being both mounted thus a Horse-back, he called the Inn keeper and said unto him with a grave and staid voyce.

Many and great are the favours, Sir Consta∣ble which I have received in this your Castle, and doe remain most oblieged to gra∣tifie you for them, all the dayes of my life. And if I may pay or recompence them by revenging of you upon any proud Miscreant that hath done you any wrongs; know that it is mine Office to help the weak, to revenge the wronged, and to chastise Traytors. Call therefore to memory, and if you finde any thing of this kinde to commend to my correction, you need not but once to say it; for I doe promise you by the order of Knighthood, which I have received to satisfie and appay you accor∣ding to your own desire.

The Inn-keeper answered him again with like gravity and staidnesse, saying; Sir Knight, I shall not need your assistance when any wrong is done to me; for I know very well my self, how to take the revenge that I shall think good, when the injury is offered. That only which I require is, That you defray the charges whereat you have been here in the Inn this night, as well for the straw and barley given to your two horses, as also for both your beds. This then is an Inn, quoth Don-Quixote. That it is, and an honourable one too, replyed the Inn-keeper. Then have I hitherto lived in an errour, quoth Don-Quixote; for in very good sooth I took it till now to be a Castle, and that no mean one neither. But since that it is no Castle, but an Inn, that which you may doe for the present time is, to forgive me those expences; for I cannot doe ought against the custome of Knights Errant; of all which I most certainly know (without ever having read untill this present any thing to the contrary) that they never payed for their lodging, or other thing, in any Inn wheresoever they lay. For, by all Law and right, any good entertainment that is given unto them, is their due, in recom∣pence of the insupportable travells they indure, seeking of Adventures both day and night, in Summer and Winter, a foot & a horse-back, with thirst and hunger, in heat and cold, being subject to all the distemperatures of Heaven, and all the discommodities of the earth. All that concerns me nothing, replyed the Innkeeper; pay unto me my due, and leave these tales and Knighthoods apart; for I care for nothing else, but how I may come by mine own. Thou art a mad and a bad Host, quoth Don-Quixote: And saying so, he spur'd Rozinante, and flourishing with his Javelin, he issued out of the Inn in despight of them all, and without looking behinde him to see once whether his Squire followed, he road a good way off from it.

The Inn-keeper seeing he departed without satisfying him, came to Sancho Panca to get his mony of him, who answered; That since his Lord would not pay, he would likewise give nothing; forbeing, as he was, Squire to a Knight Errant, the very same rule and reason that exempted his Master from payments in Inns and Taverns ought also to serve and be understood as well of him. The Inn-keeper grew wroth at these words and threatned him, That if he did not pay him speedily, he would recover it in manner that would grieve him. Sancho replyed, swearing by the Order of Knighthood, which his Lord had received, that he would not pay one Denier, though it cost him his life; for the good and anncient Customes of Knights Errant should never through his default be infringed; nor should their Squires which are yet to come into the world ever complain on him, or upbraid him for transgressing or breaking so just a duety. But his bad fortune ordeined that there were at the very time in the same Inn four Clothiers of Segovia, and three Poynt-makers of the Stews of Cordova, and two neighbours of the Market of Sivill, all pleasant folk, well minded, malicious, and playsome; all which pricked, and in a manner moved all at one time, and by the very same spirit came neer to Sancho, and pulling him down off his Asse, one of them ran in for the Inn∣keepers Coverlet, and casting him into it, they looked up, and seeing the house was somewhat too low for their intended businesse, they determined to goe into the base Court, which was over head, only limitted by Heaven; and then Sancho being laid in the midest of the Blanket, they began to tosse him aloft, and sport themselves with him, in the manner they were wont to use Dogs at Shrovetide.

The out-cries of the miserable betossed Squire, were so many and so lowd, as they

arived at last to his Lords hearing, who standing a while to listen attentively what it was, beleved that some new Adventure did approach, untill hee perceived, at last, that hee which cried was his Squire, wherefore turning the Reignes, hee made towards the Inne with a loathsome gallop, and finding it shut, hee rode all about it to see whether hee might enter into it, But scarce was hee arived at the walles of the base Court. which were not very high, when hee perceived the foule play that was used toward his Squire, for hee saw him descend and ascend into the ayre againe with such grace and agilitie, that did his choller permit, I certainly perswade my selfe hee would have burst for laughter. Hee assayed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mount the wall from his Horse, but hee was so bruised and broken, as hee could not doe so much as alight from his back. Wherefore from his back hee used such reproachfull and vile language to those which tossed Sancho, as it is impossible to lay them downe in writing. And notwithstanding all his scorne∣full speech, yet did not they cease from their laughter and labour; nor the flying Sancho from his complaints, now and then medled with threats, now and then with intreaties, but availed very little, nor could prevaile, untill they were constrained by wearinesse to give him over. Then did they bring him his Asse againe, and helping him up upon it, they lapt him in his [Gavay] mantle; and the compassionate Maritornes beholding him so afflicted and orelaboured, thought it needfull to helpe him to a draught of wa∣ter, and so brought it him from the well, because the water thereof was coolest. San∣cho tooke the pot, and laying it to his lips, hee abstained from drinking by his Lords perswasion, who cryed to him alowd, saying, Sonne Sancho drinke not water, drinke it not Sonne, for it will kill thee. Behold I have here with mee the most holy Balsa∣mum (and shewed him the oyle-pot of the drenches hee had compounded) for with only two drops that thou drinkest, thou shalt without all doubt remaine whole and sound. At those words Sancho looking behinde him, answered his Master with a low∣der voice, have you forgotten so soone how that I am so Knight, or doe you desire that I vomit the remnant of the poore bowels that remaine in mee since yester night, keepe your liquor for your selfe in the Devills name, and permit mee to live in Peace; and the conclusion of this speech and his beginning to drinke, was done all in one in∣stant, but finding at the first draught that it was water, hee would not taste it any more but requested Maritornes that shee would give him some Wine, which shee did streight with a very good will, and likewise paid for it out of her owne purse; for in effect it is written of her, that though shee followed that trade, yet had shee some shadowes and lineaments in her of Christianity. As soone as Sancho had drunken hee visited his As••e∣ribs with his heeles twice or thrice; and the Inne being opened hee issued out of it, ve∣ry glad that hee had paid nothing, and gotten his desire, although it were to the cost of his ordinary sureties, to wit, his shoulders. Yet did the Inne-keeper remaine pos∣sessed of his Wallets, as a payment for that hee ought him •• but Sancho was so distracted when hee departed as hee never missed them. After hee departed, the Inne-keeper thought to have shut up the Inne doore againe, but the Gentlemen-tossers would not permit, being such folke that if Don-Quixote were verily one of the Knights of the round Table, yet would not they esteem him two chips.