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

THE Delightfull Historie of the most Wittie Knight DON-QUIXOTE of the Mancha. (Book 4)

The fourth Part. (Book 4)

CHAP. I.

Wherein is discoursed the new and pleasant Adventure that hapned to the Curate and the Barber, in Sierra Morena.

MOST happy and fortunate were those times wherein the thrice∣audacious and bold Knight, Don-Quixote of the Mancha, was bestowed on the World; by whose most Honourable resolution to ruine and renew in it the already worne out, and well-nigh diseased Exercise of Armes wee joy in this our so niggard and scant an age of all Pastimes, not only the sweetnesse of his true Historie, but also of the other Tales and digressions contained therein, which are in some respects lesse pleasing, artificiall and true then the very History it self: The which prosecuting the carded, spun, and self-twined thread of the relation sayes, that as the Curate began to bethink himself upon some answer that might both comfort and animate Cardenio, hee was hindred by a voyce which came to his hearing, said very dolefully the words ensuing.

O God! is it possible that I have yet found out the place which may serve for a hidden Sup••lchre•• to the load of this loathsome bodie that I unwillingly bear so long? Yes it may bee, if the solitarinesse of these Rocks doe not illude me an•• unfortunate that I am. How much more gratefull companions will these Craggs and Thickets prove to my designes, by affording me leisure to communicate my mis-haps to Heaven with Plaints, then that if any mortall man living, since there is none upon earth from whom may be expected counsell in doubts, ease in complaints, or in harmes remedie? The Curate and his companions heard and understood all the words cleerly: and for as much as they conjectured (as indeed it was) that those Plaints were delivered very neer unto them, they did all arise to search out the Plaintiff; and having gone some twenty steps thence, they beheld a young Youth behinde a Rock, sitting under an Ash-Tree, and attyred like a Country Swain, whom by reason his face was inclined, as hee sate washing of his feet in the clear stream that glided that way, they could not perfectly dis∣cern; and therefore approached towards him with so great silence, as they were not dis∣cryed by him, who only attended to the washing of his feet, which were to white, as they

properly resembled two pieces of cleer Crystall, that grew among the other stones of the stream: The whitenesse and beauty of the feet amazed them, being not made as they well conjectured, to tread clodds, or measure the steps of lazie Oxen, and holding the Plough, as the youths apparell would perswade them; and therefore the Curate, who went before the rest, seeing they were not yet espyed, made signes to the other two that they should divert a little out of the way, or hide themselves behinde some broken cliffts that were neer the place, which they did all of them, nothing what the Youth did with very great attention. Hee wore a little brown Capouch, gyrt very neer to his body with a white Towell, also a pair of Breeches and Gamashoes of the same coloured cloth, and on his head a clay-coloured Cap: his Gamashoes were lifted up half the legg, which verily seemed to bee white Alablaster. Finally having washed his feet, taking out a linnen Kerchif from under his Cap, hee dryed them therewithall, and at the taking out of the Kerchif hee held up his face, and then those which stood gazing on him had leizure to discern an unmatchable beauty, so surpassing great, as Cardenio rounding the Curate in the eare, said, This bodie, since it is not Luscinda, can bee no humane creature, but a divine. The Youth took off his Cap at last, and shaking his head to the one and other part, did dis••evell and discover such beautifull hairs, as those of Phoebus might justly emulate them; and thereby they knew the supposed Swain to bee a delicate woman, yea, and the fairest that ever the first two had seen in their lives, or Cardenio himself, the lovely Luscinda excepted; for, as hee after affirmed, no feature save Luscinda's could contend with hers. The long and golden hairs did not only cover her shoulders, but did also hide her round about in such sort, as (her feet exceped) no other part of her body appeared, they were so neer and long. At this time her hands served her for a Combe, which as her feet seemed pieces of Crystall in the water, so did they appear among her hair•• like pieces of driven Snow. All which circumstances did possesse the three which stood gazing at her with great admiration and desire to know what shee was; and therefore resolved to shew themselves; and with the noyse which they made when they arose the beautifull Mayden held up her head, and remove∣ing her hair•• from before her eyes with both hands, she espyed those that had made it, and presently arising full of fear and trouble, shee laid hand on a p••cket that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by her, which seemed to bee of apparell, and thought to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 away without ••••••ying to pul•• on her shooes, or to gather up her hair: But scarce had shee gone ••span delicate and tender feet, unable to abide the rough incounter of the stones made her to fall to the earth; which the three perceiving, they came out to her, and the curate ar∣riving first of all, said to her, Ladie, whatsoever you be stay and fear nothing; for we which you behold here come only with intention to doe you service, and therefore you need not pretend so impertinent a flight, which neither your feet can indure, nor would wee permit.

The poor Gyrl remained so amazed and confounded, as shee answered not a word: wherefore the Curate and the rest drawing neerer, they took her by the hand, and then hee prosecuted his Speech saying, What your habit concealed from us, Ladie, your hairs have bewrayed, being manifest arguments that the causes were of no small moment which have thus bemasked your singular beauty, under so unworthy array, and condu∣cted you to this all-abandoned Desart, wherein it was a wonderfull chance to have m••••, you, if not to remedie your harmes, yet at least to give you some comfort, seeing no evill can afflict and ve••e one so much, and plunge him in so deep extream•• (whilest it deprives not the life) that will wholly abhor from listening to the advice that is offered with a good and sincere intention; so that fair Lady, or Lord, or what else you shall please to bee tea••med, shake off your affrightment, and rehearse unto us your good or ill fortune; for you shall finde in us joyntly, or in every one part, companions to help you to deplore your disasters.

Whilest the Curate made this Speech, the disguised woman stood as one half asleep, now beholding the one, now the other, without once moving her lip or saying a word; just like a rusticall Clown, when rare and unseen things to him before, are unexpectedly presented to his view.

But the Curate insisting and using other perswasive reasons, addrest to that effect, won her at last to make a breach on her tedions silence, and with a profound sigh blow open her corral gates, saying somwhat to this effect: Since the solitarinesse of these Rocks hath not beene potent to conceale mee, nor the disheveling of my disordered haires, licensed my tongue to belie my sexe, it were in vaine for mee to feigne that a new, which if you beleeved it, would bee more for courtesies sake then any other respect. Which presupposed, I say good Sirs, that I doe gratifie you highly, for the liberall of∣fers you have made me, which are such as have bound me to satisfie your demand as neer as I may; although I feare the relation which I must make to you of my mishaps, will breed sorrow, at once, with compassion in you, by reason you shall not bee able to finde any salve that may cure, comfort or begui••e them: yet notwithstanding, to the end my reputation may not hover longer suspended in your opinions, seeing you know mee to bee a woman, and view mee young, alone, and thus attyred, being things all of them able, eyther joyned or parted, to overthrow the best credit; I must bee enfor∣ced to unfold what I could otherwise most willingly conceale. All this, shee that ap∣peared so comely, spoke without stop or staggering, with so ready delivery, and so sweete a voice, as her discretion admired them no lesse then her beauty. And renewing againe their complements and intreaties to her, to accomplish speedily her promise, she setting all coynesse apart, drawing on her shoes very modestly, and winding up her hayre, late her downe on a stone, and the other three about her, where shee used no little violence to smother certaine rebellious teares that strove to breake forth without her permission, and then with a reposed and cleare voice she began the History of her life in this manner.

In this Province of Audaluzia there is a certaine towne from whence a Duke derives his denomination, which makes him one of those in Spayne are called Grandees: Hee hath two sonnes, the elder is Heire of his States, and likewise, as may bee presumed, of his virtues, the younger is Heire I know not of what, if hee bee not of V••llido [one that murdered Sancho King of Castil••, as hee was easing himselfe as the siege of Cam••ra.] his treacheries of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 frauds. My parents are this noblemans vassals, of humble and low calling, but so rich, as if the goods of nature had equalled those of their fortunes: then should they have had nothing else to desire, nor I feared to see my selfe in the mis∣fortunes wherein I now am plunged. For perhaps my mis-haps proceede from that of theirs, in not being nobly discended. True it is, that they are not so base, as they should therefore shame their calling, nor so high as may check my conceit, which per∣swades mee that my disasters preceede from their lownesse. In conclusion, They are but Farmers and plaine People but without any touch or spot of bad blood, and as wee usually say, Olde rustie Christians, yet so rustie and ancient, as yet their riches and ma∣gnificent port, gained them, by little and little, the title of Gentilltie; yea and of worship also; although the Treasure and Nobility, whereof they made most price and account, was to have had mee for their daughter; and therefore, as well by reason that they had none other He•••• then my selfe, as also because as affectionate Parents, they held mee most deere; I was one of the most made of and cherished daughters that ever father brought 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I was the mirrour wherein they beheld themselves, the staffe of their old age, and the subject to which they addrest all their desires. From which because they were most virtuous, mine did not stray an inch, and even in the same man∣ner that I was Ladie of their mindes, so was I also of their goods. By mee were Ser∣vants admitted or dismissed; the notice and account of what was sowed or reaped, past thorow my hands, of the Oyle-mills, the Wine-presses, the number of great and little Cattell, the Bee-hives: In fine, of all that which so rich a Farmer as my father was, had 〈◊〉〈◊〉 could have, I kept the account, and was the Steward thereof and Mistrisse, with such care of my side, and pleasure of theirs, as I cannot possibly indeere it enough. The times of leisure that I had in the day, after I had given what was necessary to the head Ser∣vants, and other labourers, I did entertaine in those exercises which were both commen∣dable and requisite for Maydens, to wit, in Sowing, making of Bone lace, and many times handling the Distasse: and if sometimes I left those exercises to recreate my mind

a little, I would then take some godly booke in hand, or play on the Harpe; for expe∣rience had taught mee that Musick ordereth disordered mindes, and doth lighten the passions that afflict the Spirit.

This was the life which I led in my fathers house, the recounting whereof so particu∣larly, hath not beene done for ostentation, nor to give you to understand that I am rich, but to the end you may note how much, without mine owne fault, have I fall'n from that happy state I have said, unto the unhappy plight into which I am now redu∣ced. The Historie therefore is this, that passing my life in so many occupations, and that with such recollection as might bee compared to a religious life, unseen as I thought by any other person then those of our house; for when I went to Masse, it was common∣ly so early, and so accompanied by my Mother and other Mayd-servants, and I my selfe so cover'd and watchfull, as mine eyes did scarce see the earth whereon I trod: and yet notwithstanding those of love, or as I may better terme them, of idlenesse, to which Lynxes eyes may not bee compared, did represent mee to Don Ferdinandoes affection and care, for this is the name of the Dukes younger sonne, of whom I spake before. Scarce had shee named Don Ferdinando, when Cardenio changed colour, and began to sweate, with such alteration of Bodie and Countenance, as the Curate and Barber which beheld it, feared that the accident of frenzie did assault him, which was wont (as they had heard) to possesse him at times. But Cardenio did nothing else then sweat, and stood still beholding now and then the country gyrle, imagining straight what she was, who without taking notice of his alteration, followed on her discourse in this manner: And scarce had•• hee seene mee, when (as hee himselfe after confest) hee abode greatly surprized by my love, as his actions did after give evident demonst••ation.

But to conclude, soone the relation of those misfortunes which have no conclusion, I will over-slip in silence the diligences and practices of Don Ferdinando, used to de∣clare unto me his affection: he suborned all the folk of the house. He bestowed gifts and favours on my parents: every day was a holy-day, and a day of sports in the streets where I dwelled; At night no man could sleep for Musick; The Letters were innumerable that came to my hands, without knowing who brought them, farsed too full of amorous conceits and offers, and containing more promises and protestations then characters: All which not only could not molifie my minde, but rather hardened it as much if hee were my mortall enemie, and therefore did construe all the indeavours hee used to gain my good will to bee practised to a contrary end; which I did not as accounting Don Fernando ungentle, or that I estemed him too importan••••; for I took a kinde of delight to see my self so highly esteemed and beloved so Noble a Gentleman; nor was I any thing offended to see his papers written in my praise; for, if I bee not deceived in this poynt, be women ever so foul, wee love to hear men call us beautifull. But mine honesty was that which opposed it self unto all these things, and the continuall admonishions of my Parents, which had by this plainly perceived Don Fernando's pretence, as one that cared not all the World should know••t: They would often say unto me, that they had deposited their honours and reputation in my virtue alone and discretion, and bade me consider the inequality that was between Don Fernando and me, and that I might collect by it how his thoug•••• (did he ever so much affirm the contrary) were more addrest to compasse his pleasure•• the•• my profit: And that if I feared any inconveniencie might befall, to the end they might crosse it, and cause him to abandon his so unjust a pursuit, they would match me where I most liked either to the best of that Town or any other Town adjoyning, saying, they might easily compasse it, both by reason of their great wealth and my good report. I fortified my resolution and integrity with these certain promises and the known truth which they told me; and therefore would never answer to Don Fernando any word that might ever so farr off argue the least hope of condiscending to his desires: All which ca••tion•• of mine which I think he deemed to be disdains, did inflame more his lascivious appetite (for this is the name wherewithall I intitle his affection towards me) which had it been such as it ought, you had not known it now, for then the cause of revealing it had not befaln me. Finally, Don Fernando understanding how my parents meant to marrie me,

to the end they might make void his hope of ever possessing me: or at least set more guards to preserve mine honour, and this news or surmize was an occasion that he did what you shall presently hear.

For one night as I sate in my Chamber, only attended by a young Mayden that served me, I having shut the doors very safe, for fear left through any negligence my honesty might incur any danger, without knowing or imagining how it might happen•• notwithstanding all my dilligences used and preventions, and amid'st the solitude of this silence and recollection he stood before me in my Chamber: At his presence I was so troubled, as I lost both sight and speech; and by reason thereof could not crie, nor I think he would not, though I had attempted it, permit me: For he presently ranne over to me, and taking me between his armes (for, as I have said, I was so amazed, as I had no power to defend my self) he spake such things to me, as I know not how it is possible that so many lies should have ability to fain things resembling in shew so much the truth; and the Traytor caused tears, to give credit to his words; and sighs, to give countenance to his intention.

I, poor soul, being alone amid'st my friends and weakly practised in such affairs, began, I know not how, to account his leasings for verities, but not in such sort as his tears or sighs might any wise move me to any compassion that were not commenda∣ble. And so the first trouble and amazement of minde being past, I began again to re∣cover my defective Spirits, and then said to him with more courage then I thought I should have had; if, as I am my Lord, between your armes, I were between the paws of a fierce Lyon, and that I were made certain of my Libertie, on condition to doe or say any thing prejudiciall to mine honour, it would prove as impossible for me to ac∣cept it, as for that which once hath been to leave off his essence and being: Wherefore even as you have in-gyrt my middle with your armes, so likewise have I tyed fast my minde with virtuous and forcible desires that are wholy different from yours, as you shall perceive, if seeking to force me, you presume to passe further with your inordinate designe: I am your Vassall, but not your Slave; nor hath the nobility of your blood power, nor ought it to harden, to dishonour, stain, or hold in little account the humi∣litie of mine; and I doe esteem my self, though a Countrey-Wench and Farmers Daughter, as much as you can your self, though a Noble-man and a Lord; With me your violence shall not prevail, your riches gain any grace, your words have power to deceive, or your fighs and tears bee able to move; yet if I shall finde any of these pro∣perties mentioned in him whom my Parent shall please to be••••ow on me for my Spouse, I will presently subject my will to his, nor shall it ever varie from his minde a jot; So that if I might remain with honour, although I rested void of delights, yet would I willingly bestow on you that which you presently labour so much to obtain; all which I doe say, to divert your straying thought from ever thinking that any one may obtain of me ought, who is not my lawfull Spouse. If the let only consists therein, most beau∣tifull Dorotea (for so I am called) answered the disloyall Lord; behold, I give thee here my hand to bee thine alone; and let the Heavens, from which nothing is con∣cealed, and this Image of our Lady, which thou hast here present, be witnesses of this truth.

When Cardenio heard her say that she was called Dorotea hee fell again into his for∣mer suspicion, and in the end confirmed his first opinion to be true; but would not interrupt her speech, being desirous to know the successe, which hee knew wholly al∣most before, and therefore said only, Lady, is it possible that you are named Dorotea? I have heard report of another of that name, which perhaps hath runne the like course of your misfortunes; but I request you to continue your Relation, for a time may come wherein I may recount unto you things of the same kinde, which will breede no small admiration. Dorotea noted Cardenioes words, and his uncouth and disastrous at∣tyre, and then intreated him very instantly, if hee knew any thing of her affaires, hee would acquaint her therewithall, For if fortune had left her any good, it was only the courage which shee had to beare patiently any disaster that might befall her, being cer∣taine in her opinion, that no new one could arive, which might increase a whit those she had already.

Ladie, I would not let slip the occasion (quoth Cardenio) to tell you what I thinke, if that which I imagine were true: and yet there is no commoditie l••ft to doe it, nor can it availe you much to know it: Let it bee what it list, said Dorotea, but that which after befell of my relation was this: That Don Fernando tooke an Image that was in my Chamber for witnesse of our Contract, and added withall most forcible words and unusuall oathes, promising unto mee to become my husband: Although I warned him before hee had ended his speech, to see well•• what hee did, and to weigh the wrath of his father, when hee should see him married to one so base, and his Vassall, and that therefore hee should take heede that my beauty (such as it was) should not blinde him, seeing hee should not finde therein a sufficient excuse for his errour, and that if hee meant to doe mee any good, I conjured him by the love that hee bore unto mee, to li∣cense my fortunes to roule in their owne spheere, according as my qualitie reached: For such unequall matches doe never please long, nor persevere with that delight where∣withall they begun.

All the reasons here rehearsed I said unto him, and many more which now are falne out of minde, but yet proved of no efficacy to weane him from his obstinate purpose; even like unto one that goeth to buy, with intention never to pay for what hee takes, and therefore never considers the price, worth, or defect of the stuffe hee takes co cre∣dit. I at this season made a briefe discourse, and said thus to my selfe, I may doe this, for I am not the first which by Matrimony hath ascended from a low degree to a high e∣state: not shall Don Fernando bee the first whom beautie or blind affection (for that is the most certaine) hath induced to make choice of a Consort equall to his Greatness. Then since herein I create no new world, nor custome, what error can bee committed by embracing the honour wherewithall fortune crownes mee: Although it so befell, that his affection to mee endured no longer then till he accomplisht his will: for be∣fore God, I certes shall still remaine his wife. And if I should disdainfully give him the repulse, I see him now in such termes, as perhaps forgetting the dutie of a Nobleman, hee may use violence, and then shall I remaine for ever dishonoured, and also without excuse of the imputations of the ignorant, which knew not how much without any fault I have faln into this inevitable danger. For, what reasons may bee sufficiently for∣cible to perswade my father and other, that this Nobleman did enter into my Chamber without my consent? All these demands and Answeres did I in an instant revolve in mine imagination, and found my selfe chiefly forced (how I cannot tell) to assent to his Petition, by the witnesses hee invoked, the teares hee shed, and finally by his sweete disposition and comely feature, which accompanied with so many arguments of unfai∣ned affection, were able to conquer and enthrall any other heart, though it were as free and wary as mine own. Then called I for my waiting-maid, that shee might on earth accompany the coelestiall witnesses.

And then Don Fernando turned again to reiterate and confirme his oathes, and added to his former, other new Saints as witnesses, and wished a thousand succeeding male∣dictions to light on him, if hee did not accomplish his promise to mee. His eyes againe waxed moist, his sighes increased, and himselfe inwreathed mee more streightly between his armes, from which hee had never once loosed mee: and with this, and my May∣dens departure, I left to bee a Mayden, and hee began to bee a Traytor and a disloyall man. The day that succeeded to the night of my mishaps came not (I think) so soon as Don Fernando desired it; for after a man hath satisfied that which the appetite covets, the greatest delight it can take after, is to apart it selfe from the place where the desire was accomplished. I say this because Don Fernando did hasten his departure from mee, by my maids industrie, who was the very same that had brought him into my Chamber, hee was got in the street before dawning. And at his departure from mee hee said (al∣though) not with so great shew of affection and vehemency as hee had used at his com∣ing) that I might bee secure of his faith, and that his oathes were firme and most true; and for a more confirmation of his word, hee tooke a rich Ring off his finger and put it on mine. In fine hee departed, and I remayned behinde, I cannot well say whether joy∣full or sad; but this much I know, that I rested confused and pensive, and almost be∣side

my self for the late mischance; yet either I had not the heart, or else I forgot to chide my Maid for her treacherie committed by shutting up Don Fernando in my Cham∣ber; for as yet I could not determine, whether that which had befaln me, was a good or an evill.

I said to Don Fernando at his departure, that he might see me other nights when hee pleased, by the same means he had come that night, seeing I was his own, and would rest so, untill it pleased him to let the world know that I was his wife. But hee never returned again, but the next night following could I see him after, for the space of a moneth either in the street or Church, so as I did but spend time in vain to expect him; although I understood that he was still in Town and rode every other day a hunting, an Exercise to which he was much addicted.

Those dayes were, I know, unfortunate and accursed to me, and those hours sor∣rowfull; for in them I began to doubt, nay rather wholly to discredit Don Fernando's faith; and my maid did then hear loudly the checks I gave unto her for her presumption, ever untill then dissembled: And I was moreover constrained to watch and keep guard on my tears and countenance, lest I should give occasion to my Parents to demand of me the cause of my discontents, and thereby ingage me to use ambages or untruths to cover them. But all this ended in an instant, one moment ariving whereon all these respects stumbled, all honourable discourses ended, patience was lost, and my most hidden secrets issued in publique; which was when there was spread a certain rumour throughout the Town within a few dayes after, that Don Fernando had married in a Cit∣ty neer adjoyning a Damzell of surpassing beauty, and of very Noble birth, although not so rich as could deserve, by her preferment or dowrie, so worthie a husband: it was also said that shee was named Luscinda, with many other things that hapned at their Spousals worthy of admiration. Cardenio hearing Luscinda named did nothing else but lift up his shoulders, bite his lip, bend his brows, and after a little while shed from his eyes two floods of tears. But yet for all that Dorotea did not interrupt the file of her History, saying, This dolefull news came to my hearing, and my heart, instead of freezing thereat, was so inflamed with choler and rage, as I had well-nigh run out to the streets, and with out-cries published the Deceit and Treason that was done to me; but my furie was presently asswaged by the resolution which I made to doe what I put in execution the very same night, and then I put on this habit which you see, being given unto me by one of those that among us Country-folk are called Swains, who was my fathers servant; to whom I disclosed all my misfortunes, and requested him to accom∣panie me to the Citie where I understood my enemie sojourned, He, after he had re∣prehended my boldnesse, perceiving me to have an inflexible resolution, made offer to attend on me, as he said, unto the end of the world: And presently after I trussed up in a pillow-bear a womans attire, some Money and Jewels, to prevent necessities that might befall; and in the silence of night, without acquainting my treacherous maid with my purpose, I issued out of my house, accompanied by my servant and many imagi∣nations: and in that manner set on towards the Citie, and though I went on foot, was yet born away flying by my desires, to come, if not time enough to hinder that which was past, yet at least to demand of Don Fernando that he would tell me with what con∣science or soul he had done it. I arrived where I wished within two dayes and a half; and at the entry of the City I demanded where Luscinda her father dwelled? and he of whom I first demanded the question answered me more then I desired to hear; hee shewed me the house, and recounted to me all that befell at the daughters marriage, being a thing so publique and known in the City, as men made meetings of purpose to discourse thereof.

Hee said to me, that the very night wherein Don Fernando was espoused to Luscinda, after she had given her consent to be his wife, she was instantly assailed by a terrible accident that struck her into a Trance; and her Spouse approaching to unclapse her bosome that shee might take the aire, found a paper folded in it, written with Luscinda's own hand, wherein she said and declared, that shee could not be Don Fernando's wife, be∣cause she was already Cardenio's, who was, as the man told me, a very principall Gentle∣man

man of the same Citie; and that if shee had given her consent to Don Fernando, it was only done, because shee would not disobey her Parents; in conclusion hee told mee, that the paper made also mention, how shee had a resolution to kill her selfe presently after the marriage, and did also lay downe therein the motives shee had to doe it; all which, as they say, was confirmed by a Ponyard that was found hidden about her, in her apparell. Which Don Fernando perceiving, presuming that Luscinda did flout him, and hold him in little account, hee set upon her ere shee was come to her selfe, and attemp∣ted to kill her with the very same Ponyard; and had done it, if her father and other friends which were present, had not opposed themselves and hindred his determination. Moreover, they reported that presently after Don Fernando absented himselfe from the Citie, and that Luscinda turned not out of her agonie untill the next day, and then re∣counted to her parents how shee was verily Spouse to that Cardenio of whom wee spake even now. I learned besides, that Cardenio, as it is rumor'd, was present at the mar∣riage, and that as soone as hee saw her married, being a thing hee would never have cre∣dited, departed out of the Citty in a desperate moode, but first left behinde him a letter, wherein hee shewed at large the wrong Luscinda had done to him, and that hee himself meant to goe to some place where people should never after hear of him. All this was notorious, and publiquely bruited thorowout the Citty, and every one spoke thereof, but most of all having very soone after understood that Luscinda was mis∣sing from her Parents house and the Citie, for shee could not bee found in neyther of both, for which her parents were almost beside themselves, not knowing what meanes to use to finde her.

These news reduced my hopes againe to their ranks, and I esteemed it better to finde Don Fernando unmarried then married, persuming that yet the gates of my remedy were not wholly shut, I giving my selfe to understand that heaven had peradventure set that impediment on the second marriage, to make him understand what hee ought to the first; and to remember how hee was a Christian, and that hee was more oblieged to his Soule then to humane respects. I revolved all these things in my minde, and comfort∣lesse did yet comfort my selfe, by fayning large, yet languishing, hopes, to sustain that life which I now doe so much abhor. And whilest I stayed thus in the Citie, ignorant what I might doe, seeing I found not Don Fernando, I heard a Cryer goe about pub∣liquely, promising great rewards to any one that could finde mee out, giving signes of the very age and apparell I wore: And I likewise heard it was bruited abroad, that the Youth which came with mee, had caried mee away from my fathers house. A thing that touched my soule very neerely, to view my credit so greatly wrak't, seeing that it was not sufficient to have lost it by my coming away, without the addition of him with whom I departed, being a subject so base and unworthy of my loftier thoughts. Ha∣ving heard this crie, I departed out of the Citie with my servant; who even then began to give tokens that he faultred in the fidelity hee had promised to me; and both of us together entred the very same night into the most hidden parts of this Mountain, fearing lest we might be found. But as it is commonly said, That one evill calls on another, and that the end of one disaster is the beginning of a greater, so proved it with me; for my good servant, untill then faithfull and trustie, rather incited by his own Villainy then my Beauty, thought to have taken the benefit of the oportunity which these inhabi∣table places offered, and sollicited me of Love, with little shame and lesse fear of God, or respect of my self: And now seeing that I answered his impudencies with severe and reprehensive words, leaving the intreaties aside wherewithall he thought first to have compast his will, he began to use his force: But just Heaven, which seldome or never neglects the just mans assistance, did so favour my proceedings, as with my weak forces and very little labour I threw him down a ••••eep Rock, and there I left him, I know not whether alive or dead: And presently I entred in among these Mountains, with more swiftnesse then my fear and wearinesse required, having therein no other project or designe then to hide my self in them, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my father and others, which by his intreaty and means sought for me every where.

Some moneths are past since my first comming here, where I found a Heard-man,

who carried me to a Village seated in the midest of these Rocks, wherein hee dwelled, and entertained me, whom I have served as a Sheepheard ever since, procuring as much as lay in me, to abide stil in the field, to cover these hairs which have now so unexpectedly betraid me: Yet all my care and industry aviled not, seeing my Master came at last to the notice that I was no man, but a woman, which was an occasion that the like evill thought sprung in him, as before in my servant: And as fortune gives not alwais re∣medie for the difficulties which occur, I found neither Rock nor downfall to cool and cure my Masters infirmitie, as I had done for my man; and therefore I accounted it a lesse inconvenience to depart thence, and hide my self again among these Desarts, then to adventure the tryall of my strength or reason with him: Therefore, as I say, I turned to imbosk my self, and search out some place, where, without any encumbrance, I might intreat Heaven with my sighs and tears, to have compassion on my mis-hap, and lend me industry and favour, either to issue fortunately out of it, or else to die amid'st these solitudes, not leaving any memory of a wretch, who hath ministred matter, although not through her own default, that men may speak and murmur of her, both in her own and in other Countries.

CHAP. II.

Which treats of the Discretion of the Beautifull Dorotea, and the artificiall manner used to disswade the amorous Knight from con∣tinuing his penance; And how hee was gotten away; with many other delightfull Occurrences.

THis is, Sirs, the true relation of my Tragedie; see therefore now and judge, whether the sighs you heard, the words to which you listened, and the tears that gushed out at mine eyes, have not had sufficient occasion to appear in greater abundance: and having considered the quality of my disgrace, you shall perceive all comfort to be vain, seeing the remedie thereof is impossible: Only I will request at your hands one favour, which you ought and may easily grant, and is, That you will addresse me unto some place, where I may live secure from the fear and suspicion I have to be found by those which I know doe dayly travell in my pursuit: for although I am sure that my Parents great affection toward me doth warrant me to be kindely received and entertained by them; yet the shame is so great that possesseth me, only to think that I shall not return to their presence in that state which they ex∣pect, as I account it far better to banish my self from their sight for ever, then once to behold their face with the least suspicion that they again would behold mine, divorced from that honestie which whilom my modest behaviour promised. Here shee ended, and her face suddainly over-run by a lovely scarlet, perspicuously denoted the feeling and bashfullnesse of her soul.

The audients of her sad storie, felt great motions both of pittie and admiration, for her misfortunes: and although the Curate thought to comfort and counsell her forth∣with, yet was hee prevented by Cardenio, who taking her first by the hand, said at last; Ladie, thou art the beautifull Dorotea, daughter unto rich Cleonardo. Dorotea rested admired when shee heard her fathers name, and saw of how little value he seemed who had named him; for we have already recounted how raggedly Cardenio was clothed; and therefore shee said unto him, And who art thou, friend, that knowest so well my fathers name; for untill this hour (if I have not forgotten my self) I did not once name him throughout the whole discourse of my unfortunate Tale? I am (answered

Cardenio the unluckie Knight, whom Luscinda (as thou saidst) affirmed to bee her hus∣band. I am the disastrous Cardenio, whom the wicked proceeding of him that hath also brought thee to those termes wherein thou art, hath conducted mee to the state in which I am, and thou maist behold ragged, naked, abandoned by all humane comfort; and what is worse, void of sense; seeing I only enjoy it but at some few short times, and that, when heaven pleaseth to lend it mee. I am hee Dorotea, that was present at Don Fernandoes unreasonable wedding, and that heard the consent which Luscinda gave him to bee his wife. I was hee that had not the courage to stay and see the end of her trance, or what became of the paper found in her bosome; for my soule had not po∣wer or sufferance to behold so many misfortunes at once, and therefore abandoned the place and my patience together, and only left a Letter with mine Host, whom I intrea∣ted to deliver it into Luscinda her owne hands, and then came into these Desarts, with resolution to end in them my miserable life, which since that houre I have hated as my most mortall Enemie: But Fortune hath not pleased to deprive mee of it, thinking it sufficient to have impaired my wit, perhaps reserving me for the good successe befaln mee now in finding of your selfe; for that being true (as I beleeve it is) which you have here discoursed, peradventure it may have reserved yet better hap for us both in our dis∣asters then wee expect.

For presupposing that Luscinda cannot marry with Don Fernando, because shee is mine, nor Don Fernando with her because yours; and that shee hath declared so mani∣festly the same, wee may well hope that heaven hath meanes to restore to every one that which is his owne, seeing it yet consists in being not made away or annihilated. And seeing this comfor remaines, not sprung from any very remote hope, nor founded on idle surmises, I request thee faire Lady, to take another resolution in thine honourable thought, seeing I meane to doe it in mine, and let us accomodate our selves to expect better successe: For I doe vow unto thee by the faith of a Gentleman and Christian, not to forsake thee, untill I see thee in Don Fernandoes possession, and when I shall not by reasons bee able to induce him to acknowledge how far hee rests indebted to thee then will I use the liberty granted to mee as a Gentleman, and with just title challenge him to the field, in respect of the wrong hee hath done unto thee; forgetting wholly mine owne injuries, whose revenge I will leave to Heaven, that I may be able to right yours on earth.

Dorotea rested wonderfully admired, having knowne and heard Cardenio, and igno∣ring what competent thanks shee might returne him in satisfaction of his large offers, shee cast her selfe downe at his feete to have kissed them, which Cardenio would not per∣mit; and the Licentiat answered for both, praysing greatly Cardenioes discourse; and chiefly intreated, prayed and counselled them, that they would goe with him to his Village, where they might fit themselves with such things as they wanted, and also take order how to search out Don Fernando, or carie Dorotea to her fathers house, or doe else what they deemed most convenient. Cardenio and Dorotea gratified his courtesies, and accepted the favour hee profferred. The Barbar also, who had stood all the while silent and suspended, made them a pretty discourse, with as friendly an offer of himselfe, and his service as Master Curate; and likewise did brieflie relate the occasion of their com∣ming thither, with the extravagant kinde of madnesse which Don-Quixote had, and how they expected now his Squires returne, whom they had sent to search for him. Cardenio having heard him named, remembred presently, as in a dreame, the conflict past betweene them both, and recounted it unto them, but could not in any wise call to mind the occasion thereof.

By this time they heard one call for them, and knew by the voice, that it was Sancho Panchaes, who because hee found them not in the place where hee had left them, cry∣ed out for them as lowdly as hee might. They went to meete him, and demanding for Don-Quixote, hee answered, that hee found him all naked to his shyrt, leane, yellow, almost dead for hunger, and sighing for his Lady Dulcinea; and although he had told him, how shee commanded him to repayre presently to Toboso, where shee expected him, yet notwithstanding hee answered, That hee was determined never to appeare be∣fore

her Beautie, untill hee had done Feats that should make him worthy of her gracious favour. And then the Squire affirmed if that humour passed on any farther, hee fear∣ed his Lord would bee in danger never to become an Emperour, as hee was bound in honour, no, nor a Cardinall, which was the least that could be expected of him.

The Licentiat bid him bee of good cheer, for they would bring him from thence whether he would or no; and recounted to Cardenio and Dorotea, what they had be∣thought for Don-Quixotes remedie, or at least for the carrying him home to his house. To that Dorotea answered, that shee would counterfeit the distressed Ladie better then the Barber, and chiefly seeing she had apparrel wherewithall to act it most naturally: And therefore desired them to leave to her charge the representing of all that which should bee needfull for the atchieving of their Designe; for shee had read many books of Knighthood, and knew well the stile that distressed Damzels used, when they reque∣sted any favour of Knights Adventurous. And then need we nothing else, quoth the Curate, but only to put our purpose presently in execution: For questionlesse good successe turns on our side, seeing it hath so unexpectedly begun already to open the gates of your remedy, and hath also facilitated for us that whereof we had most necessity in this exigent. Dorotea took forthwith out of her Pillow-bear a whole Gown of very rich stuff, and a short Mantle of another green stuff, and a Collar and many other rich Jewels out of a Boxe, wherewithall she adorned her self in a trice so gorgeously, as shee seemed a very rich and goodly Ladie: All which, and much more, shee had brought with her, as shee said, from her house, to prevent what might happen, but never had any use of them untill then. Her grace, gesture, and beauty liked them all extreamly, and made them account Don Fernando to bee a man of little understanding, seeing hee contemned such feature. But hee which was most of all admired was Sancho Panca, because, as hee thought (and it was so indeed) that hee had not in all the dayes of his life before seen so fair a creature; and he requested the Curate very seriously, to tell him who that beautifull Ladie was? and what shee sought among those thorow∣fares? This fair Lady, friend Sancho, answered the Curate, is (as if a man said nothing shee is so great) Heir apparent by direct line of the mighty Kingdome of Micomicon, and comes in the search of your Lord, to demand a boon of him, which is, that hee will destroy and undoe a great wrong done unto her by a wicked Gyant; and through the great fame which is spread over all Guinea of your Lords prowesse, this Princesse is come to finde him out. A happy searcher, and a fortunate finding, quoth Sancho! and chiefly, if my Master bee so happy as to right that injury and redresse that wrong by killing that, ô the mighty Lubber of a Gyant, whom you say! yes, hee will kill him, I am very certain, if hee can once but meet him, and if hee bee not a Spirit; for my Master hath no kinde of power over Spirits. But I must request one favour of you, among others most earnestly, good Master Licentiat, and it is, That to the end my Lord may not take an humbur of becoming a Cardinall, which is the thing I fear most in this world) that you will give him counsell to marry this Princesse presently, and by that means hee shal remain incapable of the dignity of a Cardinall, and will come very easily by his Empire, and I to the end of my desires; for I have thought well of the matter, and have found, that it is in no wise expedient that my Lord should become a Cardinall; for I am wholy unfit for any Ecclesiasticall dignity, seeing I am a married man: And therefore to trouble my self now with seeking of dispensations to enjoy Church livings, having, as I have, both wife and children, were never to end: So that all my good consists, in that my Lord doe marry this Princesse instantly, whose name yet I know not; and therefore I have not said it. Shee is hight (quoth the Curate) the Princesse Micomicona: for her Kingdome being called Micomicon, it is evident shee must be termed so.

That is questionlesse, quoth Sancho; for I have known many to take their deno∣mination and surname from the place of their birth, calling themselves Peter of Al∣cala, Iohn of Vbeda, and Iames of Valedolid; and perhaps in Guinea Princes and Queens use the same custome, and call themselves by the names of their Pro∣vinces.

So I thinke quoth the Curate; and as touching your Masters marriage with her, I will labour therein as much as lies in my power. Wherewithall Sancho remained as well sa∣tisfied, as the Curate admired at his simplicitie, and to see how firmly hee had fixed in his fantasie the very ravings of his Master, seeing hee did beleeve without doubt that his Lord should become an Emperour. Dorotea in this space had gotten upon the Curates Mule, and the Barber had somwhat better fitted the beard which hee made of the Oxes tayle on his face, and did after intreat Sancho to guide them to the place where Don-Quixote was, and advertised him withall, that hee should in no wise take any notice of the Curate or Barber, or confesse in any sort that hee knew them, for therein consisted all the meanes of bringing Don-Quixote to the minde to become an Emperour. Yet Cardenio would not goe with them, fearing lest thereby Don-Quixote might call to minde their contention; and the Curate thinking also that his presence was not expedi∣ent•• remayned with him, letting the others goe before, and these followed a far off fayre and softlie on foote, and ere they departed, the Curate instructed Dorotea anew, what shee should say, who bid him to feare nothing for shee would dis∣charge her part to his satisfaction, and as Bookes of Chivalrie required and laid downe.

They travelled about three quarters of a league, as they espied the Knight, and at last they discovered him among a number of intricate Rocks, all apparelled, but not armed, and as soone as Dorotea beheld him, shee struck her Palfrey, her well-bearded Barber following her; and as they approached Don-Quixote, the Barber leaped lightly downe from his Mule and ran towards Dorotea to take her downe betweene his armes, who alighting went with a very good grace towards Don-Quixote, and kneeled before him. And although hee strived to make her arise, yet shee remayning still on her knees, spake to him in this manner: I will not arise from hence, thrice valorous and appro∣ved Knight, untill your bountie and courtesie shall grant unto mee one Boone, which shall much redound unto your honour and prize of your Person, and to the profit of the most disconsolate and wronged Damzell that the Sunne hath ever seene. And if it bee so, that the valour of your invincible Arme bee correspondent to the bruite of your immortall same, you are obliged to succour this comfortlesse Wight, that comes from lands so remote, to the sound of your famous name, searching you for to remedy her mis-haps.

I will not answere you a word, faire Lady, quoth Don-Quixote, nor heare a jot of your affaire, untill you arise from the ground. I will not get up from hence, my Lord, quoth the afflicted Lady, if first, of your wonted bountie, you doe not grant to my re∣quest. I doe give and grant it, said Don-Quixote, so that it bee not a thing that may turn to the dammage or hindrance of my King, my Country, or of her that keeps the key of my Heart and Liberty. It shall not turn to the dammage or hindrance of those you have said, good Sir, replied the dolorous Damzel: and as shee was saying this Sancho Panca rounded his Lord in the eare, saying softly to him, Sir, you may very well grant the request she asketh, for it is a matter of nothing, it is only to kill a mon∣strous Gyant, and she that demands it is the mightie Princesse Micomicona Queen of the great Kingdome of Micomicon in Ethiopia. Let her bee what shee will, quoth Don-Quixote, for I will accomplish what I am bound, and my conscience shall inform me comformable to the State I have professed. And then turning to the Damzell, hee said, Let your great beauty arise; for I grant to you any boon which you shall please to ask of me. Why then, quoth the Damzell, that which I demand is, That your mag∣nanimous person come presently away with me, to the place where I shall carry you; and doe likewise make me a promise, not to undertake any other Adventure or de∣mand, untill you revenge me upon a Traytor, who hath, against all Laws both Divine and Humane, usurped my Kingdome. I say that I grant you all that, quoth Don-Quixote; and therefore, Lady, you may cast away from this day forward all the Me∣lancholy that troubles you, and labour that your languishing and dismaied hopes may recover again new strength and courage; for by the help of God, and that of mine arme, you shall see your self shortly restored to your Kingdome, and enthronized in

the Chair of your ancient and great Estate, in despite and maugre the Traytors that shall dare gainsay it: and therefore hands to the work; for they say that danger alwayes follows delay. The distressed Damzell strove with much adoe to kisse his hand. But Don-Quixote, who was a most accomplished Knight for courtesie, would never condescend thereunto; but making her arise, hee imbraced her with great kindnesse and respect; and commanded Sancho to saddle Rozinante, and help him to Arme himself.

Sancho took down the Armes forthwith, which hung on a Tree like Trophies, and searching the Gyrts, armed his Lord in a moment; who seeing himself Armed, said, Let us in Gods name, depart from hence to assist this great Lady. The Barber kneeled all this while, and could with much adoe dissemble his laughter, or keep on his Beard that threatned still to fall off; with whose fall perhaps, they should all have remained with∣out bringing their good purpose to passe: And seeing the boon was granted, and noted the dilligence wherewithall Don-Quixote made himself ready to depart and accom∣plish the same: hee arose and took his Ladie by the hand; and both of them together holp her upon her Mule; and presently after Don-Quixote leaped on Rozinante, and the Barber got on his Beast, Sancho only remaining a foot; where he afresh renewed the me∣mory of the losse of his gray Asse, with the want procured to him thereby. But all this hee bore with very great patience, because hee supposed that his Lord was now in the way, and next degree to bee an Emperour; for he made an infallible account that hee would marry that Princesse, and at least bee King of Micomicon: But yet it grieved him to think how that Kingdome was in the Country of black Moors; and that there∣fore the Nation which should bee given to him for his Vassals should be all black: For which difficultie his imagination coyned presently a good remedie; and hee discoursed with himself in this manner. Why should I care though my Subjects be all black Moors? is there any more to be done then to load them in a Ship and bring them into Spain, where I may sell them, and receive the price of them in ready mony? and with that money may I buy some Title or Office, wherein I may after live at mine ease all the dayes of my life. No! but sleep, and have no wit nor abilitie to dispose of things; and to sell thirty or ten thousand Vassals in the space that one would say, give me those straws. I will dispatch them all; they shall ••lie the little with the great, or as I can best con∣trive the matter: And bee they ever so black, I will transform them into white or yellow ones: come neer and see whether I cannot suck well my fingers ends. And thus hee travailed so solicitous and glad, as hee quite forgot his pain of travailing a foot. Cardenio and the Curate stood in the mean timebeholding all that passed from behinde some Brambles, where they lay lu••king, and were in doubt what means to use to issue and joyn in company with them. But the Curate, who was an ingenious and prompt plotter, devised instantly what was to bee done, that they might attain their desire: Thus hee took out of his case a pair of Shears, and cut off Cardenio's Beard therewithall in a trice, and then gave unto him to wear a riding Capouch which hee himself had on, and a black Cloak; and himself walked in a Doublet and Hose: Car∣denio, thus attired, looked so unlik that he was before, as he would not have known himself in a Looking-glasse. This being finished, and the others gone on before whilest they disguised themselves, they sallied out with facilitie to the high way before Don-Quixote or his company; for the Rocks and many other bad passages did not permit those that were a horse-back to make so speedie an end of their Journey, as they: and having thorowly past the Mountain, they expected at the foot ••hereof for the Knight and his company, who when he appeared, the Curate looked on him very earnestly for a great space, with inkling that he began to know him: And after hee had a good while beheld him, hee ran towards him with his armes spread abroad, saying, In a good houre bee the mirrour of all Knighthood found, and my noble country man Don-Quixote of the Mancha; the flower and cream of Gentility; the shadow and remedie of the affli∣cted; and the Quintescence of Knights Errant•• and saying this, he held Don-Quixote his left thigh embraced. Who, admiring at that which hee heard that man to say and doe, did also review him with attention, and finally knew him; and all amazed to see

him, made much adoe to alight; but the Curate would not permit him; wherefore Don-Quixote said, Good Master Licentiat permit me to alight; for it is in no sort decent that I bee a horse-back, and so reverend a person as you goe on foot. I will never consent thereunto, quoth the Curate, your highnesse must needs stay on horse-back, seeing that thereon you are accustomed to archieve the greatest feats of Chivalry and Adventures which were ever seen in our age. For it shall suffice me, who am an un∣worthy Priest, to get up behinde some one of these other Gentlemen that ride in your company, if they will not take it in bad part; yes, and I will make account that I ride on Pegasas, or the Zebra [A strange Beast of Affirick that travails very swiftly] of the famous Moor Muzaraque, who lies yet inchanted in the steep Rock of Culema, neer unto Alcala of Henares.

Truely I did not think upon it, good Master Licentiat, answered Don-Quixote; yet I presume my Lady the Princesse will bee well appaid for my sake to command her Squire to lend you the use of his saddle, and to get up himself on the crupper, if so it bee that the Beast will bear double. Yes that it will, said the Princesse, for ought I know; and likewise I am sure it will not bee necessary to command my Squire to alight, for hee is of himself so courteous and courtly, as hee will in no wise con∣descend that an Ecclesiasticall man should goe on foot, when hee may help him to a horse.

That is most certain, quoth the Barber: and saying so he alighted, and intreated the Curate to take the saddle; to which courtesie he did easily condescend. But by evill fortune, as the Barber thought to leap up behinde him, the Mule which was in effect a hired one (and that is sufficient to say it was unhappy) did lift a little her hinder quarters, and bestowed two or three flings on the aire, which had they hit on Master Nicholas his breast or p••te, hee would have bequeathed the quest of Don-Quixote upon the Divell: But notwithstanding the Barber was so affrighted, as hee fell on the ground with so little heed of his beard, as it fell quite off, and lay spread upon the ground; and perceiving himself without it, he ehad no other shift, but to cover his face with both his hands, and complain, that all his cheek-teeth were strucken out. Don-Quixote beholding such a great sheaf of a beard faln away, without jaw or blood, from the face, he said; I vow this is one of the greatest miracles that ever I saw in my life; it hath taken and pluckt away his beard as smoothly as if it were done of purpose. The Curate beholding the danger which their invention was like to incur, if it were de∣tected, went forthwith, and taking up the beard, came to Master Nicholas that lay still playing, and with one push bringing his head towards his own breast, he set it on again, murmuring the while over him certain words, which he said were a certain prayer ap∣propriated to the setting on of faln beards, as they should soon perceive: And so ha∣ving set it on handsomely, the Squire remained as well bearded and whole as ever he was in his life: Whereat Don-Quixote rested marvellously admired, and requested the Curate to teach him that prayer when they were at leisure: For hee supposed that the virtue thereof extended it self farther then to the fastning on of beards, since it was manifest that the place whence the beard was torne must have remained without flesh, wounded and ill dight; and seeing it cured all, it must of force serve for more then the beard. It is true, replyed Master Curate; and then promised to instruct him with the secret, with the first oportunity that was presented.

Then they agreed that the Curate should ride first on the Mule, and after him the other two, each one by turns, untill they arived to the Inn, which was about some two leagues thence. Three being thus mounted, to wit, Don-Quixote, the Princesse, and Curate; and the other three on foot, Cardenio, the Barber, and Sancho Panca. Don-Quixote said to the Damzell; Madam! let me intreat your Highnesse to lead me the way that most pleaseth you. And before she could answer, the Licenciat said, To∣wards what Kingdome would you travail? is it by fortune towards that of Mico∣micon? I suppose it should be thitherwards, or else I know but little of Kingdoms. She, who knew very well the Curates meaning, and was her self no Babe, answered, saying, Yes Sir, my way lies towards that Kingdome. If it be so, quoth the Curate,

you must passe through the Village where I dwell, and from thence direct your course twards Cartagena, where you may luckily embarke your selves. And if you have a prosperous winde, and a quiet and calme Sea, you may come within the space of nine yeeres to the sight of the Lake Meona, I meane Meolidas, which stands on this side of your highnesse Kingdome some hundred dayes journey or more. I take you to bee de∣ceived good Sir quoth shee, for it is not yet fully two yeeres since I departed from thence, and truly I never almost had any faire weather, and yet notwithstanding I have arived and come to see that which I so much longed for, to wit, the presence of the worthie Don-Quixote of the Mancha, whose renowne came to my notice as soone as I touched the earth of Spayne with my foote, and moved mee to search for him, to commend my self to his courtesie, and commit the Justice of my cause to the valour of his invincible Arme.

No more quoth Don-Quixote, I cannot abide to heare my selfe praysed; for I am a sworne enemy of all adulation: And although this bee not such, yet notwithstanding the like Discourses doe offend my chaste eares. What I can say to you faire Princesse is; that whether I have valour or not, that which I have or have not shall bee imployed in your service, even to the very losse of my life. And so omitting that till this time, let me intreat good Master Licentiat to tell mee the occasion which hath brought him here to these quarters so alone, without attendants, and so sleightly attyred, as it strikes mee in no little admiration? To this I will answere with brevitic quoth the Curate; You shall understand that Master Nicolas the Barber, our very good friend, and my self, tra∣velled towards Sivill, to recover certaine summes of money which a kinsman of mine, who hath dwelt these many yeeres in the Indies hath sent unto mee; the summe is not a little one, for it surmounted seventy thousand Rials of eight, all of good weight, see if it was not a rich gift; and passing yesterday through this way, wee were set upon by foure Robbers which dispoyled us of all, even to our very beards, and that in such sort, as the Barber was forced to set on a counterfeit one, and this young man that goeth here with us (meaning Cardenio) was transformed by them anew: & the best of it is, that it is publickly bruited about all this commark, that those which surprized us were Gally-slaves who were set at liberty, as is reported, much about this same place, by so valiant a Knight as in despight of the Commissary and the guard hee freed them all. And questionlesse hee either was wood, or else as great a knave as themselves, or some one that wanted both Soule and Conscience, seeing hee let slip the Wolves amidst the Sheepe, the Foxe among the Hens, and Files hard by Honey, and did frustrate Justice, rebell against his naturall Lord and King; for hee did so by oppugning his just commandements, and hath deprived the Gallies of their feet, and set all the Holy brotherhood in an uproare, which hath reposed these many yeeres past. And finally would doe an Act, by which hee should lose his Soule, and yet not gaine his Bodie. Sancho had rehearsed to the Curate and Barbar the Adventure of the Slaves, which his Lord had accomplished with such glorie; and therefore the Curate did use this vehemencie as hee repeated it, to see what Don-Quixote would say or doe, whose colour changed at every word, and durst not confesse that hee was himselfe the deliverer of that good People: and these quoth the Curate, were they that have robbed us: And God of his infinite Mercy pardon him who hindred their going to receive the punishment they had so well deserved.

CHAP. III.

Of many pleasant Discourses passed betweene Don-Quixote and those of his Companie, after hee had abandoned the rigorous place of his Penance.

SCARCE had the Curate finished his speech throughly, when Sancho said, By my faith, Master Licentiate, hee that did that feate, was my Lord, and that not for want of warning, for I told him beforehand, and advised him that hee should see well what hee did, and that it was a sinne to deliver them, because they were all sent to the Gallies for very great Villanies they had played.

You Bottlehead, replyed Don-Quixote, hearing him speak, it concerneth not Knights Errant to examine whether the afflicted, the inchained, and oppressed, which they encounter by the way, bee carried in that fashion, or are plunged in that distresse, through their owne default or disgrace, but only are oblieged to assist them as need••e and oppressed, setting their eyes upon their paines, and not on their crimes. I met with a Rosarie or beades of inserted People, sorrowfull and unfortunate, and I did for them that which my Religion exacts: as for the rest, let them verifie it elsewhere, and to whosoever else, the holy dignitie and honourable Person of Master Licentiat excep∣ted, it shall seeme evill: I say hee knowes but sleightly what belongs to Chivalry; and hee lies like a Whores-son and a Villain borne, and this will I make him know with the broad side of my Sword. These words hee said, setling himselfe in his Stirrops, and addressing his Murrion (for the Barbers-Bason, which hee accounted to bee Mam∣brin••es Helmet, hee carried hanging at the pummell of his saddle, untill hee might have it repayred of the crazings the Gally-slave had wrought in it.) Dorotea, who was very discreete and pleasant, and that was by this well acquainted with Don-Quixotes faultie humor, and saw all the rest make a jest of him, Sancho Panca excepted, would also shew her conceit to bee as good as some others, and therefore said unto him, Sir Knight remember you selfe of the Boone you have promised unto mee, whereunto conforming your selfe, you cannot intermeddle in any other Adventure, bee it ever so urgent. Therefore asswage your stomack, for if Master Licentiate had knowne that the Gally∣slaves were delivered by your invincible Arme, hee would rather have given unto him∣selfe three blowes on the mouth, and also bit his tongue thrice then have spoken any word whence might result your indignation. That I dare sweare, quoth the Curate, yea and besides torn away one of my Mustachoes.

Maddame said Don-Quixote, I will hold my peace, and suppresse the just Choler already inkindled in my brest, and will ride quietly and peaceably, untill I have accom∣plished the thing I have promised; and I request you in recompence of this my good desire, if it bee not displeasing to you, to tell mee your grievance, and how many, which, and what the Persons bee, of whom I must take due, sufficient, and entyre re∣venge? I will promptly performe your Will herein, answered Dorotea, if it will not bee irksome to you to listen to disasters. In no sort good Maddam said Don-Quixote. To which Dorotea answered thus, Bee then attentive to my Relation. Scarce had shee said so, when Cardenio and the Barbar came by her side, desirous to heare how the dis∣creete Dorotea would faine her tale: and the same did Sancho, which was as much de∣ceived in her person as his Lord Don-Quixote; and shee after dressing her selfe well in the Saddle, bethought and provided her selfe whil'st she coughed and used other ge∣stures, and then began to speak on this manner.

First of all, good Sirs, I would have you note that I am called; And here shee stood

uspended a while by reason shee had forgotten the name that the Curate had given unto her; but hee presently occur'd to her succour, understanding the cause, and said; it is no wonder great Lady, that you bee troubled and stagger whil'st you recount your misfortunes, seeing it is the ordinary custome of Disasters to deprive those whom they torment, and distract their memorie in such sort, as they cannot remember them∣selves even of their owne very names; as now it proves done in your Highnesse, which forgets it selfe, that you are called the Princesse Micomicona, lawfull inheretrix of the great Kingdome of Micomicon: And with this Note, you may easily reduce into your dolefull Memory all that which you shall please to rehearse.

It is very true (quoth the Damzell) and from henceforth I thinke it will not bee needfull to prompt mee any more, for I will arive into a safe Port, with the Narra∣tion of my authentique History: which is, that my father, who was called the wise I∣macrio, was very expert in that which was called art Magick, and hee knew by his Sci∣ence, that my Mother who was called Queene Xaramilla, should die before hee decea∣sed, and that hee should also passe from this life within a while after, and leave mee an Orphan: but hee was wont to say, how that did not afflict his minde so much, as that hee was very certaine, that a huge Giant, Lord of a great Island neere unto my King∣dome, called Pandafilando of the duskie sight; because, although his Eyes stood in their right places, yet doe they still looke a squint, which hee doth to terrifie the beholders: I say that my Father knew that this Giant, when hee should heare of his death, would passe with a maine power into my Land and deprive mee thereof, not leaving mee the least Village wherein I might hide my head. Yet might all this bee excused, it I would marry with him; but as hee found out by his Science, hee knew I would never condis∣cend thereunto, or incline mine affection to so unequall a Marriage. And herein hee said nothing but truth: for it never past once my thought to espouse that Giant, nor with any other, were hee ever so unreasonable, and great and mighty. My Father like∣wise added then, that after his death, I should see Land••filando usurpe my Kingdome, and that I should in no wise stand to my defence, for that would prove my destruction: but leaving to him the Kingdome freely without troubles, if I meant to excuse mine owne death, and the totall ruine of my good and loyall Subjects: for it would be im∣possible to defend my self from the divellish force of the Gyant; I should presently direct my course towards Spain, where I should finde a redresse of my harmes, by in∣countring with a Knight Errant, whose fame should extend it self much about that time thorowout that Kingdome, and his name should be, if I forget not my self, Don Acote or Don Gigote.

Ladie, you would say Don-Quixote, quoth Sancho Panca, or as he is called by ano∣ther name, The Knight of the Ill-favoured face. You have reason, replyed Dorotea: hee said moreover, that he should be high of stature, have a withered face; and that on the right side, a little under the left shoulder or thereabouts, he should have a tawny spot with certain hairs like to bristles. Don-Quixote hearing this said to his Squire, Hold my horse here Sonne Sancho, and help me to take off mine apparrell; for I will see whether I be the Knight of whom the wise King hath prophesied. Why would you now put off your clothes, quoth Dorotea? To see whether I have that spot which your father mentioned, answered Don-Quixote. You need not undoe your apparrell for that purpose, said Sancho, for I know already that you have a spot with the tokens she named, on the very ridges of your back, and argues you to be a very strong man. That is sufficient, quoth Dorotea: for we must not look too neer, or be over-curious in our friends affairs; and whether it be on the shoulder or ridge of the back, it im∣ports but little; for the substance consists only in having such a mark, and not, where∣soever it shall be, seeing all is one and the self-same flesh; and doubtlesly my good father did aim well at all; and I likewise in commending my self to Don-Quixote: for surely he is the man of whom my father spoke, seeing the signes of his face agree with those of the great renown that is spread abroad of this Knight, not only in Spain, but also in Aethiopia: for I had no sooner landed in Osuna, when I heard so many of his prowesses recounted, as my minde gave me presently that he was the man in whose

search I travailed. But how did you land in Osuna, good Madam, quoth Don-Quixote, seeing it is no Sea Town? Marrie, Sir, quoth the Curate, anticipating Dorotea's an∣swer; the Princesse would say that after she had landed in Malaga, but the first place wherein she heard tidings of you was at Osuna. So I would have said, quoth Dorotea. And it may be very well, quoth the Curate; and I desire your Majestie to continue your discourse. There needs no farther continuation, quoth Dorotea, but that finally my Fortune hath been so favourable in finding of Don-Quixote, as I doe already hold and account my self for Queen and Lady of all mine Estate, seeing that he, of his wonted bountie and mignificence, hath promised me the boon, to accompanie me wheresoever I shall guide him, which shall be to none other place, then to set him before Pandafi∣lando of the duskie fight, to the end you may slay him, and restore me to that which he hath so wrongfully usurped; for all will succeed in the twinkling of an eye, as the wise Tinacrio my good father hath already foretold; who said moreover, and also left it written in Chaldaicall or Greek charactars (for I cannot read them) that if the Knight of the Prophecie, after having beheaded the Gyant, would take me to wife, that I should in no sort refuse him, but instantly admit him for my Spouse, make him at once possessor of my self and my Kingdome.

What thinkest thou of this, friend Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, then, when he heard her say so? How likest thou this poynt? Did not I tell thee thus much before? See now, whether we have not a Kingdome to command, and a Queen whom we may marry, I swear as much, quoth Sancho, a pox on the knave that will not marry as soon as Master Pundahilado his winde-pipes are cut. Mount then, and see whether the Queen be ill or no: I would to God all the Fleas of my bed were turned to be such. And saying so, he gave two or three friskles in the air, with very great signes of con∣tentment, and presently went to Dorotea; and taking her Mule by the bridle, he with∣held it, and laying himself down on his knees before her, requested her very submissively to give him her hands to kisse them, in signe that he received her for his Queen and Ladie. Which of the beholders could abstain from laughter, perceiving the Masters madnesse and the Servants simplicity? To be brief, Dorotea must needs give them unto him, and promised to make him a great Lord in her Kingdome, when Heaven became so propitious to her, as to let her once recover and possesse it peaceably. And Sancho returned her thanks, with such words as made them all laugh anew.

This is my Historie, noble Sirs, quoth Dorotea, whereof only rests untold, That none of all the Train which I brought out of my Kingdome to attend on me, is now extant but this well-bearded Squire; for all of them were drowned in a great storm that over-took us in the very sight of Harbor, whence he and I escaped and came to land by the help of two planks, on which we laid hold almost by miracle, as also the whole discourse and mistery of my life seems none other then a miracle, as you might have noted: And if in any part of the relation I have exceeded, or not observed a due decorum, you must impute it to that which Master Licentiat said to the first of my History, that continuall pains and afflictions of minde deprives them that suffer the like of their memory. That shall not hinder me (O high and valourous Ladie) quoth Don-Quixote, from enduring as many as I shall suffer in your service, be they never so great or difficult: And therefore I doe now ratifie and confirm the promise I have made, and doe swear to goe with you to the end of the world, untill I finde out your fierce enemy, whose proud head I mean to slice off by the help of God and my valorous arme, with the edge of this (I will not say a good) Sword; thanks be to Gines of Passa∣monte which took away mine own: this he said murmuring to himself, and then pro∣secuted saying, And after I have cut it off, and left you peaceably in the possession of your state, it shall rest in your own will to dispose of your person as you like best. For as long as I shall have my memory possessed, and my will captived, and my understand∣ing yeelded to her, I will say no more; it is not possible that ever I may induce my self to marry any other although she were a Phoenix.

That which Don-Quixote had said last of all, of not marrying, disliked Sancho so much, as lifting his voyce with great anger, he said; I vow and swear by my self, that

you are not in your right wits, Sir Don-Quixote; for how is it possible that you can call the matter, of contracting so high a Princesse as this is, in doubt? Doe you think that Fortune will offer you at every corners end the like hap of this which is now proffer∣ed? is my Lady Dulcinea perhaps more beautifull? No certainly! nor half so fair: nay I am rather about to say, that shee comes not to her shoe that is here present.

In an ill hour shall I arrive to possesse that unfortunate Earldome which I expect, if you goe thus seeking for Mushrubs at the bottome of the Sea: Marry, marry your self presently; the Divell take you for me, and take that Kingdome comes into your hands, and being a King, make me presently a Marquesse or Admirall, and instantly after let the Divell take all if hee pleaseth. Don-Quixote, who heard such blasphemies spoken against his Lady Dulcinea, could not bear them any longer: and therefore lift∣ing up his Javeling without speaking any word to Sancho, gave him therewithall two such blows, as he over-threw him to the earth: and had not Dorotea cried to him, to hold his hand, he had doubtlesly slain him in the place.

Thinkest thou (quoth he after a while) base Peasant, that I shall have alwaies leisure and disposition to thrust my hand into my pouch, and that there be nothing else but thou erring, and I pardoning? And doest not thou think of it (excommunicated Rascall) for certainly thou art excommunicated, seeing thou hast talked so broadly of the peerlesse Dulcinea? And doest not thou know, base Slave, Vagabond, that if it were not for the valour shee infuseth into mine arme, that I should not have sufficient forces to kill a Flea? Say, scoffer with the Vipers tongue, who doest thou think hath gained this Kingdome, and cut the head of this Gyant, and made thee a Marquesse (for I give all this for done already, and for a matter ended and judged) but the worths and valour of Dulcinea, using mine arme as the instrument of her act? She fights under my person, and overcomes in me: And I live and breath in her, and from her I hold my life and being. O whorson Villain, how ungratefull art thou, that seest thy self ex∣alted out from the dust of the earth, to be a Noble-man; and yet doest repay so great a benefit with detracting the person that bestowed it on thee?

Sancho was not so sore hurt, but that he could hear all his Masters reasons very well: wherefore arising somewhat hastily, hee ran behinde Doretea her Palfray, and from thence said to his Lord, Tell me Sir, if you be not determined to marry with this Prin∣cesse, it is most cleer that the Kingdome shall not bee yours: and if it be not, what favours can you bee able to doe to me? it is of this that I complain me: Marrie your self one for one with this Princesse, now that we have her here, as it were rained to us down from Heaven, and you may after turn to my Ladie Dulcinea; for I think there bee Kings in the World that keep Lemmans. As for beauty, I will not intermeddle; for if I must say the truth, each of both is very fair, although I have never seen the Lady Dulcinea. How! hast thou not seen her blasphemous Traytor, quoth Don-Quixote, as if thou didest but even now bring me a message from her? I say, quoth Sancho, I have not seen her so leisurely, as I might particularly note her beautie and good parts one by one, but yet in a clap as I saw them, they liked me very well. I doe excuse thee now, said Don-Quixote, and pardon me the displeasure which I have given unto thee, for the first motions are not in our hands. I see that well, quoth Sancho, and that is the reason why talk is in me of one of those first motions: And I cannot omit to speake once at least, that which comes to my tongue. For all that Sancho, replyed Don-Quixote, see well what thou speakest; for, the earthen Pitcher goes so oft to the water. I will say no more.

Well then, answered Sancho, God is in heaven, who seeth all these guiles, and shall be one day Judge of him that sinns most; of me in not speaking well, or of you by not doing well. Let there be no more, quoth Dorotea, but run Sancho, and kisse your Lords hand, and ask him forgivenesse, and from henceforth take more heed how you praise or dispraise any body, and speak no ill of that Lady Toboso, whom I doe not know otherwise then to doe her service; and have confidence in God, for thou shalt not want a Lordship wherein thou mayest live like a King. Sancho went with his head

hanging downeward, and demanded his Lords hand, which hee gave unto him with a grave countenance, and after hee hed kissed it, hee gave him his blessing and said to him, that hee had somwhat to say unto him, and therefore bad him to come somewhat for∣ward that hee might speake unto him. Sancho obeyed, and both of them going a little aside, Don-Quixote said unto him, I have not had leisure after thy comming, to demand of thee in particular, concerning the Ambassage that thou carriedst, and the answere that thou broughtest back; and therefore now Fortune lends us some oportunitie and leisure, doe not denie mee the happiness which thou mayest give mee by thy good newes.

Demand what you please quoth Sancho, and I will answere you, and I request you good my Lord, that you bee not from henceforth so wrathfull. Why dost thou say so Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote? I say it replied Sancho, because that these blowes which you bestowed now, were rather given in revenge of the dissention which the Devill stir∣red between us two the other night, then for any thing I said against my Lady Dulcinea, whom I doe honor and reverence as a relike, although she be none, only because shee is yours. I pray thee good Sancho, said Don-Quixote, fall not again into those discour∣ses for they offend me. I did pardon thee then, and thou knowest that a new offence must have a new penance.

As they talked thus, they espied a Gallant coming towards them, riding on an Asse, and when hee drew neere, hee seemed to bee an AEgyptian; but Sancho Panca, who whensoever hee met any Asses, followed them with his eyes and his heart, as one that thought still on his owne; hee had scarce eyed him, when hee knew that it was Gines of Passamonte, and by the looke of the AEgyptian, found out the fleece of his Asse, as in truth it was; for Gines came riding on his gray Asse, who to the end hee might not bee knowne, and also have commodity to sell his beast, attyred himselfe like an AEgyptian, whose language and many others hee could speake as well as if they were his mother tongue. Sancho saw him and knew him; and scarce had hee seene and taken notice of him, when hee cryed out aloud. Ah theese Ginesillo, leave my goods behinde thee, set my life loose, and doe not intermeddle with my ease. Leave mine Asse, leave my com∣fort; flie Villane, absent thy selfe thee••e, and abandon that which is none of thine. He needed not to have used so many words and frumps, for Gines leaped downe at the very first, and beginning a Trot that seemed rather to bee a Gallop, hee absented himselfe and fledde farre enough from them, in a moment. Sancho went then to his Asse, and imbracing him said, How hast thou done hitherto, my Darling and Treasure, gray Asse of mine Eyes, and my deerest Companion? and with that stroked and kissed him as if it were a reasonable creature. The Asse held his peace, and permitted San∣cho to kisse and cherish him without answering a Word. All the rest arived, and congratulated with Sancho for the finding of his Asse, but chiefely Don-Quixote, who said unto him, that notwithstanding that hee found his Asse, yet would not hee therefore annull his Warrant for the three Colts, for which Sancho returned him very great thanks.

Whilest they two travelled together discoursing thus, the Curate said to Dorotea, that shee had very discreetly discharged her selfe, as well in the Historie, as in her bre∣vitie and immitation thereof, to the phrase and conceits of Bookes of Knighthood: Shee answered, That shee did oft times reade bookes of that subject, but that shee knew not where the Provinces lay, nor Sea-ports, and therefore did only say at ran∣dome that shee had landed in Osuna. I knew it was so quoth the Curate, and there∣fore I said what you heard, wherewithall the matter was souldered. But is it not a marveilous thing to see with what facilitie the unfortunate Gentleman beleeves all these inventions and lies, only because they beare the stile and manner of the follies laid down in his bookes? It is quoth Cardenio, and that so rare and beyond all conceite, as I beleeve, if the like were to bee invented, scarce could the sharpest wits devise such another.

There is yet quoth the Curate, as marvellous a matter as that: for leaving apart the simplicities which this good Gentleman speakes concerning his frenzie, if you will com∣mune

with him of any other subject whatsoever, he will discourse on it with an excellent method, and shew himself to have a cleer and pleasing understanding: So that if he be not touched by matters of Chivalry, there is no man but will deem him to be of a sound and excellent Judgement.

Don-Quixote on the other side prosecuted his conversing with his Squire whilest the others talked together; and said to Sancho; Let us two, friend Pancha, forget old injuries, and say unto me now, without any rancour or anger, Where? how? and when didest thou finde my Ladie Dulcinea? What did shee when thou camest? What said'st thou to her? What answered she? What countenance shewed she as she read my Letter? And who writ it out fairly for thee? And every other thing that thou shalt think worthy of notice in this affair to be demanded or answered, without either addition or lying, or soothing adulation: and on the other side doe not abbreviate it, lest thou shouldest defraud me thereby of expected delight. Sir, answered Sancho, if I must say the truth, none copied out the Letter for me; for I carried no Letter at all.

Thou sayest true, quoth Don-Quixote; for I found the Tablets wherein it was written, with my self, two dayes after thy departure, which did grieve me exceedingly, because I knew not what thou wouldest doe, when thou didest perceive the want of the Letter; and I alwaies made full account, that thou wouldest return again from the place where thou shouldest first misse it. I had done so, quoth Sancho, if I had not borne it away in memory, when you read it to me, in such sort, as I said it to a Cleark of a Verstrie, who did copie it out of my understanding, so poynt by poynt, as he said that he never in all the dayes of his life, although he had read many a Letter of excommunication, read or seen so fine a Letter as it was. And doest thou hold it yet in memory Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote?

No Sir, said Sancho, for after I gave it, seeing it served for none other purpose, I did willingly forget it: And if I remember any thing, it is that of the mouldy, I would say Soveraign Ladie; and the end, Yours untill death, The Knight of the Ill-favoured face: and I put between these two things in the Letter three hundred Souls, and Lives, and Sweet-eyes.

CHAP. IV.

Of the pleasant discourses continued between Don-Quixote and his Squire Sancho Pança, with other Adventures.

AL•• this liketh me well, said Don-Quixote; therefore say on; thou ar∣rived'st; and what was that Queen of Beauty doing then? I dare say that thou foundest her threading of Pearls, or imbroydering some curious Device, with Venice gold, for me her captive Knight. No that I did not, quoth Sancho, but winnowing two bushels of Wheat in the yard of her house.

Why then, said Don-Quixote, thou mayest make account that each corne of that wheat was a grain of Pearl, seeing they were touched by her delicate hand. And friend, didest thou note well what the Wheat was, whether of the best or ordinarie? It was not but red, said Sancho. Well then, I assure thee, answered Don-Quixote, that being sifted by her hands, it must needs make very fair bread, and white. But passe forward: When thou didest deliver my Letter, did she kisse it? Did she set it on her head? Did she use any ceremony worthy of such a Letter? Or what did she? When I went to give it unto her, said Sancho, she was holding up of her armes with a good quantity of Wheat that shee had in her Sieve; and therefore said unto me;

Friend, lay down that Letter there on the Sack; for I cannot read it untill I have win∣nowed all that is here. O discreet Ladie, quoth Don-Quixote; she surely did that, because she might read it at leisure, and recreate her self therewithall. Forward, Sancho: And as long as she was thus busied, what discourses passed she with thee? What did she demand of thee concerning me? And thou, what didest thou answer? Say all, good Sancho, say all; recount to me every particularity, and let not the least immunity re∣main in the Ink-horn.

Shee demanded nothing of mee quoth Sancho, but I recounted unto her the state I had left you in for her sake, doing of penance, all naked from the gyrdle upward among these Rocks, like a bruit Beast, sleeping on the ground, and eating your bread without Table-cloathes, and that you never combed your Beard, but was weeping and cursing your fortune. There thou saidst ill (quoth Don-Quixote) for I doe not curse my for∣tune, but rather blesse it, and will blesse it as long as I shall live, seeing it hath made me worthy to merit the love of so high a Lady as Dulcinea of Toboso. Shee is in good faith so high answered Sancho, as shee surpasseth mee almost by a whole cubit. Why how now Sancho said the Knight, hast thou measured thy selfe with her? I did measure my selfe with her in this manner replyed Sancho; that comming over to helpe her to lift up a sack of Wheate on an Asse, wee joyned so neere, as I well perceived that shee was more then a great spanne higher then my selfe. That is true quoth Don-Quixote: but thinkest thou not that the talenesse of her extended stature is adorned with a thousand millions of graces and indowments of the soule? But Sancho, thou canst not denie me one thing, when thou didst thus approach her, didst thou not feele a most odoriferous smell, an aromaticall flagrancy, an—I cannot tell what, so pleasing, as I know not how to terme it? I say such a sent, as if thou wert in some curious Persumers shoppe? That which I know, quoth Sancho is, that I felt a little unfavorie sent, somwhat ramish and man-like, and I thinke the reason was, because shee had sweat a little, doing of that exercise. It was not so (quoth Don-Quixote) but either thou had'st the mur, or else didest smell thy self; for I know very well how that Rose among Thorns doth sent, that Lillie of the Field, and that chosen Amber. It may well be, said Sancho, as you have said; for I have had many times such a smell, as me thought the Ladie Dulcinea had then: and though shee smel'd too, it were no marvell; for one Divell is like another.

And well (quoth Don-Quixote) see here, she hath sifted her corne, and sent it to the Mill. What did shee after shee had read the Letter? The Letter, said Sancho: shee read it not; for she said she could neither read nor write; and therefore shee tore it into small pieces, and would have no man to read it, lest those of the Village should know her secrets, and said, that what I had told her by word of mouth of your love and extraordinary penance, which you remained doing for her sake, was sufficient. And finally, she concluded, commanding me to say unto you, that shee had her commended unto you, and that she remained with greater desire to see you then to write unto you: and therefore she requested and willed you, as you tendred her affection, that presently upon sight hereof you should abandon these shrubbie Groves, leave off your Frenzie, and take presently the way of Toboso, if some matter of greater importance did not occur; for she had very great desire to see and talk with you. She laughed heartily when I told her that you named your self The Knigh of the Ill-favoured face. I de∣manded for her, whether the beaten Biscaine came there? and shee answered, that he did, and affirmed withall, that he was a very honest man. I asked also for the Gally-Slaves; but she told me, that shee had seen none of them as yet.

All goes well till this, said Don-Quixote: But tell me, I pray thee, What Jewell did she bestow on thee at thy departure, for reward of the news thou carried'st unto her of me? For it is an usuall and ancient custome among Knights and Ladies Errant, to bestow on Squires, Damzels, or Dwafs, which bring them any good tidings of their Ladies, or Servants, some rich Jewell as a reward and thanks of their welcome news.

It may well be, quoth Sancho, and I hold it for a very laudible custome; but I think

it was only used in times past; for I think the manner of this our age is only to give a piece of bread and cheese; for this was all that my Lady Dulcinea bestowed on me, and that over the Yard walls when I took my leave with her: And in signe thereof (well fare all good tokens) the cheese was made of Sheeps Milk. She is marvellous liberall, quoth Don-Quixote; and if she gave thee not a Jewell of gold, it was, without doubt, because she had none then about her; But it is not lost that comes at last. I will see her, and then all things shall be amended. Knowest thou, Sancho, whereat I wonder? it is at this sodain return: for it seems to me thou wast gone, and hast come back again in the aire; for thou hast been away but a little more then three dayes, Toboso being more then thirty leagues from hence: And therefore I doe believe that the wise Inchanter who takes care of mine Affairs, and is my friend (for there is such a one of force, and there must be, under pain that I else should not be a good Knight Errant) I say, I verily think that wise man holp thee to trample unawares of thy self: for there are wise men of that condition which will take a Knight Errant sleeping in his bed; and without knowing how or in what manner, hee will wake the next day a thousand leagues from that place where hee fell asleep: And were it not for this, Knights Errant could not succour one another in their most dangerous exigents, as they doe now at every step. For it oft-times befalls, that a Knight is fighting in the Mountains of Armenia, with some divellish Fau••o, some dreadfull shaddow, or fierce Knight, where he is like to have the worst; and in this poynt of death, when he least expects it, there appears there on the top of a Cloud, or riding in a Chariot of fire, another Knight his friend, who was but even then in England, and helps him, and delivers him from death, and re∣turns again that night to his own lodging, where he Sups with a very good appetite; and yet for all that, is there wont to bee two or three thousand leagues from the one to the other Countrey. All which is compassed by the industrie and wisedome of those skill∣full Inchanters that take care of the said valorous Knights.

So that, friend Sancho, I am not hard of belief in giving thee credit, that thou hast gone and returned in so short a time from this place to Toboso, seeing, as I have said, some wise man my friend hath (belike) transported thee thither by stealth, and unaware of thy self. I easily think it, replyed Sancho; for Rozinante travailed, in good faith, as lustily as if he were an Aegyptians Asse, with Quick-silver in his ears. And thinkest thou not, quoth Don-Quixote, that he had not Quick-silver in his eares? yes, and a legion of Devills also to help it, who are folk that doe travail and make others goe as much as they list without any wearinesse.

But leaving all this apart, what is thine opinion that I should doe now, concerning my Ladies commandement, to goe and see her? for although I know that I am bound to obey her behests; yet doe I finde my self disabled at this time to accomplish them, by reason of the grant I have made to the Princesse that comes with us, and the Law of Armes doth compell me to accomplish my word rather then my will: on the one side I am assaulted and urged by a desire to goe and see my Ladie; on the other, my promised faith, and the glory I shall winne in this enterprize, doe incite and call me away. But that which I resolve to doe, is to travaill with all speed that I may quickly arive to the place where that Giant is, and will cut off his head at my coming: and when I have peaceably installed the Princesse in her Kingdome, will presently return to see the light that doth lighten my senses; to whom I will yield such forcible reasons of my so long absence, as she shall easily condescend to excuse my stay, seeing all doth redound to her glory and fame: For all that I have gained, doe win, or shall hereafter atchieve by force of Armes in this life, proceeds wholy from the gracious favour she pleaseth to bestow upon me, and my being hers.

O God! quoth Sancho, I perceive that you are greatly diseased in the pate. I pray you Sir, tell me whether you mean to goe this long voyage for nought, and let slip and lose so rich and so noble a preferment as this; where the dowrie is a Kingdome, which is in good faith, as I have heard say, twenty thousand leagues in compasse, and most plentifully stored with all things necessary for the susteining of humane life; and that it is greater then Portugall and Castile joyned together? Peace, for Gods love, and

blush at your owne words, and take my councell, and marry presently in the first vil∣lage that hath a Parish-Priest: and if you will not doe it there, can you wish a better commoditie then to have our own Master Licentiat, who will doe it most excellently; And note that I am old enough to give counsaile, and that this which I now deliver, is as fit for you, as if it were expresly cast for you in a mould. For a Sparrow in the fist, is worth more then a flying Bittor.

For hee that can have good, and evill doth choose, For ill that betides him, must not Patience loose.

Why Sancho quoth Don-Quixote, if thou givest mee councell to marry, to the end I may become a King after I have slaine the Giant, and have commoditie thereby to pro∣mote thee, and give thee what I have promised; I let thee to understand that I may doe all that most easily, without marrying my selfe. For before I enter into the battel, I will make this condition, that when I come away victor, although I marry not the Princesse, yet shall a part of the Kingdome bee at my disposition, to bestow upon whom I please; and when I receive it, upon whom wouldst thou have me bestowe it but on thy selfe? That is manifest said Sancho; but I pray you Sir, have care to choose that part you would reserve towards the Sea side, to the end that if the living doe not please me, I may imbarque my black vassails, and make the benefit of them which I have said. And likewise I pray you not to trouble your mind, thinking to goe and see my Lady Dulcinea at this time, but travaile towards the place where the Gyant is, and kill him, and conclude that businesse first; for I sweare unto you, that I am of opinion it will prove an Adventure of very great honor and profit. I assure thee Sancho quoth Don-Quixote,, thou art in the ••ight, and I will follow thy counsaile in rather going first with the Princesse, then to visit Dulcinea, And I warne thee not to speake a word to any body, no, not to those that ride with us, of that which wee have here spoken and discoursed together; for since Dulcineae is so warie and secret, as shee would not have her thoughts discovered, it is no reason, that I eyther by my self or any other should detect them.

If that bee so quoth Sancho, why then doe you send all those which you vanquish by virtue of your arme, to present themselves to my Lady Dulcinea, seeing this is as good as subsignation of your hands-writing, that you wish her well, and are enamou∣red on her? And seeing that those which goe to her, must forcibly lay them down on their knees before her presence, and say that they come from you to doe her homage, how then can the thoughts of you both bee hidden and concealed? O! how great a foole art thou, and how simple quoth Don-Quixote? Dost not thou perceive Sancho, how all this results to her greater glory? For thou oughtest to wit, that in our Knight∣ly proceedings, it is great honour, that one Lady alone have many Knights Errant for her Servitors, without extending their thoughts any farther then to serve her, only for her high worths, without attending any other reward of their many and good desires, then that shee will deigne to accept them as her Servants and Knights. I have heard preach, said Sancho, that men should love our Saviour with that kinde of love, on∣ly for his owne sake, without beeing mooved thereunto eyther by the hope of Glory, or the feare of Payne; although for my part I would love and serve him, for what hee is able to doe. The Devill take thee for a Clowne, quoth Don-Quixote, how sharpe and pertinently doest thou speake now and then, able to make a man ima∣gine that thou hast studied? Now by mine honesty, quoth Sancho. I can neither reade nor write.

Master Nicholas perceiving them drowned thus in their Discourses, cryed out to them to stay and drinke of a little Fountaine that was by the way. Don-Quixote, re∣sted to Sanchoes very great contentment, who was already tyred with telling him so many lies, and was afraid his Master would intrap him in his owne words. For although hee knew Dulcinea to bee of Toboso, yet had hee never seene her in his life. And Carde∣nio had by this time put, on the apparell Doroten wore when they found her in the

Mountaines, which though they were not very good, yet exceeded with great advan∣tage those which hee had himselfe before; And alighting hard by the Fountaine, they satisfied with the provision the Curate had brought with him from the Inne, although it were but little, the great hunger that pressed them. And whilest they tooke their ease there, a certaine young stripling that travelled, passed by, who looking very ear∣nestly on all those which sate about the Fountaine, hee ranne presently after to Don-Quixote, and imbracing his Legs, hee said, weeping downright: O my Lord, doe not you know mee? Looke well upon mee, for I am the youth Andrew, whom you unloosed from the Oake whereunto I was tyed. Don-Quixote presently knew him, and taking him by the hands, hee turned to those that were present and said, Because you may see of how great importance it is, that there bee Knights Errant in the World, to undoe wrongs and injuries that are committed in it by the insolent and bad men which live therein, you shall wit that a few daies past, as I rode through a Wood, I heard certaine lamentable screetches and cries, as of some needefull and afflicted person: I forthwith occur'd, borne away by my profession towards the place from whence the lamentable voyce founded, and I found tied to an Oaken tree, this boy whom you see here in our presence, for which I am marvelous glad, be••ause if I shall not say the truth, hee may check mee. I say that hee was tyed to the Oake starke naked form the middle upward, and a certaine Clowne was opening his flesh with cruell blowes that hee gave him with the reines of a bridle; which Clowne, as I after understood, was his Master. And so soone as I saw him, I demanded the cause of those cruell stripes. The rude fel∣low answered, that hee beate him because hee was his servant, and that certaine negli∣gences of his proceeded rather from being a theefe, then of simplicity. To which this childe answered; Sir, hee whips mee for no other cause, but by reason that I demand my wages of him. His Master replyed, I know not now what speeches and excuses, the which although I heard, yet were they not by mee admitted. In resolution, I caused him to bee loosed, and tooke the Clownes Oath, that hee would take him home, and pay him there his wages, one Riall upon another; I, and those also perfumed. Is it not true sonne Andrew? Didst not thou note with what a domaniering coun∣tenance I commanded it, and with what humilitie hee promised to accomplish all that I imposed, Commanded and Desired? Answere mee, bee not ashamed, nor stagger at all, but tell what passed to these Gentlemen, to the end it may bee mani∣festly seene how necessary it is, as I have said, to have Knights Errant up and down the high-wayes.

All that which you have said, quoth the boy, is very true; but the end of the matter succeeded altogether contrary to that which you imagined. How contrarie, quoth Don-Quixote? Why hath not the Peasant paid thee? He not only hath not paid me, answered the boy, but rather as soon as you were passed the wood, and that we re∣mained both alone, he turned again and tyed me to the same tree, and gave me afresh so many blows, as I remained another S. Bartholomew all flayed; and at every blow he said some jest or other in derision of you: So that if I had not felt the pain of the stripes so much as I did, I could have found in my heart to have laughed very heartily. In fine, he left me in such pittifull case, as I have been ever since curing my selfe in an Ho∣spitall, of the evill which the wicked Peasant did then unto me. And you are in the fault of all this; for if you had ridden on your way, and not come to the place where you were not sought for, nor intermedled your self in other mens affairs, perhaps my Ma∣ster had contented himself with giving me a dozen or two of stroaks, and would pre∣sently after have loosed, and payed me my wages: But by reason you dishonoured him so much without cause, and said to him so many Villains, his choler was inflamed; and seeing he could not revenge it on you, finding himself alone, he disburdened the showre on me so heavily, as I greatly fear that I shall never again be mine own man.

The hurt consisted in my departure (quoth Don-Quixote) for I should not have gone from thence, untill I had seen thee payed: For I might have very well known by many experiences, that there is no Clown that will keep his word, if he see the keeping of it can turn any way to his damage: But yet, Andrew, thou doest re∣member

member how I swoar, that if he paied thee not, I would return & seek him out, and like∣wise finde him, although he conveyed himself into a Whales belly.

That's true, quoth Andrew; but all avails not. Thou shalt see whether it avails or no presently, quoth Don-Quixote: and saying so, got up very hastily, & cōmanded Sancho to bridle Rozinante, who was feeding whilest they did eate. Dorotea demanded of him, what he meant to doe? He answered, that he would goe and finde out the Villain, and punish him for using such bad proceedings, and cause Andrew to be paid the last denier, in despite of as many Peasants as lived in the world. To which she answered, intreating him to remem∣ber that hee could not deale with any other Adventure, according to his promise, untill hers were atchieved; and seeing that hee himself knew it to bee true, bet∣ter then any other, that hee should pacifie himselfe, untill his returne from her Kingdome.

You have reason, said Don-Quixote; and therefore Andrew must have patience perforce, untill my return (as you have said, Madame) and when I shall turne again I doe swear unto him, and likewise renew my promise, never to rest, untill he be satis∣fied and payed. I believe not in such Oaths, quoth Andrew; but would have as much money as might carry me to Sivill, rather then all the revenges in the world: Give me some meat to eate, and carry away with me, and God be with you and all other Knights Errant, and I pray God that they may prove as erring to themselves as they have been to me.

Sancho took out of his Bagg a piece of bread and cheese, and giving it to the Youth, said, Hold brother Andrew, for every one hath his part of your misfortune. I pray you what part thereof have you, said Andrew? This piece of bread and cheese that I bestow on thee, quoth Sancho; for God only knows whether I shall have neede of it again, or no: for thou must wit, friend, that we the Squires of Kinghts Errant are very subject to great hunger and evill luck, yea, and to other things which are better felt then told. Andrew laid hold on his bread and cheese; and seeing that no body gave him any other thing, he bowed his head and went on his way: True it is, that hee said to Don-Quixote, at his departure: For Gods love, good Sir Knight Errant, if you shall ever meet me again in the plight you have done, although you should see me ••orne in pieces, yet doe not succour or help me, but leave me in my disgrace; for it cannot bee so great, but that a greater will result from your help, upon whom, and all the other Knights Errant that are borne in the world, I pray God his curse may alight. Don-Quixote thought to arise to chastise him; but he ran away so swiftly, as no man durst follow him; and our Knight remained marvellously ashamed at Andrews tale; where∣fore the rest with much adoe supprest their desire to laugh, lest they should throughly confound him.

CHAP. V.

Treating of that which befell all Don-Quixote his Traine in the Inne.

THe Dinner being ended, they sadled and went to horse presently, and travailed all that day, and the next, without incountring any Ad∣venture venture of price, untill they arived at the only bugg and scar-crow of Sancho Panca; & though he would full fain have excused his entry into it, yet could hee in no wise avoid it: The Inn-Keeper, the Hostesse, her Daughter, and Maritornes seeing Don-Quixote and Sancho return, went out to receive them with tokens of great love and joy, and he entertained them with grave countenance and applause, and bade them

to make him ready a better Bed then the other which they had given unto him the time before. Sir, quoth the Hostesse, if you would pay us better then the last time, wee would give you one for a Prince, Don-Quixote answered, that he would: They pre∣pared a reasonable good bed for him in the same wide room where he lay before; and he went presently to bed, by reason that he arived much tyred, and void of wit. And scarce was he gotten into his chamber, when the Hostesse leaping suddainly on the Bar∣ber, and taking him by the beard, said, Now by my self blessed, thou shalt use my taile no more for a beard, and thou shalt turne me my taile; for my husbands combe goes thrown up and down the floor, that it is a shame to see it: I mean the combe that I was wont to hang up in my good taile. The Barber would not give it unto her for all her drawing, untill the Licentiat bade him to restore it, that they had now no more use thereof, but that he might now very well discover himself, and appear in his own shape, and say to Don-Quixote, that after the Gally-slaves had rob'd him, he fled to that Inne: And if Don-Quixote demanded by chance for the Princesse her Squire, that they should tell him, how she had sent him before to her Kingdome, to give intel∣ligence to her Subjects, that she returned, bringing with her him that should free and give them all libertie. With this the Barber surrendred the taile willingly to the Hostesse, and likewise all the other borrowed wares which she had lent for Don-Qui∣xotes deliverie. All those of the Inne rested wonderfull amazed at Doroteas beautie, and also at the comelinesse of the Sheepheard Cardenio. Then the Curate gave order to make readie for them such meat as the Inne could afford: and the Inn-keeper, in hope of better payment, did dresse very speedily for them, a reasonable good Dinner. Don-Quixote slept all this while, and they were of opinion to let him take his rest, seeing sleep was more requisite for his disease then meat. At the Table they discoursed (the Inn-keeper, his Wife, Daughter, and Marito••nes, and all the other Travailers being present) of Don-Quixotes strange Frenzie, and of the manner wherein they found him. The Hostesse eftsoons recounted what had hapned there between him and the Carrier; and looking to see whether Sancho were present, preceiving that he was away, she told likewise all the story of his canvasing, whereat they conceived no little content and pastime: And, as the Curate said, that the originall cause of Don-Quixotes madnesse proceeded from the reading of Books of Knighthood. The Inn-keeper answered;

I cannot conceive how that can bee, for (as I beleeve) there is no reading so de∣lightfull in this world, and I my selfe have two or three bookes of that kinde with o∣ther papers, which doe verily keepe mee alive, and not only mee but many other. For in the reaping times, many of the Reapers repayre to this place in the heates of mid day, and there is evermore some one or other among them that can reade, who takes one of these bookes in hand, and then some thirty or more of us doe compasse him about, and doe listen to him with such pleasure, as it hinders a thousand hoary haires; for I dare say at least of my selfe, that when I heard tell of those furious and terrible blowes that Knights Errant give, it inflames mee with a desire to become such a one my selfe, and could finde in my heart to bee hearing of them day and night. I am just of the same minde, no more, nor no lesse, said the Hostesse, for I never have any quiet houre in my house, but when thou art hearing those bookes whereon thou art so besotted, as then thou dost only forget to chide, which is thy ordinary exercise at other times. That is very true said Maritornes. And I in good sooth doe take great delight to heare those things, for they are very fine, and especially when they tell how such a Ladie lies embra∣ced by her Knight under an Orange tree, and that a certaine Damzell keepeth Watch all the while, readie to burst for envie that shee hath not likewise her sweete-heart; and very much afraid. I say that all those things are as sweete as honey to mee. And you, quoth the Curate to the Inn-keepers daughter, what doe you thinke? I know not in good sooth, Sir quoth shee, but I doe likewise give eare, and in truth although I under∣stand it not, yet doe I take some pleasure to heare them, but I mislike greatly those blows which please my father so much, and only delight in the lamentations that Knights make being absent from their Ladies; which in sooth doe now and then make mee weepe,

through the compassion I take of them. Well then quoth Dorotea, belike, faire may∣den you would remedie them, if such plaints were breathed for your owne sake? I know not what I would doe, answered the Gyrle, only this I know, that there are some of those Ladies so cruell, as their Knights call them Tygers and Lyons, and a thou∣sand other wilde-Beasts. And good Iesus, I know not what un-Souled folke they bee, and so without Conscience, that because they will not once behold an honourable man, they suffer him eyther to die or run mad. And I know not to what end serves all that coynesse. For if they doe it for honesties sake, let them marry with them, for the Knights desire nothing more. Peace childe, quoth the Hostesse; for it seems that thou knowest too much of those matters, and it is not decent that Maidens should know or speak so much. I speak, quoth she, by reason that this good Sir made me the de∣mand; and I could not in courtesie omit to answer him. Well, said the Curate, let me intreat you, good mine Host, to bring us here those Books; for I would fain see them.

I am pleased, said the Inn-keeper: And then entring into his Chamber, he brought forth a little old Malet shut up with a chain; and opening thereof, hee took out three great Books and certain Papers written with a very fair Letter. The first Book hee opened was that of Don Cirongilio of Thracia: The other Felixmarte of Hircania: And the third, The History of the great Captain, Goncalo Hernandez of Cordova, with the life of Diego Garcia of Paredes adjoyned. As soon as the Curate had read the Titles of the two Books, he said to the Barber, We have now great want of our friends, the old woman and Neece. Not so much as you think, quoth the Barber; for I know also the way to the yard or the chimney, and in good sooth, there is a fire in it good enough for that purpose. Would you then, quoth the Host, burn my Books? No more of them, quoth the Curate, but these first two of Don Cirongilio and Felixmarte, are my Books. Perhaps, quoth the Inn-keeper, Hereticall or Flegmaticall, that you would thus roughly handle them. Schismaticall thou wo••ldest have said, quoth the Barber, and not Flegmaticall. It is so, said the Inn-keeper; but if you will needs burn any, I pray you, rather let it be that of the great Captain, and of that Diego Garcia; for I would rather suffer one of my Sonnes to bee burned then any one of those other two. Good friend, these two Books are lying, and full of follies and vanities; but that of the great Captain is true, and containeth the arts of Goncalo Hernandez of Cordova, who for his sundrie and noble acts merited to be tearmed by all the world The great Captain, a name famous, illustrious, and only deserved by himself and this other Diego Garcia of Paredes was a noble Gentleman, born in the City of Truxillo in Estremadura, & was a most valourous Souldier; and of so surpassing force, as he would detain a Mill∣wheele with one hand from turning in the midest of the speediest motion: And stand∣ing once at the end of a Bridge with a two-handed Sword, defended the passage against a mighty Armie that attempted to passe over it; and did so many other things, that if another who were a stranger and unpassionate had written them, as he did himself who was the relater and Historiographer of his own Acts, and therefore recounted them with the modestie of a Gentleman and proper Chronicler, they would have drowned all the Hectors, Achillises and Rollands in oblivion.

There is a Jest, quoth the Inn-keeper, deale with my father, I pray you see at what you wonder: A wise tale at the with-holding of the wheele of a Mill. I swear you ought to read that which is read in Felixmarte of Hircania, who with one thwart blow cut five mighty Gyants in halfes, as if they were of Beans, like to the little Friers that Children make of Bean-cods: And set another time upon a great and most powerfull Army of more then a Million and six hundred thousand Souldiers, and overthrew and scattered them all like a Flock of Sheep. What then can you say to me of the good Don Cirongilio of Thracia, who was so animous and valiant as may bee seen in his Book; wherein is laid down, That as he sailed along a River, there issued out of the midest of the water a Serpent of fire, and he, as soon as he perceived it, leaped upon her, and hanging by her scalie shoulders, he wrung her throat so straitly between both his armes, that the Serpent perceiving her self to be well-nigh strangled, had no

other way to save her self but by diving down into the deeps, carrying the Knight away with her, who would never let goe his gripe, and when they came to the bottom, hee found himself by a Palace in such faire and pleasant gardens, as it was a wonder; and presently the Serpent turned into an old man, which said to him such things as there is no more to be desired. Two figs for the Great Captain, and that Diego Garcia, of whom you speake.

Dorotea hearing him speake thus, said to Cardenio, Mee thinks our Host wants but little to make up a second part of Don-Quixote. So it seemes to mee likewise, replyed Cardenio, for as wee may conjecture by his words, hee certainly beleeves that every thing written in those bookes, passed just as it is laid downe, and barefooted-Friers would bee scarce able to perswade him the contary. Know friend (quoth the Curate to the In-keeper) that there was never any such man as Felixmarte of Hircania, or Don-Chirongilio of Thracia, nor other such Knights as bookes of Chivalry recount; for all is but a device and fiction of idle wits that composed them, to the end that thou sayest, to passe over the time, as your readers doe in reading of them: For I sinceerely sweare unto thee, that there were never such Knights in the world, nor such Adventures and ravings hapned in it. Cast that bone to another dog quoth the In-keeper, as though I knew not how many numbers are five, and where the shooe wrests mee now. I pray you Sir, goe not about to give mee pap, for by the Lord I am not so white. Is it not a good sport that you labour to perswade mee, that all that which these good bookes say are but ravings and fables, they being printed by Grace and Favour of the Lords of the Privie Councell; as if they were folke that would permit so many lies to bee printed at once, and so many Battells and Enchantments, as are able to make a man run out of his wits: I have told thee already friend (said the Curate) that this is done for the re∣creation of our idle thoughts, and so even as in well governed Comonwealths, the playes at Chesse, Tennis and Trucks are tolerated for the pastime of some men which have none other occupation, and either ought not or cannot worke, even so such books are permitted to bee printed; presuming (as in truth they ought) that no man would be found so simple and ignorant, as to hold any of these bookes for a true Historie. And if my leisure permitted, and that it were a thing requisite for this Auditory, I could say many things concerning the subject of bookes of Knighthood, to the end that they should bee well contrived, and also bee pleasant and profitable to the Readers; but I hope somtime to have the commodity to communicate my conceit with those that may redresse it. And in the meane while you may beleeve good mine Host, what I have said, and take to you your books, and agree with their truths or leasings as you please, and much good may it doe you; and I pray God that you halt not in time on the foote that your guest Don-Quixote halteth. Not so quoth the In-keeper, for I will never bee so wood as to become a Knight Errant, for I see well, that what was used in the times of these famous Knights is now in no use nor request.

Sancho came in about the midst of this discourse, and rested much confounded and Pensative of that which hee heard them say, that Knights Errant were now in no re∣quest, and that the bookes of Chivalry only conteined follies and lies, and purposed with himselfe to see the end of that voyage of his Lords, and that if it sorted not the wished successe which hee expected, hee resolved to leave him and return home to his wife and children and accustomed labour. The Inn-keeper thought to take away his bookes and budget, but the Curate withheld him saying. Stay a while, for I would see what papers are those which are written in so faire a Character. The Host tooke them out and gave them to him to read, being in number some eight sheetes with a title writ∣ten in text letters, which said, The Historie of the curious Impertinent. The Curate read two or three lines softly to himselfe, and said after, Truly the title of this History doth not mislike mee, and therefore I am about to reade it through. The Inn-keeper hea∣ring him said, Your reverence may very well doe it, for I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you that some guests which have read it here, as they travelled, dis••ommend it exceedingly, and have beg'd it of mee as earnestly, but I would never bestow it, hoping some day to restore it to the owner of this Malet, who forgot it here behinde him with those bookes and papers, for

it may bee that hee will somtime return, and although I know that I shall have great want of the bookes, yet will I make to him restitution, for although I am an In-keeper, yet God be thanked I am a Christian therewithall. You have great reason my friend, quoth the Curate, but yet notwithstanding if the taste like me, thou must give me leave to take a copie thereof. With all my heart replyed the Host. And as they two talked, Cardenio taking the booke, began to reade a little of it, and it pleasing him as much as it had done the Curate, he requested him to reade it in such sort as they might all heare him. That I would willingly doe said the Curate, if the time were not now more fit for sleeping then reading. It were sufficient repose for me, said Dorotea, to passe away the time listening to some tale or other, for my spirit is not yet so well quieted as to a∣ford me licence to sleepe, even then when nature exacteth it. If that bee so, quoth the Curate, I will reade it, if it were but for curiositie, perhaps it containeth some delight∣full matter. Master Nicholas and Sancho intreated the same. The Curate seeing and knowing that he should therein doe them all a pleasure, and hee himselfe likewise receive as great, said, Seeing you will needes heare it, be all of you attentive, for the History be∣gineth in this manner.

CHAP. VI.

Wherein is rehearsed the History of the Curious-Impertinent.

IN Florence, a rich and famous Citie of Italie, in the Province called Tuscane, there dwelled two rich and principall Gentlemen called Anselmo and Lothario, which two were so great friends, as they were named for excellency, and by Antonomasta, by all those that knew them, the Two friends: They were both Batchelers, and much of one age and manners; all which was of force to make them answer one another with reciprocall amity. True it is that Anselmo was somewhat more inclined to amorous dalliance then Lothario, who was altogether addicted to hunting: But when occasion exacted it Anselmo would omit his own pleasures, to satisfie his friends; and Lothario likewise his, to please Anselmo: And by this means both their wills were so correspondent, as no clock could be better ordered then were their desires. Anselmo being at last deeply enamoured of a principall and beautifull young Ladie of the same Citie, called Camila, being so worthily descended, and she her self of such merit therewithall, as he resolved (by the consent of his friend Lothario, without whom he did nothing) to demand her of her Parents for wife; and did put his purpose in execution; and Lo∣thario himself was the messenger, and concluded the matter so to his friends satisfaction, as he was shortly after put in possession of his desires; and Camila so contented to have gotten Anselmo, as she ceased not to render Heaven and Lothario thanks, by whose means she had obtained so great a match. The first dayes, as all marriage dayes are wont to be merry, Lothario frequented, according to the custome, his frind An∣selmo's house, endeavouring to honour, feast, and recreate him all the wayes he might possible: But after the Nuptials were finished, and the concourse of Strangers, Visita∣tions, and Congratulations somewhat ceased, Lothario, also began to be somewhat more slack then he wor••ted in going to Anselmo his house, deeming it (as it is reason that all discreet men should) not so convenient to visit or haunt so often the house of his friend after marriage as he would, had he still remained a Batcheler. For although true amity neither should, nor ought to admit the least suspition: yet notwithstanding a married mans honour is so delicate and tender a thing, as it seems it may be some∣times impaired, even by very Bretheren; and how much more by Friends? Anselmo

noted the remission of Lothario, and did grievously complain thereof, saying; That if he had wist by marriage he should thus be deprived of his deered conversation, hee would never have married; and that since through the uniform correspondencie of them both being free, they had deserved the sweet title of the two friends, that he should not now permit (be••ause he would be noted circumspect without any other occasion) that so famous and pleasing a name should be lost: and therefore he requested him (if it were lawfull to use such a terme between them two) to return and be Master of his house, and come and goe as he had done before his marriage, assuring him that his Spouse Camila had no other pleasure and will, then that which himself pleased shee should have: and that she, after having known how great was both their frindships, was not a little amazed to see him become so strange.

To all these and many other reasons alledged by Anselmo, to perswade Lothario to frequent his house, he answered with so great prudence, discretion and warinesse, as Anselmo remained satisfied of his friends good intention herein: and they made an agreement between them two, that Lothario should dine at his house twice a week, and the Holy-dayes besides: And although this agreement had passed between them, yet Lothario purposed to doe that only which he should finde most expedient for his friends honour, whose reputation he tendered much more deerly then he did his own; and was wont to say very discreetly, that the married man, unto whom heaven had given a beautifull wife, ought to have as much heede of the friends which he brought to his house, as he should of the women friends that visited his wife; for that which is not done nor agreed upon in the Church or Market, nor in publique Feasts or Stations (being places that a man cannot lawfully hinder his wife from frequenting sometimes at least) are oft-times facilitated and contrived in a friends or kins-womans house, whom perhaps we never suspected. Anselmo on the other side affirmed, That therefore married men ought every one of them to have some friend who might ad∣vertise them of the faults escaped in their manner of proceeding; for it befalls many times, that through the great love which the Husband bears to his Wife, either he doth not take notice, or else he doth not advertise her, because he would not offend her to doe or omit to doe certain things, the doing or omitting whereof might turn to his honour or obloquie; to which things, being advertised by his friend, he might easily apply some remedie: But where might a man finde a friend so discreet, loyall and trustie as Anselmo demands? I know not truly, if not Lothario; for he it was that with all sollicitude and care regarded the honour of his friend: and therefore endeavoured to clip and diminish the number of the dayes promised, lest he should give occasion to the idle vulgar, or to the eyes of vagabonds and malicious men to judge any sinister thing, viewing so rich, comely, noble, and qualified a young man as he was, to have so free accesse into the house of a woman so beautifull as Camila. For though his virtues and modest carriage were sufficiently able to set a bridle to any malignant tongue, yet notwithstanding he would not have his credit, nor that of his friends called into any question; and therefore would spend most of the dayes that he had agreed to visit his friend, in other places and exercises; yet feigning excuses so plausible, as his friend admitted them for very reasonable. And thus the time passed on in challenges of un∣kindnesse of the one side, and lawfull excuses of the other.

It so fell out, that as both the friends walked on a day together in a field without the Citie, Anselmo said to Lothario these words ensuing, I know very well, friend Lothario, that among all the favours which God of his bountie hath bestowed upon me by making me the Sonne of such Parents, and giving to me with so liberall a hand, both the goods of Nature and Fortune: yet as I cannot answer him with sufficient grati∣tude for the benefits already received, so doe I finde my self most highly bound unto him above all others, for having given me such a friend as thou art, and so beautifull a wife as Camila, being both of you such pawns, as if I esteem you not in the degree which I ought, yet doe I hold you as deer as I may: And yet possessing all those things which are wont to be the all and sum that are wont and may make a man happie, I live notwithstanding the most sullen and discontented life of the World; being troubled, I

know not since when, and inwardly wrested with so strange a desire, and extravagant from the common use of others, as I marvell at my self, and doe condemn and rebuke my self when I am alone, and doe labour to conceale and cover mine own desires; all which hath served me to as little effect, as if I had proclaimed mine own errours purposely to the World: And seeing that it must finally break out, my will is, that it be only communicated to the treasury of thy secret; hoping by it and mine own industry, which (as my true friend) thou wilt use to help me, I shall bee quickly freed from the anguish it causeth, and by thy means my joy and contentment shall arive to the passe that my discontents have brought me through mine own folly.

Lothario stood suspended at Anselmo's Speech, as one that could not imagine to what so prolixe a prevention and preamble tended: And although he revolved and imagined sundry things in his minde which he deemed might afflict his friend, yet did hee ever shoot wide from the mark which in truth it was: and that he might quickly escape that agonie, wherein the suspention held him, he said, That his friend did notable injurie to their amity, in searching out wreathings and ambages in the discovery of his most hidden thoughts to him, seeing bee might assure himself certainly, either to receive counsells of him how to entertain, or else remedy and means how to accomplish them.

It is very true answered Anselmo, and with that confidence I let thee to understand, friend Lothario, That the desire which vexeth me, is a longing, to know whether my wife Camila be as good and perfect as I doe account her; and I cannot wholy rest satisfied of this truth, but by making tryall of her, in such sort, as it may give manifest argument of the degree of her goodnesse, as the fire doth shew the value of gold: For I am of opinion (O friend) that a woman is of no more worth or virtue, then that which is in her, after shee hath been solicited [Casta est quam nemo rogavit:] and that she alone is strong who cannot be bowed by the Promises, Gifts, Tears, and continuall importunities of importunate Lovers: For what thanks is it (quoth he) for a woman to be good, if no body say or teach her ill? What wonder that she be retired and ti∣morous, if no occasion be ministred to her of dissolution, and chiefly she that knows she hath a husband ready to kill her for the least argument of lightnesse? So that she which is only good for fear or want of occasion, will I never hold in that estimation, that I would the other sollicited and pursued, who notwithstanding comes away crowned with the victory: And therefore being moved as well by these reasons as by many other which I could tell you, which accredit and fortifie mine opinion, I desire that my wife Camila doe also passe thorow the pikes of those proofs and difficulties, and purifie and refine her self in the fire of being requested, sollicited and pursued; and that by one whose worths and valour may deserve acceptance in her opinion: and if she bear away the Palme of the victory, as I believe shee will, I shall account my fortune matchlesse, and may brag that my desires are in their height; and will say that a strong woman hath faln to my lot, of whom the Wise man faith, who shall finde her? And when it shall succeed contrary to mine expection, I shall, with the pleasure that I will conceive to see how rightly it jumps with mine opinion, bear very indifferent the grief which in all reason this so costly a tryall must stir in me: And presupposing that nothing which thou shalt say to me shall be available to hinder my designe, or disswade me from putting my purpose in execution; I would have thy selfe, deer friend Lothario, to provide thee to be the instrument that shall labour this worke of my liking, and I will give thee oportunitie enough to performe the same, without omitting any thing that may further thee in the sollicitation of an Honest, Noble, Warie, Retired and Passionlesse woman.

And I am chiefly moved to commit this so hard an enterprize to thy trust; because I know that if Camila be vanquished by thee, yet shall not the victory arive to the last push and upshot, but only to that of accounting a thing to bee done, which shall not bee done for many good respects. So shall I remain nothing offended, and mine in∣jury concealed in the virtue of thy silence; for I know thy care to be such in matters concerning me, as it shall bee eternall, like that of death. And therefore if thou desirest

that I may lead a life deserving that name, thou must forthwith provide thy selfe to en∣ter into this amorous conflict, and that not languishing or slothfully, but with that cou∣rage and diligence which my desire expecteth, and the confidence I have in our amitie assureth mee.

These were the reasons used by Anselmo to Lothario, to all which hee was so atten∣tive, as untill hee ended, hee did not once unfold his lips to speake a word save those which wee have above related, and seeing that hee spoke no more; after hee had beheld him a good while, as a thing that hee had never before, and did therefore strike him in∣to admiration and amazement hee said, Friend Anselmo, I cannot perswade my selfe, that the words you have spoken be other then jests, for had I thought that thou wert in earnest, I would not have suffered thee to passe on so far, and by lending thee no eare would have excused this tedious Oration. I doe verily imagine that either thou dost not know mee, or I thee: but not so, for I know thee to bee Anselmo; and thou that I am Lothario; the dammage is, that I thinke thou art not the Anselma thou wast wont to bee, and perhaps thou deemest mee not to bee the accustomed Lothario that I ought to bee; for the things which thou hast spoken, are not of that Anselmo my friend, nor those which thou seekest ought to bee demanded of that Lothario, of whom thou hast notice; for true friends ought to prove and use their friends, as the Poet said, Vsque ad Aras, that is, that they should in no sort imploy them or implore their assistance in things offensive unto God, and if a Gentile was of this opinion in matters of friendship how much greater reason is it that a Christian should have that feeling, specially know∣ing that the celestiall amitie is not to bee lost for any humane friendship whatsoever. And when the friend should throw the bars so wide, as to set heavenly respects apart, for to complement with his friend, it must not bee done on light grounds, or for things of small moment, but rather for those whereon his friends life and honour wholy depends. Then tell mee now Anselmo, in which of these two things art thou in danger, that I may adventure my Person to doe thee a pleasure, and attempt so dete••lable a thing as thou doest demand? None of them truly, but rather doest demand, as I may conje∣cture, that I doe industriously labour to deprive thee of thine honour and life together, and in doing so, I likewise deprive my selfe of them both. For if I must labour to take away thy credit, it is most evident that I dispoyle thee of life, for a man without repu∣tation, is worse then a dead man, and I being the instrument (as thou desirest that I should be) of so great harme unto thee, doe not I become, likewise thereby dishonou∣red, and by the same consequence also without life? Heare mee friend Anselmo, and have patience not to answere mee untill I have said all that I think, concerning that which thy mind exacteth of thee; for we shall have after leisure enough, wherein thou maist reply, and I have patience to listen unto thy reasons.

I am pleased quoth Anselmo, say what thou likest. And Lothario prosecuted his speech in this manner; Mee thinks Anselmo, that thou art now of the Moores humors, which can by no meanes bee made to understand the error of their sect; neither by Ci∣tations of the holy Scripture, nor by reasons which consist in speculations of the under∣standing, or that are founded in the Articles of the Faith, but must bee won by palpa∣ble examples, and those easie, intelligible, demonstrative and doubtlesse; by Mathema∣ticall demonstrations, which cannot bee denied. Even as when wee say, If from two e∣quall parts wee take away two parts equall, the parts that remaine are also equall. And when they cannot understand this, as in truth they doe not, wee must demonstrate it to them with our hands, and lay it before their eyes, and yet for all this nought can a∣vaile to win them in the end to give credit to the verities of our Religion, which very termes and manner of proceeding I must use with thee, by reason that the desire which is sprung in thee, doth so wander and stray from all that which beares the shadow only of Reason, as I doubt much that I shall spend my time in vaine which I shall bestow to make thee understand thine owne simplicitie, for I will give it no other name at this pre∣sent, and in good earnest I was almost perswaded to leave thee in thine humor, in pu∣nishment of thine inordinate and unreasonable desire, but that the love which I beare towards thee doth not consent, I use to thee such rigour, or leave thee in so manifest a

danger of thine owne perdition. And that tho•• maist cleerely see it, tell mee Anselmo; hast not thou said unto mee that I must sollicite one that stands upon her reputation, perswade an honest woman, make proffers to one that is not passionate or engaged, and serve a discreete woman? Yes, thou hast said all this. Well then, if thou knowest al∣ready that thou hast a retyred, honest, unpassionate and prudent wife, what seekest thou more? And if thou thinkest that shee will rest victorious after all mine assaults, as doubtlesse she will, what better titles wouldest thou after bestow upon her then those shee possesseth already? Either it proceedes because thou dost not thinke of her as thou sayest, or else because thou knowest not what thou demandest. If thou dost not account her such as thou praysest her; to what end wouldest thou prove her? But ra∣ther as an evill person use her as thou likest best; but if shee bee as good as thou belee∣vest, it were an impertinent thing to make tryall of truth it selfe: For after it is made, yet it will still rest only with the same reputation it had before. Wherefore it is a con∣cluding reason; that to attempt things, whence rather harm may after result unto us then good, is the part of rash and discoursless braines, and principally when they deale with those things whereunto they are not compelled or driven, and that they see even a far off, how the attempting the like is manifest folly. Difficult things are undertaken for God, or the world, or both. Those that are done for God, are the workes of the Saints, en∣devoring to leade Angels lives in fraile and mortall bodies. Those of the World, are the travells and toyles of such as cross such immense seas, travell through so adverse Re∣gions, and converse with so many Nations, to acquire that which wee call the goods of Fortune. And the things acted for God and the world together, are the worthy ex∣ploits of resolute and valorous Martiall men, which scarce perceive so great a breach in the adversatie wall, as the common bullet is wont to make, when leaving all fear apart, without making any discourse, or taking notice of the manifest danger that threatens them, born away by the wings of desire and honour to serve God, their Nation and Prince, doe throw themselves boldly into the throat of a thousand menacing deaths which expect them.

These are things wont to bee practised, and it is honour, glory and profit to attempt them, bee they never so full of inconveniences and danger; but that which thou sayest thou wilt trie and put in practise, shall never gaine thee Gods glorie, the goods of for∣tune, or renoune among men; for suppose that thou bringest it to passe according to thine owne fantasie, thou shalt remaine nothing more contented, rich, or honourable then thou art already; and if thou dost not, then shalt thou see thy selfe in the greatest misery of any wretch living: for it will little availe thee then, to thinke that no man knowes the disgrace befaln thee, it being sufficient both to afflict and dissolve thee that thou knowest it thy self; and for greater confirmation of this truth, I will repeat unto thee a stanza of the famous Poet Lud••vice Tansil•• in the end of his first part of saint Pe∣ters teares, which is:

THE griefe increaseth, and withall the shame, In Peter when the day it self did show: And though hee no man sees, yet doth hee blame Himself, because hee had offended so, For brests, magnanimous not onely, tam•• When (that of others they are se••••e) they know: But of themselves asham'd they often bee, Though none but Heav'n and Earth their error see.

So that thou canst not excuse thy griefe with secrecie, bee it never so great, but rather shalt have continuall occasion to weepe, if not watry teares from thine eyes, at least teares of blood from thy heart, such as that simple Doctor wept, of whom our Poet makes mention, who made tryall of the Vessell, which the prudent Reynaldos upon ma∣turer discourse refused to deale withall: and although it bee but a Poeticall fixion, yet

doth it containe many hidden morals worthy to bee noted, understood and imitated: how much more, seeing that by what I mean to say now, I hope thou shalt begin to conceive the great error which thou wouldest wittingly commit.

Tell me, Anselmo, if Heaven or thy Fortunes had made thee Lord and lawfull possessor of a most precious Diamond, of whose goodnesse and qualitie all the Lapi∣daries that had viewed the same would rest satisfied, and that all of them would joyntly and uniformly affirm that it arived in quality, goodnesse and finenesse to all that, to which the nature of such a stone might extend it self; and that thou thy self didest believe the same without witting any thing to the contrarie; would it be just that thou shouldest take an humour to set that Diamond between an Anvile and a hammar and to trie there by very force of blows whether it be so hard & so fine as they say? And farther; when thou didest put thy designe in execution, put the case that the stone made resistance to thy foolish tryall, yet wouldest thou add thereby no new valour or esteem to it: And if it did break, as it might befall; were not then all lost? Yes cer∣tainly, and that leaving the Owner, in all mens opinion, for a very poor ignorant person. Then friend Anselmo, make account that Camila is a most precious Diamond as well in thine as in other mens estimation; and it is no reason to put her in contin∣gent danger of breaking, seeing that although shee remain in her integrity, she cannot mount to more worth then she hath at the present; and if she faltred, or did not re∣sist, consider even at this present, what state you would bee in then and how justly thou mightest then complain of thy self, for being cause of her perdition and thine own. See how there is no Jewell in the world comparable to the modest and chaste Woman; and that all Womens honour consists in the good opinion that's had of them: and seeing that of thy Spouse is so great, as it arrives to that sum of perfection which thou knowest; why wouldest thou call this verity in question? Know, friend, that a Woman is an imperfect Creature, and should therefore have nothing cast in her way to make her stumble & fall, but rather to cleer & doe all incumbrances away out of it, to the end shee may without impeachment run with a swift course to obtain the perfection shee wants, which only consists in being virtuous.

The Naturalists recount, that the Ermine is a little Beast that hath a most white skin; and that when the hunters would chase him, they use this art to take him: As soon as they finde out his haunt, and places where he hath recourse, they thwart them with mire and dirt, and after when they discrie the little Beast, they pursue him towards those places which are defiled; and the Ermine espying the mire, stands still, and per∣mits himself to be taken and captived in exchange of not passing thorow the mire, or staining of his whitenesse, which it esteems more then either liberty or life. The honest and chaste Woman is an Ermine, and the virtue of chastity is whiter and purer then Snow; and he that would not lose it, but rather desires to keep and preserve it, must proceed with a different stile from that of the Ermine: For they must not propose and lay before her the mire of the passions, flatteries and services of importunate Lovers; for perhaps she shall not have the naturall impulse and force which commonly through proper debility is wont to stumble, to passe over those incumbrances safely: and therefore it is requisite to free the passage and take them away, and lay before her the cleernesse of virtue, and the beauty comprized in good fame. The good woman is also like unto a bright and cleer mirrour of Crystall; and therefore is subject to bee stained and dimmed by every breath that toucheth it. The honest woman is to bee used as reliques of Saints, to wit, shee must be honoured but not touched. The good wo∣man is to be kept and prized like a fair Garden full of sweet Flowers and Roses, that is held in estimation, whose owner permits no man to enter and trample or touch his Flowers, but holds it to bee sufficient, that they standing a far off, without the rails, may joy at the delightfull sight and fragrancie thereof. Finally I will repeat certain Verses unto thee that have now come to my memorie, the which were repeated of late in a new Play, and seem to me very fit for the purpose of which wee treat. A prudent old man did give a neighbour of his that had a daughter counsell to keep and shut her up; and among many other reasons he used these.

TRuely Woman is of Glasse; Therefore no man ought to trie, If she broke or not might be, Seeing all might come to passe. Yet to break her 'tis more easie; And it is no wit to venter A thing of so brittle temper, That to Soulder is so queafie. And I would have all men dwell In this truth and reasons ground, That if Danaes may bee found, Golden showres are found as well.

All that which I have said to thee, Anselmo, untill this instant, hath been for that which may touch thy self: and it is now high time that somewhat bee heard concerning me: And if by chance I shall be somewhat prolixe, I pray thee to pardon me; for the Labyrinth wherein thou hast entred, and out of which thou wouldest have me to free thee, requires no lesse. Thou holdest me to bee thy friend, and yet goest about to dispoile me of mine honour, being a thing contrary to all amitie; and doest not only pretend this, but doest likewise indeavour that I should rob thee of the same, that thou wouldest deprive me of mine is evident; for when Camila shall perceive that I sollicite her as thou demandest, it is certain that shee will esteem of me as of one quite devoid of wit, and indiscreet, seeing I intend and doe a thing so repugnant to that, which the being that him I am and thine amitie doe binde me unto; that thou wouldest have me rob thee thereof is as manifest; for Camila seeing me thus to court her, must ima∣gine that I have noted some lightnesse in her which ••ent me boldnesse thus to discover unto her my depraved desires, and she holding her self to bee thereby injured and dishonoured, her disgrace must also concern thee as a principall part of her. And hence springs that which is commonly said, That the Husband of the Adulterous Wife, al∣though hee know nothing of her lewdnesse, nor hath given any occasion to her to doe what shee ought not, nor was able any way to hinder by dilligence, care, or other means, his disgrace, yet is intituled with a vituperious and vile name, and is in a manner beheld by those that know his Wifes mallice with the eyes of contempt; whereas they should indeed regard him rather with those of compassion, seeing that he falls into that misfortune not so much through his own default, as through the light fantasie of his wicked Consort. But I will shew thee the reason why a bad Womans Husband is justly dishonoured and contemned, although hee bee ignorant and guiltlesse thereof, and cannot prevent, nor hath given to it any occasion: And bee not grieved to heare mee, seeing the benefit of the discourse shall redound unto thy selfe.

When God created our first Parent in the terrestriall Paradise, the holy Scripture saith, That God infused sleep into Adam, and that being asleep, hee took out a rib out of his left side, of which he formed our Mother Eve; and as soon as Adam awaked and beheld her, hee said, This is flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bones: And God said, For this cause shall a man leave his Father and his Mother, and they shall bee two in one flesh: And then was the Divine Ordinance of Matrimonie first instituted, with such indissoluble knots, as only may bee by death dissolved: And this marvellous Or∣dinance is of such efficacie and force, as it makes two different persons to bee one very flesh; and yet operates farther in good married folk; For although they have two Souls, yet it makes them to have but one Will. And hence it proceeds, that by reason the Wifes flesh is one and the very same with her Husbands, the blemishes or defects that taint it; doe also redound into the Husbands, although hee (as wee have said) have ministred no occasion to receive that dammage. For as all the whol body feels any paine of the foot, head, or any other member, because it is all one flesh, & the head smarts at the grief of the Ankle, although it hath not caused it: So is the Husband participant of

his Wifes dishonour, because he is one and the self-same with her. And by reason that all the Honours and Dishonours of the world are, and spring from Flesh and Blood; and those of the bad woman be of this kinde, it is forcible, that part of them fall to the Husbands share, and that hee bee accounted dishonourable, although he wholly bee ignorant of it. See then, Anselmo, to what perill thou doest thrust they self by seeking to disturb the quietnesse and repose wherein thy Wife lives, and for how vain and im∣pertinent curiositie thou wouldest stir up the humours which are now quiet in thy chaste Spouses brest; note how the things thou doest adventure to gain are of small moment; but that which thou shalt lose so great, that I must leave it in his poynt, having no words sufficiently able to indeer it. But if all that I have said bee not able to move thee from thy bad purpose; thou mayest well seek out for some other in∣strument of thy dishonour and mis-haps; for I mean not to be one, although I should therefore lose thine amitie, which is the greatest losse that might any way befall mee.

Here the prudent Lothario held his peace, and Anselmo remayned so confounded and Melancholy, as hee could not answere a word to him for a very great while. But in the end hee said; I have listned friend Lothario, to all that which thou hast said unto mee, with the attention which thou hast noted, and have perceived in thy reasons, examples, and similitudes, the great discretion wherewithall thou art endowed, and the perfecti∣on of amitie that thou hast attained; and doe also confesse and see, that if I follow not thine advice, but should leane unto mine owne, I doe but shun the good, and pursue the evill. Yet oughtest thou likewise to consider, how herein I suffer the disease which some women are wont to have, that long to eate earth, lime, coles, and other far worse and lothsome things even to the very sight, and much more to the taste: So that it is behoovefull to use some art by which I may bee cured, and this might bee easily done by beginning only to sollic••te Camila although you did it but weake and feignedly; for I know shee will not bee so soft and pliable, as to dash her honestie about the ground, at the first encounters, and I will rest satisfied with this commencement alone: and thou shalt herein accomplish the obligation thou owest to our friendship, by not only resto∣ring mee to life, but also by perswading me not to dispoyle my selfe of mine honour. And thou art bound to doe this, for one reason that I shall alledge, to wit, that I being resolved, as indeed I am, to make this experience, thou oughtest not to permit, being my friend, that I should bewray my defect herein to a stranger, whereby I might very much endanger my reputation, which thou labourest so much to preserve, and though thy credit may lose some degrees in Camilaes opinion, whil'st thou dost sollicite her, it matters not very much, or rather nothing; for very shortly, when we shall espie in her the integritie that wee expect, thou maist open unto her sinceerly the drift of our pra∣ctise, by which thou shalt againe recover thine impayred reputation. Therefore seeing the Adventure is little, & the pleasure thou shalt doe me by the enterprizing thereof so, too great, I pray thee doe it, though ever so many incumbrances represent themselves to thee, for (as I have promised) with only thy begining, I will rest satisfied and account the cause concluded.

Lothario perceiving the firme resolution of Anselmo, and nothing else occurring for∣cibly disswasive, nor knowing what other reasons to use that might hinder this his pre∣cipitate resolution; and nothing withall, how hee threatned to breake the matter of this his indiscreete desires to a stranger; hee determined to avoide greater inconveniences, to give him satisfaction, and performe his demand, with purpose and resolution to guide the matter so discreetly, as without troubling Camilaes thoughts, Anselmo should rest contented, and therefore intreated him not to open his minde to any other, for he himselfe would undertake that enterprize, and begin it whensoever hee pleased. Ansel∣mo imbraced him very tender and lovingly, and gratified him as much for that promise, as if hee had done him some very great favour, and there they accorded betweene them, that hee should begin the work the very next day ensuing; for hee would give him place and leisure to speake alone with Camila, and would likewise provide him of Money, Jewels, and other things to present unto her. Hee did also admonish him to bring mu∣sick

under her windowes by night, and write verses in her prayse, and if hee would not take the paines to make them, hee himselfe would compose them for him. Lothario pro∣mised to performe all himselfe, yet with an intention far wide from Anselmoes; and with this agreement they returned to Anselmoes house, where they found Camila som∣what sad and carefull, expecting her husbands returne, who had stayed longer abroad that day then his custome. Lothario leaving him at his house returned to his owne, as pensive as hee had left Anselmo contented, and knew not what plot to lay, to issue out of that impertinent affaire with prosperous successe: But that night hee bethought himselfe of a manner how to deceive Anselmo without offending Camila; and so the next day ensuing hee came to his friends house to dinner, where Camila knowing the great good will her husband bore towards him, did receive and entertayne him very kindly with the like; dinner being ended, and the table taken up, Anselmo requested Lothario to keepe Camila companie untill his returne, for hee must needs goe about an affaire that concerned him greatly, but would returne againe within an houre and an halfe. Camila intreated her husband to stay, and Lothario proffered to goe and keepe him company, but nothing could prevaile with Anselmo, but rather hee impor∣tuned his friend Lothario to remayne and abide there till his returne, because hee must goe to treat of a matter of much consequence. Hee also commanded Camila not to leave Lothario alone untill hee came backe. And so hee departed, leaving Camila and Lothario together at the Table, by reason that all the attendants and servants were gone to dinner.

Here Lothario saw that hee was entred into the Lists which his friend so much desired, with his Adversary before him, who was with her beautie able to overcome a whole squadron of armed Knights; see then if Lothario had not reason to feare himselfe? but that which hee did at the first onset, was to lay his elbow on the arme of his chair and his hand on his cheek, and desiring Camila to bear with his respectlesnesse therein, he said he would repose a little whilest he attended Anselmo's comming. Camila an∣swered that shee thought hee might take his ease better on the Cushions of State; and therefore prayed him hee would enter into the Parlour and lie on them: But hee ex∣cused himself, and so remained asleep in the same place, untill Anselmo's return, who comming in, and finding his Wife in her Chamber and Lothario asleep, made full ac∣count, that by reason of his long stay, they had time enough both to talk and repose; and therefore expected very greedily the houre wherein his friend should awake, to goe out with him and learn what successe he had. All succeeded as hee wished; for Lothario arose, and both of them went abroad; and then he demanded of him, what hee desired: And Lothario answered that it seemed not to him so good to discover all his meaning at the first; and therefore had done no other thing at that time, then speak a little of her Beauty and Discretion; for it seemed to him that this was the best pre∣amble hee could use to gain by little and little some interest and possession in her ac∣ceptance, to dispose her thereby the better to give eare again to his words more wil∣lingly, imitating therein the Divells craft when hee means to deceive any one that is vigilant and carefull; for then he translates himself into an Angell of light, being one of darknesse, and laying before him apparent good, discovers what hee is in the end, and brings his intention to passe, if his guiles bee not at the beginning detected. All this did greatly like Anselmo, who said that hee would afford him every day as much lei∣sure, although he did not goe abroad; for hee would spend the time so at home as Camila should never bee able to suspect his drift.

It therefore befell that many dayes passed which Lothario did willingly overslip, and said nothing to Camila; yet did hee ever sooth Anselmo, and told him, that he had spoken to her, but could never win her to give the least argument of flexibilitie, or make way for the feeblest hope that might bee; but rather affirmed that shee threatned him, that if hee did not repell his impertinent desires, shee would detect his indirect proceedings to her husband. It is well, quoth Anselmo: Hitherto Camila hath re∣sisted words; it is therefore requisite to trie what resistance shee will make against works: I will give thee to morrow four thousand Crowns in gold, to the end thou

mayest offer, and also bestow them on her; and thou shalt have as many more to buy Jewells wherewithall to bait her; for Women are naturally inclined, and specially if they bee fair (bee they ever so chaste) to goe brave and gorgeously attired; and if shee can overcome this temptation, I will remain pleased, and put thee to no more trouble. Lothario answered, That seeing hee had begun, hee would bear his enterprize on to an end, although hee made full account that hee should depart from the conflict both tyred and vanquished. Hee received the four thousand crowns the next day, and at once with them four thousand perplexities, for hee knew not what to invent to lie anew; but concluded finally to tell his friend, how Camila was as inflexible at Gifts and Promises as at words; and therefore it would bee in vaine to tra∣vile any more in her pursuit, seeing hee should doe nothing else but spend the time in vain.

But Forturne, which guided these affairs in another manner, so disposed, that An∣selmo having left Lothario and Camila alone, as hee was wont, entred secretly into a chamber, and thorow the cranies and chinks did listen and see what they would doe; where hee perceived that Lothario, in the space of half an hour, spoke not a word to Camila, not yet would hee have spoken, though hee had remained there a whole age; and thereupon surmised straight that all that which his friend had told him of Camila's answers and his own speech, were but fictions and untruths; and that hee might the more confirm himself and see whether it were so, hee came forth, and calling Lothario apart, hee demanded of him what Camila had said, and in what humour shee was at the present? Lothario answered, That hee meant not ever any more to found her in that matter; for shee replyed unto him so untowardly and sharply, as hee durst not attempt any more to speak unto her of such things.

Oh, quoth Anselmo, Lothario, Lothario! how evill doest thou answer to the affe∣ction thou owest me, or to the confidence I did repose in thee? I have stood beholding thee all this while thorow the hole of that lock, and saw how thou never spokest one word to her: Whereby I doe also collect, that thou hast not yet once accosted her; and if it bee so, as doubtlesly it is, say, why doest thou deceive me? or why goest thou about fraudulently to deprive me of those means whereby I may obtain my desires? Anselmo said no more, yet what he said was sufficient to make Lothario confused and ashamed, who taking it to bee a blemish to his reputation to bee found in a lye, swore to Anselmo, That hee would from thence forward so indeavour to please his minde and tell him no more leasings, as hee himself might perceive the successe thereof, if hee did again curiously lye in watch for him; a thing which hee might well excuse, because him most serious labour to satisfie his desire should remove all shadow of suspi∣cion. Anselmo believed him, and that hee might give him the greater commoditie, and lesse occasion of fear, hee resolved to absent himself from his house some eight dayes, and goe to visit a friend of his that dwelled in a Village not far from the Cittie; and therefore dealt with his friend that hee should send a Messenger to call for him very earnestly, that under that pretext, hee might finde an excuse to Camila for his departure.

O infortunate and inconsiderate Anselmo! what is that which thou doest? what doest thou contrive? or what is that thou goest about? behold, thou workest thine own ruine, laying plots of thine own dishonour, and giving order to thy proper per∣dition. Thy wife Camila is good; thou doest possesse her in quiet and peaceable man∣ner; no man surpriseth thy delights; her thoughts transgresse not the limits of her house: Thou art her Heaven on earth, and the goale to which her desires aspire: Thou art the accomplishment and summe of her delectation: Thou art the Square by which shee measureth and directeth her will, adjusting wholy with thine and with that of Heaven. Since then the Mines of her Honour, Beautie, Modestie and Recollection, bountifully afford thee, without any toyle, all the treasures contained in them, or thou canst desire, why wouldest thou dig the earth and seek out new vains and new seen treasures, exposing thy self to the danger, that thy labours may turn to wrack, seeing in fine, that they are only susteined by the weak supporters of her fraile nature?

Remember how he that seeks the impossible, may justly be refused of that which is pos∣sible, according to that which the Poet saith:

IN Death for Life I seeke, Health in infirmitie: For issue in a Dung••on deep: In Iayles for Libertie, And in a Treachour Loyalty.

But envious-Fate, which still Conspires to worke mine ill, With Heav'n hath thus decreed, That easie things should be to mee deni'd, ••Cause I crave th'impossible.

Anselmo departed the next day following to the Village, telling Camila at his depar∣ture, that whil'st hee were absent, his friend Lothario would come and see to the affaires of his house, and to eate with her, and desired her therefore to make as much of him as shee would doe of his owne person. Camila, like a discreet and modest woman, was grieved at the order her husband did give to her, and requested him to render how indecent it was that any one should possesse the chayre of his Table, hee being absent, and if hee did it as doubting her sufficiency to manage his houshould affaires, that at least hee should make tryall of her that one time, and should cleerly perceive how shee was able to discharge matters of far greater consequence. Anselmo replyed, that what hee commanded was his pleasure, and therefore shee had nothing else to doe but hold downe her head and obey it. Camila answered that shee would doe so, although it were very much against her will. In fine her husband departed, and Lothario came the next day following to the house, where hee was entertayned by Camila very friendly, but would never treate with Lothario alone, but evermore was compassed by her ser∣vants and waiting Maidens, but chiefly by one called Leonela, whom shee loved deerly, as one that had been brought up with her in her fathers house, even from their in∣fancie, and when shee did marry Anselmo, shee brought her from thence in her com∣pany.

The first three dayes Lothario spoke not a word, although hee might, when the Ta∣bles were taken up, and that the folke of the house went hastily to dinner, for so Cami∣la had commanded, and did give Leonela order besides to dine before her selfe, and that shee should still keepe by her side; but the gyrle which had her fancie otherwise imploy∣ed in things more pleasing her humor, and needed those houres and times for the accom∣plishing of them, did not alwaies accomplish so punctually her Ladies command, but now and then would leave her alone, as if that were her Ladies behest. But the honest presence of Camila, the gravitie of her face, and the modestie of her carriage was such, that it served as a bridle to restraine Lotharioes tongue. But the benefit of Camilaes many virtues, seting silence to Lotharioes speech, resulted afterward to both their harmes; for though the tongue spoke not, yet did his thoughts discourse, and had lei∣sure afforded them to contemplate part by part, all the extremes of worth and beautie that were cumulated in Camila, potent to enflame a statue of frozen Marble, how much more a heart of flesh. Lothario did only behold her in the time and space hee should speake unto her, and did then consider how worthy shee was to be loved, And this consideration did by little and little give assaults to the respects which hee ought to have borne towards his friend Anselmo; a thousand times did hee determine to absent himselfe from the Citie, and goe where Anselmo should never see him, nor hee Camila; but the delight hee tooke in beholding her, did again withhold and hinder his resolutions. When hee was alone, hee would condemn himselfe of his madd designe, and term him∣selfe a bad friend and worse Christian, hee made discourses and comparisons betweene himselfe and Anselmo, all which did finish in this point that Anselmoes foole-hardinesse,

an•• madnesse was greater, then his owne infidelitie, and that if hee might bee as asily excused before God, for that hee meant to doe, as hee would bee be∣for men, hee needed not to fear any punishment should bee inflicted on him forthe crime. Finally Camilaes beautie and worths, assisted by the occasion whih the ignorant Husband had thrust into his fists, did wholy runine and overthrow Lot••ario his loyaltie; and therefore without regarding any other thing then that to whih his pleasure conducted him, about a three dayes after Anselmo's departure (w••••ch time hee had spent in a continuall battell and resistance of his contending tho••ghts) he began to sollicite Camila with such trouble of the Spirits and so amorous wo••ds, as shee was strucken almost beside her self with wonder, and made him no other ansver, but arising from the Table, flung away in a furie into her chamber. But yet for ill this drynesse, Lothario his hope (which is wont evermore to bee borne at once wi•• Love) was nothing dismayed, but rather accounted the more of Camila, who per••eiving that in Lothario which shee never durst before to imagine, knew not what she•• might doe; but it seeming unto her to bee a thing neither secure nor honest, to giv•• him occasion or leisure to speak unto him again, determined to send one unto her Husband Anselmo the very same night, as indeed shee did, with a Letter to recall him home to her house: The subject of her Letter was this.

CHAP. VII.

Wherein is prosecuted the Historie of the Curious-Im∣pertinent.

EVen, as it is commonly said, That an Armie seems not well without a Generall; or a Castle without a Con∣stable: So doe I affirm, That it is much more inde∣cent to see a young married Woman without her Hus∣band, when hee is not justly deteined away by necessa∣rie Affairs. I finde my self so ill-disposed in your absence, and so impatient and impotent to indure it longer, as, if you doe not speedily return, I shall bee constrained to return back unto my Father, although I should leave your house without any keeping: For the guard you appoint∣ed for me, if it bee so that hee may deserve that title, looks more, I believe to his own pleasure, then to that which concerns you; therefore seeing you have wit enough, I will say no more; nor ought I to say more in reason.

Anselmo received the Letter, and by it understood that Lothario had begun the en∣terprize, and that Camila had answered to him according as he had hoped: And mar∣vellous glad at the news, hee answered his wife by word of mouth, That shee should not remove in any wise from her house; for hee would return with all speed. Camila was greatly admired at his answer, which struck her into a greater perplexitie then shee was at the first, being afraid to stay at home, and also to goe to her Father. For by staying shee indangers her honesty; by going shee should transgresse her Husbands command: At last shee resolved to doe that which was worst, which was to remain

at home, and not to shun Lothario's presence, lest shee should give her Servants occa••ion of suspi••ion: and now shee was grieved to have written what shee did to her Husb••nd, fearfull lest hee should think that Lothario had noted in her some token of lightn••sse, which might have moved him to lose the respect which otherwise was due unto ••er: But confident in her innocencie, shee cast her hopes in God and her good thou••hts, wherewithall shee thought to resist all Lothario's words, and by holding her silent ••ith∣out making him any answer, without giving any further account of the matter t•• her Husband, lest thereby shee might plunge him in new difficulties and contention ••ich his friend, and did therefore bethink her how shee might excuse Lothario to Ansel∣mo, when hee should demand the occasion that moved her to write unto himthat Letter.

With these more honest then profitable or discreet resolutions, shee gave eare th•• se∣cond day to Lothario, who charged her with such resolution, as her constancie began to stagger, and her honesty had enough to doe recurring to her eyes to containe them, lest they should give any demonstration of the amorous compassion which Lotharioes words and teares had stirred in her brest. Lothario noted all this, and it inflamed him the more. Finally, hee thought that it was requisite the time and leisure which Ansel••oes absence afforded him, to lay closer siege to that Fortresse; and so hee assaulted her pre∣sumptuously, with the prayses of her beautie, for there is nothing which with such faci∣litie doth rend and raze to the ground the proudly-crested Turrets of womens vanitie, then the same vanitie being dilated on by the tongue of adulation and flatterie, To bee briefe, hee did with all diligence undermine the Rock of her integritie with so warlike Engines, as although Camila were made of brasse, yet would shee bee overthrown, for Lothario wept, intreated, promised, flattered, persisted and fained so feelingly, and with such tokens of truth, as traversing Cameliaes care of her honour, hee came in the end to triumph over that which was least suspected, and hee most desired; for she ren∣dred her selfe, even Camelia rendred her selfe. But what wonder if Lotharioes amitie could not stand on foote? A cleere example, plainly demonstrating that the amorous passion is only vanquished by shuning it, and that no body ought to adventure to wre∣stle with so strong an Adversarie; for heavenly forces are necessarie for him that would confront the violence of that passion, although humane. None but Leonela knew the weakenesse of her Ladie, for from her the two bad friends and new lovers could not conceale the matter; nor yet would Lothario discover to Camila her husbands pretence, or that he had given him wittingly the oportunity whereby he arived to that passe, be∣cause she should not imagine that he had gotten her lightly, and by chance, and did not purposely sollicite her.

A few dayes after Anselmo arrived to his house, and did not perceive what wanted therein, to wit, that which it had lost, and he most esteemed. From thence he went to see his friend Lothario, whom he found at home, and embracing one another, he demanded of him the news of his life or of his death, The news which I can give thee, friend Anselmo, quoth Lothario, are, that thou hast a wife, who may deservedly be the example and garland of all good women. The words that I spoke unto her, were spent on the ayre, my proffers contemned, and my gifts repulsed, and besides, she hath mock't mee notably for certain fained teares that I did shead. In resolution, even as Camila is the pattern of all beauty, so is she a treasury wherein modesty resides, courtesie and warinesse dwell, and all the other vertues that may beautifie an ho∣nourable woman, or make her fortunate. Therefore friend, take back thy money, for here it is ready, and I never had occasion to imploy it: for Camila's integrity cannot bee subdued with so base things as are gifts and promises. And Anselmo content thy selfe now with the proofes made already, without attempting to make any farther try∣all. And seeing thou hast past over the Sea of difficulties and suspicions with a drie foot, which may and are wont to bee had of women; doe not eftsoones enter into the pro∣found depths of new inconveniences, nor take thou any other Pilot to make experience of the goodnesse and strength of the Vessell that Heaven hath alotted to thee, to passe therein thorow the Seas of this world; but make account that thou art harboured in a

safe Haven, and there hold thy selfe fast with the Anchor of good consideration, and so rest thee untill death come to demand his debt, from the payment whereof no No∣bility or priviledge whatsoever can exempt us. Anselmo rested singularly satisfied at Lotharioes discourse, and did beleeve it as firmly as if it were delivered by an Oracle: but did intreate him notwithstanding to prosecute his attempt, although it were only done for curiositie, and to passe away the time; yet not to use so efficacious meanes as hee thitherto practised; and that hee only desired him to write some verses in her praise under the name of Clori, for hee would make Camila beleeve, that hee was enamoured on a certaine Lady, to whom hee did appropriate that name, that hee might celebrate her prayses with the respect due to her honour, and that if hee would not take the pains to invent them, that hee himselfe would willingly compose them. That is not needfull quoth Lothario, for the Muses are not so alienated from mee, but that they visite mee somtimes in the yeere. Tell you unto Camila what you have devised of my loves, and as for the verses, I will make them my selfe; if not so well as the subject deserves, yet at the least as artificially as I may devise them: The impertinent curious man and his trea∣cherous friend having thus agreed, and Anselmo returned to his house, hee demanded of Camila that which shee marvelled hee had not asked before, that shee should tell un∣to him the occasion why shee sent unto him the Letter? Camila made answer, Because it seemed unto her, that Lothario beheld her some what more immodest then when he was at home; but that now she did againe disswade her selfe, and be∣leeved that it was but a light surmise, without any ground, because that shee perceived Lothario to loath her presence, or be by any meanes alone with her. Anselmo told her that she might very well live secure for him, for that he knew Lothario's affections were bestowed else-where, and that upon one of the noblest Damzels of the Citie, whose praises hee solemnized under the name of Clori, and that although hee were not, yet was there no cause to doubt of Lothario's virtue, or the amitie that was between them both. Here if Camila had not been premonished by Lothario, that the love of Clori was but fained, and that hee himself had told it to Anselmo to blinde him, that hee might with lesse difficultie celebrate her own praises under the name of Clori, shee had without doubt faln into the desperate toyles of jealousie; but being already advertised shee posted over that assault lightly. The day following they three sitting together at dinner, Anselmo requested Lothario to repeat some one of the Verses that hee had made to his beloved Clori; for seeing that Camila knew her not, hee might boldly say what hee pleased. Although shee knew her quoth Lothario, yet would I not therefore suppresse any part of her praises. For when any Lover praiseth his Ladie for her beauty, and doth withall taxe her of cruelty, her credit incurs no danger. But befall what it list, I composed yesterday a Sonnet of the ingratitude of Clori, and is this ensuing.

A SONNET.

AMid'st the silence of the darkest night, When sweetest sleep invadeth mortall eyes; I poor account, to Heav'n and Clori bright, Give of the richest harmes, which ever rise. And at the time, wee Phoebus may devise, Shine through the roseal gates of th'Orient bright, With deep accents and sighs, in Wonted guise, I doe my Plaints renew, with main and might. And when the Sunne, down from his Starry seat, Directest rayes towards the earth doth send, My sighs I double and my sad regret: And night returns; but of my Woes no end: For I finde alwaies, in my mortall strife, Heav'n without eares, and Clori likewise deaf.

Camila liked the Sonnet very well, but Anselmo best of all; for hee praised it, and said, that the Lady must bee very cruell that would not answer such perspicuous truths with reciprocall affection. But then Camila answered, Why then (belike) all that which enamoured Poets say is true? In as much as Poets, quoth Lothario, they say not truth; but as they are inamoured, they remain as short as they are true. That is que∣stionlesse, quoth Anselmo, all to underprop and give Lothario more credit with Camila, who was as carelesse of the cause (her Husband said so) as shee was inamoured of Lothario; and therefore with the delight shee took in his compositions, but chiefly knowing that his desires and labours were addrest to her self, who was the true Clori, shee intreated him to repeat some other Sonnet or Dittie, if hee remembred any. Yes that I doe, quoth Lothario; but I believe that it is not so good as the first, as you may well judge; for it is this.

A SONNET.

I Die, and if I cannot bee believ'd, My death's more certain, as it is most sure To see me, a•• thy feet, of life depriv'd; Rather then grieve, this thraldome to indure. Well may I (in oblivious shades obscure) Of Glorie, Life, and Favour bee deny'd: And yet even there, shall in my bosome pure, The shape of thy fair face, iugrav'd, bee ey'd. For that's a relique, which I doe reserve For the last Trances, my contentions threaten. Which mid'st thy rigour doth it self preserve. O woe's the Wight, that is by tempests beaten By night, in unknown Seas, in danger rife, For want of North, or Hav'n to lose his life!

Anselmo commended also this second Sonnet as hee had done the first, and added by that means one link to another in the chain, wherewith hee intangled himself, and forged his own dishonour; seeing when Lothario dishonoured him most of all, hee said unto him then that hee honoured him most. And herewithall Camila made all the links, that verily served only to abase her down to the Center of contempt, seem to mount her in her Husbands opinion up to the height of virtue and good fame.

It befell soon after, that Camila finding her self alone with her Maiden, said to her, I am ashamed, friend Leonela, to see how little I knew to value my self, seeing that I made not Lothario spend some time at least in the purchasing the whole possession of me, which I, with a prompt will, bestowed upon him so speedily: I fear me that hee will impute my hastinesse to lightnesse, without considering the force hee used towards me, which wholly hindred and disabled my resistance. Let not that afflict you Madam, quoth Leonela; for it is no sufficient cause to diminish estimation, that that bee given quickly which is to bee given, if that in effect be good that is given, and be in it self worthy of estimation; for it is an old proverb, That hee that gives quickly, gives twice. It is also said as well, quoth Camila, That that which costeth little, is lesse esteemed. That reason hath no place in you, quoth Leonela, for as much as Love, according as some have said of it, doth sometimes flie, other times it goes; it runs with this man, and goes leisurely with the other; it makes some key-cold, and inflames others; some it wounds, and some it kills; it begins the Career of his desires in an instant, and in the very same concludes it likewise: It is wont to lay siedge to the Fortresse in the mor∣ning, and at night it makes it to yield, for there's no force able to resist it: which being so, what doe you wonder? or what is it that you fear, if the same hath befaln Lothario, seeing that Love made of my Lords absence an instrument to vanquish us? And it was

forcible, that in it wee should conclude on it which Love had before determined, with∣out giving time it self any time to lead Anselmo that hee might return, and with his presence leave the work imperfect: For Love hath none so officious or better a mini∣ster to execute his desires then is occasion: It serves it self of occasion in all his act, but most of all at the beginning: And all this that I have said I know rather by ex∣perience, then hear-say, as I will some day let you to understand: for, Madam, I am likewise made of flesh and lustie young blood: And as for you, Ladie Camila, you did not give up and yeeld your self presently, but stayed untill you had first seen in Lo∣thorio's eyes, his sighs in his discourses, in his promises, and gifts all his soul, in which and in his perfections, you might read how worthy hee is to bee loved. And seeing this is so, let not these scruples and nice thoughts assault or further disturb your minde, but perswade your self that Lothario esteems you as much as you doe him, and lives with content and satisfaction, seeing that it was your Fortune to fall into the amorous Snare, that it was his good luck to catch you with his valour and deserts; who not only hath the four S. S. which they say every good Lover ought to have, but also the whole A. A. C. which if you will not credit, doe but listen to me a while, and I will repeat it to you by roate. He is, as it seems, and as far as I can judge, Amiable, Bounti∣full, Courteous, Dutifull, Enamoured, Firm, Gallant, Honourable, Illustrious, Loyall, Milde, Noble, Honest, Prudent, Quiet, Rich, and the S. S. which they say; and besides True, Valourous: the X. doth not quader well with him, because it sounds harshly: Y. hee is Young; and the Z. hee is Zealous of thine honour. Camila laughed at her Maydens A. B. C. and accounted her to bee more practick in Love-matters then she her self had confessed, as indeed shee was; for then shee revealed to her Mistrisse, how she and a certain young man, well born, of the Citie, did treat of Love one with another. Hereat her Mistrisse was not a little troubled in minde, fearing that her honour might bee greatly indangered by that means; shee demanded whether her affection had passed farther then words? And the Maid answered very shamelesly and freely, that they did: for it is most certain, that this kinde of wretchlesse Mistrisses doe also make their Maydens carelesse and impudent; who when they perceive their Ladies to faulter, are commonly wont to hault likewise themselves, and care not that the World doe know it.

Camila seeing that errour past remedie, could doe no more but intreate Leonela, not to reveale any thing of their affaires to him shee said was her sweet heart, and that shee should handle her matters discreetly and secretly, lest they might come to Anselmo or Lotharioes notice. Leonela promised to performe her will; but did accomplish her pro∣mise in such sort, as shee did confirme Camilaes feares, that shee should lose her credit by her meanes. For the dishonest and bold Gyrle, after shee had perceived that her Mistrisses proceedings were not such as they were wont, grew so hardy, as shee gave entrance and brought her Lover into her Masters house, presuming that although her Ladie knew it, yet would shee not dare to discover it. For this among other harmes follow the sinns of Mistrisses, that it makes them slaves to their own servants, and doth oblige them to them to conceale their dishonest and base proceedings, as it fel out in Camila, who, although she espied Leonela, not once only, but sundry times together with her Lover in a certain chamber of the house, she not onely dared not to rebuke her for it, but rather gave her opportunity to hide him, and would remoove all occasion out of her husbands way, whereby he might suspect any such thing.

But all could not hinder Lothario from espying him once, as he departed out of the house at the break of the day: who not knowing him, thought at the first it was a spi∣rit, but when he saw him post away, and cast his cloke over his face, lest he should be known, he abandoning his simple surmise, fel into a new suspition which had overthrown them all, were it not that Camila did remedie it. For Lothario though, that he whom he had seen issue out of Anselmo's house at so unreasonable an hour, had not en∣tred into it for Leonela's sake, nor did he remember then that there was such a one as Leonela in the world, but onely thought, that as Camila was lightly gotten by him, so belike she was wonn by some other. For the wickednesse of a bad woman bringeth

usually all these additions, that she loseth her reputation even with him, to whom pray∣ed and perswaded shee yeeldeth her self: and he beleeveth that shee will as easily, or with more facility consent to others, and doth infallibly credit the least suspition which thereof may be offered.

And it seems that Lothario in this instant was wholly deprived of all reasonable dis∣course, and quite dispoyled of his understanding; for without pondering of the matter, impatient and kindled by the jealous rage that inwardly gnawed his bowels, fretting with desire to be revenged on Camila, who had never offended him, he came to Ansel∣mo before he was up, and said to him, Know, Anselmo, that I have had these many dayes a civill conflict within my self whether I should speak or no, and I have used as much vi∣olence as I might, to my selfe, not to discover a thing unto you, which now it is neither just nor reasonable I should conceale. Know that Camila's fortresse is rendred, and subject to all that I please to command, and if I have been somewhat slow to inform the this of truth: it was because I would first see, whether it proceeded of some light appetite in her: or whether she did it to trie me, and see whether that love was still con∣stantly continued, which I first began to make unto her by thy order and licence. I did also beleeve, that if she had been such as she ought to be, and her that we both esteemed her, she would have by this time acquainted you with my importunacy: but seeing that she lingers therein, I presume that her promises made unto me are true, that when you did again absent your self out of town, she would speak with me in the Ward∣robe (and it was true: for there Camila was accustomed to talke with him) yet would not I have thee runne rashly to take revenge, seeing the sinne is not yet otherwise com∣mitted then in thought, and perhaps between this and the oportunity shee might hope to put it in execution, her minde would bee changed, and shee repent her self of her folly: And therefore seeing thou hast ever followed mine advice partly or wholly, follow and keep one counsell that I will give unto thee now, to the end that thou mayest after, with carefull assurance, and without fraud, satisfie thine own will as thou likest best; faine thy self to bee absent two or three dayes as thou art wont, and then convey thy self cunningly into the Wardrobe, where thou mayest very well hide thy self behinde the Tapestry, and then thou shalt see with thine own eyes, and I with mine, what Camila will doe; and if it bee that wickednesse which rather ought to bee feared then hoped for, thou mayest with wisedome, silence, and discretion, bee the proper executio∣ner of so injurious a wrong.

Anselmo remained amazed, and almost besides himself, hearing his friend Lothario so unexpectedly to acquaint him with those things in a time whereing hee least expe∣cted them; for now hee esteemed Camila to have escaped victresse from the forged assaults of Lothario, and did himself triumph for glorie of her victorie. Suspended thus and troubled, hee stood silent a great while looking on the earth, without once removing his eye from it; and finally, turning towards his friend, hee said; Lothario, thou hast done all that which I could expect from so intire amitie, and I doe therefore mean to follow thine advice in all things precisely: Doe therefore what thou pleasest, and keep that secret which is requisite in so weighty and unexpected an event. All that I doe promise, quoth Lothario: and so departed wholly repented for that hee had told to Anselmo, seeing how foolishly hee had proceeded, since hee might have revenged himself on Camila very well, without taking a way so cruell and dishonourable. There did hee curse his little wit, and abased his light resolution, and knew not what means to use to destroy what hee had done, or give it some reasonable and contrary issue. In the end hee resolved to acquaint Camila with the whole matter, and by reason that hee never missed of oportunity to speake unto her, hee found her alone the very same day; and shee seeing likewise that shee had fit time to speak unto him, said, Know, friend Lo∣thario, that a certain thing doth pinch my heart in such manner, as it seems ready to burst in my brest, as doublesly I fear me that in time it will, if wee cannot set a remedie to it: For such is the immodesty of Leonela, as shee shuts up a Lover of hers every night in this house and remains with him untill day-light, which so much concernes my credit, as it leaves open a spacious field to him that sees the other goe out of my house at so

unseasonable times, to judge of me what hee pleaseth; and that which most grieves me is, that I dare not punish or rebuke her for it: For shee being privie to our proceedings, sets a bridle on me, and constrains me to conceale hers; and hence I fear will bad suc∣cesse befall us. Lothario at the first suspected that Camila did speak thus, to make him believe that the man whom hee had espied was Leonelaes friend, and none of hers: but seeing her to weep indeed, and bee greatly afflicted in minde, hee began at last to give credit unto the truth, and believing it, was greatly confounded and grieved for that hee had done: And yet notwithstand hee answered Camila, that shee should not trou∣ble or vexe her self any more; for hee would take such order, as Leonelaes impudencies should bee easily crost and suppressed: And then did recount unto her all that hee had said to Anselmo, spur'd on by th•• furious rage of jealous indignation, and how her Husband had agreed to hide himself behinde the Tapestry of the Wardrobe, that hee might from thence cleerly perceive the little Loyalty shee kept towards him, and demanded pardon of her for that folly and counsell to redresse it, and come safely out of the intricate Labyrinth whereinto his weake-eyed discourse had conducted him.

Camila having heard Lothario's discourse, was afraid and amazed, and with great anger and many and discrect reasons, did rebuke him, reviling the basenesse of his thoughts, and the simple and little consideration that hee had. But as women have naturally a suddain with for good or bad, much more prompt then men; although when indeed they would make discourses, it proves defective: So Camila found in an instant a remedy for an affair in appearance so irremediable and helplesse; and therefore bade Lothario to induce his friend Anselmo to hide himself the next day ensuing, for shee hoped to take commodity out of his being there for them both to enjoy one another with more security then ever they had before: and without wholy manifesting her proverb to him, shee only advertised him to have care, that after Anselmo were hidden hee should presently come when Leonela called for him, and that hee should answer her as directly to every question she proposed, as if Anselmo were not in place. Lothario did urge her importunately to declare her designe unto him, to the end hee might with more security and advice obscure all that was necessarie. I say, quoth Camila, there is no other observance to bee had, then only to answer me directly to what I shall de∣mand: For shee would not give him account before-hand of her determination, fearfull that hee would not conform himself to her opinion which shee took to bee so good; or else lest hee would follow or seek any other, that would not prove after so well. Thus departed Lothario and Anselmo, under pretext that hee would visit his friend, out of Town departed, and returned convertly back again to hide himself, which hee could doe the more commodiously, because Camila and Leonela did purposely afford him oportunity. Anselmo having hidden himself with the grief that may bee imagined one would conceive, who did expect to see with his own eyes an Anatomie made of the bowels of his honour, and was in danger to lose the highest felicitie that hee accounted himself to possesse in his beloved Camila. Camila and Leonela being certain that hee was hidden within the Wardrobe, entred into it, wherein scarce had Camila set her foot, when breathing forth of a deep sigh, shee spoke in this manner.

Ah friend Leonela! were it not better, that before I put in execution, that which I would not have thee to know, lest thou shouldest indeavour to hinder it, that thou takest Anselmo's Ponyard that I have sought of thee, and passe this infamous brest of mine thorow and thorow? but doe it not, for it is no reason that I should suffer for other mens faults: I will know first of all, what the bold and dishonest eyes of Lo∣thario noted in me, that should stir in him the presumption to discover unto me so un∣lawfull a desire as that which hee hath revealed, so much in contempt of his friend, and to my dishonour: Stand at that Window Leonela, and call him to me; for I doe infallibly believe, that hee stands in the street awaiting to effect his wicked pur∣pose: But first my cruell, yet honourable minde shall bee performed. Alas, dear Madame (quoth the wise and craftie Leonela) what is it you mean to doe with that

Ponyard? Meane you perhaps to deprive either your owne or Lotherioes life therewith∣all? for which soever of these things you doe, shall redound to the losse of your credit and fame. It is much better that you dissemble your wrong, and give no occasion to the bad man now to enter into this house, and finde us here in it alone: Consider good Madame, how wee are but weake women, and hee is a Man, and one resolute, and by reason that hee comes blinded by his bad and passionate intent, hee may peradventure before you bee able to put yours in execution, doe somwhat that would bee worse for you, then to deprive you of your life. Evill befall my master Anselmo, that ministers so great occasion to impudencie, thus to discover her visage in our house; and if you should kill him by chance Madam, as I suspect you meane to doe, what shall wee doe after with the dead carcasse? What said Camila? Wee would leave him here that An∣selmo might bury him. For hee must in all equity esteeme that labour for ease, which he shall passe, in the interring of his owne infamie. Make an end then and call him, for mee•• thinkes that all the time which I spend untakeing due revenge of my just Disdaine, turnes into the prejudice of the Loyaltie which I owe unto my Spouse.

Anselmo listened very attentively all the while, and at every word that Camila said, his thoughts changed. But when hee understood that shee was resolved to kill Lothario, hee was about to come out and discover himselfe, to the end that such a thing should not bee done; but the desire that hee had to see wherein so brave and honest a resoluti∣on would end, with-held him, determining then to sallie out, when his presence should bee needfull to hinder it. Camila about this time began to bee very weake and dismai'd, and casting her selfe, as if shee had faln into a trance upon a bed that was in the roome, Leonela began to lament very bitterly and to say, Alas, wretch that I am, how unfor∣tunate should I bee, if the flowre of the worlds honesty, the crown of good women, and the patterne of chastitie should die here betweene my hands? Those and such other things shee said so dolefully, as no one could heare her, that would not deeme her to bee one of the most esteemed and loyall Damzels of the world; and take her Ladie for another new and persecuted Penelope. Soone after Camila returned to her selfe, and said presently. Why goest thou not Leonela, to call the most disloyall friend of a friend that ever the Sun beheld, or the night concealed? Make an end, runne, make haste, and let not the fire of my choller bee through thy stay consumed and spent, nor the just revenge, which I hope to take, passe over in threats or maledictions. I goe to call him Madam, quoth Leonela, but first of all you must give mee that Ponyard, lest you should doe with it in mine absence somewhat, that would minister occasion to us your friends to deplore you all the daies of our lives. Goe away boldly, friend Leonela, said Ca∣mela, for I shall doe nothing in thine absence; for although I bee in thine opinion both simple and bold enough to turne for mine honour, yet meane I not to bee so much as the celebrated Lucretia, of whom it is recorded that shee slew her selfe, without having committed any errour or slaine him first who was the principall cause of her disgrace: I will die if I must needes die; but I will bee satisfied and revenged on him that hath given mee occasion to come into this place to lament his boldnesse, sprung without my default.

Leonela could scarcely be intreated to goe and call Lothario, but at last she went out, and in the mean time Camila remained, speaking to her self these words: Good God, had not it been more discretion to have dissmised Lothario, as I did many time before, then thus to possesse him as I have done, with an opinion that I am an evill and disho∣nest woman, at least all the while that passeth, untill mine acts shal undeceive him, and teach him the contrary? It had been doubtlesly better: but then should not I be re∣venged, nor my husbands honour satisfied, if hee were permitted to beare away so cleer∣ly his malignitie, or escape out of the snare wherein his wicked thoughts involved him. Let the Traytor pay with his lifes defrayment, that which hee attempted with so lasci∣uious a desire. Let the world know (if it by chance shall come to know it) that Ca∣mila did not only conserve the loyaltie due to her Lord, but also tooke revenge of the intended spoyle thereof: But yet I beleeve that it were best to give Anselmo first notice

thereof; but I did already touch it to him in the Letter which I wrote to him to the Village; and I believe his not concurring to take order in this so manifest an abuse pro∣ceeds of his too sincere and good meaning, which would not, nor cannot beleive that the like kinde of thought could ever finde entertainment in the brest of so firm a friend, tending so much to his dishonour: and what marvell if I my self could not credit it for a great many dayes together? nor would I ever have thought it if his insolencie had not arived to that passe which the manifest Gifts, large Promises, and continuall tears hee shed doe give testimony. But why doe I make now these discourses? Hath a gal∣lant resolution perhaps any need of advice? No verily; therefore avaunt treacherous thoughts, here wee must use revenge: Let the false man come in; arive; die and end, and let after befall what can befall. I entered pure and untouched to his possession whom Heaven bestowd on me for mine, and I will depart from him purely: And if the worst befall, I shall only be defiled by mine own chaste blood, and the impure gore of the falsest friend that ever amitie saw in this World. And saying of this, shee pranced up and down the Room with the Ponyard naked in her hand, with such long and un∣measurable strides, and making withall such gestures, as shee rather seemed defective of wit, and a desperate Russian then a delicate woman.

All this Anselmo perceived very well from behinde the Arras that covered him, which did not a little admire him; and hee thought that what he had seen and heard was a sufficient satisfaction of farre greater suspicions then he had, and could have wished with all his heart that the triall of Lothario's comming might bee excused, fearing greatly some suddain bad successe: and as hee was ready to manifest himself, and to come out and imbrace and disswade his wife, hee withdrew himself, be∣cause hee saw Leonela return, bringing Lothario in by the hand: And as soon as Camila beheld him, shee drew a great stroke with the poynt of the Ponyard athwart the Ward∣robe, saying; Lothario, note well what I mean to say unto thee; for if by chance thou beest so hardy as to passe over this line which thou seest, e're I come as farre as it, I will in the very same instant stab my self into the heart with this Ponyard which I hold in my hand: and before thou doest speak or answer me any word, I would first have thee to listen to a few of mine; for after thou mayest say what thou pleasest.

First of all I would have thee, O Lothario! to say whether thou knowest my Hus∣band Anselmo, and what opinion thou hast of him? And next I would have thee to tell me if thou knowest my self? answer to this without delay, nor doe not stand long thinking on what thou art to answer, seeing they are no deep questions which I pro∣pose unto thee. Lothario was not so ignorant, but that from the very beginning when Camila requested him to perswade her Husband to hide himself behinde the Tapistrey, hee had not fallen on the drift of her invention; and therefore did answer her inten∣tion so aptly and discreetly as they made that untruth passe between them for a more then manifest verity: and so hee answered to Camila in this forme. I did never con∣jecture, Beautifull Camila, that thou wouldest have called me here to demand of me things so wide from the purpose for which I come: if thou doest it to defer yet the promised favour, thou mightest have entertained it yet farther off, for the good de∣sired afflicteth so much the more, by how much the hope to possesse it is neer. But be∣cause thou mayest not accuse me for not answering to thy demands, I say that I know thy Husband Anselmo, and both of us know one another even from our tender in∣fancie, and I will not omit to say that which thou also knowest of our amity, to make me thereby a witnesse against my self of the wrong which Love compells me to doe unto him, yet Love is a sufficient excuse and excuse of greater errous then are mine. Thee doe I likewise know and hold in the same possession that hee doth; for were it not so, I should never have been won by lesse perfections then thine, to transgresse so much that which I owe to my self and to the holy Laws of true Amity, now broken and violated by the tyrannie of so powerfull an Adversary as Love hath proved. If thou doest acknowledge that, replyed Camila, O mortall enemie of all that which justly deserveth Love! with what face darest thou then appear before that which thou know∣est to bee the Mirrour wherein hee looks, in whom thou also oughtest to behold thy∣selfe,

to the end thou mightest perceive upon how little occasion thou dost wrong him? But unfortunate that I am, I fall now in the reason which hath moved thee to make so little account of thine owne duty, which was perhaps some negligent or light behavi∣our of mine, which I will not call dishonesty, seeing that as I presume, it hath not pro∣ceeded from mee deliberately, but rather through the carelessnesse that women which thinke they are not noted, doe sometimes unwittingly commit. If not, say Traytor, when did I ever answere thy Prayers with any world or token that might awake in thee the least shadow of hope to accomplish thine infamous desires? When were not thine a∣morous intreaties reprehended and dispersed by the roughnesse and rigour of mine an∣sweres? When were thy many promises and lager gifts ever beleeved or admitted? But for as much as I am perswaded that no man can persevere long time in the amorous contention, who hath not beene susteined by some hope, I will attribute the fault of thine impertinence to my selfe; for doubtlesly some carelesnesse of mine hath hitherto susteined thy care, and therefore I will chastise and give to my selfe the punishment which thy fault deserveth. And because thou mightest see that I being so inhumane to∣wards my selfe, could not possibly bee other then cruell to thee, I thought fit to call thee to bee a witnesse of the Sacrifice which I meane to make to the offended honour of my most honourable husband, tainted by thee, with the blackest note that thy malice could devise, and by me, through the negligence that I used, to shun the occasion, if I gave thee any, thus to nourish and canonize thy wicked intentions. I say againe, that the suspicion I have, that my little regard hath ingendred in thee these distracted thoughts, is that which afflicteth mee most, and that which I meane to chastise most with mine owne hands; for if another executioner punished mee, then should my crime become more notorious. but before I doe this, I dying, will kill, and carie him away with mee, that shall end and satisfie the greedie desire of revenge which I hope for, and I have; seeing before mine eyes wheresoever I shall goe, the punishment which disingaged justice shall inflict, it still remayning unbowed or suborned by him, which hath brought me to so desperate termes.

And having said these words, shee flew upon Lothario with incredible force and lightnesse, and her Ponyard naked, giving such arguments and tokens that shee meant to stab him, as hee himselfe was in doubt whether her demonstrations were false or true; wherefore hee was driven to helpe himselfe by his wit and strength, for to hinder Cami∣la from striking of him, who did so lively act her strange guile and fiction, as to give it colour, shee would give it a blush of her owne blood: for perceiving, or else feighning that shee could not hurt Lothario, shee said, Seeing that adverse fortune will not satis∣fie throughly my just desires, yet at least it shall not bee potent wholly to crosse my de∣signes: and then striving to free the dagger hand, which Lothario held fast, shee snatch∣ed it away, and directing the point to some place of her body, which might hurt her, but not very grievously, shee stab'd her selfe, and hid it in her apparell neere unto the left shoulder, and fell forthwith to the ground, as if shee were in a trance, Lothario and Leonela stood amazed at the unexpected event, and still rested doubtfull of the truth of the matter, seeing Camila to lye on the ground bathed in her blood: Lotha∣rio ranne all wanne and pale, very hastily to her, to take out the Ponyard, and seeing how little blood followed, hee lost the feare that hee had conceived of her greater hurt, and began a new to admire the cunning wit and discretion of the beautifull Camila; but yet that hee might play the part of a friend, hee began a long and dolefull lamenta∣tion over Camila's body, even as she were dead, and began to breathe forth many cur∣ses and execrations not onely against himself, but also against him that had imployed him in that unfortunate affaire. And knowing that his friend Anselmo did listen unto him, he said such things as would move a man to take more compassion of him then of Camila her selfe, although they accounted her dead. Leonela tooke her up betweene her armes, and laid her on the Bed, and intreated Lothario to goe out, and finde some one that would undertake to cure her secretly. Shee also demanded of him his advice, touching the excuse they might make to Anselmo concerning her Mistresse her wound, if hee came to towne before it were fully cured.

Hee answered, that they might say what they pleased, for hee was not in an humour of giving any counsell worth the following; and only said this, that shee should labour to stanch her Ladies blood; for he meant to goe there whence they should hear no news of him ever after: And so departed out of the house with very great tokens of grief and feeling; and when hee was alone in place where no body perceived him, hee blest him∣self a thousand times to think of Camilaes art, and the gestures so proper and accom∣modated to the purpose, used by her Maid Leonela. Hee considered how assured An∣selmo would remain that hee had a second Portia to wife, and desired to meet him, that they might celebrate together the fiction, and the best dissembled truth that could bee ever imagined. Leonela, as is said, stanched her Ladies blood, which was just as much as might serve to colour her invention and no more; and washing the would with some Wine, shee tyed it up the best that shee could, saying such words whilest shee cured her as were able, though nothing had been done before, to make Anselmo be∣lieve that hee had an Image of honestly in Camila to the plants of Leonela: Camila added others, terming her self a Coward of base Spirit since shee wanted time (being a thing so necessary) to deprive her life which shee hated so mortally; shee demanded counsell of her Maiden, whether shee would tell or conceal all that successe to her be∣loved Spouse: And shee answered, That it was best to conceal it, lest shee should in∣gage her Husband to bee revenged on Lothario, which would not bee done without his very great perill, and that every good Wife was bound, not to give occasion to her Husband of quarrelling, but rather to remove from him as many as was possible. Camila answered, That shee allowed of her opinion, and would follow it; and that in any sort they must studie some device to cloak the occasion of her hurt from An∣selmo, who could not chuse but espye it. To this Leonela answered, That shee her self knew not how to lye, no, not in very jest it self. Well friend, quoth Camila, and I, what doe I know? for I dare not to forge or report an untruth if my life lay on it: And if wee know not how to give it a better issue, it will bee better to report the naked truth then to bee overtaken in a leasing. Doe not trouble your self Madame, quoth Leonela; for I will bethink my self of somewhat between this and to morrow morn∣ing, and perhaps the wound may be concealed from him•• by reason that it is in the place where it is; and Heaven perhaps may bee pleased to favour our so just and honourable thoughts. Bee quiet, good Madam, and labour to appease your alteration of minde, that my Lord at his return may not finde you perplexed; and leave all the rest to Gods and my charge, who doth allwaies assist the just.

With highest attention stood Anselmo listening and beholding the Tragedy of his dying honours, which the personages thereof had acted with so strange and forceable effects, as it verily seemed that they were transformed into the opposite truth of their well contrived fiction: Hee longed greatly for the night and leisure to get out of his house, that hee might goe and congratulate with his good friend Lothario, for the pre∣cious Jewell that hee had found in this last tryall of his Wife. The Mistrisse and Maiden had as great care to give him the oportunity to depart; and hee fearing to lose it, issued out in a trice, and went presently to finde Lothario, who being found, it is not possible to recount the imbracements hee gave unto him, the secrets of his contentment that hee revealed, or the attributes and praises that hee gave to Camila. All which Lothario heard, without giving the least argument of Love; having represented to his minde at that very time, how greatly deceived his friend lived, and how injustly hee himself injuried him. And although that Anselmo noted that Lothario took no delight at his relation, yet did hee believe that the cause of his sorrow proceeded from having left Camila wounded, and hee himself given the occasion thereof: And therefore among many other words, said unto him, That there was no occasion to grieve at Ca∣milaes hurt, it doubtlesly being but light, seeing shee and her Maid had agreed to hide it from him; and that according unto this there was no great cause of fear, but that from thence forward hee should live merrily and contentedly with him, seeing that by his industry and means, hee found himself raised to the highest felicitie that might bee desired; and therefore would from thenceforth spend his idle times in writing of

Verses in Camila's praise, that hee might eternize her name, and make it famous in insuing ages. Lothario commended his resolution therein, and said that hee for his part would also help to raise up so noble an edefice; and herewithall Anselmo rested the most soothingly and contentedly deceived that could be found in the World: And then himself took by the hand to his house (believing that hee bore the instrument of his glory) the utter perdition of his fame. Camila entertained him with a frowning countenance, but a cheerfull minde: the fraud rested unknown a while, untill at the end of certain moneths, Fortune turned the wheel, and the wickednesse that was so ar∣tificially cloaked, issued to the publique notice of the World; and Anselmo his imper∣tinent-curiosity cost him his life.

CHAP. VIII.

Wherein is ended the History of the Curious-Impertinent: And like∣wise recounted the rough Incounter and Conflict passed betweene Don-Quixote and certain baggs of red Wine.

A Little more of the novell did rest unread, when Sancho Panca all per∣plexed ranne out of the Chamber where his Lord reposed, crying as loud as he could, Come, good Sirs, speedily, and assist my Lord, who is ingaged in one of the most terrible battails that ever mine eyes have seen: I swear that hee hath given such a blow to the Giant, my Lady the Princesse Micomicona her enemie, as hee hath cut his head quite off as round as a Turnep.

What sayest thou friend, quoth the Curate (leaving off at that word to prosecute the reading of his novell) art thou in thy wits Sancho? What a Divill man, how can that bee, seeing the Giant dwels at least two thousand leagues from hence? By this they heard a marvellous great noyse within the Chamber, and that Don-Quixote cried out aloud, Stay false Thiefe, Robber, stay; for since thou art here, thy Semiter shall but little availe thee: and therewithall it seemed that hee struck a number of mighty blows on the walls. And Sancho said, There is no need tostand thus listening abroad, but rather that you goe in and part the fray, or else assist my Lord; although I think it bee not very necessary: for the Gyant is questionlesse dead by this, and giving account for the ill life hee led: For I saw his blood runne all about the house, and his head cut off, which is as great as a great Wine-bagge. I am content to bee hewn in pieces, quoth the Inn-keeper, hearing of this, if Don-Quixote or Don-Divell have not given some blow to one of the Wine-baggs that stood filled at his Beds-head, and the shed Wine must needs bee that which seems blood to this good man: And saying so, hee entred into the Room, and all the rest followed him, where they found Don-Quixote in the strangest guise that may bee imagined: Hee was in his Shirt, the which was not long enough before to cover his Thighs, and it was six fingers shorter behinde: His Leggs were very long and lean, full of hair, and horrible dirty: Hee wore on his Head a little red, but very greazie night Cap, which belonged to the Inn-keeper: Hee had wreathed on his left Arme the Coverlet of his Bead; on which Sancho looked very often and angerly, as one that knew well the cause of his own malice to it: and in his right hand hee griped his naked Sword, wherewithall hee laid round about him many a thwack; and withall spake as if hee were in battail with some Gyant: And the best of all was, that hee held not his eyes open; for hee was indeed asleep and dreaming that he was in fight with the Gyant: For the imagination of the Adventure which hee had undertaken to finish, was so bent upon it, as it made him to dream that hee was already

arived at the kingdom of Micomicon, and that he was then in combat with his enemy, and he had given so many blowes on the wine bags, supposing them to be Giants, as all the whol chamber flowed with wine: Which being perceived by the Host, all infla∣med with rage, hee set upon Don-Quixote with drie sists, and gave unto him so many blowes, that if Cardenio and the Curate had not taken him away, he would doubtlesly have finished the war of the Gyant, and yet with all this did not the poor Knight awake untill the Barber brought in a great kettle full of cold water from the Well, and threw it all at a clap upon him, and therewithall Don-Quixote awaked, but not in such sort as he perceived the manner wherein he was. Dorotea seeing how short and how thin her Champion was arayed, would not goe in to see the conflict of her combatant and his Adversarie.

Sancho went up and downe the floore searching for the Gyants head, and seeing that hee could not finde it hee said, Now I doe see very well, that all the things of this house are inchantments, for the last time that I was here, in this very same roome, I got many blowes and buffets, and knew not who did strike mee, nor could I see any body; and now the head appeares not, which I saw cut off with mine owne eyes, and yet the blood ran as swiftly from the body, as water would from a Fountaine. What blood, or what Fountaine doest thou tattle of here, thou enemy of God and his Saints? quoth the In-keeper, thou Theefe, dost not thou see that the blood and the fountaine is no other thing then these wine-bags which are slashed here, and the wine red that swims up and down this Chamber (and I wish that I may see his Soule swimming in hell which did bore them. I know nothing replyed Sancho but this, that if I cannot find the Giants head, I shall become so unfortunate, as mine Earledome will dissolve like Salt cast into water. And certes Sancho awake, was in worse case then his Master sleeping, so much had his Lords promises distracted him. The In-keeper on the other side was at his wits end, to see the humor of the Squire, and unhappinesse of his Lord, and swore that it should not succeede with them now as it had done the other time, when they went away without payment: and that now the priviledges of Chi∣valrie should not any whit availe him, but hee should surely pay both the one and the other, yea even for the very patches that were to bee set on the bored Wine∣bagges.

The Curate held fast Don-Quixote by the hands, who beleeving that hee had a••chie∣ved the Adventure, and was after it come into the Princesse Micomicona her presence, hee laid himselfe on his knees before the Curate saying,

Well may your greatnesse high and famous Ladie, live from henceforth secure from any danger, that this unfor∣tunate wretch may doe unto you; and I am also freed from this day forward from the promise that I made unto you, seeing I have, by the assistance of the heavens, and through her favour by whom I live and breathe, so happily accomplished it.

Did not I say so quoth Sancho, hearing of his Master? yea, I was not drunke; see if my Master hath not powdred the Gyant by this? the matter is questionlesse, and the Earle∣dome is mine owne. Who would not laugh at these raving fits of the Master and man? all of them laughed save the In-keeper, who gave himself for anger to the Devill more then a hundred times. And the Barber, Cardenio and the Curate got Don-Quixote to bed againe, not without much adoe, who presently fell a sleepe with tokens of marvei∣lous wearinesse, They left him sleeping and went out to comfort Sancho Panca for the griefe hee had, because he could not finde the Giants head; but yet had more adoe to pacifie the In-keeper, who was almost out of his wits for the unexpected and suddaine death of his wine-bags.

The Oast••sse on the other side went up and down whining and saying, in an ill season and an unlucky houre did this Knight errant enter into my house, alas; and I would that mine eyes had never seene him seeing hee costs mee so deere. The last time that hee was here, hee went away scot-free for his Supper, Bed, Straw and Barley, both for himselfe and his man, h••s Horse and his Asse, saying that hee was a Knight Adventu∣rous (and God give to him ill venture, and to all the other Adventurers of the world) and was not therefore bound to pay any thing, for so it was written in the Statutes of

Chivalry. And now for his cause came the other Gentleman, and tooke away my good tayle, and hath returned it mee backe, with two quarters of dammage, for all the haire is falln off, and it cannot stand my husband any more in stead for the purpose hee had it; and for an end and conclusion of all, to breake my wine-bags and shed my wine; I wish I may see as much of his blood shed: And doe not thinke otherwise, for by my fathers old bones, and the life of my mother, they shall pay mee every doit, one quart upon another, or else I will never bee called as I am, nor bee mine owne fathers daughter.

These and such like words spake the Inn-keepers Wife with very great furie, and was seconded by her good Servant Maritornes. The Daughter held her peace, and would now and then smile a little: But Master Parson did quiet and pacifie all, by promi∣sing to satisfie them for the dammages as well as hee might, as well for the Wine as for the Baggs, but chiefly for her tail, the which was so much accounted of and valued so highly. Dorotea did comfort Sancho, saying to him, that whensoever it should bee verified that his Lord had slain the Gyant, and established her quietly in her Kingdome, shee would bestow upon him the best Earldome thereof. With this hee took courage and assured the Princesse, that hee himself had seen the Gyants head cut off; and for a more certain token thereof, hee said, That hee had a beard that reached him down to his girdle; and that if the Head could not now bee found, it was by reason that all the Affairs of that house were guided by inchantment, as hee had made experience to his cost the last time that hee was lodged therein. Dorotea replyed, That shee was of the same opinion, and bade him to bee of good cheer, for all would bee well ended to his hearts desire. All parties being quiet, the Curate resolved to finish the end of his novell because hee perceived that there rested but a little unread thereof. Car∣denio, Dorotea, and all the rest intreated him earnestly to finish it. And hee de∣siring to delight them all herein and recreate himself, did prosecute the Tale in this manner.

It after befell, That Anselmo grew so satisfied of his Wifes Honestie, as hee led a most contented and secure life: And Camila did for the nonce look sowrely upon Lothario, to the end Anselmo might construe her minde amisse: And for a greater confirmation thereof Lothario requested Anselmo to excuse his comming any more to his house, seeing that hee cleerly perceived how Camila could neither brook his company nor presence. But the hood-wink'd Anselmo answered him, That hee would in no wise consent thereunto; and in this manner did weave his own dishonour a thousand waies, thinking to work his contentment. In this season such was the delight that Leonela took also in her affections, as shee suffered her self to bee borne away by them head∣longly, without any care or regard confident because her Lady did cover it, yea, and sometimes instructed her how shee might put her desires in practice without any fear or danger. But finally Anselmo heard on a night some body walk in Leonelaes Cham∣ber, and being desirous to know who it was, as hee thought to enter, hee felt the door to bee held fast against him, which gave him a greater desire to open it; and therefore hee strugled so long, and used such violence, as hee threw open the door and entred just at the time that another leaped out at the Window; and therefore hee ran out to overtake him, or see wherein hee might know him; but could neither compasse the one or the other, by reason that Leonela embracing him hardly, with-held him and said, Pacifie your self, good Sir, and bee not troubled, nor follow him that was here; for hee is one that belongs to me, and that so much, as hee is my Spouse. Anselmo would not believe her, but rather blinde with rage, hee drew out his Ponyard and would have wounded her, saying, That shee should presently tell him the truth, or else hee would kill her. Shee distracted with fear, said, without nothing her own words, Kill me not Sir, and I will acquaint you with things which concern you more then you can imagine. Say quickly then, quoth Anselmo, or else thou shalt die. It will bee impossible, replied Leonela, for me to speak any thing now I am so affrighted; but give respit till morn∣ing and I will recount unto you things that will marvellously astonish you; and in the mean time rest secure, that hee which leaped out of the Window is a young man of this

Citie, betwixt whom and me hath passed a promise of marriage. Anselmo was some∣what satisfied by these words; and therefore resolved to expect the terme which shee had demanded to open her minde; for hee did not suspect that hee should hear any thing of Camila, by reason hee was already so assured of her Virtue: and so depart∣ing out of the Chamber, and shutting up Leonela therein, threatning her withall, That shee should never depart thence, untill shee had said all that shee promised to reveal unto him. Hee went presently to Camila, to tell unto her all that which his Mayden had said and the promise shee had passed, to disclose greater and more important things. Whether Camila hearing this were perplexed or no, I leave to the discreet Readers judgement: for such was the fear which shee conceived, believing certainly (as it was to be doubted) that Leonela would tell to Anselmo all that shee knew of her disloy∣alty, as shee had not the courage to expect and see whether her su••mise would become false or no: But the very same night, as soon as shee perceived Anselmo to bee asleep, gathering together her best Jewels and some Money, shee departed out of her House unperceived of any, and went to Lothario's lodging, to whom shee recounted all that had past, and requested him either to leave her in some safe place, or both of them to depart to some place where they might live secure out of Anselmo's reach. The con∣fusion that Cimila struck into Lothario, was such as he knew not what to say, and much less how to resolve himself what he might do. But at last he determined to carry Camila to a Monastery wherein his sister was Prioresse; to which shee easily coudescended; and therefore Lothario departed and left her there with all the speed that the case re∣quired, and did also absent himself presently from the Citie, without acquainting any body with his departure.

Anselmo, as soon as it was day, without heeding the absence of his Wife, arose and went to the place where hee had shut up Leonela, with desire to know of her what shee had promised to acquaint him withall: Hee opened the Chamber door and entred, but could finde no body therein but some certain sheets knit together and tied to the window as a certain signe how Leonela had made an escape by that way: Wherefore hee returned very sad to tell to Camila the adventure; but when hee could neither finde her at bed nor in the whole house, hee remained astonied, and demanded, for her of his Servants, but none of them could tell him any thing. And as hee searched for her, hee hapned to see her Coffers lye open and most of her Jewels wanting; and herewithall fell into the true account of his disgrace, and that Leonela was not the cause of his misfor∣tune, and so departed out of his house sad and pensive, even as hee was, half ready and unapparrelled, to his friend Lothario to recount unto him his disaster: but when hee found him to bee likewise absented, and that the Servants told him how their Ma∣ster was departed the very same night and had borne away with him all his Money, hee was ready to runne out of his wits. And to conclude, hee returned to his own house again, wherein he found no ceature, man or woman, for all his folk were departed, and had left the house alone and desart: Hee knew not what hee might think, say, or doe; and then his judgement began to faile him. There hee did contemplate and behold himself in an instant without a Wife, a Friend, and Servants; abandoned (to his seem∣ing) of Heaven that covered him, and chiefly without honour; for hee cleerly noted his own perdition in Camilaes crime. In the end hee resolved, after hee had bethought himself a great while, to goe to his friends Village wherein hee had been all the while that hee afforded the leisure to contrive that disaster: And so shutting up his house hee mounted a horseback, and rode away in languishing and dolefull wise: And scarce had hee ridden the half way when hee was so fiercely assaulted by his thoughts, as hee was constrained to alight, and tying his Horse to a Tree, hee leaned himself to the trunck thereof and breathed out a thousand pittifull and dolorous sighs; and there hee abode untill it was almost night, about which hour espyed a man to come from the Citie a Horse-back by the same way, and having saluted him, hee demanded of him what news hee brought from Florence? The Citizen replyed, The strangest that had hapned there many a day: For it is there reported publiquely, That Lothario the great friend of the rich man, hath carried away the said Anselmo's Wife Camila this night;

for shee is also missing: all which a Waiting-maid of Camilaes hath confest, whom the Governour apprehended yesternight as shee slipt down at a window by a pair of sheets out of the said Anselmo's house. I know not particularly the truth of the Affair, but well I wot that all the Citie is amazed at the accident; for such a fact would not bee as much as surmized from the great and familiar amitie of them two, which was so much as they were called The two friends. Is it perhaps yet known, replyed Anselmo, which way Lothario and Camila have taken? In no wise, quoth the Citizen, although the Governour hath used all possible diligence to finde them out. Farewell then, good Sir, said Anselmo. And with you Sir, said the Traveller: And so departed.

With these so unfortunate news poore Anselmo arived, not only to termes of losing his wits, but also well nigh of losing his life; and therefore arising as well as hee might, hee came to his friends house, who had heard nothing yet of his disgrace; but percei∣ving him to arive so wan, pined and dried up, hee presently conjectured that some grie∣vous evill afflicted him. Anselmo requested him presently that hee might bee caried to his Chamber, and provided of paper and inke to write withall: all was done, and hee left in bed, and alone, for so hee desired them; and also that the dore should bee fast locked: And being alone, the imagination of his misfortune gave him such a terrible charge, as hee cleerely perceived that his life would shortly faile him, and therefore re∣solved to leave notice of the cause of his suddaine and unexpected death; and therefore hee began to write it; but before hee could set an end to his discourse, his breath fayled, and hee yeelded up his life into the hands of sorrow, which his impertinent curiositie had stirred up in him. The Gentleman of the house seeing that it grew late, and that Anselmo had not called, determined to enter, and know whether his indisposition pas∣sed forward, and hee found him lying on his face, with halfe of his body in the bed, and the other half leaning on the table whereon he lay, with a written paper unfolded, and held the pen also yet in his hand. His Oast drew neere unto him, and first of all, having called him he took him by the hand; and seeing that he answered not, and that it was cold, he knew that he was dead; and greatly perplexed and grieved thereat, he called in his people, that they might also be witnesses of the disastrous successe of Anselmo, and after all he took the paper and read it, which he knew to be written with his own hand the substance whereof was this:

A Foolish and Impertinent Desire hath dispoyled me of Life. If the newes of my Death shall arrive to Camila, let her also know that I doe pardon her, for shee was not bound to worke Miracles; nor had I any neede to desire that she should worke them. And seeing I was the builder and contriver of mine owne dishonour, there is no reason—

Hitherto did Anselmo write, by which it appeared that his life ended in that point, ere he could set an end to the Reason he was to give. The next day ensuing, the Gen∣tleman his friend acquainted Anselmoes kinsfolke with his death; the which had already knowledge of his misfortune, and also of the Monastery wherein Camila had retyred her self, being almost in terms to accompany her husband in that forcible voyage; not for the newes of his death, but for grief of others which she had received of her absent friend. It is said, that although she was a widow, yet would she neither depart out of the Monastery, nor become a Religious woman, untill she had received within a few daies after, news how Lothario was slaine in a battell given by Monsieur de Lau••re••, to the great Captain Goncalo Fernandez of Cordova, in the kingdom of Naples; and that was the end of the late repentant friend, the which being known to Camila, she made a profession, and shortly after deceased between the rigorous hands of sorrow and

Melanchollie: and this was the end of them all, sprung from a rash and inconsiderate beginning.

This Novell quoth the Curate, having read it, is a pretty one; but yet I cannot per∣swade my self that it is true, and if it be a fiction, the Author erred therein; for it can∣not be imagined that any husband would be so foolish, as to make so costly an experience as did Anselmo: but if this accident had been devised betwixt a Gentleman and his love, then were it possible; but being between Man and Wife, it containes somewhat that is impossible and unlikely, but yet I can take no exception against the manner of recount∣ing thereof.

CHAP. IX.

Which treates of many rare Successes befaln in the Inne.

WHIL'ST they discoursed thus, the In-keeper, who stood all the while at the dore, said, Here comes a faire troope of Guests, and if they will here alight, wee may sing Gaudeamus. What folke is it, quoth Cardenio? Foure men on Horseback quoth the Hoast, and ride Gennet-wise, with Lances and Targets, and Maskes on their faces; and with them comes likewise a woman apparelled in white, in a side-Saddle, and her face also masked, and two Lacquies that run with them a foote. Are they neere quoth the Curate? So neere replyed the Inn∣keeper, as they doe now arive. Dorotea hearing him say so, covered her face, and Car∣denio entred into Don-Quixotes chamber; and scarce had they leisure to doe it, when the others of whom the Oast spake, entred into the Inne, and the foure Horsemen a∣lighting, which were all of very comely and gallant disposition; they went to helpe downe the Lady that rode in the side-Saddle, and one of them taking her downe in his armes did seat her in a chair that stood at the Chamber door, into which Cardenio had entred: and all this while neither shee nor they took off their Ma••ks, or spake a word, only the Gentlewoman at her sitting down in the chair breathed forth a very deep sigh, and let fall her armes like a sick and dismayed person: The Lacquies carried away their Horses to the Stable. Master Curate seeing and nothing all this, and curious to know what they were that came to the Inn in so unwonted an attire, and kept such profound silence therein, went to the Lacquies and demanded of one of them that which hee desired to know, Who answered, In good faith Sir, I cannot tell you what folk this is; only this I know, that they seem to bee very Noble, but chiefly hee that went and took down the Lady in his armes that you see there; and this I say, because all the others doe respect him very much, and nothing is done but what hee ordains and com∣mands. And the Lady, what is shee quoth the Curate? I can as hardly informe you, quoth the Lacquie; for I have not once seen her face in all this Journey; yet I have heard her often groan and breath out so profound sighs, as it seems shee would give up the ghost at every one of them: And it is no marvell, that wee should know no more then wee have said; for my Companion and my self have been in their companie but two dayes; for they incountred us on the way, and prayed and perswaded us to goe with them unto Andalusia, promising that they would recompence our pains largely. And hast thou heard them name one another, said the Curate? No truely, answered the Lacquie; for they all travail with such silence, as it is a wonder: for you shall not hear a word among, but the sighs and throbs of the poor Ladie, which doe move in us very great compassion: And we doe questionlesse perswade our selves that shee is forced wheresoever shee goes: and as it may bee collected by her attire, shee is a Nunne, or, as is most probable, goes to bee one; and perhaps shee goeth so sorrowfull as it seems,

because shee hath no desire to become Religious. It may very well bee so, quoth the Curate: And so leaving them, hee returned to the place where hee had left Dorotea; who hearing the disguised Lady to sigh so often moved by the native compassion of that Sex, drew neer her and said, What ayles you, good Madame? I pray you think if it bee any of those inconveniences to which Women bee subject, and whereof they m••y have use and experience to cure them: I doe offer unto you my Service, Assistance, and good-Will to help you, as much as lyes in my power. To all those complements the dolefull Ladie answered nothing; and although Dorotea made her again larger offers of her Service, yet stood shee ever silent, untill the bemasked Gentleman (whom the Lacquie said the rest did obey) came over and said to Dorotea; Ladie, doe not trouble your self to offer any thing to that woman, for shee is of a most ingratefull nature, and is never wont to gratifie any courtesie, nor doe you seek her to answer unto your demands, if you would not heare some lie from her mouth. I never said any (quoth the silent Ladie) but rather because I am so true and sincere without guiles; I am now drowned here in those misfortunes; and of this I would have thy self bear witnesse, seeing my pure truth makes thee to bee so false and disloyall.

Cardenio over-heard those words very cleere and distinctly, as one that stood so neer unto her that said them, as only Don-Quixotes chamber door stood between them: And instantly when hee heard them, hee said with a very loud voyce; Good God! what is this that I heare? What voyce is this that hath touched mine eare? The Ladie moved with a sodain passion, turned her head at those out-cries, and seeing shee could not perceive him that gave them, shee got up, and would have entred into the Roome, which the Gentleman espying with-held her, and would not let her stir out of the place: and with the alteration and sodain motion the Mask fell off her face, & she discovered an incomparable beautie, and an Angellicall countenance, although it was somewhat wan and pale, and turned here and ••here with her eyes to every place so earnestly as shee seemed to bee distracted: which motions without knowing the rea∣son why they were made, struck Dorotea and the rest that beheld her into very great compassion. The Gentleman holding her very strongly fast by the shoulders, the Mask he wore on his own face was falling; and he being so busied could not hold it up, but in the end fell wholy. Dorotea, who had likewise imbraced the Ladie, lifting up her eyes by chance, saw that hee, which did also imbrace the Ladie, was her Spouse Don Fernando: and scarce had shee known him, when breathing out a long and most pittifull Alas from the bottome of her heart, shee fell backward in a Traunce: And if the Barber had not been by good hap at hand, shee would have faln on the ground with all the weight of her body. The Curate presently repaired to take off the vaile of her face and cast water thereon: and as soon as hee did discover it, Don Fernando, who was hee indeed that held fast the other, knew her, and looked like a dead man as soon as hee viewed her; but did not all this while let goe Luscinda, who was the other whom hee held so fast, and that laboured so much to escape out of his hands. Cardenio likewise heard the Alas that Dorotea said when shee fell into a Trance, and believing that it was his Luscinda, issued out of the chamber greatly altered, and the first hee espied was Don Fernando which held Luscinda fast, who forthwith knew him. And all the three, Luscinda, Cardenio, and Dorotea, stood dumbe and amazed, as folk that knew not what had befaln unto them. All of them held their peace and beheld one another: Dorotea looked on Don Fernando, Don Fernando on Cardenio, Cardenio on Lu∣scinda, and Luscinda again on Cardenio: but Luscinda was the first that broke silence, speaking to Don Fernando in this manner; Leave me off, Lord Fernando, I conjure thee, by that thou shouldest be, for that which thou art: and if thou wilt not doe it for any other respect; Let me cleave to the wall whose Ivie I am; to the supporter, from whom, neither thy importunitie nor threats, promises or gifts, could once deflect me. Note how Hea∣ven, by unusuall, unfrequented, and from us concealed waies, hath set my true Spouse before mine eyes: and thou doest know well by a thousand costly experiences, that only death is potent to blot forth his remembrance out of my memorie: Let then so manifest truths bee of power (if thou must doe none other) to convert thine affliction

into rage, and thy good will into despight, and therewithall end my life: for if I may render up the Ghost in the presence of my deer Spouse, I shall account it fortunately lost. Perhaps by my death hee will remain satisfied of the faith which I ever kept sincere towards him, untill the last period of my life. By this time Dorotea was come to her self, and listened to most of Luscindaes reasons, and by them came to the knowledge of her self: But seeing Don Fernando did not yet let ••er depart from between his armes, nor answer any thing to her words, encouraging her self the best that shee might, shee arose and kneeling at his feet, and shedding a number of Cristall and penetrating T••ares, she spoke to him thus.

If it bee not so my Lord, that the beames of that Sunne which thou holdest eclyp∣sed betweene thine armes, doe darken and deprive those of thine eyes, thou mightest have by this perceived, how shee that is prostrated at thy feete, is the unfortunate (un∣till thou shalt please) and the disastrous Dorotea. I am that poore humble country-wo∣man, whom thou eyther through thy bountie, or for thy pleasure didst daigne to rayse to that height that shee might call thee her owne. I am shee which sometime immured within the limits of honestie, did lead a most contented life, untill it opened the gates of her recollection and wearinesse to thine importunity, and seeming just, and amorous requests, and rendred up to thee the keyes of her libertie; a griefe by thee so ill recom∣penced, as the finding my selfe in so remote a place as this wherein you have met with mee, and I seene you, may cleerely testifie; but yet for all this, I would not have you to imagine that I come here guided by dishonourable steps, being only hitherto condu∣cted by the tracts of dolour and feeling, to see my selfe thus forgotten by thee. It was thy will that I should bee thine owne, and thou didst desire it in such a manner, as al∣though now thou wouldst not have it so, yet canst not thou possibly leave off to be mine. Know my deere Lord, that the matchlesse affections that I doe beare towards thee, may recompence and be equivalent to her beautie and nobilitie for whom thou dost aban∣don mee.

Thou canst not bee the beautifull L••scindaes because thou art mine; nor shee thine, for as much as shee belongs to Cardenio, and it will bee more easie, if you will note it well, to reduce thy will to love her that adores thee, then to addresse hers, that hates thee, to beare thee affection: Thou diddest sollicite my wretchlessenesse, thou prayedst to mine integritie, and wast not ignorant of my qualitie; thou knowest also very well upon what termes I subjected my selfe to thy will, so as there remaines no place nor co∣lour to term it a fraud or deceit; and all this being so, as in veritie it is, & that thou beest as Christian as thou art noble, why dost thou with these so many untoward wreathings dilate the making of mine end happy, whose cōmencement thou didst illustrate so much? and if thou wilt not have mee for what I am, who am thy true and lawfull Spouse; yet at least take and admit mee for thy slave, for so that I may bee in thy possession, I will account my selfe happy and fortunate. Doe not permit that by leaving and abandoning mee, meetings may bee made to discourse of my dishonour. Doe not vexe thus the de∣clining yeeres of my Parents, seeing that the loyall services which they ever have done as Vassals to thine, deserve not so dishonest a recompence: And if thou esteemest that thy blood by medling with mine shall bee stayned or embased, consider how few noble houses, or rather none at all, are there in the world, which have not runne the same way; and that the womans side is not essentially requisite for the illustrating of noble discents: how much more, seeing that true Nobilitie consists in virtue, which if it shall want in thee, by refusing that which thou owest mee so justly, I shall remain with many more degrees of Nobilitie then thou shalt. And in conclusion, that which I will lastly say is, that whether thou wilt or no, I am thy wife; the witnesses are thine owne words, which neither should nor ought to lie, if thou dost pri••e thy selfe of that for whose want thou despisest mee. Witnesse shall also bee thine owne hand writing. Wit∣nesse Heaven, which thou didst invoke to beare witnesse of that which thou didst pro∣mise unto mee; and when all this shall faile, thy very Conscience shall never faile from using clamors, being silent in thy myrth and turning, for this truth which I have said to thee now, shall trouble thy greatest pleasure and delight.

These and many other like reasons did the sweetly grieved Dorotea use with such fee∣ling and abundance of teares, as all those that were present, as well such as accompani∣ed Don Fernando, as all the others that did accompany her. Don Fernando listned unto her without replying a word, untill shee had ended her speech, and given beginning to so many sighs and sobs, as the heart that could indure to behold them without moving, were harder then brasse. Luscinda did also regard her, no lesse compassionate of her sorrow, then admired at her discretion and beautie, and although shee would have ap∣proached to her, and used some consolatorie words, yet was shee hindred by Don Fer∣nandoes armes, which held her still embraced; who full of confusion and marvell, after hee had stood very attentively beholding Dorotea a good while, opening his armes, and leaving Luscynda free said, Thou hast vanquished, O beautifull Dorotea, thou hast van∣quished me; for it is not possible to resist or denie so many united truths. Luscinda through her former trance and weakenesse, as Don Fernando left her, was like to fall, if Cardenio who stood behind Don Fernando all the while lest hee should bee known, shak∣ing off all feare and in indangering his person, had not started forward to stay her from falling; and clasping her sweetly betweene his armes hee said. If pittifull Heaven bee pleased, and would have thee now at last take some ease, my loyall, constant and beau∣tifull Ladie, I presume that thou canst not possesse it more securely then betweene these armes which doe now receive thee, as whilom they did when fortune was pleased that I might call thee mine owne. And then Luscinda first severing her eye lids beheld Car∣denio, and having first taken notice of him by his voyce, and confirmed it againe by her sight, like one quite distracted, without farther regarding modest respects, shee cast both her armes about his neck, and joyning her face to his said, Yea, thou indeede art my Lord; thou the true owne of this poore Captive, howsoever adverse fortune shall thwart it, or this life, which is only sustayned and lives by thine, bee ever so much threat∣ned. This was a marvelous spectacle to Don Fernando, and all the rest of the beholders, which did universally admire at this so unexpected an event: and Dorotea perceiving Don Fernando to change colour, as one resolving to take revenge on Cardenio, for hee had set hand to his Sword, which shee conjecturing, did with marvelous expedition kneele, and catching hold on his legs, kissing them, shee strained them with so loving embracements, as hee could not stir out of the place, and then with her eyes overflown with teeres, said unto him, What meanest thou to doe, my only refuge in this unexpe∣cted trance? Thou hast here thine own Spouse at thy feete, and her whom thou wouldst faine possesse is betweene her owne husbands armes: Judge then whether it become thee, or is a thing possible to dissolve that which Heaven hath knit, or whether it bee a∣ny wise laudable to endeavor to raise and equall to thy selfe her, who contemning all dangers and inconveniences, and confirmed in faith and constancy, doth in thy presence bathe her eyes with amorous liquor of her true Loves face and bosome. I desire thee for Gods sake, and by thine owne worths; I request thee, that this so notorious a ve∣ritie may not only asswage thy choller, b••t also diminish it in such sort, as thou maiest quietly and peaceably permit those two Lovers to enjoy their desires without any en∣cumbrance, all the time that Heaven shall grant it to them; and herein thou shalt shew the generositie of thy magnanimous and noble brest, and give the world to understand how reason prevaileth in thee, and domaniereth over passion. All the time that Doro∣tea spoke thus to Don Fernando, although Cardenio held Luscinda betweene his armes, yet did hee never take his eye off Don Fernando, with resolution, that if hee did see him once stir in his prejudice, hee would labor both to defend himself and offend his adver∣sary & all those should joyn with him to do him any harm, as much as he could, although it were with the rest of his life: but Don Fernandoes friends, the Curat and Barber that were present and saw all that was past, repayred in the meane season, without omitting the good Sancho Panca, and all of them together compassed Don Fernando, intreating him to have regard of the beautifull Doroteas teares, and it being true (as they beleeved it was) that she had said, he should not permit her to remain defrauded of her so just and lawfull hopes, assuring him that it was not by chance, but rather by the parti∣cular providence and disposition of the Heavens, that they had all met together so un∣expectedly:

And that hee should remember, as Master Curate said very well, that only death could sever Luscinda from her Cardenio: And that although the edge of a Sword might divide and part them asunder, yet in that case they would account their death most happy, and that in irremedilesse events, it was highest prudence, by strain∣ing and overcoming himself, to shew a generous minde, permitting that hee might conquer his own will, they two should joy that good which Heaven had already grant∣ed to them, and that hee should convert his eyes to behold the beautie of Dorotea, and hee should see that few or none could for feature paragon with her; and much lesse excell her; and that hee should conferre her humilitie and extreame love which shee bore to him with her other indowments; and principally that if hee gloried in the titles of Nobility or Christianity, hee could not doe any other then accomplish the promise that hee had past to her; and that by fulfilling it hee should please God and satisfie discreet persons, which know very well how it is a speciall prerogative of beautie though it bee in an humble and mean subject, if it bee consorted with Modestie and Virtue, to exalt and equall it self to any dignitie, without disparagement of him which doth help to raise or unite it to himself. And when the strong laws of delight are ac∣complished (so that there intercurre no sinne in the acting thereof) hee is not to bee condemned which doth follow them. Finally, they added to these reasons others so many and forcible, that the valorous brest of Don Fernando (as commonly all those that are warmed and nourished by Noble Blood are wont) was mollified, and permitted it self to bee vanquished by that truth which hee could not denye though hee would: And the token that hee gave of his being overcome, was to stoop down and imbrace Dorotea, saying unto her, A••ise Ladie; for it is not just that shee bee prostrate at my feet, whose image I have erected in my minde: And if I have not hitherto given de∣monstrations of what I now averr, it hath perhaps befaln through the disposition of Heaven, to the end I might by noting the constancie and faith wherewithall thou doest affect me, know after how to value and esteeme thee according unto thy merits: and that which in recompence thereof I doe intreat of thee is, that thou wilt excuse in mee mine ill manner of proceeding and exceeding carelessenesse in repaying thy good will: For the very occasion and violent passions that made me to accept thee as mine, the very same did also impell me again not to be thine: & for the more verifying of mine assertion, doe but once behold the eyes of the now contented Luscinda and thou mayest read in them a thousand excuses for mine errour: & seeing shee hath found and obtained her hearts desire, and I have in thee also gotten what is most convenient: for I wish shee may live securely and joyfully many and happie yeers with her Cardenio; for I will pray the same, that it will licence me to enjoy my beloved Dorotea: And saying so, hee embraced her again, and joyned his face to hers with so lovely moti∣on, as it constrained him to hold watch over his Teares, lest violently bursting forth, they should give doubtlesse arguments of his servent Love, and re∣morse.

Cardenio Luscinda and almost all the rest could not doe so, for the greater number of them shed so many teares, some for their private contentment, and others for their friends, as it seemed that some grievous and heavie misfortune had betided them all; even very Sancho Panca wept, although hee excused it afterward, saying, That he wept only because that hee saw that Dorotea was not the Queene Micomicona, as hee had imagined, of whom hee hoped to have received so great gifts and favours. The admira∣tion and teares joyned, indured in them all for a pretty space, and presently after Car∣denio and Luscinda went and kneeled to Don Fernando, yeelding him thanks for the fa∣vour that hee had done to them, with so courteous complements, as hee knew not what to answere, and therefore lifted them up, and embraced them with very great a∣fection and kindnesse, and presently after he demanded of Dorotea how she came to that place, so far from her own dwelling? and shee recounted unto him all that shee had told to Cardenio; wherea•• Don Fernando and those which came with him took so great delight, as they could have wished that her story had continued a longer time in the telling then it did; so great was Doroteaes grace in setting out her misfortunes. And

as soon as shee had ended, Don Fernando told all that had befaln him in the Citie, after that hee had found the scroule in Luscindaes bosome, wherein shee declared Cardenio to bee her Husband; and that hee therefore could not marrie her; And also how hee attempted to kill her, and would have done it, were it not that her Parents hindred him; And that hee therefore departed out of the house full of shame and despight, with resolution to revenge himself more commodiously: And how hee understood the next day following, how Luscinda was secretly departed from her fathers house, and gone no body knew where; but that hee finally learned within a few moneths after, that shee had entred into a certain Monastery, with intention to re∣main there all the daies of her life, if shee could not passe them with Cardenio: And that as soon as hee had learned that, choosing those three Gentlemen for his Associates, hee came to the place where shee was, but would not speake to her, fearing lest that as soon as they knew of his being there, they would increase the guards of the Mona∣stery; and therefore expected untill he found on a day the gates of the Monastery open, and leaving two of his fellows to keep the doore, hee with the other entred into the Abby in Luscindaes search, whom they found talking with a Nunne in the Cloyster; and snatching her away e're shee could retire her self, they brought her to a certain Village, where they disguised themselves in that sort they were; for so it was requisite for to bring her away: All which they did with the more facilitie, that the Monastery was seated abroad in the Fields, a good way from any Village. Hee like∣wise told, That as soon as Luscinda saw her self in his power, shee fell into a Swone; and that after shee had returned to her self, shee never did any other thing but weep and sigh, without speaking a word; And that in that manner, accompanied with silence and tears, they had arrived to that Inne, which was to him as gratefull as an arrivall to Heaven, wherein all earthly mis-haps are concluded and finished.

CHAP. X.

Wherein is prosecuted the History of the famous Princesse Micomi∣cona, with other delightfull Adventures.

SANCHO gave eare to all this with no small grief of minde, seeing that all the hopes of his Lordship vanished away like smoak, and that the fair Princesse Micomicona was turned into Dorotea, and the Gyant into Don Fernando, and that his Master slept so souldly and carelesse of all that had hapned. Dorotea could not yet assure her self whether the happinesse that shee possest was a dream or no. Cardenio was in the very same taking, and also Luscindaes thoughts run the same race.

Don Fernando yielded many thanks to Heaven for having dealt with him so propi∣tiously and unwinding him out of the intricate Labyrinth, wherein straying, hee was at the poynt to have at once lost his soul and credit: and finally as many as were in the Inne were very glad and joyfull of the successe of so thwart, intricate, and desperate affairs. The Curate compounded and ordered all things through his discetion, and con∣gratulated every one of the good hee obtained: But shee that kept greatest Jubilee and Joy was the Hostesse, for the promise that Cardenio and the Curate had made, to pay her the damages and harms committed by Don-Quixote; only Sancho, as wee have said, was afflicted, unfortunate and sorrowfull. And thus hee entred with melancholy semblance to his Lord, who did but then awake, and said unto him;

Well and securely may you sleep, Sir Knight of the heavy countenance, as long as it shall

please your self, without troubling your self with any care of killing any Gyant, or of restoring the Queen to her Kingdome; for all is concluded and done already. I be∣lieve thee very easily, replyed Don-Quixote; for I have had the monstrousest and most terrible battail with that Gyant that ever I think to have all the dayes of my life with any; and yet with one thwart blow-thwack, I overthrew his head to the ground; and there issued so much blood as the streams thereof ranne along the earth as if they were of water. As if they were of red Wine you might better have said, replyed Sancho Panca: for I would let you to understand, if you know it not already, That the dead Gyant is a bored Wine-bagg; and the blood six & thirty gallons of red Wine, which it contained in it's belly: the head that was slash'd off so neatly, is the Whore my Mother; and let the Devill take all away for me. And what is this thou sayest, mad man (quoth Don-Quixote?) Art thou in thy right wits? Get up Sir (quoth Sancho) and you your self shall see the fair stuffe you have made, and what wee have to pay; and you shall behold the Queen transformed into a particular Lady, called Dorotea, with other suc∣cesses; which if you may once conceive them aright, will strike you into admiration. I would marvell at nothing, quoth Don-Quixote; for if thou beest well remembred, I told thee the other time that wee were here, how all that succeded in this place was done by inchantment; And what wonder then if now the like should eftsoons befall? I could easily bee induced to believe all, replyed Sancho, if my canvassing in the Co∣verlet were of that nature: But indeed it was not, but most reall and certain: And I saw well how the Inn-keeper that is here yet this very day alive, held one end of the Coverlet, and did tosse me up towards Heaven with very good grace and strength, no lesse merily then lightly: And where the notice of parties intercurs, I doe believe, although I am a simple man and a sinner, that there is no kinde of inchantment, but rather much trouble, brusing, and misfortune. Well, God will remedie all, said Don-Quixote; and give me mine apparell; for I will get up and goe forth, and see those successes and transformations which thou speakest of. Sancho gave him his clothes; and whilest hee was a making of him ready, the Curate recounted to Don Fernando and to the rest Don-Quixotes mad pranks, and the guile hee had used to bring him away out of the poor Rock, wherein hee imagined that hee lived exiled through the disdain of his Lady. Hee told them moreover all the other Adventures which Sancho had discovered, whereat they did not laugh a little and wonder withall, because it seemed to them all to be one of the extravagantest kinds of madnesse that ever befell a distracted brain. The Curate also added, That seeing the good successe of the Lady Dorotea did impeach the farther prosecuting of their designe, that it was requisite to invent and finde some other way, how to carrie him home to his own Village. Cardenio offered himself to prosecute the Adventure, and Luscinda should represent Doroteaes person. No, quoth Don Fernando, it shall not bee so; for I will have Dorotea to prosecute her own invention: For so that the Village of this good Gentleman bee not very farre off from hence, I will bee very glad to procure his remedy. It is no more then two dayes journey from hence, said the Curate. Well though it were more, replyed Don Fer∣nando, I would bee pleased to travail them, in exchange of doing so good a work. Don-Quixote sallied out at this time compleatly armed with Mambrino's Helmet (although with a great hole in it) on his head, his Target on his arme, and leaned on his Trunk or Javelin. His strange countenance and gate amazed Don Fernando and his Companions very much, seeing his ill-favoured visage so withered and yellow, the in∣equalitie and insutabilitie of his Armes, and his grave manner of proceeding; and stood all silent to see what hee would; who casting his eyes on the Bautifull Dorotea, with very great gravity and staidnesse said.

I am informed (beautifull Lady) by this my Squire, that your greatnesse is annihi∣lated, and your being destroyed: For of a Queen and mighty Princesse which you were wont to bee, you are now become a particular Damzell: which if it hath been done by particular orde of the Magicall King your Father, dreading that I would not bee able to give you the necessarie and requisite help for your restitution; I say that hee neither knew nor doth know the one half of the enterprize, and that hee was

very little acquainted with Histories of Chivalrie: For if hee had read them, or pas∣sed them over with so great attention and leisure as I have done, and read them, hee should have found at every other steppe, how other Knights of a great deale lesse fame then my selfe, have ended more desperate Adventures; seeing it is not so great a matter to kill a Gyant, bee hee ever so arrogant; for it is not many houres since I my selfe fought with one, and what insued I will not say, lest they should tell mee that I doe lye; but time the detector of all things will disclose it, when we doe least think thereof.

Thou foughtest with two wine-bags and not with a Gyant quoth the Oast at this season: But Don Fernando commanded him to bee silent and not interrupt Don-Qui∣xote in any wise, who prosecuted his speech saying. In fine I say, high and disinherited Lady, that if your Father hath made this M••tam••rphosis in your person for the causes related, give him no credit; for there is no perill so great on earth but my Sword shall open a way through it, wherewithall I overthrowing your enemies head to the ground will set your Crowne on your owne head within a few dayes. Here Don-Quixote held his peace, and awaited the Princesse her Answere, who knowing Don Fernandoes determination and will, that shee should continue the commenced guile untill Don-Quixote were caried home againe, answered with a very good grace and countenance in this manner: Whosoever informed you valorous Knight of the illfavoured face, that I have altered and changed my being, hath not told you the truth; for I am the very same to day that I was yesterday; true it is, that some unexpected, yet fortunate suc∣cesses have wrought some alteration in mee, by bestowing on mee better hap then I ho∣ped for, or could wish my self; but yet for all that I have not left off to be that which before, or to have the very same thoughts which I ever had, to helpe my selfe by the va∣lour of your most valorous and invincible arme. And therfore I request you, good my Lord, of your accustomed bountie, to return my father his honor again, and account of him as of a very discreet and prudent man, seeing that he found by this skill, so easy and so infallible a way to redresse my disgraces; for I doe certainly beleeve, that if it had not been by your meanes, I should never have hapned to attain to the good fortune which now I possesse, as all those Noblemen present may witnesse; what therefore rests is, that to morrow morning we doe set forward, for to day is now already so overgone, as we should not be able to travell very far from hence; as for the conclusion of the good successe that I doe hourly expect, I refer that to God and the valour of your invinci∣ble Arme.

Thus much the discreete Dorotea said, and Don-Quixote having heard her, he turned him to Sancho with very manifest tokens of indignation and said, Now I say unto thee little Sancho, that thou art the veriest Rascall that is in all Spayne: tell mee theefe and vagabond, didst not thou but even very now say unto mee that this Princesse was tur∣ned into a Damzell, and that, called Dorotea? and that the head which I thought I had slashed from a Gyants shoulders, was the whore that bore thee? with a thousand o∣ther follies, which did plunge me into the greatest confusion that ever I was in in my life? I vow (and then hee looked upon heaven, and did crash his teeth together) that I am about to make such a wrack on thee, as shall beate wit into the pates of all the lying Squires that shall ever hereafter serve Knights errant in this world. I pray you have pa∣tience good my Lord, answered Sancho, for it may very well befall mee to bee decei∣ved in that which toucheth the transmutation of the Lady and Princesse Micomicona; but in that which concerneth the Gyants head, or at least the boring of the wine-bags, and that the blood was but red-wine, I am not deceived I sweare; for the bags lie yet wounded there within at your owne beds head; and the red-wine hath made a Lake in the Chamber, and if it bee not so, it shall bee perceived at the frying of the Egges, I meane that you shall see it when master In-keepers worship, who is here present, shall demand the losse and dammage. I say then Sancho quoth Don-Quixote, that thou art a mad cap; pardon mee, and so it is enough. It is enough indeede quoth Don Fernan∣do, and therefore let mee intreate you to say no more of this, and seeing my Lady the Princesse sayes shee will goe away to morrow, seeing it is now too late to depart to day,

let it bee so agreed on, and wee will spend this night in pleasant discourses, until the ap∣proach of the ensuing day, wherein wee will all accompany and attend on the worthy Knight Sir Don-Quixote, because wee would bee eye-witnesses of the valorous and un∣matchable feats of arms which he shal do in the pursuit of this weighty enterprize which he hath taken upon him. I am he that will serve and accompany you, good my Lord, re∣plyed Don-Quixote, and I doe highly gratifie the honor that is done me, and the goo•• opinion that is held of me, the which I will endeavor to verifie and approve, or it shall cost me my life, or more, if more it might cost me.

Many other words of complement and gratification past between Don-Quixote and Don Fernando, but a certaine passenger imposed silence to them all, by his arivall to the Inne in that very season, who by his attyre shewed that hee was a Christian newly re∣turned from among the Moores, for hee was apparelled with a short skyrted Caslock of blue cloth, sleeves reaching downe halfe the Arme, and without a coller; his breeches were likewise of blue linnen, and hee wore a bonnet of the same colour, a payre of Date coloured Buskins, and a Turkish Semiter hanging at his neck in a Scarfe, which went athwart his brest; there entred after him, riding on an Asle, a woman clad like a Moore, and her face covered with a peece of the Vaile of her head, shee wore on her head a little cap of cloth of gold, and was covered with a little turkish Mantle from the shoulders downe to the feete; the man was of strong and comely making of the age of forty yeeres or thereabouts, his face was somewhat tanned, hee had long Mustachoes and a very handsome Beard; to conclude, his making was such, as if hee were well at∣tyred, men would take him to bee a person of qualitie and good byrth; hee demanded a Chamber as soone as hee had entred, and being answered that there was no one va∣cant in the Inne, hee seemed to bee grieved, and comming to her which in her attyre de∣noted her selfe to bee a Moore, hee tooke her downe from her Asle. Luscinda, Doro∣tea, the Oastesse, her daughter and Maritornes, allured to behold the new and strange attyre of the Moore, compassed her about; and Dorotea, who was alwaies most graci∣ous, courteous and discreete, deeming that both shee and hee that had brought her, were discontented for the want of a lodging shee said Ladie, bee not grieved for the trouble you are here like to endure for want of meanes to refresh your selfe, seeing it is an universall vice of all Innes to bee defective herein; yet notwithstanding if it shall please you to passe away the time among us (pointing to Luscinda) perhaps you have met in the discourse of your travells, other worse places of entertainment then this shall prove. The disguised Lady made none answere, nor other thing then arising from the place wherein shee sate, and setting both her armes a crosse on her bosome, shee in∣clined her head and bowed her bodie, in signe that shee rendred them thanks; by her si∣lence they doubtlesly conjectured her to bee a Moore, and that shee could not speake the Castilian tongue. In this the captive arived, who was otherwise imployed untill then, and seeing that they all had invironed her that came with him, and that she made no answere to their speech hee said; Ladies, this Maiden scarce understands my tongue yet, nor doth shee know any other then that of her owne Countrey, and therefore she hath not, nor can make any answere to your demands. Wee demand nothing of her quoth Luscinda, but only doe make her an offer of our companies for this night, and part of the Roome where wee our selves are shall bee accomodated, where shee shall bee cherished up as much as the commodity of this place, and the Obligation wherein wee bee tyed to shew courtesies to strangers that may want it doe binde us; especially shee being a woman to whom wee may doe this service. Sweet Lady, I kisse your hands both for her and my selfe, replyed the captive, and I doe highly prize, as it deser∣veth, the favour you have proffered, which in such an occasion, and offered by such Persons as you seeme to bee, doth very plainly shew how great it is. Tell mee good Sir, quoth Dorotea, whether is this Lady a Christian or a Moore? for by her attyre and silence shee makes us suspect that shee is that wee would not wish shee were. A Moore shee is in attyre and body, answered the captive; but in minde shee is a very fervent Christian, for shee hath very expresly desired to become one. Then shee is not yet bap∣tized, said Luscinda? there hath beene no oportunitie offered to us, quoth the captive,

to christen her, since shee departed from Argell, which is her Town and Countrey; and since that time shee was not in any so eminent a danger of death as might obliege her to bee baptized, before shee were first instructed in all the Ceremonies which our holy Mother the Church commandeth: but I hope shortly (if it shall please God) to see her baptized with that decencie which her quality and calling deserves, which is greater then her attire or mine makes shew of.

These words inflamed all the hearers with a great desire to know who the Moor and and her Captive were; yet none of them would at that time intreat him to satisfie their longing, because the season rather invited them to take some order how they might rest after their travails, then to demand of them the discourse of their lives. Dorotea then taking her by the hand, caused her to sit down by her self, and prayed her to take off the veile from her face. She instantly beheld the Captive, as if shee de∣manded of him what they said; and hee in the Arabicall language told her, how they desired her to discover her face, and bade her to doe it; which presently shee did, and discovered so beautifull a visage, as Dorotea esteemed her to bee fairer then Luscinda, and Luscinda prized her to excell Dorotea: and all the beholders perceived that if any one could surpasse them both in Beautie, it was the Moor; and there were some that thought shee excelled them both in some respects, And as Beautie hath evermore the prerogative and grace to reconcile mens mindes and attract their wills to it; so all of them forthwith dedicated their desires to serve and make much of the lovely Moor. Don Fernando demanded of the Captive how shee was called; and hee answered that her name was Lela Zoraida: and as soon as shee heard him, and understood what they had demanded, shee suddainly answered with anguish, but yet with a very good grace, No, not Zoraida, but Maria, Maria; giving them to understand that shee was called Maria, and not Zoraida.

These words, and the great affect and vehemenci•• wherewithall the Moor delivered them, extorted more then one tear from the hearers, especially from the women who are naturally tender-hearted and compassive. Luscinda embraced her then with great love, and said, I, I, Maria, Maria. To which shee answered, I, I, Maria; Zoraida ••ancanga; that is and not Zoraida. By this it was grown some four of the clock in the afternoon; and by order of those which were Don Fernando's Companions, the Inn-keeper had provided for them as good a Beaver as the Inne could in any wise afford unto them: Therefore it being the houre, they sate down all together at a long Table (for there was never a square or round one in all the house) and they gave the first and principall end (although hee refused it as much as hee could) to Don-Quixote, who commanded that the Ladie Micomicona should sit at his elbow, seeing hee was her Champion: Presently were placed Luscinda, and Zoraida, and Don Fernando, and Cardenio right over against them, and after the Captive and other Gentlemen, and on the other side the Curate and Barber: And thus they made their drinking with very great recreation, which was the more augmented to see Don-Quixote, leaving of his meat, and moved by the like spirit of that which had made him once before talk so much to the Goat-heards, beginne to offer them an occasion of Speech in this manner.

Truely, good Sirs, if it bee well considered, those which professe the Order of Knight-hood, doe see many great and unexpected things. If it bee not so, say, what mortall man alive is there, that entring in at this Castle gate, and seeing of us all in the manner wee bee now present here, can judge or believe that wee are those which wee bee? Who is it that can say, that this Ladie which sits here at my sleeve, is the great Queen that wee all know her to bee; and that I am that Knight of the Heavie Coun∣tenance, that am so much blab'd of abroad by the mouth of Fame? therefore it cannot bee now doubted, but that this Art and Exercise excelleth all the others which ever hu∣man wit, the underminer of Nature, invented; and it is the more to be prized, by how much it exposeth it self, more then other Trades, to dangers and inconveniences. Away with those that shall affirm learning to surpasse Armes; for I will say unto them, bee they what they list, that they know not what they say: For the reason which such

men doe most urge, and to which they doe most relye, is, That the travails of the Spirit doe farre exceed those of the Body: And that the use of Armes are only Exercised by the Body, as if it were an Office fit for Porters, for which nothing were requisite but Bodily forces; or as if in that which wee that professe it doe call Armes, were not included the acts of Fortitude which require deep understanding to execute them; or as if the Warriours Minde did not labour as well as his Body, who had a great Army to lead and command, or the defence of a besiged Citie: If not, see if hee can arrive by his corporall strength to know or sound the intent of his Enemie, the Designes, Stratagems, and Difficulties, how to prevent imminent Dangers, all these being opera∣tions of the understanding, wherein the body hath no medling at all: It being there∣fore so, that the Exercise of Armes require Spirit as well as those of Learning; let us now examine which of the two Spirits, that of the Scholler or Souldier, doe take most pains: And this may bee best understood by the end, to which both of them are ad∣dressed; for that intention is most to bee esteemed, which hath for object the most noble end. The end and conclusion of Learning is; I speak not now of Divinitie, whose scope is to lead and addresse souls to Heaven; for to an end so much without end as this, no other may bee compared; I mean of humane Sciences or Arts to maintaine distributive justice in his perfection, and give to every one that which is is his own: to indeavour and cause good Laws to bee religiously observed; an end most certainly generous, high and worthy of great praise: but not of so much as that, to which the Exercise of Armes is annext, which hath for his object and end Peace; which is the great∣est good men can desire in this life: and therefore the first good news that ever the World had or Men received, were those which the Angels brought on that night which was our day, when they sung in the skies, Glorie bee in the heights, and Peace on earth to men of good mindes. And the Salvation which the best Master that ever was on Earth or in Heaven taught to his Disciples and Favorites was, That when they entrd into any house, they should say, Peace bee to this house: and many other times hee said, I give unto you my Peace; I leave my Peace unto you: Peace bee amongst you. It is a good, as precious as a Jewell, and a Gift given, and left by such a hand: a Jewel, without which neither on Earth or in Heaven can there bee any perfect good. This Peace is the true end of Warre; for Armes and Warre are one and the selfe same things. This truth being therefore presupposed, that the end of Warre is Peace, and that herein it doth excell the end of Learning: let us descend to the corporall labours of the Scholler, and to those of him which professeth Armes, and consider which of them are more toylsome.

Don-Quixote did prosecute his discourse in such sort, and with so pleasing terms, as hee had almost induced his Audients to esteem him to hee at that time at least ex∣empt from his frenzie: and thereforeby reason that the greater number of them were Gentlemen, to whom the use of Armes is in a manner essentiall and proper, they did willingly listen to him; a••d therefore hee continued on with his discourse in this manner.

I say then, that the pains of the Student are commonly these: Principally povertie (not that I would maintain that all Students are poor, but that I may put the case in greatest extreamitie it can have) and by saying that hee may bee poor, me thinks there may bee no greater aggravation of his misery: For hee that is poor hath no perfection: and this poverty is suffered by him sundrie waies; sometimes by hunger, other times by cold or nakednesse, and many times by all of them together: Yet it is never so extream but that hee doth eate, although it bee somewhat later then the custome, or of the Scraps and Reversion of the rich man: and the greatest miserie of the Student is that which they terme, to live by sops and pottage: and though they want fire of their own, yet may they have recourse to their neighbours Chimney, which if it doe not warm, yet will it weaken the cold: And finally, they sleep at night under a Roof. I will not descend to other trifles, to wit, the want of Shirts and Shoes, the barenesse of their clothes, or the over-loading of their stomacks with meat when good fortune lends them as good a meale: For by this way which I have decyphered so rough and

difficult, stumbling here, falling there; getting up again on the other side, and refalling on this; they attained the degree which they have desired so much; which many having compassed as wee have seen, which having passed thorow these difficulties, and sailed by Scylla and Charibdis (borne away flying in a manner by favourable fortune) they command and govern all the World from a Chair, turning their hunger into sacietie, their nakednesse into pompe, and their sleeping on a Matt into a sweet repose among Hollands and Damask; a reward justly merited by their Virtue: But their labours confronted and compared to those of the militant Souldier, remain very farre behinde as I will presently declare.

CHAP. XI.

Treating of the curious discourse made by Don-Quixote upon the Exercises of Armes and Letters.

Don-Quixote continuing his discourse, said, Seeing wee begin in the Student with Povertie and her parts, let us examine whether the Souldier bee Richer? Certainly wee shall finde, that no man can exceed the Souldier in Poverty it self: For hee is tyed to his wretch∣ed Pay which comes either late or never: Or else to his own shifts with notable danger of his life and conscience; And his nakednesse is oft times so much, as many times a leather Jerkin gashed, serves him at once for a shirt and ornament: And in the midest of Winter hee hath sundry times no other defence or help to resist the inclemencies of the aire in the midest of the open fields, then the breath of his mouth; which I verily believe doth against Nature come out cold, by reason it sallies from an emptie place; expect there till the night fall, that hee may repaire all these discommodities by the easinesse of his Bed, the which, if it bee not through his own default, shall never offend in narrownesse; for hee may measure out for it on the earth as many foot as hee pleaseth, and tumble him∣self up and down it without indangering the wrinkling of his sheets. Let after all this the day and hour arrive, wherein hee is to receive the degree of his profession. Let, I say, a day of Battail arrive; for there they will set on his head the Cap of his dignitie, made of lints to cure the wound of some bullet that hath past thorow and thorow his Temples, or hath maimed an arme or a leg. And when this doth not befall, but that Heaven doth piously keep and preserve him whole and sound, hee shall perhaps abide still in the same povertie wherein hee was at the first; and that it bee requisite that one and another Battail do succeed, and he come off ever a Victor, to the end that he may prosper and bee at the last advanced. But such miracles are but few times wrought; and say, good Sirs, if you have noted it, how few are those which the Warres reward, in respect of the others that it hath destroyed? You must answer without question, that there can bee no comparison made between them, nor can the dead bee reduced to any number; but all the living, and such as are advanced, may bee counted easily with three Arithmeticall figures; all which falls out contrary in Learned men, for all of them have wherewithall to entertain and maintain themselves by skirts; I will say nothing of sleeves: So that although the Souldiers labour is greater, yet is his reward much lesse. But to this may bee answered, That it is easier to reward two hundred thousand Learned men, then thirty thousand Souldiers; for they may bee advanced by giving unto them Offices, which must of necessity bee bestowed on men of their pro∣fession: But Souldiers cannot bee recompenced otherwise then by the Lords substance and wealth whom they serve: and yet this objection and impossibilitie doth fortifie much more my assertion.

But leaving this apart which is a Labyrinth of very difficult issue, let us return to the preeminencie of Armes over Learning, which is a matter hitherto depending; so many are the reasons that every one alleageth for himself: and among those which I my self have repeated, then Learning doth argue thus for it self, That Armes without it cannot bee long maintained, for as much as the Warre hath also Laws, and is subject to them, and that the Laws are contained under the Title of Learning, and belong to Learned men.

To this objection Armes doe make answere; That the Lawes cannot bee sustained without them, for Commonwealths are defended by Armes, and Kingdomes preser∣ved, Cities fenced, High-waies made safe, the Seas freed from Pyrats; and to bee briefe, if it were not for them, Commonwealths, Kingdomes, Monarchies, Cities, and wayes by Sea and Land, would bee subject to the rigour and confusion which attendeth on the warre all the time that it endureth, and is licensed to practise his Prerogatives and violence; and it is a known truth, That it which cost most, is or ought to bee most accounted of; that one may become eminent in Learning, it costs him time, watchings, hunger, nakednesse, head-aches, rewnesse of Stomack, and other such inconveniences, as I have partly mentioned already: But that one may arive by true termes to bee a good Souldier, it costs him all that it costs the Student, in so exceeding a degree, as admits no comparison, for hee is at every step in jeapordie to lose his life. And what feare of necessitie or povertie may befall or molest a Student so fiercely as it doth a Souldier, who seeing himselfe at the s••ege of some impregnable place, and standing Cen∣tinel in some Raveline or half Moone, feeles the enemies undermining neere to the place where he is, and yet dares not to depart or abandon his stand, upon any occasion whatsoever, or shun the danger which so neerly threatens him? but that which he onely may doe, is to advise his Captain of that which passeth, to the end hee may remedy it by some countermine, whilest he must stand still fearing and expecting when he shall sud∣denly fly up to the clowds without wings, and after descend to the depths against his will•• and if this appeare to be but a small danger, let us weigh whether the grapling of two Gallies, the one with the other in the midst of the spacious Maine, may be com∣pared, or doe surpasse it, the which nailed and grapled fast the one to the other, the Souldier hath no more room in them, then two footbroad of a planke on the battellings and notwithstanding, although he clearly see laid before him so many ministers of death, for all the Peaces of Artillery that are planted on the adverse side, doe threaten him, and are not distant from his body the length of a Lance; and seeing that if he slipt ever so little aside, he should fall into the deepes; doth yet neverthelesse with undaunted heart, borne away on the wings of honour, which spurreth him onward, oppose himself as a worke to all their shot, and strives to passe by that so narrow a way into the enemies vessell: And what is most to bee admired, is to behold how scarce is one falne into that place; from whence hee shall never after arise untill the worlds end, when an∣other takes possession of the same place: and if hee doe likewise tumble into the Sea, which gapes like an enemy for him also, another and another will succeed unto him, without giving any respite to the times of their death, valour, and boldnesse, which is the greatest that may bee found among all the trances of war-fare. Those blessed ages were fortunate, which wanted the dreadfull furie of the devillish and murdering Peeces of Ordnance, to whose inventor I am verily perswaded that they render in hell an eternal guerdon for his Diabolicall invention; by which hee hath given power to an infamous, base, vile and dastardly arme, to bereave the most valorous Knight of life; and that without knowing how or from whence, in the midst of the stomack and courage that inflames and animates valorous mindes, there arives a wandring bullet (shot off per∣haps by him that was afraid, and fled at the very blaze of the powder, as he discharged the accursed Engine) and cuts off and finisheth in a moment the thoughts and life of him who merited to enjoy it many ages,

And whilest I consider this, I am about to say, That it grieves mee to have ever under∣taken the exercise of a Knight Errant in this our detestable age; for although no danger can affright mee, yet notwithstanding I live in jealousie, to thinke how powder and

Lead might deprive mee of the Power to make my self famous and renowned by the strength of mine Arme and the edge of my Sword throughout the face of the Earth, But let Heaven dispose as it pleaseth; for so much the more shall I bee esteemed, if I can compasse my pretentions, by how much the dangers were greater to which I opposed my self, then those a••chieved in foregoing times by Knights Adven∣turous.

Don-Quixote made all this prolixe Speech whilest the rest of his Companie did eate, wholly forgetting to taste one bit, although Sancho Panca did now and then put him in remembrance of his Victuales, saying, That hee should have leisure enough after to speak as much as he could desire. In those that heard was again renewed a kind of com∣passion, to see a man of so good a wit as hee seemed to bee, and of so good discourse in all the other matters which hee took in hand, to remain so cleerly devoid of it, when any occasion of speech were offered, treating of his accursed Chivalrie. The Curate applauded his discourse, affirming that hee produced very good reasons for all that hee had spoken in the favour of Armes; and that hee himself (although hee was learned and Graduated) was likewise of his opinion.

The Beaver being ended, and the Table-clothes taken away, whilest Maritornes did help her Mistris••e and her Daughter to make ready the Room where Don-Quixote had slept, for the Gentlewomen, wherein they alone might retire themselves that night. Don Fernando intreated the Captive to recount unto them the History of his life, for as much as hee suspected that it must have been rare and delightfull, as he gathered by the tokens hee gave, by coming into the lovely Zoraida's company. To which the Captive re∣plyed, That hee would accomplish his desire with a very good will, and that only hee feared that the discourse would not prove so savory as they expected: But yet for all that hee would tell it, because hee would not disobey him. The Curate and all the rest thanked him for his promise, and turned to request him again to beginne his discourse: and hee perceiving so many to sollicite him, said, That prayers were not requisite when commandements were of force: and therefore I desire you, quoth hee, to bee atten∣tive, and you shall hear a true discourse, to which perhaps no feigned invention may bee compared for variety or delight. The rest animated by these his words did ac∣commodate themselves with very great silence, and hee beholding their silence and expectation of his Historie, with a modest and pleasing voyce, began in this manner.

CHAP. XII.

Wherein the Captive recounteth his Life, and other Accidents.

IN a certain Village of the Mountains of Lion my linage had begin∣ning, wherewithall Nature dealt much more liberally then For∣tune, although my Father had the opinion amid'st the penury and poverty of that People, to bee a rich man, as indeed hee might have been, had hee but used as much care to hoord up his wealth, as prodigalitie to spend it. And this his liberall disposition pro∣ceeded from his being a Souldier in his youthfull yeers; for War is the School wherein the Miser is made Frank, and the Frank man Prodigall: and if among Souldiers wee finde some Wretches and Nig∣gards, they are accounted Monsters which are seldome seen. My Father passed the bounds of Liberalitie, and touched very neerly the confines of Prodigalitie; a thing nothing profitable for a married man, who had children that should succeed him in his name and being. My Father had three Sonnes, all men, and of yeers sufficient to

make an election of the state of life they meaned to leade: wherefore hee perceiving as hee himself was wont to say, that hee could not bridle his nature in that condition of spending, he resolved to deprive himself of the instrument and cause which made him such a spender and so liberall, to wit, of his Goods; without which Alexander the great himself would bee accounted a Miser; and therefore calling us all three toge∣ther on a day into his Chamber, hee used these or such like reasons to us.

Sonnes, to affirm that I love you well, may bee presumed, seeing I terme you my Sonnes: and yet it may bee suspected that I hate you seeing I doe not govern my self so well as I might in the Husbanding and increasing of your stock. But to the end that you may hence forth perceive that I affect you with a Fatherly love, and that I mean not to overthrow you like a step-Father, I will doe one thing to you which I have pondered, and with mature deliberation purposed these many dayes: You are all of age to ac∣cept an estate, or at least to make choice of some such exercise as may turn to your honour and profit at riper yeers: and therefore that which I have thought upon, is to divide my goods into four parts; the three I will bestow upon you, to every one that which appertains to him, without exceeding a jot; and I my self will reserve the fourth to live and maintain me with as long as it shall please Heaven to lend me breath. Yet I doe greatly desire that after every one of you is possest of his portion, hee would take one of the courses which I mean to propose. There is an old proverb in this our Spain, in mine own opinion very true (as ordinarily all proverbs are, being certain brief sentences collected out of long and discreet experiences) and it is this, The Church the Sea, or the Court: the meaning is, That whosoever would become wealthy, or worthy, must either follow the Church, haunt the Seas by exercising the Trade of Merchandizes, or get him a place of Service and entertainment in the Kings house; for men say, that A Kings Crumme is more worth then a Lords Loaf. This I say because I desire, and it is my will, that one of you doe follow his Book, another Merchandize, and the third the Warre, seeing that the service of his own house is a difficult thing to compasse. And although the Warre is not wont to inrich a man, yet it adds unto him great worth and renown. Within these eight dayes I doe mean to give you all your portions in money without defrauding you of a mite, as you shall see in effect: Therefore tell me now whether you mean to follow mine opinion and device in this which I have pro∣posed? And then hee commanded me by reason that I was the eldest, to make him an answer.

I, after I had intreated him not to make away his goods, but to spend and dispose of them as hee listed, seeing wee were both young and able enough to gain more; at last I concluded that I would accomplish his will, and that mine was to follow the Warres, therein serving God and my King together. The second brother made the same offer, and imploying his portion in Commodities would venture to the Indias. The youngest, and as I deeme the discreetest, said, That either hee would follow the Church, or goe at the least to Salamanca to finish his already commenced Studies. And as soon as wee had ended the agreement and election of our vocations my Father embraced us all, and afterwards performed unto us, in as short a time as hee had mentioned, all that hee promised; giving unto each of us a portion, amounting, if I doe well remember, to three thousand Duckets apeece in money; for an Uncle of ours bought all the goods and paid ready money, because hee would not have them made away from our own Family and Lineage. Wee all took our leaves of our good Father in one day, and in that instant it seeming to mee a great inhumanity to leave my Father so old and with so little means; I dealt so with him, as I constrained him to take back again two thousand Duckets of the three hee had given me, for as much as the rest was sufficient to furnish me in very good sort with all things requisite for a Souldier: My brothers, moved by mine example, did each of them give him a thousand Crowns; so that my Father re∣mained with four thousand Crowns in money, and three in Goods, as they were valued, which Goods hee would not sell, but keep them still in Stock. Finally, wee bade him (and our said Uncle) farewell, not without much feeling and many Tears on both sides: and they charged us that wee would from time to time acquaint them with

our successes, whether prosperous or adverse. Wee promised to performe it: and then embraceing us, and giving us his ••lessing, one departed towards Salamanca, a∣nother to Sivill, and my self to Alicante.

I arrived prosperously at Genova, and from thence went to Milaine, where I did ac∣commodate my selfe with armes, and other braveries used by souldiers, and departed from thence to settle my selfe in Piemonte, and being in my way towards the Citty of Alexandria de la Paglia, I heard newes that the great Duke of Alva did passe to∣wards Flanders. Wherefore changing my purpose, I went with him, and served him in all the expeditions hee made: I was present at the beheading of the Earles of Egm••nt and Hornes, and obtained at last to be Ensigne to a famous Captaine of Guada∣lasara, called Diego de Vrbina. Within a while after mine arrivall to Flanders, the news were divulged of the league that Pius Quintus the Pope, of famous memory, had made with the Venetians, and the King of Spaine, against our common enemy the Turk, who had gained by force the famous Island of Cypres, much about the same time, which Island belonged to the State of Venice, and was an unfortunate and lamentable losse. It was also certainly known, that the most noble Don Iohn of Austria, our good King Don Philips naturall Brother, did come downe for generall of this League, and the great provision that was made for the war was published every where.

All this did incite and stir on my minde and desire to be present at the expedition so much expected: and therefore although I had conjectures, and half promises to bee made a Captaine in the first occasion that should bee offerred, yet I resolved to leave all those hopes, & to go into Italy, as in effect I did. And my good fortune so disposed, as the Lord Don Iohn of Austria arrived just at the same time at Genova, and went towards Na∣ples, to joyn himself with the Venetian Navy, as he did after at Mess••na. In this most for∣tunate journey I was present, being by this made a Captain of Foot: to which honourable charge, I was mounted rather by my good fortune, then by my deserts. And that very day which was so fortunate to all Christendome; for therein the whole world was un∣deceived, and all the Nations thereof freed of all the errour they held, and beliefe they had, that the T••rk was invinciable at Sea: in that very day I say, wherein the swelling Stomack, and Ottomanicall pride was broken among so many happy men as were there (for the Christians that were slaine were much more happy then those which they left victorious alive) I alone was unfortunate, seeing that in exchange of some Naval Crowne, which I might expect, had I lived in the times of the ancient Romanes, I found my selfe the night ensuing that so famous a day, with my legges chained, and my hands manacled, which befell in this manner: Vchali King of Argiers, a bold and ventrous Pirate, hav••ng invested and distressed the Admirall of Malta (for onely three Knights remained alive, and those very sore wounded) Iohn Andrea's chiefe Gallie came to her succour wherein I went with my company: and doing what was requisite in such an oc∣casion, I leapt into the enemies vessel, the which falling off from that which had assaulted her, hindred my souldiers from following me; by which means I saw my selfe alone a∣midst mine enemies, against whom I could make no long resistance, they were so many. In fine, I was taken, full of wounds. Now as you may have heard, Vchali saved him∣selfe and all his squadron, whereby I became captive in his power, and onely remained sorrowfull among so many joyfull, and captive among so many freed: for that day fifteen thousand Christians, which came slaves and inchained in the Turkish Gallies, re∣covered their desired liberty. I was carried to Constantinople, where the great Turk Selim, made my Lord Generall of the sea, by reason that he had so well performed his duty in the battell, having brought away, for a witnesse of his valour, the Stan∣dard of the Order of Malta, I was the yeer insuing of 1572. in Navarino, rowing in the Admirall of the three Lanth••rn••s, and saw and noted there the oportunity that was lost, of taking all the Turkish Navy within the haven: for all the Ienisaries and o∣ther souldiers that were in it, made full account, that they should be set upon, even with∣in the very Port, and therefore trussed up all their baggage, and made ready their shoo's, to flie away presently to the land, being in no wise minded to expect the assault, our Navy did strike such terrour into them. But God disposed otherwise of the matter, not

through the fault or negligence of the Generall that governed our men, but for the sinnes of Christendome, and because God permits and wills that wee have alwaies some executioners to chastise us. In summe, Vchali got into Modon, which is an Island neer to Navarino, and landing his Men there, hee fortified the mouth of the Haven, and there remained untill Don Iohn departed. In this Voyage was taken the Gally called Presa, whereof the famous Pirate Barbarossas his sonne was Captain; it was surprized by the head Gally of Naples called the Shee-Wolfe, that was com∣manded by the Thunderbolt of Warre, the Father of Souldiers, that fortunate and never overthrown Don Alvaro de Bacan the Marquesse of Sancta Cruez. And here I will not forget to recount what befell at the taking of the Presa: this sonne of Bar∣barossas was so cruell, and used his Slaves so ill, that as soon as they that were rowing perceived the Shee-Wolfe to approach them, and that shee had overtaken them, they cast away their Oares all at one time, and laying hands on their Captain that stood on the Poop [Estanderil. p 44••] crying to them to row with more speed, and pas∣sing him from one bank to another, from the Poope to the Prow, they took so many bits out of him, as hee h••d scarce passed beyond the Mast, when his soul was already wasted to Hell; such was the cruelty wherewithall hee intreated them, and so great the hate they also bore towards him. Wee returned the next yeer after to Constanti∣nople, being that of seventie three, and there wee learned how Don Iohn had gained Tunez, and taking that Kingdome away from the Turks, had by installing Muley Hamet therein, cut away all Muley Hameda's hopes to raign again there, who was the most cruell and valiant Moor that ever lived.

The great Turk was very much grieved for this losse; and therefore using the sa∣gacitie wherewithall all his race were indued, hee made Peace with the Venetians which wished for it much more then hee did himself: And the yeer after of seventie and four he assaulted the Fortresse of Goleta, and the other Fortresse that Don Iohn had raised neer unto Tunez: And in all these occasions I was present, tyed to the Oare, without any hope of liberty; at least wise by ransome, being resolved never to signi∣fie by Letter my misfortunes to my Father. The Goleta was lost in fine, and also the Fortresse, before which two places lay in siege seventy five thousand Turks, and more then four hundred thousand Moors, and other Sarasins of all the other parts of Affrica, being furnished with such aboundance of Munition and Warlike Engines, and so many Pioneers as were able to cover Goleta and the Fortresse if every one did cast but his handfull of earth upon them. Thus was Goleta accounted untill then impregnable, first lost, the which did not happen through default of valour in the Defendants, who in defence thereof did all they could or ought to have done; but because experience shewed the facility wherewithall Trenches might bee raised in that desart sand; for though water had been found in it within two spans depth, the Turks could not finde it in the depth of two yards; and therefore filling many Sacks full of Sand, they raised their Trenches so high as they did surmount the walls of the Sconce, and did so gall the Defendants from them with their shot, as no one could stand to make any defence: It was a common report, that our men would not immure them∣selves within Goleta, but expect the enemie in the champain at their disembarquing: but those that gave this out spake widely, as men very little acquainted with the like Affairs: For if in Goleta and the Fortresse there were scarce seven thousand Souldiers, how could so few a number, were they ever so resolute, make a sallie, and remain in the Forts against so great a number of enemies? or how is it possible that the forces which are not seconded and supplied should not bee overcome, specially being besieged by many and obstinate enemies, and those in their own Countrey? But many others esteemed, and so did I likewise among the rest, that almighty God did a particular grace and favour unto Spain in that manner permitting to bee destroyed the stop and cloak of all wickednesse, and the Spundge and Moth of innumerable summes of money spent there unprofitably, without serving to any other end, then to preserve the memory of being gained by the Emperour Charles the fift, as if it had been requisite for the keeping of it eternall (as it is and shall be ever) that those stones should sustain it. The

Fortresse was also wonne; but the Turks were constrained to gain it span by span; for the Souldiers which defended it fought so manfully and resolutely, as the number of the enemies slain in two and twenty generall assaults which they gave unto it, did passe five and twenty thousand. Never a one was taken Prisoner but three hundred which survived their fellows; a certain and manifest token of their valour and strength, and how well they had defended themselves and kept their Fortresses with great magna∣nimity. A little Fort or Turret that stood in the mid'st of the place, under the com∣mand of Don Iohn Zonaguera a Valentian Gentleman, and famous Souldier, was yield∣ed upon composition, and Don Pedro de Puerto carrero, Generall of Goleta, was taken Prisoner who omitted no diligence possible to defend the place; but yet was so grieved to have lost it as hee dyed for very grief on the way towards Constantinople, whither they carried him Captive. The Generall likewise of the Fort, called Gabriel Cerbellon, being a Gentleman of Milan, and a great Engineer, and most resolute Souldier, was taken; and there dyed; in both the places many persons of worth, among which Pagan de Oria was one, a Knight of the Order of Saint Iohn, of a most noble disposition, as the exceeding liberality which hee used towards his brother the famous Iohn Andrea de Oria cleerly demonstrates, and that which rendred his death more deplorable, was, that hee was slain by certain Sarasins (which hee trusted, perceiving how the Fort was lost) who had offered to convey him thence in the habit of a Moor to Tabarca, which is a little Haven or Creek possest by the Genevoses that fish for Corrall in that coast•• These Sarasins cut off his head and brought it to the Generall of the Turkish Armie, who did accomplish in them the Spanish Proverd, That although the Treason pleaseth, yet is the Traytor hated: and so it is reported, that hee commanded those to bee hang∣ed that had brought him the present, because they had not brought it alive.

Among the Christians that were lost in the Fort, there was one called Don Pedro de Aguilar born in Andaluzia, in some Town whose name I have forgotten; hee had been ancient in the Fortresse, and was a Souldier of great account, and of a rare un∣derstanding, and specially had a particular grace in Poetrie: This I say, because his fortune brought him to bee Slave to my Patron, even into the very same Gally and and bench whereon I sate. This Gentleman made two Sonnets in form of Epitaphs, the one for the Goleta, the other for the Fort; and I will repeat them because I re∣member them very well, and doe believe that they will bee rather gratefull then any thing disgustfull to the Audients. As soon as ever the Captive named Don Pedro de Aguilar, Don Fernando beheld his Camarada's, and they all three did smile: And when hee began to talk of the Sonnets, one of them said, Before you passe further, I beseech you, good Sir, let me intreat you to tell me what became of that Don Pedro de Auguilar whom you have named. That which I know of that Affair, answered the Captive, is, That after hee had been two yeers in Constantinople, hee fled away in the attire of an Armenian with a Greek Spie, and I cannot tell whether hee recovered his liberty or no; although I suppose hee did: for within a yeer after I saw the Greek in Constantinople, but I had not the oportunitie to demand of him the successe of that Voyage. Hee came then into Spain, quoth the Gentleman; for that same Don Pedro is my brother, and dwells now at home in our own Town, very well, rich married, and a Father of three Sonnes. God bee thanked, quoth the Captive, for the infinite favour hee hath shewed unto him: for in mine opinion there is not on earth any content∣ment able to bee compared to that of recovering a mans lost libertie. I doe moreover, said the Gentleman, know the Sonnets which my brother composed. I pray you then, good Sir, quoth the Captive, repeat them; for perhaps you can say them better then I. With a very good will, answered the Gentleman, and that of the Goleta is thus.

CHAP. XIII.

Wherein is prosecuted the History of the Captive.

A SONNET.

O Happy Soules, which from this mortall Vaile Freed and exempted, through the good you wrought, Safe from the harmes, that here did you assaile; By your deserts, to highest Heaven were brought, Which here inflam'd by Wrath, and noble Thought, Shewed how much your forces did availe: When both your owne and forraign Bloods you taught, From sandie Shores, into the Deepes to traile. Your lives before your valours end deceased, In your tyr'd armes; which though they were a dying And vanquisht; yet on Victory have seiz'd. And this your life from servile thraldome flying, Ending, acquires, betweene the Sword and Wall, Heavens glory there, Fame here on Earth, for all.

I have it even in the very same manner, quoth the Captive. Well then, said the Gentleman that of the Fort is thus, if I doe not forget it:

A SONNET.

FRom midst the barron Earth, here overthrowne, In these sad Clods, which on the ground doe lie, Three thousand Souldiers holy Souls are flowne, And to a happier Mansion gone on hie: Here, when they did in vaine the vigour trie Of their strong Armes, to cost of many a one, After the most, through extreame t••ile did die: The cruell Sword a few did light upon: And this same plot eternally hath beene, With thousand dolefull memories repleate, As well this age, as in foregoing time. But from his cruell bosome Heav'n ne're yes Reciv'd sincerer soules, then were the last, Nor earth so valiant bodies, aye possest.

The Sonnets were not misliked: and the Captive was greatly recreated with the newes which he received of his companion, and prosecuting his Historie, he said. The Goleta, and the Fort being rendred, the Turkes gave order to dismantell Goleta: for the Fort was left in such sort, as there remained nothing up that might be overthrowne: and to doe it with more brevity and lesse labour, they undermined it in three places, but that which seemed least strong, could not be blowne up by any of them, which was the old walls; but all that which had remained a-foot of the new fortifications and workes of Fratin, fell downe to the ground with great facility: and this being ended, the Navy returned triumphant and victorious to Constantinople: where within a few moneths afterward my Lord Vchali died whom they called Vchali Fertax, which signifies in

the Turkish language, the scald or scurvie runagate, for hee was such: and it is a cu∣stome among the Turks to give one another nick-names either of the defects, or per∣fections and virtues which they have; and the reason hereof is, that among them all they have but four linages that have sur-names, and these doe contend with that of Ottoman's, for Nobility of blood: And all the rest, as I have said, doe take denomination, sometime from the blemishes of the bodie, and sometime from the virtues of the minde: And this scurvie fellow did row fourteen yeers, being the great Turks Slave, and did renounce his faith, being four and thirtie yeers old, for despight, and because hee might bee revenged on a Turk that gave him a cuff on the face as hee rowed; and his valour was so great, as without ascending by the dishonourable means and waies usually taken by the greatest minions about the great Turk, he came first to be King of Argiers, and after to bee Generall of the Sea, which is the third most noble charge and dignitie of all the Turkish Empire: Hee was born in Calabria, and was a good morall man, and used with great humanity his Slaves, whereof he had above three thousand, which were after his death divided as hee had left in his Testament, between the great Turk (who is ever an inheritour to every dead man, and hath a portion among the deceased his children) and his Runagates. I fell to the lot of a Venetian Runagate, who being a Ship-boy in a certain Vessell, was taken by Vchali, who loved him so tenderly, as hee was one of the deerest youths hee had, and hee became after the most cruell Run∣nagate that ever lived: Hee was called Azanaga, and came to bee very rich, and King of Argiers: With him I came from Constantinople somewhat contented in minde, because I should bee neerer unto Spain; not for that I meaned to write u••to any one of my unfortunate successe, but only to see whether fortune would prove more favorable to me in Argiers then at Constantinople; where I had attempted a thou∣sand waies to escape, but none of them sorted to any good effect: and I thought to search out in Argiers some other means to comp••sse that which I so greedily desired; for the hope of attaining libertie sometime had never abandoned me; and when in the contriving I thought, or put my designes in practice, and that the successe did not answer mine expectation, presently without forsaking me, it forged and sought out for another hope that might sustain mee, although it were debile and weake.

With this did I passe away my life, shut up in a Prison or House, which the Turks call Bathes, wherein they doe inclose the Captive Christians, as well those that belong to the King, as other particular mens, and those which they call of the Almazen, which is as much to say, as Slaves of the Counsell, who are deputed to serve the Citie in the publique works and other Affairs thereof; and these of all other Captives doe with most difficultie attain to libertie; free by reason they belo••g to the Commonalty, and have no particular Master; there is none with whom a man may treat of their Redemption, although they should have the price of their Ransome. To these Bathes, as I have said, some particular men carrie their Captives to bee kept, chiefly if they bee to bee Ransomed; for there they have them at their ease and secure, untill they bee redeemed. The Kings Captives of Ransome also, doe not goe forth to labour with the other poor crue, if it bee not when the paying of their Ransome is deferred; for then, to the end they may make them write for money more earnestly, they make them labour and goe to fetch Wood with the rest, which is no small toyl and trouble. I then was one of those of Ransome; for as soon as it was known how I was a Captain, notwithstanding that I told them of my little possibilitie and want of means, all could not prevaile to disswade them from consorting me with the multitude of Gentlemen, and those of Ransome: they put on me then a chain, rather to bee a token that I was there for my Ransome, then to keep me the better with it: And so I passed away my time there with many other Gentlemen, and men of marke, held and kept in there for their Ransome, And although both hunger and nakednesse did vexe us now and then, or rather evermore, yet nothing did afflict us so much, as to hear and see every mo∣ment the cruelties that my Master used towards Christians. Every day hee hanged up one, he set this man on a stake, and would cut off the others eares, and that for so little

occasion or wholy without it, as the very Turks themselves perceived, that hee did it not for any other cause, but because he had a will to do it, and that it was his naturall inclina∣tion to be a homicide of all humane kind. Onely one Spanish Souldier called such a one of Saavedra, was in his good grace, who although he did sundrie things that will remaine in the memory of that Nation for many yeeres, and all to the end to get his liberties; yet hee never strucke him, nor commanded him to bee strucken, nor said as much as an evill word unto him: and yet we all feared that he should be broched on a stake for the least of many things which he did, and himselfe did also dread it more then once; and if it were not that time denieth me leisure to doe it, I would recount unto you things done by this souldier, which might both entertain and astonish you much more then the relation of my life.

There were over the square court of our prison certain windowes that looked into it, and belonged to a certain rich and principall Moor; the which windowes (as ordi∣narily are all the Moors windowes) rather seemed to be holes then windows: and even these were also very closely covered and shut fast with linnen coverings. It therefore befell that standing one day upon the battlements of our prison with other three com∣panions, trying which of us could leap best in his shackles to passe away the time, and being alone (for all the other Christians were gone abroad to labour) I lifted up by chance mine eyes, and I saw thrust out at one of those so close-shut windows a cane, and a linnen tied at the end thereof, and the cane was mooved and wagged up and down, as if it had made signes, that wee should come and take it: wee looked upon it, and one of my companions went under the cane, to see whether they would let it fall, or what they would doe else but as soone as he approached it, the cane was lifted up, and did stirre it to eyther side, as if they had said (with wagging of the head) No, the Christian returned to us; and the cane being eftsoones let fall, and beginning to moove as it had done before, another of my fellowes went, and the same succeeded unto him, that did to the first. Finally, the third approached it, with no better suc∣cesse then the former two, which I perceiving, would not omit to trie my fortitude: and as soon as I came neere to stand under the cane, it was let slip and fell within the Bathes just at my feet I forthwith went to untie the linnen which was knotted, wherein I found tenn Zianiys, which are certaine pieces of base gold, used among the Moors, and worth, each of them ten Rials of our money. I leave to your discretion to think if I was not glad of my booty: certes my joy and admiration was much, to think whence that good might come unto us, but specially to my selfe, since the signes of re∣fusall to let it fall to the other, did confirme cleerly that the favour was only addrest to my self. I took my welcome money, broke the cane, and returned to the Battlements, and viewed the window earnestly, and perceived a very ••eautifull hand issue out there∣at, which did open and shut it again very speedily. By which imagining and thinking that some woman that dwelled in that house, had done us the charity and bene∣fit, in token of our thankfull minds, we made our courtesies after the Moorish fashion, by inclining of our heads, bending of the body, and pressing our hands to our brests. Within a while after, there appeared out of the same window a little crosse made of canes, which presently was taken in again: this signe did confirm us in the opinion, that there was some Christian woman captive in that place, and that it was she which did to us the courtesie: but the whitenesse of her hand, and her rich bracelets destroyed this presumption: although we did notwithstanding conjecture that it was some run∣nagate Christian, whom their Masters there doe very ordinarily take to wives, yea and account very good hap to light on one of them; for they are much more accounted of, then the women of the Nation it selfe.

Yet in all these Discourses we strayed very farr from the truth of the accident; and so from thence-forward, all our passing of the time was imployed in beholding that Win∣dow as our North, wherein had appeared the Starr of the cane: but fifteen daies past over, or we could descrie either it, or the hand again, or any other signe. And although in the meane time we endeavour all that we might to know who dwelled in that house, or whether there were any Runagate Christian therein, yet never a one could tell us

any other things, but that it belonged to a very rich and noble Moor, called Agui∣morato, who had been Constable of the Pata, a dignity among them of very great qualitie.

But when wee thought least that it would rain any more Zianiys, by that way wee saw the Cain suddainly to appear, and another linnen hanging on it, whose bulk was much greater: and this befell when the Bath was freed of concourse, and void, as the other time before. Wee made the accustomed triall, every one approaching it before me, but without effect untill I came; for presently as I approached it, it was permit∣ed to fall. I untied the knot, and found inwreathed in it fourty Duckets of Spanish gold with a Letter written in the Arabian tongue, and at the end thereof was drawn a very great crosse. I kissed the crosse, took up the money, and returned again to the bat∣tlements, and wee altogether made our receivers: The hand also appeared: I made signes that I would read the paper, and the window was shut incontinently. All of us were marvellously astonished, yet joyfull at that which had befaln us, and by reason that none of us understood the Arabian tongue, the desire that wee had to understand the contents of the Letter was surpassing great, but greater the difficultie to finde out some trustie person that might read it. In the end I resolved to trust in this affair a Runnagate of Murcia, who did professe himself to bee my very great friend, and having by my liberalitie and other good turns, done secretly, obliged him to bee secreet in the affair wherein I would use him: for some runagates are accustomed when they have an intention to return into the Christian Countries, to bring with the testimonies of the most principall Captives, wherein they inform, and in the amplest manner they may, how the Bearer is an honest man, and that hee hath ever done many good turns to the Christians, and that hee hath himself a desire to escape by the first commoditie. Some Runnagates there are which procure those testimonies sincerely, and with a good intention: Others take the benefit of them either by chance or industrie; who in∣tending to goe and rob into the Countries of Christians, if by chance they be astray or taken, bring forth their testimonies, and say, that by those papers may bee collected the purpose wherewithall they came, that is, to remain in Christian Countries; and that therefore they came abroad a Pyrating with the other Turks: and by this means they escape that first brunt, and are reconciled again to the Church, without receiving any harme at all: and when they espie their time, doe return again into Barbarie, to bee such as they were before. Others there are which procure those writings with a pure in∣tention, and doe after stay in Christian Countries. Well, this my friend was a Runna∣gate of this last kinde; who had the testimonies of all my Companions, wherein wee did commend him as amply as wee could devise: And certainly if the Moors had found those Papers about him, they would have burnt him for it. I understand how hee could speak the Arabian tongue very perfectly, and not only that alone, but also write it withall: yet before I would wholly break my minde to him, I requested him to reade mee that scrowle, which I had found by chance in a hole of my Cabine, hee o∣pened it, and stood a good while beholding and construing thereof, murmuring some∣what betweene his Teeth. I demanded therefore of him, whether hee understood it? And he answered that hee did very well, and that if I desired to have it translated ver∣batim, I should bring unto him Pen and Inke, to the end hee might doe it more com∣pletely; wee presently gave unto him that which hee asked, and hee did translate it by little and little, and havi••g finished it, hee said; All that is here in Spanish, is punctu∣ally, without omitting a Letter, the contents of the Moorish paper: And here you must note, that where it sayes Lela Marien, it meanes our Ladie the blessed Virgin Mary: Wee read the Paper whereof the contents were these which ensue.

WHen I was a Childe, my Father had a certain Christian Woman Captive, that taught me in mine own tongue all the Christian Religion, and told me many things of Lela Marien. The Christian dyed, and I know shee went not to the fire, but to Ala; for shee appeared to me twice after her death, and bade me goe to the Christian Countrey to see Lela Marien, who loved me much: I know not how I may goe: I have seen many Christians thorow this Window, and none of them hath seemed to me a Gentleman but thy self: I am very beautifull and young, and I have a great deal of Riches to carry with me. See thou whether thou canst contrive the way how wee may depart, and thou shalt there bee my Husband, if thou pleasest; and if thou wilt not, I doe not greatly care, for Lela Marien will provide me of a Husband. I wrote my self this Billet; bee there∣fore warie whom thou trustest to read it: Doe not trust any Moor; for they are all of them deceitfull Traytors. It is this that grieves me most of all; for I would not have thee, if it were possible, to disclose the matter to any living bodie: for if my Father did know it, hee would throw me down into a Well and oppresse me in it with stones. I will hang a thread to the end of the Cane, and therein thou mayst tye thine Answer. And if thou canst not write the Arabian, tell me thy minde by signes, for Lela Marien will make mee to understand it. Who with Ala preserve thee, and this Crosse which I doe many times kisse: for so the Captive commanded me to doe.

See, good Sir, if it was not great reason, that the reasons comprehended in this Letter should recreate and astonish us. And certainly the one and the other was so great, as the Runagate perceived well that the Paper was not found by chance, but was really addressed unto some one of us; and therefore desired us earnestly, that if that were true which hee suspected, that wee would trust and tell it unto him, and hee would adventure his life to procure our Liberties: And saying this, hee took out of his bosome a Crucifixe of mettle, and protested with very many teares by the God which that Image represented, in whom hee, although a sinner and wicked man, did most firmly believe, that hee would bee most loyall and secreet to us in all that which wee would discover unto him; for it seemed to him, and hee almost divined, that both himself and wee all should recover our liberties by her means that did write the Letter; and hee should then also see himself in the State which hee most desired, to wit, in the bosome of his Mother the holy Catholique Church; from which, through his ignorance and sinne, hee was departed and divided as an unprofitable and corrupt member. The Runnagate said this with so many teares, and such evident tokens of repentance, as all of us consented to open our mindes unto him, and declare the truth of the matter; and so we recounted unto him the whole discourse, without conceal∣ing any circumstance, and shewed unto him the Window by which the Cane was wont to appear; and hee marked the house from thence, and rested with speciall charge to

inform himself well of those that dwelled therein. Wee thought also that it was re∣quisite to answer the Moorish Ladies Letter: and therefore having him present that could so well perform that task, wee caused the Runnagate to draw out an answer presently as I did dilate it to him, which was punctually such as I will recount: for of all the most substantiall points that befell me in that Affair, no one is faln out of my memorie, nor shall ever as long as I have breath. In effect that which I answered to the Moor was this.

THE true Ala preserve you, deer Ladie, and that blessed Marien who is the true Mother of God, and is shee that hath put in your minde the desire to goe into the Christian Countries, because shee doth love you well: Pray unto her that shee will vouchsafe to instruct you how you may bring the matter to passe which shee commandeth you to doe; for shee is so good as shee will easily condiscend to doe it. As for my part I doe promise, as well for my self as for these other Christians that are with me, to doe for you all that wee are able to doe untill death. Doe not omit to write unto me, and acquaint me with your purposes, and I will answer you every time; for great Ala hath given us a Captive Christian that can write and reade your Language well, as you may perceive by this Paper; So that you may securely, and without any dread, advise us of all that you shall think good. And as concerning that which you say, that you will become my Wife after we arive to the Christian Countries, I doe pro∣mise you the same, as I am a good Christian; and you shall understand that the Christians doe accomplish their words far better then doe the Moors. Ala and Marien his Mother preserve you, my dearest Lady.

The Letter being written and inclosed, I expected two dayes, that the Bathes might be free of concourse, as it was wont, which as soone as it befell, I went up to my accusto∣med place of the battlements, to see whether the cane appeared; which was presently after thrust out at the window. And as soon as I perceived it, although I could not note who it was that set it, I shewed my paper, to give them warning to set on the threed: but it was already hanging thereon. To the which I tied the Letter, and with∣in a while after began to appear our Starr, with the white flagg of peace, and the knotted linnen; which they let fall, and I tooke up, and I found therein in divers sorts of money and gold more then fiftie Ducats, which redoubled our joyes more then fifty times, and confirmed the hope wee conceived of attayning Libertie. The very same night our Runnagate returned to us, and told, how hee had learned that the very same Moor which we were informed of before called Aguimorata, dwelt there, and was exces∣sive rich, and had one only daughter, the Heir of all his goods; of whom the common opinion throughout the City was, that shee was the fairest woman of all Barbarie: and that many of the Vice-Royes that came there, had demanded her to wife, but shee would never condiscend to any motion of mariage; and that hee likewise had under∣stood that shee had sometimes a Christian captive, which now was deceased: all which agreed with the contents of the Letter. We presently entred in Councell with the Run∣nagate, about the means wee were to use, to fetch away the Moor, and come all of us to Christian Lands, and in the end we concluded to attend for that time, the second

advice of Zoraida (for so was shee then called, who now means to name her selfe Ma∣ria) for as much as we cleerely perceived that it was shee, and none other, that could minister to us the meanes to remove all these difficulties. After wee had rested on this resolution, the Runagate bid us bee of good courage, for hee would ingage his life, or set us at liberty. Foure dayes after the Bathes were troubled with People; which was an occasion that the Cane appeared not all that while: But that impediment being re∣moved, and the accustomed solitude returned, the Cane did againe appeare with a lin∣nen hanging thereat so grosly impregned, as it promised to bee delivered of a most hap∣py burthen. Both Cane and Linnen bent themselves to mee, and in them I found ano∣ther Paper and a hundred Ducats in Gold, besides other small money. The Run∣nagate was present, and wee gave him the Letter to reade, the effect whereof was this:

I Know not good Sir, what order to give for our going into Spayne, nor hath Lela Marien told mee any thing concerning it, although I have demanded her counsaile. That which at present I conceive may bee done is, that I will through this windowe give unto you great store of money, wherewith you may redeeme your selfe and your friends: and let one of you goe into the Christians Countrey and buy a Barke, and after returne for his fellowes, and he shall finde mee in my fathers Garden, which is at the gate of Babazon, neere to the Sea-coast, where I meane to stay all the Summer, with my father aud my servants; from whence you may take mee out boldly by night, and cary mee to the Barke. And see well that thou wilt bee my Husband: For if thou wilt not, I will demand of Marien to chastise thee; and if thou darest trust no body to goe for the Vessell, Redeeme thy selfe and goe, for I know thou wilt rather returne then another, seeing thou art a Gentleman and a Christian; learne out the Garden, and when I see thee walke there where thou now art, I will make account that the Bath is emptie, and will give thee great store of money. Ala preserve thee, my deere friend.

These were the contents of the seco••d Letter, which being heard by us all, every one offered to be himselfe the ransomed person, and promised to goe and returne with all punctuality, and among the rest I also made a proffer of my selfe; to all which reso∣lutions the Runnagate opposed himselfe saying; That hee would consent in no wise that any one of us should bee freed, untill wee were all together delivered; for experi∣ence had taught him how evill Ransomed men were wont to keepe those promises which they passed in the times of their thraldome; for many times certaine principall captives had made that kinde of tryall, redeeming of some one or other that should goe to Valentia or Mallorca, with money to freight a Barke or Friggot, and returne for him that had ransomed them, and did never returne againe; for the recovered liberty, and the feare of adventuring to lose it againe concurring, did blot out of their memory all the other obligations of the world. And to confirme the truth which hee averred, hee briefly recounted unto us an accident which befell much about the same time, to certain Christian Gentlemen, the strangest as I suppose that ever hapned in those quar∣ters, wherein doe succeed every other day events full of wonder and admiration; and

and therefore concluded, that what ought and might bee done, was, that they would give unto him to buy a Bark, such money as they meant to imploy in the ransome of a Captive, and hee would buy it there in Argiers, under pretext of becoming a Mer∣chant and Sayler in Tetuan and that coast: and being once owner of a Bark, hee would easily devise how to have them out of the Baths and imbarque them all: how much more if the Moorish Ladie did as shee promised, give them money enough to ransome them all was it a most easie thing, they being free, to imbarque themselves at mid∣day? But the greatest difficultie in this Affair was, that the Moors use not to permit any Runnagate to buy any Barke or other small Vessell, but only great Vessels of War; for they suspect that hee that buyes a Barke, specially if hee bee a Spainiard, does it for no other end but to runne away to Christian Countries. And yet hee knew how to facilitate that inconvenience, by inducing a Tangerine Moor to become his Partner of the Barke and the gains that should hee gotten by the commodities thereof, and with this shadow he would become Lord of it himself, and therewithall accounted the matter ended. And although that my self and my Camarada's held it the better course to send unto Mallorca for one, as the Moorish Lady said, yet durst wee not contradict him, fearfull that if wee did not what hee would have us to doe, hee would discover us and indanger our lives, if hee did once detect Zoraida's practices, for the safe-guard of whose life wee would all of us most willingly adventure our own: and therefore wee determined to put our selves into Gods and the Runnagates hands: And so wee an∣swered at the same instant to Zoraida, telling her that wee would accomplish all that shee had admonished us, because shee had advertised us as well as if Lela Marien had told her what shee should say, and that the dilating or shortning of the Affair did con∣sist onely in her self. I did offer my self a new to become her Husband; and with this the day insuing, wherein the Bath was also free, shee sent me down at divers times by the Cane two thousand Ducats and a Letter, wherein shee said that shee would goe to her Fathers Garden the next Iumia, that is, the Friday following, and that before shee: went away shee would give us more money; and that if it were not enough, wee should advise her, and shee would give unto us as much as wee would demand; for her Father had so much treasure as hee would never perceive it; how much more seeing shee had and kept the keyes of all. Wee gave five hundred Crowns presently to the Runnagate to buy a Barke, and with eight hundred I redeemed my self, giving the money to a Valentian Merchant which was at that season in Argiers, who did ransome me of the King, taking me forth on his word, which hee passed to pay my ransome at the arrivall of the first Ship that should come from Valentia: For if hee had delivered the money instantly, it would have given occasion to the King, to suspect that my ransome was many dayes before in Argiers, and that the Merchant had kept it silently to make his benefit thereof. Finally, my Master was so cavilous, as I durst not in any wise pay him presently.

The Thursday before the Friday of the beautifull Zoraida's departure towards the garden, she gave unto us other two thousand Ducats, and did likewise advise us of her going away, intreating me, that as soon as I had ransomed my selfe, I should learn the way to the garden, and take occasion howsoever to goe to it, and see her. I answe∣red her briefly, that I would doe so, and prayed her that she would carefully commend our proceedings to Lela Marien, with those prayers which the captive had taught her. This being done, order was also given for the ransoming of my three companions, to facilitate our issue out of the Bathes, and also that they seeing me free, and them selves undelivered, might not bee troubled or perswaded by the Devill, to doe any thing in prejudice of Zoraida: For although that they, being the men of that quality they were, might assure me from this feare, I would not, for all that, adventure the mat∣ter; and therefore I caused them to bee ransomed by the same meanes that I was re∣deemed my selfe, giving all the money to the Merchant, that hee might with the more security passe his word for us: to whom yet we never did discover our practice and secret, by reason of the eminent danger of the discovery thereof.

CHAP. XIV.

Wherein the Captive prosecuteth the pleasant narration of his Life.

FIFTEEN dayes were not fully expired, when the Runnagate had bought him a very good Barke, able to hold thirty persons or more, and for the better colour and assurance of his businesse, hee made a Voyage to a place called Sargel, which is thirty leagues distant from Argiers toward the side of Oran, and is a great place of traffique for drie figs. Hee made this Voyage twice or thrice in company with the Tagarine, of whom wee made mention; and the name of Tagarino is in Barbary given to the Moores of Arragon, Granada and Mudesares. And in the Kingdome of Fez those Mudesares are called Elehes, and are the Nation which that King doth most imploy in warlike affaires. You shall therefore vnderstand, that every time hee passed by with his Barke, hee did cast Anchor in a little Creeke, twice the shot of a Cros-bow from the Garden wherein Zoraida attended; and there the Runnagate would in very good earnest exercise himselfe with the Moores that rowed, either to flie, or else to assault one another in jest, as hee meant to doe after in good earnest, and would now and then goe to Zoraidaes Garden and demand fruits, which her father would bestow upon him, without knowing what hee was; and although hee desired to have spoken with Zoraida, as hee told mee afterward himselfe, and have informed her how it was hee that was to carry her away by my direction into the land of Christians, and that shee should therefore live cheerefull and secure, yet was it never possible, for∣asmuch as the women of that Nation doe not suffer themselves to bee viewed by any Moore or Turke, if hee bee not their Husband, or that their Parents command them, yet doe they haunt and communicate themselves to Christian captives freely, and that sometimes more then is convenient, and truly it would have grieved mee, that he should have spoken to her, for perhaps it would have perplexed her extraordinarily, to see her affaire committed to the trust of a Runnagate; but God who did otherwise dispose it, did not concur with this good desire of our Runagate, who seeing how safely hee went and returned from Sargel, and that hee sounded when and where hee pleased, and that the Tagarino his Partner, did only what he liked, and that I was ransomed, and nothing else wanting but to finde out some Christian that would rowe; he bad me bethink my self, what men I would bring away with me, beside those that I had ransomed, and that I should warn them to be ready against the next Friday, wherein hee was resolved that we should depart.

Seeing this, I spake to twelve Spaniards very lusty rowers, and those that could with most liberty get out of the Citty: and it was not a little matter to finde so many there at that time, for there were twenty Gallies abroade a robbing, which had carried all the other rowers with them, and these were left behinde, because their Master did keepe at home that Summer to finish a Galley that was on the Stockes a making. To these I said nothing else, but onely warned them that the Friday insuing in the evening, they should closely steale out by one and one, and goe towards Aguimorates Garden, and there expect mee untill I came unto them. I gave this advice to every one of them a∣part, with order also, that although they saw any other Christians there, they should tell them nothing else, but that I had commanded them to expect mee in that place.

This diligence being used, yet wanted there another, which was the most expedient of all, to wit, to advise Zoraida of the termes wherein our affaires did stand, to the end she might be likewise ready and prepared, and not afrighted, though we did assault

her before the time that she could imagine the Barke of the Christians to bee come to fetch her, and therefore I resolved to goe my selfe into the Garden, and see whether I might speake with her, and taking the occasion to goe and gather some Herbes; I went unto it the day before our departure, and the first person with whom I encountred, was her father, who demanded of mee in a language which in all Barbarie and Con∣stantinople is usually spoken by the Moores to their Captives, and is neyther Arabian, Spanish, nor of any other Nation, but rather a mixture of all languages, wherewith all of us understand one another: Hee, I say, in that kinde of speech demanded of mee, what I sought for in that his Garden, and to whom I did belong? I answered, that I was one Arnaute Mami his slave (and this, because I was very certainely in∣formed that hee was his entire friend) and that I came thither to gather of all sorts of herbs to make a Sallad: hee consequently asked of mee whether I was a man of Ran∣some or no, and how much my Master demanded for mee? And being in those que∣stions and demands, the beautifull Zoraida descended from the house into the Garden, who had espied mee a good while before: And as the Moorish women doe not great∣ly estrange themselves from the sight of Christians, nor are in their behaviour or con∣versation, with them, any thing squeamish, as wee have said already, shee did not greatly feare to approach the place where her Father talked with me, but rather her Fa∣ther perceiving that shee came on slowly, did call, and commanded her to draw neer.

It were a thing impossible for mee to recount the g••••at beauty and gallant dispositi∣on, or the bravery and riches of attyre, wherein my beloved Zoraida then shewed her self to mine eyes. I will only say this, that there hanged more Pearles at her eares, su∣perlative faire neck and haire, then shee hath hayres on her head; about the wrests of her legs, which were naked, after the manner of her Countrey, shee wore two Car∣caxes (for so the manicles or bracelets of the feete are called in the Morisco tongue) of the finest Gold, wherein were inchaced so many Diamonds, that as shee told mee af∣ter, her father valued them at twenty thousand Crownes; and those about the wrests of her hands, were of equall esteeme, Her Pearles were many, and those most orient: for all the chief bravery and ornament of the Moorish Ladies consists in the adorning of themselves with Pearles and Pearle-seed, by reason whereof there is more Pearles and Pearle-seed to bee found among the Moores, then among all other Nations of the World: And Zoraidaes father had the fame to have many, and those the very best that were in Argiers; and also above two hundred thousand Ducats of Spanish gold: of all which was shee the Lady who now is mine. And if with all this ornament shee could then seeme faire, by the reliques that have remained unto her among so many la∣bours, may bee easily guessed, what shee would have beene in the time of prosperitie. For all of us doe know, that the beauty of some women hath limited dayes and seasons, and requireth certaine accidents either to diminish or increase it, and it is a thing natu∣rall to the passions of the minde, eyther to rayse or abase it; but most commonly they wholly destroy it. To bee briefe, I say, that shee arived to the place where wee dis∣coursed at that time most richly attyred, and beautifull beyond measure, or I at least deemed her the fairest that I had ever heheld untill then: and herewithall remembring the Obligation wherein shee had tyed mee, thought that some Deitie had pre∣sented it selfe to my view, being come from Heaven to the Earth, for my recreation and Reliefe.

As soone as shee was arived, her father told her in her owne language, how I was his friend Arnaute Mami his captive, and that I came there to gather a Sallad: than shee taking the speech, demanded in that medley of tongues of which I have spoken, whether I was a Gentleman, and what the reason was why I redeemed not my selfe? I made answere that I was already ransomed, and by the Ransome might bee conjectu∣red, in how much my Master valued me, seeing hee had for my libertie a thousand and five hundred Coltamis. To this shee answered. In good sooth, if thou wert my fathers, I would cause him not to give thee for twice as much more; for you Christians are great Lyers, and doe make every one of your selves poore men, to defraud the Moores of their due Ransome. It may well bee so, Maddam, quoth I: But

I have, for my part used all truth in this affayre with my Master, and doe, and will use truth with as many persons as I shall ever have occasion to treat with in this World.

And when doest thou goe away, quoth Zoraida? To morrow, as I beleeve, quoth I. For there is a French Vessell here which sets forth to morrow, and I mean to de∣part in her. Were it not better, replyed Zoraida, to expect untill Vessells come out of Spain, and goe away with them, then with those of France which are not your friends? No, quoth I, although if it were true as the news runne, that there comes a Vessell from Spain, I would attend it; but yet it is more certain that I shall depart to morrow: for the desire I have to see my self at home in my Countrey, and with those persons whom I love, is so great, as it will not permit me to expect any other commoditie that fore-slowes it self, bee it never so good. Thou art doubtlesly mar∣ried in thy Countrie, said Zoraida; and therefore desir••st to goe see thy Wife. I am not married, quoth I; but I have passed my word to marry as soon as I am there safely arrived. And is shee beautifull to whom thou hast past it, quoth Zoraida? So beau∣tifull, said I, as to indeer it and tell you the truth, shee is very like unto your selfe. Hereat her Father laughed very heartily, and said, In good earnest, Christian, shee must bee very fair that may compare with my daughter, who is the most beautifull of all this Kingdom; and if thou wilt not beleeve me, look on her well, and thou shalt see that I tell thee but the truth. Hee himself, as most perfect in the tongue, did serve for the interpreter of most of our speeches; for although shee could speak that ille∣gitimate language which is there in use, yet did shee manifest her minde more by signes then by words.

Whilst thus we reasoned of many matters, there came running towards us a certaine Moor, and told his Master how four Turkes had leaped over the Garden walls, and were gathering the fruits, although they were not yet ripe. The old man and his daugh∣ter Zoraida started hereat; for it is an universall and Naturall defect in the Moors to fear the Turks, but specially the Souldiers of that Nation, who are commonly so insolent, and have such command over the Moors that are their subjects, as they doe use them worse then if they were their slaves. Therefore Zoraida's father said unto her; Daugh∣ter, retire thy self into the house, and keep thy self in whilest I goe speake to those Doggs; and thou, Christian, goe and seek out thine Hearbs, and depart in a good hour, and I pray Ala to conduct thee safely to thy Countrey. I inclined my self to him, and hee departed to search out the Turks, leaving mee alone with Zoraida, who began to make adoe as if shee went whither her father had commanded her. But scarce was hee covered among the Trees of the Garden, when she returned to me with her eyes full of teares, said Amexi Christiano, Amexi? that is, Goest thou away Christian, goest thou away? I answered, yes Ladie, that I doe; but I will never depart with∣out thee: expect mee the next Friday, and bee not affrighted when thou shalt see us; for wee will goe to the Christian Countrey then without all doubt. This I said to her in such sort, as shee understood all my words very well; and casting her arme over my neck, shee began to travell with languishing steps towards the house; and fortune would (which might have been very ill, if Heaven had not rectified it) that as wee walked together in that manner and forme, her Father (who did by this return, after hee had caused the Turks to depart) espyed us; and wee saw also very well how hee had perceived us; wherefore Zoraida, who is very discreet would not take away her arme from my neck, but rather drew neerer unto me, and laid her head on my brest, and bowed her knees a little, with evident token that shee swouned; and I likewise made as though I did sustain her up by force. Her Father came running over towards us, and seeing his Daughter in that state, demanded the cause of her; but seeing shee made no answer, hee himself said, Shee doubtlesly is dismaid by the suddain affright shee took at the entrance of those Doggs: And taking her away from me, hee bowed her to his own brest; and shee breathing out a sigh, with her eyes yet full of teares, said again, Amexi Christiano, Amexi: Goe away Christian, goe away. To which her Father, replyed, There is no cause, Daughter, why the Christian should goe away, for

hee hath done thee no harme, and the Turks are already departed. Sir, they have affrighted her (quoth I) as you have said; but yet since shee hath commanded me to goe away, I will not offend her; therefore rest in peace; for I will return, if it please you to give mee leave, for herbs to this garden when it is needfull; for my Master saies, none better are to be found for Sallads in any garden then you have in this. Come as oft as thou wilt said Aguimorato, for my daughter saies not this, in respect that thou or any other Christian hath offended her, but that, meaning to say, that the Turkes should goe away, she bad thee to depart, or else she spake it because it is time for thee to gather thine Herbs.

With this I took leave of both, and shee seemed at the instant of my departure to have had her heart torne away from her as shee departed with her Father; and I under co∣lour of seeking Herbs, went about all the Garden at my leisure, and viewed all the sal∣lies, and the entrances thereof, the strength of the house, and the commodities that might bee offered to facilitate our enterprise. This being done, I came home and made a relation to the Runnagate and my other fellowes of all that had passed, and did long infinitely to see the houre wherein I might, without any af••right or danger, possesse that happinesse which fortune in the faire and lovely Zoraida offered unto me. In fine, the time passed over, and the so much desired day and terme arived, and every one of us following the order, which with mature consideration and long discourse wee had agreed on, wee found the good successe wee desired: For the very Friday following the day wherein I had spoken with Zoraida in the Garden, Morrenago (for so was the Runnagate called) neer night cast Anchor almost right before the place wherein the beautifull Zoraida remained. The Christians also that were to row were ready, and hidden in sundry places thereabouts. All were suspended, and resolutly expected my comming, desirous to set upon the Barke that was before their face; for they knew not of the agreement that was betweene me and the Runnagate; but rather made full account that they were to gain their liberty by force of Armes, and killing the Moors that came in that Vessell.

It therefore befell, that as soon as I and my fellows appeared, all the rest that were hidden, and espyed us, made forthwith over towards us. This was at an hour when the Citie Gates were shut, and never a body abroad among all those Fields: And when wee were all together, wee were in doubt whether it would bee best first to goe and fetch Zoraida, or to imprison and stone the Tagerine Moors that rowed in the Frigat. And being in this doubt, the Runnagate came to us, asking upon what wee stayed, for it was now high time to bee going away, and all his Moors were wretchlesse and the greater number of them asleep. Wee told him then the cause of our stay: And hee answered, That it was of most importance first to subject the Vessell, which might bee done with very great facility, and without any perill; and that wee might goe after for Zoraida. His opinion liked us all very well; and therefore without lingring any longer, hee leading the way, wee came to the Vessell, and hee himself leaping in first of all, set hand to his Falchion, and said in Morisco, Let none of you that is here stir himself if hee love his life. And saying so, all the rest of the Christians entred. The Moors which were of little Spirit, hearing their Master say so, were marvellously a∣mazed, and without daring any one of them to set hand to their Armes, which were but a few at all, they suffered themselves very quietly to bee taken and bound by the Christians, which did it very dexteriously, threatning them, that if they did let slip the least out-cry, they should presently bee all put to the Sword. This being finished, and the half of our people remaining in their Guard, wee that were left, con∣ducted also by the Runnagate, went towards Aquimoratus Garden; the doore thereof did, by very good hap, open with as little noyse as if it had had no lock at all: Whereupon wee went with great quietnesse and silence towards the house, unseen or espied of any.

The beautifull Zoraida was the while expecting us at a window, and as soon as shee saw people approach, demanded with a low voyce whether wee were Nizarans, as if shee would say or ask whether wee were Christians? I answered that wee were, and

willed her to come down. As soon as shee knew me shee stayed not a Minute, but without answering any word came down in an instant; and opening the door shewed her self to us all, more beautifull and richly attyred then I am able in any sort to ex∣presse. As soon as I saw her I took her by the hand and kissed it: the same did the Runnagate, and my two Camarada's; and all the rest which knew not the matter, did as they had seen us doe before them; for it seemed that wee did no more but give her thanks, and acknowledge her the auctresse of all our liberties. The Runnagate de∣manded of her in her own language, whether her Father were in the Garden, or no? Shee answered that hee was, and that hee slept. Then will it bee requisite, quoth the Runnagate, to rouse him, and bear him and all the other things of worth in this Garden away with us. That shall not bee so (quoth shee) for I will have no man to touch my Father; and in this house there is nothing of value, but that which I mean to carrie away with my self, which is so much as will bee sufficient to cheer and inrich you all; as, if you will stay but a while, you shall perceive.

And saying so, shee entred again in into the house, promising to return to us spee∣dily, and bade us stand still without making any noyse. I demanded of the Runnagate what speech had passed betwen them? And hee told mee all shee had said. And I an∣swered him again, that I would not have Zoraida's will transgrest in any sort. By this time she returned laden with a little Casket full of Gold, so that shee was scarceable to bear it. And her Father in the mean season, by bad fortune, awaked, and heard the noise that was beneath in his Garden, and looking out at a Window, hee perceived that they were all Christians that were in it; and therefore cried out in a loud and un∣measurable manner, in the Arabian tongue, Christians, Christians, Theeves, Theeves; by which cries wee were all of us structen into very great fear and confusion: but the Runnagate seeing the perill wherein wee were, and how neerly it concerned him to come off from that enterprize, before hee were discovered, ranne up very speedily to the place where Aquimorato stood, and some of our fellowes accompanied him (for I durst not abandon Zoraida, who had faln between mine armes all amazed:) and in conclusion, those which had mounted behaved themselves so well, as they brought Aquimorato down in a trice, having tyed his hands and set a gagg in his mouth which hind••ed his speech, threatning him that if hee did speak but a word it should cost him his life.

When his Daughter saw him shee covered her eyes, because shee would not behold him: And hee marvelled, wholly ignoring with how good a will shee came away with us: but then considering that nothing was so requisite as our leggs, wee did with all velocitie and dilligence get into the Frigat; for our Companions did perplexedly ex∣pect our return, half afraid that some disgrace had befaln us. Scarce were two hours of the night overrunne, when wee were all imbarked: and then wee unmanacled Zoraida's Fathers hands, and took the cloth out of his mouth: But the Runnagate did again admonish him, that as hee tendred his life, hee should not speake one word. Hee beholding his Daughter likewise there, began to sigh very feelingly, but chiefly perceiving me to hold her so straightly embraced, and that shee made no resistance, nor did complain or seem coy, but stood quiet: But yet for all that hee kept silence, fearing lest they should put the Runnagates menaces in execution. Zoraida seeing her self now safe within the Barke, and that wee were ready to row away, look∣ing on her Father and the other Moors that were tyed therein, shee intreated the Run∣agate to tell mee how shee desired me to doe her the favour to set those Moors and her Father at liberty; for shee would rather cast her self into the Sea then see a Fa∣ther who had loved her so dearly carried away captive before her eyes, and that also by her occasion. The Runnagate told me her minde, and I answered how I was very well pleased it should bee so. But hee replyed, That it was in no sort expedient, by reason that if they were landed there, they would presently raise the Countrey and put the whole Citie into a tumult, and cause certaine light Frigots to bee maned and sent out in our pursuit; and lay both Sea and Land for us, in such sort as it would be impossible for us to escape; but what was at the present possible to bee done, was to give

them libertie at the first Christian Countrey whereat wee happened to arive.

All of us agreed to this opinion, and Zeraida also (to whom reason was given of the motives wee had, not to free them forthwith, and accomplish her will therein) re∣mained satisfied; and therefore presently with joyfull silence and cheerfull diligence every one of our lustie Rowers seizing upon his Oare, wee began, after wee had com∣mended our selves unto Almighty God, to lanch forth, and addresse our course to∣wards the ••sles of Mallorca, which is the neerest Christian Countrey, but by reason that the winde blew somwhat from the Mountaines, and that the Sea began to be rough, it was not possible to continue that course, and so wee were forced to approach the shore, and goe by little and little towards Oran, not without great grief and anguish, for feare to bee espied by the towne of Sargel, which is on that coast, and falls some se∣ventie leagues beyond Argiers: and wee did likewise feare to meete in that passage some Galliot, of those which come ordinarily with Merchandize from Tetuan, al∣though every one of us for himselfe, and for all together did presume, that if wee in∣countred a Galliot of Merchandize, so it were not a Pyrate, that not only wee would not bee lost, but rather would take the Vessell, that therein wee might with more secu∣ritie finish our Voyage. Zoraida, whilest thus wee sailed, went with her head betweene my hands, because shee would not looke on her Father; and I felt her, how shee was still invoking of Lela Marien to assist us; and having sayled about some thirty leagues the morning overtook us about some three Musquet shot from Land, in a place that seemed to bee Desart, and free from all accesse of those that might discover us; and yet for all that, wee got by might and maine, somwhat further into the Seas that now was become a little calmer; and having entred some two leagues into the Maine, order was given that they should row by turnes, whilest they did refresh themselves and take a little sustenance; for the Barke was very well furnished with Victuals, although those which did row refused the offer, saying, that then it was no time to repose, and that they should set those that did not row to dinner; for they would not yet in any sort let goe their Oares. It being done as they had said, the winde did rise so much as it made us abandoning our Oares, to set sail, and direct our Boat towards Oran, being unable to take any other course: All was done with very great speed; and so wee made by the sail more then eight miles an hour, free from all other fear then that of encountring some Vessell of warre. Wee gave the Moors our Prisoners their dinner, and the Runnagate comforted them, saying, That they went not as Prisoners, for they should receive their Libertie upon the first commodity that were proffered: The same was likewise said of Zoraida's Father, who returned them this answer: I would easily expect and believe any other thing, O Christians, of your liberalitie and honourable manner of proceeding: but doe not think that I am so simple, as once to imagine that you will give me my Libertie; for you did never expose your self to the danger of despoyling me thereof with intention to return it me so prodigally again, especially knowing, as you doe, who I am, and the profit you may reap by giving me it again, to which profit if you will put a name, and tell me how much would you demand, I doe even from hence offer unto you all that which you will seek for me, and for that un∣fortunate Daughter of mine: or if you will not deliver me, I will give you it for her alone, who is the greatest and the best part of my Soul. And saying so, hee began to weep so bitterly, as hee moved us all to compassion and forced Zoraida to look upon him, who seeing him weep was so strangely moved, as arising from my feet, shee went and embraced her Father, and laying her face upon his they began together so tender a lamentation as many of us that were in the Bark were forced to keep them companie; but when her Father noted her to bee so richly adorned, and with so many Jewells on hee asked her in his own language, How haps this, Daughter, that yesternight late, before this terrible disaster befell us wherein wee are plunged, I saw thee attyred in thine ordinarie houshold array, and that now, without having had any leisure to apparell thy self, or having given thee any glad tidings, for whose solemnizing thou oughtest to adorn and publish thy selfe, I doe view thee thus clad in the richest attire which I could bestow upon thee when our fortune was most favourable? Answer me to this,

for thou hast suspended and astonished me more then the very disgrace it self wherein I am.

All that the Moor said to his Daughter, the Runnagate declared unto us; and shee did not answer a word to him: But when hee saw the little Coffers lie at one side of the Barke wherein shee was wont to keep her Jewells, and that hee knew very well shee had left at Argiers, and not brought to the Garden, hee was much more amazed, and demanded of her how that Coffer was come into our possession, and what things shee had there within it? To which the Runnagate, without attending that Zoraida should answer him, said, Sir, doe not trouble your self by demanding so many things of your Daughter Zoraida; for with one that I will say, I shall satisfie them all: and therefore you shall understand that shee is a Christian, and hath been the file that cut off our chains, and is the Libertie it self of our Captivity; and shee goeth along with us of her own free will, as content (if mine imagination doe not wrong me) to see her self in this State, as hee is that commeth out of darknesse to the light, from death unto life, and out of pain into glorie. Is it true, Daughter, which this man saies, quoth the Moor? (It is, answered Zoraida:) That thou in effect art a Christian, replyed the old man, and shee that hath put her Father into his enemies hands? To which Zoraida answered, I am shee that is a Christian, but not shee that hath brought thee to this passe: for my desire did never so estrange it selfe from thee, as to abandon or harme thee, but only endeavoured to doe my self good. And what good hast thou done thy self, Daughter? Demand that, said shee, of Lela Marien, for shee can therein inform thee better then I can.

Scarce had the Moor heard her say so, when with incredible haste hee threw him∣self headlong into the Sea, wherein hee had been questionlesly drowned, if the long apparell hee wore on had not kept him up a while above the water. Zoraida cryed out to us to save him: and so wee all presently ran, and laying hold on a part of his Turkish Robe, drew him up half drowned, and wholly devoid of feeling: Whereat Zoraida was so grieved, that shee lamented him as dolefully as if hee had been dead. There wee laid him with his mouth downward, and hee avoided a great quantity of water, and after the space of two hours returned to himself again: and in the mean time the winde also turning; it did drive us towards the Coast; so that wee were constrained to keep our selves by very force of Armes from striking upon it; and our good for∣tune directing us, wee arrived to a little Creek at the side of a certain Cape or Pro∣montorie, called by the Moors, The Cape of the Cava Rumia, which in our Language signifies The ill Christian Woman: and the Moors hold it for a tradition, that in the very same place was the Cava buried, for whom Spain was lost, and conquered by the Moors: For Cava in their language signifies an ill Woman, and Rumia a Christian: yea, and they hold it for a signe of misfortune to arrive or cast Anchor there, when meer necessity drives them thither; without which they never approach it: yet did it not prove to us the shelter of an ill woman, but the secure Heaven of our safety. Wee sent our Sentinels a shore, and never let the Oares slip out of our hands: Wee did likewise eate of the Runnagates Provision, and heartily besought Almighty God and our Ladie to assist and favour us with a happy end to so luckie a beginning: And wee agreed upon Zoraida's intreatie, to set her Father and the other Moors that we had tyed a land in that place; for shee was of so tender and compassionate a minde as shee could in no wise brook to see her Father tyed in her presence, or her countrey-men borne away Captives: wherefore wee made her a promise, that wee would at our departure let them all goe away, seeing wee incur'd no danger by leaving them in that inhabitable Desart: Our Prayers were not so vain but that they found gentle accep∣tance in Heaven which presently changed the Winde and appeased the Sea, inviting us cheerfully to returne to it again, and prosecute our commenced Voyage.

Seeing that the weather was favourable wee loosed the Moors and set them all a land one by one; and comming to dis-imbarque Zoraida's Father, who was by that time wholly come to himself, hee said, For what doe you conjecture, Christians, that this bad woman is glad that you give me liberty? Doe you think that shee doth it for

pittie that shee takes of me? No truely; but shee doth it only to remove the hin∣derance my presence gave her when shee would execute her unlawfull desires: Nor ought you to believe that shee is moved to change Religion, by reason that shee under∣stands yours to be better then her own; but only because she knows licentiousnesse to bee more publiquely and freely practised in your Countrey then among us: And then turning to Zoraida, whom I and another Christian held fast by both the armes lest shee should doe some desperate act, hee said, O infamous Gyrle, and ill-advised Mayden! where doest thou runne thus blinded and distracted, in the power of those Doggs our naturall enemies? Cursed bee the hour wherein I ingendred thee, and cursed the de∣lights and pleasures wherein thou wast nousled. I perceiving that hee was not like to make an end of his execrations so soon as I could wish, had him set on shore, and thence hee prosecuted his Maledictions and Plaints, praying unto Makomet that hee would intercede with Ala, that wee might bee all destroyed, confounded and cast away. And when wee could heare his words no longer, by reason that wee set sail, wee per∣ceived his works, that were, to pluck his Beard, teare his Haire, and cast himself on the ground; but once hee did lift vp his voyce so high, as that wee heard him say, Returne beloved Daughter, returne to the land, for I doe pardon thee all that thou hast done; and deliver that money to those men, for it is now their own; and return thou to com∣fort thy sad and desolate Father, who will forsake his life on these desolate sands, if thou do'st abandon him.

Zoraida heard him say all this, and lamented thereat, but knew not how to speak, or answer him any other thing but this: Father mine, I pray Ala, that Lela Marien, who hath been the cause of my becomming a Christian, may likewise comfort thee in thy sor∣row. Ala knows well, that I could doe none other then I did, and that these Christians doe owe me nothing for my good will, seeing that though I had not come away with them, but remained at my house, yet had it been impossible (such was the haste where∣withall my soule pres••ed mee) not to have executed this my purpose; which seemes to mee to bee as good, as thou, O beloved Father, doest account it wicked. Shee said this in a time that neither her Father could heare her, nor wee behold him: and therefore, after I had comforted Zoraida, wee did thenceforth onely attend our Voyage, which was so much holpen by the favourable winde, as wee made full ac∣count to bee the next day on the Coast of Spaine: but, as good very seldome, or rather never betides a man thorowly and wholly, without being accompanied or followed by some evill which troubles and assaults it, our fortune would, or rather the maledictions of the Moore, powred on his Daughter: (for the Curses of any Father whatsoever are to bee feared) that being ingulfed three houres within night, and going before the winde with a full Sayle, and our Oares set up, because the pro∣sperous winde had rid us of the labour of rowing, wee saw neere unto us by the light of the Moone that shined very cleerely, a round vessell which with all her Sailes spread, did crosse before us into the Sea, and that so neerely, as wee were faine to strike downe her Saile, that wee might avoide the shog shee was like to give us; and those that were in her, had on the other side laboured also what they might, to turne her out of our way, standing all of them on the hatches to demand of us what wee were, from whence wee came, and whether wee did Saile? But by reason that they spake French, the Runnagate bade us not to speake a word, saying, Let none an∣swer, for these are French Pirates which make their booty of every body. For this cause none of us answered: and being passed a little forward, and that the Ship remained in the Lee of us, they suddenly shot off two Peeces of Artillery, and as I thinke, both of them had chaine Bullets, for with the one they cut our Mast asun∣der, and overthrew it and the Saile into the sea, and instantly after they discharged another, the Bullet alighting in our Barke, did pierce it thorow and thorow, with∣out doing any other hurt: but wee, seeing that our vessell began to sinke, began all to crie out, and request them to succour us, and prayed them that they would take us into their vessell, for wee were a drowning. Then they came amaine, and ca∣sting out their Cock-boate, there entred into it as good as a doozen Frenchmen,

well appointed with their Harcabuzes and Matches lighted, and so approached un∣to us; and perceiving how few wee were, and that the Barke did sinke, they received us into their boate, saying, that because wee had used the discourtesie of not mak∣ing them answer, that mis-fortune had befalne us. Our Runnagate about this time tooke the coffer wherein Zoraida's treasures were kept, and threw it into the Sea unperceived of any.

In conclusion, wee went all of us into the great vessell with the Frenchmen who after they had informed themselves of all that which they desired to know, as if they were our Capitall Enemies; they afterward dispoy••ed us of all that ever wee had about us, and of Zoraida they tooke all, even unto her very bracelets, that shee wore on the wrests of her feete. But the wrong they did to Zoraida did not afflict me so much as the feare I conceived, that after they had taken away from her, her most rich and precious Jewels, they would also deprive her of the Jewell of most prize, and which shee valued most. But the desires of that nation extend themselves no farther, then to the gaine of money: and their avarice in this is never thorowly satisfied; and at that time was so great, as they would have taken from us the very habits of slaves, that wee brough from Barbarie, if they had found them to have beene worth any thing: and some there were of opinion among them, that we should bee all inwreathed in a Saile, and throwne into the Sea, because they had intention to traffique into some havens of Spaine, under the name of Britaines, and that if they carried us alive, they should bee punished, their robbery being detected: but the Cap∣taine, who was hee that had pilled my beloved Zoraida, said, that hee was so conten∣ted with his bootie, as he meaned not to touch any part of Spaine, but would pas••e the streights of Gibraltar by night, or as hee might, and so returne againe to Rochel, from whence hee was come: and thereupon they all agreed to give us their Cock-boate, and all that was neces••ary for our short voyage, as indeede they performed the day ensuing when wee were in the view of Spaine, with the sight whereof all our griefes and poverties were as quite forgotten, as if wee never had felt any; so great is the delight a man takes to recover his Liberty. It was about mid-day when they put us into the Cocke, giving unto us two Barrells of water and some Bisket; and the Captaine moved with some compassion, as the beautifull Zoraida embarked her selfe, bestowed on her about forty Crownes in gold; nor would hee permit his Souldiers to dispoyle her of these very Garments, which then and now shee doth weare.

Wee entred into the Cock-boate, and giving them thanks for the good they did, and shewing at our departure more tokens of thankfullnesse then of discontent, they sayled presently away from us towards the Straights, and wee without looking on any other North or Starre, then the land it selfe which appeared before us, did row towards it so lustily, that at Sun-set wee were so neere, as wee made full account to arive be∣fore the night were far spent. But by reason that the Moone did not shine, and the night was very darke, and that wee knew not where wee were, wee did not hold it the best course to approach the shoare too neere; yet others there were that thought it convenient and good, desiring that wee should make to it, although wee ranne the boate on the Rocks, and far from any dwelling; for by doing so, wee should free our selves from the feare which wee ought of reason to have, lest there should bee up and downe on that coast any Friggots of the Pyrates of Tituan, which are wont to leave Barbarie over-night, and bee on the coast of Spayne ere morning, and ordinarily make their bootie, and turne to their supper againe to Barbarie the night following; but of the contrary opinions, that which was followed was, that wee should draw neere the land by little and little, and that if the quietness of the Sea would permit it we should take land where we might best and most commodiously do it. This was done, and a little before midnight wee arived to the foote of a high and monstrous Mountaine, which was not altogether so neer to the Sea, but that it did grant a little patch of ground, whereon wee might commodiously disimbarke. Wherefore wee ranne our selves on the Sands, and came all a-Land and kissed the Earth, and with teeres of most joyfull

content and delight, gave thanks unto our Lord God, for the incomparable favours which hee had done us in our Voyage: Then tooke wee out our Victu∣alls from the Boate, and drew it selfe up on the Shore, and ascended a great part of the Mountaine: for although wee were in that place, yet durst wee not assure our selves, nor did throughly beleeve that it was a Christian Countrey whereon wee did tread.

The day breaking some what slower then I could have wished it; wee ascended the mountaine wholly, to see whether wee might discover any dwelling, or sheep∣folds from thence; but although wee extended our sight unto every quarter, yet could wee neither descry dwelling, person, path, nor high-way: yet did wee resolve notwithstanding to enter into the land, seeing that wee could not choose but dis∣cover ere long some body who might give us notice of the place where wee were: and that which afflicted mee most of all, was, to see Zoraida goe afoot thorow those rugged places; for although I did somtimes carry her on my shoulders, yet did the toyle I tooke more weary her, then the repose shee got could ease her; and therefore would never after the first time suffer mee to take that paines againe, and so shee went ever after a foote with great patience and tokens of joy, I holding her still by the hand, and having travelled little lesse then a quarter of a league, we heard the noyse of a little bell, an infallible argument that neere at hand there was some cattle; whereupon all of us looking very wistly, to see whether any body appeared, wee might perceive under a Corke-tree a young Sheepheard, who very quietly and carelesly was carving of a stick with a knife: Wee called to him, and hee leaped up lightly on foote, and (as we after∣wards learned) the first that hee got sight of, were the Runnagate and Zoraida; whom hee seeing apparelled in the Morisco habit, thought that all the people of Barbarie had beene at his heeles; and therefore running very swiftly into the Wood, hee cried all a∣long with marvelous lowdnesse, Moores, Moores are in the Land! Moores, Moores, arme, arme! These outcries strooke us anew into a great perplexitie, and scarce did wee know what wee should doe: but considering how the Sheepheards alarme would cause all the Countrey to rise up, and that the horsemen that kept the coast would pre∣sently come to see what it was; wee all agreed that the Runnagate should put off his Turkish attyre, and put on a captives cassocke, which one of the company gave un∣to him forthwith, although the giver remained after in his shirt: and thus commit∣ting the affaire unto almighty God, wee followed on by the same way, which wee saw the sheepheard had taken, alwaies expecting when the horsemen of the coast would fall upon us: and wee were not deceived in our expectation, for within two houres after, having issued out of those woods into a plane, wee discovered about some fifty horsemen which came running towards us as swiftly as their horses could drive, and having perceived them, wee stood still, and stayed untill they came to us, and saw in stead of the Moors they sought for, so many poore Christians, and remained somwhat ashamed thereat: and one of them demanded whether wee were the occasi∣on that a Sheapheard had given the alarme? Yes, quoth I, and as I was about to in∣forme what I was, and of all our Adventure, and from whence wee came, one of the Christians that came with us, did take notice of the horseman who had spoken unto us, and so interrupting my speech hee said, Sirs, let God bee praysed which hath brought us to so good a place as this is; for if I bee not deceived, the earth which wee tread, is of Veley Malaga; and if the yeeres of my captivity have not confounded my memorie, you likewise Sir, that demand what wee bee, are Peter of Bustamonte, mine Uncle. As soone as ever the Christian captive had spoken those words, the horseman leaping off his horse, ran and embraced him saying, O Nephew! as deere to mee as my soule and life now I doe know thee very well, and many a day since have I wept for thee, thinking thou wast dead, and so hath my sister thy Mother, and all the rest of thy friends which doe live yet, and God hath beene pleased to preserve their Lives, that they may enjoy the pleasure to behold thee once againe. Wee knew very well that thou wert in Argieres, and by the signes and tokens of thy clothes, and that of all the rest here of thy Companions; I surmise that your escape hath beene miraculous. Indeede it

was so replyed the Captive, and wee shall have time I hope to recount unto you the manner.

As soone as the horsemen had understood that wee were Christian Captives, they alighted off their horses, and every one of them invited us to mount upon his owne, to carry us to the City of Veley Malaga, which was yet a league and a halfe from that place and some of ••hem went to the place where wee had left the Boate, to bring it to the Ci∣tie; whom we informed first of the place where it lay; others did mount us up on horseback behind themselves, and Zoraida rode behinde the captives uncle: all the peo∣ple issued to receive us, being premonished of our arivall by some one that had ridden before. They did not wonder to see captives freed, nor Moors captived there, being an ordinary thing in those parts, but that whereat they wondred was the surpassing beauty of Zoraida, which at that season and instant was in her prime, as well through the warmth she had gotten by her travell, as also through the joy shee conceived to see her selfe in Christian lands, secure from all feare of being surprised or lost, and these things called out to her face such colours, as if it be not that affection might then have decei∣ved me, I durst aver, that a more beautifull then she was, the world could not afford, at least amo••g those which I had ever beheld.

Wee went directly to the Church to give thanks unto Almighty God for the be∣nefit received: And as soon as Zoraida entred into it, shee said there were faces in it that resembled very much that of Lela Marien. Wee told her that they were her images: And the Runnagate as well as the brevitie of the time permitted, instructed her what they signified, to the end shee should doe them reverence, as if every one of them were truely that same Lela Marien which had spoken unto her. Shee who had a very good understanding, and an easie and cleer conceit, comprehended presently all that was told unto her concerning Images. From thence they carried us and divided us among different houses of the Citie: But the Christian that came with us carried the Runnagate, Zoraida, and me to the house of his Parents, which were indifferently accommodated and stored with the goods of Fortune, and did entertain me with as great love and kindenesse as if I were their own sonne. We remained six dayes in Veley, in which time the Runnagate having made an information of all that which might concern him, hee went to the City of Granado to bee reconciled by the holy Inquisitions means, to the bosome of our holy Mother the Church: The rest of the freed Cap∣tives took every one the way that hee pleased; and Zoraida and I remained behinde with those Ducats only which the Frenchmans courtesie was pleased to bestow on Zoraida: and with part of that summe I bought her this beast whereon shee rides; I my selfe serving her hitherto as her Father and her Squire, and not as her Spouse, wee travail with intention to see if my Father bee yet living, or any of my Brothers have had more prosperous hap then my self, although seeing Heaven hath made me Zoraida's Consort, me thinks no other good Fortune could arrive, were it never so great, that I would hold in so high estimation. The patience wherewithall shee bears the incom∣modities usually annext unto Povertie, and the desires shee shews to become a Chri∣stian, is such and so great, as it strikes me into an admiration, and doth move me to serve her all the dayes of my life; although that the delight which I take to see my self hers, and shee mine, is oft times interrupted, and almost dissolved by the fear which I have, that I shall not finde in mine own Countrey some little Corner wherein I may entertain her; and that Time and Death have wrought such alteration in the Goods and Lives of my Father and Brothers, as I shall scarce finde any one at home that knows me. I have no more, good Sirs, to tell you of my lives Historie, then which, whether it bee pleasing and rare, or no, your cleer conceits are to judge: As for my self I dare say, that if it had been possible, I would have told it with more brevity; fearing it might bee tedious unto you, I purposely omitted many delightfull circumstances thereof.

CHAP. XV.

Which speaks of that which after befell in the Inne; and of sundry other things worthy to bee known.

THe Captive having said this, held his peace; and Don Fernando replyed to him thus; Truely Captain, the manner wherewith∣all you have recounted this marvellous successe, hath been such, as it may bee parragon'd to the noveltie and strangenesse of the event it self: And so great is the delight wee have taken in the hearing thereof, as I doe beleeve, that although wee had spent the time from hence till to morrow, in listening to it, yet should wee bee glad to hear it told over once again. And saying so, Cardenio and all the rest did offer themselves and their means to his service, as much as lay in them with so cordiall and friendly words as the Captive remained throughly satisfied with their good wits: but specially Don Fernando offered, that if hee would return with him, hee would cause the Marquesse his Brother to bee Zoraida her Godfather in Baptisme; and that hee for his part, would so accommodate him with all things necessary, as hee might enter into the Town with the decencie and authoritie due to his person. The Captive did gatifie his large offers very courteously, but would not accept any of them at that time. By this the night drew on, and about the fall thereof there arived at the Inne a Coach with some men a Horse-back and asked for lodging; to whom the Hostesse answered, that in all the Inne there was not a span free; the number of her Guests was already so many. Well, although that be so, quoth one of the Horse-men that had entred, yet must there bee a place found for Master Justice who comes in this Coach. At this name the Ho∣stesse was afraid, and said, Sir, the misfortune, is, that I have no beds: but if Master Justice brings one with him, as it is probable hee doth, let him enter in boldly, and I and my Husband will leave our own Chamber to accommodate his Worship. So bee it, quoth the Squire; and by this time alighted out of the Coach a man whose attire did presently denote his Dignity and Office; for his long Gown and his great and large Sleeves did shew that hee was a Judge, as the Servingmen affirmed. Hee led a young Mayden by the hand of about some sixteen yeers old, apparelled in riding attire; but shee was therewithall of so disposed, beautifull, and cheerfull a countenance, as her presence did strike them all into admiration; so as if they had not seen Dorotea, Lu∣sci••da and Zoraida which were then in the Inne, they would hardly have believed that this Damzels beauty might any where have been matched.

Don-Quixote was present at the Judges and the Gentlewomans entry: and so, as soon as hee had seen him, hee said, Sir, you may boldly enter and take your ease in this Castle, which although it bee but little and ill accommodated, yet there is no nar∣rownesse nor discommodity in the world but makes place for Armes and Learning, and specially if the Armes and Letters bring Beauty for their guide and leader as your Learning doth, conducted by this lovely Damzell, to whom ought not only Castles to open and manifest themselves, but also Rocks to part and divide their Cliffs and Moun∣tains to bow their ambitious crests to give and make her a lodging: Enter therefore, I say, Worshipfull Sir, into this Paradise, wherein you shall finde Starrs and Sunns to accompanie this Skie which you bring along with you: Here shall you finde Armes in their height, and beauty in her prime. The Judge marvailed greatly at Don Quixotes speech, whom hee began to behold very earnestly, and wondred no lesse at his shape then at his words, and knowing not what answer hee might return him, hee was diverted on the other side, by the suddain approach of the three Ladies Lu∣scinda, Dorotea and Zoraida which stood before him: for having heard of the arrivall

of new Ghests, and also being informed, by the Oastesse, of the young Ladies beautie, they were come forth to see and entertaine her. But Don Fernando, Carde∣nio and the Curate, did give him more compleate and courtly Entertainement then the rustie Knight. In effect, the Judge was marveilously amazed at that which hee saw and heard in that Inne: And the fayre Guests thereof bade the beautifull May∣den welcome. The Judge perceived very well, that the Guests of the Inne were all men of account: but Don Quixotes feature, visage and behaviour, did set him out of all byas, being not able to conjecture what hee might bee; and after some courtlike in∣tercourses pas••ed, and the commodities of the Inne examined, they all agreed againe, as they had done before, that all the women should enter into Don-Quixotes Roome, and the men remaine without in their Guard. And so the Judge was content that the Damzell, who was his Daughter, should also goe with those Ladies, which shee did with a very good will: and with a part of the In-keepers narrow bed, and halfe of that which the Judge had brought with him, they made shift to passe over that night the best they could.

The Captive, who from the instant that hee had first seene the Judge, did greatly suspect that hee was his Brother, and demanded of one of his servants how hee was cal∣led, and where hee was borne? The other answered how hee was called the Licentia•• Iohn Perez of Viedma, and as hee had heard, hee was borne in a Village of the Moun∣taines of Leon. With this relation and the rest that hee had noted, hee finally confir∣med his opinion that it was the brother, who following his Father advice, had dedica∣ted himselfe to his Studies; and full of joy and contentment, calling aside Don Fernan∣do, Cardenio and the Curate, hee certified them of all that passed, and that the Judge was his Brother. The Servingman told him likewise how hee went towards the Indies, where hee had his place and office in the Courts of Mexico; and also that the young Gentlewoman was his Daughter, of whose byrth her Mother had died, and hee ever af∣ter remained a widower, and very rich, by her Dowrie and Portion that shee had left to her Daughter: Hee demanded of them advice how hee might discover himselfe to his Brother, or first know, whether after hee had detected himselfe, hee would receive him with a good countenance and affection, and not bee ashamed to acknowledge him for his Brother, seeing him in so poore an estate. Leave the tryall of that experience to mee, quoth the Curate, and the rather, because there is no occasion why you, Sir Cap∣taine, should not bee kindly entertained by him: for the Prudence, Worths and good countenance of your Brother, give manifest tokens that hee is nothing arro∣gant. For all that, said the Captaine, I would not make my selfe knowne on the suddaine, but would use some pretty ambages to bring him acquainted with mee. I say unto you, quoth the Curate, that I will trace the matter in such sort, as wee all will rest satisfied.

Supper was by this made ready, and all of them sate downe to the table, the captive excepted and Ladies, which supped together within the roome; and about the midst of supper the Curate said, Master Justice, I have had in times past a comrade of your very surname in Constantinople, where I was sometime captive, who was one of the most valiant Souldiers and Captaines that might bee found among all the Spanish foote; but hee was as unfortunate as hee was valorous and resolute. And how was that Captaine called, good Sir quoth the Judge? His name was replyed Master Curate, Ruy Perez Viedma, and hee was borne in a Village of the Mountaines of Leon; and hee recoun∣ted unto mee an occurrence hapned betweene his Father, him, and his other Brethren; which if I had not beene told by a man of such credit and reputation as hee was, I would have esteemed for one of these fables which old Wives are wont to rehearse by the fire side in Winter; for hee said to mee, that his Father had divided his goods among his three sonnes, and gave them withall certaine Precepts, better then those of Cato; and I know well, that the choice which hee made to follow the Warre had such happy success, as within a few yeeres, through his forwardnesse and valour, without the helpe of any other arme, hee was advanced to a company of Foote, and made a Captaine, and was in the way and course of becomming one day a Colonell; but Fortune was contrary to

him, for even there where he was most to expect her favour, hee lost it, with the losse of his Liberty in that most happy journey wherein so many recovered it, to wit, in the Battell of Lepanto. I lost mine in Goleta, and after by different successe wee became companions in Constantinople; from whence wee went to Argiers, where did befall him one of the most notable Adventures that ever hapned in the World; and there the Curate with succinct brevitie recounted all that had hapned between the Captain and Zoraida: to all which the Judge was so attentive, as in all his life hee never listened to any cause so attentively as then: And the Curate only arived to the point wherein the French-men spoyled the Christians that came in the Barke, and the necessitie where∣in his Companion and the beautifull Zoraida remained; of whom hee had not learned any thing after, nor knew not what became of them, or whether they came into Spain, or were carried away by the French-men into France.

The Captain stood listening somewhat aloof off to all the Curates words, and noted the while the motions and gestures of his brother; who seeing that the Curate had now made an end of his Speech, breathing forth a great sigh, and his eyes being filled with teares, hee said, O Sir, if you had known the news which you have told me, and how neerly they touch me in some points, whereby I am constrained to manifest these teares, which violently break forth in despight of my discretion and calling, you would hold me excused for this excesse. That Captaine of whom you spoke is my eldest Bro∣ther, who, as one stronger and of more noble thoughts then I or my younger Brother, made election of the honourable military calling, one of the three estates which our Father proposed to us, even as your Comrade informed, when as you thought hee related a Fable: I followed my Book, by which God and my dilligence raised me to the State you see: My younger Brother is in Peru, and with that which hee hath sent to my Father and my self, hath bountifully recompenced the portion hee car∣ried, and given to him sufficient to satisfie his liberall disposition, and to me where∣withall to continue my Studies with the decencie and authority needfull to advance me to the rank which now I possesse. My Father lives yet, but dying through desire to learne somewhat of his eldest Sonne, and doth dayly importune God with inces••ant prayers, that death may not shut his eyes untill hee may once again see him alive. I only marvell not a little, considering his discreetion, that among all his labours, affli∣ctions or prosperous successes hee hath been so carelesse in giving his Father notice of his Proceedings: for if either hee, or any one of us had known of his Captivity, hee should not have needed to expect the miracle of the Cane for his Ransome. But that which troubles me most of all, is, to think whether these French-men have restored him again to libertie or else slain him, that they might conceale their robberie the better; all which will bee an occasion to me to prosecute my Voyage, not with the joy where∣withall I began it, but rather with Melancholy and Sorrow. O dear Brother, I would I might know now where thou art, that I my self might goe and search thee out, and free thee from thy pains, although it were with the hazard of mine own. O who is hee that could carrie news to our old Father, that thou wert but alive, although thou were hidden in the most abstruse Dungeons of Barbarie? for his Riches, my Brothers, and mine would fetch thee from thence. O beautifull and bountifull Zoraida, who might bee able to recompence thee for the good thou hast done to my Brother? How happie were hee that might bee present at thy Spirituall Birth and Baptisme, and at thy nuptials which would bee so gratefull to us all? These and many other such words did the Judge deliver, so full of compassion for the news that hee had received of his Bro∣ther, as all that heard him kept him companie in shewing signes of compassion for his sorrow.

The Curate therefore perceiving the happie successe whereto his designe and the Captains desire had sorted, would hold the company sad no longer; and therefore arising from the Table, and entring into the Room wherein Zoraida was, hee took her by the hand, and after her followed Luscinda, Dorotea, and the Judge his Daughter: the Captain stood still to see what the Curate would doe, who taking him fast by the other hand, martched over with them both towards the Judge and the other Gentle∣men

and said, Suppresse your teares, Master Justice, and glut your desire with all that good which it may desire, seeing you have here before you your good brother, and your loving sister in law: this man whom you view here, is the Captaine Viedma, and this the beautifull Moore, which hath done so much for him.

The Frenchmen which I told you of, have reduced them to the povertie you see, to the end that you may shew the liberalitie of your noble brest. Then did the Captaine draw neere, to embrace his brother: but hee held him off a while with his armes to note whether it was hee or no; but when hee once knew him, hee embraced him so lovingly, and with such abundance of teares, as did attract the like from all the behol∣ders. The words that the brothers spoke one to another, or the feeling affection which they shewed, can hardly bee conceived, and therefore much lesse written by any one whatsoever. There they did briefly recount the one to the other their successes: there did they shew the true love and affection of brothers in his prime: there did the Judge embrace Zoraida: there hee made her an of••er of all that was his: there did hee also cause his Daughter to embrace her: there the beautifull Christian, and the most beau∣tifull Moore renewed the teares of them all: There Don-Quixote was attentive, with∣out speaking a word, pondering of these rare occurrences, and attributing them to the Chimeraes which hee imagined to bee incident to Chivalrie: and there they agreed that the Captaine and Zoraida should returne with their brother to Sivill, and thence ad∣vise their Father of his finding and libertie, that he, as well as hee might, should come to Sivill to the Baptisme and Marriage of Zoraida, because the Judge could not possibly returne, or discontinue his journey, in respect that the Indian Fleete was to depart with∣in a Moneth from Sivill towards new Spaine.

Every one in conclusion was joyfull and glad at the captives good successe: and two parts of the night being wel nigh spent, they all agreed to repose themselves a while. Don-Quixote offered himselfe to watch and gaurd the Castle whilst they slept, lest they should bee assaulted by some Giant or other miscreant, desirous to rob the great Treasure of beautie that was therein immured and kep••. Those that knew him rendred unto him infinite thankes: and withall informed the Judge of his extravagant humor, whereat hee was not a little recreated: onely Sancho Panca did fret, because they went so slowly to sleepe, and hee alone was best accommoda∣ted of them all, by lying downe on his beasts furniture which cost him deerely, as shall bee after recounted. The Ladies being withdrawne into their Chamber, and every one laying himselfe downe where best hee might, Don-Quixote sallied out of the Inne, to bee Centinell of the Castle as hee had promised. And a little before day it happened, that so sweet and tuneable a voyce touched the Ladies eares, as it obliged them all to listen unto it very attentively, but chiefly Dorotea, who first a∣waked, and by whose side the young Gentlewoman Donna Clara of Viedma (for so the Judges Daughter was called) slept. None of them could imagine who it was that sung so well without the help of any instrument: sometimes it seemed that hee sung in the yard, others that it was in the Stable: and being thus in suspence, Cardenio came to the Chamber-dore, and said, Whosoever is not asleepe, let them give eare, and they shall heare the voice of a Lackey that so chants, as it likewise in∣chants. Sir, quoth Dorotea, wee heare him very well. With this Cardenio departed, and Dorotea using all the attention possible, heard that his song was this following.

CHAP. XVI.

Wherein is recounted the Historie of the Lackie, with other strange Adventures befaln in the Inne.

I Am a Marriner to love, Which in his depths profound Still sails, and yet no hope can prove Of comming aye to th' ground, I following goe a glistring Starre, Which I aloof descrie, Much more resplendent then those are That Palinure did spie. I know not where my course to ••end, And so confusedly, To see it only I pretend Carefull and carelesly. Her too impertinent regard, And too much Modestie, The Clouds are which mine eyes have ••ard From their deserved fee. O cleer and soul-reviving Star, Whose sight doth trie my trust, If thou thy light from me debar, Instantly dye I must.

The Singer arriving to this point of his song, Dorotea imagined that it would not bee amisse to let Donna Clara heare so excellent a voyce, and therefore shee jogged her a little on the one and other side, untill shee had awaked her, and then said, Pardon me, child, for thus interrupting your sweet repose, seeing I doe it to the end you may joy, by hearing one of the best voyces that perhaps you ever heard in your life. Clara awaked at the first drowsily, and did not well understand what Dorotea said, and there∣fore demanding of her what shee said, shee told it her again; whereupon Donna Clara was also attentive: but scarce had shee heard two verses repeated by the early Musician when a marvellous trembling invaded her, even as if shee had then suffered the grievous fit of a Quartane Ague: Wherefore embracing Dorotea very straightly, shee said, Alas, deer Lady, why did you awake me, seeing the greatest happ that Fortune could in this instant have given me, was, to have mine eyes and eares so shut, as I might neither see nor hear that unfortunate Musician? What is that you say childe, quoth Dorotea? did you not heare one say that the Musician is but a Horse-Boy? Hee is no Horse-Boy, quoth Clara, but a Lord of many Towns, and hee that hath such firm possession of my Soul, as if hee himself will not reject it, hee shall never bee deprived of the dominion thereof. Dorotea greatly wondred at the passionate words of the young Gyrle, whereby it seemed to her that shee farre surpassed the discretion which so tender yeers did promise: And therefore shee replyed to her, saying, You speak so obscurely, Lady Clara, as I cannot understand you; expound your selfe more cleerly, and tell me what is that you say of Souls and Towns, and of this Musician whose voyce hath altred you so much: but doe not say any thing to me now; for I would not lose by listening to your disgusts, the pleasure I take to hear him sing; for me thinks hee resumes his musick with new Verses, and in another tune: In a good hour, quoth Don∣na Clara; and then because she her self would not hear him, she stopt her eares with her

fingers; whereat Dorotea did also marvell: but being attentive to the Musick, shee heard the Lacquie prosecute his Song in this manner.

O Sweet and constant hope, That break'st Impossibilities and Bryers, And firmly run'st the scope Which thou thy self doest forge to thy desires: Be not dismaid to see At eve'ry step thy self nigh death to bee. Sluggards doe not deserve The glorie of Triumphs or Victorie, Good hap doth never serve Those which resist not Fortune manfully, But weakly fall to ground: And in soft sloth their Sences all confound. That Love his glories hold At a high rate, it reason is and just: No precious Stones nor gold May bee at all compared with Loves gust. And 'tis a thing most clear; Nothing is worth esteem that cost not dear. An Amorous persistance Obtaineth oft-times things impossible: And so though I resistance Finde of my Souls desires, in her stern will; I hope time shall bee given, When I from Earth may reach her glorious Heav'n.

Here the voyce ended, and Donna Clara's sighs began; all which inflamed Dorotea's desire to know the cause of so sweet a Song and so sad a Plaint: And therefore shee eftsoons required her to tell her now what shee was about to have said before. Then Clara timorous lest Luscinda should over-hear her, imbracing Dorotea very neerly, laid her mouth so closely to Dorotea's eare, as shee might speak securely without being understood by any other, and said; Hee that sings, is, dear Ladie, a Gentlemans Sonne of the Kingdome of Aragon whose Father is Lord of two Towns, and dwelled right before my Fathers house at the Court, and although the Windows of our house were in Winter covered with Sear-cloth, and in Summer with Lattice, I know not how it happened, but this Gentleman, who went to the School, espied me; and whether it was at the Church, or else-where, I am not certain. Finally, hee fell in Love with me, and did acquite me with his affection from his own Windows that were opposite to mine, with so many tokens and such abundance of teares, as I most forceably believed, and also affected him, without knowing how much hee loved me. Among the signes that hee would make me, one was, to joyn the one hand to the other, giving me thereby to understand that hee would marry me: and although I would be very glad that it might bee so; yet as one alone, and without a Mother, I knew not to whom I might communicate the affair, and did therefore let it rest without affording him any other favour, unlesse it were when my Father and his were gone abroad, by lifting up the Lattice or Sear-cloth only a little and permitting him to behold me; for which fa∣vour hee would shew such signes of joy, as a man would deem him to bee reft of his wits.

The time of my fathers departure ariving, and hee hearing of it, but not from mee (for I could never tell it to him) hee fell sick, as far as I could understand, for griefe; and therefore I could never see him all the day of our departure, to bid him farewell at least with mine eyes; but after wee had travelled two dayes, just as wee entred into an Inne in a Village, a dayes journey from hence, I saw him at the lodging dore, appare∣led

so properly like a Lackey, as if I had not borne about mee his Portraiture in my Soule, it had beene impossible to know him, I knew him, and wondred, and was glad withall; and hee beheld mee unwitting my father, from whose presence hee still hides himselfe when hee crosses the waies before mee as I travell, or after wee arive at any Inne. And because that I know what hee is, and doe consider the paines hee takes by coming thus a foote for my sake, and that with so great toyle, I die for sorrow, and where hee puts his feete, I also put mine eyes, I know not with what intention hee comes, nor how hee could possibly thus escape from his Father, who loves him beyond measure, both because hee hath none other Heir, and because the young Gentleman al∣so deserves it, as you will perceive when you see him; and I dare affirme besides, that all that which hee saies, hee composes ex tempore, and without any study; for I have heard that hee is a fine Student, and a great Poet; and every time that I see him, or doe heare him sing, I start and tremble like an Aspen-leafe, for feare that my father should know him, and thereby come to have notice of our mutuall affections. I have never spoken one word to him in my life, and yet I doe neverthelesse love him so much, as without him I shall not bee able to live. And this is all deer Ladie, that I am able to say unto you of the Musician whose voice hath pleased you so well, as by it alone you might conjecture that he is not a horse-boy as you said, but rather a Lord of Soules, and townes as I affirmed.

Speake no more Lady Clara (quoth Dorotea, at that season, kissing her a thousand times) speake no more I say? but have patience untill it bee day light; for I hope in God so to direct your affaires, as that they shall have the fortunate successe that so ho∣nest beginning deserves. Alas Madam, quoth Donna Clara, what end may be expe∣cted, seeing his father is so noble and rich as hee would scarce deeme mee worthy to bee his sonnes servant, how much lesse his spouse? and for mee to marry my selfe unknown to my Father, I would not doe it for all the world; I desire no other thing, but that the young Gentleman would returne home againe and leave mee alone; perhaps by not seeing him, and the great distance of the way which wee are to travell, my paine which now so much presseth mee, will bee somwhat allayed, although I dare say, that this remedy which now I have imagined, would availe mee but little; for I know not whence with the vengeance, or by what way this affection, which I beare him, got into mee, seeing both I and hee are so young as wee bee, for I beleeve wee are much of an age, and I am not yet full sixteene, nor shall bee, as my father sayes, untill Michael∣mas next. Dorotea could not contain her laughter, hearing how childishly Donna Cla∣ra spoke: to whom shee said, Lady let us repose againe, and sleepe that little part of the night which remaines, and when God sends day light, wee will prosper, or my hands shall faile mee. With this they held their peace, and all the Inn was drowned in profound silence; only the Inne-keepers Daughter and Maritorners were not a∣sleepe, but knowing very well Don-Quixotes peccant humor, and that hee was ar∣med and on Horse-back without the Inne, keeping Guard, both of them consorted to∣gether, and agreed to bee some way merry with him, or at least to passe over some time, in hearing him speake ravingly.

It is therefore to bee understood, that there was not in all the Inne any window which looked out into the field, but one hole in a Barne, out of which they were wont to cast their straw; to this hole came the two demy-Demzells, and saw Don-Quixote mounted and leaning on his Javelin, and breathing forth ever and anon, so dolefull and deepe sighes, as it seemed his Soule was plucked away by every one of them; and they noted besides, how hee said with a soft and amorous voice, O my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, the Sunne of all beauty, the end and quintessence of discretion, the treasurie of sweete countenance and carriage, the store-house of honestie; and finally, the Idea of all that which is profitable, modest, or delightfull in the World! and what might thy Ladyship bee doing at this present? Hast thou perhaps thy minde now upon thy cap∣tive Knight, that most wittingly exposeth himselfe to so many dangers for thy sake? Give unto mee tidings of her, O thou Luminary of the three faces: peradventure how dost now with envie enough behold her, eyther walking through some Gallerie of

her sumptuous Palaces, or leaning on some Bay-window and thinking how (saving her honour and greatnesse) shee shall mittigate and asswage the torture which this mine oppressed heart indures for her Love; what glory shee shall give for my pains; what quiet to my cares; what life to my death; and what guerdon to my services. And thou Sun which art, as I believe, by this time sadling of thy Horses to get away early and goe out to see my Mistrisse, I request thee, as soon as thou shalt see her, to salute her in my behalf; but beware that when thou lookest on her & doest greet her, that thou doe not kisse her on the face; for if thou doest, I become more jealous of thee, then ever thou wast of the swift ingrate which made thee runn and sweat so much thorow the Plains of Thessalia or the brinks of Peneo; for I have forgotten through which of them thou rannest so jealous and inamoured.

To this point arrived Don-Quixote, when the Inne-keepers Daughter began to call him softly unto her and say, Sir Knight, approach a little hitherward, if you please: At which voyce Don-Quixote turned his head, and saw by the light of the Moon which shined then very cleerly, that hee was called too from the hole, which hee accounted to bee a fair window full of iron bars, and those costly gilded with gold, well befitting so rich a Castle, as hee imagined that Inne to bee; and presently in a moment hee for∣ged to his own fancie, that once again, as hee had done before, the beautifull Damzell, daughter to the Ladie of that Castle, overcome by his Love, did returne to sollicite him: and with this thought, because hee would not shew himself discourteous and ungratefull, hee turned Rozinante about and came over to the hole; and then ha∣ving beheld the two Wenches hee said, I take pittie on you, beautifull Ladie, that you have placed your amorous thoughts in a place whence it is not possible to have any correspondence answerable to the desert of your high worth and beauty, whereof you are in no sort to condemn this miserable Knight Errant, whom Love hath wholly dis∣abled to surrender his will to be any other then to her, whom at the first sight hee made absolute Mistrisse of his soul: Pardon me therefore, good Ladie, and retire your self to your Chamber, and make me not, by any further insinuation of your desires, more unthankfull and discourteous then I would bee: and if through the love that you bear me, you finde in me any other thing wherewithall I may serve and pleasure you, so that it bee not love it self, demand it boldly; for I doe sweare unto you by mine absence yet, sweetest enemie, to bestow it upon you incontinently, yea though it bee a lock of Medusas haires, which are all of Snakes, or the very Sunne-beams inclosed in a Viall of glasse.

My Lady needs none of those things, Sir Knight, answered Maritornes. What doth shee then want, discreet Matron, quoth Don-Quixote? Only one of your faire hands, said Maritornes, that therewithall shee may disburden her selfe of some part of those violent desires, which compelled her to come to this window, with so great danger of her honour: for if her Lord and Father knew of her comming, the least slice he would take off her should bee at the least an eare. I would faine once see that, quoth Don-Quixote: but I am sure he will beware how he doe it, if he have no list to make the most disastrous end that ever father made in this world, for having laied vio∣lent hands on the delicate limbs of his amorous daughter. Maritornes verily perswaded her self, that Don-Quixote would give up his hand as he was requested; & having already contrived in her minde what she would do, descended with all haste from the hole, and going into the Stable, fetched out Sancho Panca his Asses halter, and returned again with very great speed, just as Don-Quixote (standing up on Rozinantes saddle, that he might the better reach the barred windowes, whereat hee imagined the wounded Damzell remained) did, stretching up his hand, say unto her, Hold, Lady, the hand, or as I may better say, the executioner of earthly miscreants: hold, I say, that hand, which no other woman ever touched before, not even shee her self that hath intyre possession of my whole body, nor doe I give it to you, to the end you should kisse it; but that you may behold the contexture of the sinnews, the knitting of the muscles, and the spaciositie and hredth of the veins, whereby you may collect how great ought the force of that Arme to bee whereunto such a hand is knit. Wee shall see that pre∣sently,

quoth Maritornes: and then making a running knot on the halter, shee cast it on the wrist of his hand, and then descending from the hole, shee tyed the other end of the halter very fast to the lock of the Barn door. Don-Quixote feeling the roughnesse of the halter about his wrists, said, It rather seems that you grate my hand, then that you che∣rish it; but yet I pray you not to handle it so roughly, seeing it is in no fault of the evill which my will doth unto you; nor is it comely that you should revenge or dis∣burden the whole bulk of your indignation on so small a part: remember that those which love well doe not take so cruell revenge. But no body gave eare to these words of Don-Quixote; for as soon as Maritornes had tyed him, shee and the other, almost burst for laughter, ran away, and left him tyed in such manner, as it was impossible for him to loose himself.

Hee stood, as wee have recounted, on Rozinante his saddle, having all his arme thrust in at the hole, and fastened by the wrist to the lock, and was in very great doubt and fear, that if Rozinante budged never so little on any side hee should fall and hang by the arme; and therefore hee durst not once use the least motion of the world, although hee might well have expected from Rozinantes patience and milde spirit, that if hee were suffered, hee would stand still a whole age without stirring himself. In fine Don-Quixote seeing himself tyed, and that the Ladies were departed, began straight to imagine that all that had been done by way of inchantment, as the last time, when in the very same Castle the inchanted Moor (the Carrier) had so fairly belaboured him: and then to himself did he execrate his own want of discretion and discourse, seeing that having escaped out of that Castle so evill dight the first time, he would after adventure to enter into it the second: for it was generally observed by Knights Errant, that when they had once tried an Adventure, and could not finish it, it was a token that it was not reserved for them, but for some other; and therefore would never prove it again. Yet for all this hee drew forward his Arme to see if hee might deliver himself; but hee was so well bound, as all his indeavours proved vain: It is true that hee drew it very warily, lest Rozinante should stir; and although hee would fain have set and setled himself in the saddle, yet could hee doe no other but stand, or leave the Arme behinde: There was many a wish for Amadis his Sword, against which no inchantment what∣soever could prevail: there succeeded the malediction of his fates: there the exagge∣rating of the want that the world should have of his presence, all the while hee abode inchanted (as hee infallibly believed hee was) in that place: There hee anew remembred his beloved Lady Dulcinea of Toboso: There did hee call oft enough on his good Squire Sancho Panca, who intombed in the bowels of sleep and stretched along on the Pannell of his Asse, did dream at that instant, but little of the mother that bore him: There hee invoked the Wise men Lirgandeo and Aquife to help him: And finally, the morning did also there overtake him so full of despair and confusion, as hee roared like a Bull; for hee had no hope that by day-light any cure could bee found for his care, which hee deemed would bee everlasting, because hee fully accounted him∣self inchanted; and was the more induced to think so, because hee saw that Rozinante did not move little nor much; and therefore hee supposed that both hee and his horse should abide in that state without eating, drinking, or sleeping, untill that either the malignant influence of the Stars were passed, or some greater Inchanter had dis-inchant∣ed him.

But hee deceived himselfe much in his beleefe, for scarce did the day begin to peepe, when there arived foure Horsemen to the Inn doore, very well appointed, and having snap-hances hanging at the pommell of their saddles, they called at the Inn door (which yet stood shut) and knocked very hard which being perceived by Don-Quixote, from the place where hee stood Centinell, hee said with a very loud and arrogant voice, Knights, or Squires, or whatsoever else ye bee, you are not to knock any more at the gates of that Castle, seeing it is evident, that at such houres as this, eyther they which are within doe repose them, or else are not wont to open Fortresses, untill Phoebus hath spread his Beames over the Earth: therefore stand back, and expect till it be cleere day, and then wee will see whether it bee just or no, that they open their gates unto

you. What a Divell, what Castle or Fortresse is this, quoth one of them, that it should binde us to use all those circumstances? If thou beest the In-keeper, command that the doore bee opened, for wee are travellers, that will tarry no longer then to baite our Horses and away, for wee ride in poste haste. Doth it seeme to you Gentlemen, quoth Don-Quixote, that I looke like an In-keeper? I know not what thou lookest like, an∣swered the other, but well I know that thou speakest madly, in calling this Inne a Ca∣stle. It is a Castle, replyed Don-Quixote, yea, vnd that one of the best in this Province and it hath People within it which have had a Scepter in hand, and a crowne on their head. It were better said quite contrary, replyed the Traveller, the Scepter on the head, and the Crowne in the hand, But perhaps (and so it may well bee) there is some company of Players within, who doe very usually hold the Scepters, and weare those crownes whereof thou talkest; for in such a paultry Inne as this is, and where I heare so little••noyse, I cannot beleeve any one to bee lodged, worthy to weare a crowne, or beare a Stepter. Thou knowest but little of the World, replyed Don-Quixote, seeing thou dost so much ignore the chances that are wont to befall in Chivalry. The fellowes of him that entertained this prolixe Dialogue with Don-Quixote, waxed weary to heare them speake idlely so long together, and therefore turned againe to knock with great fury at the dore, and that in such sort, as they not only waked the Inne-keeper, but also all the Guests, and so he arose to demand their pleasure.

In the meane while it hapned, that one of the Horses whereon they rode, drew neere to smell Rozinante, that Melancholy, and sadly, with his eares cast downe, did sustain without moving his out-stretched Lord; and hee beeing indeede of flesh and blood, al∣though hee resembled a block of wood, could not choose but feele it, and turne to smel him againe, who had thus come to cherish and entertaine him; and scarce had hee stir∣red but a thought from thence, when Don-Quixotes feete, that were joyned, slipt asun∣der, and tumbling from the Saddle, had doubtlesly faln to the ground, had hee not remained hanging by the Arme; a thing that caused him to indure so much pain, as hee verily believed that either his wrist was a cutting, or his Arme a tearing off from his body; and hee hung so neer to the ground as hee touched it with the tops of his toes, all which turned to his prejudice; for having felt the little which hee wanted to the setting of his feet wholly on the earth, hee laboured and drew all that he might to reach it; much like unto those that get the Strappado, with the condition to touch or not to touch, who are themselves a cause to increase their own tor••ure, by the earnest∣nesse wherewith they stretch themselves, deceived by the hope they have to touch the ground if they can stretch themselves but a little further.

CHAP. XVII.

Wherein are prosecuted the wonderfull Adventures of the Inne.

SO many were the out-cries which Don-Quixote made, as the Inn-keeper opened the door very hastily and affrighted, to see who it was that so roared; and those that stood without did also the same: Maritornes whom the cries had also awaked, imagining straight what it might bee, went into the Barne, and unperceived of any, loosed the halter that susteined Don-Quixote, and forth∣with hee fell to the ground in the presence of the Inn-keeper and the Travellers, who comming towards him, demanded the occassion why hee did so unmeasurably roar? Hee, without making any answer, took off the halter from his wrist, and getting up, hee leaped upon Rozinante, imbraced his Target, set his Launce into the Rest, and wheeling about a good part of the Field, re∣turned

with a half gallop, saying, Whosoever shall dare to affirm that I have not been with just title inchanted, if my Lady the Princesse Micomicona will give mee leave to doe it, I say that hee lies, and I doe presently challenge him to Combat. The new Travellers were amazed at Don-Quixotes words; but the Host removed that won∣der by informing them what hee was, and that they should make no account of his words, for the man was bereft of his wits. Then they demanded of the Inn-keeper, if there had arived to his Inne a young Stripling of some fifteen yeers old or there∣abouts apparelled like a Horse-Boy, and having such and such marks and tokens; and then gave the very signes of Donna Clara's Lover. The Host made answer, That there were so many People in his Inn, as hee had taken no notice of him for whom they de∣manded: But one of them having seen the Coach wherein the Judge came, said, Questionlesly hee must bee here; for this is the Coach that they say he hath followed: let therefore one of us remain at the door, and the rest enter to seek him out: Yea, and it will not bee from the purpose, if one of us ride about without the Inn, lest hee should make an escape from us by the walls of the ya••d. We will doe so, said another of them; And thus two of them entred into the house, one staid at the door, and the other did compasse the Inne about. The Inn-keeper beheld all, but could never judge a right the reason why they used all this diligence, although hee easily believed that they sought for the Youth whose markes they had told unto him.

By this the day was grown clear, and as well by reason thereof, as through the out∣cries of Don-Quixote, all the Strangers were awake and did get up, especially both the Ladies, Clara and Dorotea: for the one through fear to have her Lover so neer, & the other with desire to see him, could sleep but very little all that night. Don-Quixote perceiving that none of the four Travellers made any account of him, or answered his challenge, was ready to burst with wrath and despight: and if hee could any wise have found that it was tollerated by the Statutes of Chiva••ry, that a Knight Errant might have lawfully undertaken any enterprize, having plight his word and faith, not to at∣tempt any untill hee had finished that which hee had first promised, hee would have assailed them all and made them ma••gre their teeth to have answered him: But be∣cause it seemed to him not so expedient nor honourable, to began any new Adventure untill hee had installed Micomicona in her Kingdome, hee was forced to bee quiet, expecting to see whereunto the indeavours and diligence of those four Travellers tended: the one whereof found out the Youth, that hee searched, asleep by another Lacquie, little dreaming that any body did look for him; and much lesse, would finde him out thus. The man drew him by the arme, and said, Truely Don Lewis, the habit that you weare, answers very well your calling; and the Bed whereon you lie, the care and tendernesse wherewith your Mother did nurse you. The Youth hereat rub'd his drowsie eyes, and beheld very leisurely him that did hold him fast, and knew him forthwith to bee one of his Fathers Servants, whereat hee was so amazed as hee could not speake a word for a great while: And the Serving-man continuing his speech, said, Here is nothing else to bee done, Lord Lewis, but that you bee patient and de∣part again with us towards home, if you be not pleased to have your Father & my Lord depart out of this World to the other; for no lesse may bee expected from the Woe wherein hee rests for your absence. Why, how did my Father know, said Don Lewis, that I came this way, and in this habit? A Student answered, The other to whom you bewrayed your intention did discover it, moved through the compassion hee took to heare your Fathers lamentations when he found you missing: and so hee dispatcht four of his men in your search; and wee are all at your service more joyfull then may bee imagined, for the good dispatch wherewithall wee shall return, and carrie you to his sight which doth love you so much. That shall bee as I please or Heaven will dispose, said Don Lewis. What would you please, or what should Heaven dispose of, other then that you agree to return? For certainly you shall not doe the contrarie, nor is it possible you should. All these reasons that passed between them both, did the Lackey that lay by Don Lewis heare; and arising from thence, hee went and told all that passed to Don Fernando, Cardenio, and all the rest that were gotten up: To whom

hee told how the man gave the title of Don to the boy, and recounted the speech he used, and how he would have him return to his fathers house, which the youth refused to doe. Whereupon, aud knowing already what a good voice the heavens had given him, they greatly desired to be more particularly informed what he was, and intended also to help him, if any violence were offered unto him, and therefore went unto the place where he was, and stood contending with his servant.

Dorotea issued by this out of her chamber, and in her companie Donna Clara, all perp••xed; Dorotea calling Cardenio aside, told unto him succinctly all the History of the Musician, and Donna Clara: and he rehearsed to her againe all that passed of the Serving-mens arrivall that came in his pursuit, which he did not speak so low, but that Donna Clara over-heard him, whereat she indured such alteration, as she had faln to the ground, if Dorotea running towards her, had not held her up. Cardenio intreated Do∣rotea to returne with the other to her chamber, and he would endevour to bring the matter to some good passe, which they presently performed. The four that were come in Don Lewis his search, were by this all of them entred into the Inn, and had compassed him about, perswading him that he would, cutting off all delayes, returne to com∣fort his father. He answered that he could not doe it in any sort, untill he had finished an adventure, which imported him no lesse then his life, his honour, and his soule. The servants urged him then, saying, that they would in no sort goe backe without him, and therefore would carry him home, whether he would or no. That shall not you doe, quoth Don Lewis, if it be not that you carry me home dead. And in this season all the other Gentlemen were come into the contention, but chiefly Cardenio, Don Fernando and his Comarada's, the Judge the Curate, and the Barber, and Don-Quixote; for now it seemed to him needlesse to guard the Castle any more. Cardenio, who knew already the History of the Youth, demanded of those that would carry him a∣way, what reason did move them to seeke to take that Lad away against his will? Wee are moved unto it, answered one of them, by this reason, that wee shall thereby save his fathers life, who for his absence is like to lose it. To this said Don Lewis, it is to no end to make relation of mine affaires here. I am free, and will returne if I please, and if not no one shall constrain mee to doe it perforce. Reason shall constrain you, good Sir, to doe it, quoth the man, and when that cannot prevaile with you, it shall with us, to put that in execution for which we be come and are bound to doe. Let us know this af∣faire from the begining, said the Judge to those men. Sir, quoth one of them, who knew him very well, as his Masters next neighbour: Master Justice, doth not your wor∣ship know this Gentleman who is your Neighbours sonne, and hath absented himselfe from his fathers house, in an habit so undecent and discrepant from his calling, as you may perceive? The Judge beheld him then somewhat more attentively, knew him, and imbracing of him said. What toyes are these Don Lewis, or what cause hath beene of efficacie sufficient to move you to come away in this manner and attyre, which an∣swers your calling so ill? The teares stuck then in the young Gentlemans eyes, and hee could not answere a word to the Judge, who bad the foure servingmen app••a••e themselves, for all things should bee done to their satisfaction, and then takeing Don Lewis apart, hee intreated him to tell him the occasion of that his de∣parture.

And whilest hee made this and other demands to the Gentleman, they heard a great noyse at the In doore; the cause whereof was, that two Guests which had lien there that night, seeing all the People busied to learne the cause of the foure Horse-mens coming, had thought to have made an escape scot-free, without defraying their expences; but the In-keeper who attended his owne affaires with more diligence then other mens, did stay them at their going forth, and demanded his money, upbrayding their dishonest re∣solution with such words as moved them to returne him an answere with their fists, which they did so roundly, as the poore Oast was compelled to raise the crie and de∣mand succour. The Oastesse and her daughter could see no man so free from occupati∣on as Don-Quixote; to whom the daughter said, I request you Sir Knight, by the virtue that God hath given you, to succour my poore Father, whom two bad men are grind∣ing

like corne. To this Don-Quixote answered very leisurely, and with great gravity; Beautifull Damzell, your Petition cannot prevaile at this time, for as much as I am hin∣dred from undertaking any other Adventure, untill I have finished one wherein my promise hath ingaged mee, and all that I can now doe in your service is, that which I shall say now unto you; Run unto your Father, and bid him continue and maintaine his conflict manfully, the best that hee may, untill I demand license of the Princesse Mi∣comicona, to help him out of his distresse; for if shee will give it unto mee, you may make full account that hee is delivered. Sinner that I am (quoth Maritornes, wh•• was by and heard what hee said) before you shall bee able to obteyne that License, of which you speake, my Master will bee departed to the other World. Worke you so Lady, quoth Don-Quixote, that I may have the License; for so that I may have it, it will make no great matter, whether hee bee in the other world or no, for even from thence would I bring him back againe, in despight of the other World it selfe, if it durst contradict mee, or at least wise I will take such a revenge of those that doe send him to the other World, as you shall remaine more then meanely contented; and so without replying any more, hee went and fell on his knees before Dorotea, demanding of her in Knightly and Errant phrases, that shee would daigne to license him to goe and succour the Con∣stable of that Castle, who was then plunged in a deepe distresse. The Princesse did grant him leave very willingly, and hee presently, buckling on his Target, and laying hold on his Sword, ranne to the Inne doore, where yet the two Guests stood hand∣somly tuging the Innkeeper: But as soone as hee arived, hee stopt and stood still, al∣though Maritornes and the Oastesse demanded of him twice or thrice the cause of his restiffenesse: in not assisting her Lord and Husband. I stay quoth Don-Quixote, be∣cause according to the Lawes of Armes, it is not permitted to mee to lay hand to my Sword against Squire-like men that are not dubbed Knights: But call to mee here my Squire Sancho, for this defence and revenge concernes him as his duty. This passed at the Inne doore, where fists und blowes were interchangeably given, and taken in the best sort, although to the Innkeepers cost, and to the rage and griefe of Maritornes, the Oastesse, and her daughter, who were like to runne wood, beholding Don-Quixotes cowardise, and the mischiefe their Master, Husband and Father endured, But here let us leave them; for there shall not want one to succour him, or if not, let him suffer, and all those that wittingly undertake things beyond their power and force; and let us turne backward to heare that which Don Lewis answered the Judge, whom wee left somewhat apart with him, demanding the cause of his comming a foote, and in so base aray; to which the Youth, wringing him hard•• by the hands, as an Argument that some extraordinary griefe pinched his heart, and sheding many teares, answered in this manner.

I know not what else I may tell you, deere Sir, but that from the instant that hea∣ven made us Neighbours, and that I saw Donna Clara, your Daughter and my Lady, I made her Commandresse of my Will; and if yours, my true Lord and Father, doe not hinder it, shee shall bee my Spouse this very day. For her sake have I abandoned my Fa∣thers house, and for her I did on this attyre, to follow her wheresoever shee went•• as the Arrow doth the Marke, or the Mariner the North-starre: Shee is as yet, no far∣ther acquainted with my desires, then as much as shee might understand somtimes, by the teares which shee saw mine eyes distill a farre off: Now Sir, you know the Riches and Nobility of my discent, and how I am my Fathers sole Heire, and if it seeme unto you that these bee conditions whereupon you may venter to make mee throughly happy, accept of mee presently for your sonne in Law; for if my Father, borne away by other his Designes, shall not like so well of this good which I have sought out for my selfe, yet time hath more force to undoe and change the affaires, then mens Will. Here the a∣morous Gentleman held his peace, and the Judge remayned astonied as well at the grace and discretion wherewith Don Lewis had discovered his affections unto him, as al∣so to see himselfe in such a passe, that as hee knew not what course hee might best take in so suddaine and unexpected a matter; and therefore hee answered no other thing at that time, but only bad him to settle his minde, and entertayne the time with his Ser∣vants,

and deale with them to expect that day, because hee might have leisure to con∣sider what might bee most convenient for all. Don Lewis did kisse his hands perforce, and did bathe them with tears, a thing able to move a heart of Marble, and much more the Judges, who (as a wise man) did presently perceive how beneficiall and honourable was that preferment for his Daughter; although hee could have wished, if it had been possible, to effect it with the consent of Don Lewis his Father, who hee knew did pur∣pose to have his Sonne made a Noble man of Title.

By this time the Inn-keeper and his Ghests had agreed, having paid him all that they ought, more by Don-Quixotes perswasion and good reasons, then by any mena∣ces: And Don Lewis his Servants expected the end of the Judge his discourse and his resolution: When the Devill (who never sleeps) would have it, at that very time entred into the Inne the Barber from whom Don-Quixote took away the Helmet of Mambrino, and Sancho Panca the furniture of the Asse, whereof hee made an ex∣change for his own: which Barber, leading his Beast to the Stable, saw Sancho Panca, who was mending some part of the Pannell; and as soon as hee had eyed him, he knew him, and presently set upon Sancho, saying. A Sir Thief, have I found you here with all the Furniture whereof you rob'd me? Sancho that saw himself thus assaulted unex∣pectedly, and had heard the disgracefull termes which the other used, laying fast hold on the Pannell with the one hand, gave the Barber such a buffet with the other, as hee bathed all his teeth in blood: but yet for all that the Barber held fast his gripe of the Pannell, and therewithall cryed out so loud, as all those that were in the house came to the noyse and conflict: and hee said, I call for the King and Justice; for this Thief and Robber by the High-wayes goeth about to kill me, because I seek to recover mine own goods. Thou lyest, quoth Sancho, for I am not a Robber by the High waies; for my Lord Don-Quixote wonne those spoyles in a good Warre. By this time Don-Quixote himsel was come thither, not a little proud to see how well his Squire de∣fended himself, and offended his Adversarie; and therefore hee accounted him from thenceforth to bee a man of valour, and purposed in his minde to dub him Knight on the first occasion that should bee offered, because he thought that the Order of Knight∣hood would bee well imployed by him.

Among oeher things that the Barber said in the discourse of his contention, this was one: Sirs, this Pannell is as certainly mine, as the death which I owe unto God, and I know it as well as if I had bred it, and there is my Asse in the Stable who will not per∣mit me to tell a lye; or otherwise doe but trye the Pannell on him, and if it fit him not justly I am content to remain infamous: And I can say more, that the very day wherein they took my Pannell from me, they robbed me likewise of a new brazen Bason which was never used, and cost me a crown. Here Don-Quixote could no lon∣ger contain himself from speaking; and so thrusting himself between them two, and putting them asunder, and causing the Pannell to bee laid publiquely on the ground until the truth were decided, he said; To the end that you may perceive the cleer and ma∣nifest error wherein this good Squire lives; see how hee calls that a Bason which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was, and shall bee the Helmet of Mambrino, which I took away perfor••e from him in fair War, and made my self Lord thereof in a Lawfull and Warlike manner: About the Pannell I will not contend; for that which I can say therein is, that my Squire Sancho demanded leave of me to take away the Furniture of this vanquished Cowards Horse that hee might adorn his own withall: I gave him author tie to doe it, and hee took them: And for his converting thereof from a Horses Furniture into a Pannell, I can give none other reason then the ordinarie one, to wi•• that such trans∣formations are usually seen in the successes of Chivalrie; for confirmation whereof friend Sancho runne speedily and bring me out the Helmet which this good man a∣voucheth to bee a Bason. By my faith Sir, quoth Sancho, if wee have no better proof of our intention then that which you say, I say that the Helmet of Mambrino is as arrant a Bason, as this good mans Furniture is a Pannell. Doe what I command, said Don-Quixote: I cannot believe that all the things in this Castle will bee guided by inchantment. Sancho went for the Bason, and brought it: and as soon as Don-Quixote

saw it, hee took it in his hands and said, See Sirs, with what face can this im∣pudent Squire affirm that this is a Bason, and not the Helmet that I have mentioned? and I swear to you all by the Order of Knight-hood which I professe, that this is the very same Helmet which I wonne from him, without having added or taken any thing from it. That it is questionlesse, quoth Sancho; for since the time that my Lord wonne it untill now, hee never fought but one Battell with it, when hee delivered the un∣luckie chained men; and, but for this Bason-Helmet, hee had not escaped so free as hee did, so thick a showre of stones rained all the time of that conflict.

CHAP. XVIII.

Wherein are decided the controversies of the Helmet of Mam∣brino, and of the Pannell, with other strange and most true Adventures.

GOod Sirs, quoth the Barber, what do you think of that which is affirmed by these Gentlemen who yet contend that this is not a Bason, but a Helmet? He that denies it, quoth Don Quixote, I will make him know that hee lyes, if he be a Knight; and if hee bee but a Squire, that hee lyes and lyes again a thousand times. Our Barber who was also present, as one that knew Don-Quixotes humour very well, would fortifie his folly and make the Jest passe yet a little farther, to the end that they all might laugh: and therefore speaking to the other Barber, hee said Sir Barber, or what else you please, know that I am also of your occupation, and have had my writ of examination and approbation in that Trade more then these thirtie yeers, and am one that knows very well all the instruments of Barberie whatsoever; and have been besides in my youthfull dayes a Souldier; and doe therefore likewise know what is a Helmet, and what a Morrion, and what a close Castle, and other things touching Warfare; I mean all the kinde of Armes that a Souldier ought to have: and therefore I say (still submitting my self to the better opinion) that this peece which is laid here before us, and which this good Knight holds in his hand, not only is not a Barbers Bason, but also is so farre from being one as is white from black, or veritie from untruth; yet doe I withall affirm, that although it is an Helmet, yet it is not a compleat Helmet. No truely, quoth Don-Quixote, for it wants the half, to wit, the nether part and the Bever. It is very true, quoth the Curate, who very well under∣stood his friend the Barber his intention; and the same did Cardenio, Don Fernando, and the rest of his fellows confirm; yea, and even the Judge himself, had not Don Lewis his affair perplexed his thoughts, would for his part have holpen the Jest well forward: But the earnestnesse of that affair held his minde so busied, as hee little or nothing at∣tended the pastime. Lord have mercy upon me, quoth the other Barber, then half beside himself, and is it possible that so many honourable men should say that this is no Bason, but a Helmet? This is a thing able to strike admiration into a whole Uni∣versitie, how discreet soever it were: it is enough if this Bason must needs bee a Hel∣met, the Pannell must also bee a Horses Furniture, as this Gentleman sayes. To mee it seems a Pannell, quoth Don-Quixote; but as I have said, I will not meddle with it, nor determine whether it bee a Pannell or the Capparison of a Horse.

Therein is nothing else to bee done said the Curate, but that Sir Don-Quixote say it once; for in these matters of Chivalrie, all these Noblemen, and my selfe, doe give un∣to him the prick and the prize; I sweate unto you by my Iove good Sirs, quoth Don-Quixote, that so many and so strange are the things which have befaln mee in this Ca∣stle,

these two times that I have lodged therein, as I dare avouch nothing affirmatively of any thing that shall bee demanded of mee concerning the things contained in it; for I doe infallibly imagine, that all the Adventures which passe in it, are guided by inchant∣ment: the first time, I was very much vexed by an inchanted Moore that was in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Sancho himselfe sped not very well with the Moores followers; and yesternight I stood hanging almost two houres space by this arme, without knowing how, or how that disgrace befell mee; so that for me to meddle now in so confused and difficult a matter, as to deliver mine opinion, were to passe a rash judgement: So that they which say that this is a Bason and no Helmet, I have already made answere; but whether this bee a Pannell or furniture, I dare pronounce no difinitive Sentence, but only remit it to your discreet opinions: perhaps because you are not dubbed Knights as I am, the in∣chantments of this place will have no power over you, and your understandings shall be free and able to judge of the things in this Castle really and truly, and not as they seeme unto me. Doubtlesse quoth Don Fernando, Don-Quixote sayes very well, that the definition of this case belongs unto us; and therefore, and because wee may pro∣ceede in it upon the the better and more solid grounds, I will secretly take the Suffra∣ges of all those Gentlemen, and afterwards make a cleere and full Relation of what shall come of them.

To those that knew Don-Quixote his humour, this was a matter of marvailous laughter, & sport; but to such as were not acquainted therewithall, it seemed the greatest folly of the world, especially to Don Lewis, and his four servants, and with other three Passengers that had arrived ••y chance to the Inne, and seemed to bee Troupers of the holy Brother-hood, as indeed they were: but hee that was most of all beside himself for wrath, was the Barber, whose Bason they had transformed before his owne, face into the Helmet of Mambrino, and whose Pannell hee made full account should likewise be turned into the rich Furniture, and Equipage of a great, Horse. All of them laughed heartily, to see Don Fernando goe up and downe, taking the Suffrages of this man and that, and rounding every one of them in the eare that they might declare in secret whether that was a pannell or a furniture, for which such deadly contention had passed. After that he had taken the suffrages of so many as knew Don-Quixote, he said very lowdly, The truth is, good fellow, that I grow weary of demanding so many opi∣nions; for I can no sooner demand of any man what I desire to know, but they forth∣with answer mee, how it is meere madnesse to affirme, that this is the pannell of an Asse, but rather the furniture of a Horse, yea and of a chiefe Horse of service; and therefore you must have patience for in despite both of you and of your Asse, and not∣withstanding your weak allegations and worse prooves it is, and will continue the furniture of a great Horse, Let me never injoy a place in Heaven (quoth the Barber) if you all be not deceived; and so may my soul appear before God, as it appears to me, to be a pannell, and no horse furniture: but the law carries it away, and so farewell it: and yet surely I am not drunk; for unlesse it be by sinning, my fast hath not been broken this day.

The follies which the Barber uttered, stirred no lesse laughter among them, then did the rorings of Don-Quixote, who then spoke in this manner: Here is now no more to be done, but that every man take up his owne goods, and to whom God hath given them, let S. Peter give his blessing. Then said one of the four Servingmen, If this were not a jest premeditated, and made of purpose, I could not perswade my self, that men of so good understanding as all these are, or seem to be, should dare to say, and affirm, that this is not a Bason, nor that a Pannell: but seeing that they averr it so constantly, I have cause to suspect that it cannot bee without a great deale of Mysterie, to af∣firme a thing so contrary to that which very truth it selfe, and experience demonstrates unto us: for I doe vow (and saying so he rapt out a round oath or two) that as many as are in the world, should never make me beleeve that this is no bason, nor that no pan∣nell of a he-Asse. It might as well be of a she-Asse, quoth the Curate. That comes all but to one, replied the other; for the question consists not therein, but whether it be a pannell or not, as you doe avouch? Then one of the Troupers of the holy Brother∣hood

(who had listned to their disputation, and was grown full of choler to hear such an errour maintained, said, It is as very a pannell, as my father is my father; and hee that hath said, or shall say the contrary, is, I beleeve, turned into a grape. Thou lyest like a clownish knave (qd. Don-Quixote:) and lifting up his Javelin, which he al∣wayes held in his hand, hee discharged such a blow at the Troupers pate, as if he had not avoyded, it would have thrown him to the ground. The Javelin was broken by the force of the fall into splinters; and the other Troupers, seeing their fellow misused, cried out for help, and assistance for that holy Brotherhood. The Inkeeper, who also was one of the same Fraternitie, ranne in for his rod of Justice, and his sword, and then stood by his fellowes. Don Lewis his foure Servants compassed him about lest hee should attempt to escape whilest the tumult indured. The Barbar seeing all the house turned upside downe, laid hand againe upon his Pannell, and the same did Sancho.

Don-Quixote set hand to his Sword and assaulted the Troopers. Don Lewis cryed to his serving men that they should leave him, and goe to helpe Don-Quixote, Cardenio and Don Fernando; for all of them tooke Don-Quixotes part. The Curate cried out, the Oastesse shrieked, her Daughter squeaked, Maritornos houled, Dorotea stood con∣fused, Luscinda amazed, and Donna Clara dismayed; the Barbar battered Sancho, and Sancho pounded him againe. Don Lewis, on whom one of his Serving men had presu∣med to lay hands, and hold him by the arme, gave him such a pash on the mouth, as hee broke his Teeth, and then the Judge tooke him into his owne protection. Don Fernando had gotten one of the Troopers under his feet, where he stood belabouring him at plea∣sure. The Innekeeper renewed his out-cry, and reinforced his voyce, demanding ayde for the holy. Brotherhood: So that all the Inn seemed nothing else but Plaints, Cryes, Screetches, Confusions, Feares, Dreads, Disgraces, Slashes, Buffets, Blows, Spurnings, and effusion of Blood.

In the midst of this Chaos and Labyrinth of things, Don-Quixote began to imagine and fancie to himselfe, that hee was at that very time plunged up to the eares in the dis∣cord and conflict of King Agramante his Campe; and therefore hee said with a voice that made all the Inne to tremble: All of you, hold your hands all of you, put up your Swords, all of you bee quiet and listen to mee, if any of you desire to continue alive. That great and monstrous voice made them all stand still; thereupon hee thus procee∣ded. Did not I tell you Sirs, that this Castle was inchanted, and that some Legion of Devills did inhabit it? In confirmation whereof, I would have you but to note with your owne eyes, how the very discord of King Agramants Campe is transferred hither, and passed ever among us. Looke how there they fight for the Sword, here for the Horse, yonder for the Eagle, beyond for the Helmet; and all of us fight, and none of us know for what. Come therefore, you Master Justice, and you Master Cu∣rate, and let the one represent King Agramant, and the other King Sobrino, and make Peace and Atonement among us: for I sweare by Almighty Iove, that it is great wrong and pittie, that so many Noblemen, as wee are here, should be slaine for so sleight causes.

The Troopers, which did not understand Don-Quixotes manner of speech, and saw themselves very ill handled by Don Fernando and Cardenio, would in no wise bee pacifi∣ed; But the Barber was content, by reason that in the conflict both his beard and his Pannell had beene torne in peeces. Sancho to his Masters voice was quickly obedient, as became a dutifull Servant. Don Lewis his foure serving men stood also quiet, seeing how little was gained in being other; only the Innekeeper persisted as before, affirming that punishment was due unto the insolencies of that mad man, who every foote confound∣ed and disquieted his Inne. Finally, the rumor was pacified for that time; the Pannell remained for a Horse furniture untill the day of judgement; the Bason for a Helmet, and the Inn for a Castle in Don-Quixotes imagination. All the broyles being now appea∣sed, and all men accorded by the Judges and Curates perswasions; then began Don Lewis his servants again to urge him to depart with them, and whilest hee and they debated the matter, the Judge communicated the whole to Don Fernando, Cardenio, and

the Curate, desiring to know their opinions concerning that affair, and telling them all that Don Lewis had said unto him; whereupon they agreed that Don Fernando should tell the Serving-men what hee himself was, and how it was his pleasure that Don Lewis should goe with him to Andaluzia, where hee should bee cherished and accounted of by the Marquesse his Brother, according unto his calling and deserts; for hee knew well Don Lewis his resolution to bee such, as he would not return into his Fathers pre∣sence at that time, although they core him into peeces. Don Fernando his quality, and Don Lewis his intention being understood by the four, they agreed among themselves, that three of them should goe back to beare the tidings of all that had passed, to his Father, and the other should abide there to attend on him and never to leave him untill they returned to fetch him home, or knew what else his Father would command: And in this sort was that monstrous bulk of division and contention reduced to some forme by the authority of Agramant and the wisdome of King Sobrino.

But the Enemie of Concord, and the Adversarie of Peace, finding his projects to bee thus illuded and condemned, and seeing the little fruit hee had gotten by setting them all by the eares, resolved once again to trye his wits, and stir up new discords and troubles, which befell in this manner: The Troupers were quieted, having understood the calling of those with whom they had contended, and retired themselves from the brawl, knowing that howsoever the cause succeeded they themselves should have still the worst end of the staffe: But one of them, who was the very same whom Don Fer∣nando had buffetted so well, remembred how among many other Warrants that hee had to apprehend Malefactors, hee had one for Don-Quixote, whom the Holy-Bro∣therhood had commanded to bee apprehended for freeing of the Gally-Slaves, a disaster which Sancho had before-hand with very great reason feared:) As soon as he remem∣bred it, hee would needs trye whether the signes that were given him of Don-Quixote did agree with his person; and so taking out of his bosome a scorll of Parchment wherein they were written, hee presently found out that which hee looked for; and reading it a while very leisurely, as one that was himself no great Clerke, at every other word hee looked on Don-Quixote, and confronted the marks of his warrant with those of Don-Quixotes face, and found that he was infallibly the man that was therein men∣tioned: And scarce was hee perswaded that it was hee, when folding up his Parch∣ment, and holding the Warrant in his left hand, hee laid hold on Don-Quixotes coller with the right so strongly as hee could hardly breath, and cryed out aloud, saying, Aid for the Holy-Brotherhood: and that you may perceive how I am in good earnest, read that Warrant, wherein you shall finde that this Robber by the High-way side is to bee apprehended. The Curate took the Warrant and perceived very well that the Trouper said true, and that the marks agreed very neer with Don-Quixotes; who seeing him∣self so abused by that base Rascall, as hee accounted him, his choler being mounted to her height, and all the bones of his body crashing for wrath, hee seized as well as hee could with both his hands on the Troupers throat, and that in such sort, as if hee had not been speedily succoured by his fellows, hee had there left his life are Don-Quixote would have abandoned his gripe.

The Inne-keeper, who of force was to assist his fellow in Office, forthwith repaired unto his aide. The Hostesse seeing her Husband re-enter into contentions and brables, raised a new crie, whose burden was borne by her Daughter and Maritornes, asking succour of Heaven and those that were present. Sancho seeing all that passed, said, By the Lord all that my Master hath said of the Inchantments of this Castle is true; for it is not possible for a man to live quietly in it one hour together.

Don Fernando parted the Trouper and Don-Quixote, and with the good will of both unfastened their holds: but yet the Troupers for all this desisted not to require their Prisoner, and withall, that they should help to get him tyed and absolutely rendred unto their wills; for so it was requisite for the King and the Holy Brotherhood, in whose name they did again demand their help and assistance for the Arresting of that publique Robber and Spoyler of People in common Paths and High-wayes.

Don-Quixote laughed to heare them speake so idlely, as hee imagined, and said with very great gravitie; Come hither, you filthie base extractions of the dunghill, dare you terme the losing of the inchayned, the freeing of Prisoners, the assisting of the wretched, the raysing of such as are falne, and the supplying of those that are in want? Dare you (I say) terme these things robbing on the High-way? O infamous brood, worthy for your base and vile conceit, that Heav'n should never communicate with you the valour included in the exercise of Chivalrie, wee give you to understand the sinne and errour wherein you are, by not adoring the very shadow, how much more the assistance of a Knight Errant? Come hither, O you that bee no Troopers, but Theeves in troope, and Robbers of high-wayes by permission of the Holy Brotherhood: Come hither I say, and tell mee, who was that jolt-head that did subscribe or ratifie a Warrant for the attach∣ing of such a Knight as I am? Who was hee that knowes not how Knights errant are exempted from all Tribunals? and how that their Sword is the Law, their Valour the Bench, and their Wills the Statutes of their Courts? I say againe, what mad man was hee that knowes not how that no priviledge of Gentry injoyes so many preemiencies, immunities, and exemptions, as that which a Knight errant acquires the day wherein he is dubbed, and undertakes the rigorous exercise of Armes? What Knight Errant did e∣ver pay tribute, subsidie, tallage, carriage, or passage over water? What Taylor ever had money for making his clothes? What Constable ever lodged him in Castle, that made him after to pay for the shot? What King hath not placed him at his owne Table? What Damzell hath not faln in love with him, and permitted him to use her as hee liked? And finally, what Knight errant was there ever, is, or ever shall bee in the World, which hath not the courage himselfe alone to give foure hundred blowes with a cudgell to foure hundred Troopers that shall presume to stand before him in ho∣stile manner?

CHAP. XIX.

In which is finished the notable Adventure of the Troopers, and the great ferocitie of our Knight Don-Quixote, and how hee was Inchanted.

WHILEST Don-Quixote said this, the Curate laboured to per∣swade the Troopers, how the Knight was distracted, as they them∣selves might collect by his works and words, & therefore it would bee to no end to prosecute their Designe any farther, seeing that although they did apprehend and carry him away, hee would bee presently delivered againe as a mad-man. To this, hee that had the Warrant made answere, that it concerned him not to deter∣mine whether hee was mad or no, but only to obey and execute his superiours command; and that being once Prisoner, they might deliver him three hundred times and if it were their good pleasure. For all that (quoth the Curate) you may not carrie him with you at this time, nor (as I suppose) will hee suffer himself to bee taken. To bee brief, the Curate said so much, and Don-Quixote plaid so many mad pranks, as the Troupers themselves would have proved greater fools then hee, if they had not manifestly discerned his defect of judgement: and therefore they held it to bee the best course to let him alone, yea and bee compounders of Peace and Amity between Sancho Panca and the Barber, which still continued their most rancorous and deadly contention. Finally, they, as the Officers of Justice, did mediate the cause, and

were Arbiters thereof in such sort, as both the parties remained, though not wholly con∣tented, yet in some sort satisfied; for they only made them exchange their Pannells, but not their Gyrts or Head-stalls.

As touching Mambrino's Helmet, the Curate did unawares to Don-Quixote, give to the Barber eight ryals by it, and the Barber gave back unto him an acquittance of the receit thereof, and an everlasting release of all actions concerning it. These two dis∣cords which were the most principall, and of most consequence, being thus accorded, it onely rested, that three of Don Lewis his Servingmen would be content to return home, and leave the fourth to accompanie his Master whither Don Fernando pleased to carry him. And as good hap and better fortune had already begun to break Lances, and facilitate difficulties, in the favour of the Lovers, and worthy persons of the Inn, so did it resolve to proceed forward, and give a prosperous successe unto all: for the Servingmen were content to doe whatsoever their master would have them: whereat Donna Clara was so cheerfull, as no one beheld her face in that season, but might read therein the inward contentment of her mind. Zoraida, although she did not very well understand all the seccesses of the things she had seen, yet was she interchangably griev∣ed and cheered according to the shews made by the rest, but chiefly by her Spaniard, on whom her eyes were alwaies fixed, and all the affects of her mind depended. The Inkeeper, who did not forget the recompence made by the Curate to the Barber, de∣manded of him Don-Quixotes expences, and satisfaction for the damage he had done to his Wine-baggs, and the losse of his Wine, swearing that neither Rozinante, nor San∣cho his Asse should depart out of the Inne, untill he were payed the very last far∣thing. All was quietly ended by the Curate, and Don Fernando paid the whole sum although the Judge had also most liberally offered to doe it; and all of them remained afterwards in such quietnesse and peace, as the Inn did no longer resemble the discorded Camp of Agramante (as Don-Quixote termed it) but rather enjoyed the very peace and tranquilitie of the Emperour Octavians time; for all which the common opinion was, that thanks were justly due to the sincere proceeding and great eloquence of Master Curate, and to the incomparable liberalitie and goodnesse of Don Fernando. Don-Quixote, perceiving himself free and delivered from so many difficulties and brabbles (wherewithall as well hee as his Esquire had been perplexed) held it high time to pro∣secute his commenced voyage, and bring to an end the great Adventure unto which hee was called and chosen: Therefore with resolute determination to depart, hee went and cast himself on his knees before Dorotea, who not permitting him to speak untill he arose, he to obey her stood up & said, It is a common Proverb, beautifull Ladie, That Diligence is the mother of Good-hap; and in many and grave Affairs experience hath shewed, that the sollicitude and sore of the suiter oft brings a doubtfull matter to a certain and happie end: But this truth appears in nothing more cleerly, then in mat∣ters of Warre; wherein celeritie and expedition prevent the Enemies Designes, and obtain the Victory before an Adversary can put himself in defence: All this I say, high and worthie Ladie, because it seems to mee, that our abode in this Castle is nothing profitable, and many therewithall turn so farre to our hindrance, as wee may palpably feel it one day: For who knows but that your enemie the Gyant, hath learned by Spies or other secret intelligence and means how I mean to come and destroy him, and (oportunitie favouring his designes) that hee may have fortified himself in some inexpugnable Castle or Fortresse, against the strength whereof neither mine industrie nor the force of mine invincible Arme can much prevail: wherefore, deer Ladie, let us prevent (as I have said) by our dilligence, and let us presently depart unto the place whereunto wee are called by our good Fortune, which shall bee deferred no longer then I am absent from your Highnesse foe. Here hee held his peace, and did expect, with great gravitie, the beautifull Princesse's answer; who with debonair countenance, and a stile accommodated unto Don-Quixote, returned him this answer: I doe gra∣tifie and thank, Sir Knight, the desire you shew to assist me in this my great need, which denotes very cleerly the great care you have to favour Orphans and distressed Wights; and I beseech God, that your good desires and mine may bee accomplished, to the end

that you may see how there are some thankfull women on earth; as touching my de∣parture, let it bee forthwith; for I have none other will then that which is yours: therefore you may dispose of me at your own pleasure; for she that hath once committed the defence of her person unto you, and hath put into your hands the restitution of her estate, ought not to seek to doe any other thing then that which your wisedome shall ordain. In the name of God (quoth Don-Quixote) seeing that your Highnesse doth so humble your self unto me, I will not lose the occasion of exalting it, and installing it again in the throne of your inheritance. Let our departure bee incontinent; for my desires, and the way, and that which they call the danger that is in delay, doe spur me on: And seeing that Heaven never created, nor Hell ever beheld any man that could affright me or make a Coward of me, goe therefore Sancho and saddle Rozinante, and empannell thine Asse, and make ready the Queens Palfrey, and let us take leave of the Constable and those other Lords and depart away from hence in∣stantly.

Then Sancho (who was present at all this) waging of his head said, O my Lord, my Lord, how much more knaverie (be it spoken with the pardon of all honest kerchiefs) is there in the little Village then is talked of? What ill can there bee in any Village, or in all the Cities of the World, able to impaire my credit, thou Villaine? If thou be an∣gry, quoth Sancho, I will hold my tongue, and omit to say that which by the dutie of a good Squire and of an honest servant I am bound to tell you. Say what thou wilt, quoth Don-Quixote, so thy words bee not addrest to make mee afraid; for if thou beest trighted, thou doest only like thy selfe; and if I bee devoyd of terror, I also doe that which I ought. It is not that which I meane, quoth Sancho, but that I doe hold for most sure and certaine, that this Ladie which calls her selfe Queene of the great King∣dome of Micomicon, is no more a Queene then my Mother; for if shee were what shee saies, shee would not at every corner and at every turning of a hand bee billing as shee is, with one that is in this good company. Dorotea blushed at Sancho's words; for it was true indeede, that her Spouse Don Fernando would now and then privately steale from her lips some part of the reward which his desires did merit (which Sancho espying, it seemed to him, that that kinde of wanton familiarity was more proper to Curtezans, then becomming the Queene of so great a Kingdome) and yet shee neither could nor would reply unto him, but let him continue his speech, as fol∣loweth. This I doe say good my Lord, quoth hee, to this end; That if after wee have run many waies and courses, and indured bad nights and worse daies, hee that is in this Inn, sporting himselfe, shall come to gather the fruit of our labours; there is no reason to hasten me thus to saddle Rozinante, or empannell the Asse, or make ready the Palfrey seeing it would be better that we stayed still, and that every whore spun, and wee sell to our victuals.

O God, how great was the fury that inflamed Don-Quixote, when he heard his Squire speake so respectlesly! I say it was so great, that with a shaking voice, a faul∣tering tongue, and the fire sparkling out of his eyes, he said, O villanous peasant, rash, unmanerly, ignorant, rude, blasphemous, bold murmurer, and detractor, hast thou presumed to speake such words in my presence, and in that of these noble Ladies? and hast thou dared to entertaine such rash and dishonest surmises into thy confused imagination? Depart out of my sight, thou monster of nature, store-house of un∣truthes, armorie of falshood, sinke of rogerie, inventour of Villainie, publisher of ravings, and the enemy of that decencie which is to be used towards royall persons. Away villaine, and never appear before me, under paine of mine indignation. And saying so he bended his browes, fild up his cheekes, looked about him on every side, and struck a great blow with his right foot on the ground; all manifest tokens of the rage which inwardly fretted him. At which words and furious gestures poor Sancho remained so greatly affrighted, as he could have wished in that instant, that the earth opening under his feet, would swallow him up, and knew not what to doe, but turne his back, and get him out of his Lords most furious presence. But the dis∣creet Dorotea (who was now so well schooled in Don-Quixotes humour) to mitigate

his yre, said unto him; Be not offended, good Sir Knight of the sad face, at the idle words which your good Squire hath spoken: for perhaps he hath not said them with∣out some ground, nor of his good understanding and Christian minde can it be su∣spected, that he would wittingly slander or accuse any body falsely: And therefore we must beleeve, without all doubt, that as in this Castle, as you your selfe have said, Sir Knight, all things are represented, and succeed by manner of inchantment; I say, it might befall, that Sancho may have seene by Diabolicall illusion, that which he saies, he beheld so much to the prejudice of my reputation.

I vow by the omnipotent Iove, quoth Don-Quixote, that your Highnesse hath hit the very prick, and that some wicked Vision appeared to this sinner my man Sancho, that made him to see that which otherwise were impossible to bee seen by any other way then that of inchantment; for I know very well the great goodnesse and simpli∣citie of that poor wretch is such, as hee knows not how to invent a lye on any bodie living. It is even so, and so it shall bee, quoth Don Fernando: and therefore, good Sir Don-Quixote, you must pardon him, and reduce him again to the bosome of your good grace: Sicut erat in Principio, and before the like Visions did distract his sense. Don-Quixote answered, that hee did willingly pardon him: And therefore the Curate went for Sancho, who returned very humbly; and kneeling down on his knees, de∣manded his Lords hand, which hee gave unto him; and after that hee had permited him to kisse it, hee gave him his blissing, saying; Now thou shalt finally know, Sancho, that which I have told thee divers times, how that all the things of this Castle are made by way of inchantment. So doe I verily believe, said Sancho, except that of the can∣vassing in the Blanket, which really succeeded by an ordinary and naturall way. Doe not believe that, said Don-Quixote; for if it were so, I would both then, and also now have taken a dire revenge: but neither then, nor now could I ever see any, on whom I might revenge that thine injurie. All of them desired greatly to know what that accident of the Blanket was: And then the Inn-keeper recounted it point by point, the flights that Sancho Panca made; whereat they all did laugh not a little; and Sancho would have been ashamed no lesse, if his Lord had not anew perswaded him that it was a meer inchantment: And yet Sancho's madnesse was never so great, as to beleeve that it was not a reall truth verily befaln him, without any colour or mixture of fraud or il∣lusion; but that hee was tossed by persons of Flesh, Blood, and Bone, and not by dreamed and imagined shadows or Spirits, as his Lord beleeved, and so con∣stantly affirmed.

Two dayes were now expired when all that Noble companie had sojourned in the Inn, and then it seeming unto them high time to depart: They devised how (without putting Dorotea and Don Fernando to the pains to turn back with Don-Quixote to his Village, under pretence of restoring the Queen Micomicona) the Curate and Bar∣ber might carry him back as they desired, and indevour to have him cured of his folly in his own house. And their invention was this: They agreed with one, who by chance passed by that way with a Teame of Oxen, to carry him in this order follow∣ing: They made a thing like a Cage of Timber, so big as that Don-Quixote might sit or lie in it at his ease: and presently after Don Fernando and his fellows, with Don Lewis his Servants, the Troupers, and the Inn-keeper, did all of them, by Master Cu∣rates direction, cover their faces and disguise themselves, every one as hee might best, so that they might seem to Don-Quixote other people then such as hee had seen in the Castle. And this being done, they entred with very great silence into the place where hee slept and took his rest after the related conflicts: And approaching him who slept securely, not fearing any such accident; and laying hold on him very strongly, they tyed his hands and his feet very strongly, so that when hee started out of his sleep, hee could not stir himself, nor doe any other thing then admire and wonder at those strange shapes that he saw standing before him; and presently hee fell into the conceit which his continuall and distracted imagination had already suggested unto him, beleeving that all those strange figures were the Spirits and shadows of that inchanted Castle, and that hee himself was now without doubt inchanted, seeing hee could neither move nor

defend himself. All this succeeded just as the Curate (who plotted the jest) made full account it would: Only Sancho, among all those that were present, was in his right sense and shape; and although hee wanted but little to bee sick of his Lords disease, yet for all that hee knew all those counterfeit Ghosts; but hee would not once unfold his lips, untill hee might see the end of that surprizall and imprisonment of his Master; who likewise spoke never a word, but only looked to see what would bee the period of his disgrace: Which was, that bringing him to the Cage, they shut him within, and afterwards nailed the Barrs thereof so well as they could not bee easily broken: They presently mounted him upon their shoulders; and as hee issued out at the chamber door, they heard as dreadfull a voyce as the Barber could devise (not hee of the Pannell•• but the other) which said, O Knight of the sad-Countenance! bee not grieved at the im∣prisonment whereinto thou art led; for so it must bee, that thereby the Adventure, into which thy great Force and Valour have thrust thee, may bee the more spedily ended; and ended it will bee, when the furious Manchegall-Lyon, and the white Tobosian-Dove shall bee united in one; and after they have humbled their lofty Crest unto the soft Yoake of Wedlock, from whose wonderfull consort shall issue to the light of the Orbe, fierce Whelps which shall imitate the raunching paws of their valourous Father: And this shall bee be∣fore the pursuer of the fugitive Nymph doe with his swift and naturall course make two turns in visitation of the glistring Images: And thou, O the most noble and obedient Squire that ever had Sword at a Gyrdle, Beard on a Face, or Dent in a Nose, let it not dis∣may or discontent thee, to see carried away before thy eyes the flowre of all Chivalrie Er∣rant. For very speedily, if it please the framer of the World, thou shalt see thy self so ex∣alted and ennobled, as thou shalt scarce know thy self: Nor shalt thou bee defrauded of the promises made unto thee by thy noble Lord: And I doe assure thee from the wise Men∣tironiana, that thy wages shall bee payed thee, as thou shalt quickly see in effect: And therefore follow the steps of the valorous and inchanted Knight; for it is necessary that thou goe to the place where you both shall stay: And because I am not permitted to say more, farewell; for I doe return I well know whither. Towards the end of this Prophecie hee lifted up his voyce, and afterwards lessened it, with so slender an accent, that even those which were acquainted with the jest almost believed what they had heard.

Don-Quixote was very much comforted by the Prophecie; for hee presently appre∣hended the whole sense thereof, and perceived how hee was promised in marriage his beloved Dulcinea of Toboso, from whose happy womb should salley the whelps (which were his Sonnes) to the eternall glory of the Mancha. And believing all this most firmly, hee elevated his voyce, and breathing forth a great sigh, thus said: O thou, what∣soever thou beest, which hast prognosticated so great good to me, I desire thee to request in my name the Wise man who hath charge to record mine acts, that hee permit me not to perish in this Prison (to which they now doe carrie me) before the accomplishment of so joy∣full and incomparable promises, as now have been made unto me: For, so that this may befall, I will account the pains of my Prison a Glory, and the Chains that inviron me, an ease; and will not esteem this Bed whereon I am laid a hard Field of Battell, but a soft Tick and a most fortunate Lodging. And as concerning the consolation of my Squire Sancho Pança, I trust in his goodnesse and honest proceeding, that hee will not abandon me in good or bad fortune: for though it should fall out through his or my hard hap, that I shall not bee able to be slow on him an Island, or other equivalent thing, as I have promised, his Wages at least cannot bee lost; for in my Testament, which is made already, I have set down what hee is to have, though not conformably to his many good Services, yet according to my possibility. Sancho Panca bowed his head with great reverence, and kissed both his hands (for one alone hee could not, by reason they were bound together) and presently those Visions did lift up the Cage and accommodate it on the Team of Oxen.

CHAP. XX.

Wherein is prosecuted the manner of Don-Quixotes inchantment, with other famous occurrences.

WHen Don-Quixote saw himselfe to be incaged after that manner, and placed in the Cart, he said, I have read many and very grave Histories of Knights Errant, but I never read, saw, nor heard, that they were wont to carry Knights Errant inchanted after this manner, and with the leisure that those slothfull and heavy beasts doe threaten: for they were ever accustomed to be carried in the ayr with wonderfull speed, shut in some duskie and obscure cloud; or in some fiery chariot; or on some Hippogriphus, or some other such like beast: but that they carry me now on a Teame of Oxen, I protest it drives me into a great amazment, but perhaps both Chivalry, and the inchantments of these our times, doe follow a course different from those of former ages: and peradventure it may also bee, that as I am a new Knight in the world, and the first that hath againe revived the now-neglected, and forgotten exercise of armes, so have they also newly inven∣ted other kinds of inchantments, and other manners of carrying away inchanted Knights. What doest thou think of this, sonne Sancho? I know not, quoth Sancho, what to think, because I am not so well seen in Scriptures Errant as you are; but for all this I durst affirm and swear, that these visions which goe up aud down in this place, are not altogether Catholike. Catholikes, my father, quoth Don-Quixote, how can they be Catholikes, when they be all Devils, which have assumed phantasticall bodies to come and put me into this state? And if thou wilt prove the truth hereof, doe but touch and feel them, and thou shalt finde them to have no bodies, but of ayre, and that they consist of nothing but an outward appearance. Now by my faith, Sir, quoth Sancho, I have already touched them, and finde this Devill that goeth there so busily up and done, both plump and soft-fleshed; and that he hath besides another property very different from that which I have heard say Devils have: for it is said that they smell all of brimstone and other filthy things; but one may feel at least halfe a league off, the Amber that this Devill smells off. Sancho spoke this of Don Fernando, who belike (as Lords of his ranke are wont) had his attyre perfumed with Amber.

Marvell not thereat, friend Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, for the Devils are very crafty; and although they bring smels or perfumes about them, yet they themselves smell nothing (because they are spirits) or if they doe smell ought, it is not good, but evill and stinking savors: the reason is, for that as they doe alwayes bear where∣soever they be, their hell about them, and can receive no kind of ease of their torments, and good smels be things that delight and please; it is not possible that they can smell any good thing, and if it seeme to thee that that Devill whom thou dost mention smells of Amber, eyther thou art deceived, or hee would deceive thee, by making thee to thinke that hee is no Devill. All these Discourses passed betweene the Master and the man, the whilest Don Fernando and Cardenio (fearing lest Sancho should finde out the deceite whereto hee was already come very heere) resolved to hasten the Knights departure; and therefore calling the Inne-keeper aside, they comman∣ded him to saddle Rozinante, and empannell Sanchoes beast; which hee did with all expedition: And the Curate agreed with the Troopers for so much a day to ac∣companie him unto his Village. Cardenio hanged at the pummell of Rozinantes Saddle, the Target on the one side, and on the other the Bason, and by signes hee commanded Sancho to get up on his Asse, and to leade Rozinante along by the Bri∣dle;

and afterwards placed on either side of the Cart two Troopers with their fire-locks.

But before the Cart departed, the Oastesse, her Daughter, and Maritornes came out to bid Don-Quixote farewell, fayning that they wept for sorrow of his disaster; to whom Don-Quixote said, My good Ladies doe not weepe: for all these mischances are incident to those as professe that which I doe, and if these calamities had not befaln mee, I would never have accounted my selfe for a famous Knight Errant; for the like chan∣ces never happen to Knights of little name or renowne, because there are none in the world that makes any mention of them. But they often befall to the valorous, who have emulators of their Virtue and Valour, both many Princes and many other Knights that strive by indirect meanes to destroy them. But for all that, Virtue is so potent as by her selfe alone (in despight of all the Negromancy that ever the first inventor there∣of Zoroastes knew) shee will come off victorious from every danger, and will shine in the world as the Sunne doth in Heaven. Pardon mee faire Ladies, if by any careles∣nesse I have done you any displeasure, for with my will and knowledge I never wrong∣ed any. And pray unto God for mee, that hee will please to deliver mee out of this prison, whereinto some ill meaning Inchanter hath thrust mee; for if I once may see my selfe at liberty againe, I will never forget the favours which you have done mee in this Castle, but greatly acknowledge and recompence them as they de∣serve. Whilest the Ladies of the Castle were thus intertayned by Don-Quixote, the Curate and Barber tooke leave of Don Fernando and his Companions; of the Captaine and his Brother, and of all the contented Ladies, specially of Dorotea and Luscynda; all of them imbraced and promised to acquaint one another with their succeeding fortunes; Don Fernando intreating the Curate to write unto him what became of Don-Quixote, assuring him that no affaire hee could informe him of should please him better then that, and that hee would in lieu thereof acquaint him with all oc∣currences which hee thought would delight him, eyther concerning his owne Mar∣riage or Zoraidaes Baptisme, or the successe of Don Lewis, and Luscyndaes returne into her House.

The Curate offered willingly to accomplish to a hair all that he had commanded him: and so they returned once again to embrace one another, and to renew their mutuall and complementall offers: The Inkeeper came also to the Curate, and gave him certaine papers, saying, that he had found them within one of the linings of the wallet, wherein the Tale of the curious impertinent was had; and that since the ow∣ner did not return to fetch it, he bade him take them all with him; for feeing he could not read, he would keep them no longer. Master Curate yeelded him many thanks; and then opening them, found in the beginning thereof these words: The Tale of Riconnette and Cortadillo; by which he understood that it was some History, and col∣lected that it must be a good one, seeing that of the curious Impertinent, contrived perhaps by the same Author, had proved so well, and therefore he laid it up, with an intention to read it as soon as he had oportunity. Then he mounted on horse∣back with his friend the Barber; and both of them putting on their maskes, that they might not quickly be known by Don-Quixote, they travelled after the Team, which held on in this order; first went the Cart, guided by the Carter: on both sides thereof the Troupers rode with their fire-locks: then followed Sancho upon his Asse, leading Rozinante by the Bridle; and last of all came the Curate and Barbar upon their mighty Mules, and with their faces covered; all in a grave posture, and with an Alder∣man like pace, and travelling no faster then the slow steps of the heavie Oxen permitted them. Don-Quixote, sate with his hands tyed, his legs stretched out, and leaning a∣gainst the barre of the Cage, with such a silence, and patience, as hee rather seemed a Statue then a Man. In this quiet and leisurely manner, they travelled for the space of two leagues, when ariving to a Valley, it seemed to their Conductor a fit place to re∣pose and baite his Oxen. And acquainting the Curate with his purpose, the Barber was of opinion that they should yet goe on a little further, because hee knew that there lay behinde a little Mountaine, which was within their view, a certaine Vale, much better

furnished with grasse then that wherein hee meant to abide. The Barbers opinion was allowed; and therefore they continued on their Travell, when the Curate looking by chance behinde him, saw comming after them six or seven men on horse-back, and very well appointed, who quickly got ground of them; for they came not the lazie and flegmatick pace of Oxen, but as men that were mounted on Canons Mules, and pricked forward with a desire to passe over the heat of the day in their Inne, which was not much more then a league from thence. Finally, those dilligent Travellers over-took our slothfull ones, and saluted them courteously, and one of them that was a Canon of Toledo, and Master of the rest, noting the orderly procession of the Cart, Troupers, Sancho, Rozinante, the Curate and Barber, but chiefly the incaged Don-Quixote hee could not forbeare to demand what meaned the carriage of that man in so strange a manner, although hee did already conjecture, by observation of the Troupers, that hee was some notable Robber or other Delinquent, the punishment of whom be∣longed to the Holy-Brotherhood. One of the Troupers, to whom the demand was made, did answer in this manner: Sir, wee know not wherefore this Knight is car∣ried in this forme; and therefore let hee himself, who best may, tell you the reason thereof.

Don-Quixote had over heard their discourse, and said, If, Gentlemen, you bee con∣versant and skillfull in matters of Chivalry, I will communicate my misfortunes with you: but if you bee not, I have no reason to trouble my self to recount them. The Curate and Barber seeing the Travellers in talk with Don-Quixote, drew neer to make answer for him in such sort, that their invention might not bee discovered; the whilest the Canon replyed to the Knight, and said; Truely brother I am better acquainted with Books of Knight-hood, then with Villapanda's Logick: and therefore if all the difficultie rest only in that, you may safely communicate whatsoever you will with me. A Gods name bee it, quoth Don-Quixote: You shall therefore nnderstand, Sir Knight, that I am carried away inchanted in this Cage, through the envie and fraud of wicked Magicians; For virtue is much more persecuted of the wicked then honoured of the good. I am a Knight Errant, but none of those whose names are not recorded in the Books of fame; but one of those who in despite of envie it self, and of all the Magicians of Persia, the Bracmanes of India, or of the Gymnosophists of Aethiopia, shall hang his name in the Temple of Eternitie, that it may serve as a Modell and Pattern to ensuing ages; wherein Knights Errant may view the steps which they are to follow, if they mean to aspire to the top and honourable height of Armes. The Knight, Sir Don-Quixote, saith true, quoth the Curate, speaking to the Travellers, that hee is carried away in this Chariot inchanted, not through his own default or sinnes, but through the malignant Treacherie of those to whom Virtue is loathsome and Valour odious: This is, good Sir, the Knight of the sad-Countenance (if you have at any time heard speak of him) whose valorous Acts shall remain insculped in stubborn Brasse, and time-surviving Marble, though Envie and Mallice doe labour never so much to obscure them.

When the Canon heard the imprisoned man and the three speak thus in one tenour, hee was about to blesse himself for wonder, and could not conjecture what had befaln him; and into no lesse admiration were they brought that came with him. But Sancho Panca having in the mean time approached to hear their speech, to plaister up the mat∣ter, added; Now, Sirs, whether you will love me well or ill for what I shall say, the very truth of the matter is, that my Lord Don-Quixote is as much inchanted as my mother, and no more; for his judgement is yet whole and sound; hee eates and drinks, and doth his necessities as other men doe, and as hee himself did yesterday and other dayes before they incaged him; all which being so, how can you make me beleeve that hee goeth inchanted? for I have heard many persons avouch, that inchanted persons neither eat, nor drink, nor speak: and yet my Lord, if hee bee not thwarted, will talk more then twenty Barresters: And then turning towards the Curate, hee said, O Ma∣ster Curate, Master Curate, doe you think that I doe not know you? And think you that I doe not suppose, yea, and presage whereto these new inchantments are addressed?

Well, know then that I know you well, although you cover your face never so much, and that I understand your meaning, how deeply soever you smother your drifts: But in fine, where Emulation and Envie raigns, Virtue cannot live; where pinching swayes, liberalitie goes by. A pox take the Devill; for, but for your Reverence, my Lord had e're this time been wedded to the Princesse Micomicona, and I my self had been cre∣ated an Earl at least; for no lesse might bee expected either from the bountie of my Lord or the greatnesse of my deserts: but now I perceive that to bee true which is commonly said, That the wheel of Fortune turns about more swiftly then that of a Mill; and that they which were yesterday on the top thereof, lie to day all along on the ground. I am chiefly grieved for my Wife and Children; for whereas they ought and might hope to see their Father come in at his gates made a Governour or Vice-Roy of some Isle or Kingdome, they shall now see him return unto them no better then a poor Horse-Boy: All which I have urged so much, Master Curate, only to intimate to your paternitie, how you ought to have remorse and make a scruple of conscience, of treat∣ing my dear Lord as you doe; and look to it well, that God doe not one day demand at your hands, in the other life, amends for the prison whereinto you carrie him, and that you bee not answerable for all the succours and good deeds which hee would have afforded the World in this time of his Captivitie.

Snuffe me those candles, quoth the Barber, hearing him speak so. What Sancho, art thou also of thy Masters confraternity? I swear by the Lord, I begin to see that thou art very like to keep him company in the Cage, and that thou shalt be as deep∣ly inchanted as he, for the portion which thou hast of humour, and Chivalry. Thou wast in an ill hour begotten with child by his promises, and in a worse did the Isle, which thou so greatly longest for sink into thy pate. I am not with child by any body, said San∣cho, nor am I a man of humour to let any body get me with child, no, though it were the King himself: and although I be poor, yet am I a Christian, and owe no∣thing to any one; and if I desire Islands, others there are that desire worse things, and every one is the sonne of his own workes: and under the name of a man, I may become Pope, how much more the Governour of an Island; and chiefly seeing my Lord may gaine so many, as he may want men to bestow them on? and there∣fore, Master Barber you should take heed how you speak; for all consists not in trimming of beards: and there is some difference between Peter and Peter. I say it, because all of us know one another, and no man shall unperceived put a false Die upon me. As concerning my Lords inchantment, God knowes the truth, and there∣fore let it rest as it is, seeing it is the worse for the stirring in. The Barber would not reply unto Sancho, lest that with his simplicities, he should discover what the Curate and himselfe did labour so much to conceale: and the Curate doubting the same, had intreated the Canon to prick on a little forward, and he would unfold to him the mistery of the encaged Knight, with other matters of delight. The Canon did so, and taking his men along with them, was very attentive to all that he rehear∣sed, of the condition, life, madnesse, and fashion of Don-Quixote. There did he briefly acquaint him with the originall cause of his distraction, and all the progresse of his adventures, untill his shutting up in that Cage: and their own designe in car∣rying him home to his Country, to try whether they might by any means finde out a re∣medy for his frenzy. The Canon and his men again admired to hear so strange a History as that of Don-Quixote, and as soon as the Curate had ended his relation, the Ca∣non said:

Verily Master Curate, I doe find by experience, that those Books which are institu∣ted of Chivalry, or Knighthood, are very prejudicicall to wel-governed Common∣wealths: and although borne away by an idle and curious desire) I have read the be∣ginning of almost as many as are imprinted, of that subject, yet could I never indure my selfe to finish and read any one of them thorow: for me thinkes that somewhat more or lesse, they all import one thing, and this hath no more then that, nor the other more then his fellow. And in mine opinion this kinde of writing and invention falls within the compasse of the Fables called Milesid, which are wandring

and idle Tales, whose only scope is delight and not instruction; quite contrarie to the project of those called Fabulae Apologae, which delight and instruct together: And though that the principall end of such Books bee recreation, yet cannot I perceive how they can yeeld it, seeing they bee forced with so many and so proportionlesse untruths: For the delight that the minde conceives, must proceed from the beautie and confor∣mitie which it sees or contemplates in such things as the sight or imagination represents unto it; and all things that are deformed and discordant, must produce the contrary effect. Now then, what beautie can there be; or what proportion between the parts and the whole, or the whole and the parts, in a Book or Fable, wherein a Youth of sixteen yeers of age gives a blow to a Gyant as great as a Jewes, and with that blow divides him in two as easily as if hee were a pellet of Sugar? And when they describe a Battell, after that they have told us how there were at least a million of men on the adverse side, yet if the Knight of the Book bee against them, wee must of force, and whether wee will or no, understand that the said Knight obtained the Victory through the in∣vincible strength of his Arme. what then shall wee say of the facilitie wherewithall the Inheritrix of a Kingdome or Empire falls between the armes of those Errant and un∣known Knights? What understanding, if it bee not altogether barren or barbarous, can delight it self, reading how a great Tower full of Knights doth passe thorow the Sea, as fast as a Ship with the most prosperous winde? And that going to Bed a man is in Lombardie, and the next morning findes himself in Prester Iohn's Countrey, among the Indians, or in some other Region which never was discovered by Ptolomeus, nor seen by Marcus Polus? And if I should bee answered, that the inventers of such Books doe write them as Fables: and therefore are not bound unto any respect of circumstances or observation of truth, I would reply, that an untruth is so much the more pleasing, by how much the neerer it resembles a truth; and so much the more gratefull, by how much the more it is doubtfull and possible: For lying Fables must bee suited unto the Readers understanding; and so written, as that facilitating im∣possible things, levelling untrue things, and holding the minde in suspence, they may ravish a more delight, and entertain such manners, as pleasure and wonder may step by step walk together; all which things hee that writes not likelihoods shall never bee able to perform. And as touching imitation (wherein consists the perfection of that which is written) I have not seen in any Books of Knight-hood an intire bulk of a Fable, so proportioned in all the members thereof, as that the middle may answer the beginning, and the end the beginning and middle: But rather they have composed them of so many members, as it more probably seems, that the Authours intended to frame Chi∣meraes or Monsters then to deliver proportionate figures, most harsh in their stile, in∣credible in exploits, impudent in love matters, absurd in complements, prolixe in Bat∣tels, fond in discourses, uncertain and senselesse in voyages; and finally, devoid of all discretion, art, and ingenious disposition: And therefore they deserve (as most idle and frivolous things) to bee banished out of all Christian Common-wealths.

Master Curate did listen to the Canon with very great attention; and hee seemed unto him to bee a man of good understanding, and that hee had great reason for what hee had alledged: and therefore said, that in respect they did concur in opinions, and that hee had an old grudge to the vanity of such Books, hee had likewise fired all Don-Quixotes Library, consisting of many Books of that subject: And then hee recounted to him the search and inquisition hee had made of them; and which hee had condemned, and which reserved: Whereat the Canon laughed heartily, and said, that notwith∣standing all the evill hee had spoken of such Books, yet did hee finde one good in them, to wit, the subject they offered a good wit to work upon and shew it self in them; for they displayed a large and open plaine, thorow which the Pen might run without let or incumbrances, describing of Ship-wracks, Tempests, Incounters, and Battells; delineating a valorous Captain with all the properties required in him; as wisedome to frustrate the designes of his enemie; eloquence to perswade or disswade his Souldiers; ripenesse in advice; promptnesse in execution; as much valour in attending, as in assaulting of an enemie; deciphering now a lamentable and tragicall successe, then a

joyfull and unexpected event; there a most beautifull, honest, and discreet Ladie, here a valiant courteous and Christian Knight; there an unmeasurable barbarous Braggard, here a gentle, valourous, and wise Prince: Representing the goodnesse and loyaltie of Subjects, the magnificence and bountie of Lords: Sometimes hee may shew himself an Astrologian, sometimes a Cosmographer, sometimes a Musician, sometimes a Statist, and sometimes, if hee please, hee may have occasion to shew himself a Nigromancer: There may hee demonstrate the subtiltie of Vlisses, the pietie of Encas, the valour of Achilles, the misfortune of Hector, the treachery of Sinon, the amitie of Eurialus, the liberallitie of Alexander, the resolution of Caesar, the clemency and truth of Trajanus, the fidelitie of Zopirus, the prudence of Cato; and finally, all those parts that make a worthy man perfect: one whiles by placing them all in one subject; another by di∣stributing them among many; and this being done, and set out in a pleasing stile and a wittie fashion that approacheth as neer as is possible unto the truth, will questionlesse remain a work of many fair draughts, which being accomplished, will represent such beauty and perfection, as shall fully attain to the best end aimed at in all writing, that is, as I have said, joyntly to instruct and delight: for the irregularity and liberality of those Books given to the Authour, the means to shew himself an Epick, Lyrick, Trage∣dian, and Comedian; with all other things which the most gracefull and pleasant Sci∣ences of Poetry and Oratorie include in themselves: for Epicks may bee as well writ∣ten in Prose as in Verse.

CHAP. XXI.

Wherein the Canon prosecutes his Discourse upon Books of Chivalrie, and many other things worthy of his wit.

SIR, you say very true, quoth the Curate; and for this very reason are they which have hitherto invented such Books the more wor∣thy of reprehension, because they neither heeded the good dis∣course, the art, nor the rules, by which they might have guided themselves, and by that means have grown as famous for their Prose as bee the two Princes of the Greek and Latine Poetrie for their Verse. I have for my part, quoth the Canon, at least at∣tempted to write a Book of Chivalrie, observing therein all the points by me mentioned: and in truth I have written above a hundred sheets thereof; and to the end that I might trie whether they were correspondent to my estimation, I did communicate them both with certain skillfull and wise men that are marvellously affected to that subject, and with some ignorant persons that only delight to hear fa∣natic?•••• ••nventions; and I have found in them all a great approbation of my labours; yet would I not for all that prosecute the work, as well because it seemed unfit for my Profession, as also because I finde the number of the ignorant to excede that of the ju∣dicious: And though more good come to a man by the praise of a few wise men, then hurt by the scoffs of a number of fools, yet would I not willingly subject my self to the confused judgement of the senselesse vulgar, who commonly give themselves most un∣to the reading of such Books. But that which most of all rid my hands, yea, and my memorie, of all desire to end it, was this argument, drawn from our modern Comedies, and thus made to my self: If those (as well the Fictions, as Historicall ones) are all or the most part of them notorious Fopperies, and things without either head or foot, and yet are by the vulgar heard with such delight, and held and approved for good: and both the Authours that compose them, and Actors that represent them say, that they must bee such as they bee for to please the Peoples humors, and not more con∣formable

to reason or truth, and that, because those wherein Decorum is observed, and the fable followed according to the rules of Art, serve onely for three or four discreete men (If so many may be found at a Play) which doe attend unto them, and all the rest of the Auditors remaine fasting, by reason they cannot conceive the arti∣ficiall contexture thereof; therefore is it better for them to gaine good money and meanes by many, then bare opinion or applause by a few. The very same would bee the end of my Booke, after I had used all possible industrie to ob∣serve the aforesaid precept; and I should remaine only for a neede, and as the Taylour that dwels in a corner, without trade or estimation.

And although I have sundry times indeavoured to perswade the Players, that their opinion was erronious herein, and that they would attract more people, and acquire greater fame by acting artificiall Comedies, then those irregular, and methodicall Playes then used: yet are they so wedded to their opinion, as no reason can woo, nor demonstration winn them from it. I remember, how dealing upon a day with one of those obstinate fellowes, I said unto him, Doe not you remember, how a few yeers agoe were represented in Spaine three Tragedies, written by a famous Poet of our Kingdome, which were such as delighted, yea and amazed all the auditors, as well the learned as the simple, the exact as the slight ones; and that the Players got more by those three alone, then by thirtie of the best that were penned, or acted since that time? You mean, without question, quoth the Actor answering me, Issabella, Filis, and Alexandra. The very same, quoth I; and note whether in them were not right∣ly observed all the rules and precepts of Art: and yet thereby they neither wanted any part of their dignitie, nor the approbation of all the world. So that I inferr the fault not to be in the vulgar that covets idle toyes, but rather in those which know not how to penn or act any other thing: for no such fond stuffe was in the Comedie of Ingratitude revenged, nor found in Numantia, nor perceived in that of the Amo∣rous Merchant, and much lesse in the Favourable enemy, nor in some others made by judicious Poets, which both redounded to their infinite fame and renowne, and yeel∣ded unto these Actors aboundant gain. To these I added other reasons, wherewith I left him, in mine opinion, somewhat perplexed, but not satisfied, or desirous to for∣goe his erronious opinion.

Truely, Master Canon, quoth the Curate, you have touched a matter that hath rowsed an ancient rancour and heart-burning of mine against the Comedies now in re∣quest; the which is equall to the grudge that I beare to Bookes of Knight-hood. For seeing the Comedie, as Tully affirms, ought to be a mirrour of mans life, a pattern of manners, and an Image of truth: Those that are now exhibited, are mirrours of vanity, patterns of folly, and Images of voluptuousnesse. For what greater absurditie can be in such a subject; then to see a Child come out, in the first Scene, of the first Act, in his swadling Clouts, and issue in the second already grown a man, yea, a bearded man? And what greater vanity, then to present before us a valiant old man, and a yong co∣ward? A Lay man become a Divine? a Page a Councellor? a King a Scoundrell? and a Princesse a Scowre-kettle? What should I say, of the little care had of the due observation of time, for the succeeding of that they represent, other then that I my selfe have seene Comedies, whose first Act began in Europe, the second in Asia, and the third ended in Africa: and truely if there had beene a fourth, it would que∣stionlesse have finished in America, and by consequence wee should have seene a round walk about the four parts of the World. And fayning an exployt performed in the time of King Pepin, or of Charlemaine, they make the principall Actours thereof, eyther Heraclius the Emperour that entred into Hierusalem bearing of the holy Crosse; or Godfrey of Bulloin that recovered the Holy-land; Many yeeres, yea and ages having occurred between the times of the one and the other: yea and the Come∣die being grounded on a fiction, to attribute unto it the verities of a History, and mingle it and patch it up, with peeces of others, having relation to different persons and times; and this with no plausible invention, or draught resembling the truth, but rather with palpable, grosse, and inexcusable errours. And which is worse, some guls

are found to affirme, that all perfection consists herein, and that they are too dainty that look for any other.

Now, if we would passe further, to examine the divine Comedies that treat of God, or the lives of Saints, what a multitude of false miracles do the composers de∣vise? what a bulke of matters Apocryphall, and ill-understood? attributing to one Saint the miracles done by another? yea and in humane Comedies they presume to doe miracles (without farther respect, or consideration, but that such a miracle or shew, as they term it, would doe well in such a place) to the end that the ignorant folk may admire them, and come the more willingly to them: all which doth pre∣judice truth, discredit histories, and turn to the disgrace of our Spanish wits: for stran∣gers, which doe with much punctualitie observe the method of Comedies, hold us to be rude and ignorant, when they see such follies, and absurdities escape us: and it will be no sufficient excuse for this errour, to say, that the principall end of well-governed Commonwealths, in the permitting of comedies, is onely to entertaine the commu∣naltie with some honest pastime, and thereby divert the exorbitant and vicious humors which idlenesse is wont to ingender: and seeing that this end is attained to by what∣soever Comedies good or bad, it were to no purpose to appoint any Laws or limits unto them, or to tye the Composers to frame, or Actors to play them, as they should doe: For hereunto I answer, that this end would without all comparison bee com∣passed better by good Comedies then by evill ones: for the Auditour having heard an artificall and well-ordered Comedie, would come away delighted with the Jests and instructed by the truths thereof, wondring at the successes, grow discreeter by the reasons, warned by the deceits, become wise by others example, incensed against vice, and enamoured of virtue; all which affects a good Comedie should stirr up in the hearers minde, were hee never so grosse or clownish: And it is of all impossibilities the most impossible, that a Comedie consisting of all these parts should not entertain delight, satisfie and content the minde much more then another that should bee de∣fective in any of them, as most of our now-a-day Comedies bee. Nor are the Poets that Pen them chiefly to bee blamed for this abuse; for some of them know very well where the errour lurks, and know also as well how to redresse it. But because that Co∣medies are become a vendible Merchandize, they affirm, and therein tell the plain truth, that the Players would not buy them if they were of any other then the accustomed kinde; and therefore the Poet indeavors to accommodate himself to the humour of the Player, who is to pay him for his labour: And that this is the truth, may bee ga∣thered by an infinite number of Comedies, which a most happie wit of this Kingdome hath composed with such delicacie, so many good Jests, so elegant a Verse, so excellent Reasons, so grave Sentences; and finally, with so much eloquence and such a loftinesse of stile, as hee hath filled the World with his fame; and yet by reason that hee was forced to accommodate himself to the Actors, all of them have not arrived to the height: of perfection which Art requires. Others there are, that write without any judgement, and with so little heed of what they doe, as after their works have been once acted, the Players are constrained to run away and hide themselves, fearing to bee punished, as often they have been for acting things obnoxious to the Prince, or scandalous to some Families.

All which inconveniences might bee redressed if there were some understanding and discreet person ordained at the Court to examine all Comedies before they were Acted, and that not only such as were played at the Court it self, but also all others that were to bee Acted throughout Spain, without whose allowance, under his hand and seal, the Magistrate of no Town should permit any Comedie to bee played: By which means the Players would diligently send their Playes to the Court, and might boldly after∣wards Act them, and the composers would with more care and studie examine their Labours, knowing that they should passe the strict censure of him that could understand them: And by this means would good Comedies bee written, and the thing intended by them most easily attained to, viz. entertainment of the People, the good opinion of Spanish wits, the profit and security of the Players, and the saving of the care that

is now imployed in chastising their rashnesse. And if the same charge were given to this man, or to some other, to examine the Books of Knight-hood which should bee made hereafter, some of them doubtlesse would bee put forth, adorned with that perfection whereof you spoke but now, inriching our language with the pleasing and precious treasure of eloquence, and being an occasion that the old Books would become obscure in the bright presence of those new ones published, for the honest recreation, not only of the idler sort, but also of those that have more serious occupations: For it is not possible for the bow to continue still bent; nor can our humane and fraile nature su∣stain it self long without some help of lawfull recreation.

The Canon and Curate had arrived to this point of their discourse, when the Barber spurring on and overtaking them, said to the Curate, This is the place I lately told you was fit to passe over the heat of the day in, while the Oxen baited amidest the fresh and aboundant Pastures. It likes me very well, quoth the Curate: and tel∣ling the Canon what hee meant to doe, hee also was pleased to remain with them, as well invited by the prospect of a beautifull Valley which offered it self to their view, as also to injoy the Curates conversation, towards whom hee began to bear a marvel∣lous affection: And lastly, with the desires hee had to bee thorowly acquainted with Don-Quixotes Adventures, therefore hee gave order to some of his men, that they should ride to the Inne, which was hard by, and bring from thence what meat they could finde, sufficient to satisfie them all, because hee meant likewise to passe the hot time of the day in that place. To which one of his men did answer, that their sump∣ture Mule was by that time, as hee thought, in the Inne, so copiously furnished with provision of meat, that, as hee supposed, they needed not buy any thing there but barley for their Mules. If it be so, quoth the Canon, let our Mules be carried thither, and the sumpture one returned hither.

Whilest this passed, Sancho being free from the continuall presence of the Curate and Barber, whom hee held as suspected persons, thought it a fit time to speak with his Lord; and therefore drew neer to the Cage wherein he sate, and said to him in this manner: Sir, that I may discharge my conscience, I will reveal unto you all that hath past in this affair of your inchantment; which briefly is, that those two which ride with their faces covered are the Curate of our Village and the Barber, and as I ima∣gine they both are the Plotters of this your kinde of carrying away, for meer emulation that they see you surpasse them both in atchieving of famous Acts: This truth being presupposed, it follows that you are not Inchanted, but beguiled and made a fool: For the proof whereof I will but demand of you one question; and if you doe answer me according to my expectation, as I beleeve you will, you shall feel the deceit with your own hands and perceive how you are not inchanted, but rather have your wits turned upside-down.

Sonne Sancho demand what thou wilt, quoth Don-Quixote, and I will satisfie thee, and answer directly to thy desire: But as touching thy averment, that those which goe along with us, be the Curate and Barber, our Gossips, and old acquaintance; it may well befall that they seem to be such; but that they are so really, and in effect, I would not have thee beleeve in any manner: For that which thou art to believe and shouldest understand in this matter is, that if they bee like those our friends, as thou sayest, it must needs bee that those which have inchanted me, have assumed their semblance and like∣nesse (for it is an easie thing for Magicians to put on any shape they please) thereby to give thee occasion to think that which thou doest, to drive thee into such a Labyrinth of imaginations as thou shalt not afterwards know how to sally out, although thou hadst the assistance of Theseus clew; and withall to make me waver in mine under∣standing, to the end I may not conjecture from whence this charme is derived unto me: for if thou on the one side doest affirm, that the Barber and Curate of our Village doe accompanie me; and I on the other side finde my self incaged, and am so assured of mine own force, that no humane strength, bee it not supernaturall, is able thus to incage me; what wouldest thou have me to say or think, but that the manner of mine inchantment exceeds as many as ever I read throughout all the Histories intreating of

Knights Errant, which have beene inchanted? Wherefore thou maiest very well appease, and quiet thy selfe in that point of beleeving them to be those thou sayest, for they are those, as much as I am a Turke: and as touching thy desire to de∣mand somewhat of me, speake, for I will answer thee, although, thou puttest mee questions untill to morrow morning.

Our Lady assist me, quoth Sancho (as loud as he could) and is it possible that you are so brain-sicke, and hard-headed, as you cannot perceive that I affirme the very pure truth, and that malice hath a greater stroke in this your disgrace and imployment then any inchantments? But seeing it is so, I will proove evidently that you are not in∣chanted: if not, tell me, as God shall deliver you out of this tempest, and as you shall see your self, when you least think of it, in my Lady Dulcinea's armes. Make an end of conjuring me, said Don-Quixote, and aske me what question thou wilt; for I have al∣ready told thee, that I will answer with all punctuality. That is it I demand, quoth Sancho; and the thing I would know, is, that you tell me without adding or diminish∣ing ought, but with all truth used or looked for of all those which professe the exercise of armes as you doe, under the title of Knights Errants. I say, answered Don-Quixote, that I will not lie a jot: make therefore a beginning, or an end of these demands, for in good sooth thou dost weary me with so many salutations, petitions and preventions. Sancho replyed, I say that I am secure of the bounty aud truth of my Lord: and there∣fore, because it makes to the purpose in our affaire, I doe with all respect demand, whether your Worship, since your incagement, and as you imagine, inchantment in that coope, have not had a desire to make greater or lesse water, as men are wont to say? I doe not understand, good Sancho, that phrase of making water: and therefore explicate thy selfe, if thou wouldest have me to answer thee directly. And is it pos∣sible, replied he, that your Worship understands not what it is to make great or little waters? then goe to some schoole, and learn it of the boyes, and know that I would say, Have you had a desire to doe that which cannot be undone? O now, now, I un∣derstand thee, Sancho. Yes, very many times•• yea and even now I have: wherefore, I pray thee, deliver me from the extremity thereof; for I promise thee, I am not alto∣gether so clean as I would be.

CHAP. XXII.

Wherein the discreete discourse that passed betweene Sancho Pan∣ca, and his Lord Don-Quixote, is expressed.

HA, quoth Sancho, have I caught you at last? this is that which I de∣sired to know, as much as my soule or life, come now, Sir and tell me, can you deny that which is wont to be said, when a body is ill disposed, I know not what ayles such a one; for he neither eates nor drinks, nor sleepes, nor answers directly to that which is de∣manded him, so as it seemes that he is inchanted? By which may be collected, that such as neither eat, drink, sleepe, nor doe the other naturall things you wote of, are inchanted: but not those which have a desire as you have, and eate meate, when they get it, and drink drink when it is given them, and answer to all is propounded unto them. Thou sayest true, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote: but I have told the already, that there are divers sorts of inchantments, and perhaps they change with the times from one kinde into another; and that now the inchanted use to doe all that which I do, although they did not so in times past; and therefore there is no disputting, or drawing of conclusions against the customes of the time. I know, and doe verily perswade my self, that I am inchanted, and that is sufficient for the dis∣charge

of my conscience, which would bee gratly burdened if I thought that I were not inchanted, and yet permitted my self to bee borne away in this Cage idly; and like a Coward with-holding the succour I might give to many distressed and needy persons, which even at this hour bee like enough to have extream want of mine aide and assi∣stance. Yet say I, notwithstanding, replyed Sancho, that for more aboundant satis∣faction, your Worship might doe well to attempt the getting out of this prison, the which I doe obliege my self with all my power to facilitate, yea and to get out, and then you may recount eftsoons on the good Rozinante, who also seems inchanted, so sad and melancholy hee goes: And this being done, wee may again assay the fortune of seeking Adventures, which if it have no good successe wee have time enough to return to our Cage; wherein I promise, by the faith of a good and loyall Squire, to shut up my self together with you, if you shall prove so unfortunate, or I so foolish, as not to bring our Designes to a good issue. I am content to doe what thou sayest, brother Sancho, replyed Don-Quixote, and when thou seest oportunitie offered to free me, I will bee ruled by thee in every thing; but yet thou shalt see how far thou art over-wrought in the knowledge thou wilt seem to have of my dis∣grace.

The Knight Errant and the ill errant Squire beguiled the time in these discourses, untill they arrived to the place where the Canon, Curate, and Barber expected them: And then Sancho alighting, and helping to take down the Cage, the Wayn-man un∣yoked his Oxen, permitting them to take the benefit of pasture in that green and plea∣sant Valley, whose Verdure invited not such to enjoy it as were inchanted like Don-Quixote, but rather such heedfull and discreeet persons as was his man, who intreated the Curate to licence his Lord to come out but a little while; for otherwise the Prison would not bee so cleanly as the presence of so Worthie a Knight as his Lord was re∣quired. The Curate understood his meaning, and answered that he would satisfie his requests very willingly, but that hee feared when hee saw himself at libertie, hee would play then some prank or other, and goe whither no body should ever set eye on him after. I will bee his surety that hee shall not flie away, quoth Sancho. And I also, quoth the Canon, if hee will but promise me, as hee is a Knight, that hee will not depart from us without our consent. I give my word that I will not, quoth Don-Quixote (who heard all that they had said) and the rather, because that inchanted bodies have not free will to dispose of themselves as they list; for hee that inchanted them, may make them unable to stir from one place in three dayes; and if they make an escape, hee can compell them to return flying: and therefore, since it was so, they might securely set him at libertie, especially seeing it would redound so much to all their benefits; for if they did not free him, or get further off, hee protested that hee could not forbear to offend their noses. The Canon took his hand (although it were bound) and by his faith and word that hee would not depart, and then they gave him liberty; whereat hee infinitely rejoyced, especially seeing himself out of the Cage. The first thing that hee did after, was to stretch all his bodie, and then hee went towards Rozinante, and striking him twice or thrice on the buttocks, hee said; I hope yet in God and his blessed Mother, O flower and Mirror of Horses, that wee two shall see our selves very soon in that state which our hearts desire; thou with thy Lord on thy back, and I mounted on thee and exercising the function for which God sent me into this World: And saying so, Don-Quixote with his Squire Sancho retired himself somewhat from the com∣panie, and came back soon after a little more lightned, but greatly desiring to execute his Squires Designes.

The Canon beheld him very earnestly, and with admiration wondring to see the strangenesse of his fond humour, and how that hee shewed, in whatsoever hee uttered, a very good understanding, and only left the stirrops (as is said before) when any men∣tion was made of Chivalrie; and therefore moved to compassion, after they were all laid down along upon the grasse, expecting their dinner, hee said unto him, Gentleman, is it possible that the idle and unsavourie Lecture of Books of Knight-hood hath so much distracted your wit, as thus to beleeve that you are carried away inchanted, with

other things of that kinde, as much wide from truth, as untruths can be from verity it self? or how is it possible that any humane understanding can frame it self to beleeve, that in this world there have been such an infinite of Amadises, such a crue of famous Knights, so many Emperours of Trapisonda, such a number of Felixmartes of Hyrca∣nia; so many Palfrayes, Damzels Errant, Serpents, Robbers, Giants, Battailes, un∣heard of adventures, sundry kinds of inchantments, such unmeasureable incounters, such braverie of apparell, such a multitude of enamoured and valiant Princesses, so ma∣ny Squires, Earles, witty Dwarfes, Viragoes, love-Letters, amorous dalliances; and fi∣nally, so many, so unreasonable, and impossible Adventures as are contayned in the bookes of Knighthood.

Thus much I dare avouch of my selfe, that when I reade them, as long as I doe not thinke that they are all but toyes and untruths, they delight mee; but when I ponder seriously what they are, I throw the very best of them against the walls, yea, and would throw them into the fire if they were neere mee, or in my hands, having well deserved that severitie, as false Impostors and Seducers of common sense, as brochers of new Sects and of uncouth courses of life, as those that give occasion to the ignorant vulgar, to beleeve in such exorbitant untruths as are contained in them: Yea, and are withall so presumptuous, as to dare to confound the wits of the most discreete and best descen∣ded Gentlemen; as wee may cleerely perceive by that they have done to your selfe, whom they have brought to such termes, as it is necessarie to shut you up in a Cage and carry you on a Team of Oxen, even as one carries a Lyon or Tygre from place to place, to gayne a living by the shewing of him. Therefore good Sir Don-Quixote, take com∣passion of your selfe, and returne into the bosom of discretion, and learne to imploy the most happy talent of understanding and abundance of wit, wherewith bountifull heaven hath enriched you, yet some other course of stud••e which may redound to the profit of your Soule, and advancement of your credit and estate. And if, borne away by your naturall disposition, you will yet persist in the reading of Warlike and Knightly discourses; Reade in the holy Scripture the Acts of Judges, for there you shall finde surpassing feats and deeds, as true, as valorous. Portugal had a Viriate; Rome a Caesar; Carthage a Hanniball; Greece an Alexander; Castile an Earle; Fe••nun Goncalez; Vàlencia a Cid; Andaluzia a Goncalo Fernandez; Estremaduza a Diego; Garcia de Paredes; Xerez a Garcia Perez de Vargas; Toledo a Garcia Lasso; Si••ill a Do•• Manuel de Leon. The discourses of whose valorous Acts, may Entertayne, Teach, Delight and make Wonder the most sublime Wit that shall reade them. Yea, this were indeede a Studie fit for your sharpe understanding, my deere Sir Don-Qui∣xote, for by this you should become learned in Histories, enamoured of Virtue, instructed in Goodnesse, bettered in Manners, Valiant without Rashnesse, Bold without Cowardice: And all this to Gods Honour, your owne Profit, and Re∣nowne of the Mancha, from whence, as I have learned, you deduce your beginning and Progenie.

Don-Quixote listened with all attention unto the Canons admonition, and per∣ceiving that hee was come to an end of them, after hee had looked upon him a good while he said; Me thinks Gentleman, that the scope of your discourse hath been addrest to perswade me, that there never were any Knights Errant in the world, and that all the bookes of Chivalry are false, lying, hurtfull, and unprofitable to the Common∣wealth, and that I have done ill to reade them, worse to beleeve in them, and worst of all to follow them, by having thus taken on mee the most austere profession of wan∣dring Knighthood, whereof they intreate; denying moreover that there were ever a∣ny Amadises, eyther of Gaule or Greece; or any of all the other Knights, wherewith such bookes are stuffed: All is just as you have said, quoth the Cannon; whereto Don-Quixote replyed thus; You also added, that such bookes had done mee much hurt, seeing they had turned my judgement, and immured mee up in this Cage, and that it were better for mee to make some amendment, and alter my Studie, reading other that are more Authenticall, and delight and instruct much better. It is very true, an∣swered the Canon.

Why then, quoth Don-Quixote, I finde by mine accounts, that the inchanted and senslesse man is your selfe, seeing you have bent your selfe to speake so many blasphe∣mies against a thing so true, so currant, and of such request in the world, as hee that should deny it, as you doe, merits the same punishment, which as you say you give to those bookes, when the reading thereof offends you; for to goe about to make men beleeve that Amadis never lived, nor any other of those Knights wherewith Histories are fully replenished, would bee none other then to perswade them that the Sunne lightens not, the Earth sustaines not, nor the Ice makes any thing cold. See what wit is there in the world so profound, that can induce another to beleeve that the History of Guy of Burgundie, and the Princes Floripes was not true? Nor that of Fierabras, with the Bridg of Mantible, which befell in Charlemaines time, and is I swear, as true, as that it is day at this instant? And if it be a Lie, so must it be also that ever there was an Hector, Achilles, or the War of Troy; The twelve Peeres of France, or King Arthur of Bri∣taine, who goes yet about the world in the shape of a Crow, and is every foote expe∣cted in his Kingdome. And they will as well presume to say, that the History of Gua∣rino Mezquino, and of the quest of the holy Sangriall bee lies; and that for the love be∣tweene Sir Tristram and La Bella Ysonde, and betweene Queene Guenevor and Sir Lan∣celot Dulake, wee have no sufficient authoritie, and yet there bee certaine persons alive, which almost remember that they have seene the Ladie Quintaniona, who was one of the best skinkers of Wine that ever Great Brittaine had; and this is so certaine, as I remem∣ber, that one of my Grand-mothers of my Fathers side, was wont to say unto mee, when shee saw my Matrone, with a long and reverend Kerchief or Vaile; My Boy, that woman resembles very much Lady Quintaniona. From which I argue, that eyther shee knew her her self, or at the least, had seene some Portraiture of hers. Who can moreo∣ver denie the certaintie of the Historie of Peter of Provance, and the beautifull Mago∣lona, seeing that untill this very day one may behold in the Kings Armory, the Pinne wherewith hee guided and turned any way hee listed the horse of wood, whereupon hee rode through the Ayre; which Pinne is a little bigger then the Thill of a Cart; and neere unto it is also seene Babieca his saddle; and in Roncesuals there yet hangs Rowlands horne, which is as big as a very great joyst, whence is inferred, that there were twelve Peeres; that there was a Pierres of Provance; that also there were Cids, and other such Knights as those which the world termes Adventurers: if not, let them also tell mee, that the valiant Lusitanian, Iohn de Melo was no Knight Errant, who went to Burgundie, and in the Citie of Ras fought with the famous Lord of Charni, called Mo∣sen Pierres, and after with Mosen Henry of Ramestan in the Citie of Basilea, and bore away the Victorie in both the conflicts, to his eternall Fame: And that there were no such curres as the Adventures, and single Combats begunne and ended in Burgun∣die, by the valiant Spanyards Pedro Garba, and Guttierre Quixad•• (from whom I my selfe am lineally descended) who overcame the Earle of Saint Paules sonnes. They may also averre unto mee that Don Fernando de Guevarra went not to seeke Adven∣tures in Germanie, where hee fought with Micer George, a Knight of the Duke of Austria his House. Let them likewise affirme, that Suero de Quinonnes of the pas∣sage, his Justs were but Jests; as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Enterprize of Mosen Lewis de falses, a∣gainst Don Goncalo de Guzman, a Gentleman of Castile, with many other renow∣ned Acts, done as well by Christian Knights of this Kingdom, as of other forraign Lands, which are all so authentical & true, as that I am compell'd to reiterate what I said before, which is•••• That whosoever denies them is defective of Reason and good Dis∣course.

Full of admiration remained the good Canon, to heare the composition and medley that Don-Quixote made of truths and fictions together; and at the great notice hee had of all things that might any way cocerne his Knighthood Errant; and therefore he sha∣ped him this answere; I cannot denie, Sir Don-Quixote, but that some part of that which you have said is true, specially touching those Spanish Adventurers of whom you have spoken, and will likewise grant you, that there were twelve Peeres of France, but I will not beleeve that they have accomplished all that which the Archbishop Tur∣pine

pine hath left written of them; for the bare truth of the affair is, that they were certain Noble men chosen out by the Kings of France, whom they called Peers, because they were all equall in Valour, Qualitie and Worth; or if they were not, it was at least pre∣sumed that they were; and they were not much unlike the Militarie orders of Saint Iames or Calatrava, were in request, wherein is presupposed that such as are of the Profession are, or ought to bee valorous and well descended Gentlemen: and as now they say a Knight of Saint Iohn or Alcantara, so in those times they said a Knight of the twelve Peers, because they were twelve equalls chosen to bee of that Military Order. That there was a Cid and a Bernard of Carpio is also doubtlesse; that they have done the Acts recounted of them, I beleeve there is very great cause to doubt. As touching the pin of the good Earl Pierres, and that it is by Babieca his saddle in the Kings Armorie, I confesse that my sin hath made me so ignorant or blinde, that although I have viewed the Saddle very well, yet could I never get a sight of that Pin how great soever you affirm it to be.

Well, it is there without question, quoth Don-Quixote; and for the greater con∣firmation thereof, they say it is laid up in a case of Neats leather to keep it from rusting. That may very well so bee, said the Canon: yet by the orders that I have received, I doe not remember that ever I saw it: and although I should grant it to bee there, yet doe I not therefore oblige my self to believe the Histories of all the Amadises, nor those of the other rabblement of Knights which Books doe mention unto us; nor is it reason that so honourable a man, adorn'd with so many good parts and indowed with such a wit, as you are, should beleeve that so many and so strange follies as are writ∣ten in the raving Books of Chivalraie, can bee true.

CHAP. XXIII.

Of the discreet contention between Don-Quixote and the Canon, with other accidents.

THat were a Jest indeed, quoth Don-Quixote, that Books which are printed with the Kings licence, and approbation of those to whom their examination was commited, and that are read with universall delight and acceptance, and celebrated by great and little, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, Plebeyans and Gentlemen; and finally, by all kinde of persons of what state or condition soever, should bee so lying and fabulous, spe∣cially seeing they have such probability of truth; seeing they describe unto us the Father, Mother, Countrey, Kinsfolk, Age, Town, and Acts of such a Knight or Knights, and that so exactly, point by point, and day by day. Hold your peace, and never speak again such a blasphemie, and beleeve me; for I doe sincerely councell you, what you, as a discreet man, ought to doe herein; and if not, read them but once, and you shall see what delight you shall receive thereby: if not, tell me; what greater pleasure can there bee then to behold (as one would say) even here and before our eyes a great Lake of Pitch boyling-hot, and many Serpents, Snakes, Lizarts, and other kindes of cruell and dreadfull Beasts swimming a thwart it and in every part of it; and that there issues out of the Lake a most lamentable voyce, saying: O thou Knight, whatsoever thou art, which doest behold the fearfull Lake; if thou desirest to obtain the good concealed under these horrid and black waters, show the valour of thy strong brest, and throw thy self into the midest of this sable, and inflamed liquor: for if thou doest not so, thou shall not be worthy to discover the great wonders hidden in the seven Castles of the seven Fates, which are seated under these gloomie waves: And

that scarce hath the Knight heard the fearfull voyce, when without entring into any new discourses, or once considering the danger whereinto hee thrusts himself, yea or easing himself of the weight of his ponderous Armour, but only commending himself unto God, and his Ladie Mistrisse, hee plunges into the midest of that burning puddle, and when hee neither cares nor knows what may befall him, hee findes himself in the midest of flourishing Fields, with which the very Elisean Plains can in no sort bee com∣pared; There it seems to him that the element is more transparent, and that the Sun shines with a cleerer light then in our Orbe: There offers it self to his greedie and curious eye, a most pleasing Forrest replenished with so green and well-spread. Trees, as the verdure thereof both joyes and quickens the sight; whilest the eares are enter∣tained by the harmonious, though artlesse Songs of infinite and enamelled. Birds, which traverse the intricate boughs of that shadie habitation: Here hee discovers a small stream whose fresh waters, resembling liquid Cristall, slides over the small Sands and white little stones, resembling sifted Gold wherein Orientall Pearls are inchaced: There hee discerns an artificiall Fountain wrought of motly Jasper and smooth Marble; and hard by it another rudely and negligently framed, wherein the sundry Cockle-shels with the wreathed white and yellow houses of the Perwinkle and Snail intermingled, and placed after a disorderly manner (having now and then peeces of cleer Cristall and counterfeit Emeralds mingled among them) doe make a work of so gracefull varietie, as Art imitating Nature, doth herein seem to surpasse her.

Suddainly he discovers a strong Castle or goodly Palace, whose walles are of beaten gold, the pinacles of Diamonds, the gates of Iacinths; finally, it is of so ex∣quisite Workemanship, as although the materials whereof it is built, are no worse then Diamonds, Carbuncles, Rubies, Emeralds, Pearles, and Gold, yet is the Archi∣tecture thereof of more estimation and value then they, and is there any more to be seen, after the seeing hereof, then to see sallie out at the Castle gates, a goodly troup of lovely Damzels, whose brave and costly attyre, if I should attempt to describe, as it is laid down in Histories, we should never make an end? and she that seems the chiefest of all, to take presently our bold Knight, that threw himself into the boyling Lake, by the hand, and carry him into the rich Castle or Palace without speaking a word, and cause him to strip himself, as naked, as he was when his Mother bore him, and bathe him in very temperate waters, and afterwards anoint him all over with precious oyntments, and put on him a shirt of most fine, odoriferous, and perfumed Sendall, and then another Damzell to come suddainly, and cast on his back a rich mantle, which they say is wont to be worth, at the very least a rich Citty, yea and more. Then what a sport it is, when they tell us after, that after this he is carried into another Hall, where he finds the tables covered so orderly as he rests amazed? what, to see cast on his hands water distilled all of Amber, and most fragrant flowers? what, to see him seated in a chaire of Ivory? what, to see him served by all the Damzels with marvellous silence? what the setting before him such variety of accares, and those so excellently dressed, as his appetite knowes not to which of them it shall first ad∣dresse his hand? what to hear the Musicke which sounds whilst he is at dinner, with∣out knowing who makes it, or whence it comes? and after that dinner is ended, and the tables taken away, the Knight to remaine leaning on a chaire, and perhaps picking of his teeth, as the custome is, and on a suddaine to enter at the Hall-door another much more beautifull Damzell then any of the former, and to sit by his side, and be∣gin to recount unto him what Castle that is, and how she is inchanted therein, with many other things that amazed the Knight and amazed the Readers. I will not en∣large my self any more in this matter, seeing that you may collect out of that which I have said, that any part that is read of any book of a Knight Errant, will delight, and astonish him, that shall peruse it with attention: and therefore I pray you beleeve me, and as I have said already, reade those kinde of books, and you shall finde, that they will exile all the Melancholy that shall trouble you, and rectifie your disposition, if by fortune it be depraved: for I dare affirme of my self, that since I am become a Knight Errant, I am valiant, courteous, liberall, well-manner'd, generous, gentle, bold,

mild, patient, and indurer of labours, imprisonments, and inchantments: and al∣though it be but so little a while since I was shut up in a Cage like a mad man, yet doe I hope by the valour of mine arme (heaven concurring, and fortune not crossing me) to see my self within a few daies, the King of some Kingdoms, wherein I may shew the bounty and liberality included within my brest. For in good truth, Sir, a poor man is made unable to manifest the virtue of liberality toward any other, al∣though he virtually possesse it himself in a most eminent degree: and the will to gra∣tifie, which onely consists of will, is a dead thing, as Faith without Works. For which cause I doe wish, that fortune would quickly present me some occasion whereby I might make my self an Emperour; that I may discover the desire I have to doe good unto my friends, but especially to this my poor Squire, Sancho Panca, who is one of the honestest men in the world, on whom I would faine bestow the Earledome which I promised him many daies past, but that I fear me he will not be able to governe his estate.

Sancho overhearing those last words of his Masters, said Labour you, Sir Don-Quixote, to get me that Earledome as often promised by you, as much longed for by me, and I promise you that I will not want sufficiency to governe it; and though I should, yet have I heard say, that there are men in the world, who take Lordships to farme paying the Lord so much by the yeer, and undertaking the care of the go∣vernment thereof, whilst the Lord himself with outstretched legs doth live at his ease; enjoying the rents they bring him, and caring for nothing else: and so will I do, and will not stand wracking it to the utmost, but presently desist from all administration and live merily upon my Rent, like a young Duke; and so let the World wag and goe how it will. That, friend Sancho, is to bee understood, quoth the Canon, of enjoying the Revenues; but as concerning the administration of Justice, the Lord of the Seig∣niory is bound to look to it; in that is required a sufficiencie and abilitie to govern, and above all, a good intention to deal justly, and determine rightly; for if this bee wanting when wee begin, our means and ends will alwaies bee subject to errour: And therefore is God wont as well to further the good Designes of the simple, as to disfavour the bad ones of those that be wittily wicked.

I understand not those Philosophies, quoth Sancho Panca; but this I know well, that I would I had as speedily the Earldome, as I could tell how to govern it; for I have as much Soul as another, and as much Body as hee that hath most; and I would bee as absolute a King in my estate, as any one would bee in his; and being such, I would doe what I liked; and doing what I liked, I would take my pleasure; and taking my pleasure, I would bee content; and when one is content, hee hath no more to desire; and having no more to desire, the matter were ended: and then come the state when it will, or farewell it, and let us behold our selves, as one blinde man said to another. They are no bad Philosophies which thou comest out with, kinde Sancho, quoth the Canon; but yet for all that there is much to bee said concerning this matter of Earldomes. To that Don-Quixote replyed, I know not what more may bee said, only I govern my self by the example of Amadis de Gaule, who made his Squire Earl of the firm Island; and therefore I may without scruple of conscience make Sancho Panca an Earl; for hee is one of the best Squires that ever Knight Errant had. The Canon abode amazed at the well compacted and orderly ravings of Don-Quixote; at the manner wherewith hee had deciphred the Adventure of the Knight of the Lake; at the impression which his lying Books had made into him: and finally hee wondred at the simplicity of Sancho Panca, who so earnestly desired to bee made Earl of the County his Lord had promised him.

By this time the Canons Serving-men, which had gone to the Inne for the sumpture Mule, were returned, and making their Table of a Carpet and of the green grasse of that Meddow, they sate down under the shadow of the Trees and did eate there, to the end that the Wain-man might not lose the commoditie of the Pasture, as wee have said before; And as they sate at dinner, they suddainly heard the sound of a little Bell issuing from among the Bryers and Brambles that were at hand; and instantly after they saw

come out of the Thicket a very fair shee-Goate, whose hide was powdred all over with black, white & brown spots: after her followed a Goat-heard crying unto her, and in his language, bidding her stay or return to the Fold; but the fugitive Goat, all affrighted and fearfull, ran towards the companie, and as it were seeking in her dumbe manner to bee protected, strayed neer unto them: Then did the Goat-heard arive; and laying hold of her hornes (as if shee had been capable of his reprehension) said unto her; O yee wanton Ape, yee spotted Elfe; how come yee to halt with me of late dayes? What Wolves doe skarre your daughter? Will you not tell me, fair, what the matter is? But what can it be other then that you are a female, and therefore can never bee quiet? A foul evill take your conditions, and all theirs whom you so much resemble: Turn back, love, turn back, and though you bee not so content withall, yet shall you at least bee more safe in your own Fold, and among the rest of your fellows: for if you that should guide and direct them, goe thus distracted and wandring, what then must they doe? what will become of them?

The Goat-heards words did not a little delight the hearers, but principally the Ca∣non, who said unto him, I pray thee, good fellow, take thy rest heere a while, and doe not hasten that Goat so much to her Fold for seeing she is a female, as thou sayest, she will follow her naturall instinct, how much soever thou opposest thy selfe unto it: take therefore that bit, and drink a draught wherewithall thou maiest temper thy choller, and the Goate will rest her the whilst: and saying so, he gave him the hinder quarter of a cold Rabbet: which he receiving, rendered him many thanks and drinking a draught of wine, did pacifie himself, and said presently after, I would not have you, my Masters, account me simple, although I spoke to this beast in so earnest a fashion; for in truth the words which I used unto her, were not without some mistery, I am indeed rustick, and yet not so much, but that I know how to converse with men, and with beasts. I beleeve that easily, quoth the Curate, for I know already by experience, that the woods breed learned men, and sheep-coats containe Philosophers. At the least, Sir, replyed the Goat-heard, they have among them experienced men: and that you may give the more credit to this truth, and as it were, touch it with your owne hands, (although till I be ••idden, I may seeme to invite my self) I will, if you please to hear me but a while, relate unto you a very true accident, which shall make good what this Gentleman (pointing to the Curate) and my self have affirmed. To this Don-Quixote answered, Because the case doth seem to have in it some shadow of Knightly adventures, I will for my part listen unto thee with a very good will, and I presume that all these Gentlemen will doe the like, so great is their discretion, and desire to know curious novelty which amaze, delight, and entertain the senses, as I doe certainly beleeve thy history will. Therefore begin it, friend, and all of us will lend our eares unto it. I except mine, quoth Sancho; for I will goe with this Pastie unto that little streame, where I mean to fill my self for three daies; for I have heard my Lord Don-Quixote say, that a Knight Errants Squire must eate when he can, and alwaies as much as he can, because that oftentimes they enter by chance into some, wood so intricate, as they cannot get out of it again in five or six daies: and if a mans panch be not then well stuffed, or his wallet well stored, he may there remaine, and be turned, as many times it happens, into mummy. Thou art in the right of it, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote: goe therefore where thou wilt, and eate what thou maiest; for I am already satisfied, and only want refection for my minde, which now I will give it by listening to this good fellow. The same will we also give unto ours, quoth the Canon, who therewithall intreated the Goat-heard to keepe pro∣mise, and begin his ••ale. Then he stroking once or twice his pretty Goat, (which he yet held fast by the horns) said thus, Lie down, pide fool, by me, for we shall have time enough to return home againe. It seemed that the Goat understood him; for as soone as her Master sate, downe, shee quietly stretched her self along by him, and looking him in the face, did give to understand, that shee was attentive to what he was saying; And then he began his history in this manner.

CHAP. XXIV.

Relating that which the Goat-heard told to those that carried away Don-Quixote.

THere is a Village distant some three leagues from this Valley, which al∣beit it bee little, is one of the richest of this Commark: Therein some∣time did dwell a wealthie Farmer of good respect, and so good, as although Reputation and Riches are commonly joyned together, yet that which hee had was rather got him by his Virtue, then by any Wealth hee possessed: But that which did most accumulate his hap∣pinesse (as hee himself was wont to say) was, that hee had a Daughter of so accom∣plished Beauty, so rare Discretion, Comelinesse, and Virtue, that as many as knew and beheld her, admired to see the passing indowments wherewith Heaven and Nature had inriched her. Being a child shee was fair, and increasing dayly in feature; shee was at the age of sixteen most beautifull: the fame whereof extended it self over all the bor∣dering Villages: But why say•• I the bordering Villages alone if it spread it self over the farthest Cities yea, and entred into the Kings Pallace, and into the cares of all kinde of People; so that they came from all parts to behold her as a rare thing, and patterne of miracles? Her father did carefully keep her, and shee likewise heeded her self; for their is neither Guard, Lock nor Bolt able to keep a Mayden better then is her own warinesse and care: The Wealth of the Father and Worth of the Daughter moved divers, as well of his own Village as Strangers, to demand her to wife; but hee (as one whom the disposall of so rich a Jewell most neerly concerned) was much perplexed, and unable to determine on whom, among such an infinite number of importunate Wooers, hee might bestow her: Among others that bore this good will towards her, I my self was one to whom they gave many and very great hopes of good successe, the knowledg that her Father had of me, my birth in the same village, my descent honest, and blood untainted, flourishing in years, very rich in goods, and no lesse in gifts of the minde. Another of the same Village and Qualities was also a Suiter unto her; which was an occasion to hold her in suspence, and put his will in the ballance, deeming, as hee did, that shee might be bestowed on either of us two: and that hee might bee rid of that doubt, hee resolved to tell it to Leandra (for so doe they call the rich Maid which hath brought me to extream misery) noting discreetly, that seeing wee both were equall••, it would not bee amisse to leave in his dear Daughters power the making choyce of whether shee liked-best; A thing worthy to bee noted by all those Parents that would have their Children marry: Wherein my meaning is not that they should per∣mit them to make a bad or base choyce; but that they propound certain good ones, and refer to their liking which of them they will take. I know not what was the liking of Leandra, but only know this, That the Father posted us off, by alledging the over∣green yeers of his Daughter, and using generall terms which neither obliged him nor discharged us. My rivall was called Anselmo, and my self Eugenio: that you may also have some justice of the persons which were Actors in this Tragedie, whose con∣clusion is yet depending, but threatens much future disaster.

About the very same time there arrived to our Village one Vincente of the Rose, son to a poor labourer of the same place, which Vincente returned as then from I••••ly and divers other Countries wherein hee had been a Souldier; for being of some twelve yeers of age a certain Captain, that with his Companie passed along by our Village, did carry him away with him, and the Youth, after a doozen yeers more, came back again attired like a Souldier, and painted with a hundred colours, full of a thousand devices of Cristall, five steel chains: To day he would put on some gay thing, the next day

some other, but all of them slight painted, and of little weight, lesse worth. The clown∣ish people which are naturally malicious, and if they have but ever so little idlenesse or leisure, become malice it self, did note and reckon up all his braveries and Jewels, and found that he had but three suits of apparell of different colours, with garters and stockings answerable to them; but hee used so many disguisements, varieties, trans∣formations and inventions, which they, as if they had not counted them all, some one would have sworn that hee had made shew of more then ten suits of apparell, and more then twentie plumes of feathers: and let not that which I tell you of the appa∣rell bee counted impertinent, or from the matter; for it makes a principall part in the History. Hee would sit on a bench that stood under a great Poplar Tree in the midst of the Market place, and there would hold us all with gaping mouthes, listening to the gallant Adventures and resolute Acts he recounted unto us: There was no Land in all the World whose soile hee had not trodden on, no Battell wherein hee had not been present; hee had slain more Moors then the Kingdomes of Morocco and Tuney contained, and undertaken more single Combats, as hee said, then ever did either Gant, Luna, or Diego Garcia de Paredes, and a thousand others whom hee named; and yet he still came away with the victory, without having ever left one drop of blood. On the other side hee would shew us signes of wounds, which although they could not be discerned, yet would hee perswade us that they were the marks of bullets which hee received in divers Skermishes and Warrs. Finally, hee would thou his equalls, and those which knew him very well, with marvellous arrogancie; and said that his Arme was his Father, his works his Linage, and that beside his being a Souldier hee ought not a whit to the King: To these his arrogancies was annext some superficiall skill in Mu∣sick, for hee could scratch a little on a Gyttern, and some would say that hee made it speak: but his many graces made not a stop there; for hee had likewise some sha∣dows of Poetry, and so would make a Ballad of a league and a half long upon every toy that hapned in the Village.

This Souldier therefore whom I have deciphred, this Vincente of the Rose, this Brag∣gard, this Musician, this Poet, eyed and beheld many times by Leandra from a certain window of her house that looked into the Market-place; and the golden shew of his Attire enamoured her, and his Ditties inchanted her; for hee would give twenty Copies of every one hee composed: The report of his worthy acts, beautified by him∣self, came also unto her eares; and finally (for so it is likely the Divill had ordered the matter) shee became in Love with him before hee presumed to think once of solliciting her. And, as in Love adventures, no one is accomplished with more facilitie then that which is favoured by the womans desire; Leandra and Vincente made a short and easie agreement: and e're any one of her Suiters could once suspect her desires, shee had fully satisfied them, abandoned her deer and loving Fathers house (for her Mother lives not) and running away from the Village with the Souldier, who departed with more Triumph from that Enterprise then from all the others which hee had arrogated to himself. The accident amazed all the Town; yea, and all those to whom the ru∣mour thereof arrived were astonished, Anselmo amazed, her Father sorrowfull, her Kinsfolk ashamed. The ministers of Justice carefull, and the Troupers ready to make pursuit; all the wayes were laid, and the Woods, and every other place neerly search∣ed; and at the end of three dayes they found the lustfull Leandra hidden in a Cave within a Wood, naked in her smock, and despoyled of a great summe of Money, and many precious Jewels which shee had brought away with her: They returned her to her dolefull Fathers presence, where asking how shee became so dispoyled, she pre∣sently confessed, that Vincent of the Rose had deceived her: for having passed his word to make her his Wife, hee perswaded her to leave her Fathers house, and made her be∣leeve that hee would carrie her to the richest and most delightfull Citie of the World, which was Naples: And that shee through indiscretion and his fraud, had given credit to his words, and robbing her Father, stole away with him the very same night that shee was missed; and that hee carried her to a very rough Thicket, and shut her up in that Cave wherein they found her: She also recounted how the Souldier, without touch∣ing

her honour, had rob'd her of all that shee carried, and leaving her in that Cave, was fled away; which successe strook us into greater admiration then all the rest; for wee could hardly bee induced to beleeve the young gallants continencie; but shee did so earnestly protest it, as it did not a little comfort her comfortlesse Father, who made no reckoning of the Riches hee had lost, seeing his Daughter had yet reserved that Jewell, which being once gone, could never again bee recovered. The same day that Leandra appeared, shee also vanished out of our sights, being conveighed away by her Father, and shut up in a Nunnerie at a certain Town not farre off, hoping that time would obliterate some part of the bad opinion already conceived of his Daughters facilitie. Leandra her youth served to excuse her errour, at least with those which gained nothing by her beeing good or ill; but such as knew her discretion and great wit, did not attribute her sinne to ignorance, but rather to her too much lightnesse, and the naturall infirmitie of that Sexe, which for the most part is inconsiderate and slipperie. Leandra being shut up, Anselmo's eyes lost their light, or at least beheld not any thing that could delight them: and mine remained in darknesse without light that could addresse them to any pleasing object in Leandra's absence. Our griefs increased; our patience diminished; wee cursed the Souldiers Ornaments; and abhord her Fathers want of looking to her: To bee brief, Anselmo and my self resolved to abandon the Village and come to this Valley, where hee feeding a great flock of Sheep of his own, and I as copious a Heard of Goats of mine, wee passe our lives among these Trees, giving vent to our passions, either by singing together the beautifull Leandra's praises or dispraises; or by sighing alone, and alone communicating our quarrelsome complaints with Hea∣ven. Many others of Leandra's Suitors have since, by our example, come to these in∣tricate Woods, where they use our very exercise; and they are so many, as it seems that this place is converted into the Pastorall Arcadia; it is full of Sheepheards and Sheep-Folds; and there is no one part thereof wherein the name of the beautifull Leandra resoundeth not: There one doth curse her, and termeth her humours, inconstant and dishonest: another condemns her of being so facile and light: some one absolves and pardons her: another condemns and despises her, and celebrates her beautie: another execrates her disposition: and finally, all blame, but yet adore her; and the raving distraction of them all doth so farre extend it self, as some one complains of disdain that never spoke word unto her: and some one laments and feels the inraged fits of jea∣lousie, though shee never ministred any occasion thereof; for, as I have said, her sinne was known before her desires: There is no Clift of a Rock, no Bank of a Stream, nor Shadow of a Tree without some Sheepheard or other, that breaths out his misfortunes to the silent air. The Eccho repeats Leandra's name, wheresoever it can be formed: The Woods resound Leandra: The Brooks doe murmur Leandra: and Leandra holds us all perplexed and inchanted, hoping without hope, and fearing without knowledge what wee fear.

And among all this Flock of frantick men, none shews more or lesse judgement then my companion Anselmo, who having so many other Titles under which hee might plain him, only complains of absence, and doth to the sound of a Rebeck (which hee handles admirably well) sing certain dolefull Verses, which fully discover the excellen∣cie of his conceit. I follow a more easie, and (in mine opinion) a more certain way, to wit, I rayle on the lightnesse of Women, on their inconstancie, double dealing, dead promises, crack'd trust, and the small discretion they shew in placing of their affections; and this, Sir, was the occasion of the words and reasons I lately used to this Goat, whom I doe esteem but little, because shee is a female, although shee bee otherwise the best of all my Heard. And this is the Historie which I promised to tell you, wherein if I have been prolixe, I will bee altogether as large in doing you any service; for I have here at hand my Cabine, and therein store of fresh Milk, and savory Cheese, with many sorts of excellent Fruit, no lesse agreeable to the sight then pleasing to the taste.

CHAP. XXV.

Of the falling out of Don-Quixote and the Goat-heard: with the adventure of the disciplinants, to which the Knight gave end to his cost.

THe Goat-heards tale bred a generall delight in all the hearers, but specially in the Canon, who did very exactly note the manner wherewithall he delivered it, as different from the stile or discourse of a rude Goat-heard, as approaching to the discretion of a perfect Courtier; and therefore he said, that the Curate had spoken very judiciously, in affirming that the woods bred Learned men: all of them made boun∣tifull tenders of their friendship and service to Engenio, but he that enlarged himself more then the rest, was Don-Qui∣xote, who said unto him, Certes, friend Goat-heard, if I were at this time able to undertake any adventure, I would presently set forward, and fall in hand with it to doe you a good turn, and I would take Leandra out of the Monastery (wherein without doubt she is restrained against her will) in despight of the Lady Abbesse, and all those that should take her part; and would put her into your hands, to the end you might dispose of her at your pleasure, yet still observing the Lawes of Knight-hood which command, that no man doe any wrong, and offer violence unto a Damzell: yet I hope in our Lord God, that the skill of a malicious inchanter shall not be of such force, but that the science of a better meaning wizard shall prevaile against him; and whensoever that shall befall, I doe promise you my helpe and favour, as I am bound by my profession, which cheifly consists in asisting the weak and distressed.

The Goat-heard beheld him, and seeing the Knight so ill arrayed, and of so evil-favoured a countenance, he wondred, and questioned the Barber, who sate neere to him, thus: I pray you, Sir, who is this man, of so strange a figure, and that speaks so odly? Who else should he be, answered ehe Barber, but the famous Don-Quixote of the Mancha, the righter of wrongs, the redresser of injuries, the protector of Dam∣zels, the affrighter of Giants, and the overcommer of battels? That which you say of this man, answered the Goat-heard, is very like that which in Books of Chivalry is written of Knights Errant; who did all those things which you apply to this man: and yet I beleeve that either you jest, or else that this Gentlemans head is voyde of braines.

Thou art a great villaine, said Don-Quixote, and thou art he whose pate wants braines; for mine is fuller then the very, very whores that bore thee; and saying so, and snatching up a loaf of bread that stood by him, he raught the Goat-heard so furious a blow withall, as it beat his nose flat to his face: but the other, who was not acquainted with such jests, and saw how ill he was handled, without having respect to the Carpet, Napkins, or those that were eating, he leaped upon Don-Quixote, and taking hold of his coller with both the hands, would certainly have strangled him, if Sancho Panca had not arrived at that very instant, and taking him fast behind, had not thrown him backe on the Table, crushing dishes, breaking glasses, and shed∣ding, and overthrowing all that did lie upon it. Don-Quixote seeing himself free, returned to get upon the Goat-heard, who all besmeared with blood, and trampled to peeces under Sancho's feet, groped here and there groveling as he was for some knif or other, to take a bloody revenge withall, but the Canon and Curate prevented his purpose; and yet, by the Barbers assistance, he got under him Don-Quixote, on whom he rained such a showre of buffets, as he powred as much blood from the poor

Knights face, as had done from his owne. The Canon and Curate were ready to burst for laughter: the Troupers danced for sport; every one hissed, as men use to doe when Dogs fall out, and quarrell together: onely Sancho Panca was wood, be∣cause he could not get from one of the Canons Serving-men, who withheld him from going to helpe his Master. In conclusion, all being very merry, save the two Buffetants, that tugged one another extremely, they heard the sound of a Trumpet, so dolefull, as it made them turne their faces towards that part from whence it seemed to come. But hee that was most troubled at the noyse thereof, was Don-Quixote, who although hee was under the Goatheard full sore against his Will, and by him exceedingly bruised and battered, yet said unto him; Brother Devill (for it is impossible that thou canst bee any other, seeing that thou hast had valour and strength to subject my forces) I pray the let us make truce for one only houre; for the dolorous sound of that Trumpet which toucheth our Eares, doth (mee thinks) invite mee to some new Adventure. The Goateheard, who was weary of buffeting, and being beaten, left him off inconti∣nently, and Don-Quixote stood up, and turned himselfe towards the place from whence he imagined the noyse to proceede, and presently hee espyed descending from a certaine height many men apparelled in white like disciplinants. The matter in∣deed was, that the clowds had that yeer denied to bestow their deaw on the Earth, and therefore they did institute Rogations, Processions, and Disciplines, throughout all that Countrey, to desire Almighty God to open the hands of his Mercy, and to be∣stowe some Rain upon them. And to this effect, the People of a Village, neere unto that place, came in Procession to a devout Eremitage, builded upon one of the Hills that invironed that Valley.

Don-Quixote noting the strange attyre of the Disciplinants, without any calling to memorie how hee had often seen the like before, did forthwith imagine that it was some new Adventure, and that the tryall thereof only appertayned to him, as to a Knight Errant; and this his presumption was fortified the more, by beleeving that an Image which they carried all covered over with black, was some principall Lady whom those miscreants and discourteous Knights did beare away perforce. And assoone as this fell into his braine, hee leaped lightly towards Rozinante, that went feeding up and downe the Plaines, and dismounting from his pummell the bridle, and his Target that hanged thereat, hee bridled him in a trice; and taking his Sword from Sancho, got instantly upon his horse, and then imbracing his Target, said in a loud voice to all those that were present: You shall now see, O valorous company; how important a thing it is, to have in the world such Knights as professe the order of Chivalrie errant. Now I say, you shall discerne by the freeing of that good Ladie, who is there caryed Captive a∣way, whether Knights Adventurous are to bee held in prize; and saying so, hee struck Rozinante with his heeles (for spurres hee had none) and making him to gallop (for it is not read in any part of this true Historie, that Rozinante did ever passe one formall or full careere) hee posted to encounter the Disciplinants, although the Curate, Canon and Barber did what they might to withhold him, but all was not possible, and much lesse could hee bee deteined by these outcryes of Sancho, saying whither doe you goe, Sir Don-Quixote? What Devills doe you beare in your Breast, that incite you to run thus against the Catholique Faith? See Sir, unfortunate that I am, how that is a Pro∣cession of Disciplinants, and that the Lady whom they beare, is the blessed Image of the immaculate Virgin: Looke Sir what you doe, for at this time it may well bee said, that you are not you know what. But Sancho laboured in vaine; for his Lord rode with so greedie a desire to encounter the white men, and deliver the moorning Lady, as he heard not a word, and although hee had, yet would hee not then have returned back at the Kings commandement. Being come at last, neere to the Procession, and stopping Ro∣zinante (who had already a great desire to rest himselfe a while) hee said with a trou∣bled and hoarse voice; O you that cover your faces, perhaps because you are not good men, give eare and listen to what I shall say. The first that stood at this alarm, were those which carried the Image; and one of the foure Priests which sung the Letanies, beholding the strange shape of Don-Quixote, the leanenesse of Rozinante, and other

circumstances worthy of laughter, which hee noted in our Knight, returned him quick∣ly this answere; Good Sir, if you would say any thing to us, say it instantly, for these honest men, as you see, are toyled extremely, and therefore wee cannot, nor is it rea∣son wee should stand lingring to heare any thing, if it bee not so briefe as it may bee de∣livered in two words; I will say it in one, said Don-Quixote, and it is this; That you doe forthwith give liberty to that beautifull Lady, whose teeres and pittifull semblanco cleerely denote that you carry her away against her. Will, and have done her some nota∣ble injury; and I, who was born to right such wrongs, will not permit her to passe one step forward, untill she be wholly possessed of the freedom she doth so much desire and deserve. All those that overheard Don-Quixote, gathered by his words that he was some distracted man, and therefore began to laugh very heartily, which laughing seemed to add gun-powder to his choler; for laying his hand on his Sword, without any more words, he presently assaulted the Image-carriers; one whereof, leaving the charge of the burthen to his fellowes, came out to encounter the Knight with a wooden forke (whereon he supported the Beere whensoever they made a stand) and receiving upon it a great blow which Don-Quixote discharged at him, it parted the Forke in two; and yet hee with the peece that remained in his hand, returned the Knight such a thwack up∣on the shoulder, on the Sword side, as his Target not being able to make resistance a∣gainst that rusticall Force, poore Don-Quixote was overthrowne to the ground, and ex∣tremely bruised.

Sancho Panca (who had followed him puffing and blowing as fast as hee could) seeing him overthrown, cried to his adversarie that hee should strike no more; for hee was a poor inchanted Knight that had never all the dayes of his life done any man harme; but that which detained the Swain was not Sancho's out-cries, but to see that Don-Quixote stirred neither hand nor foot; and therefore beleeving that hee had slain him, hee tucked up his Coat to his girdle as soon as hee could, and fled away thorow the Fields like a Deer. In the mean while Don-Quixotes Companions did hasten to the place where hee lay, when those of the Procession seeing them (but principally the Troopers of the Holy-Brotherhood with their Cross-hows) runne towards them, did fear some disastrous successe; and therefore they gathered together in a troop about the Image, and lifting up their hoods, and laying fast hold on their Whips, and the Priests on their Tapers, they attended the assault, with resolution both to defend them∣selves, and offend the assaylants if they might: But Fortune disposed the matter bet∣ter then they expected; for Sancho did nothing else then throw himself on his Lords Body, making over him the most dolorous and ridiculous lamentation of the world, and beleeving that hee was dead. The Curate was known by the other Curate that came in the procession; and their acquaintance appeased the conceived fear of the two squadrons: The first Curate, in two words, told the other what Don-Quixote was; and therefore hee, and all the crue of the Disciplinants went over to see whe∣ther the poor Knight were dead or alive; and then might heare Sancho Panca with the tears in his eyes, bewayling him in this manner: O flowre of Chivalrie who hast with one blow alone ended the Career of thy so well bestowed Peers! O renown of this linage, the honour and glorie of all the Mancha! yea, and of all the world be∣side! which seeing it wanteth thee, shall remain full of miscreants, secure from being punished for their misdeeds! O liberall beyond all Alexanders, seeing thou hast given me only for eight moneths service, the best Island that the Sea doth compasse or ingyrt! O humble to the proud, and stately to humbled, undertaker of perills, in∣durer of affronts, enamoured without cause, imitater of good men, whip of the evill, enemie of the wicked, and in conclusion Knight Errant, then which no greater thing may be said!

Don-Quixote was called again to himself by Sancho his out-cries, and then the first word that ever hee spake was: Hee that lives absented from thee, most sweet Dulcinea, is subject to greater miseries then this: Help me, friend Sancho, to get up into the in∣chanted Chariot again; for I am not in plight to oppresse Rozinantes Saddle, having this shoulder broken all into peeces. That I will doe with a very good will, my deer Lord,

replyed the Squire; and let us return to my Village, with those Gentlemen, which desire your welfare so much; and there wee will take order for some other voyage, which may bee more profitable and famous then this hath been. Thou speakest reasonable Sancho quoth Don-Quixote; and it will be a great wisdome to let over passe the crosse aspect of those Planets that raig••e at this present. The Canon, Curate and Barber commended his resolution: and so having taken delight enough in Sancho Panca's simplicitie, they planed Don-Quixote, as before, in the Team, The Processioners re∣turning into their former order, did prosecute their way: The Goat-heard took leave of them all: The Troopers would not ride any farther; and therefore the Curate satisfied them for the pains they had taken. The Canon intreated the Curate to let him understand all that succeeded of Don-Quixote, to wit, whether hee amended of his frenzie or grew more distracted; and then hee took leave to continue his Journey. Lastly, all of them departed, the Curate, Barber, Don-Quixote, Sancho Panca; and the good Rozinante only remaining behinde: Then the Wa•• man yoked his Oxen, and accommodated the Knight on a Bottle of Hay•• and afterwards followed on in his wonted slow manner, that way which the Curate directed. At the end of two dayes they arrived to Don-Quixotes Village, into which they entred about noon: this befell on a Sunday, when all the People were in the Market stead, thorow the middle whereof Don-Quixotes Cart did passe: all of them drew neer to see what came in it, and when they knew their Countrey man they were marvellously astonished: the whilest a little Boy ran home before, to tell the old Wife and the Knights Niece, that their Lord and Uncle was returned very lean, pale, disfigured, and stretcht all along on a bundle of Hay.

It would have moved one to compassion, to have heard the lamentations and out∣cries then rais'd by the two good Women, the blows they gave themselves, and the curses and exe••rations which they powred out against all Books of Knighthood; all which was again renewed, when they saw Don-Quixote himself entred in at their doors. At the news of this his arrivall Sancho Panca's Wife repaired also to get some tydings of her goodman; for she had learned that he was gone away with the Knight, to serve him as his Squire, and as soon as ever she saw her Husband, the question she asked him was, whether the Asse were in health or no? Sancho, answered that he was come in better health then his Master. God be thanked, quoth she, who hath done me so great a favour: but tell me now, friend, What profit hast thou reaped by this thy Squireship? What Peticoat hast thou brought me home? What Shoos for thy little Boyes? I bring none of these things, good wife, quoth Sancho, although I bring o∣ther things of more moment and estimation. I am very glad of that, quoth his Wife, shew me those things of more moment and estimation, good friend: for I would sayne see them, to the end that this heart of mine may be cheered, which hath been so swolne and sorrowfull, all the time of thine absence. Thou shalt see them at home, quoth Sancho, and therefore rest satisfied for this time; for and it please God, that we travaile once againe to seek Adventures, thou shalt see me shortly after an Earle, or Governour of an Island, and that, not of every ordinary one ••neither, but of one of the best in the World. I pray God, Husband, it may be so, (replyed she) for we have very great need of it. But what means that Island? for I understand not the word. Honey is not made for the Asses mouth, quoth Sancho: Wife thou shalt know it in good time, yea, and shalt wonder, to hear the title of Ladyship given thee by all thy Vassals. What is that thou speakest, Sancho, of Lordships, Islands, and Vassalls? Answered Ioane Panca (for so was she called, although her Husband and she were not Knisfolk; but by reason that in the Mancha, the Wives are usually called after their Husbands Sirname) Doe not busie thy self, Ioane, quoth Sancho, to know these things on such a sudden; let it suffice that I tell thee the truth, and therewithall sow up thy mouth. I will onely say thus much unto thee, as it were by the way, that there is no∣thing in the World so pleasant, as for an honest man to be the Squire of a Knight Er∣rant, that seeks Adventures. It is very true, that the greatest number of Adventures found out succeeded not to a mans satisfaction so much as he would desire: for of a

hundred that are incountred, the ninety and nine are wont to be crosse and untoward ones; I know it by experience, for I have come away my self out of some of them well canvassed, and out of others well beaten. But yet for all that, it is a fine thing to ex∣pect events, traverse Groves, search Woods, tread on Rocks, visit Castles, and lodge in Innes at a mans pleasure, without paying the Devill a crosse.

All these Discourses passed between Sancho Panca, and his wife Ioane Panca, whilst the old woman and Don-Quixotes Niece did receive him, put off his clothes, and lay him down in his ancient bed: he looked upon them very earnestly, and could not con∣jecture where he was. The Curate charged the Niece to cherish her Uncle very care∣fully, and that they should look well that he made not the third escape; relating at large all the adoe that they had to bring him home. Here both the women renewed their exclamations: their execreations of all Books of Knighthood here came to be rei∣terated: here they besought Heaven to throw down into the very Center of the bot∣tomlesse Pit, the out-cryes of so many lies and ravings: Finally, they remained per∣plexed and timorous, that they should lose again their Master and Uncle, as soon as he was any thing recovered; and it befell just as they suspected: but the Authour of this History, although he have with all diligence and curiosity inquired after the Acts atcheived by Don-Quixote in his third sally to seek Adventures, yet could he never attaine (at least by authenticall Writings) to any notice of them: Only Fame hath left in the memories of the Mancha, that Don-Quixote after his third escape, was at Saragosa; and present at certain famous Justs made in that Citty; and that therein befell him events most worthy of his valour and good wit: But of his end he could finde nothing, nor ever should have known ought, if good fortune had not offered to his view an old Phisician, who had in his custodie a leaden Box, which as hee affirmed, was found in the ruines of an old Eremitage, as it was a repayring; in which Box were certaine scroles of Parchment written with Gothicall Characters, but contayning Casti∣lian verses, which comprehended many of his Acts, and specified Dulcinea of Toboso her beautie; decyphered Rozinante, and intreated of Sancho Panca's fidelitie; as also of Don-Quixotes Sepulchre, with sundry Epitaphs and Elogies of his Life and Man∣ners, and those that could bee read and copied out throughly, were those that are here set downe by the faithfull Authour of this new and unmatched Relation: Which Authour demands of the Readers no other guerdon, in regard of his huge travaile spent in the search of all the old Records of the Mancha, for the bringing thereof unto light, but that they will daigne to afford it as much credit as discreete men are wont to give unto Bookes of Knighthood, which are of so great Reputation now a dayes in the World; for herewith hee will rest most fully contented, and satisfied; and withall encouraged to publish and seeke out for other Discourses, if not altogether so true as this, at least of as great, both Invention and Recreation. The first words written in the Scrole of Parchment, that was found in the leaden Box, were these.

The Academicks of Argamasilla, a Towne of the Mancha, on the Life and Death of the valorous DON-QUIXOTE of the Mancha; hoc scripserunt.

An Epitaph of Monicongo the Academick of Argamasilla, to DON-QUIXOTES Sepulcre.

THE clattring Thunderbolt that did adorne The Mancha, with more spoyles then Jason Creete: The Wit, whose Wether-cock, was sharp was Thorne, When somewhat flatter it to bee was meete. The Arme which did his powre so much dilate, As it Gaeta and Cathay did retch; The dreadfull'st Muse, and eke discreetest, that In brazen-sheets did prayses ever stretch. Hee that the Amadises left behinde, And held the Gataors but in small esteeme, Both for his braverie and his loving minde. Hee dumb that made Don-Belianis to seeme: And hee that farre on Rozinante err'd, Vnder this frozen stone doth lie interr'd.

Paniagando an Academick of Argamasilla, in prayse of DULCINEA of Toboso.

SONNET.

SHE which you view with triple face and sheene, High-breasted, and couragious, like a man; Is tall Dulcinea of Toboso Queene; Of great Quixote wellbeloved than. Hee, for her sake, treads th'one and th'other side Of the browne Mountaine and the famous Fields Of Montiel and Aran Ivez so wide, On foote, all tyr'd, loaden with Speere and Shield. (The fault was Rozinantes:) O hard starre! That this Manchegan Dame and worthy Knight, In tender yeeres when people strongest are, Shee lost by death the glimpse of beautie bright; And hee, although in Marble richly done, Yet Loves wrath and deceits shee could not shunne.

Caprichioso the most ingenious Academick of Ar∣gamasilla, in praise of Rozinante DON-QUIXOTE his Steed.

SONNET.

INto the proud erected Diamond stock, Which Mars with bloody plants so often bored, Half wood with Valour, the Manchegan stuck His wav'ring Standard; and his Arms restored: For them thereon hee hung, and his bright Sword, Wherewith hee hacks, rents, parts, and overthrows (New prowesses) to which Art must afford New stiles on this new Palatine to gloze. And if Gaule m••ch her Amadis doth prize Whose brave descendants have illustred Greece, And fild it full of Trophies and of Fame: Much more Bellona's Court doth solemnize Quixote; whose like in Gaule nor Grecia is; So honourd's none, as in Mancha, his name. Let no oblivion his glory stain, Seeing in swiftnesse Rozinant his Steed Even Bayard doth, and Briliador exceed.

Burlador Academick of Argamasilla to SANCHO PANCA.

SONNET.

THis Sancho Panca is of Body little; But yet, O miracle! in Valour great, The simplest Squire, and sooth to say, lest suttle That in this World, I swear liv'd ever yet. From being an Earl, he scarce was a threads bredth, Had not at once conspir'd to crosse his guerdon The malice of the times, and men misled, Which scarce, an Asse incountring, would him pardon. Vpon the like hee rode; O give me leave To tell how this meek Squire after the Horse Milde Rozinante and his Lord did drive! O! then vain hopes of men, what thing is worse? Which proves us, desired case to lend, Yet doe at last in smoaks our glories end.

Chachidiablo, Academick of Argamasilla, on DON-QUIXOTE his Tombe.

AN EPITAPH.

THe worthy Knight lies there Well bruis'd, but evil-andant, Who born on Rozinant Rode waies both farr and neer. Sancho his faithfull Squire, Pansa ycleept also, Lyeth besides him too; In his Trade without Peer.

Tiquitoc, Academick of Argamasilla on DULCINEA of Toboso's Sepulchre.

AN EPITAPH.

DUlcinea here beneath Lies, though of flesh so round, To Dust and Ashes ground By foul and ugly Death. Shee was of gentle breath, And somewhat like a Dame, Being great Quixotes flame, And her Towns glorie, eath.

These were the Verses that could bee read: As for the rest, in respect that they were half consumed and eaten away by time, they were delivered to a Scholler, that he might, by conjectures declare their meaning; and wee have had intelligence that hee hath done it, with the cost of many nights watching, and other great paines, and that hee means to publish them; and also gives hope of a third Sallie made by Don-Quixote.

FINIS.