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

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.