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

THE SECOND PART OF Don-Quixote.

CHAP. I.

How the Vicar and the Barber passed their time with Don-Qui∣xote, touching his infirmity.

CID Hamet Benengeli tels us in the second part of this History, and Don-Quixote his third sally, that the Vicar and Barber were almost a whole moneth without seeing him, because they would not renew and bring to his remembrance things done and past. Notwithstanding, they forbore not to visit his Neece and the old woman, charging them they should be carefull to cherish him, and to give him comforting meats to eat, good for his heart and braine, from whence in likeli-hood all his ill proceeded. They answered, that they did so, and would doe it with all possible love and care: For they perceived that their Master continually gave signes of being in his entire judgment; at which the two received great joy, and thought they took the right course, when they brought him inchanted in the Oxe-Waine (as hath been declared in the first part of this so famous, as punctuall History.) So they determined to visit him, and make some triall of his amendment, which they thought was impossible; and agreed not to touch upon any point of Knight Erran∣try; because they would not endanger the ripping up of a sore, whose stitches made it yet tender.

At length they visited him, whom they found set up in his bed, clad in a Waste∣coat of green bayes, on his head a red Toledo bonet, so dried and withered up, as if his flesh had been mommied. He welcommed them, and they asked him touching his health: of it and himself he gave them good account, with much judgement and elegant phrase, and in processe of discourse, they fell into State-matters, and man∣ner of Government, correcting this abuse, and condemning that; reforming one custome, and rejecting another; each of the three making himself a new Law-maker, a modern Lycurgus, and a spick and span new Salon; and they so refined the Common∣wealth, as if they had clapped it into a forge, and drawn it out in another fashion then

they had put it in. Don-Quixote in all was so discreet, that the two Examiners un∣doubtedly beleeved, he was quite well, and in his right minde. The Neece and the old woman were present at this discourse, and could never give God thanks enough, when they saw their Master with so good understanding: But the Vicar changing his first intent, which was, not to meddle in matters of Cavallery, would now make a thorow triall of Don-Quixotes perfect recovery; and so now and then tels him newes from Court, and amongst others, that it was given out for certain, that the Turke was come down with a powerfull Army, that his designe was not known, nor where such a clowd would discharge it self: and that all Christendome was affrighted with this terrour he puts us in with his yeerly Alarme: Likewise, that his Majesty had made strong the coasts of Naples, Sicily, and Malta. To this (said Don-Quixote) his Ma∣jesty hath done like a most politique Warrior, in looking to his Dominions in time, lest the enemy might take him at unawares: but if my counsaile might prevaile, I would advise him to use a prevention, which he is farr from thinking on at present. The Vicar scarse heard this, when he thought with himself; God defend thee, poor Don-Quixote: for me thinkes thou fallest headlong from the high top of thy mad∣nesse, into the profound bottome of thy simplicity. But the Barber presently being of the Vicars minde, askes Don-Quixote what advice it was he would give? for per∣adventure (said he) it is such an one as may be put in the roll of those many idle ones that are usually given to Princes. Mine, Good-man, Shaver (quoth Don-Quixote) is no such. I spoke not to that intent (replyed the Barber) but that it is commonly seen, that all or the most of your projects that are given to his Majesty, are either impos∣sible, or frivolous, either in detriment of the King or Kingdome. Well, mine (quoth Don-Qiuxote) is neither impossible, nor frivolous; but the plainest, the justest, the most manageable and compendious, that may be contained in the thought of any Pro∣jectour. Your are long a telling us it, Master Don-Quixote, said the Vicar, I would not (replyed he) tell it you heere now, that it should be earely to morrow in the eares of some privy Councellour, and that another should reap the praise and reward of my labour. For me (quoth the Barber) I passe my word, heer and before God, to tell neither King nor Keisar, nor any earthly man what you say: an oath I learnt out of the Ballad of the Vicar, in the Preface whereof he told the King of the theef that robbed him of his two hundred double pistolets, and his gadding mule. I know not your histories (said Don-Quixote) but I presume the oath is good, be∣cause Master Barber is an honest man. If he were not (said the Vicar) I would make it good, and undertake for him upon paine of excommunication. And who shall under∣take for you. Master Vicar, (quoth Don-Quixote?) My profession (answered he) which is to keep counsaile. Body of me (said Don-Quixote) is there any more to be done then, but that the King cause proclamation to be made, that at a prefixed day, all the Knights Errant that rove up and down Spaine, repaire to the Court? and if there came but half a dozen, yet such an one there might be amongst them, as would destroy all the Turkes power. Harken to me, Hoe, and let me take you with me: doe you think it is strange, that one Knight Errant should conquer an army of two hundred thou∣sand fighting men, as if all together had but one throat, or were made of sugar pellets? But tell me, how many stories are full of those marvels? You should have brave Don Belianis alive now, with a pox to me, for Ile curse no other; or some one of that invincible linage of Amadis de Gaul: for if any of these were living at this day, and should affront the Turke, I faith I would not be in his coat: but God will pro∣vide for his people, and send some one, if not so brave a Knight Errant as those for∣merly, yet at least that shall not be inferiour in courage; and God knowes my mean∣ing, and I say no more Alasse (quoth the Neece at this instant) hang me, if my master have not a desire to turne Knight Errant againe. Then cryed Don-Quixote, I must die so, march the Turke up and down when he will, and as powerfully as he can, I say again, God knowes my meaning. Then said the Barber, Good Sirs, give me leave to tell you a brief tale of an accident in Sevill, which because it fals out so pat, I must tell it. Don-Quixote was willing, the Vicar and the rest gave their attention, and thus he began.

In the house of the mad-men at Sevil, there was one put in there by his kindred, to re∣cover him of his lost wits, he was a Bachelour of Law, graduated in the Canons at Osuna, and though hee had beene graduated at Salamanca, yet (as many are of opinon) hee would have beene mad there too; this Bachelour after some yeeres imprisonment, made it appeare that hee was well and in his right wits, and to this purpose writes to the Arch-Bishop, desiring him earnestly, and with forcible reasons, to deliver him from that misery in which hee lived, since by Gods mercy, hee had now recovered his lost understanding: and that his kindred, onely to get his wealth, had kept him there, & so meant to hold him still wrongfully till his death. The Arch-Bishop, induced by ma∣ny sensible and discreet lines of his, commanded one of his Chaplaines to informe himself from the Rector of the house, of the truth; and to speak also with the mad man, that if hee perceived hee was in his wits, hee should give him his liberty. The Chaplain did this; and the Rector said that the party was still mad, that although he had sometimes fair intermissions, yet in the end hee would grow to such a raving, as might equall his former discretion (as he told him) hee might perceive by discoursing with him. The Chaplain would needs make tryall; and coming to him, talked with him an hour or more; and in all that time the Mad-man never gave him a cros••e nor wilde an∣swer, but rather spoke advisedly, that the Chaplain was forced to beleeve him to bee sensible enough: and amongst the rest hee told him, the Rector had an inkling against him, because hee would not lose his Kindreds Presents, that hee might say he was Mad by fits: Withall hee said, that his Wealth was the greatest wrong to him in his evill Fortune, since to enjoy that, his enemies defrauded him, and would doubt of Gods mercie to him that had turned him from a Beast to a Man. Lastly, hee spoke so well that hee made the Rector to bee suspected, and his Kindred thought covetous and dam∣nable persons, and himself so discreet, that the Chaplain determined to have him with him, that the Arch-Bishop might see him and bee satisfied of the truth of the businesse. With this good belief the Chaplain required the Rector to give the Bachelor the clothes he brought with him thither. Who replyed, desiring him to consider what he did, for that the partie was still mad. But the Rectors advice prevailed nothing with the Chap∣lain to make him leave him; so hee was forced to give way to the Arch-Bishops Or∣der, and to give him his apparell, which was new and handsome. And when the Mad man saw himself civilly clad, and his Mad-mans weeds off; hee requested the Chaplain that in charity hee would let him take his leave of the Mad-men his Companions. The Chaplain told him that hee would likewise accompanie him, and see the Mad-men that were in the house. So up they went, and with them some others there present; and the Bachelor being come to a kinde of Cage, where an outragious Mad-man lay (although as then still and quiet) hee said, Brother, if you will command me ought, I am going to my house; for now it hath pleased God of his infinite goodnesse and mercy, without my desert to bring me to my right minde: I am now well and sen∣sible; for unto Gods power nothing is impossible: Bee of good comfort; trust in him, that since hee hath turned me to my former estate, hee will doe the like to you, if you trust in him. I will bee carefull to send you some dainty to eat, and by any means eat it; for let me tell you what I know by experience, that all our madnesse proceeds from the emptinesse of our Stomacks, that fills our Brains with aire. Take heart, take heart; for this dejecting in misery lessens the health, and hastens death. Another Mad man in a Cage over against, heard all the Bachelors discourse, and raysing himself upon an old Matresse, upon which hee lay stark naked, asked aloud, who it was that was go∣ing away sound and in his wits. The Bachelor replied; It is I, brother, that am going: for I have no need to stay here any longer; for which I render infinite thanks to God that hath done me so great a favour. Take heed what you say, Bachelor, replyed the Mad-man; let not the Devill deceive you; keep still your foot, and bee quiet here at home, and so you may save a bringing back. I know (quoth the Bachelor) I am well; and shal need to walk no more stations hither. You are well, said the Mad-man: the event will try: God be with you; but I swear to thee by Iupiter, whose Majesty I represent on earth, that for this dayes offence I will eat up all Sevill for delivering thee from hence, and

saving thou art in thy wits, I will take such a punishment on this City as shall bee re∣membred for ever and ever, Amen. Knowest not thou, poor Rascall Bachelor, that I can doe it, since (as I say) I am thundring Iupiter, that carry in my hands the scorching bolts, with which I can, and use to threaten and destroy the World? But in one thing only will I chastise this ignorant Town; which is, That for three yeers together there shall fall no rain about it, nor the Liberties thereof, counting from this time and instant hence forward, that this threat hath been made. Thou free? thou sound? thou wise? and I mad, I sick, I bound? as sure will I rain as I mean to hang my self. The stan∣ders by gave attention to the Mad-man: but our Bachelor turning to the Chaplain, and taking him by the hand, said, Bee not afraid Sir, nor take any heed to this Mad mans words: for if hee bee Iupiter, and will not rain; I that am Neptune, the Father and God of the Waters, will rain as oft as I list, and need shall require. To which (quoth the Chaplain) Nay, Master Neptune, it were not good angring Master Iupiter: I pray stay you here still, and some other time, at more leisure and oportunity wee will return for you again. The Rector and standers by began to laugh, and the Chap∣lain grew to be half abashed: the Bachelor was unclothed, there remained; and there the Tale ends.

Well; is this the Tale, Master Barber (quoth Don-Quixote) that because it fell out so pat you could not but relate it? Ah, goodman Shavester, goodman Shavester! I am not Neptune God of the Waters, neither care I who thinks me a wise man (I being none) only I am troubled to let the world understand the errour it is in, in not renew∣ing that most happy Age, in which the Order of Knight Erranty did flourish: But our depraved times deserve not to enjoy so great a happinesse as former Ages, when Knights Errant undertook the defence of Kingdomes, the protection of Damzels, the succouring of Orphanes, the chastising the Proud, the reward of the humble. Most of your Knights now-a-daies are such as russle in their silks, their cloth of gold and silver, and such rich stuffs as these they weare rather then Maile, with which they should arme themselves: You have no Knight now that will lye upon the bare ground subject to the rigour of the aire armed Cap a pie: None now that upright on his styrrops, and lean∣ing on his Launce, strives to behead-sleep (as they say your Knights Errant did:) You have none now, that comming out of this Wood, enters into that Mountain, and from thence tramples over a barren and desart shoare of the Sea, most commonly stormy and unquiet; and finding at the brink of it some little Cock-boat, without Oares, Sail, Mast, or any kinde of Tackling, casts himself into it with undaunted courage, yeelds himself to the implacable waves of the deep Main that now tosse him as high as heaven, and then cast him as low as Hell, and hee exposed to the inevitable tempest when hee least dreams of it, findes himself at least three thousand leagues distant from the place where hee embarqued himself; and leaping on a remote and unknown shoare, lights upon successes worthy to bee written in brasse, and not parchment: But now sloth triumphs upon industrie, idlenesse on labour, vice on virtue, persumption on valour, the Theorie on the Practice of Armes, which only lived and shined in those golden Ages and in those Knights Errant: If not, tell me, who was more virtuous, more va∣liant then the renowned Amadis de Gaule? more discreet then Palmerin of England? more affable and free then Tirante the White? more gallant then Lisuart of Greece? a greater hackster, or more hacked then Don Belianis? more undaunted then Perian of Gaule? who a greater undertaker of dangers then Felismarte of Hircania? who more sincere then Esplandian? who more courteous then Don Cierongilio of Thracia? who more fierce then Rodomant? who wiser then King Sobrinus? who more couragious then Renaldo? who more invincible then Roldan? who more comely or more cour∣teous then Rogero? from whom the Dukes of Ferrara at this day are descended (ac∣cording to Turpin in his Cosmographie.) All these Knights and many more (Master Vicar) that I could tell you, were Knights Errant, the very light and glorie of Knight∣hood: These, or such as these, are they I wish for, which if it could bee, his Majestie would bee well served, and might save a great deal of expence, and the Turk might goe shake his eares: And therefore let me tell you, I scorn to keep my house, since the

Chaplaine delivers me not, and his Iupiter (as goodman Barber talkes) raines not; here am I that will raigne when I list: this I speak that goodman Bason may know I understand him.

Truly Mr. Don-Quixote (said the Barber) I spoke it not to that end, and so helpe me God, as I meane well, and you ought not to resent any thing. I know well enough whether I ought or no Sir, replyed Don-Quixote. Then (quoth the Vicar) well, goe to; I have not spoken a word hitherto, I would not willingly remaine with one scruple which doth grate and gnaw upon my Conscience, sprung from what Master Don-Qui∣xote hath here told us. For this and much more you have full liberty, good Master Vi∣car (said Don-Quixote) and therefore tell your scruple, for sure it is no pleasure to continue with a scrupulous conscience. Under correction (quoth the Vicar) this it is, I can by no meanes be perswaded that all that Troop of Knights Errant which you na∣med, were ever true and really persons of flesh and bone in this world: I rather ima∣gine all is fiction, tales and lies, or dreames set downe by men waking, or to say trulyer, by men halfe and lies, or dreames set downe by men waking, or to say trulyer, by men halfe a sleepe: There's another error (quoth Don-Quixote) into which many have falln, who beleeve not that there have beene such Knights in the world: and I my selfe many times in divers companies, and upon severall occasions, have laboured to shew this common mistake, but somtimes have fayled in my purpose, at others not; supporting it upon the shoulders of Truth, which is so infallible, that I may say, that with these very eyes I have beheld Amadis de Gaul, who was a goodly tall man, well complexioned, had a broad Beard, and black, an equall countenance betwixt milde and sterne, a man of small discourse, slow to anger, and soone appeased; and just as I have delineated Amadis, I might in my judgement paint and decipher out as many Knights Errant, as are in all the Histories of the World; for by apprehending, they were such as their Histories report them, by their exploits they did, and their qua∣lities, their features, colours and Statures, may in good Philosophy be guessed at. How big deere Master Don-Quixote (quoth the Barber) might Gyant Morgante be? Touching Gyants (quoth Don-Quixote) there bee different opinions whether there have beene any or no in the world: but the holy Scripture, which cannot erre a jot in the truth, doth shew us plainly that there were, telling us the story of that huge Phili∣stine Golias, that was seven cubits and a halfe high, which is an unmeasurable greatnesse. Besides, in the Isle of Sicillia, there have beene found shanke-bones and shoulder-bones so great, that their bignesse shewed their owners to have beene Gyants, and as huge as high Towers, which Geometry will make good. But for all this, I cannot easily tell you how big Morgante was, though I suppose he was not very tall; to which opinion I incline, because I finde in his History, where there is particular mention made of his Acts, that many times hee lay under a Roofe; and therefore, since hee found an House that would hold him, 'tis plaine hee could not bee of extraordinary bignesse. Tis true (quoth the Vicar) who delighting to heare him talke so wildly, asked him what hee thought of the faces of Renaldo of Mont-alban, Don Roldan and the rest of the twelve Peeres of France, who were all Knights Errant. For Renaldo (quoth Don-Quixote) I dare boldly say, hee was broad faced, his complexion high, quick and full eyed, very exceptious and extremely cholerick, a lover of theeves and debaucht company. Touch∣ing Rolando, or Rotolando, or Orlando, for Histories afford him all these names, I am of opinion, and affirme that hee was of a meane stature, broad-shouldred, somewhat bow legged, abourne Bearded, his body hayrie, and his lookes threatning, dull of discourse, but affable and well behaved. If Orlando (said the Vicar) was so sweet a youth as you describe him, no marvell though the faire Angelica disdained him, and left him, for the handsome, briske and conceited beard-budding Medor, and that she had rather have his softnesse then tothers roughnesse. That Angelica (quoth Don-Quixote) was a light houswife, a gadder and a wanton, and left the world as full of her fopperies, as the reports of her beauty: shee despised a thousand Knights, a thousand both vali∣ant and discreet, and contented her selfe with a poore beardlesse Page, without more wealth or honour, then what her famous Singer Ariosto could give her, in token of his thankfullnesse to his friends love, either because hee durst not in this respect, or be∣cause

hee would not chaunt what befell this Lady, after her base prostitution, for sure her carriage was not very honest: So he left her when he said,

And how Catayaes Scepter shee had at will, Perhaps some one will write with better quill.

And undoubtedly this was a kinde of Prophesie, for Poets are called Vates, that is, Sooth-sayers: and this truth hath been cleerely seene, for since that time, a famous Andaluzian Poet wept, ••and sung her teares: and another famous and rare Poet of Ca∣stile her beautie. But tell mee Master Don-Quixote (quoth the Barber) was there ever any Poet that wrote a Satyre against this faire Lady, amongst those many that have written in her praise? I am well perswaded (quoth Don-Quixote) that if Sacripant or Orlando had beene Poets, they had trounced the Damozell: for it is an ordinary thing amongst Poets once disdayned, or not admitted by their fayned Mistrisses (fayned in∣deede, because they fayne they love them) to revenge themselves with Satyres and Ly∣bells; a revenge truly unworthy noble Spirits: But hitherto I have not heard of any infamatory verse against the Lady Angelica, that hath made any hurly burly in the world. Strange quoth the Vicar! With that they might heare the Neece and the Old woman (who were before gone from them) keep a noyse without in the Court: so they went to see what was the matter.

CHAP. II.

Of the notable fray that Sancho Panca had with the Neece & the old-Woman, and other delightfull passages.

THe Story sayes, that the noyse which Don-Quixote, the Vicar and the Barber heard, was of the Neece and the old woman, that were rating Sancho Panca, that strove with them for entrance to see Don-Quixote, who kept dore against him. What will this blood-hound have here? said they, Get you home to your own house, for you are he and none else, that doth distract and ring-lead our Master, and carry him astray. To which (quoth Sancho) Woman of Satan, I am hee that is distracted, ring-led, and carried astray, and not your Master: t'was he that led me up and downe the world, and you deceive your selves and understand by halves: hee drew me from my house with his cony-catching, promising mee an Island, which I yet hope for. A plague of your Islands (replied the Neece) cursed Sancho: and what be your Islands? is it any thing to eat, good-man glutton, you cormorant, as you are? 'Tis not to eat (quoth Sancho) but to rule and governe, better then foure Citties, or foure of the Kings Judges. For all that (said the old woman) you come not in heer, you bundle of mischiefe and sacke of wickednesse, get you home and governe there, and sow your graine, and leave seeking after Islands or Dilands. The Vicar and the Barber tooke great delight to heare this Dialogue betweene the three: But Don-Quixote, fearing lest Sancho should out with all, and should blunder out a company of mallcious fooleries, or should touch upon poynts that might not be for his reputation, he called him to him, and commanded the women to be silent, and to let him in. Sancho entred, and the Vicar and Barber tooke leave of Don-Quixote, of whose recovery they dispaired, seeing how much he was bent upon his wilde thoughts, and how much he was besotted with his damned Knights Errant. So (quoth the Vi∣car to the Barber) you shall quickly, Gossip, perceive, when we least think of it, that

our Gallant takes his flight againe by the river. No doubt (said the Barber) but I wonder not so much at the Knights madnesse, as the Squires simplicity, that beleeves so in the Islands, and I think all the Art in the world will not drive that out of his noddle. God mend them (said the Vicar) and let us expect what issue the mul∣titude of this Knight and Squires absurdities will have: for it seemes they were both framed out of one forge, as it were, for the Masters madnes without the Servants folly, is not worth a chip. 'Tis true (said the Barber) and I should bee glad to know their present discourse. I warrant (said the Vicar) the Neece and old woman will tell us all when they have done, for they are not so mannerly as not to harken. In the In∣terim, Don-Quixote locked in Sancho, and thus discoursed with him: I am very sorry, Sancho, you should affirme and make good, that I was hee that drew you from your dog-hole cottage, knowing that I willingly left mine, a Palace in comparison; we went out joyntly, so we marched on, and so we held our whole peregrination; both of us having undergone the same lot, the same fortune; and if once thou wast tossed in a Blanket, I have been hanged an hundred times, and herein have I the advantage of thee. Why, it was very fit (answered Sancho) for (as you hold) misfortunes are more annexed to Knights Errant then to their Squires. Thou art deceived, Sancho, (quoth Don-Quixote: for according to the saying, Quando caput dolet, &c. I un∣derstand no other language but mine owne, said Sancho. Why I mean (replied Don-Quixote) that when the head akes, all the body is out of tune: so that I being thy Lord and Master, am thy head, and thou a part of me, since thou art my servant, in which respect, the ill that toucheth me, must concerne and grieve thee, and so thine me. Indeed (quoth Sancho) it ought to be so: but when I was tossed in the Blanket, my head stood aloof, like a part, beholding me fly in the aire, without any feeling my grief, and since the members are bound to suffer for the head, the head in requitall should also suffer for them. You mean, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) that I had no feeling of your being tossed? And if you mean so, doe not, neither imagine any such thing: for at that time, I was more vext in spirit, then thou couldst be in body: but leave we this for the present: for we shall have leisure to consider and rectifie it: and tell me, friend Sancho, what say the common people of me? In what estimation doe the Gentlemen hold me? In what the Knights and Gallants? What say they of my valour? What of my exployts? What of my affability? What discourse they touch∣ing my plot in raising and restoring to the world, the long forgotten order of Knight Errantry? To conclude, I would have thee tell me all that thou hast heard: and you must tell me, without adding to my praise, or diminishing my dispraise, for it is the part of loyall servants, to tell the naked truth to their Masters, in its native colour, without increasing it by flattery, or diminishing it for any other vain respect; And I would have thee, Sancho, learne by the way, that if the naked truth should come to the eares of Princes, without the apparrell of flattery, we should have another man∣ner of world, and other ages would be called iron, and not ours, and this would be the golden age. And let me advise thee, Sancho, that well and discreetly thou tell me the truth of what thou knowest, concerning my demand. I shall with a very good will, Sir, (quoth Sancho) upon condition that you shall not be angry at what I shall tell you, since you will have the naked truth, without any other clothing then what I have seen her with. By no means will I be angry (answered Don-Quixote) thou mayst speake freely, Sancho, and without any disguise. Why then, first of all I must tell you, the common people hold you for a notable mad-man, and that I am no lesse Cox-combe. The ordinary Gentlemen say, that not containing your selfe within the limits of Gentrie, you will needs be Don your selfe, and be a man of honour, ha∣ving but three or foure acres of land, and a rag before, and another behinde. The Knights say, they would not have your poor Squires be ranked with them, that clout their owne shooes, and take up a stitch in their owne blacke stockings with green silke. That concerns not me (quoth Don-Quixote) for thou seest that I goe alwaies well clad, and never patcht: indeed a little torne sometimes, but more with my armour, then by long wearing.

Concerning your valour (quoth Sancho) your affability, your exploits, and your plot, there bee different opinions: Some say you are a mad man but a merry one; o∣thers that you are valiant but, withall, unfortunate; a third sort, that you are affable but impertinent: and thus they descant upon us, that they leave neither you nor mee a sound bone. Why looke thou Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) wheresoever virtue is emi∣nent, it is persecuted; few or none of those brave Hero's that have lived, have scaped malicious calumniation. Iulius Caesar, that most couragious, most wise, most valiant Captaine, was noted to bee ambitious, and to bee somwhat slovenly in his apparell and his conditions. Alexander, who for his exploits obtayned the title of Great, is said to have beene given to drunkennesse: Hercules, hee with his many labours, was said to have beene lascivious and a Striker. Don Galaor, brother to Amadis de Gaul, was grudged at for being offensive; and his brother for a Sheep-biter. So that Sancho, since so many worthy men have beene calumniated, I may well suffer mine, if it have beene no more then thou tellest mee. Why, there's the quiddity of the matter; Body of my Father, quoth Sancho. Was there any more said then, quoth Don-Quixote? There's more behinde yet, ••aid, Sancho, all that was said hitherto, is Cakes and white∣bread to this: But if you will know all concerning these calumnies, I'le bring you one hither by and by that shall tel um you all without missing a scrap; for last night Bartholo∣mew Carrascoes sonne arived, that comes from studie from Salamanca, and hath pro∣ceeded Batchelour, and as I went to bid him welcome home, hee told mee that your Historie was in print, under the Title of the most ingenious Gentleman Don-Quixote de la Mancha; and hee tells mee that I am mentioned too, by mine owne name of Sancho Panca, and Dulcinea del Toboso is in too, and other matters that passed betwixt us, at which I was amazed, and blessed my selfe how the Historian that wrote them could come to the knowledge of them. Assute thee Sancho (said Don-Quixote) the Authour of our Historie is some sage Enchanter: for such are not ignorant of all se∣crets they write, Well (said Sancho) if hee were wise and an Enchanter, I will tell you according as Samstn Carrasco told mee, for that's the mans name that spoke with mee, that the Authors name of this Historie is Cid Hamete Beregena [it should bee Benengeli, but Sancho simply mistakes, as followeth in the next note.] That is the name of a Moore, (said Don-Quixotes.) It is very like (quoth Sancho) for your Moors are great lovers of Berengens, [Berengena is a fruit in Spayne which they boyle with sod meate, as wee doe Carrats, and here was Sanchoes simplicitie in mistaking, and to thinke that name was given to the Author for loving the fruit.] Sancho (said Don-Quixote) you are out in the Moores Sirname; which is Cid Hamete Benengeli: And Cid in the Arabicke signifieth Lord. It may bee so (quoth Sancho) but if you will have the Bat∣chelour come to you, Ile bring him to you flying. Friend (quoth Don-Quixote) thou shalt doe mee a speciall pleasure, for I am in suspence with what thou hast told mee, and will not eate a bit till I am informed of all. Well, I goe for him (said Sancho) And leaving his Master in that his suspence, went for the Batchelour, with whom in a very short time after hee returned, and the three had a passing pleasant Dia∣logue.

CHAP. III.

The ridiculous Discourse that passed betwixt Don-Quixote, Sancho, and the Batchelor Samson Carrasco.

DON-QVIXOTE was monstrous pensative, expecting the Batche∣lor Carrasco, from whom hee hoped to heare the news of himselfe in print (as Sancho had told him) and hee could not bee perswaded that there was such a Historie, since yet the blood of Enemies, killed by him, was scarce dry upon his Sword-blade, and would they have his noble Acts of Chivalry already in the Presse? Notwithstanding, hee thought that some wise man, or friend, or enemy, by way of Enchantment, had committed them to the Presse: If a friend, then to extoll him for the most remarkable of any Knight Errant: If an Enemy, to annihilate them, and clap um beneath the basest and meanest that ever were mentioned of any inferiour Squire, although (thought hee to himselfe) no Acts of Squire were ever divulged: but if there were any History, being of a Knight Errant, it must needes bee lofty and stately, famous, magnificent and true. With this hee comforted himselfe somewhat, but began to bee discomforted, to thinke that his Author must bee a Moore, by reason of that name of Cid: and from Moores there could be no truth expected; for all of them are Cheaters Impostors and Chymists.

Hee feared likewise that he might treat of his Love with some indecencie, that might redound to the lessening and prejudice of his Lady Dulcinea del Toboso's honesty, hee desired that hee might declare his constancie and the decorum that hee had ever kept toward her, contemning Queens and Empresses, and Damsels of all sorts, keeping distance with violencies of naturall motions. Sancho and Carrasco found him thus tossed and turmoyled in these and many such like imaginations, whom Don-Quixote received with much courtesie.

This Bachelor, though his name was Samson, was not very tall, but a notable Wag∣halter, lean-faced, but of a good understanding: hee was about four and twenty yeers of age, round-faced, flat-nosed, and wide-mouthed, all signes of a malicious disposi∣tion, and a friend to conceits and merriment, as hee shewed it when hee saw Don-Quixote; for hee fell upon his knees before him, saying, Good Master Don-Quixote give me your Greatnesse his hand; for by the habit of St. Peter, which I weare, you are, Sir, one of the most compleat Knights Errant, that hath been or shall bee upon the roundnesse of the earth. Well fare Cid Hamete Benengeli, that left the stories of your Greatnesse to Posterity, and more then well may that curious Authour fare, that had the care to cause them to bee translated out of the Arabick into our vulgar Casti∣lian, to the generall entertainment of all men.

Don-Quixote made him rise and said; Then it seems my History is extant, and that hee was a Moor and a wise man that made it. So true it is (quoth Samson) that upon my knowledge, at this day there bee printed above twelve thousand copies of your History: if not, let Portugall, Barcelona, and Valencia speak, where they have been printed; and the report goes that they are now printing at Antwerp; and I have a kinde of ghesse, that there is no Nation or Language where they will not bee tran∣slated. One of the things then (quoth Don-Quixote) that ought to give a man virtu∣ous and eminent content in, is, to see himself living, and to have a good name from every bodies mouth, to bee printed and in the Presse: I said with a good name; for otherwise no death could bee equalled to that life. If it bee for good name (said the Bachelour) your Worship carries the prize from all Knights Errant: For the Moor in his language, and the Christian in his, were most curefull to paint to the life, your Gallantry, your great Courage in attempting of Dangers, your Patience in Adversities.

and your Sufferance, as well in Misfortunes as in your Wounds, your Honestie and Constancie in the so Platonick Loves of your self and my Ladie Donna Dulcinea del Toboso. I never (replyed Sancho) heard my Lady stiled Don before, only the Ladie Dulcinea del Toboso; and there the History erreth somewhat. This is no objection of moment (said Carasco.) No truly (quoth Don-Quixote:) But tell me, Signi∣or Bachelor, which of the exploits of mine are most ponderous in this Hi∣storie?

In this (said the Bachelor) there be different opinions, as there be different tastes: Some delight in the Adventure of the Winde-Mills, that you took to bee Briareans and Gyants: Others in that of the Fulling-hammers: This man in the description of the two Armies, which afterwards fell out to bee two Flocks of Sheep: That man doth extoll your Adventure of the dead man that was carried to bee buried at Segovia: One saith that that of the freeing of the Gally-Slaves goes beyond them all: Another, that none comes neer that of the Benitian Gyants, with the combat of the valourous Bis∣cayner. Tell me (said Sancho) Sir Bachelor, comes not that in of the Yanguesian Car∣riers, when our precious Rozinante longed for the forbidden fruit? The wise man (said Samson) left out nothing, hee sets down all most punctually, even to the very capers that Sancho fetcht in the blanket. Not in the blanket (replyed Sancho) but in the aire more then I was willing.

According to my thought (said Don-Quixote) there is no humane History in the World that hath not his changes, especially those that treat of Cavallery, which can never bee full of prosperous successes. For all that (replied the Bachelor) there bee some that have read your History, that would bee glad the Authors had omitted some of those infinite bastings that in divers incounters were given to Sir Don-Quixote. I, there (quoth Sancho) comes in the truth of the Story. They might like∣wise in equity silence them (said Don-Quixote) since those actions that neither change nor alter the truth of the Story are best left out, if they must redound to the misprizing of the chief person of the Historie. Aeneas yfaith was ne'er so pittifull as Virgill paints him out; Nor Vlisses so subtill as Homer describes him. True it is (said Samson) but it is one thing to write like a Poet, and another like an Historian: the Poet may say or sing things; not as they were, but as they ought to have been: And the Historian must write things, not as they ought to bee, but as they have been, without adding or taking away ought from the truth.

Well, (said Sancho) if you goe to telling of truths, wee shall finde that this Signior Moor hath all the bastings of my Master and mee; for I am sure they never took mea∣sure of his Worships shoulders, but they took it of all my body too: but no marvell; for as my Master himself saith, the rest of the parts must participate of the heads grief. Sancho, you are a Crack-rope (quoth Don-Quixote:) yfaith you want no memory, when you list to have it. If I would willingly forget those ••udgellings that I have had, the bunches yet fresh on my ribs would not consent•• Peace Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) and interrupt not the Bachelour, whom I request to proceed; and tell me, what is said of me in the mentioned History. And of me too (said Sancho) for it is said that I am one of the principall Parsonages of it. Personages, and not Parsonages, you would say Sancho (quoth Samson.) More correcting of words (quoth Sancho?) Goe to this, and wee shall not end in our life time. Hang me Sancho (said Samson) if you bee not the second person in the Story; and you have some that had as lieve hear you speake as the best there; though others would not stick to say, you were too credulous, to beleeve that your government of the Island offered by Sir Don-Quixote, here present, might bee true.

There is yet Sun-shine upon the walls (quoth Don-Quixote) and when Sancho comes to be•• of more yeers, with the experience of them hee will bee more able and fit then now, to bee a Governour. By the Masse (said Sancho) if I bee not fit to Govern an Island at these yeers, I shall never Govern, though I come to bee as old as Me∣thusalem; the mischief is, that the said Island is delaid I know not how, and not that I want brain to Govern it. Leave all to God Sancho (said Don-Quixote) for all will be

well, and perhaps better then you think for; and the leaves in the Tree move not with∣out the will of God.

'Tis true indeede (said Samson) for if God will, Sancho shall not want a thousand Ilands, much lesse one: I have seene (said Sancho) of your Governours in the world, that are not worthy to wipe my shooes, and for all this, they give um titles, and are ser∣ved in Plate. Those are not Governours of Islands (replyed Samson) but of other easier Governments; for they that governe Islands, must bee at least Grammarians. For your Gra, I care not, but your Mare I could like well enough; but leaving this government to Gods hands, let him place me where he pleaseth: I say, Sir Bachelour Samson Carrasco, that I am infinitely glad that the Author of the History hath spoken of me, in such sort that the things he speakes of me, doe not cloy the Reader, for by the faith of a Christian, if he had spoken any thing of mee not befitting an old Christian as I am, [In Spanish Christiano vieio a name they desire to be distinguisht from the Moores by:] I should make deafe men hear on't. That were to work miracles, said Sam∣son. Miracles or not miracles (quoth Sancho) every man look how he speaks or writes of men, and set not down each thing that comes into his noddle in a mingle-mangle. One of the faults that they say (said Carrasco) is in that History, is this; that his Author put in it a certaine Novell or Tale, intitled the Curious Impertinent, not that it was ill, or not well contrived, but that it was unseasonable for that place, neither had it any thing to doe with the History of Don-Quixote.

Ile hold a wager (quoth Sancho) the Dog-bolt hath made a Gallimawfry. Let me tell you (said Don-Quixote) the Authour of my storie is not wise, but some ignorant Prater, that at unawares and without judgement undertook it, hab-nab, as Orbaneja the Painter of Vbeda, who being asked what hee Painted? answered, As it happens; sometimes hee would paint yee a Cock, but so unlike that hee was forced to write un∣derneth it in Gothish letters, This is a Cock: and thus I beleeve it is with my History, that it hath need of a Coment to make it understood.

No surely (replied Samson) it is so conspicuous and so void of difficultie, that Chil∣dren may handle him, Youths may read him, Men may understand him, and old men may celebrate him: To co••clude, hee is so gleaned, so read, and so known to all sorts of People that they scarce see a lean horse passe by, when they say, There goeth Rozin∣ante: And amongst these Pages are most given to read him: You have no great mans withdrawing room that hath not a Don-Quixote in him; some take him, if others lay him down; these close with him; they demand him: Lastly, the Story is the most pleasing, the least hurtfull for entertainment that hath hitherto been seen; for all over it, there is not to be seen a dishonest word, or one like one; nor an imagination lesse then Catholique.

Hee that should write otherwise (quoth Don-Quixote) should write no truths, but lies; and hee that doth so, ought to bee burned, like them that coyne false money; and I know not what the Authour meant to put in Novels and strange Tales, my Storie affording him matter enough; belike hee holds himself to the Proverb of Chaff and Hay, &c. Well, I'le tell you, out of mentioning only my thoughts, my sighs, my tears, my honest wishes, and my on-sets, hee might have made a greater volume then all To∣status Works. Indeed, Signior Bachelor, all that I conceive, is, that to write a History or any other Work of what sort soever, a man had need of a strong judgement and a ripe understanding: To speak wittily and write conceits, belongs only to good wits: The cunningest part in a Play is the Fools; because hee must not bee a Fool that would well counterfeit to seem so. An History is as a sacred thing, which ought to bee true and reall; and where truth is, there God is, in as much as concerneth truth; howso∣ever, you have some that doe so compose and cast their Works from them, as if they were Fritters.

There is no booke so bad (said the Bachelour) that hath not some good in it. No doubt of that (said Don-Quixote:) but many times it fals out, that those that have worthily hoorded up, and obtained great fame by their writings, when they commit them to the Presse, they either altogether lose it, or in something lessen it. The rea∣son

of it (quoth Samson) is this, that as the printed workes are viewed by leisure, their faults are easily espied, and they are so much the more pried into, by how much the greater the Authors fame is: Men famous for their wits, great Poets, illustrious Hi∣storians, are alwaies, or for the most part envied by them that have a pleasure and par∣ticular pastime to judge of other mens writings, without publishing their owne. That's not to be wondred at (cries Don-Quixote?) for there be many Divines that are no∣thing worth in a Pulpit, and are excellent in knowing the defect or excesse of him that preacheth. All this (said Carrasco) Sir Don•• Qiuxote is right, but I could wish such Censurers were more milde and lesse scrupulous, in looking on the moates of the most cleere sunne of his workes whom they bite; for if Aliquando bonus dormitat Homerus, let them consider how much hee watched to shew the light of his worke, without the least shadow that might bee; and it might bee, that what seemes ill to them, were Moles, that somtimes increase the beautie of the Face that hath them; and thus, I say, that hee that prints a Booke, puts himselfe into a manifest danger, being of all impossibilities the most impossible to frame it so that it may content and satisfie all that read it.

The Booke that treats of mee (quoth Don-Quixote) will please very few: Rather contrarie (saies Samson) for as Stultorum infinitus est numerus, an infinite number have beene delighted with this History, but some found fault, and craftilie taxed the Authors memory, in that he forgot to tell who was the theefe that stole Sanchoes dap∣ple, for there is no mention there, only it is inferred that he was stole, and not long after we see him mounted upon the same Asse, without knowledge how he was found. They also say, that he forgot to tell what Sancho did with those hundred pistolets which he found in the Maile in Sierra Morena, for he never mentions them more, and there be many that desire to know what became of them, and how he imployed them, which is one of the essentiall points in the worke.

Master Samson (said Sancho) I am not now for your reckonings or relations, for my stomacke is fai••t, and if I fetch it not again with a sup or two of the old Dog, it will make me as gaunt as Saint Lucia; I have it at home, and my Pigs-nie staies for me, when I have dined I am for ye, and will satisfie you a••d all the world in any thing you will aske me, aswell touching the losse of mine Asse, as the expence of the hundred pistolets: And so without expecting any reply, or exchanging another word, home he goes. Don-Quixote intreated the Bachelour to stay and take a pittance with him; The Bachelour accepted the invitement, and so staid dinner: Beside their ordinary fare, they had a paire of houshold Pigeons added; at table they discoursed of Cavallery, Carrasco followed his humour, the banquet was ended, and they slept out the heat: Sancho returned, and the former discourse was renewed.

CHAP. IV.

How Sancho Panca satisfies the Bachelor Samson Carrasco's doubts and demands, with other Accidents worthy to be knowne and related.

SANCHO came back to Don-Quixotes house, and turning to his former discourse said, Touching what Master Samson desired to know; who, how, and when mine Asse was stolne: By way of answere, I say; that the very same night wee fled from the hue and cry, we entred Sierra Morena, after the unfortunate Adven∣ture of the Gally-slaves & the dead-man that was carrying to Se∣govia, my Master and I got us into a thicket, where hee leaning upon his Launce, and I upon my Dapple, both of us well bruized and wearied with the former skermishes, we fell to sleep as soundly, as if we had been upon some fether beds, especially I, that slept so soundly, that he, whosoever he was, might easily come and put me upon foure Stakes, which he had fastned upon both sides of my pack-saddle, upon which he left me thus mounted, and without perceiving it, got my Dapple from under me.

This was easie to bee done, and no strange accident; for wee read that the same happened to Sacripant, when being at the siege of Albraca, that famous Theefe Brunel••, with the self same slight got his horse from under his legs. Sancho proceeds: It was light day (said hee) when I had scarce stretched my self, but the stakes failed, and I got a good squelch upon the ground: then I looked for mine Asse, but not finding him, the tears came to mine eyes, and I made such strange moan, that if the Authour of our History omitted it, let him bee assured hee forgot a worthy passage. I know not how long after, comming with my Lady the Princesse Micomicona, I knew mine Asse, and that hee who rode on him in the habit of a Gipson was that Gines de Passamonte, that Cheater, that arrant Mischief-monger that my Master and I freed from the Chaine.

The errour was not in this (said Samson) but that before there was any news of your Asse, the Authour still said, you were mounted upon the self-same Dapple. I know not what to say to that (quoth Sancho) but that either the Historian was deceived, or else it was the carelesnesse of the Printer. Without doubt (saith Samson) 'twas like to bee so: But what became of the Pistolets? Were they sp••nt?

I spent them upon my self (quoth Sancho) and on my Wife and Children, and they have been the cause that shee hath indured my Journies and Careers, which I have fetche in my Master Don-Quixotes service; for if I should have returned emptie, and with∣out mine Asse, I should have been welcommed with a pox: And if you will know any more of me, here I am that will answer the King himself in person and let no body intermeddle to know whether I brought, or whether I brought not; whether I spent or spent not; for if the blows that I have had in these Voyages were to bee paid in money, though every one of them were taxed but at three farthings a peece, an hundred Pistolets more would not pay me the half of them; and let every man look to himself, and not take white for black, and black for white; for every man is as God hath made him, and sometimes a great deale worse:

Let me alone (quoth Carrasco) for accusing the Authour of the History, that if hee Print it again, hee shall not forget what Sancho hath said, which sh••ll make it twice as good as it was. Is there ought else, Sir Bachelour (said Don-Quixote) to bee mended in this Legend? Yes marry is there (said hee) but nothing so important as what hath been mentioned. Perhaps the Authour promiseth a second part (quoth Don-Quixote?)

Hee doth (said Samson) but saith, hee neither findes nor knowes who hath it, so that it is doubtfull whether it will come out or no: so that partly for this, and part∣ly because some hold that Second Parts were never good; and others, That there is e∣nough written of Don-Quixote, it is doubted that there will bee no Second Part, although some more Ioviall then Saturnists, cry out; Let us have more Quixotisme: Let Don-Quixote assault and Sancho speake, let the rest be what they will, this is enough. And how is the Author enclined?

To which (said Samson) when he had found this History, that he searcheth after with extraordinary diligence, he will straight commit it to the Presse, rather for his profit tho, then for any other respect. To this (said Sancho) What? doth the Author looke after money and gain? 'tis a wonder if he be in the right; rather he will be like your false stitching Taylors upon Christmas Eeves; for your hastie worke is never well performed; let that Mr. Moore have a care of his businesse, for my Master and I will furnish him with Rubbish enough at hand, in matter of Adventures, and with such different successes, that hee may not only make one second Part, but one hundreth: the poore fellow thinkes belike, that wee sleepe here in an Hay-mow; well, let it come to scanning, and hee shall see whether wee bee defective: This I know, that if my Ma∣ster would take my Counsell, hee should now bee abroade in the Cham∣pion, remedying grievances, rectifying wrongs, as good Knights Errant are wont to doe.

No sooner had Sancho ended this discourse, when the neighing of Rozinante came to his eares, which Don-Quixote tooke to be most auspicious, and resolved within three or four dayes after to make another sally, and manifesting his minde to the Ba∣chelor, asked his advice to know which way he should begin his journey; whose opi∣nion was, That he should goe to the Kingdome of Aragon, and to the Citty of Saragosa where, not long after, there were solemn Justs to be held in honour of Saint George, wherein he might get more fame then all the Knights of Aragon, which were above all other Knights. Hee praised his most noble and valiant resolution, but withall desired him to be more wary in attempting of dangers, since his life was not his owne, but all theirs also, who needed his protection and succour in their distresse.

I renounce that, Master Samson, (said Sancho) for my Master will set upon an hundred armed men, as a boy would upon halfe a dozen of young Melons; Body of the world, Sir Bachelour, there is a time to attempt, a time to retire, all must not be Saint Iacques, and upon um: [Santingo, y Cierra Espana. As we use in England, Saint George and th•• Victory.] Besides, I have heard, and I beleeve from my Master himself, (if I have not forgotten) that valour is a mean between the two extreames of a Coward and a rash man: and if this be so, neither would I have him fly, nor follow, without there be reason for it: but above all, I wish that if my Master carry mee with him, it be upon condition, that he fight for us both, and that I be tied to no∣thing but waiting upon him, to look to his clothes and his diet, for this I will doe as nimbly, as bring him water; but to think that I will lay hand to my sword, although it be but against base fellowes and poor rascals, is most impossible. I (Master Samson) strive not to hoord up a fame of being valiant, but of the best and trustiest Squire that ever served Knight Errant: And if Don-Quixote my Master, obliged thereunto by my many services, will bestow any Island on me of those many his Worship saith wee shall light upon, I shall be much bound to him: And if he give me none, I was borne, & one man must not live to relie on another, but on God; & perhaps I shall bee as well with a piece of bread at mine ease, as to bee a Governour; and what doe I know, whether in these kindes of Government, the Divill hath set any tripping-block before me where I may stumble and fall, and dash out my Teeth? Sancho was I borne, Sancho must I die? but for all that, if so and so, without any care or danger. Heaven should provide some Island for mee, or any such like thing; I am not so very an Asse as to refuse it, according to the Proverbe, Looke not a given Horse in the Mouth.

Friend Sancho (quoth Carrasco) you have spoken like an Oracle: Notwithstand∣ing, trust in God and Master Don-Quixote, that hee will give you not only an Island, but a Kingdome too. I think one as well as tother (quoth Sancho) and let me tell you, Master Samson (said Sancho) I thinke my Masters Kingdome would not bee be∣stowed on mee in vaine, for I have felt mine owne Pulse, and finde my selfe healthy e∣nough to rule Kingdomes and governe Islands, and thus I have told my Master many times.

Look yee Sancho (quoth Samson) Honours change Manners, and perhaps when you are once a Governour, you may scarse know your own Mother. That's to bee un∣derstood (said Sancho) of them that are basely born, and not of those that have on their Souls four singers fat of the old Christian, as I have [To expresse his not being borne a Iew or Moor:] No, but come to my condition which will bee ungratefull to no body. God grant it (quoth Don-Quixote) and wee shall see when the Government comes; for me thinks I have it before mine eyes. (Which said) hee asked the Bache∣lour whether he were a Poet, and that hee would doe him the favour to make him some Verses, the subject of his farewell to his Mistris Dulcinea del Toboso, and withall, that at the beginning of every Verse he should put a letter of her name, that so joyning all the first letters, there might bee read Dulcinea del Toboso. The Bachelor made answer, that though hee were none of the famous Poets of Spain, which they said were but three and an half; yet hee would not refuse to compose the said meeter, although hee found a great deal of difficultie in the composition, because there were seventeen letters in the name; and if hee made four staves, of each four verses, that there would bee a letter too much; and if hee made them of five, which they call Decimi, there would bee three too little; but for all that hee would see if hee could drown a Letter; so in four staves there might bee read Dulcinea del Toboso. By all means (quoth Don-Qui∣xote) let it bee so: for if the name bee not plain and conspicuous, there is no woman will beleeve the meeter was composed for her.

Upon this they agreed, and that eight dayes after their departure should be. Don-Quixote enjoyned the Bachelour to keep it secret, especially from the Vicar and Ma∣ster Nicholas [The Barber] his Neece and the old woman, lest they should disturb his noble and valiant resolution. Carrasco assured him, and so took leave, charging Don-Quixote hee should let him heare of all his good or bad Fortune at his best leisure: So they took leave, and Sancho went to provide for their Journey.

CHAP. V.

Of the wise and pleasant Discourse that passed betwixt Sancho Pança and his Wife Teresa Pança, and other accidents worthy of happy remembrance.

THe Translator of this History, when hee came to write this fifth Chapter, saies, that hee holds it for Apocrypha, because Sancho speaks in it after another manner then could bee expected from his slender understanding, and speaks things more acutely then was possible for him; yet hee would Translate it for the ac∣complishment of his promise; and so goes on as follow∣eth.

Sancho came home so jocund and so merry, that his Wife perceived it a flight-shot off, insomuch that shee needs would ask him; Friend Sancho, what's the matter that you are so joyfull? To which hee an∣swered:

Wife, I would to God I were not so glad as I make shew for. I understand you not Husband (quoth shee;) and I understand not what you mean, that if it pleased God, you would not be so contented; for though I bee a Fool, yet I know not who would willingly bee sad.

Look yee Teresa (said Sancho) I am jolly, because I am determined to serve my Ma∣ster Don-Quixote once more, who will now this third time fallie in pursuit of his Ad∣ventures, and I also with him, for my povertie will have it so, besides my hope that re∣joyceth me, to think that I may finde another hundred Pistole••s for those that are spent: Yet I am sad again to leave thee and my Children; and if it pleased God that I might live quietly at home, without putting thy self into those Desarts and crosse wa••es, which hee might easily grant if hee pleased and were willing, it is manifest that my content might bee more firm and wholsome, since the present joy I have is mingled with a sor∣row to leave thee: so that I said well, I should bee glad if it pleased God I were not so contented.

Fie Sancho (quoth Teresa) ever since thou hast been a member of a Knight Errant thou speakest so round about the bush that no body can understand thee. It is enough (quoth Sancho) that God understands me, who understands all things; and so much for that: but mark Sister, I would have you for these three daies look well to my Dapple that hee may bee fit for Armes; double his allowance, seek out his Pack-saddle and the rest of his Tackling; for we goe not to a Marriage, but to compasse the World, and to give and take with Gyants, Sprights and Hobgoblins; to heare Hissing Roaring, Bellowing, and Bawling and all this were sweet meat if we had not to doe with Yangue∣ses and inchanted Moors: [The Carriers that beat the Master and Man. Vide 1. part. Don-Quixote.]

I beleeve indeed (quoth Teresa) that your Squires Errant gain not their bread for nothing: I shall therefore pray to our Lord, that hee deliver you speedily from this misfortune. I'le tell you Wife (said Sancho) if I thought not e're long to bee Go∣vernour of an Island, I should dye suddainly. None of that Husband (quoth Teresa) Let the Hen live, though it bee with her Pip; Live you, and the Devill take all the Go∣vernments in the World; without Government were you borne, without Govern∣ment have you lived hitherto, and without Government must you goe or bee carried to your grave, when it shall please God. How many bee there in the World that live without Governments, yet they live well enough, and well esteemed of? Hunger is the best sawee in the World, and when the poor want not this, they eate contentedly. But harke Sancho, if you should chance to see a Government, pray forget not me and your Children; little Sancho is now just fifteen yeers old, and 'tis fit hee goe to school if his Unkle the Abbot mean to make him a Church-man; And look yee too, Mary Sancha our Daughter will not die if wee marry her; for I suspect shee desires mar∣riage as much as you your Government; and indeed a Daughter is better ill Married then well Parramour'd.

In good Faith (quoth Sancho) if I have ought with my Government Wife, Mary Sancha shall bee so highly married, that shee shall bee called Lady at least. Not so, Sancho (quoth Teresa) the best way is to marry her with her equall; for, if in stead of her Pattins you give her [Chapines] high-shooes; if instead of a course Petticoat, a Farthingale and silke Kertle; and from little Mal, my Lady Whacham, the Gyrle will not know her selfe, and she will every foot fall into a thousand errours, discovering the thred of her grosse and course web.

Peace foole (said Sancho) all must bee two or three yeeres practise, and then her greatnesse will become her, and her state fall out pat: howsoever, what matter is it? Let her bee your Ladyship, and come what come what will on it. Measure your selfe by your Meanes (said Teresa) and seeke not after greater, keepe your selfe to the Proverbe; Let Neighbours children hold together: 'Twere pretty ifaith, to marry our Mary with a great Lord or Knight, that when the toy takes him in the head, should new mold her, calling her Milk maid, Boores-daughter, Roche-peeler: Not while I live Husband; for this forsooth have I brought up my daughter? Get you money Sancho, and for

marrying her let mee alone: Why there's Lope Tocho, Iohn Tochoes sonne, a ••ound chopping Lad, wee knowe him well, and I knowe hee casts a Sheepes-Eye up∣on the Wench, and 'tis good marrying her with this her equall, and wee shall have him alwaies with us, and wee shall bee all one: Parent, Sonnes, und Grand-sonnes, and sonne in Lawe, and Gods Peace and Blessing will alwaies bee amongst us, and let not mee have her married into your Courts and grand Palaces, where they'l neither un∣derstand her, nor shee them.

Come hither Beast (quoth Sancho) Woman of Barrabas, why wil•• thou, without any Reason, hinder mee from marrying my Daughter where shee may bring mee grand-Sonnes that may bee stiled Lordshippe? Behold Teresa, I have alwaies heard mine Elders say; That hee that will not when hee may, when hee desireth, shall have nay: And it is not ••it that whilest good luck is knocking at our doore, wee shut it: Let us therefore sayle with this prosperous Winde; (For this, and for that which followeth, that Sancho spoke, the Authour of the Historie sayes, hee held this Chapter for Apocrypha.) Doe not you thinke, B••uite-one (said Sancho) that it will bee ••it to fall upon some beneficiall Government, that may bring us out of want: and to marry our Daughter Sancha to whom I please, and you shall see how shee shall bee cal∣led Dona Teresa Panca, and sit in the Church with your Carpet and your Cushions, and your hung-Cloathes, in spight of the Gentlewomen of the Towne? No, no, re∣maine still as you are, in one estate, without increasing or diminishing, like a picture in hangings; goe too, let's have no more, little Sancha must be a Countesse, say thou what thou wilt.

What a coyle you keep (quoth Teresa) for all that, I fear this Earledome will bee my daughters undoing, yet doe what ye will, make her Dutchesse or Princesse; it shall not bee with my consent: I have alwaies loved equality, and I cannot abide to see folkes take upon um without grounds, I was Christned Teresa, without welt or gard, nor additions of Don or Dona, my fathers name was Cascaio, and because I am your wife, they call me Teresa Panca, for indeed they should have called me Teresa Cascaio: But great ones may doe what they list, and I am well enough content with this name, without putting any Don upon it, to make it more troublesome, that I shall not be able to beare it, and I will not have folke laugh at me, as they see mee walke in my Countesses apparell, or my Governesses, you shall have them cry straight Look how stately the Hog-rubber goes, she that was but yesterday at her spindle, and went to Church with the skirt of her coat over her head in stead of an Huke, to day she is in her Varthingale and in her buttons, and so demure, as if we knew her not: God keepe mee in my seven wits, or my five, or those that I have, and Ile not put my selfe to such hazards; Get you, Brother, to bee a Government or an Island, and take state as you please, for by my mothers Holy-dam, neither I nor my daughter will stirre a foot from our village: better a broken joynt then a lost name, and keepe home, the honest mayd, to bee doing is her trade, goe you with Don-Quixote to your adventures, and leave us to our ill fortunes; God will send better, if wee bee good, and I know not who made him a ••Don, or a title which neither his Father not his Grand-father ever had.

Now I say (quoth Sancho) thou hast a Familiar in that body of thine: Lord blesse thee for a woman, and what a company of things hast thou strung up without head or feete? What hath your Cascaio, your buttons, or your Proverbs, or your State to doe with what I have said? Come hither Coxcombe, Foole, (for so I may call you, since you understand not my meaning, and neglect your happinesse) If I should say, my Daughter should cast her selfe downe some Towre, or shee should rove up and downe the World, as did the Princesse Donna Vrraca [An Infanta of Spayne] you had reason not to consent: But if in lesse then two trap-blowes, or the opening and shutting of an Eye, I clap yee a Don and Ladyship upon your shoulders, and bring it out of your stubble, and put it under your barne cover, and set you in your State, with more Cushions then the Almohada Moores had in all their linage: Why will you not consent to that that I will have you? Would you know why Husband (an∣swered

Teresa?) for the Proverb that sayes hee that covers thee discovers thee: Every one passeth his eyes slightly over the poor, and upon the rich man they fasten them; and if the said rich man have at any time been poor, there is your grumbling and cur∣sing, and your back-biters never leave, who swarm as thick as hives of Bees thorow the streets.

Marke Teresa (said Sancho) and give care to my speech, such as peradventure you have not heard in all your life time, neither doe I speak any thing of mine owne, for all I purpose to speake, is sentences of our Preacher that Preached all last Lent in this Town, who (as I remember) said, that all things that wee see before our eyes present, doe assist our Memories much better, and with much more vehemency, then things past.

(All these reasons here dilivered by Sancho are the second, for which the Translator of the History holds this Chapter for Apocrypha, as exceeding the capacity of Sancho, who proceeded, saying:)

Whereupon it happens, that when wee see some personage well clad in rich appa∣rell, and with many followers, it seems hee moves and invites us perforce to give him respect; although our memory at that very instant represents unto us some kinde of basenesse which wee have seen in that personage, the which doth vilifie him, bee it ei∣ther for Povertie or Linage; both passed over are not: and that which wee see present only is. And if this man (whom fortune blotted out of his basenesse, and to whom consequently his father left all height of prosperity) bee well behaved, liberall, and courteous towards all men, and contends not with such as are most anciently noble, assure thy self Teresa, all men will forget what hee was, and reverence him for what he is, except the envious, whom the greatest scape not. I understand you not Husband (replied Teresa) doe what you will, and doe not trouble me with your long Speeches and your Rhetorick: and if you be revolved to doe what you say. Resolved you must say Wife (quoth Sancho) and not revolved. I pray dispute not with me, Hus∣band (said Teresa) I speake as it pleases God, and strive not for more eloquence: and I tell you, if you persist in having your Government, take your Sonne Sancho with you, and teach him from henceforth to Govern; for it is fit that the Sons doe inherit and learn the Offices of their Fathers.

When I have my Government (quoth Sancho) I will send Post for him, & I will send thee monies, for I shall want none, and there never want some that will lend Gover∣nors money when they have none; but clothe him so, that hee shall not appear what hee is, and may seem what hee must bee. Send you money (quoth Teresa) and Ile clad him like a Date-leafe. So that now (said Sancho) we are agreed that our Daughter shall bee a Countesse.

The day that I shall see her a Countesse (said Teresa) will bee my deaths day: But I tell you again, doe what you will; for wee women are borne with this clog, to bee obedient to our husbands, though they bee no better then Leeks: And here shee began to weep so heartily, as if her little Diughter Sancha had been dead and buried. Sancho comforted her, saying, that though shee must bee a Countesse, yet hee would defer it as long as hee could. Here their Dialogue ended, and Sancho returned to see Don-Qui∣xote, to give order for their departure.

CHAP. VI.

What passed betwixt Don-Quixote, his Neece, and the old-woman; and it is one of the most materiall Chapters in all the Historie.

WHILEST Sancho and his Wife were in this impertinent afore∣said Discourse; Don-Quixotes Neece and old-Woman were not idle, and by a thousand signes guessed that her Uncle and their Master would a slashing the third time, and returne to the exercising of his (for them) ill Knight-Errantry; they sought by all meanes possible to divert him from so bad a purpose: But all was to no purpose; to preach in a Desart, or to beat cold iron: Notwithstanding, amongst many other discourses that passed betwixt them, the old-Woman told him; Truly Master, if you keepe not your foote still, and rest quiet at home, and suffer your selfe to bee led through Mountaines and Valleys, like a Soule in Purgatorie. seeking after those they call Adventures, which I call Misfortunes, I shall complayne on you, and crie out to God and the King, that they remedie it. To which Don-Quixote answered; Woman, what God will answer to your complaints I know not, nor what his Majesty will: Only I know, if I were a King, I would save a labor in answering such an infinity of foolish Petitions as are given him daily; for one of the greatest toyles (amongst many other that Kings have) is this; To bee bound to hearken to all, to answere all; therefore I would bee loath, that ought concerning me should trouble him. Then (quoth the old-Woman) tell us Sir, in his Majesties Court bee there not Knights? Yes (answered he) and many, and good reason, for the adornment and greatnesse of Princes, and for ostentation of the Royall Majesty. Why would not your worship (replyed she) be one of them that might quietly serve the King your Master at Court?

Looke yee, friend (answered Don-Quixote) All Knights cannot be Courtiers, nor all Courtiers neither can, nor ought to be Knights Errant; in the world there must be of all sorts and though we be all Knights, yet the one and the other differ much: For your Courtiers, without stirring out of their chambers, or over the Court thresholds, can travell all the world over, looking upon a Map, without spending a mite, without suffering heat, cold, hunger or thirst. But wee, the true Knights Errant, with sunne, with cold, with aire, with all the inclemencies of Heaven, night and day, a horse backe and on foot, doe trace the whole world through: And wee doe not know our Enemies by supposition, as they are painted, but in their reall being; and at all times, and upon every occasion wee set upon them, without standing upon tri••••es, or on the laws of Duello•• whether a Sword or Launce were longer or shorter, whether either of the parties wore a charme, or some hidden deceit; if they shall fight after the Sunnes going down or no, with other ceremonies of this nature which are used in single Combats betwixt man and man, that thou knowest not of, but I doe. Know further that the good Knight Errant (although hee see ten Gyants that with their heads, not only touch, but overtop the clouds, and that each of them hath legs as big as two great Towers, and armes like the Masts of mighty Ship, and each eye as big as a Mill-wheel, and more fiery then a Glasse-oven) must not be affrighted in any wise, rather with a staid pace and undaunted courage, hee must set on them, close with them, and if possi∣ble, overcome and make them turn tail in an instant; yea, though they came armed with the shels of a certain fish, which (they say) are harder then Diamonds; and though instead of Swords they had cutting skeins of Damasco steel, or iron clubs with pikes of the same, as I have seen them more then once or twice. All this have I said,

woman mine, that you may see the difference betwixt some Knights and others, and it is reason that Princes should more esteeme this second, or (to say fitter) this first speci∣es of Knights Errant (for as wee reade in their Histories) such an one there hath beene amongst them, that hath beene a safe-Guard, not only of one Kingdome, but many.

Ah Sir, then said his Neece, beware; for all is lies and fiction that you have spoken, touching your Knights errant, whose stories, if they were not burnt, they deserve each of them at least to have a penance inflicted upon them, or some note by which they might be known to be infamous, and ruiners of good Customes.

I assure thee certainely (quoth Don-Quixote) if thou were not lineally my Neece, as daughter to mine owne Sister, I would so punish thee for the blasphemy thou hast spoken, as should resound thorow all the world. Is it possible that a Pisse-kitchin, that scarce knowes how to make Bone-lace, dares speake and censure the histories of Knights Errant? What would Sir Amadis, have said if he should have heard this? But I warrant he would have forgiven thee, for hee was the humblest and most courteous Knight of his time; and moreover, a great Protector of Damzels: but such an one might have heard thee, that thou mightest have repented thee; for all are not courteous, or pittifull, some are harsh and bruitish. Neither are all that beare the name of Knights, so, truely; for some are of gold, others of Alchy my, yet all seeme to bee Knights: but all cannot brooke the touch-stone of truth: You have some base Knaves that burst again to seeme Knights, and some that are Knights, that kill themselves in post hast till they become Peasants: The one either raise themselves by their ambi∣tion, or virtue; the others fall, either by their negligence, or vice; and a man had need be wise to distinguish betweene these two sorts of Knights, so neer in their names, so distant in their actions.

Helpe me God (quoth the Neece) that you should know so much Unckle, as were it in case of necessity, you might step into a pulpit, and preach in the streets, [••An usuall thing in Spaine, that a Frier or Iesuite (when a fiery zeale takes him) makes his pulpit in any part of the street, or market place:] and for all that you goe on so blindely and fall into so eminent a madnesse, that you would have us thinke you valiant now you are old, that you are strong being so sickly, that you are able to make crooked things streight, being crooked with yeeres; and that you are a Knight when you are none? for though Gentlemen may be Knights, yet the poore cannot.

You say well Neece, in that (quoth Don-Quixote) and I could tell thee things concerning linages that should admire thee, but because I will not mingle Divinity with Humanity, I say nothing: Marke yee hoe, to foure sorrs of linages (hearken to mee) may all in the world be reduc'd, and they are these. Some that from base beginning•• have arived at the greatest honours. Others that had great beginnings and so conserve them till the end. Others, that though they had great beginnings, yet they end point∣ed like a Pyramis, having lessened and annihilated their beginning, till it ends in no∣thing. Others there are (and these the most) that neither had good beginning, nor reasonable middle, and so they passe way without mention, as the linage of the com∣mon and ordinary sort of people. Let the House of the Othomans bee an example to thee of the first, who had an obscure beginning, but rose to the greatnesse they now pre∣serve, that from a base and poore Sheep-heard that gave them their first beginning have come to this height in which now wee see them. Many Princes may bee an instance of the second linage, that began in greatnesse, and was so preserved without augmentati∣on or diminution, only kept their inheritance, contayning themselves within the limits of their owne Kingdomes peacefully. Thousands of examples there bee of such, as be∣ganne in greatnesse, and lessened towards their end. For all your Pharaohs, your P••olo∣mies of Aegypt, your Caesars of Rome, with all the hurrie (if I may so terme them) of your infinite Princes, Monarchs, Lords, Medes, Assyrians, Persians, Grecians, and Barbarians, all these linages, all these Lordships ended, pointed, and came to nought, as well they, as those that gave them beginning, for it is not possible to finde any of their successors, and if it were, he must be in mean and base estate; with the common

sort I have nothing to doe, since they only live and serve to increase the number of men, without deserving more fame or elogie of their greatnesse.

Thus much (Fools) you may infer from all that hath been said, that the confusion of Linages is very great; and that those are the most great and glorious that shew it in the Virtue, Wealth, and Liberalitie of their owners. Virtue, Wealth and Liberality (I say) for that great man that is Vicious, will bee the more so, by his greatness; And the rich man not liberall, is but a covetious begger; for hee that possesseth riches, is not happie in them but in the spending them; not only in spending, but in well spending them. The poor Knight hath no way to shew hee is a Knight, but that hee is Virtuous, Affable, well-Fashioned, Courteous, and well-behaved, and Officious: Not Proud, not Arrogant, not Back-biting; and above all, Charitable: For in a pennie (that hee gives cheerfully to the poor) hee shews himself as liberall as hee that for ostentation gives an Almes before a multitude: And there is no man that sees him adorned with these Virtues, but although hee know him not, hee will judge of him and think hee is well descended: for if hee were not, 'twere miraculous, and the reward of Virtue hath been alwaies Praise, and the Virtuous must needs bee praised.

There bee two courses for men to come to bee wealthy and noble by, the one is Arts, t'other Armes. I have more Armes then Learning, and was borne (according to my inclination that way) under the influence of the Planet Mars, so that I must of force follow his steps, which I mean to doe in spight of all the world, and it is vain for you to strive to perswade me that I should nill what the Heavens will me, Fortune ordains, and Reason requires, and above all my affection desires. Well; in knowing (as I know) the innumerable troubles that are annexed to Knight Errantrie; so I know the infinite goods that are obtained with it. And I know that the path of Vir∣tue is very narrow, and the way of Vice large and spacious: And I know that their ends and resting places are different; for that of Vice, large and spacious, ends in death; and that of Virtue, narrow-and cumbersome, ends in life; and not in a life that hath ending, but that is endlesse: And I know what our great [Boscan] Castilian Poet said;

To the high Seat of immortalitie, Through crabbed paths, wee must our Iourney take; Whence hee that falls can never climbe so high,

Woe is me (said the Neece) my Master too is a Poet, hee knows every thing: I hold a wager if hee would bee a Mason, hee would build a house as easily as a cage. I promise thee Neece (said Don-Quixote) if these Knightly cogitations did not wrap my Senses there is nothing I could not doe, nor no curiosity should escape me, especially Cages, and Tooth-pickers. By this one knockt at the dore; and asking who was there, Sancho answered, 'Tis I. The old Woman, as soon as she heard him, ran to hide her self, because shee would not see him. The Neece let him in; and his Master Don-Quixote went to receive him with open armes; and they both locked themselves is, where they had another Dialogue as good as the former.

CHAP. VII.

What passed betwixt Don-Quixote and his Squire, with other most famous Accidents.

THe old woman, as soone as she saw her Master and Sancho locked to∣gether, began to smell their drift, and imagining that his third sally would result from that consultation, and taking her mantle, full of sorrow and trouble, she went to seeke the Bachelour Samson Carrasco, supposing, that as he was well spoken, and a late acquaintance of Don-Quixotes, he might perswade him to leave his doting purpose; she found him walking in the Court of his house, and seeing him, she fell down in a cold sweat, (all troubled) at his feet. When Carrasco saw her so sorrowfull and af∣frighted, he asked her: Whats the matter? what accident is this? Me thinks thy heart is at thy mouth. Nothing (said she) Master Samson, but my Master is run out, doubt∣lesse, he is run out. And where runs he, said he? hath he broken a hole in any part of his body? He runnes not out (answered she) but out of the dore of his madnesse: I meane, sweete Sir Batchelour, hee meanes to bee a gadding againe, and this is his third time hee hath gone a hunting after those you call Adventures; I know not why they give um this name. The first time they brought him us athwart upon an Asse, bea∣ten to peeces. The second time hee came clapt up in an Oxe-waine, and locked in a Cage, and hee made us beleeve hee was enchanted, and the poore Soule was so chan∣ged, that his mother that brought him forth would not have known him; so leane, so wan, his eyes so sunke in his head, that I spent above six hundred egges to recover him, as God ••is my witnesse and all the World, and my Henns that will not let mee lie. That I well beleeve (quoth the Batchelor) for they are so good, and so fat, and so well nur••ured, that they will not say one thing for another if they should burst for it. well, is there ought else? hath there any other ill luck hapned more then this you feare, that your Master will abroad? No Sir (said shee) Take no care (quoth he) but get you home on Gods name•• and get me some warme thing to breakfast, and by the way as you goe, pray me the Orison of St. Apolonia, if you know it, and Ile goe thither pre∣sently, and you shall see wonders.

Wretch that I am (quoth she) the Orison of St. Apolonia quoth you, that were, if my Master had the Toothache, but his paine is in his head. I know what I say (quoth hee) and doe not you dispute with me since you know I have proceeded Batchelor at Sala∣mancha: doe you thinke there is no more then to take the Degree (said he?) With that, away she goes: and he went presently to seek the Vicar, and communicate with him, what shall be said hereafter.

At the time that Don-Quixote and Sancho were locked together, there passed a discourse between them, which the history tels with much punctuality, and a true relation.

Sancho said to his Master, I have now reluc't my wife to let me goe with you whi∣ther soever you please; reduct you would say, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote.) I have bid you more then once (if I have not forgotten) said Sancho, that you doe not cor∣rect my words, if so be you understand my meaning, and when you doe not under∣stand them, cry, Sancho, or Devill, I understand thee not: and if I doe not expresse my self, then you may correct me, for I am so focible.

I understand thee not, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) for I know not the mean∣ing of your focible. So focible is (said Sancho) I am so, so. Lesse and lesse doe I understand (said Don-Quixote.) Why if you do not understand (said Sancho) I can∣not do withall, I know no more, and God be with me. Thou meanest docible I be∣leeve,

and that thou art so pliant and so taking, that thou wilt apprehend what I shall tell thee, and learn what I shall instruct thee in.

I'le lay a wager (said Sancho) you searched and understood me at first, but that you would put me out, and hear me blunder out a hundred or two of follies. It may bee so (quoth Don-Quixote) but what saies Teresa? Teresa bids me make sure work with you, and that wee may have lesse saying and more doing; for great sayers are small doers: A Bird in the hand is worth two in the bush: And I say a womans advice is but slender, yet hee that refuseth it is a mad-man. I say so too (quoth Don-Quixote:) But say friend Sancho, proceed; for to day thou speakest preciously.

The businesse is (quoth Sancho) that, as you better know then I, we are all mortall here to day, and gone to morrow; as soon goes the young Lambe to the roast as the old Sheep; and no man can promise himself more dayes then God hath given him; for death is deaf, and when shee knocks at lifes doors, shee is in haste, neither thrats, nor entreaties, nor Scepters, nor Miters can stay her, as the common voyce goes, and as they tell us in Pulpits.

All this is true (said Don-Quixote) but I know not where thou meanest to stop. My stop is (quoth Sancho) that your Worship allow me some certain Wages by the moneth, for the time that I shall serve you [The custome of Spain is to pay their Ser∣vants Wages by the moneth;] and that the said Wages bee paid me out of your sub∣stance; for I'le trust no longer to good turnes, which come either slowly, or meanly, or never; God give me joy of mine own: In a word I must know what I may gain, little or much: for the Hen layes as well upon one eg as many, and many littles make a mickle; and whilest something is gotten nothing is lost: Indeed if it should so happen (which I neither beleeve nor hope for) that your Worship should give me the Island you pro∣mised me, I am not so ungratefull, nor would carrie things with such extremitie, as not to have the rent of that Island prized, and so to discount for the Wages I received, cantitie for cantitie. Is not quantitie as much worth as cantitie friend Sancho, answer∣ed Don-Quixote? I understand you now, said Sancho, and dare lay any thing that I should have said quantitie, and not cantitie: but that's no matter, seeing you have understood me. I understand you very well (answered Don-Quixote) and have pe∣netrated the utmost of your thoughts, and know very well what marke you ayme at, with the innumerable arrows of your Proverbs.

Look yee Sancho, I could willingly afford you Wages, if I had found in any Histories of Knights Errant any example that might give me light through the least chink, of any Wages given monethly or yeerly: but I have read all or the most part of their Hi∣stories, and doe not remember that ever I have read, that any Knight Errant hath allowed any set Wages to his Squire: Only I know that all lived upon countenance, and when they least dreamt of it, if their Masters had good luck, they were rewarded, either with an Island or some such thing equivalent, and at least they remained with Honour and Title.

If you Sancho, upon these hopes and additaments have a minde to return to my ser∣vice, a Gods name; but to think that I will pluck the old use of Knight Errantry out of his bounds, and off the hinges, is a meet impossibilitie: So that Sancho, you may goe home and tell your Teresa mine intentention; and if that shee and you will relie upon my favour, bene quidem; and if not, let's part friends; for if my Pigeon-house have Comyns, it will want no Doves: And take this by the way, A good expectation is better then a bad possession, and a good demand better then an ill pay. I speake thus Sancho, that you may plainly see I know as well as you to sprinkle Proverbs like rain∣showres. Lastly, let me tell you; if you will not trust to my reward, and runne the same Fortune with me, God keep you, and make you a Saint; for I shall not want more obedient Squires, and more carefull, and not so irksome, nor so talkative as you.

When Sancho heard his Masters firm resolution, hee waxed clowdie, and the wings of his heart began to stoop; for hee thought verily his Master would not goe without him for all the treasure in the World. Thus being doubtfull and pensative, Samson

Carrasco entred, and the Neece desirous to heare how he perswaded her Master that hee should not returne to his Adventures.

In came Samson, a notable Crack-rope, and embracing him as at first, began in his loud key: O flowre of Chivalrie, bright light of Armes, honor and mirror of our Spanish nation; may it please Almighty God of his infinite goodnesse, that hee, or they that hinder or disturbe this thy third sally, that they never finde it in the Labyrinth of their desires, nor let the ill they wish for ever bee accomplished: And turning to the old woman hee said: You need no longer pray the Orison of Saint Apolonia, for I know the determination of the Spheres, is, that Don-Quixote put in execution his lof∣ty and new designes, and I should much burden my Conscience, If I should not per∣swade and intimate unto this Knight, that hee doe no longer withdraw and hold back the force of his valorous arme, and the courage of his most valiant minde, for with his delaying he defraudes the rectifying of wrongs, the protection of Orphans, the honor of Damzels, the Bulwarke of married women, and other matters of this qualitie, which concern, apertain, depend and are annexed unto the Order of Knight-Errantry. Go on then, my beautifull, my brave Don-Quixote, rather to day then to morrow, let your Greatnesse be upon the way, and if any thing be wanting to your journey, here am I to supply with my wealth, with my person, and if need be, to bee thy Magnifi∣cence his Squire, which I shall hold a most happy fortune. Then (said Don-Quixote) turning to Sancho, Did not I tell thee Sancho, that I should want no Squires? See who offers himselfe to me; the most rare Batchelor Samson Carrasco, the perpetual darling and delighter of the Salamancan schooles, sound and active of body, silent, suffering of heates and colds, hunger and thirst, with all the abilities that belong to the Squire of a Knight errant: but heav'n forbid, that for my pleasure I hox and break off the Columne of learning, the vessel of Sciences, and that I lop off the eminent branch of the liberall Arts: Remain thou another Samsan in thy Country, honor it, and those gray hayres of thine aged Parents, for I will content my selfe with any Squire, since Sancho daignes not to attend me.

I doe daign, said Sancho, (all tender) and the tears standing in his eyes, and thus proceeds: It shall not be said Master for me, no longer pipe no longer dance; nor am I made of hardest oake, for all the world knows, and especially my town, who the Pan∣chaes were, from whom I discend; besides I know and have searched out, by many good works, and many good words, the desire that your worship hath to do me a kindnesse, and if I have been to blame to meddle in reckonings concerning my wages, it was to please my wife, who when she once fals into a vaine of perswading, ther's no hammer that doth so fasten the hoops of a Bucket as she doth, till she obtain what she would have; but howsoever the husband must be husband, & the wife wife; & since I am a man every where (I cannot deny that) I will also be so at home in spite of any: so that ther's no more to be done, but that you make your will, and set to your Codicill, in such sort, that it may not be revolked, and let's straight to our journey, that Master. Samsons Soule may not suffer; for hee saith, his Conscience is unquiet, till hee have perswa∣ded you to your third sally through the World, and I afresh offer my service faith∣fully and loyally, as well, and better then any Squire that ever served Knight errant in former times or in present:

The Batchelor wondred to heare Sanchoes manner and method of speaking: for though in the first Historie hee had read of his Master, hee never thought Sancho had beene so witty as they there paint him out, yet hearing him now mention Will and Codicill, revolking in stead of Revoking, hee beleeved all that hee had read of him, and confirmed him to bee one of the most solemnest Coxcombes of our Age, and said to himselfe, that two such mad-men, as Master and Man, were not in all the world againe.

Now Don-Quixote and Sancho embraced, and remayned friends, and with the grand Carrascoes approbation and good will (who was then their Oracle) it was Decreed, That within three dayes they should depart, in which they might have time to provide all things necessarie for their Voyage, and to get an Helmet, which Don-Quixote

said, hee must by all meanes carry. Samson offered him one, for hee knew a friend of his would not deny it him, although it were souler with mold and rust, then bright with smoothe steele.

The Neece and old woman cursed the Bachelour unmercifully, they tore their haire, scratcht their faces, and as your funerall mourners use, they howled at their Masters departure, as if he had been a dead man. The designe that Samson had to perswade him to this third sally, was, to doe what the History tels us hereafter, all by the advice of the Vicar and the Barber, to whom he had before communicated it. Well, in those three dayes, Don-Quixote and Sancho fitted themselves with what they thought they needed, and Sancho having set down the time to his wife and Don-Quixote to his Neece, and the old woman; toward night, without taking leave of any body, but the Bachelor, who would needs bring them halfe a league from the towne, they tooke their way towards Toboso. Don-Quixote upon his good Rozinante, and Sancho on his old Dapple, his wallets were stuffed with provant, and his purse with money that Don-Quixote gave him for their expences. Samson embraced him and desired him that he might heare of his good or ill fortune, to rejoyce for the one, or be sorry for the other, as the law of friendship did require; Don-Quixote made him a promise. Samson returned home, and the two went on towards the famous Citty of Toboso.

CHAP. VIII.

What befell Don-Quixote, going to see his Mistris Dulcinea del Toboso.

BLessed be the powerfull Ala (saith Hamete Beneng••li) at the begin∣ning of this eighth Chapter: [Ala amongst the Moores, is as much as Mahomet amongst the Turkes:] Blessed be Ala, which he thrice re∣peated, and said, that he rendred these benedictions, to see that now Don-Quixote and Sancho were upon their march, and that the Rea∣ders of their delightfull History may reckon, that from this time the exployts and conceits of Don-Quixote and his Squire doe begin: He perswades them they should forget the former Chivalry of the noble Knight, and fix their eyes upon his Acts to come, which begin now in his way towards Toboso, as the former did in the fields of Montiel, and it is a small request, for so much as he is to performe, so he proceeds, saying:

Don-Quixote and Sancho, were now all alone, and Samson was scarce gone from them, when Rozinante began to neigh, and Dapple to sigh, which, both by Knight and Squire were held for lucky signes, and an happy presaging, though if the truth were tolde, Dapples sighs and brayings were more then the Horses neighing: where∣upon Sancho, collected, that his fortune should exceed and over top of his Masters; building, I know not upon what judiciall Astrologie, that sure he knew, although the History sayes nothing of it, onely he would often say, when he fell down or stumbled, he would have beene glad, not to have gone abroad: for of stumbling or falling came nothing, but tearing his shooes, or breaking a rib, and though hee were a foole, yet hee was not out in this.

Don-Quixote said unto him; Friend Sancho, the night comes on us apace, and it will grow too darke for us, to reach Toboso ere it be day, whither I am determined to goe, before I undertake any adventure, and there I meane to receive a benediction, and take leave of the Peerelesse Dulcinea del Toboso, after which I know and am as∣sured, I shall end and close up every dangerous adventure; for nothing makes Knights

Errant more hardy, then to see themselves favoured by their Mistresses. I beleeve it (quoth Sancho:) but I doubt you will not speak with her; at least, not see her where you may receive her blessing, if shee give you it not from the Mud-walls where I saw her the first time, when I carried the Letter and news of your mad pranks which you were playing in the heart of Sierra Morena.

Were those Mud-walls in thy fantasie Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) through which thou sawest that never enough-praised gentlenesse and beauty? They were not so, but Galleries, Walks, or goodly stone Pavements, or how call yee them? of rich and royall Pallaces. All this might bee (answered Sancho) but to me they seemed no better, as I remember. Yet let's goe thither (quoth Don-Quixote:) for so I see her, let them bee Mud-walls, or not, or Windows; all is one whether I see her thorow chinks, or thorow Garden-Lattices; for each ray that comes from the sunne of her brightnesse to mine eyes, will lighten mine understanding, and strengthen mine heart, and make mee sole and rare in my wisdome and volour.

Truly Sir (said Sancho) when I saw that Sunne, it was not so bright, that it cast any rayes from it; and belike 'twas, that as shee was winnowing the Wheat I told you of, the dust that came from it was like a cloud upon her face, and dimmed it. Still doest thou think Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) beleeve, and grow obstinate, that my Mistris Dulcinea was winnowing, it being a labor so unfit for persons of quality, that use other manners of exercises and recreation, which shew a flight-shot off their noble∣nesse? Thou doest ill remember those Verses of our Poet, where hee paints out unto us, the exercises which those four Nymphs used in their cristall habitations, when they advanced their heads above the loved Tagus [A River in Spain;] and sate in the green fields working those rich embroyderies which the ingenious Poet there describes unto us, all which were of Gold, of Purle, and woven with embossed Pearls: Such was the work of my Mistris when thou sawest her; but that the envie which some base Inchanter beares to mine affairs, turns all that should give me delight into different shapes; and this makes me fear that the Historie of my exploits which is in print (if so bee some Wizard my enemie were the Authour) that hee hath put one thing for another, mingling with one truth a hundred lyes, diverting himself to tell Tales, not fitting the continuing of a true Historie. Oh envie! thou root of infinite evils, thou worm of Virtues.

All Vices Sancho, doe bring a kinde of pleasure with them; but envie hath nothing but distaste, rancour, and raving. I am of that minde too (said Sancho;) and I think that in the Historie that Carrasco told us of, that hee had seen of us, that my credit is turned topsie turvy, and (as they say) goes a begging. Well; as I am honest man I never spoke ill of any Inchanter; neither am I so happie as to bee envied: True it is, that I am somewhat malicious, and have certain knavish glimpses: but all is covered and hid under the large cloak of my simplicitie, alwaies naturall to me, but never arti∣ficiall: and if there were nothing else in me but my beliefe (for I beleeve in God, and in all that the Roman Church beleeves, and am sworn a mortall enemie to the Jews) the Historians ought to pittie me and use me well in their writings: But let um say what they will, naked was I borne, naked I am; I neither win nor lose; and though they put me in Books, and carrie me up and down from hand to hand, I care not a fig, let um say what they will.

'Twas just the same (quoth Don-Quixote) that hapned to a famous Poet of our times, who having made a malicious Satyre against all the Curtizans, hee left out one amongst them, as doubting whether shee were one or no, who seeing shee was not in the scrowl among the rest, took it unkindely from the Poet, asking him what hee had seen in her, that hee should not put her amongst the rest, and desired him to inlarge his Satyre, and put her in the spare room; if not shee would scratch out his eyes: The Poet consented, and set her down with a vengeance; and shee was satisfied to see her self famous, although indeed infamous. Besides, the Tale of the Sheapheard agrees with this, that set Diana's Temple on fire, which was one of the seven wonders of the World, because hee would bee talked of for it; and although there were an Edict, that

no man should either mention him by speaking or writing, that hee might not attain to his desire; yet his name was known to bee Erostratus: the same allusion may bee had out of an Accident that befell the great Emperour Charles the fift with a Knight of Rome.

The Emperour was desirous to see the famous Temple of the Rotunda, which in an∣cient times was called The Temple of all the Gods, and now by a better stile, Of all Saints, and it is the only entire edifice that hath remained of all the Gen••••••s in Rome, and that which doth most conserve the Glory and Magnificence of its Founders: 'tis made like an half Orenge, exceeding large, and very lightsome, having but one window that gives it light, or to say truer, but one round Loover on the top of it. The Emperour look∣ing on the edifice, there was a Roman Knight with him that shewed him the devices and contriving of that great Work and memorable Architecture; and stepping from the Loover, said to the Emperour: A thousand times, mightie Monarch, have I de∣sired to see your Majestie, and cast my self down from this Loover to leave an ever∣lasting fame behinde me. I thank you (said the Emperour) that you have not perfor∣med it; and henceforward I will give you no such occasion to shew your Loyaltie; and therefore I command you, that you neither speake to me, nor come to my presence; and for all these words he rewarded him.

I'le tell you Sancho, this desire of honour is an itching thing: What do'st thou think cast Horatius from the Bridge all armed into deep Tyber? What egged Cur∣tius to launch himself into the Lake? What made Mutius burn his hand? What for∣ced Caesar against all the Sooth-sayers to passe the Rubicon? And to give you more modern examples; What was it bored those Ships and left those valorous Spaniards on ground, guided by the most courteous Cortez in the new world?

All these and other great and severall exploits are, have been, and shall bee the works of Fame, which mortalls desire as a reward and part of the immortalitie which their famous Arts deserve; though we that bee Christian Catholick Knights Errant, must look more to the happinesse of another World (which is Eternall in the Etheriall and Celestiall Regions) then to the vanitie of Fame, which is gotten in this present frail age, and which, let it last as long as it will, it must have ending with this world which hath its limited time: so that, oh Sancho, our Actions must not passe the bounds that Christian Religion (which wee professe) hath put us in.

In Gyants wee must kill Pride, Envie in generousnesse and noble Brests; Anger in a continent reposed and quiet Minde; Ryot and Drowzinesse in Temperance and Vi∣gilance; Lasciviousnesse in the Loyaltie wee observe to those that wee have made the Mistrisses of our thoughts; and Sloth, by travelling up and down the World, seeking occasions that may make us (besides Christians) famous Knights. These San∣cho, are the means by which the extreams of Glory are obtained, which fame brings with it.

All that you have hithero spoken (quoth Sancho) I understand passing well: but I would faine have you zolve mee of one doubt, which even now comes into my head. Resolve, thou wouldst say Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) speake a Gods name, for I 'le answere thee, as well as I can. Tell mee Sir, said Sancho, these Iulies or Augusts, and all these famous Knights you talke of, that are dead, where are they now? The Gentiles, said he, undoubtedly are in Hell: the Christians, if they were good Christi∣ans, either in Purgatorie, [according to the Romish opinion, erronious] or in Hell. 'Tis very well, but the Sepulchres where the bodies of these great Lordings lie interred, have they silver Lamps [Relicks that use to bee hanged up in the Papists Churches] bur∣ning before them, or are their Chappell walls decked with Crutches, winding-sheetes, Periwigs, Legs, and wax-Eyes? and if not with these, with what? The Sepulchres of the Gentiles (said Don-Quixote) were for the most part, sumptuous Temples, the ashes of Iulius Caesars body were put upon a huge Pyramis of stone, which at this day is called Saint Peters Needle. The Emperour Adrians Sepulchre was a great Castle as bigge as a pretty Village, it was called Moles Adriani, and at this day, the Castle of Saint Angelo in Rome: Queene Artemisia buried her husband Man∣seolus

in a Sepulchre, which was held to be one of the seven wonders of the World: but none of all these, nor many others the Gentiles had, were decked with winding∣sheetes, nor any kinde of Offerings or Signes that testified they were Saints that were buried in them.

That's it I come to (said Sancho) and tell mee now, which is more, to raise a dead man, or to kill a Gyant? The answere is at hand (said Don-Quixote:) to raise a dead man. There I caught you (quoth Sancho) then, the fame of him that rayseth the dead, gives sight to the Blinde, makes the Lame walke, restoreth Sick-men, who hath Lampes burning before his Sepulchre, whose Chappell is full of Devout People, which upon their knees adore his Reliques, this man hath greater renowne, and in another world, then ever any of your Gentile Emperours, or Knights Errant ever left behinde them.

I grant you that (quoth Don-Quixote.) Well, answered Sancho, this fame, these gra∣ces, these prerogatives, how call ye um? have the bodies and Relikes of Saints, that, by the approbation and license of our holy Mother the Church, have their lamps, their lights, their winding-sheets, their crutches, their pictures, their heads of haire, their eyes, and legs, by which they increase mens devotions, and endeere their Christian fame; Kings carrie the Bodies of Saints, or their Reliques upon their shoulders, they kisse the peeces of their bones, and doe deck, and inrich their Chappells with them, and their most precious Altars.

What will you have me inferr from all this, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote?) I mean (said Sancho) that we endevour to be Saints, and we shall the sooner obtaine the fame we looke after: and let me tell you Sir, that yesterday or t'other day, (for so I may say, it being not long since) there were two poor barefoote Friers canonized or be∣atified, and now many thinke themselves happie, to kisse or touch, those yron chaines with which they girt and tormented their bodies, and they are more reverenced, then is (as I said) Roldans sword in the Armorie of our Lord the King, (God save, him:) So that (Master mine) better it is, to be a poore Frier of what order soever, then a valiant Knight Errant: a dozen or two of lashes obtaine more at Gods hands, then two thousand blowes with the launce, whether they be given to Giants, to Spirits or Hobgoblins.

All this is true (answered Don-Quixote) but all cannot be Friers, and God Almighty hath many waies, by which he carries his Elect to heaven: Cavallerie is a religion, and you have many Knights Saints in heaven. That may be (said Sancho) but I have heard, you have more Friers there, then Knights Errant. That is (quoth Don-Quixote) because the Religious in number are more then the Knights. But there are many Knights Errant (said Sancho.) Many indeed (quoth Don-Quixote) but few that de∣serve the name.

In these and such like discourses they passed the whole night, and the next day, without lighting upon any thing, worth relation, for which, Don-Quixote was not a little sorie: at last, the next day toward night they discovered the goodly Citty of Toboso, with which sight Don-Quixotes spirits were revived, but Sancho's dulled, be∣cause hee knew not Dulcineaes House, nor ever saw her in his Life, no more then his Master, so that, the one to see her, and the other because hee had not seene her, were at their Wits end, and Sancho knew not how to doe, if his Master should send him to Toboso: But Don-Quixote resolved to enter the Citty in the night, and till the time came they staid betweene certaine Oakes that were neere Toboso; and the prefixed moment being come, they entred the City, where they lighted upon things indeede.

CHAP. IX.

Where is set down as followeth.

MIdnight was neer spnn out when Don-Quixote and Sancho left the Mountaine and entred the Citie: the Town was all husht, and the dwellers were asleep with their leggs stretcht at length (as they say:) The night was brightsome, though Sancho wisht it had been darker, that hee might not see his madnesse: the Doggs in the Town did nothing but barke and thunder in Don-Quixotes eares, and affrighted Sancho's heart: Now and then an Asle braied, Hoggs grunted, Cats mewed, whose different howlings were augmented with the silent night; all which the enamoured Knight held to be ominous; but yet hee spoke to Sancho: Son Sancho (said hee) guide to Dulcinea's Pallace; it may bee wee shall finde her waking. Body of the Sunne (quoth Sancho) to what Palace shall I guide? for where I saw her High∣nesse it was a little house. Belike (quoth Don-Quixote) shee was retired into some corner of her Palace to solace her self in private with her Damzels, as great Ladies and Princesses use to doe. Sir (quoth Sancho) since, whether I will or no, you will have my Mistris Dulcinea's house to bee a Pallace; doe you think neverthelesse this to bee a fit time of night to finde the door open in? Doe you think it fit that we bounce that they may hear and let us in, to disquiet the whole Town? are wee going to a Bawdie∣house think yee, like your Whore-Masters that come and call, and enter, at what houre they list, how late soever it bee? First of all, to make one thing sure, let's finde the Pallace (replied Don-Quixote) and then Sancho I'le tell thee what's fit to bee done: and look, Sancho, either my sight fails me, or that great bulk and shadow that wee see is Dulcinea's Palace.

Well, guide on Sir (said Sancho) it may bee it is so, though I'le first see it with my eyes, and feel it with my hands, and beleeve it as much as it is now day. Don-Quixote led on, and having walked about some two hundred paces hee lighted on the bulk that made the shadow, and saw a great Steeple, which hee perceived was not the Pallace, but of the chiefe Church in the Towne. Then said hee, Sancho, wee are come to the Church. I see it very well (quoth Sancho) and I pray God wee come not to our Graves: for it is no good signe to haunt Church-yeards so late, especially since I told you (as I remember) that this Ladies house is in a little Ally without passage through. A pox on thee Block-head (said Don-Quixote) where hast thou ever found, that Kings Houses and Palaces have beene built in such Allies? Sir (quoth Sancho) every Countrey hath their severall fashions: It may bee here in Toboso they build their great buildings thus, and therefore pray Sir give mee leave to looke up and downe the streets or lanes that lye in my way, and it may bee that in some corner I may light upon this Palace (the Divell take it) that thus mocks and misleads us. Speak mannerly Sir (quoth Don-Quixote) of my Mistrisse things, and let's be merry and wise, and cast not the rope after the bucket.

I will forbeare (said Sancho) but how shall I endure, that you will needs have mee be throughly acquainted with a house I never saw but once, and to find it at mid-night being you cannot finde it that have seen it a million of times? Sirrah, I shall grow de∣sperate (quoth Don-Quixote) come hither Heretick. Have not I told thee a thousand times that I never saw the Peerlesse Dulcinea, nor never crossed the thresholds of her Pa∣lace, and that I only am enamoured on her by heare-say, and the great fame of her beau∣ty and discretion? Why now I heare you said Sancho, and since you say, you have never seen her; nor I neither.

That cannot bee (said Don-Quixote) for you told mee at least, that you had seene her winnowing of Wheate, when you brought mee the answere of the Letter

I sent by you. Ne're stand upon that (said Sancho) for let mee tell you, that I only saw her by heare-say too, and so was the Answere I brought: for I know her as well as I can box the Moone. Sancho, Sancho, said (Don-Quixote) there's a time to laugh, and a time to mourne. Now because I say, I have neyther seene, nor spoken to the Mistris of my Soul, shouldest thou say thou hast neyther seene nor spoken to her, it being otherwise (as thou knowest?) Being in this discourse, they saw one pas∣sing by them with two Mules, and by the noise the Plough made which they drew upon the ground, they might see it was some Husbandman that rose by breake of day, to goe to his tillage, and so it was: as he came, he went singing that Romante of the battell of Roncesualles with the French-men.

In hearing of which (quoth Don-Quixote) Sancho hang me if we have any good for∣tune this night. Do not you hear what this Clown sings? Yes marry doe I (said Sancho) but what doth the Chase of Roncesualles concerne us? 'Tis no more then if hee had sung the Romante of Calamos [as if we should have said in English Chevie-Case, or some such like.] and all one, for our good or ill luck in this businesse.

By this the Plough-man came by them, and Don-Quixote questioned him: Can you tell mee friend (so God reward you) which is the Palace of the Peerles•• Dulcinea del To∣boso? Sir, answered the yong man, I am a stranger, and have lived but a while in this towne, and serve a rich husbandman, to till his ground; here over against, the Vicar and the Sexton both live, any of them will tell you of this Lady Princess, as having a List of all the inhabitants of Toboso; although I think there is no such Princesse here, but many Gentlefolke, each of which may be a Princesse in her own house. Why friend (qd. Don-Quixote) it may be that she I ask for is amongst these. It may be so said the fellow and God speed you, for now it begins to be day peep; and switching his Mules, he staid for no more questions.

Sancho, seeing his Master in a deep suspence and very Malecontent, told him, Sir, The day comes on apace, and it will not bee so fitte that wee Sunne our selves in the Streete: It is better to goe out of the Cittie, and that you shade your selfe in some Grove hereabouts, and I will come backe anon, and not leave a by place in all this Towne, where I may search for the House, Castle, or Palace of my Lady, and it were ill luck if I found her not: and if I doe, I will speake with her and let her know where, and how you doe, expecting that shee give you Order and Direction, how you may see her, without any manner of prejudice to her Honour and good name.

Sancho (said Don-Quixote) thou hast spoken a thousand sentences, inclosed in the circle of thy short discourse: The advice that thou hast now given me I hunger after, and most lovingly accept of: Come sonne, let us take shade, and thou shalt return (as thou sayest) to seek, to see, and to speak to my Mistris, from whose discretion and courtesie I hope for a thousand miraculous favours. Sancho stood upon Thornes till hee had drawn his Master from the Town, lest hee should verifie the lie of the answer that hee had carried him from Dulcinea to Sierra Morena. So hee hastened him to be gone, which was presently done, some two miles from the Town, where they found a For∣rest or Wood, where Don-Quixote took shade; and Sancho returned to the Citie to speak with Dulcinea, in which Embassie matters befell him that require a new atten∣tion, and a new beliefe.

CHAP. X.

How Sancho cunningly Inchanted the Lady Dulcinea, and other successes, as ridiculous as true.

THe Authour of this History coming to relate that which hee doth in this Chapter, sayes; That hee would willingly have passed it over in silence, as fearing not to bee beleeved; because here Don-Quixotes madnesse did exceed, and was at least two flight-shots beyond his greatest that ever was: but for all this fear and suspition, hee set it down as t'other acted it, without adding or diminishing the least jot of truth in the Historie, not caring for any thing that might bee objected against him for a lyer: and hee had••reason; for truth is stretcht, but never breaks, and tramples on the lie as oyle doth upon water; and so prosecuting his Histo∣rie, hee sayes; That as Don-Quixote had shaded himself in the Forrest or Oake-Wood neer the grand Toboso: hee willed Sancho to return to the City, and not to come to his presence, without hee had first spoken to his Mistris from him, requesting her that shee would please to bee seen by her captiv'd Knight, and to daigne to bestow her bles∣sing on him, that by it hee might hope for many most prosperous successes in all his on∣sets and dangerous enterprizes. Sancho took on him to fulfill his command, and to bring him now as good an answer as the former.

Goe Lad (said Don-Quixote) and bee not daunted when thou comest before the beams of the Sunne of Beauty, which thou goest to discover: Oh happy thou above all the Squires of the world! bee mindefull, and forget not how shee entertains thee; if shee blush just at the instant when thou deliverest my Embassie; if shee bee stirred and troubled when she heares my name; whether her cushion cannot hold her; if shee bee set in the rich state of her Authority: And if shee stand up, mark her whether shee clap sometimes one foot upon another; if shee repeat the answer shee gives thee twice or thrice over; or change it from milde to curst, from cruell to amorous; whether she seem to order her haire, though it bee not disorderd: Lastly, observe all her actions and gestures; for if thou relate them just as they were, I shall ghesse what is hidden in her heart, touching my Love in matter of fact: for know Sancho, if thou knowest it not, that the actions and outward motions that appear (when love is in treaty) are the certain Messengers that bring news of what passeth within. Goe friend; and better fortune guide thee then mine, and send thee better successe then I can expect 'twixt hope and feare in this uncouth solitude in which thou leavest me.

I goe (said Sancho) and will return quickly: Enlarge that little heart of yours, no bigger then an Hasell-nur, and consider the saying, Faint heart never, &c. Sweet meat must have sowre sauce: And another, Where wee least think, there goes the Hare away, This I say, because that if to night wee found not the Castle or Palace of my Lady, now by day I doubt not but to finde it, when I least dream of it, and so to finde her. Be∣leeve me Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) thou alwaies bringest thy Proverbs so to the haire of the businesse wee treat of, as God give mee no worse Fortune then I desire.

This said, Sancho turned his back and switched his Dapple; and Don Quixote stayd a horse-back easing himself on his stirrops, and leaning on his Launce, full of sorrowfull and confused thoughts where wee will leave him, and wend with Sancho, who parted from his Master no lesse troubled and pensative then hee; insomuch that hee was scarce out of the Wood, when turning his face, and seeing that Don-Quixote was out of sight, hee lighted from his Asse, and resting at the foot of a Tree, hee began to discourse thus

to himself, and say; Now brother Sancho, I pray let's know; whither is your Wor∣ship going? To seek some Asse that you have lost? No forsooth. Well; what is it you seek for? I seek (a matter of nothing) a Princesse, and in her the Sunne of Beauty, and all Heaven withall. And where doe you think to finde this you speak of Sancho? Where? Why in the grand Citie of Toboso. Well, and from whom doe you seek her? From the most famous Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha, hee that righteth wrongs, gives the thirsty meat, and the hungry drink: [Mistakes of simplicity.] All this is well: And doe you know her house Sancho? My Master sayes, it is a Royall Palace, or a lofty Towre. And have you ever seen her trow? Neither hee nor I, never. And doe you think it were well, that the men of Toboso should know, that you were here to entice their Princesses, and to trouble their Wenches, and should come and grinde your ribs with bangs, and leave you never a sound bone? Indeed belike they should consider that you are commanded friend, but as a Messenger, that you are in no fault, not you. Trust not to that Sancho; for your Manchegan People are as cholerick as honest, and doe not love to bee jested with. In very deed if they smell you, you are sure to pay for it. Ware Hawk, ware Hawk: No, no, let me for anothers pleasure seeke better bread then's made of Wheat; and I may as well finde this Dulcinea as one Mary in Robena, [As if we should say, one Jone in London,] or a Scholler in black in Salamanca: The Devill, the Devill, and none else hath clapt me into this businesse. This Soliloquy passed Sancho with himself, and the upshot was this.

All things (said he) have a remedy but death, under whose yoke wee must all passe in spite of our teethes, when life ends. This Master of mine, by a thousand signes that I have seen, is a Bedlam, fit to be bound, and I come not a whit short of him, and am the greater Cox-combe of two, to serve him, if the Proverbe bee true that sayes Like master, like man; and another; Thou art known by him that doth thee feed, not by him that doth thee breed. Hee being thus mad then, and subject, out of mad∣nesse, to mistaking of one thing for another, to judge black for white, and white for blacke, as appeared, when he sayd, the winde-mils were Gyants, and the Friers mules, Dromedaries, and the flocks of sheep, armies of enemies, and much more to this tune; it will not be hard to make him beleeve, that some husband-mans daughter, the first we meet with, is the Lady Dulcinea: and if he beleeve it not, Ile swear; and if hee swear, Ile out-swear him; and if he be obstinate, Ile be so more: and so, that I will stand to my tackling, come what will on it. Perhaps with mine obstinacy I shall so pre∣vaile with him, that hee will send mee no more upon these kinde of Messages, see∣ing what bad dispatch I bring him; or perhaps hee will thinke, that some wicked Enchanter, one of those that hee saies persecute him, hath changed her shape, to vexe him.

With this conceit Sancho's spirit was at rest, and he thought his businesse was brought to a good passe; and so staying there till it grew to bee toward the Evening, that Don-Quixote might think he spent so much time in going and comming from Toboso, all fell out happily for him; for when he got up to mount upon Dapple, hee might see three Countrey wenches coming towards him from Toboso, upon three Asse-colts, whether male or female, the Author declares not, though it be likely they were shee-Asses, they being the ordinary beasts that those country-people ride on: but because it is not very pertinent to the story, we need not stand much upon deciding that. In fine, when San∣cho saw the three country-wenches, he turned back apace to find out his Master Don-Quixote, and found him sighing, and uttering a thousand amorous lamentations.

As soone as Don-Quixote saw him, he said; how now Sancho, what is the matter? May I marke this day with a white or a black stone? 'Twere fitter quoth Sancho, you would marke it with red-Oker, as the Inscriptions are upon Professors chaires, that they may plainly read that see them. Belike then (quoth Don-Quixote) thou bringest good news. So good said Sancho, that you need no more but spur Rozinante, and straight discover the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, with two Damzells waiting on her, coming to see your worship. Blessed God! friend Sancho, what sayest thou quoth Don-Quixote? See thou deceive me not with thy false myrth to glad my true sorrow.

What should I get by deceiving you quoth Sancho, the rather your selfe being so neer to discover the truth? Spur Sir, ride on, and you shall see our Mistris the Princesse coming, clad indeed and adorned like her selfe: Shee and her Damzels are a very spark of gold; they are all ropes of Pearle; all Diamonds; all Rubies; all cloth of Gold ten stories high at least: Their haires hung loose over their shoulders, that were like so many Sun-beams playing with the winde, and besides all this, they are mounted upon three flea-bitten Nackneys, the finest sight that can bee. Hackneyes thou would'st say Sancho. Hackney or Nackney quoth Sancho, there is little difference; but let them come upon what they will, they are the bravest Ladies that can be imagined, especially my La∣dy the Princesse Dulcinea that dazles the sences.

Let's goe sonne Sancho quoth Don-Quixote, and for a reward for this unlook't for good news, I bequeathe thee the best spoyle I get in our first Adventure next, and if this content thee not, I give thee my this yeeres Colts by my three Mares thou knowest I have to foale in our towne Common. The Colts I like quoth Sancho, but for the goodnesse of the spoyle of the first Adventure I have no minde to that. By this they came out of the wood, and saw the three Country-wenches neere them. Don-Quixote stretcht his eyes all over Toboso way, and seeing none but the three wenches, he was som∣what troubled, and demanded of Sancho, if he had left them comming out of the Citty. How, out of the City quoth Sancho, are your eyes in your noddle, that you see them not coming here, shining as bright as the Sunne at noone? I see none said he, but three wenches upon three Asses.

Now God keep me from the Devill (quoth Sancho:) and is it possible that three Hackneyes, or how call ye um, as white as a flake of snow, should appeare to you to be Asses? As sure as may be, you shall pull of my beard if that be so. Well, I tell you, friend Sancho, 'tis as sure that they are Hee, or Shee Asses, as I am Don-Quixote de la Mancha, and thou Sancho Panca; at least to me they seem so.

Peace, Sir (quoth Sancho) and say not so, but snuffe your eyes, and reverence the Mistris of your thoughts, for now she drawes neere: and so saying he advanced to meet the three Country-wenches, and alighting from Dapple, tooke one of their Asses by the halter, and fastning both his knees to the ground, said, Queen, and Princesse, and Dutchesse of beauty, let your Haughtinesse and Greatnesse be pleased, to receive into your grace and good liking, your captiv'd Knight that stands yonder turned in∣to marble, all amazed and without his pulse, to see himselfe before your Magnifi∣cent Presence. I am Sancho Panca his Squire, and he is the Way-beaten Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called The Knight of the Sorrowfull Counte∣nance.

And now Don-Quixote was on his knees by Sancho, and beheld with unglad, but troubled eyes, her that Sancho called Queene and Lady; but seeing he discovered nothing in her but Country-wench, and not very well-favoured, for shee was blub-fac'd, and flat-nosed; he was in some suspence, and durst not once open his lips. The wenches too were astonisht, to see those two so different men upon their knees, and that they would not let their companion goe forward. But she that was stayed, an∣gry to heare her self misused, broke silence first, saying; Get you out of the way with a mischief, and let's be gone, for we are in haste.

To which quoth Sancho. Oh Princesse and universall Lady of Toboso, why doth not your magnanimous heart relent, seeing the Pillar and Prop of Knight Errantry prostra∣ted before your sublimated presence? Which when one of the other two heard, after shee had cried out to her Asse, that was turning aside, shee said: Looke how these Yonkers come to mock at poore Country-folke, as if wee knew not how to returne their flouts upon them; get you gone your way and leave us, you had best. Rise San∣cho, quoth Don-Quixote, at this instant, for I perceive now, that mine ill fortune, not satisfied, hath shut up all the passages by which any content might come to this my wretched Soule within my flesh. Oh thou! the extreme of all worth to be desired, the bound of all humane gentlenesse, the only remedy of this mine afflicted Heart that a∣dores thee, now that the wicked Enchanter persecutes mee, and hath put Clouds and

Cataracts in mine eyes; and for them only, and none else, hath transformed and changed thy peerlesse beauty and face into the face of a poor Countrey-Wench; if so be now hee have not turned mine too into some Hobgoblin, to make it loathsome in thy sight, look on me gently and amorously, perceiving by this submission and kneeling which I use to thy counterfeit beauty, the humilitie with which my Soule adores thee.

Marry muff (quoth the Countrey-Wench) I care much for your courtings: Get you gone, and let us goe, and wee shall bee beholding to you. Sancho let her passe by him, most glad that hee had sped so well with his device. The Countrey-Wench that played Dulcinea's part was no sooner free, when spurring her Hackney with a prickle shee had at the end of her cudgell, shee began to run apace; and the Asle feeling the smart of it more then ordinary, began to wince so fast, that down came my Lady Dul∣cinea; which when Don-Quixote saw, hee came to help her up, and Sancho went to order and gird her Pack-saddle, that hung at the Asses belly; which being fitted, and Don-Quixote about to list his inchanted Mistris in his armes to her Asse, shee being now got upon her legs, saved him that labour; for stepping a little back, shee fetcht a rise, and clapping both her hands upon the Asses crupper, shee lighted as swift as an Hawke upon the Pack-saddle, and sate astride like a man.

Then said Sancho: By Saint R••que our Mistris is as light as a Robbin-ruddock, and may teach the cunningest Cordovan or Mexicanian to ride on their Ginets: At one spring shee hath leapt over the crupper, and without spurs makes the Hackney runne like a Musk-Cat, and her Damzels come not short of her; for they flie like the winde. And hee said true: for when Dulcinea was once on horse-back, they all made after her, and set a running for two miles without looking behinde them.

Don-Quixote still looked after them: but when they were out of sight, turning to Sancho, hee said; Sancho, how thinkest thou? How much Inchanters doe hate me? And see how farre their malice extends, and their aime at me, since they have deprived me of the happinesse I should have received to have seen my Mistris in her true being. Indeed I was borne to bee an example of unfortunate men, to bee the Mark and Butt, at which ill-Fortunes arrows should bee sent: And thou must note Sancho, that these Enchanters were not content to have changed and transformed my Dulcinea; but they have done it into a shape so base and ugly, as of a Countrey-Wench thou sawest; and withall, they have taken from her that which is so proper to her and great Ladies, to wit, her sweet sent of flowers and Amber: for let me tell thee Sancho, that when I went to help Dulcinea to her Hackney (which as thou sayest, seemed to me to bee a shee-Asse) shee gave mee such a breath of raw Garlick, as piere't and intoxicated my brain.

O base rowt, cried out Sancho instantly! Oh dismall and ill-minded Enchanters! I would I might see you all strung up together like Galls, or like Pilchers in shoals: cunning you are, much you can, and much you doe: it had been enough for you Rascals, to have turned the Pearls of my Ladies eyes into Corkie Galls, and her most pure gol∣den Haire into Bristles of a red Oxes taile; and finally, all her feature from good to bad, without medling with her Breath; for only by that wee might have ghessed what was concealed under that course rinde; though, to say true, I never saw her course∣nesse, but her beauty, which was in••initely increased by a Moale shee had upon her lipp, like a Mostacho, with seven or eight red haires like threeds of gold, and above a handfull long. To this Moale (quoth Don-Quixote) according to the correspondencie that those of the face have with those of the body; shee hath another in the table of her thigh that corresponds to the side, where that of her face is: but haires of that length thou speakest of, are very much for Moals. Well, I can tell you (quoth Sancho) that there they appeared, as if they had been borne with her. I beleeve it friend (replyed Don-Quixote;) for nature could form nothing in Dulcinea that was not perfect and complete; and so, though shee had a hundreth Moales, as well as that one thou sawest in her, they were not Moals, but Moons and bright Stars.

But tell me Sancho, that which thou did'st set on, which seemed to me to bee a pack∣saddle,

was it a plane saddle or a saddle with a back? It was said Sancho a Ginet saddle, with a field covering, worth halfe a Kingdom for the richnesse of it. And could not I see all this? Well now I say again, and will say it a thousand times, I am the unhappiest man alive. The crack-rope Sancho had enough to doe to hold laughter, hearing his Ma∣sters madnesse, that was so delicately gulled.

Finally, after many other reasons that passed betwixt them both, they gate up on their beasts, and held on the way to Saragosa, where they thought to bee fitly, to see the solemnities that are performed once every yeer in that famous City. But before they came thither, things befell them, that because they are many, famous and strange, they deserve to be written and read, as shall be seen here following.

CHAP. XI.

Of the strange Adventure that befell Don-Quixote, with the Cart or Waggon of the Parliament of Death.

DON-QVIXOTE went on, wonderfull pensative to thinke what a shrewd trick the Enchanters had played him, in changing his Mi∣stresse Dulcinea into the rustick shape of a Country-wench, and could not imagine what meanes hee might use to bring her to her pristine being; and these thoughts so distracted him, that carelesly hee gave Rozinante the Reines, who perceiving the liberty hee had, stayed every stitch-while to feede upon the greene grasse, of which those fields were full; but Sancho put him out of his Maze, saying Sir; sorrow was not ordained for beasts, but men, yet if men doe exceede in it, they become beasts; pray Sir recollect and come to your selfe, and pluck up Rozinantes Reines, revive and cheere your selfe, shew the courage that befits a Knight Errant. What a Devil's the matter? What faintnesse is this? are we dreaming on a dry Summer? Now Satan take all the Dulcineaes in the world, since the wel-fare of one only Knight Errant, is more worth then all the Enchantments and transformations in the world.

Peace Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) with a voice now not very faint, Peace I say, and speake no blasphemies against that Enchanted Lady; for I only am in fault for her misfortune and unhappinesse: Her ill-plight springs from the envie that Enchanters beare mee. So say I too (quoth Sancho) for what heart sees her now, that saw her before, and doth not deplore? Thou maist well say so Sancho, replied Don-Quixote, since thou sawest her in her just entyre beautie, and the Enchantment dimmed not thy sight nor concealed her fairnesse: Against me only, only against mine eyes the force of its venome is directed.

But for all that Sancho, I have faln upon one thing, which is, that thou didst ill de∣scribe her beauty to me; for if I forget not, thou saidst she had eyes of Pearles: and such eyes are rather the eyes of a Sea-Breame then a fayre Dames; but as I thinke, Dul∣cineaes eyes are like two green-Emralds raled with two Celestiall Arkes, that serve them for eye-brows. And therfore for your Pearles, take them from her eyes, and put them to her teeth: for doubtlesse Sancho, thou mistook'st eyes for teeth. All this may be, said Sancho, for her beauty troubled me, as much as her foulnesse since hath done you; but leave we all to God, who is the knower of all things that befalls us in this Vale of teares, in this wicked world; where there is scarce any thing without mixture of mischief, Im∣postorship, or villanie.

One thing (Master mine) troubles me more then all the rest; to think what meanes there will bee, when you overcome any Giant or other Knight, and command him to

present himself before the beauty of the Lady Dulcinea, where this poor Gyant, or mi∣serable vanquisht Knight shall finde her? Me thinks I see um goe staring up and down Toboso, to finde my Lady Dulcinea, and though they should meet her in the middle of the street, yet they would no more know her then my Father.

It may bee Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) her Enchantment will not extend to take from vanquish••d and presented Gyants and Knights the knowledge of Dulcinea: and therefore in one or two of the first I conquer and send, wee will make tryall whether they see her or no, commanding them that they return to relate unto me what hath befaln them.

I say Sir (quoth Sancho) I like what you have said very well, and by this device wee shall know what wee desire; and if so bee shee bee only hidden to you, your misfor∣tune is beyond hers: but so my Lady Dulcinea have health and content, wee will beare and passe it over here as well as wee may, seeking our Adventures; and let time alone, who is the best Phisician for these and other infirmities.

Don-Quixote would have answered Sancho Panca; but hee was interrupted by a Waggon that came crosse the way, loaden with the most different and strange perso∣nages and shapes that might be imagined. Hee that guided the Mules, and served for Waggoner, was an ugly Devill. The Wagons self was open without Tilt or Boughs. The first shape that presented it self to Don-Quixotes eyes, was of Death her self, with a humane face: And next her an Angel with large painted wings. On one side stood an Emperour, with a crown upon his head, to see to, of gold. At Deaths feet was the God called Cupid, not blind-folded, but with his Bow, his Quiver, and Arrows. There was also a Knight compleatly Arm'd, only hee had no Murrion or Head-peece, but a Hat full of divers colour'd plumes: With these there were other personages of different fashions and faces.

All which seen on a suddain, in some sort troubled Don-Quixote, and affrighted Sancho's heart; but straight Don-Quixote was jocund, beleeving that some rare and dangerous Adventure was offered unto him; and with this thought, and a minde, dispo∣sed to give the onset to any perill, hee got himself before the Waggon, and with a loud and threatning voyce cryed out: Carter, Coach-man, or Devill, or whatsoe're thou art, bee not slow to tell mee who thou art? Whither thou goest? And what People these are thou carriest in thy Cart-Coach, rather like Charons Boat, then Waggons now in use?

To which the Devill, staying the Cart, gently replied, Sir, wee are Players of Thomas Angulo's Companie; wee have played a Play called The Parliament of Death against this Corpus Christi tyde, in a Town behinde the ridge of yonder Mountain, and this afternoon wee are to play it again at the Town you see before us, which because it is so neer, to save a labour of new attiring us, wee goe in the same clothes in which wee are to Act. That young man playes Death: That other an Angell: That woman, our Authors wife, the Queen: A fourth there, a Souldier: A fifth the Empe∣rour: And I the Devill, which is one of the chiefest Actors in the Play, for I have the best part. If you desire to know any thing else of us, ask mee, and I shall answer you most punctually; for as I am a Devill, nothing is unknown to mee.

By the faith of a Knight Errant (said Don-Quixote) as soon as ever I saw this Wag∣gon, I imagined some strange Adventure towards; and now I say it is fit to bee fully satisfied of these apparitions, by touching them with our hands. God bee with you honest people; Act your Play, and see whether you will command any thing wherein I may bee serviceable to you; for I will be so most cheerfully and willingly: for since I was a boy, I have loved Mask-shews, and in my youth I have been ravished with Stage-Playes.

Whilest they were thus discoursing, it fell out, that one of the companie came to∣ward them, clad for the Fool in the Play, with Morrice-bells, and at the end of a stick hee had three Cows bladders full-blown, who thus masked running toward Don-Quixote, began to fence with his cudgell, and to thwack the bladders upon the ground,

and to frisk with his bells in the aire; which dreadfull sight so troubled Rozinante that Don-Quixote not able to hold him in (for hee had gotten the bridle betwixt his teeth) hee fell a running up and down the Field, much swifter then his anatomized bones made shew for.

Sancho that considered in what danger of being thrown down his Master might bee, leapt from Dapple, and with all speed ran to help him; but by that time hee came to him, hee was upon the ground, and Rozinante by him; for they both tumbled together. This was the common passe Rozinante's tricks and boldnesse came to: But no sooner had Sancho left his horse-backship to come to Don-Quixote, when the damning De∣vill with the bladders leapt on Dapple, and clapping him with them, the fear and noyse, more then the blows, made him fly thorow the Field, toward the Place where they were to Play. Sancho beheld Dapples career and his Masters fall, and knew not to which of the ill chances hee might first repaire: But yet, like a good Squire and faithfull Servant, his Masters love prevailed more with him then the cockering of his Asse: though every hoysting of the bladders, and falling on Dapples buttocks, were to him trances and tydings of death, and rather had he those blowes had lighted on his eye∣balls, then on the least haire on his Asses tayle.

In this perplexitie hee came to Don-Quixote, who was in a great deale worse plight then he was willing to see him; and helping him on Rozinante said; Sir, the Devill hath carried away Dapple. What Devill (quoth Don-Quixote?) He with the blad∣ders replied Sancho. Well, I will recover him (said Don-Quixote) though hee should lock him up with him in the darkest and deepest dungeons of Hell: Follow me Sancho, for the waggon goes but slowly, and the Mules shall satisfie Dapples losse. There is no need (said Sancho) temper your choller, for now I see the Devill hath left Dapple, and he returnes to his home: and he said true, for the Devill having falne with Dapple, to imitate Don-Quixote and Rozinante, he went on foot to the town, and the Asse came back to his Master.

For all that (said Don-Quixote) it were fit to take revenge of the Devil's un∣mannerlynesse upon some of those in the Waggon, even of the Emperour him∣selfe. Oh never thinke of any such matter (said Sancho) and take my Conncell, that is, Never to meddle with Players, for they are a people mightily beloved: I have knowne one of um in Prison for two murders, and yet scap'd Scot-free: Know this Sir, That as they are Merry Joviall Lads; all men Love, Esteeme and helpe them, especially if they be the Kings Players, and all of them in their fashion and garbe are Gentleman-like.

For all that (said Don-Quixote) the Devill-Player shall not scape from mee and bragge of it, though all mankinde helpe him: And so saying, hee got to the Waggon, that was now somwhat neere the Towne, and crying aloud, said; Hold, stay, merry Greekes, for Ile make yee know what belongs to the Asses and Furni∣ture, belonging to the Squires of Knights Errant. Don-Quixotes noyse was such, that those of the Waggon heard it; and guessing at his intention by his speeches, in an instant Mistrisse Death leapt out of the Waggon, and after her the Emperour, the Devill-Waggoner, and the Angell, and the Queene too, with little Cupid, all of them were streight loaded with stones, and put themselves in Order, expecting Don-Quixote with their peeble poynts.

Don-Quixote, that saw them in so gallant a Squadron, ready to discharge strongly their stones, held in Rozinantes Reynes, and began to consider how he should set upon them with least hazard of his Person. Whil'st hee thus stayed, Sancho came to him, and seeing him ready to give the onset said; 'Tis a meere madnesse Sir, to attempt this en∣terprize: I pray consider, that for your River-sops [Meaning the stones] there are no defensive weapons in the world, but to bee shut up and inlay'd under a brazen Bell: And consider likewise, 'tis rather Rashnesse then Valour, for one man alone to set upon an Army wherein Death is, and where Emperours fight in Person, and where good and bad Angels helpe: And if the consideration of this bee not sufficient, may this move you to know; That amongst all there (though they

seeme to bee Kings, Princes and Emperours, yet there is not so much as one Knight Errant.

Thou hast hit upon the right Sancho (said Don-Quixote) the very point that may alter my determination: I neyther can nor must draw my Sword, as I have often told thee, against any that bee not Knights Errant. It concernes thee Sancho, if thou meanest to bee Revenged for the wrong done unto thine Asse, and I will en∣courage thee, and from hence give thee wholsome instructions. There needes no being Revenged of any body (said Sancho) for there is no Christianity in it; besides, mine Asse shall bee contented to put his Cause to mee, and to my Will; which is to live peaceable and quietly, as long as Heaven shall bee pleased to afford mee Life.

Since this is thy determination (said Don-Quixote) honest, wise, disceet, Christian∣like, pure Sancho, let us leave these dreams, and seek other better and more reall Ad∣ventures; for I see this Countrey is like to afford us many miraculous ones. So hee turned Rozinantes reines, and Sancho took his Dapple, Death with all the flying Squa∣dron returned to the Waggon, and went on their voyage: And this was the happy end of the Waggon of Deaths Adventure; thanks be to the good advice that Sancho Panca gave his Master; to whom the day after there hapned another Adventure, no lesse pleasant, with an enamoured Knight Errant as well as hee.

CHAP. XII.

Of the rare Adventure that befell Don-Quixote with the Knight of the Looking-Glasses.

DOn-Quixote and his Squire passed the ensuing night, after their Deaths encounter, under certain high and shadie Trees, Don-Quixote having first (by Sancho's entreaty) eaten somewhat of the Provision that came upon Dapple; and as they were at Supper Sancho said to his Master; Sir, what an Asse had I been, had I chosen for a reward, the spoiles of the first Adventure which you might end, rather then the breed of the three Mares? Indeed, indeed, a Bird in the Hand is better then two in the Bush.

For all that (quoth Don-Quixote) if thou, Sancho, hadst let me give the on-set (as I desired) thou hadst had to thy share, at least, the Empresses golden crown, and Cupid's painted wings, for I had taken um away against the haire, and given them thee. Your Players Scepters and Emperors crowns (said Sancho) are never of pure Gold, but Leaf and Tinne.

'Tis true (answered Don-Quixote) for it is very necessary that your Play-ornaments bee not fine, but counterfeit and seeming, as the Play it self is, which I would have thee, Sancho, to esteem of, and consequently the Actors too, and the Authors, because they are the Instruments of much good to a Common-wealth, beeing like Looking-glasses, where the Actions of humane life are lively represented; and there is no comparison that doth more truely present to us, what wee are, or what wee should bee, then Comedie and Comedians: If not, tell me; hast not thou seen a Play acted, where Kings, Emperors, Bishops, Knights, Dames, and other personages are intro∣duced? One playes a Russian, another the Cheater, this a Merchant, t'other a Soul∣dier; one a crafty Fool, another a foolish Lover: And the Comedie ended, and the apparell taken away, all the rehearsers are the same they were.

Yes marry have I (quoth Sancho.) Why, the same thing (said Don-Quixote) hap∣pens in the Comedy and Theater of this World, where some play the Emperors, other

the Bishops; and lastly, all the parts that may bee in a Comedie: but in the end, that is, the end of our life, Death takes away all the robes that made them differ, and at their buriall they are equall. A brave comparison (quoth Sancho;) but not so strange to me, that have heard it often, as that of the Chesse-play, that while the game lasts every Peer hath it's particular motion; and the game ended, all are mingled and shuffled together, and cast into a leathern bag, which is a kinde of buriall.

Every day Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) thou growest wiser and wiser. It must needs bee (said Sancho) that some of your wisdome must cleave to me; for grounds that are dry and barren, by mucking and tilling them, give good fruit: I mean your conversation hath been the muck that hath been cast upon the sterill ground of my barren wit; and the time that I have served you, the tillage, with which I hope to render happie fruit, and such as may not gain-say or slide out of the paths of good manners, which you have made in my withered understanding.

Don-Quixote laughed at Sancho's affected reasons, and it seemed true to him, what hee had said touching his reformation: for now and then his talk admired him, al∣though for the most part, when Sancho spoke by way of contradiction, or like a Cour∣tier, hee ended his discourse with a downfall from the mount of his simplicitie, to the profunditie of his ignorance: but that wherein hee shewed himself most elegant and memorable, was in urging of Proverbs, though they were never so much against the haire of the present businesse, as hath been seen and noted in all this Historie.

A great part of the night they passed in these and such like discourses, but Sancho had a great desire to let fall the Port-cullices (as hee called them) of his eyes, and sleepe; and so undressing his Dapple, hee turned him freely to graze: with Rozinantes saddle he medled not, for it was his Masters expresse command, that whilest they were in field or slept not, within dores, he should not unsaddle him; it being an ancient custome observed by Knights Errant, to take the bridle and hang it at the saddle pummell; but beware taking away the saddle, which Sancho observed, and gave him the same liberty as to his Dapple, whose friendship and Rozinantes was so sole and united, that the re∣port goes by tradition from father to sonne, that the Author of this true History made particular chapters of it, only to keepe the decency and decorum due to so Heroick a Story: he omitted it, although somtimes he forgets his purpose herein, and writes, that as the two beasts were together, they would scratch one anothee, and being weari∣ed and satisfied, Rozinante would crosse his throat over Dapples neck at least halfe a yard over the other side; and both of them looking wistly on the ground, they would stand thus three dayes together, at least as long as they were let alone, or that hunger compelled them not to look after their provinder.

'Tis said (I say) that the Authour in his Story, compared them, in their friend∣shippe, to Nisus and Eurialus, to Pilades and Orestes, which if it were so, it may bee seene (to the generall admiration) how firm and stedfast the friendship was of these two pacifique beasts, to the shame of men, that so ill know the rules of friendship one to another. For this it was said, No falling out like to that of friends. And let no man think the Author was unreasonable, in having compared the friendship of these beasts, to the friendshippe of men; for men have received many items from Beasts, and learne many things of importance, as the Storks dung, the Dogs vomit and faithfullnesse, the Cranes watchfullnesse, the Ants providence, the Elephants honesty, and the Horses loyaltie.

At length Sancho fell fast a sleepe at the foote of a Corke-tree, and Don-Quixote re∣posed himselfe under an Oake: But not long after, a noyse behinde wakened him, and rising suddainly, hee looked and hearkned from whence the noyse came, and he saw two men on horseback, and the one tumbling from his saddle, said to the other; Alight friend, and unbridle our horses, for mee thinks this place hath pasture enough for them, and befits the silence and solitude of my amorous thoughts: thus he spoke, and stretche himselfe upon the stround in an instant, but casting himselfe down, his Armor where∣with he was armed, made a noyse; a manifest token that made Don-Quixote thinke hee was some Knight Errant, and comming to Sancho, who was fast asleepe, hee

pluck't him by the Arme, and told him softly. Brother Sancho, wee have an Adven∣ture. God grant it bee good (quoth Sancho) and where is this Master-Adventures. Worshippe? Where Sancho (replyed Don-Quixote) looke on one side, looke, and there thou shalt see a Knight Errant stretcht, who (as it appeares to mee) is not over much joyed, for I saw him cast himselfe from his Horse, and stretch on the ground, with some shewes of griefe, and as hee fell, hee crossed his Armes. Why, in what doe you perceive that this is an Adventure (quoth Sancho) I will not say (an∣swered Don-Quixote) that this is altogether an Adventure, but an Introduction to it, for thus Adventures begin.

But harke, it seemes hee is tuning a Lute or Violl, and by his spitting and cleering his brest, hee prepares himselfe to sing. In good faith you say right (quoth Sancho) and 'tis some enamoured Knight. There is no Knight Errant said (Don-Quixote) that is not so: Let us give care, and by the circumstance, wee shall search the Laby∣rinth of his thoughts, if so bee hee sing; for out of the abundance of the Heart, the Tongue speaketh. Sancho would have replyed to his Master; But the Knight of the woods voice (which was but so so) hindred him, and whilst the two were astonish't, he sung as followeth.

SONNET.

PERMIT mee, Mistris, that I follow may The bound, cut out just to your Hearts desire: The which, in mine I shall esteeme for aye, So that I never from it will retyre. If you hee pleas'd, my griefe (I silent) stay, And, die, make reckning that I straight expire, If I may tell it you, th' unusuall way, I will, and make l••ves selfe bee my supplyer. Fashion'd I am to proofe of contraries, As soft as waxe, as hard as Diamond too, And to Loves lawes, my soule her selfe applies, Or hard, or soft, my brest I offer you Graven, imprint in't what your pleasure is, I (secret) sweare it never to forgoe.

With a deep-fetcht, heigh-lo: even from the bottome of his heart, the Knight of the wood ended his song: and after some pause, with a grieved and sorrowfull voice uttered these words: Oh the fairest and most ungratefull woman in the world. And shall it be possible, most excellent Casildea de Vandalia, that thou suffer this thy cap∣tive Knight to pine and perish, with continuall pereg••inations, with hard and paine∣full labours? Sufficeth not, that I have made all the Knights of Navarre, of Leon, all the Tartesi••ns, all the Castilians confesse thee to be the fairest Lady of the world? I, and all the Knights of Mancha too? Not to, (quoth Don-Quixote straight) for I am of the Mancha, but never yeelded to that, for I neither could nor ought confesse a thing so prejudiciall to the beauty of my Mistris: and thou seest, Sancho, how much this Knight is wide: but let us hear him, it may be, he will unfold himself more. Mar∣ry will hee (quoth Sancho) for he talkes, as if he would lament a moneth togethe'r But it fell out otherwise; for the Knight of the wood, having over-heard that they talked somewhat neere him, ceasing his complaints, he stood up, and with a cleer, but familiar voice thus spake, Who's there, who is it? Is it haply some of the num∣ber of the contented, or of the afflicted? Of the afflicted (answered Don-Quixote.) Come to mee then (said he of the wood) and make account, you come to sadnesse it selfe, and to afflictions selfe. Don-Quixote, when hee saw himselfe answered so tenderly, and so modestly, drew neere, and Sancho likewise. The wailefull Knight

laid hold on Don-Quixotes arme, saying, Sit downe, Sir Knight: for to know that you are so, and one that professeth Knight Errantrie, it is enough that I have found you in this place, where solitarines, and the Serene beare you company, [Serene, the night∣dew that falls:] the naturall beds, and proper beings for Knights Errant.

To which Don-Quixote replied, A Knight I am, and of the profession you speake of, and though disgraces, misfortunes, and sorrowes have their proper seat in my minde: notwithstanding, the compassion I have to other mens griefs, hath not left it: by your complaints I ghesse you are enamoured, I meane, that you love that un∣gratefull faire one, mentioned in your laments. Whilst they were thus discoursing, they sat together lovingly upon the cold ground, as if by day breake, their heads also would not breake.

The Knight of the wood demanded, Are you happily enamoured, Sir Knight? Unhappily I am (quoth Don-Quixote) although the unhappinesse that ariseth from well-placed thoughts, ought rather to bee esteemed a happinesse then otherwise. True it is (replied he of the wood) if disdaines did not vexe our reason and understan∣ding, which being unmercifull, come neerer to revenge. I was never (said Don-Quixote) disdained of my Mistris. No indeed (quoth Sancho) who was neere them: for my Lady is as gentle as a lambe, and as soft as butter. Is this your Squire (said he of the wood?) He is (said Don-Quixote.) I ne're saw Squire (replied he of the wood) that durst prate so boldly before his Master, at least yonder is mine, as bigge as his father, and I can proove he never unfolded his lippes, whensoever I spake.

Well yfaith (quoth Sancho) I have spoken, and may speake before, as, and perhaps: but let it alone, the more it is stirred, the more it will stinke. The Squire of the wood tooke Sancho by the hand, saying: Let us goe and talke what we list Squire-like, and let us leave these our Masters, Let them fall from their launces and tell of their Loves: for I warrant you, the morning will overtake them, before they have done. A Gods name (quoth Sancho) and Ile tell you who I am, that you may see whether I may be admitted into the number of your talking Squires. So the two Squires went apart, betweene whom there passed as wittie a Dialogue, as their Master was serious.

CHAP. XIII.

Where the Adventure of the Knight of the Wood is prosecuted, with the discreete, rare and sweete Coloquy that passed be∣twixt the two Squires.

THE Knights and their Squires were devided, these telling their lives, they their loves: and thus say'th the Storie, that the Squire of the wood said to Sancho, It is a cumbersome life that we leade, Sir, we, I say, that are Squires to Knights Errant: for truely we eate our bread with the sweat of our browes, which is one of the curses, that God laid upon our first parents. You may say also (added Sancho) that we eate it in the frost of our bodies: for who endure more heats and colds, then your miserable Squires to Knights Errant? and yet not so bad if we might eate at all, for good fare lessens care: but sometimes it happens, that we are two daies without eating, except it be the ayre that blowes on us. All this may be borne (quoth he of the wood) with the hope we have of reward: for if the Knight Errant whom a Squire serves, be not two unfortunate, he shall, with a little good hap, see himselfe rewarded with the government of some Island, or with a reasonable Earle∣dome.

I (said Sancho) have often told my Master, that I would content my self with the government of any Island, and hee is so Noble and Liberall, that hee hath often promised it me. I (said hee of the Wood) for my services would bee satisfied with some Canonrie which my Master too hath promised me.

Your Master indeed (said Sancho) belike is an Ecclesiasticall Knight, and may doe his good Squires these kindenesses; but my Master is meerly Lay, though I remember that some persons of good discretion (though out of bad intention) counselled him, that hee should bee an Arch-Bishop; which hee would not bee, but an Emperour: and I was in a bodily fear, lest hee might have a minde to the Church, because I held my self uncapable of benifits by it: for let me tell you, though to you I seem a man, yet in Church matters I am a very beast. Indeed Sir (said hee of the Wood) you are in the wrong; for your Island-Governments are not all so speciall, but that some are crab∣bed, some poor, some distastefull; and lastly, the stateliest and best of all brings with it a heavy burden of cares and inconveniences, which hee (to whom it falls to his lot) undergoes. Farre better it were that wee who professe this cursed slavery, retire home, and there entertain our selves with more delightfull exercises, to wit, hunt∣ing and fishing; for what Squire is there in the World so poor that wants his Nag, his brace of Gray-Hounds, or his Angle-rod, to passe his time with at his Village?

I want none of this (said Sancho:) true it is, I have no Nag; but I have an Asse worth two of my Masters Horse; An ill Christmas God send me (and let it bee the next ensuing) if I would change for him, though I had four bushels of Barley to boot: you laugh at the price of my Dapple, for Dapple is the colour of mine Asse: Well, Gray-Hounds I shall not want neither, there being enough to spare in our Town; besides, the sport is best at another mans charge.

Indeed, indeed, Sir Squire (said hee of the Wood) I have proposed and determined with my self to leave these bezelings of these Knights, and return to my Village, and bring up my Children; for I have three like three Orient pearls. Two have I (said Sancho) that may been presented to the Pope in person, especially one, a W••nch, which I bring up to bee a Count esse (God save her) although it grieve her mo∣ther. And how olde (asked hee of the Wood) is this Lady-Countesse that you bring up so?

Fifteen, somewhat under or over (said Sancho) but shee is as long as a Launce, and as fresh as an Aprill- morning, and as sturdie as a Porter. These are parts (said hee of the Wood) not only for her to bee a Countesse, but a Nymph of the Greeny Grove: Ah whoreson, whore, and what a sting the Quean hath! To which (quoth Sancho, somewhat musty) shee is no Whore, neither was her Mother before her; and none of them (God willing) shall bee, as long as I live; and I pray Sir speak more mannerly; for these speeches are not consonant from you that have been brought up amongst Knights Errant, the flowres of courtesie: Oh (said hee of the Wood) Sir Squire, how you mistake, and how little you know what belongs to praising: what? have you never observed, that when any Knight in the Market-place gives the Bull a sure thrust, with his Launce, or when any body doth a thing well, the common people use to say, Ah whoreson whoremaster, how bravely hee did it? so that that which seems to bee a dispraise, in that sence is a notable commendation; and renounce you those sonnes and daughters that doe not the works that may make their Parents deserve such like praises. I doe renounce (said Sancho) and if you meant no otherwise, I pray you clap a whole Whore-house at once upon my Wife and Children; for all they doe or say, are extreams worthy of such praises, and so I may see them, God deliver me out of this mortall sinne, that is out of this dangerous profession of being a Squire, into which this second time I have incurr'd, being inticed and deceived with the Purse of the hundred Duckats which I found one day in the heart of Sierra Morena, and the Devill cast that bag of Pistolets before mine eyes: me thinks every foot I touch it, hugg it, and carrie it to mine house, set Leas••s, and Rents, and live like a Prince; and still when I think of this, all the toyle that I passe with this Block-head, my Ma∣ster,

seemes easie and tolerable to mee, who, I know, is more Mad-man then Knight.

Hereupon (said he of the Wood) it is said; that, All covet, all lose: And now you talke of mad-men, I thinke, my Master is the greatest in the world, he is one of them that cries, Hang s••rrow; and that another Knight may recover his wits, hee'l make himselfe mad, and will seeke after that, which perhaps once found, will tumble him upon his snowt. And is he amorous haply? Yes (sayd he of the Wood) hee loves one Casildea de Vandalia, the most raw and most rosted Lady in the world; but she halts not on that foot of her rawnesse, for other manner of impostures doe grunt in those entrailes of hers, which ere long will be knowne.

There is no way so plaine (quoth Sancho) that hath not some rubbe, or pit, or as the Proverbe goes; In some houses they seethe beanes, and in mine whole kettles full. So madnesse hath more companions, and more needie ones then wisedome. But if that which is commonly spoken be true, that to have companions in misery is a lightner of it, you may comfort me, that serve as sottish a Master as I doe. Sottish but valiant, (answered he of the wood) but more knave then foole or then valiant. It is not so with my Master, said Sancho: for he is ne're a whit knave; rather he is as dull as a Beetle, hurts no-body, does good to all, he hath no malice, a childe will make him beleeve 'tis night at noon day: and for his simplicity, I love him as my heart∣strings, and cannot finde in my heart to leave him for all his fopperies. For all that, Brother and friend, (said he of the wood) if the blinde guide the blinde, both will be in danger to fall into the pit.

'Tis better to retire faire and softly, and returne to our loved homes: for they that hunt after Adventures, doe not alwaies light upon good Sancho spit often, and as it seemed, a kinde of glewy and dry matter: which noted by the charitable wooddy Squire, he said, Me thinkes with our talking our tongues cleave to our roofes: but I have suppler hangs at the pummel of my horse as good as touch: And rising up, hee returned presently with a Borracha of Wine, and a bak'd meat at least half a yard long; and it is no lye; for it was of a perboyled Cony so large that Sancho, when he felt it, thought it had been of a Goat, and not a Kid: which being seen by Sancho, hee said, And had yee this with you too Sir? Why, what did yee think (said the other?) Doe you take me to bee some hungrie Squire? I have better provision at my horses crup∣per then a Generall carries with him upon a Martch. Sancho fell to without invitation, and champed his bits in the dark, as if he had scraunched knotted cords, and said, I marry Sir, you are a true legall Squire, round and sound, royall and liberall (as appears by your feast) which if it came not hither by way of inchantment, yet it seems so at least, not like mee unfortune wretch, that only carry in my Wallets a little Cheese, so hard that you may breake a Gyants head with it, and only some dozens of Saint Iohns Weed leaves, and some few Wall-nuts and Small-nuts (plentie in the strictnesse of my Master and the opinion hee hath) and the method hee observes, that Knights Errant must only bee maintained and susteined only with a little dry fruit and sallets. By my faith Bro∣ther (replied hee of the Wood) my stomack is not made to your thistles nor your stalks, nor your mountain-roots: let our Masters deale with their opinions and their Knightly Statutes, and eate what they will, I have my cold meats, and this bottle hanging at the pommel of my saddle, will hee or nill hee; which I reverence and love so much, that a minute passeth not, in which I give it not a thousand kisses and embraces: which said, he gave it to Sancho, who rearing it on end at his mouth, looked a quarter of an hour together upon the starres; and when hee had ended his draught hee held his neck on one side, and fetching a great sigh, cries, Oh whoreson Rascall, how Catholike it is? I aw yee there (said hee of the wood, in hearing Sancho's whoreson) how you have praised the wine in calling it whoreson. I say, quoth Sancho, that I confesse I know it is no dishonour to call any body whoreson, when their is a meaning to praise him. But tell me Sir, by the remembrance of her you love best, is this wine of Cinidad Reall? [A place in Spain that hath excellent Wines.] A brave taste, said hee of the wood; it is no lesse; and it is of some yeers standing too. Let mee alone, said Sancho, you could

not but think I must know it to the height. Doe you think it strange, Sir Squire, that I should have so great and so naturall an instinct in distinguishing betwixt wines, that comming to smell any wine, I hit upon the place, the grape, the savour, the lafting, the strength, with all circumstances belonging to wine? But no marve••l, if in my linage by my fathers side, I had two of the most excellent tasters that were known in a long time in Mancha: for proof of which you shall know what befell them.

They gave to these two some wine to taste out of a Hogs-head, asking their opi∣nions, of the state, qualitie, goodnesse or badnesse of the wine: the one of them proved it with the tip of his tongue, the other only smelt to it. The first said, that that wine savoured of yron. The second said, Rather of goats leather. The owner pro∣tested the, Hogshead was cleane, and that the wine had no kinde of mixture, by which it should receive any savour of yron or leather. Notwithstanding, the two fa∣mous tasters stood to what they had said. Time ran on, the wine was sold, and when the vessell was cleansed, there was found in it a little key•• with a leatherne thong han∣ging at it. Now you may see, whether he that comes from such a race, may give his opinion in these matters.

Therefore I say to you (quoth he of the wood) let us leave looking after these Adventures, and since we have content, let us not seeke after dainties, but returne to our cottages, for there God will finde us, if it be his will. Till my Master come to Sa∣ragosa, I meane (quoth Sancho) to serve him, and then weele all take a new course. In fine, the two good Squires talked and drank so much, that it was fit sleepe should lay their tongues, and slake their thirst, but to extinguish, it was impossible; so both of them fastned to the nigh emptie bottle, and their meate scarce out of their mouthes, fell asleepe: where for the present wee will leave them, and tell what passed between the two Knights.

CHAP. XIV.

How the Adventure of the Knight of the Wood is prosecuted.

AMongst many discourses that passed between Don-Quixote and the Knight of the Wood, the Historie saies that hee of the Wood said to Don-Quixote, In brief, Sir Knight, I would have you know that my destinie, or to say better my election enamoured me upon the peer∣lesse Casildea de Vandalia; Peerlesse I call her, as being so in the greatnesse of her Stature, and in the extream of her being and beau∣tie: This Casildea I tell you of, repaid my good and virtuous de∣sires in employing me, as did the step-mother of Hercules, in many and different perils, promising me at the accomplishing of each one, in performing another, I should enjoy my wishes: but my labours have been so linked one upon another that they are numberlesse, neither know I which may bee the last to give an accomplishment to my lawfull desires.

Once shee commanded me to give desiance to that famous Gyantesse of Sevill, called the Giralda, who is so valiant and so strong (as being made of brasle and with∣out changing place) is the most moveable and turning woman in the world. I came, I saw, and conquered her, and made her stand still and keep distance; for a whole week together no windes blew but the North. Other whiles shee commanded me to lift up the ancient stones of the fierce Bulls of Guisando [As if wee should say, to remove the stones at Stonage in Wiltshire,] an enterprize sitter for Porters then Knights. Another time shee commanded me to goe down and dive in the Vault of Cabra (a fearfull and

unheard of attempt) and to bring her relation of all that was inclosed in that darke profunditie. I staid the motion of the Goralda, I waied the Buls of Guisando, I cast my selfe downe the steepe Cave, and brought to light the secrets of that bottome, but my hopes were dead, how dead? her disdaines still living, how living? Lastly, she hath now commanded mee, that I run over all the Provinces of Spaine, and make all the Knights Errant, that wander in them, confesse; That shee alone goes beyond all other women in beauty, and that I am the valiantest, and most enamoured Knight of the world: in which demand I have travelled the greatest part of Spaine, and have over∣come many Knights, that durst contradict mee. But that which I prize and esteeme most is. That I have conquer'd in single combat, that so famous Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha, and made him confesse that my Casildea is fayrer then his Dulcinea, and in this conquest only I make account, that I have conquer'd all the Knights in the world, because the aforesaid Don-Quixote hath conquered them all, and I having o∣vercome him, his fame, his glorie and his honour hath beene transferred and passed o∣ver to my person, and the Conqueror is so much the more esteemed, by how much the conquered was reputed, so that the innumerable exploits of Don-Quixote now mentio∣ned, are mine, and passe upon my account.

Don-Quixote, admired to heare the Knight of the Wood, and was a thousand times about to have given him the lie, and had his Thou Lyest, upon the point of his tongue; but hee defer'd it as well as hee could, to make him confesse with his owne mouth that he lyed, and so hee told him calmly; That you may have overcome (Sir Knight all the Knights Errant of Spaine, and the whole world, I grant yee; but that you have o∣vercome Don-Quixote de la Mancha, I doubt it; it may be some other like him, though few there bee so like. Why not? replyed hee of the Wood: I can assure you Sir, I fought with him, overcame and made him yield. Hee is a tall fellow, withered faced, lanke and dry in his limbes, somewhat hory, sharpe-nosed and crooked; his musta∣choes long, black and falne; hee marcheth under the name of The Knight of the sorrow∣full Countenance: hee presses the loine, and rules the bridle of a famous horse called Rozinante, and hath for the Mistrisse of his thoughts, one Dulcinea del Toboso, som∣times called Aldonsa Lorenso, just as mine, that because her name was Casilda, and of Andaluzia, I call her Casildea de Vandalia: And if all these tokens bee not enough to countenance the truth, here is my Sword that shall make incredulity it selfe be∣leeve it. Have patience good Sir Knight (quoth Don-Quixote) and heare what I shall say.

Know that this Don-Quixote you speake of, is the greatest friend I have in this world and so much that I may tell you, I love him as well as my selfe, and by the signes that you have given of him, so punctuall and certaine, I cannot but thinke it is hee whom you have overcome. On the other side, I see with mine eyes, and feele with my hands, that it is not possible it should be hee, if it bee not, that, as hee hath many Enchanters that bee his Enemies, especially one that doth ordinarily persecute him, there be some one that hath taken his shape on him, and suffered himselfe to bee overcome, to defraud him of the glory which his noble Chivalry hath gotten & laid up for him throughout the whole earth. And for confirmation of this, I would have you know, that these Enchan∣ters mine Enemies (not two daies since) transformed the shape and Person of the faire Dulcinea del Toboso, into a foule and base country wench, and in this sort belike they have transformed Don-Quixote, and if all this bee not sufficient to direct you in the truth, here is Don-Quixote himselfe, that will maintaine it with his Armes on foote or on horse back, or in what manner you please; and hee grasped his Sword, expecting what resolution the Knight of the Wood would take; who with a stayed voice answe∣red and said: A good Pay-master needes no surety; he that could once, Don-Quixote, overcome you when you were transformed, may very well hope to restore you to your former being. But because it becomes not Knights to doe their feats in the darke, like high-way Robbers and Ruffians, let us stay for the day, that the Sunne may behold our actions; and the condition of our combat shall bee, that hee that is therein over∣come, shall stand to the mercy of the Conqueror; who by his Victory, shall have power

to doe with him according to his will, so far as what he ordaineth shall bee fitting for a Knight.

I am over-joyed with this condition and agreement (quoth Don-Quixote.) And (this said) they went where their Squires were, whom they found snorting, and just as they were when sleep first stole upon them. They wakened them and comman∣ded they should make their Horses ready: For by Sunne-rising they meant to have a bloody and unequall single combat: At which newes Sancho, was astonish'd and amazed, as fearing his Masters safety, by reason of the Knight of the Wood's valour, which hee had heard from his Squire: But without any reply, the two Squires went to seek their Cattell, for by this the three horses and Dapple had smelt out one another, and were together.

By the way, hee of the Wood said to Sancho, You must understand Brother, that your Combatants of Andaluzia use, when they are Sticklers in any quarrell, not to stand idlely with their hands in their Pockets, whilest their friends are fighting. I tell you this, because you may know That whilest our Masters are at it, wee must skirmish too, and breake our Launces to shivers. This custome Sir Squire (answe∣red Sancho) may bee currant there, and passe amongst your Ruffians and Comba∣tants you talke of: But with your Squires that belong to Knights Errant, not so much as a thought of it; At least I have not heard my Master so much as speake a word of any such custome, and hee knowes without booke all the Ordinances of Knight Errantry. But let mee grant yee, that 'tis an expresse Ordinance that the Squires sight, whilest their Masters doe so; yet I will not fulfill that, but pay the penalty that shall bee imposed upon such peaceable Squires; for I doe not thinke it will bee above two pound of Waxe, [alluding to some penalties enjoyned by Confessors, to pay to burn in Candles in the Church] and I had rather pay them, for I know they will cost meo lesse then the lint that I shall spend in making Tents to cure my Head, which already I make account is cut and divided in two; besides, 'tis impossible I should fight, having never a Sword, and I never wore any.

For that (quoth he of the Wood) Ile tell you a good remedy, I have here two linnen bags of one bignesse, you shall have one, and I the other, and with these equall weapons, weele fight at bag-blowes, Let us doe so and you will (said Sancho) for this kind of fight will rather serve to dust, then to wound us. Not so said the other, for within the bags (that the wind may not carry them too and fro••) we will put halfe a dozen of delicate smooth pibbles, of equall weight, and so we may bag-baste one ano∣ther, without doing any great hurt. Look ye, body of my father (quoth Sancho) what Martins or sables-fur, or what fine carded-wooll he puts in the bags, not to beat out our brains, or make Privet of our bones; but know Sir, if they were silke balls, I would not fight; let our Masters fight, and heare on it in another world, let us drink and live, for time will be careful to take away our lives, without our striving to end them before their time and season, and that they drop before they are ripe. For all that (said hee of the Wood) we must fight halfe an houre. No, no (said Sancho) I will not be so discour∣teous and ungratefull, as to wrangle with whom I have eaten and drunk, let the oc∣casion be never so small, how much more I being without choller or anger, who the De∣vill can barely without these fight?

For this (said he of the Wood) Ile give you a sufficient cause, which is, that before we begin the combat, I will come me finely to you, and give you three or foure boxes, and strike you to my feet, with which I shall awake your choller, although it sleep like a Dormouse. Against this cut I have another (quoth Sancho) that comes not short of it; I will take me a good cudgell, and before you waken my choller, I will make you sleep so soundly with bastinadoing you, that you shall not wake but in another world, in which it shall be known, that I am not he that will let any man handle my face; and e∣very man looke to the shaft hee-shootes: And the best way were to let every mans choller sleep with him, for no man knows what's in another, and many come for wooll, that returne shorne; and God, in all times, blessed the Peace-makers, and ever cur∣sed the Quarreller; for if a Cat shut into a Roome, much baited and straightned, turne

to be a Lyon, God knowes what I that am a man may turne to: Therefore, from henceforward, Sir Squire, let me intimate to you, that all the evill and mischefe that shall arise from our Quarrell, bee upon your head. 'Tis well (quoth hee of the Wood) let it bee day and wee shall thrive by this.

And now a thousand sorts of painted Birds began to chirp in the Trees and in their different delightfull Tones, it seemed they bad good morrow, and saluted the fresh Aurora that now discovered the beauty of her face, thorow the gates and bay-win∣dows of the East, shaking from her locks an infinite number of liquid pearls, bathing the hearbs in her sweet liquor, that it seemed they also sprouted, and rained white and small pearls: the Willows did distill their savory Manna; the Fountains laughed; the Brooks murmured; the Woods were cheered; and the Fields were enriched with her comming.

But the brightnesse of the day scarce gave time to distinguish things, when the first thing that offered it self to Sancho's sight, was the Squire of the Woods nose, which was so huge that it did as it were shadow his whole body: It is said indeed that it was of an extraordinary bignesse, crooked in the middest, and all full of warts of a darkish green colour, like Berengene, and hung some two fingers over his mouth: This huge∣nesse, colour, warts, and crookednesse, did so disfigure his face, that Sancho in seeing him, began to lay about him backward and forward, like a young raw Ancient, and resolved with himself to endure two hundred boxes, before his choller should waken to fight with that Hobgoblin.

Don-Quixote beheld his opposite, and perceived that his Helmet was on and drawn, so that hee could not see his face; but hee saw that hee was well set in his body, though not tall: upon his armour hee wore an upper garment or Cassock, to see to, of pure cloth of gold, with many Moons of shining Looking-glasses spread about it, which made him appear very brave and gorgeous; a great plume of green feathers waved about his Hel∣met, with others white and yellow; his Launce which hee had reared up against a Tree was very long and thick, and with a steel pike above a handfull long. Don-Quixote observed and noted all, and by what hee had seen and marked, judged that the said Knight must needs bee of great strength: But yet hee was not afraid (like Sancho) and with a bold courage thus spoke to the Knight of the Looking-glasses: If your eager∣nesse to fight, Sir Knight, have not spent your courtesie, for it, I desire you to lift up your Visor a little, that I may behold whether the livelinesse of your face bee answer∣able to that of your disposition, whether vanquished or vanquisher you bee in this en∣terprize. Sir Knight (answered hee of the Looking-glasses) you shall have time and leisure enough to see me; and if I doe not now satisfie your desire, it is because I think I shall doe a great deal of wrong to the fair Casildea de Vandalia, to delay so much time as to lift up my Visor, till I have first made you confesse what I know you goe about. Well, yet while wee get a horse-back (Don-Quixote said) you may resolve mee whether I be that Don-Quixote whom you said you had vanquished.

To this I answer you (said hee of the Looking-glasses) You are as like the Knight I conquered, as one egge is to another: But, as you say, Enchanters persecute you, and therefore I dare not affirm whether you bee hee or no. It sufficeth (quoth Don-Quixote) for me, that you beleeve your being deceived: but that I may entirely satisfie you, let's to horse; for in lesse time then you should have spent in the lifting up your Visor (if God, my Mistris, and mine arme defend me) will I see your face; and you shall see that I am not the vanquished Don-Quixote you speake of.

And here cutting off discourse, to horse they goe, and Don-Quixote turn'd Rozin∣ante about to take so much of the Field as was fit for him, to return to encounter his enemie; and the Knight of the Looking-glasses did the like. But Don-Quixote was not gone twenty paces from him, when hee heard that hee of the Looking-glasses called him: So the two parting the way, hee of the Glasses said, Bee mindefull, Sir Knight, that the condition of our combat is, that the vanquished (as I have told you before) must stand to the discretion of the vanquisher. I know it (said Don-Quixote) so that

what is imposed and commanded the vanquished, bee within the bounds and limits of Cavallerie. So it is meant said hee of the Glasses.

Here Don Quixote saw the strange nose of the Squire, and hee did not lesse wonder at the sight of it then Sancho; insomuch that hee deemed him a Monster, or some new kinde of man not usuall in the world. Sancho that saw his Master goe to fetch his Career, would not tarrie alone with Nose autem, fearing that at one snap with t'others Nose upon his, their fray would bee ended, that either with the blow, or it, hee should come to ground: So hee ran after his Master, laying hold upon one of Rozinante's stirrop leathers; and when hee thought it time for his Master to turn back, hee said; I beseech your Worship, Master mine, that before you fall to your encounter, you help me to climbe up yon Cork-tree, from whence I may better, and with more de∣light then from the ground, see the gallant encounter you shall make with this Knight.

Rather Sancho (said Don Quixote) thou wouldest get aloft, as into a scaffold, to see the Bulls without danger. Let me deale truly (said Sancho) the ugly nose of that Squire hath astonish'd me, and I dare not come neer him. Such an one it is (said Don-Quixote) that any other but I might very well bee afraid of it; and therefore come and I'le help thee up.

Whilest Don-Quixote was helping Sancho up into the Cork tree, hee of the Look∣ing-glasses took up room for his Career, and thinking that Don-Quixote would have done the like, without looking for Trumpets sound, or any other warning signe, hee turned his horses reins (no better to see to, nor swifter then Rozinante) and with his full speed (which was a reasonable trot) hee went to encounter his enemie; but seeing him busied in the mounting of Sancho, hee held in his reins and stopped in the midst of his Career; for which his horse was most thankfull, as being unable to move. Don-Quixote who thought his enemie by this came flying, set spurs lustily to Rozinantes hin∣der flank, and made him poste in such manner, that the Story sayes, now only hee seemed to run, for all the rest was plain trotting heretofore. And with this unspeakable furie he came where he of the Looking-glasses was gagging his spurs into his horse to the very hoops, without being able to remove him a fingers length from the place where he had set up his rest for the Career.

In this good time and conjucture Don-Quixote found his contrary puzzled with his horse, and troubled with his Launce; for either hee could not, or else wanted time to set it in his rest. Don Quixote that never looked into these inconveniences, safely and without danger encountred him of the Looking-glasses so furiously, that in spight of his teeth hee made him come to the ground from his horse crupper, with such a fall, that stirring neither hand nor foot, he made shew as if hee had been dead. Sancho scarce saw him down, when hee slid from the Cork-tree, and came in all haste to his Master, who dismounted from Rozinante, got upon him of the Looking-glasses, and unlacing his Helmet to see if hee were dead, or if hee were alive, to give him aire, hee saw (who can tell without great admiration, wonder, and amaze to him that shall heare it) hee saw (sayes the History) the selfe same face, the same visage, the same aspect, the same phi∣siognomie, the same shape, the same perspective of the Bachelor Samson Carrasco; and as hee saw it, hee cryed aloud, Come Sancho, and behold what thou mayest see, and not beleeve; run whoreson, and observe the power of Magick, what Witches and En∣chanters can doe.

Sancho drew neere, and saw the Bachelour Samson Carrasco's face, and so began to make a thousand crosles, and to blesse himself as oft. In all this while the overthrowne Knight made no shew of living. And Sancho said to Don-Quixote, I am of opinion, Sir, that by all meanes you thrust your sword down this fellowes throte, that is so like the Bachelour Samson Carrasco, and so perhaps in him, you shall kill some of your enemies the Enchanters. 'Tis not ill advised (quoth Don-Quixote.) So drawing out his sword, to put Sancho's counsell in execution, the Knights Squire came in, his nose being off, that had so dis-figured him, and sayd aloud: Take heede, Sir Don-Quixote, what you doe; for hee that is now at your mercy, is the Bachelor Samson Carrasco your friend, and I his Squire.

Now Sancho seeing him without his former deformity, said to him, And your nose? To which he answered, Here it is in my pocket: and putting his hand to his right side, hee pulled out a pasted nose, and a varnisht vizard, of the manifacture described. And Sancho more and more beholding him, with a loud and admiring voyce said, Saint Mary defend me: and is not this Thomas Ceciall my neighbour and my Gossip? And how say you by that (quoth the un-nosed Squire?) Thomas Ceciall I am, Gos∣sip and friend Sancho, and streight I will tell you, the conveyances, sleights and tricks that brought mee hither: in the meane time request and intreat your Master, that he touch not, misuse, wound or kill the Knight of the Looking-glasses, now at his mercy; for doubtlesse it is the bold and ill-advized Bachelor Samson Carrasco our Country∣man.

By this time the Knight of the Looking-glasses came to himself, which Don-Quixote seeing, hee clapt the bare point of his sword upon his face, and said, Thou diest, Knight, if thou confesse not, that the peerlesse Dulcinea del Toboso excells your Casildea de Vandalia in beauty: and moreover, you shall promise (if from this battell and fall you remaine with life) to goe to the Citty of Toboso, and present your selfe from me before her, that she may dispose of you as she pleaseth: and if she pardon you, you shall returne to me; for the tracke of my exploits will bee your guide, and bring you where I am, to tell mee what hath passed with her. These conditions (according to those wee agreed on before the battell) exceed not the limits of Knight Errantrie.

I confesse, said the faln-Knight, that the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso's torne and foul shooe, is more worth then the ill-combed haire (though cleane) of Casildea: and here I promise to goe and come from her presence to yours, and give entire and particular relation of all you require. You shall also confesse and beleeve (added Don-Quixote) that the Knight whom you overcame, neyther was, nor could bee Don-Quixote) de la Mancha, but some other like him, as I confesse and beleeve, that you, although you seem to be the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, are not he, but one like him, and that my e∣nemies have cast you into his shape, that I may with-hold and temper the force of my choller, and use moderately the glory of my conquest. I confesse, judge, and allow of all as you confesse, judge, and allow (answered the backe-broken Knight.) Let me rise, I pray you, if the blow of my fall will let me; for it hath left me in ill case. Don Quixote helped him to rise, and Thomas Cecial his Squire, on whom Sancho still cast his eyes, asking him questions, whose answers gave him manifest signes, that he was Thomas Cecial indeed, as he said, but the apprehension that was made in Sancho, by what his Master had said, that the Enchanters had changed the forme of the Knight of the glasses into Samson Carrasco's, made him not beleeve what he saw with his eyes. To conclude, the Master and Man remained still in their errour: and he of the glasses and his Squire very moody and ill Errants, left Don-Quixote, purposing to seeke some towne where he might seare-cloth himself, and settle his ribbes. Don-Quixote and Sancho held on their way to Saragosa, where the story leaves them, to tell who was the Knight of the Glasses and his Nosie Squire.

CHAP. XV.

Who the Knight of the Looking-glasses and his Squire were.

DOn-Quixote was extreamly contented, glad and vain-glorious, that hee had subdued so valiant a Knight as hee imagined hee of the Looking-glasses was, from whose Knightly word hee hoped to know if the Enchantment of his Mistris were certain, since of necessity the said vanquished Knight was to return (on pain of not being so) to re∣late what had hapned unto him: but Don Quixote thought one thing, and he of the Glasses another, though for the present hee minded nothing, but to seek where hee might sear-cloth himself: The History then tels us, that when the Bachelor Samson Carrasco advised Don Quixote to prosecute his forsaken Cavallery, hee entred first of all into counsell with the Vicar and the Bar∣ber to know what means they should use, that Don-Quixote might bee perswaded to stay at home peaceably and quietly, without troubling himself with his unluckie Ad∣ventures; from which counsail by the common consent of all, and particular opinion of Carrasco, it was agreed, That Don-Quixote should abroad again, since it was im∣possible to stay him; And that Samson should meet him upon the way like a Knight Errant, and should fight with him, since an occasion would not bee wanting, and so to overcome him, which would not bee difficult, and that there should bee a covenant and agreement, that the vanquished, should stand to courtesie of the vanquisher, so that Don-Quixote being vanquished, the Bachelor Knight should command him to get him home to his Town and House, and not to stir from thence in two yeers after, or till hee should command him to the contrary; the which in all likelihood Don-Quixote once vanquished would infallibly accomplish, as unwilling to contradict or bee defective in the Laws of Knighthood, and it might so be, that in this time of sequestring, he might for∣get all his vanities, or they might finde out some convenient remedie for his madnesse. Carrasco accepted of it, and Thomas Cecial offered himself to bee his Squire, Sancho Panca's neighbour and Gossip, a merry knave and a witty. Samson armed himself, as you have heard, and Thomas Cecial fitted the false nose to his own, and afterwards hee clapt on his vizard, that hee might not bee known by his Gossip when they should meet: So they held on the same voyage with Don-Quixote, and they came even just as hee was in the Adventure of Deaths Waggon: And at last they lighted on them in the Wood, where what befell them, the discreet Reader hath seen, and if it had not been for the strange opinion that Don Quixote had, that the Bachelor was not the selfe-same man, hee had been spoyled for ever, for taking another Degree since hee mist his mark.

Thomas Cecial that saw what ill use hee had made of his hopes, and the bad effect that his journey took, said to the Bachelor; Truely Master Samson wee have our deserts; things are easily conceived, and enterprizes easily undertaken, but very hardly perfor∣med. Don Quixote mad; we wife; but he is gone away sound and merry; you are here bruised and sorrowfull; let us know then who is the greatest mad-man, he that is so and cannot doe withall, or he that is so for his pleasure? The difference (quoth Samson) that between these mad-men is, that he that of necessity is so, will alwaies remain so; & he that accidentally is so, may leave it when hee will. Since it is so (said Thomas Cecial) I that for my pleasure was mad, when I would needs bee your Squire; for the same reason I will leave the Office and return home to my own house. 'Tis fit you should (said Samson) yet to think that I will doe so till I have soundly banged Don Quixote is vain; and now I goe not about to restore him to his wits, but to revenge my self on him; for the intollerable pain I feel in my ribs will not permit mee a more charitable discourse. Thus they two went on parlying, till they came to a Town where by chance they lighted

upon a Bone-setter, who cured the unfortunate Samson. Thomas Cecial went home and left him, and hee stayed musing upon his revenge: and the History hereafter will return to him, which at present must make merry with Don Quixote.

CHAP. XVI.

What befell Don-Quixote with a discreet Gentleman of Mancha.

DOn-Quixote went on his journey with the joy, content and glad∣nesse as hath been mentioned, imaging that for the late victory hee was the most valiant Knight that that age had in the world, he made account that all adventures that should from thence for∣ward befall him, were brought to a happy and prosperous end: he cared not now for any Enchantments, or Enchanters; hee for∣got the innumerable bangs that in the prosecution of his Chivalry had been given him, & the stones cast, that strook out half his teeth, and the unthankfullnesse of the Gally-slaves, and the boldnesse and showres of stakes of the Yangueses.

In conclusion hee said to himself, that if hee could finde any Art, Manner, or Means how to disinchant his Mistris Dulcinea, he would not envie the greatest happines or prosperity that ever any Knight Errant of former times had obtained.

Hee was altogether busied in these imaginations, when Sancho told him: How say you Sir, that I have still before mine eyes that ill-favoured, more then ordinary, nose of my Gossip Thomas Cecial? And doe you hapily Sancho, think that the Knight of the Looking Glasses was the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, and his Squire Thomas Cecial your Gossip? I know not what to say to it (quoth Sancho) only I know, that the tokens hee gave me of my House, Wife, and Children, no other could give um me but he; and his face (his nose being off) was the same that Thomas Cecials, as I have seen him many times in our Town, and next house to mine; and his voyce was the same. Let us bee reasonable Sancho (quoth Don Quixote:) Come hither: How can any man imagine that the Bachelor Samson Carrasco should come like a Knight Errant, arm'd with Armes offensive and defensive, to fight with me? Have I ever given him occasion, that hee should dog me? Am I his Rivall? or is hee a professor of Arms, to envie the glory that I have gotten by them? Why, what should I say (answered Sancho) when I saw that Knight (bee hee who hee will) looke so like the Bachelor Carrasco, and his Squire to Thomas Cecial my Gossip? and if it were an Enchantment (as you say) were there no other two in the World they might look like? All is jug∣ling and cunning (quoth Don Quixote) of the Wicked Magicians that persecute me, who fore-seeing that I should remain Victor in this Combat, had provided that the vanquisht Knight should put on the shape of my friend Carrasco, that the friendship I beare him might mediate betwixt the edge of my Sword and the rigour of my arme, and temper my hearts just indignation; and so, that hee might escape with his life, that with tricks and devices sought to take away mine: For proof of which, oh Sancho! thou knowest by experience, that will not let thee lye or be deceived, how easie it is for Enchanters to change one face into another, making the beautifull deformed, and the deformed beautifull; and it is not two dayes, since with thine own eyes thou sawst the beauty and livelinesse of the peerlesse Dulcinea in its perfection and naturall confor∣mitie, and I saw her in the foulnes and meanesse of a course Milk-maid, with bleare-eyes and stinking breath, so that the perverse Enchanter that durst cause so wicked a Meta∣morphosis, 'tis not much that hee hath done the like in the shapes of Samson Carrasco

and Thomas Cecial, to rob me of the glory of my conquest. Notwithstanding I am of good comfort; for in what shape soever it were, I have vanquished mine enemy. God knowes all (said Sancho) and whereas hee knew the transformation of Dulcinea had beene a tricke of his, his Masters Chimera's gave him no satisfaction: but he durst not reply a word, for feare of discovering his cozenage.

Whilest they were thus reasoning, one overtooke them that came their way, up∣on a faire flea-bitten Mare, upon his backe a riding coate of fine greene cloth, wel∣ted with tawny Velvet, with a Hunters cap of the same; his Mares furnitur was for the field, and after the Genet fashion, of the said tawny and greene, he wore a Moorish Semiter, hanging at a broad Belt of greene and gold, his buskins were wrought with the same that his belt was, his spurs were not gilt, but layd on with a greene varnish, so smooth and burnisht, that they were more sutable to the rest of his clothes, then if they had beene of beaten gold. Comming neere, he saluted them courteously, and spurring his Mare, rode on: But Don-Quixote said to him, Gallant, if you goe our way, and your haste be not great, I should take it for a favour that wee might ride together. Truly Sir, said he with the Mare, I should not ride from you, but that I feare your horse will bee unruly with the company of my Mare. You may well, Sir (said Sancho) you may well reyne in your Mare: for our horse is the honestest and maner∣liest horse in the world; he is never unruly upon these occasions; and once when hee flew out, my Master and I payed for it with a witnesse. I say againe, you may stay if you please, for although your Mare were given him betweene two dishes, he would not looke at her.

The Passenger held in his reines, wondring at Don-Quixotes countenance and po∣sture, who was now without his helmet, for Sancho carried it in a Cloke-bag at the pummell of Dapples pack-saddle: and if hee in the Greene did much looke at Don-Quixote, Don-Quixote did much more eye him, takeing him to be a man of worth; his age shewed him to bee about fifty, having few gray haires, his face was somewhat sharp, his countenance of an equall temper: Lastly, in his fashion and posture, hee see∣med to be a man of good quality. His opinion of Don-Quixote was, that hee had ne∣ver seene such a kinde of man before; the lanknesse of his horse, the talenesse of his owne body, the sparenesse and palenesse of his face made him admire; his armes, his gesture and composition, a shape and picture, as it were, had not beene seene (many ages before) in that Countrey.

Don-Quixote noted well with what attention the Traveller beheld him, and in his suspence read his desire, and being so courteous and so great a friend, to give all men content, before he demanded him any thing to prevent him, he said: This out∣side of mine that you have seene, Sir, because it is so rare and different from others now in use, may (no doubt) have bred some wonder in you: which you will cease, when I shall tell you, as now I doe, that I am a Knight, one of those (as you would say) that seeke their fortunes. I went out of my Countrey, engaged mine estate, left my pleasure, commited my selfe to the Armes of Fortune, to carry me whither she plea∣sed. My desire was to raise againe the dead Knight Errantry, and long agoe stumbling heere, and falling there, casting my selfe headlong in one place, and rising up in ano∣ther, I have accomplished a great part of my desire, succouring Widdowes, defending Damzels, favouring married women, Orphans, and distressed children (the proper and naturall office of Knights Errant) so that by my many valiant and Christian ex∣ployts, I have merited to be in the Presse, in all or most nations of the world: thirty thousand volumes of my History have been printed, and thirty thousand millions more are like to be if Heaven permit. Lastly, to shut up all in a word, I am Don-Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called, The Knight of the Sorrowfull Countenance: And though one should not praise himself, yet I must needs doe it, that is, there being none present that may doe it for me: so that, kinde Gentle-man, neither this horse, this lance, nor this shield, nor this Squire, nor all these armes together, nor the palenesse of my face, nor my slender macilency, ought henceforward to admire you, you know∣ing now who I am, and the profession I maintaine.

This sayd, Don-Quixote was silent, and hee with the greene Coat was a great while ere he could answer, as if hee could not hit upon't: but after some pause, hee sayd: You were in the right, Sir Knight, in knowing, by my suspension, my desire: but yet you have not quite remooved my admiration, which was caused with seeing you; for although that, as you say Sir, that to know who you are might make me leave wondring, it is otherwise rather, since now I know it, I am in more suspence and wonderment: And is it possible that at this day there bee Knights Errant in the world? and that there bee true Histories of Knighthood printed? I cannot perswade my self, that any now favor widows, defend Damzels, honour married Women, or suc∣cour Orphans; and I should never have beleeved it, if I had not in you beheld it with mine eyes: Blessed bee Heavens! for with this History you speak of, which is printed of your true and lofty Chivalrie, those innumerable falsities of fained Knights Errant will bee forgotten, which the world was full of, so hurtfull to good education and pre∣judiciall to true Stories.

There is much to bee spoken (quoth Don-Quixote) whether the Histories of Knights Errant were fained or true. Why, is there any that doubts (said hee in the Green) that they bee not false? I doe (said Don-Quixote;) and let it suffice; for if our Jour∣ney last, I hope in God to let you see that you have done ill, to bee led with the stream of them that hold they are not true. At this last speech of Don-Quixote the Traveller suspected hee was some Ideot, and expected when some others of his might con∣firm it: but before they should bee diverted with any other discourse Don-Quixote desired to know who hee was, since hee had imparted to him his condition and life. Hee in the Green made answer; I, Sir Knighs of the Sorrowfull Countenance, am a Gentleman borne in a Town, where (God willing) wee shall dine to day: I am well to live; my name is Don Diego de Miranda; I spend my life with my Wife and Chil∣dren, and Friends: my sports are Hunting and Fishing: but I have neither Hawk nor Gray-Hounds; only a tame Cock-Partridge, or a murthering Ferret; some six dozen of Books, some Spanish, some Latin, some History, others Devotion: Your Books of Knighthood have not yet entred the threshold of my door: I doe more turn over your Prophane Books then Religious, if they bee for honest recreation, such as may delight for their language, and admire and supend for their invention, although in Spain there bee few of these. Sometimes I dine with my neighbours and friends, and other whiles invite them: My Meals are neat and handsome, and nothing scarce: I neither love to back-bite my self, nor to hear others doe it: I search not into other mens lives, or am a Lynce to other mens actions: I heare every day a Masse; part my Goods with the Poor, without making a muster of my good Deeds, that I may not give way to hypocrisie and vain-glory to enter into my heart, enemies that easily seize upon the wariest brest: I strive to make Peace between such as are at Ods: I am de∣voted to our blessed Lady, and alwaies trust in Gods infinite Mercy.

Sancho was most attentive to this relation of the life and entertainments of this Gentleman, which seeming to him to be good and holy, and that he that led it worked miracles, hee flung himself from Dapple, and in great haste laid hold of his right stir∣rop, and with the tears in his eyes often kissed his feet; which being seen by the Gentleman, he asked him, What doe you Brother? Wherefore be these kisses?

Let me kisse (quoth Sancho) for, me thinks, your Worship is the first Saint that in all the dayes of my life I ever saw a horse-back. I am no Saint (said hee) but a great Sinner: you indeed brother are, and a good Soul, as your simplicitie shews you to bee. Sancho went again to recover his Pack-saddle, having (as it were) brought into the Market-place his Masters laughter out of a profound melancholy, and caused a new admiration in Don Diego.

Don-Quixote asked him how many sonnes hee had; who told him, that one of the things in which the Philosophers Summum Bonum did consist (who wanted the true knowledge of God) was in the goods of Nature, in those of Fortune; in having many Friends, and many and virtuous Children. I, Sir Don-Quixote (answered the Gentle∣man have a son, whom if I had not, perhaps you would judge me more happy then I am,

not that he is so bad but because not so good as I would have him: he is about eighteen yeers of age, sixe of which he hath spent in Salamenca, learning the tongues, Greeke and Latine, and when I had a purpose that he should fall to other Sciences, I found him so besotted with Poesy, and that Science (if so it may be called) that it is not possible to make him look upon the Law (which I would have him study) nor Divinity the Queen of all Sciences. I would he were the Crown of all his linage, since wee live in an age, wherein our King doth highly reward good learning: for learning without goodnesse, is like a pearle cast in a Swines-snout; all the day long he spends in his Critiscismes, whe∣ther Homer said well or ill in such a verse of his Iliads, whether Martial were bawdie or no in such an Epigram, whether such or such a verse in Virgil ought to be understood this way or that way. Indeed all his delight is in these aforesaid Poets, and in Horace, Persius, Iuvenal, and Tibullus; but of modern writers he makes small account: yet for all the grudg he beares to modern Poesie, he is mad upon your catches, and your glossing upon four verses, which were sent him from Salamanca, and that I think is his true study.

To all which Don-Quixote answered; Children Sir, are peeces of the very entrails of their Parents, so let them bee good or bad they must love them, as wee must love our spirits that give us life: It concernes their Parents to direct them, from their in∣fancie, in the paths of virtue, of good manners, and good and Christian exercises, that when they come to yeeres, they may bee the staffe of their age, and the glory of their posteritie; and I hold it not so proper, to force them to study this or that Science, though to perswade them were not amisse, and though it bee not to studie to get his bread (the Student being so happy, that God hath given him Parents able to leave him well) mine opinion should bee, that they let him follow that kinde of study hee is most inclined to, and though that of Poetry be lesse profitable then delightfull, yet it is none of those that will dishonor the Professor.

Poetry, Signior, in my opinion; is like a tender Virgin, Young and most Beau∣tifull, whom many other Virgins, to wit, all the other Sciences, are to enrich, po∣lish and adorne; shee is to bee served by them all, and all are to bee authorized by her: but this Virgin will not bee handled and hurried up and downe the streetes, nor pub∣lished in every market-nooke, nor Court-corners. She is made of a kinde of Alchy∣mie, that hee that knowes how to handle her, will quickly turne her into the purest gold of inestimable value, hee that enjoyeth her must hold her at distance, not letting her lash out in uncleane Satyres, nor in dull Sonnets, shee must not by any meanes bee vendible, except in Heroick Poems, in lamentable Tragedies, or Pleasant and artifi∣ciall Comedies: Shee must not bee medled with by Jesters, nor by the ignorant vulgar, uncapable of knowing or esteeming the Treasures that are locked up in her; and thinke not, Sir, that I call here only the common-people vulgar, for whosoever is ignorant, bee hee Potentate or Prince, hee may and must enter into the number of the vulgar: So that hee who shall handle and esteeme of Poetry with these Requisites I have declared, hee shall bee famous, and his name shall be extolled in all the Politique nations of the world.

And whereas Sir, your sonne neglects moderne Poesie, I perswade my selfe hee doth not well in it, and the reason is this: Great Homer never wrote in Latine, be∣cause hee was a Grecian; nor Virgill in Greeke, because hee was a Latine: Indeede all your ancient Poets wrote in the Tongue which they learnt from their Cradle, and sought not after strange languages to declare their lofty conceits. Which being so, it were reason this Custome should extend it selfe through all Nations, and that your Germane Poet should not bee under valued, because hee writes in his language, nor the Castilian, or Biscayner, because they writ in theirs: But your sonne (as I suppose) doth not mislike moderne Poesie, but Poets that are meerely moderne, without know∣ledge of other Tongues or Sciences, that may adorne, rowze up, and strengthen their natural impulse, and yet in this there may be an error. For it is a true opinion, that a Poet is born so; the meaning is, A Poet is naturaly born a Poet from his mothers womb, and with that inclination that heaven hath given him, without further Study or Art, he composeth things, that verifie his saying that said, Est Deus in nobis, &c.

Let me also say, that the naturall Poet, that helps himself with Art, shall bee much better, and have the advantage of that Poet that only out of his Art strives to bee so; the reason is, because Art goes not beyond Nature, but only perfects it; so that Na∣ture and Art mixt together, and Art with Nature, make an excellent Poet: Let this then bee the scope of my discourse Sir; let your Sonne proceed whither his Starre calls him: for if hee bee so good a Student, as hee ought to bee, and have happily mounted the first step of the Sciences, which is the Languages, with them (by himself) hee will ascend to the top of humane learning, which appears as well in a Gentleman, and doth as much adorn, honor, and ennoble him, as a Miter doth a Bishop, or a loose Cassock a Civilian. Chide your Sonne of hee write Satyrs that may prejudice honest men, punish him and teare them: But if hee make Sermons, like those of Horace, to the reprehen∣sion of Vice in generall, as hee so elegantly did, then cherish him, for it is lawfull for a Poet to write against Envie, and to enveigh against envious persons in his Verse, and so against other Vices, if so bee he aime at no particular person: But you have Poets that instead of uttering a jerk of wit, they will venture a being banished to the Islands of Pontus. If a Poet live honestly hee will bee so in his Verses; the pen is the mindes tongue; as the conceits are which bee ingendred in it, such will the writings bee; and when Kings and Princes see the miraculous Science of Poesie in wise, virtuous and grave Subjects, they honour, esteem, and enrich them, and even crown them with the leaves of that Tree which the thunder-bolt offends not [The Lawrell] in token that none shall offend them that have their temples honoured and adorned with such crowns. The Gentleman admired Don-Quixotes discourse, and so much, that now he forsook his opinion he had of him, that hee was a Coxcombe. But in the midest of this discourse Sancho (that was weary of it) went out of the way to beg a little Milk of some Sheepheards not farre off, curing of their Sheep: so the Gentleman still main∣tained talk with Don-Quixote, being wonderfully taken and satisfied with his wife discourse. But Don Quixote lifting up sodainly his eyes, saw that in the way toward them, there came a Cart full of the Kings Colours, and taking it to bee some rare Ad∣venture, hee called to Sancho for his Helmet. Sancho hearing himself called on, left the Sheepheards and spur'd Dapple apace, and came to his Master, to whom a rash and stupendious Adventure happened.

CHAP. XVII.

Where is shewed the last and extreamest hazard, to which the unheard of courage of Don-Quixote did or could arrive, with the prospe∣rous accomplishment of the Adventure of the Lyons.

THe Historie sayes, That when Don-Quixote called to Sancho, to bring him his Helmet, hee was buying curds which the Sheepheards sold him; and being hastily laid at by his Master, hee knew not what to doe with them, or how to bestow them without losing them; for hee had payed for them; so hee bethought himself, and clapt them into his Masters Helmet; and this good order taken, hee went to see what hee would have; who, when hee came, said, Give mee, friend, that same Helmet; for either I know not what belongs to Adventures, or that I see yonder is one that will force me to take Armes. Hee of the green coat that heard this, turned his eyes every way, and saw nothing but a Cart that came toward them with two or three small flags, which made him think that the said Cart car∣ried the Kings money, and so hee told Don-Quixote; but hee beleeved him not, alwaies

thinking that every thing hee saw was Adventure upon Adventure: so hee answered the Gentleman, Hee that is warn'd is halfe arm'd: there is nothing lost in being pro∣vided; for I know by experience, that I have enemies visible and invisible; and I know not when, nor where, nor at what time, or in what shape they will set upon me: and turning to Sancho, hee demanded his Helmet, who wanting leisure to take the curds out, was forced to give it him as it was. Don Quixote took it, and not perceiving what was in it, clapt it suddainly upon his head; and as the curds were squeazed and thrust together, the whay began to run down Don Quixote face and beard; at which hee was in such a fright, that hee cryed out to Sancho; What ayles me Sancho? for me thinks my skull is softned, or my brains melt, or that I sweat from top to toe; and if it bee sweat, I assure thee it is not for fear, I believe certainly that I am like to have a terrible Adventure of this; give me something, if thou hast it to wipe on; for this aboundance of sweat blindes me. Sancho was silent and gave him a cloth, and with it thanks to God, that his Master fell not into the businesse. Don Quixote wiped himself, and took off his Helmet to see what it was, that (as hee thought) did be num his head, and seeing those white splaches in his Helmet, hee put them to his nose, and smelling to them, said, By my Mistris Dulcinea del Toboso's life, they are curds that thou hast brought me here, thou base Traitor and unmannerly Squire. To which Sancho very cunningly, and with a great deale of pawse answered: If they bee curds, give them me pray, and I'le eate; but let the Devill eat um, for hee put um there: Should I bee so bold as to foul your Worships Helmet? and there you have found (as I told you) who did it. In faith Sir, as sure as God lives, I have my Enchanters too that persecute me as a crea∣ture and part of you, and I warrant have put that silth there to stir you up to choller, and to make you bang my sides (as you use to doe.) Well, I hope this time they have lost their labour; for I trust in my Masters discretion, that hee will consider that I have neither curds nor milk, nor any such thing; for if I had, I had rather put it in my stomack then in the Helmet. All this may bee (said Don Quixote.)

The Gentleman observed all, and wondred, especially when Don Quixote, after hee had wiped his Head, Face, Beard, and Helmet, clapt it on again, setling himself well in his stirrops, searching for his Sword and grasping his Launce, hee cryed out: Now come on't what will, for here I am with a courage to meet Satan himself in per∣son.

By this, the Cart with the flags drew neere, in which there came no man but the Carter with his Mules, and another upon the formost of them. Don-Quixote put himself forward, and asked; Whither goe ye, my masters? what Cart is this? what doe you carry in it? and what colours be these? To which the Carter answered, The Cart is mine, the Carriage is two fierce Lyons caged up, which the Generall of O∣ran sends to the King at Court for a Present: these Colours be his Majesties, in signe that what goes here is his. And are the Lyons bigge, said Don-Quixote? So bigge (said he that went toward the Cart dore) that there never came bigger out of Africa into Spaine, and I am their keeper, and have carried others, but never any so bigge: they are Male and Female, the Male is in this first grate, the Female in the hinder∣most, and now they are hungry, for they have not eat to day, and therefore I pray Sir give us way; for we had neede come quickly where wee may meate them. To which (quoth Don-Quixote smiling a little) Your Lyon whelps to me? to me your Lyon whelps? and at this time of day? Well, I vow to God, your Generall that sends um this way shall know, whether I be one that am afraid of Lyons, Alight, honest fellow, and if you be the Keeper, open their Cages, and let me your beasts forth; for I'le make um know in the middest of this Champion, who Don-Quixote is, in spight of those Enchanters that sent um. Fye, fye, (said the Gentleman at this instant to himself) our Knight shewes very well what he is, the Curds have softned his skull, and ripned his braines. By this Sancho came to him and sayd; for Gods love handle the matter so, Sir, that my Master meddle not with these Lyons; for if he doe they'l worry us all. Why, is your Master so mad (quoth the Gentleman) that you feare, or beleeve hee will fight with wilde beasts? Hee is nor mad, sayd Sancho, but hardy. I'le make

him otherwise, said the Gentleman, and comming to Don-Quixote, that was haste∣ning the Keeper to open the Cages, sayd, Sir Knight, Knights Errant ought to un∣dertake adventures, that may give a likelihood of ending them well, and not such as are altogether desperate: for valour grounded upon rashnesse, hath more madnesse then fortitude. How much more, these Lyons come not to assayle you, they are car∣ried to bee presented to his Majesty, and therefore 'twere not good to stay or hin∣der their journey. Pray get you gone, gentle Sir (quoth 'Don-Quixote) and deale with your tame Partridge, & your murdring Ferret, and leave every man to his function: this is mine, and I am sufficient to know whether these Lyons come against me or no: so turning to the Keeper, he cried: By this-goodman slave, [Voto a tal. When hee would seeme to sweare, but sweares by nothing.] if you doe not forthwith open the Cage, I'le nayle you with my Launce, to your Cart. The Carter that perceived the resolution of that armed Vision, told him, Seignior mine, will you be pleased in charity to set me unyoke my Mules, and to put my selfe and them in safety, before I un∣sheath my Lyons? for if they should kill them, I am undone all dayes of my life, for I have no other living but, this Cart and my Mules. O thou wretch of little Faith (quoth Don-Quixote) light, and unyoke, and doe what thou wilt, for thou shalt see thou mightest have saved a labour. The Carter alighted, and unyoked hastily, and the keeper cryed out aloud, Beare witnesse, my Masters all, that I am forced a∣gainst my will to open the Cages and to let loose the Lyons, and that I protest to this Gentleman, that all the harme and mischiefe that these Beasts shall doe light upon him; besides that he pay me my wages and due. Shift you Sirs for your selves, before I open, for I am sure they'l doe mee no hurt. The Gentleman perswaded him the second time, that he should not attempt such a piece of madnesse; for such a folly was to tempt God.

To which Don-Quixote answered, that he knew what he did. The Gentleman re∣plyed, That he should consider well of it, for he knew he was deceived. Well, Sir, (sayd Don-Quixote) if you will not be a spectator of this (which you thinke Tragedy) pray spurre your Flea-bitten, and put your selfe in safety. Which when Sancho heard, with teares in his eyes, he beseeched him to desist from that enterprize, in comparison of which, that of the Winde-Mils was Cake-bread, and that fearefull one also of the Fulling-Mill, or all the exployts that ever he had done in his life. Looke ye, Sir (said Sancho) heer's no Enchantment, nor any such thing; for I have looked thorow the grates and chinkes of the Cages, and have seene a clawe of a true Lyon, by which clawe I ghesse the Lyon is as big as a mountaine.

Thy feare at least (said Don-Quixote) will make him as big as half the world. Get thee out of the way Sancho, and leave me, and if I die in the place, thou knowest our agree∣ment, repayre to Dulcinea, and that's enough.

To these he added other reasons, by which he cut off all hope of his leaving the prose∣cution of that foolish enterprize.

He of the Green-coat would have hindred him, but he found himself unequally mat∣ched in weapons, and thought it no wisdome to deale with a mad man; for now 'Don-Quixote appeared no otherwise to him, who hastning the Keeper a fresh, and reiterating his threats, made the Gentleman set spurs to his Mare, and Sancho to his Dapple, and the Carter to his Mules, each of them striving to get as far from the Cart as they could, before the Lyons should be unhampered.

Sancho bewailed his Masters losse; for he beleeved certainly that the Lyon would catch him in his pawes, he cursed his fortune, and the time that ever he came again to his Masters service; but for all his wailing and lamenting, he left not punching of Dapple, to make him get far enough from the Cart.

The Keeper when he saw those that fled far enough off, began anew to require and intimate to Don-Quixote, what he had formerly done; who answered, That he heard him, and that he should leave his intimations, for all was needlesse, and that he should make haste.

Whilest the Keeper was opening the first Cage, Don-Quixot began to consider,

whether it were best to fight on foote or on horseback: And at last hee determined it should bee on foote, fearing that Rozinante would bee afraid to looke upon the Ly∣ons, and thereupon he leaped from his horse, cast by his Lance, buckled his Shield to him, and unsheathed his Sword fair and softly, with a marvelous courage and valiant heart, he martched toward the Cart, recommending himselfe first to God, and then to his Lady Dulcinea.

And here it is to bee noted, that when the Authour of the true Historie came to this passage, hee exclames and cries. O strong (and beyond all comparison) couragious Don Quixote! Thou Looking-glasse, in which all the valiant Knights of the World may behold themselves! Thou new and second Don Manuel de Leon, who was the Honour and Glorie of the Spanish Knights: With what words shall I re∣count this fearefull exployt? Or with what Arguments shall I make it credible to en∣suing times? Or what Praises shall not fit and square with thee? Though they may seeme Hyperboles above all Hyperboles? Thou on foote, alone, undaunted and ma∣gnanimous, with thy Sword only, and that none of your cutting Fox-blades, with a Shield, not of bright and shining steele, expectest and attendest two of the siercest Lyons that ever were bred in African Woods. Let thine owne Deedes extoll thee, brave Manchegan: For I must leave um here abruptly, since I want words to endere them.

Here the Authors exclamation ceased, and the thred of the Story went knitting it selfe on, saying.

The Keeper seeing Don-Quixote in his posture, and that hee must needes let loose the Male Lyon, on paine of the bold Knights indignation, hee set the first Cage wide open, where the Lyon (as is said) was, of an extraordinary bignesse, fearfull and ugly to see to. The first thing hee did, was to tumble up and downe the Cage, stretch one paw, and rowze himselfe; forthwith hee yawned, and gently sneezed, then with his Tongue some two handfulls long, hee licked the dust out of his eyes, and washed his face; which done, hee thrust his head out of the Cage and looked round about him, with his eyes like fire-coles; a sight and gesture able to make Temeritie it selfe afraid. Only Don-Quixote beheld him earnestly, and wished hee would leape out of the Cart, that they might grapple, for hee thought to slice him in peeces. Hitherto came the extreme of his not-heard-of madnesse: But the generous Lyon, more courteous then arrogant, neglecting such childishnesse and bravadoes, after hee had looked round a∣bout him (as is said) turned his back, and shewed his Tayle to Don-Quixote, and very quietly lay downe againe in the Cage. Which Don-Quixote seeing, hee com∣manded the Keeper to give him two or three blowes to make him come forth. No, not I (quoth the Keeper) for if I urge him, I shall bee the first hee will teare in pee∣ces. I pray you Sir Knight, bee contented with your dayes worke, which is as much as could in valour be done, and tempt not a second hazard. The Lyons door was open, he might have come out if hee would; but since hee hath not hitherto, hee will not come forth all this day. You have well shewed the stoutnesse of your courage: no brave Combatant (in my opinion) is tyed to more then to defie his Enemie, and to expect him in field; and if his contrary come not, the disgrace is his, and he that expected, re∣maines with the prize.

True it is (answered Don-Quixote) friend, shut the dore, and give mee a Certifi∣cate in the best forme that you can, of what you have seene mee doe here: to wit, That you opened to the Lyon, that I expected him and hee came not out; that I expected him againe yet all would not doe, but hee lay downe. I could doe no more. Enchant∣ments avant, God maintaine right and truth, and true Chivalrie: shut (as I bad you) whilest I make signes to them that are fled, that they may know this exployt from thy Relation. The Keeper obeyed, and Don-Quixote putting his handkerchief on the point of his Lance, with which hee had wiped the Curd-showre from off his face, hee began to call those that fled, and never so much as looked behind them, all in a Troope, and the Gentleman the fore-man: But Sancho seeing the white cloth said, Hang mee if my Master have not vanquished the wilde-Beasts, since hee calls us. All of them made a

stand, and knew it was Don-Quixote that made the signe: So lessening their fear, by little and little they drew neer him, till they could plainly heare that he called them. At length they returned to the Cart: And Don-Quixote said to the Carter, Yoake your Mules again brother, and get you on your way: and Sancho, give him two Pi∣stolets in gold, for him and the Lyon-keeper, in recompence of their stay. With a very good will (said Sancho:) But what's become of the Lyons? are they alive or dead? Then the Keeper fair and softly began to tell them of the bickering, extolling, as well as hee could, Don-Quixotes valour, at whose sight the Lyon trembling, would not, or durst not sallie from the Cage, although the door were open a prettie while, and that because he had told the Knight, that to provoke the Lyon, was to tempt God, by making him come out by force (as hee would that hee should bee provoked in spight of his teeth, and against his will) hee suffered the doore to bee shut. What think you of this Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote?) Can Enchantment now prevail against true Valour? Well may Enchanters make me unfortunate; but 'tis impossible they should bereave me of my Valour.

Sancho bestowed the Pistolets, and the Carter yoaked; the Keeper tooke leave of Don-Quixote, and thanked him for his kindnesse, and promised him to relate his va∣lorous exploit to the King himself, when hee came to Court. Well, if his Majestie chance to ask who it was that did it, tell him The Knight of the Lyons: for hencefor∣ward, I will that my name bee trucked, exchanged, turned and changed now from that I had of The Knight of the sorrowfull Countenance; and in this I follow the ancient use of Knights Errant, that would change their names when they pleased, or thought it convenient.

The Cart went on it's way, and Don-Quixote, Sancho, and hee in the green held on theirs. In all this while Don Diego de Miranda spoke not a word, being busied in no∣ting Don-Quixotes speeches and actions, taking him to bee a wise mad-man, or a mad-man that came somewhat neer a wise man: Hee knew nothing as yet of the first part of his History; for if hee had read that, hee would have left admiring his words and deeds, since hee might have known the nature of his madnesse: But (for hee knew it not) the held him to be wise, & mad by fits; for what he spoke was consonant, elegant, and well delivered; but his actions were foolish, rash, and unadvised; And (thought hee to himself) what greater madnesse could there bee, then to clap on a Helmet full of Curds, and to make us beleeve that Enchanters had softned his skull? or what greater rashnesse or fopperie, then forcibly to venture upon Lyons? Don-Quixote drew him from these imaginations, saying, Who doubts, Seignior Don Diego de Miranda, but that you will hold me in your opinion for an idle fellow, or a mad-man; and no mar∣vell that I bee held so; for my Actions testifie no lesse; for all that, I would have you know that I am not so mad, or so shallow as I seem: It is a brave sight to see a goodly Knight in the mid'st of the Market-place before his Prince, to give a thrust with his Launce to a fierce Bull: [In Spain they use with Horse-men and Foot-men to course their Bulls to death in the Market-places.] And it is a brave sight to see a Knight armed in shining Armor passe about the Tilt-yard at the cheerfull Justs before the Ladies; and all those Knights are a brave sight that in Militarie exercises (or such as may seem so) doe entertain, revive, and honour their Princes Courts: but above all these, a Knight Errant is a better sight, that by Desarts and Wildernesses, by Crosse-waies and Woods, and Mountains, searcheth after dangerous Adventures, with a purpose to end them happily and fortunately, only to obtain glorious and lasting Fame. A Knight Errant (I say) is a better sight, succouring a Widdow in some Desart, then a Court Knight courting some Damzell in the Citie. All Knights have their particular exer∣cises: Let the Courtier serve Ladies, authorize his Princes Court with Liveries, su∣stain poor Gentlemen at his Table, appoint Justs, maintain Tourneyes, shew himself. Noble, Liberall, and Magnificent; and above all, Religious: and in these hee shall accomplish with his obligation. But for the Knight Errant, let him search the corners of the World; enter the most intricate Labyrinths; every foot undertake Impossi∣bilities, and in the Desarts and Wildernesse: let him resist the Sunne-beams in the

midest of Summer, and the sharp rigor of the Windes and Frosts in Winter: Let not Lyons fright him, nor Spirits terrifie him, nor Hobgoblins make him quake; for to seeke these to set upon them, and to overcome all, are his prime exercises, And since it fell to my Lot to bee one of the number of these Knights Errant, I cannot but undergoe all that I thinke comes under the jurisdiction of my profession. So that the encountring those Lyons did directly belong to mee, though I knew it to bee an exor∣bitant rashnesse; for well I know that valour is a virtue betwixt two vicious extremes, as cowardise and rashnesse: but it is lesse dangerous for him that is valiant, to rise to a point of rashnesse, then to fall or touch upon the Coward. For as it is more easie for a Prodigall man to bee liberall then a covetous, so it is easier for a rash man to bee true∣ly valiant, then a Coward to come to true valour. And touching the on-set in Adven∣tures, beleeve me Signior Don Diego, it is better playing a good trump then a small, for it sounds better in the hearers eares. Such a Knights is rash and hardy, then such a Knight is fearfull and cowardly.

I say, Signior (answered Don Diego) that all that you have said and done is levelled out by the line of Reason, and I thinke if the Statues and Ordinances of Knight Er∣rantry were lost, they might bee found againe in your brest, as in their owne Storehouse and Register; and so let us haste for the day growes on us, let us get to my Village and House, where you shall ease your selfe of your former labour; which, though it have not beene bodily, yet it is mentall, which doth often redound to the bodies wearinesse. I thanke you for your kinde offer, Signior (quoth Don-Quixote) and spurring on faster, about two of the clock they came to the Villag and Don Diego's House, whom Don-Quixote stiled, The Knight of the green-Cassock.

CHAP. XVIII.

What hapned to Don-Quixote in the Castle, or Knight of the Green Cassock his house, with other extrravagant matters.

DOn-Quixote perceived that Don Diego de Miranda's house was spacious, after the Country manner; and his Armes (though of course stone) upon the door towards the street, his Wine-cellar in the Court, his other Cellar or Vault in the Entry, with many great stone Vessells round about that were of Toboso, which renewed the remembrance of his Enchanted and transformed Mistris Dulcinea; so sighing, and not minding who was by, hee said,

* 2.1 O happy pledges, found out to my losse, Sweet and reviving, when the time was, once!

Oh you Tobosian Tunnes, that bring to my remembrance the sweet pledge of my greatest bitternesse! The Scholler Poet, sonne to Don Diego, that came out with his Mother to welcome him, heard him pronounce this, and the Mother and sonne were in some suspence at the strange shape of Don Quixote, who alighting from Rozinante very courteously desired to kisse her hands: And Don Diego said; I pray Wife, give your wonted welcome to this Gentleman, Signior Don Quixote de la Mancha, a Knight Errant, and the valiantest and wisest in the world.

The Gentlewoman called Donna Christina welcomed him very affectionately, & with much courtesie, which Don Quixote retorted with many wise and mannerly comple∣ments, and did (as it were) use the same over again to the Scholler, who hearing

Don-Quixote speake, took him to be wondrous wise and witty. Here the Authour paints out unto us, all the circumstances of Don Diego his house, deciphering to us all that a Gentleman and a rich Farmers house may have: But it seemed good to the Translator to passe over these and such like trifles, because they suited not with the principall scope of this History, the which is more grounded upon truth, then upon bare digressions.

Don-Quixote, was led into a Hall; Sancho unarm'd him; so that now hee had no∣thing on but his Breeches and a Chamois Doublet, all smudged with the silth of his Ar∣mour: about his neck he wore a little Scholasticall Band, unstrach'd, and without lace; his Buskins were Date-coloured; and his Shooes close on each side: his good Sword hee gyrt to him, that hung at a Belt of Sea-Wolves skins; for it was thought hee had the running of the Reins many yeers; hee wore also a long Cloke of good russet-cloth: but first of all, in five or six Kettles of water (for touching the quantity there is some difference) hee washed his Head and his Face; and for all that the water was turned Whey-colour, God a mercy on Sancho's gluttony, and the buying those dismall black curds that made his Master so white with the aforesaid bravery, and with a sprightly air and gallantry, Don Quixote martched into another Roome, where the Scholler stayed for him to entertain him till the cloth was laid; for the Mistris of the house, Donna Christina, meant to shew to her honorable guest, that shee knew how to make much of them that came to her house.

Whilest Don-Quixote was disarming himself, Don Lorenzo had leisure (for that was Don Diego's sonnes name) to ask his Father, What doe you call this Gentleman Sir, that you have brought with you? for his name, his shape, and your calling him Knight Errant, makes my Mother and me wonder. Faith sonne (quoth Don Diego) I know not what I should say to thee of him; only I may tell thee, I have seen him play the madest pranks of any mad-man in the world, and speake again speeches so wise as blot out and undoe his Deeds; doe thou speake to him, and feel the pulse of his vnderstanding, and since thou art discreet, judge of his discretion or folly as thou seest best, though to deale plainly with thee, I rather hold him to bee mad then wise.

Hereupon Don Lorenzo, as is said, went to entertain Don-Quixote, and amongst other discourse that passed betwixt them, Don-Quixote said to Don Lorenzo; Signior Don Diego de Miranda your Father, hath told me of your rare abilities and subtill wit, and chiefly that you are an excel••ent Poet. A Poet perhaps (replyed Don Lorenzo) but excellent, by no means: true it is that I am somewhat affectionated to Poesie, and to read good Poets; but not so that I may deserve the name of excellent, that my Father stiles me with. I doe not dislike your modestie (quoth Don Quixote) for you have seldome times any Poet that is not arrogant, and thinks himself to bee the best Poet in the world. There is no rule (quoth Don Lorenzo) without an exception, and some one there is that is so, yet thinks not so. Few (said Don Quixote:) But tell me Sir; What Verses bee those that you have now in hand, that your Father sayes doe trouble and puzzle you? and if it bee some kinde of glosse, I know what belongs to glossing, and should bee glad to heare them; and if they be of your Verses for the Prize, content your selfe with the second reward; [De justa literaria: A custome in Vni∣versities in Spain, of rewards proposed to them that make the best Verses:] For the first goes alwayes by favour, or according the qualitie of the person; and the second is justly distributed; so that the third comes (according to this account) to bee the second, and the first the third, according to degrees that are given in Universities: but for all that the word first is a great matter.

Hitherto (thought Don Lorenzo to himself) I cannot think thee mad: Proceed we: and hee said; It seems Sir, you have frequented the Schooles; what Sciences have you heard? That of Knight Errantry (quoth Don Quixote) which is as good as your Poe∣try, and somewhat better. I know not what Science that is (quoth Don Lorenzo) neither hath it as yet come to my notice. 'Tis a Science (quoth Don-Quixote) that contains in it all, or most of the Sciences of the world, by reason that hee who professes

it, must bee skillfull in the Laws, to know Justice distributive and Commutative, to give every man his own and what belongs to him: hee must bee a Divine to know how to give a reason cleerly and distinctly of his Christian profession, wheresoever it shall bee demanded him: Hee must bee a Physician, and chiefly an Herbalist, to know in a Wildernesse or Desart, what hearbs have virtue to cure wounds; for your Knight Errant must not bee looking every pissing while who shall heale him: Hee must bee an Astronomer, to know in the night by the starres what a clock 'tis, and in what part and Climate of the world hee is: Hee must bee skillfull in the Mathematicks, because every foot hee shall have need of them: And to let passe that hee must bee adorned with all divine and morall virtues; descending to other trifles, I say hee must learn to swimme, as they say, fish Nicholas, or Nicolao did: Hee must know how to shooe a Horse, to mend a Saddle or Bridle: And comming again to what went before, hee must serve God and his Mistris inviolably: he must be chaste in his thoughts; honest in his words; liberall in his deeds; valiant in his actions; patient in afflictions; cha∣ritable towards the poor: and lastly, a defender of truth, although it cost him his life for it. Of all these great and lesser parts a good Knight Errant is composed, that you may see Signior Don Lorenzo, whether it be a sniveling Science that the Knight that learns it professeth, and whether it may not bee equalled to the proudest of them all taught in the Schooles.

If it bee so (said Don Lorenzo) I say this Science goes beyond them all. If it bee so (quoth Don-Quixote.) Why let me tell you (said Don Lorenzo) I doubt whether there be any Knights Errant now adorned with so many virtues. Oft have I spoken (replyed Don-Quixote) that which I must now speak again, that the greatest part of men in the world are of opinion, that there bee no Knights Errant; and I think, if Heaven doe not miraculously let them understand the truth, that there have been such, and that at this day there bee, all labour will bee in vain (as I have often found by experience:) I will not now stand upon shewing you your errour: all I will doe, is, to pray to God to deliver you out of it, and to make you understand how profitable and necessary Knights Errant have been to the world in former ages, and also would bee at present, if they were in request: But now, for our sinnes, sloth, idlenesse, gluttonie, and wanton∣nesse doe raigne. I faith (thought Don Lorenzo) for this once our guest hath scaped me: but for all that, hee is a lively Asse, and I were a dull foole if I did not be∣leeve it.

Here they ended their discourse, for they were called to dinner. Don Diego asked his sonne what tryall hee had made of their guests understanding; To which hee made answer; All the Physicians and Scriveners in the world will not wipe out his madnesse. Hee is a curious mad-man, and hath neat Dilemma's. To dinner they went, and their meat was such as Don Diego upon the way described it, such as hee gave to his guests, well drest, savory, and plentifull: But that which best pleased Don-Quixote, was the marvellous silence throughout the whole house, as if it had been a Covent of Carthu∣sians: So (that lifting up his eyes, and grace being said, and that they had washed hands) he earnestly intreated Don Lorenzo to speake his Prize-verses.

To which (quoth hee) because I will not bee like your Poets, that when they are over intreated, they use to make scruple of their works; and when they are not in∣treated, they vomit them up; I will speake my Glosse, for which I expect no reward, as having written them only to exercise my Muse. A wise friend of mine (said Don-Quixote) was of opinion, that to Glosse was no hard task for any man, the reason being, that the Glosse could ne'er come neere the Text, and most commonly the Glosse was quite from the Theame given; besides that, the Laws of Glossing were too strict, not admitting interrogations of Said he? or Shall I say? or changing No••••s into Verbs, without other ligaments and strictnesses to which the Glossor is tyed, as you know. Certainly Signior Don-Quixote (said Don Lorenzo) I desire to catch you in an absurdity, but cannot; for still you slip from me like an Eele. I know not (said Don-Quixote) what you mean by your slipping. You shall know my meaning (said Don Lorenzo;) but for the present I pray you hearken with attention to my glossed verses, and to the Glosse, as for example.

If that my Was, might turn to Is, If look't for't, then it comes compleat, Oh might I say, Now, now time 'tis, Our after-griefs may bee too great.

The Glose.

AS every thing doth passe away, So Fortunes good, that erst shee gave, Did passe, and would not with mee stay, Though shee gave once all I could crave: Fortune, 'tis long since thou hast seene Mee prostrate at thy feete (I wis) I shall bee glad (as I have beene) If that my Was returne to Is.

Vnto no honour am I bent, No Prize, Conquest, or Victorie, But to returne to my content, Whose thought doth grieve my memorie; If thou to mee doe it restore, Fortune; the rigour of my heate Allayed is, let it come, before I looke for't, then it comes compleat.

Impossibles doe I desire To make time past returne (in vaine) No Powre on Earth can once aspire (Past) to recall him back againe, Time doth goe, time runs and flies Swiftly, his course doth never misse, Hee's in an error then that cies, Oh might I say, Now, now, time 'tis.

I live in great perplexitie, Somtimes in hope, somtimes in feare, Farre better were it for to die, That of my griefs I might get cleere; For mee to die 't were better farre. Let mee not that againe repeat, Feare sayes, 'Tis better live long: for Our after-griefs may bee too great.

When Don Lorenzo had ended, Don-Quixote stood up and cried aloud, as if he had screecht, taking Don Lorenzo by the hand, and said; Assuredly, genetous youth, I think you are the best Poet in the world, and you deserve the Lawrell, not of Cyprus or Gaeta, as a Poet said (God forgive him) but of Athens, if it were extant, Paris, Bolonia and Salamanca: I would to God those Iudges that would denie you the prize might bee shot to death with arrowes by Phoebus, and that the Muses never come within their thresholds. Speak Sir, if you please, some of your loftier verses, that I may altogether feele the pulse of your admirable wit.

How say you by this, that Don Lorenzo was pleased, when hee heard himselfe thus praised by Don-Quixote, although he held him to bee a mad-man? O power of flat∣tery, how farre thou canst extend, and how large are the bounds of thy pleasing ju∣risdiction!

This truth was verified in Don Lorenzo, since hee condescended to Don-Quixotes request, speaking this following Sonnet to him, of the Fable or Story of Pyramus and Thisbe.

The wall was broken by the Virgin faire, That op't the gallant brest of Pyramus: Love parts from Cyprus, that hee may declare (Once seen) the narrow breach prodigious. There nought but silence speaks; no voyce doth dare, Thorow so strait a straight, be venturous; Yet their mindes speake, Love works this wonder rare, Facilitating things most wonderous.

Desire in her grew violent, and hast•• In the fond Maid, instead of hearts delight, Solicites death: See, ••ow the Story's past, Both of them in a moment (oh strange sight!)

One Sword, one Sepulchre, one Memorie, Doth kill, doth cover, makes them never die.

Now thanked bee God (quoth Don-Quixote, having heard this Sonnet) that a∣mongst so many consumed Poets as be, I have found one consummate, as you are, Sir, which I perceive by your well-framed Sonnet. Don-Quixote remained foure dayes (being well entertained) in Don Diego's house, at the end of which he desired to take his leave, and thanked him for the kindnesse and good wellcome he had received: but because it was not fit that Knights Errant should bee too long idle, hee purposed to exercise his Function, and to seeke after Adventures he knew of•• for the place whi∣ther hee meant to goe to, would give him plenty enough to passe his time with, till it were fit for him to goe to the Justs at Saragosa, which was his more direct course: but that first of all he meant to goe to Montesino's vault, of which there were so many admirable tales in every mans mouth: so to search and enquire the Spring and Origine of those seven Lakes, commonly called of Ruydera. Don Diego and his Sonne com∣mended his noble determination, and bid him furnish himselfe with what hee pleased of their house and wealth, for that hee should receive it with all love and good will; for the worth of his person, and his honourable profession obliged them to it.

To conclude, the day for his parting came, as pleasing to him, as bitter and sorrow∣full to Sancho, who liked wondrous well of Don Diego's plentifull provision, and was loth to returne to the hunger of the forrests and wildernesse, and to the hardnesse of his ill-furnisht wallets, notwithstanding hee filled and stuffed them with the best provision hee could. And Don-Quixote, as hee tooke his leave of Don Lorenzo, said; I know not, Sir, whether I have told you heretofore, but though I have, I tell you again, that when you would save a great deale of labour and paines, to arrive at the inacces∣sible top of Fames Temple, you have no more to doe, but to leave on one hand the straight and narrow path of Poesie, and to take the most narrow of Knight Errantry, sufficient to make you an Emperour, ere you would say, What's this?

With this Epilogue Don-Quixote shut up the Comedy of his madnesse, onely this hee added: God knowes, I would willingly carry Signior Don Lorenzo with me, to teach him, what belongs to pardoning the humble, to curbing and restraining the proud; virtues annexed to my profession: but since his slender age is not capable, and his lau∣dible enterprises will not permit him, I am onely willing to advize you, that being a Poet, you may bee famous, if you governe your selfe by other mens judgements, more then by your owne; for you have no parents that dislike their owne children, faire or foule, and this errour is more frequent in mens understandings.

The Father and the Son afresh admired at Don-Quixotes oft interposed reasons,

some wise, some foolish, and at his obstinate being bent altogether upon his unlucky Adventures which he aimed at, as the marke and end of his desire, they renewed againe their kinde offers and complements with him; but Don-Quixote taking his leave of the Lady of the Castle, mounted his Rozinante, and Sancho his Dapple; so they parted.

CHAP. XIX.

Of the Adventure of the enamoured Sheepheard, with other, indeed, pleasant accidents.

DOn-Quixote was not gone far from Don Diego's towne, when hee overtooke two men that seemed to be Parsons, or Schollers, with two Husbandmen that were mounted upon four Asses. One of the Schollers had (as it were in a Portmantue) a piece of white cloth for Scarlet, wrapped up in a piece of greene Buckeram, and two payre of Cotton Stockings. The other had nothing but two Foiless and a paire of Pumpes. The Husbandmen had other things, which shewed they came from some Market Towne, where they had bought them to carry home to their village: so as well the Schollers as the Hus∣bandmen fell into the same admiration, that all they had done who first saw Don-Quixote, & they longed to know what manner of fellow he was, so different from all other men. Don-Quixote saluted them, and after hee asked them whither they went, and that they had said they went his way, he offered them his company, and desired them to go softlyer, for that their young Asses travelled faster then his horse: and to oblige them the more, he told them who he was, and of his profession, that he was a Knight Er∣rant, that he went to seeke Adventures round about the world. Hee told them his proper name was Don-Quixote de la Mancha, but his ordinary name, The Knight of the Lyons.

All this to the Husbandmen was Heathen Greek, or Pedlers French: but not to the Schollers, who straight perceived the weakenesse of Don-Quixotes brain: Not∣withstanding they beheld him with great admiration and respect, and one of them said, Knight, if you goe no set journey, as they which seeke Adventures seldome doe, I pray goe with us, and you shall see one of the bravest and most sumptuous mariages that ever was kept in the Mancha, or in many leagues round about. Don-Quixote asked them if it were of any Prince (for so hee imagined.) No, Sir, (said hee) but betwixt a Farmer, and a Farmers daughter: hee is the richest in all the Countrey, and she the fairest alive. Their provision for this marriage is new and rare, and it is to be kept in a medow neere the Brides towne. Shee is, called, the more to set her out, Quiteria the faire, and hee Camacho the rich: she is about eightteene yeeres of age, and hee two and twenty, both well met, but that some nice people, that busie them∣selves in all mens linages, will say that the faire Quiteria is of better parentage then he: but that's nothing, riches are able to soulder all clests. To say true, this Cha∣macho is liberall, and he hath longed to make an Arbor, and cover all the Medow on the Top so that the Sunne will bee troubled to enter to visit the greene hearbs under∣neath. Hee hath also certaine warlike Morrices, as well of swords, as little jyngling bels; for wee have those in the towne that will jangle them. For your foot-clappers I say nothing, you would wonder to see them bestirre themselves: but none of these, nor others I have told you of, are like to make this marriage so remarkeable, as the de∣spised Basilius. This Basilius is a neighbouring swaine of Quiteria's Towne, whose house was next dore to her Fathers. From hence Love tooke occasion to renew un∣to the world, the long forgotten loves of Pyramus and Thyshe; for Basilius loved

Quiteria from a childe, and shee answered his desires with a thousand loving favors. So that it grew a common talke in the towne, of the love betweene the two little ones. Quiteria began to grow to some yeeres, and her Father began to deny Basilius his ordinary accesse to the house; and to avoyd all suspicion, purposed to marry her to the rich Camacho, not thinking it fit to marry her to Basilius, who was not so rich in For∣tunes goods, as in those of the minde, (for to say truth without envy) hee is the acti∣vest youth wee have, a famous Barre-pitcher, an excellent Wrastler, a great Tennis-player, hee runnes like a Deere, out-leapes a shee-goat, and playes at tenne pinnes mi∣raculously, sings like a Larke, playes upon a Gitterne as if hee made it speake, and a∣bove all, fenceth as well as the best.

For that slight only (quoth Don Quixote) the youth deserves not onely to match with the faire Quiteria, but with Queene Ginebra her selfe, if she were now alive, in spight of Lansarote, and all that would gain say it. There's for my wife now (quoth Sancho that had beene all this while silent) that would have every one marry with their equals, holding her selfe to the Proverbe, that sayes; Like to like (quoth the Devill to the Collier.) All that I desire, is, that honest Basilius (for me thinkes I love him) were married to Quiteria, and God give um joy (I was saying) those that goe about to hinder the marriage of two that love well. If all that love well (quoth Don-Quixote) should marry, Parents would lose the priviledge of marrying their children, when and with whom they ought; and if daughters might chuse their husbands, you should have some would choose their fathers servants, and others, any passenger in the street, whom they thought to bee a lusty swaggerer, although hee were a cowardly Russian; for love and affection doe easily blinde the eyes of the understanding, which is onely fit to choose, and the state of Matrimony is a ticklish thing, and there is great heed to be taken, and a particular favour to be given from above to make it light happily.

Any man that would but undertake some voyage, if hee bee wise, before hee is on his way, hee will seeke him some good companion. And why should not hee doe so, that must travell all his life time till hee come to his resting place, Death? and the rather if his company must bee at bed and at boord, and in all places, as the Wives companie must be with the Husband? Your wife is not a commodity like others that is bought and sold, or exchang'd; but an inseparable accident, that lasts for terme of life. It is a nooze, that being fastned about the neck, turns to a Gordian knot, which cannot bee undone but by Deaths sickle.

I could tell yee much more in this businesse, were it not for the desire I have to bee satisfied by Master Parson, if there bee any more to come of Basilius his story. To which hee answered, This is all, that from the instant that Basilius knew the faire Qui∣teria was to bee married to the rich Camacho, hee was never seene to smile, or talke sen∣sibly; and hee is alwaies sad and pensative, talkes to himselfe; an evident token that hee is distracted: eates little, sleepes much; all he cates is fruits, and all his sleepe is in the fields, upon the hard ground like a Beast; now and then hee lookes up to Heaven, and sometimes casts his eyes downeward, so senslesse, as if he were only a Statue cloathed, and the very ayre strikes off his garments. In fine, hee hath all the signes of a passionate heart, and wee are all of opinion, that by that time Quiteria to morrow gives the, I, it will be the Sentence of his Death. God forbid (said Sancho) for God gives the wound, and God gives the salve, no body knowes what may happen, 'tis a good many houres betweene this and to morrow, and in one houre, nay one minute, a house falls; and I have seen the Sunne shine, and foule weather in an instant; one goes to bed sound at night, and stirres not the next morning: and pray tell mee, is there any one here that can say hee hath stayed the course of Fortunes great wheele? No truly, and betweene a womans I, and no, I would be loth to put a pins point, for it would hardly enter. Let mee have Mistrisse Quiteria love Basilius with all her heart, and Ile give him a bag full of good luck, for your love (as I have heard tell) lookes wantonly with eyes that make copper seeme gold, and poverty riches, and filth in the eyes, pearles. Whether a plague run'st thou Sancho, (quoth Don-Quixote?) when thou goest threding on thy Proverbs and thy flim-flams, Iudas himselfe though hee take thee cannot hold thee: Tell

me Beast; what knowest thou of fortune or her wheel, or any thing else? Oh if you understand me not, no marvell though my sentences bee held for fopperies: well, I know what I say, and know I have not spoken much from the purpose; but you, Sir, are allwaies the Tourney to my words and actions. Attourney thou wouldest say: God confound thee thou, prevaricator of language.

Doe not you deale with me (said Sancho) since you know I have not been brought up in Court, nor studied in Salamanca to know whether I add or diminish any of my syllables. Lord God, you must not think your Galizian [One of that Province that speak a bastard language to the Spanish,] can speak like your Toledonian, and they nei∣ther are not all so nimble. For matter of your Court language (quoth the Parson) 'tis true; for they that are bred in the Tanner-rows and the Zocodoner [The Market place so called in Toledo,] cannot discourse like them that walk all day in the high Church Cloysters; yet all are Toledonians, the language is pure, proper, and elegant (indeed) only in your discreet Courtiers, let them bee borne where they will: Discreet I say, because many are otherwise, and discretion is the Grammer of good language, which is accompanied with practice: I Sir, I thank God have studied the Canons in Salamanca, and presume sometimes to yeeld a reason in plain and significant tearms. If you did not presume (said the other Scholler) more on your using the foyles you carry then your tongue, you might have been Senior in your degree, whereas now you are lag. Look you Bachelour (quoth the Parson) you are in the most erronious opinion of the world, touching the skill of the weapon, since you hold it frivolous. 'Tis no opinion of mine (said Corchuelo) but a manifest truth; and, if you will have me shew it by experience, there you have foyles commodious: I have an arme, and strength, which, together with my courage, which is not small, will make you confesse I am not deceived; alight, and keep your distance, your circles, your corners, and all your Science; I hope to make your see the starres at noon day with my skill, which is but modern and mean, which though it bee small, I hope to God the man is yet unborn that shall make mee turne my back; and there is no man in the world but I'le make him give ground. For turning your back (said the skillfull) I meddle not, though perhaps where you first set your foot, there your grave might bee diged, I mean, you might bee killed for despising skill. That you shall trye (said Corchuelo) and lighting hastily from his Asse, hee snatch∣ed one of the Swords that the Parson carried. Not so (said Don-Quixote instantly) I'le bee the Master of this Fence, and the Judge of this undecided controversie: and lighting from Rozinante, and taking his Launce, hee stepped between them till such time as the Parson had put himself into his Posture and distance against Corchuelo, who rann (as you would say) darting fire out of his eyes. The two Husbandmen that were by, without lighting from their Asses, served for spectators of the mortall Tragedy: the blows, the stockadoes, your false thrusts, your back-blows, your doubling blows, that came from Corchuelo, were numberlesse, as thick as hopps, or haile, hee laid on like an angry Lyon; but still the Parson gave him a stopple for his mouth, with the button of his foyle, which stopped him in the mid'st of his fury; and hee made him kisse it as if it had been a Relike, though not with so much devotion as is due to them. In a word, the Parson with pure Stocados told all the buttons of his Cassock which hee had on, his skyrts flying about him like a fishes tayle. Twice hee strook off his hat, and so wea∣ried him, that what for despight, what for choller and rage, he took the sword by the hilt and flung it into the aire so forcibly, that one of the Husbandmen that was by, who was a notary, and went for it, gave testimony after, that he flung it almost three quarters of a mile; which testimony serves, and hath served, that it may bee known and really seen that force is overcome by Art.

Corchuelo sate down, being very weary, and Sancho coming to him, said; Truely Sir Bachelor, if you take my advice, hereafter challenge no man to fence, but to wrastle or throw the bar, since you have youth and force enough for it; for I have heard those that you call your skillfull men say, that they will thrust the poynt of a Sword through the eye of a Needle. I am glad (quoth Corchuelo) that I came from my Asse, and that experience hath shewed me what I would not have beleeved. So rising up, hee embra∣ced

the Parson, and they were as good friends as before So, not staying for the No∣tary that went for the Sword, because they thought he would tarry long, they resolved to follow, and come betimes to Quiteriaes Village, of whence they all were. By the way the Parson discourses to them, of the excellency of the Art of Fencing, with so many demonstrative Reasons, with so many Figures and Mathematicall demon∣strations, that all were satisfied with the rareness of the Science, and Corchuelo reduced from his obstinacy.

It began to grow darke, but before they drew neere, they all saw a kind of heaven of innumerable Stars before the Town. They heard likewise harmonious and confused sounds of divers instruments, as Flutes, Tabers, Psalteries, Recorders, hand-Drums and Bells; and when they drew neere, they saw that the trees of an Arbor, which had been made at the entrance of the towne, were all full of lights, which were not offended by the winde,•• that then blew not, but was so gentle, that it scarce moved the leaves of the trees. The Musicians were they that made the marriage more sprightly, who went two and two in companies, som dancing and singing, others playing upon divers of the a∣foresaid instruments: Nothing but myrth ran up and down the Medow, others were busied in raysing scaffolds, that they might the next day see the representations and dan∣ces commodiously, dedicated to the marriage of the rich Camacho, and the Obsequies of Basilius.

Don-Quixote would not enter the town, although the Husband-men and the Ba∣chelor entreated him; for he gave a sufficient excuse for himself (as he thought) that it was the custome of Knights Errant to sleep in Fields and Forrests, rather then in habita∣tions, though it were under golden roofs: so he went a little out of the way, much a∣gainst Sanchoes will, who remembred the good lodging he had in the Castle, or house of Don-Diego.

CHAP. XX.

Of the Marriage of rich Camacho, and the successe of poore Basilius.

SCARCE had the silver morne given bright Phoebus leave, with the ar∣dor of his burning rayes, to dry the liquid Pearles on his golden locks, when Don-Quixote shaking off sloth from his drowzie Members, rose up, and called Sancho his Squire, that still lay snorting: which Don-Quixote seeing, before he could wake, he said; Oh happy thou above all that live upon the face of the earth, that without envie, or being envied, sleepest with a quiet brest, neither persecuted by Enchanters, nor frighted by Enchantments. Sleepe I say, once againe, nay an hundred times sleepe: let not thy Masters jealousie keepe thee continually awake, nor let care to pay thy debts make thee watchfull, or how another day thou and thy small, but straightned Family may live, whom neither ambition troubles, nor the worlds vaine pompe doth weary, since the bounds of thy desires extend no farther then to thinking of thine Asse: for, for thine own person, that thou hast committed to my charge, a counterpoize and burden that Nature and Custome hath laid upon the Masters. The servant sleeps, and the Master wakes, thinking how he may maintaine, good him, and do him kindnesses; the griefe that it is to see heav'n obdurate in relieving the earth with seasonable moysture, troubles not the servant, but it doth the Master, that must keep in sterility and hunger, him that ved him in abundance and plenty.

Sancho answered not a word to all this, for hee was a sleepe, neither would he have

awaked so soon, if Don-Quixote had not made him come to himself with the little end of his Launce. At length hee awaked sleepie and drowsie, and turning his face round about, hee said, From this Arbor (if I bee not deceived) there comes a steem and smell rather of good broyled Rashers, then Time and Rushes: A marriage that begins with such smells (by my Holidam) I think 'twill bee brave and plen∣tifull.

Away Glutton (quoth Don-Quixote) come and let us goe see it, and what becomes of the disdained Basilius. Let him doe what hee will (said Sancho) were it not better that hee were poor still and married to Quiteria? There is no more in it, but let the Moon lose one quarter and shee'l fall from the clouds: Faith Sir, I am of opinion, that the poor fellow be contented with his fortunes, and not seek after things impossi∣ble. I'le hold one of mine armes that Camacho will cover Basilius all over with six-pences: and if it bee so, as 'tis like, Quiteria were a very fool to leave her bravery and Jewels that Camacho hath and can give her, and choose Basilius for his bar-pitching and fancing: In a Tavern they will not give you a pinte of wine for a good throw with the barre, or a trick at fence; such abilities that are worth nothing, have um whose will for me: But when they light upon one that hath crowns withall, let me bee like that man that hath them: Upon a good foundation a good building may bee raised, and money is the best bottome and foundation that is in the world. For Gods love Sancho (quoth Don••Quixote) conclude thy tedious discourse; with which, I be∣leeve, if thou wert let alone, thou wouldest neither eate nor sleep for talking. If you had a good memorie (said Sancho) you would remember the articles of our agreement before wee made our last sally from home, one of which was, That you would let me speak as much as I list, on condition that it were not against my Neigh∣bour, or against your Authority; and hitherto I am sure I have not broken that Article.

I remember no such Article Sancho (said hee) and though it were so, I would have you now bee silent and come with me; for now the Instruments wee heard over night begin to cheer the Vallies; and doubtlesse the marriage is kept in the cool of the morning, and not deferred till the afternoons heat. Sancho did what his Master willed him, and sadling Rozinante, with his Pack-saddle clapped likewise on D••pple, the two mounted, and fair and softly entred the Arbor. The first thing that Sancho saw was a whole Steer spitted upon a whole Elme, and for the fire, where it was to bee roasted, there was a prettie mountain of wood, and six pots that were round about this Bon-fire, which were never cast in the ordinary mold that other pots were, for they were six half Olive-buts, and every one was a very Shambles of meat, they had so many whole Sheep soking in them which were not seen, as if they had been Pigeons; the flayed Hares, and the pulled Hens that were hung upon the trees to bee buried in the pots, were numberlesse; Birds and Fowle of divers sorts infinite, that hung on the Trees, that the aire might cool them. Sancho counted above threescore skinnes of wine, each of them of above two Arrobaes; [Arroba, a measure of 25. pound weight, which may bee some six gallons of Wine:] and as it afterward seemed, of spritely liquor: there were also whole heaps of purest Bread, heaped up like Corne in the threshing-floors: your Cheeses, like bricks piled one upon another, made a goodly wall: and two Kettles of Oyle, bigger then a Dyars, served to frie their Paste-work, which they took out with two strong Peels when they were fryed, and they ducked them in another Kettle of Honey that stood by for the same purpose: There were Cooks above fifty, men and women, all cleanly, carefull and cheerfull: In the spacious belly of the Steer there were twelve sucking Pigs, which being sowed there, served to make him more savory: The Spices of divers sorts, it seems they were not brought by pounds, but by Arrones, and all lay open in a great Chest: To conclude, this preparation for the marriage was rusticall; but so plentifull that it might furnish an Army.

Sancho Panca beheld all, and was much affected with it: and first of all the goodly Pots did captivate his desires, from whence with all his heart hee would have been glad to have received a good Pipkin full; by and by hee was enamored on the skins; and

last of all on the fryed meats, if so bee those vast Kettles might bee called Frying-pans ••so, without longer patience, wanting absteinence he came to one of the Cooks, and with courteous and hungry reasons, desired him, that he might sop a cast of bread in one of the Pots. To which the Cook replyed; Brother this is no day on which hunger may have any jurisdiction (thanks bee to the rich Camacho) alight, and see if you can finde ever a ladle there, and skimme out a Hen or two, and much good may they doe you.

I see none (said Sancho.) Stay (said the Cook) God forgive me! what a Ninny 'tis? And saying this, hee layed hold of a Kettle, and sowsing into it one of the half butts, hee drew out of it three Hens and two Geese, and said to Sancho; Eat friend, and break your fast with this froth till dinner time. I have nothing to put it in (said Sancho.) Why take spoon and all (said the Cook) for Camacho's riches and content will very well beare it.

Whilest Sancho thus passed his time, Don••Quixote saw that by one side of the Arbor there came a dozen Husband-men upon twelve goodly Mares, with rich and sightly furniture fit for the Countrey, with many little bells upon their Petrels, all clad in bravery for that dayes solemnity, and all in a joynt troop ran many Careers up and down the Medow, with a great deal of mirth and jollity, crying, Long live Camacho and Quiteria, hee as rich as shee fair, and shee the fairest of the world. Which when Don-Quixote heard, thought hee to himself, it well appears that these men have not seen my Dulcinea del Toboso: for if they had, they would not be so forward in praising this their Quiteria.

A while after there began to enter at divers places of the Arbor, certain different Dances, amongst which there was one Sword-dance by four and twenty Swains, handsome lusty Youths, all in white linnen, with their Handkerchifs wrought in severall colours of fine silk, and one of the twelve upon the Mares asked him that was the fore-man of these, a nimble Lad, if any of the Dancers had hurt themselves.

Hitherto (said hee) no body is hurt; wee are all well, God be thanked: and straight hee shuffled in amongst the rest of his companions, with so many tricks, and so much slight, that Don-Quixote, though hee were used to such kinde of Dances, yet hee never liked any so well as this: Hee also liked another very well, which was of faire young Maids, so young, that never a one was under fourteen, nor none above eighteen, all clad in course green, their haire partly filletted and partly loose•• but all were yellow, and might compare with the Sonne, upon which they had Garlands of Iasmines, Roses, Woodbine and Hony-suckles, [Jasmines, a little sweet white flowre that grows in Spain in hedges, like our sweet Marjoram:] they had for their guides a reverend old man and a matronly woman, but more light and nimble then could bee expected from their yeers.

They Danc'd to the sound of a Zomara Bag-pipe: [Zomara, a Town in Castile fa∣mous for that kinde of Musick, like our Lancashire Horn-pipe:] so that with their ho∣nest looks and their nimble feet, they seemed to bee the best Dancers in the world. After this there came in another artificiall Dance, of those called Brawles, it consisted of eight Nymphs, divided into two ranks; God Cupid guided one rank, and Money the other; the one with his Wings, his Bow, his Quiver and Arrows; the other was clad in divers rich colours of gold and silk: The Nymphs that followed Love, carried a white parchment scrowle at their backs, in which their names were written in great letters; the first was Poesie, the second Discretion, the third Nobility, the fourth Valour. In the same manner came those whom God Money led; the first was Liberality, the second Reward, the third Treasure, the fourth quiet Possession: before them came a wodden Castle, which was shot at by two Savages clad in Ivie, and Canvas dyed in green, so to the life, that they had well-nigh frighted Sancho: Upon the Frontispice, and of each side of the Castle, was written, The Castle of good heed: Four skillfull Musicians played to them on a Taber and Pipe; Cupid began the Dance, and after two changes, he lifted up his eyes, & bent his Bow against a Virgin that stood upon the battlements of the Castle, and said to her in this manner.

I am the Pow'rfull Deitie, In Heaven above, and earth beneath, In Seas, and Hells profunditie, O'er all that therein live or breath.

What 'tis to fear, I never knew; I can perform all that I will; Nothing to me is strange or new; I bid, forbid at pleasure still.

The Verse being ended, hee shot a flight over the Castle, and retyred to his standing; By and by came out Money, and performed his two changes; the Tabor ceased, and hee spoke:

Loe I that can doe more then Love, Yet Love is hee that doth mee guide, My of••spring great'st on earth, to Jove Above I neerest am ally'd.

I Money am, with whom but few Performe the honest workes they ought; Yet here a Miracle to shew, That without mee they could doe ought.

Money retired, and Poetry advanced, who after shee had done her changes as well as the rest, her eyes fixe upon the Damzell of the Castle, she said:

Lady, to thee, sweet Poesie Her Soule in deep conceits doth send. Wrapt up in Writs of Sonnetry, Whose pleasing strains doe them commend.

If with my earnestnesse, I thee Importune not, faire Damzell, soone Thy envi'd fortune shall, by mee, Mount the circle of the Moone.

Poetrie gave way, and from Monies side came Liberalitie, and after her changes, spoke:

To give is Liberalitie, In him that shunnes two contraries, The one of Prodigalitie, Tother of hatefull Avarice.

Ile bee profuse in praysing thee, Profusenesse hath accounted beene A vice, yet sure it commeth nie Affection, which in gifts is seene.

In this sort both the shews of the two Squadrons, came in and out, and each of them performed their changes, and spoke their Verses, some elegant, some ridiculous, Don-Quixote only remembred (for he had a great memorie) the rehearsed ones, and now the whole troope mingled together, winding in and out with great spritelynesse and de∣xteritie, and still as Love went before the Castle, he shot a flight aloft, but Money broke gilded bals, and threw into it.

At last, after Money had danc'd a good while, hee drew out a great Purse made of a Roman Cats skinne, which seemed to bee full of money, and casting it into the Castle, with the blow, the boords were disjoyned and fell downe, leaving the Damzell disco∣vered, without any defence. Money came with his Assistants, and casting a great chaine of gold about her neck, they made a shew of leiding her Captive: Which when Love and his Party saw, they made shew as if they would have rescued her, and all these motions were to the sound of the Tabrer, with skillfull dancing, the Savages parted them, who very speedily went to set up and joyne the boords of the Castle, and the Damzell was inclosed there anew; and with this the dance ended, an the great content of the spectators.

Don-Quixote asked one of the Nymphs, Who had so drest and ordered her? Shee answered, A Parson of the towne, who had an excellent capacity for such inventi∣ons. I'le lay a wager (said Don-Quixote) he was more Basilius his friend then Cama∣cho's, and that he knowes better what belongs to a Satyre then an Even song; he hath well fitted Basilius his abilities to the dance, and Camacho's riches.

Sancho Panca that heard all, sayd; The King is my Cocke, I hold with Camacho. Well, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) thou art a very Peasant, and like them that, Long live the Conquerour. I know not who I am like (said Sancho:) but I know I shall never get such delicate froth out of Basilius his Pottage-pots, as I have out of Camacho's: and with that shewed him the kettle full of Geese and Hens, and laying hold on one, he fell to it merrily and hungerly, and for Basilius abilities this he sayd to their teeth: So much thou art worth as thou hast, and so much as thou hast, thou art worth. An old Grandame of mine was wont to say, there were but two linages in the world, Have-much, and Have-little; and she was mightly enclined to the for∣mer: and at this day, Master, your Physician had rather feele a having pulse, then a knowing pulse, and an Asse covered with gold makes a better shew then a horse with a pack-saddle. So that I say again, I am of Camacho's side, the scumme of whose pots are Geese, Hens, Hares, and Conies, and Basilius his, bee they neere or farre off, but poore thin water.

Hast thou ended with thy tediousnesse, Sancho (said Don-Quixote?) I must end (sayd hee) because I see it offends you; for if it were not for that, I had worke cut out for three dayes. Pray God, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) that I may see thee dumbe before I die. According to our life (sayd Sancho) before you die, I shall bee mumbling clay, and then perhaps I shall bee so dumbe, that I shall not speake a word till the end of the world, or at least till Dooms-day.

Although it should bee so, Sancho (said hee) thy silence will never bee equall to the talking past, and thy talke to come; besides, 'tis very likely that I shall die before thee, and so I shall never see thee dumbe, no not when thou drinkest or sleepest, to paint thee out thorowly. In good faith, Master (quoth Sancho) there is no trusting in the raw bones, I meane Death, that devoures lambes as well as sheepe, and I have heard our Vicar say, shee tramples as well on the high Towres of Kings, as the humble cottages of poore men: this Lady hath more power then squeamishnesse, she is no∣thing dainty, shee devoures all, playes at all, and fils her wallets with all kinde of peo∣ple, ages, and preeminences: Shee is no Mower that sleepes in the hot weather, but mowes at all houres, and cuts as well the greene grasse as the hay: shee doth not chew, but swallowes at once, and crams downe all that comes before her; shee hath a Canine apetite, that is never satisfied, and though shee have no belly, yet shee may make us thinke shee is Hy••ropsicall, with the thrist she hath to drinke all mens lives, as if it were a jugg of colde water.

No more, Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) at this instant, hold while thou art well, and take heed of falling, for certainely thou hast spoken of Death in thy rusticall tearms, as much as a good Preacher might have spoken. I tell thee, Sancho, that for thy na∣turall discretion, thou might'st get thee a Pulpit, and preach thy fine knacks up and downe the world. Hee preaches well that lives well (said Sancho) and I know no other preaching. Thou needest not (quoth hee:) But I wonder at one thing, that wise∣dome

beginning from the feare of God, that thou, who fearest a Lizard more then him, should'st be so wise? Judge you of your Knight Errantry (said Sancho) and meddle not with other mens feares or valors, for I am as pretty a Fearer of God as any of my neighbours, and so let mee snuffe away this scum: [Meaning to eat his Hen and the Goose:] for all the rest are but idle words, for which wee must give account in another life. And in so saying hee began to give another assault to the kettle, with such a courage, that hee wakened Don-Quixote, that undoubtedly would have tak∣en his part, if he had not beene hindered by that, that of necessity must be set down.

CHAP. XXI.

Of the prosecution of Camacho's marriage, with other delightfull accidents.

AS Don-Quixote and Sancho were in their discourse mentioned in the former chapter, they heard a great noyse and out-cry, which was caused by them that rode on the Mares, who with a large Career and shouts went to meet the married couple; who hemmed in with a thousand trickes and devices, came in company of the Vicar, and both their kindreds, and all the better sort of the neighbouring townes, all clad in their best apparell. And as Sancho saw the Bride•• he said, In good faith she is not drest like a country-wench, but like one of your nice Court Dames: by th'Masse me thinkes her glasse necke-laces shee should weare are rich Corrall; and her course greene of Cuenca, is a thirty piled velvet, [In stead of three piled;] and her lacing that should bee white linnen, (I vow by mee) is Satten: well looke on her hands that should have their jette rings, let mee not thrive if they bee not golden rings, arrant gold, and set with pearles as white as a sillabub, each of them as precious as an eye. Ah whoreson, and what lockes shee hath? for if they bee no•• false, I never saw longer, nor fairer in my life. Well, well, finde not fault with her livelinesse and stature, and compare her me to a Date tree, that bends up and down when it is loaden with bunches of Dates; for so doth shee with her trinkets hanging at her hayre and about her necke: I sweare by my soule, shee is a wench of mettall, and may very well passe the pike in Flanders.

Don-Quixote laughed at Sancho's rustick praises, a••d hee thought that setting his Mistris Dulcinea aside, hee never saw a fairer woman: the beauteous Quiteria was somewhat pale belike, with the ill night that Brides alwaies have when they dresse them∣selves for the next daies marriage: They drew neer to a Theater on one side of the Medow that was dressed with Carpets and Boughs, where the marriage was to bee solemnized, and where they should behold the Dances and inventions: And just as they should come to the place, they heard a great out-cry behinde them, and a voyce saying; Stay a while rash people as well as hasty: At whose voyce and words they all turned about, and saw that hee that spoke was one clad (to see to) in a black Jacket, all welted with Crimson in flames, crowned (as they straight perceived) with a crown of mourn∣full Cypresse; in his hand he had a great Truncheon: and comming neerer he was the known to bee the gallant Basilius, who were in suspence, expecting what should be the issue of those cryes & words, fearing some ill successe from this so unlooked-for arrivall: Hee drew neer, weary, and out of breath; and comming before the married couple, and clapping his Truncheon upon the ground, which had a steel pike at the end of it: his colour changed, and his eyes fixed upon Quiteria, with a fearfull hollow voyce, thus spoke.

Well knowest thou, forgetfull Quiteria, that according to the Law of God that we

professe, that whilest I live thou canst not bee married to any other; neither are you ignorant, that because I would stay till time and my industrie might better my For∣tunes, I would not break that decorum that was fitting to the preserving of thy hone∣sty: but you forgetting all duetie due to my virtuous desires will make another Ma∣ster of what is mine, whose riches serve not only to make him happie in them, but every way fortunate; and that he may bee so to the full (not as I think hee deserves it, but as the Fates ordain it for him) I will with these hands remove the impossibilitie or in∣convenience that may disturbe him, removing my self out of the way. Live rich Cama∣cho, live with the ungratefull Quiteria many and prosperous yeers; and let your poor Basilius die, whose povertie cliped the wings of his happinesse, and laid him in his grave: And saying this, hee laid hold of his Truncheon that he had stuck in the ground, and the one half of it remaining still there, shewed that it served for a scabberd to a short Tuck that was concealed in it, and putting that which might bee called the hilt on the ground, with a nimble spring and a resolute purpose, hee cast himself upon it, and in an instant the bloody poynt appeared out of his back, with half the steel blade; the poor soul weltring in his blood all along on the ground, runne thorow with his own weapon: His friends ranne presently to help him, grieved with his misery and miserable hap, and Don-Quixote forsaking his Rozinante, went also to help him; took him in his armes, but found that as yet there was life in him. They would have pulled out the Tuck, but the Vicar there present, was of opinion that it were not best, before hee had con∣fessed himself; for that the drawing it out and his death would bee both at one instant. But Basilius comming a little to himself, with a faint and dolefull voyce, said, If thou wouldest, O Quiteria, yet in this last and forcible trance, give me thy hand to be my Spouse, I should think my rashnesse might something excuse me, since with this I ob∣tain to bee thine.

The Vicar hearing this, bade him hee should have a care of his souls health, rather then of the pleasures of his body, and that hee should heartily ask God forgivenesse for his sinnes, and for his desparate action. To which Basilius replyed, That hee would by no means confesse himself if Quiteria did not first give him her hand to bee his Spouse, for that content would make him cheerfully confesse himself. When Don-Quixote heard the wounded mans petition, hee cryed aloud, that Basilius desired a thing very just and reasonable, and that Signior Camacho would bee as much honoured in receiving Quiteria, the worthy Basilius his Widdow, as if hee had received her from her Fathers side: here is no more to doe but give one I, no more then to pronounce it, since the nuptiall Bed of this marriage must be the Grave.

Camacho gave eare to all this, and was much troubled, not knowing what to doe or say: but Basilius his friends were so earnest, requesting him to consent that Quite∣ria might give him her hand to be his Spouse, that hee might not endanger his Soul by de∣parting desperately, that they moved him and enforced him to say, That if Quiteria would, hee was contented, seeing it was but deferring his desires a minute longer. Then all of them came to Quiteria, some with intreaties, others with tears, most with for∣cible reasons, and perswaded her shee should give her hand to poor Basilius; and shee more hard then marble, more lumpish then a statue, would not answer a word, nei∣ther would shee at all, had not the Vicar bid her resolve what shee would doe, for Ba∣silius was even now ready to depart, and could not expect her irresolute determination. Then the fair Quiteria, without answering a word, all sad and troubled, came where Basilius was with his eyes even set, his breath failing him, making shew as if hee would dye like a Gentile, and not like a Christian. Quiteria came at length, and upon her knees made signes to have his hand. Basilius unjoyned his eyes and looking stedfastly upon her, said, Oh Quiteria! thou art now come to bee pittifull, when thy pittie must bee the sword that shall end my life, since now I want force to receive the glory that thou givest in choosing me for thine, or to suspend the dolor that so hastily closeth up mine eyes with the fearfull shade of death: All I desire thee is (oh fatall starre of mine!) that the hand thou requirest, and that that thou wilt give me, that it bee not for fashion-sake, nor once more to deceive me, but that thou confesse and say, with∣out

being forced to it, that thou givest mee thy hand freely, as to thy lawfull Spouse, since it were unmercifull in this Trance to deceive mee, or to deale falsly with him that hath beene so true to thee. In the middest of this Discourse hee fainted, so that all the standers by thought now hee had beene gone. Quiteria all honest and shamefac'd, laying hold with her right hand on Basilius his hand, said to him; No force can worke upon my Will, and so I give thee the freest hand I have, to bee thy lawfull Spouse, and receive thine, if thou give it mee as freely, and that the anguish of thy sodaine accident doe not too much trouble thee. I give it (said Basilius) lively and coura∣giously, with the best understanding that Heaven hath endowed mee withall, and therefore take mee, and I deliver my selfe as thy Espousall; and I (said Quiteria) as thy Spouse, whether thou live long, or whether from my armes they carry thee to thy Grave.

This young man said Sancho, being so wounded, talks much mee think, let him leave his wooing, and attend his soules health, which me thinks appeares more in his tongue, then in his teeth.

Basilius and Quiteria having their hands thus fastened, the Vicar tender-hearted and compassionate, powred his blessing upon them, and prayed God to give good rest to the new married mans soule, who as soone as he received this benediction, sodainly starts up, and with an unlook'd for agility, drew out the Tuck which was sheathed in his body. All the spectators were in a maze, and some of them, more out of simplicitie then curiositie, began to cry out, A miracle, a miracle: But Basilius replyed, No Miracle, no miracle; but a Trick, a trick. But the Vicar heed-lesse and astonish't, came with both his hands to feele the wound, and found that the blade had neyther pas∣sed through flesh or ribs, but through a hollow pipe of iron, that hee filled with blood, well fitted in that place, and (as after it was knowne) prepared so that it could not congeale. At last the Vicar and Camacho, and all the standers by, thought that they were mocked and made a laughing stock. The Bride made no great shew of sorrow, ra∣ther when shee heard say that the marriage could not stand currant, because it was de∣ceitfull, shee said, that shee anew confirmed it; by which they all collected, That the businesse had beene plotted by the knowledge and consentment of them both.

At which Camacho and his friends were so abashed, that they remitted their revenge to their hands, and unsheathing many swords, they set upon Basilius, in whose favour, in an instant there were as many more drawne: and Don••Quixote taking the Vant∣guard on Horseback, with his Launce at his rest, and well covered with his shield, made way through um all. Sancho (whom such feares did never please or solace) ran to the pottage-pot, from whence hee had gotten the skimmings, thinking that to bee a San∣ctuary, and so to bee respected. Don-Quixote cryed aloud, Hold, hold Sirs; for there is no reason that you should take revenge for the wrongs that Love doth us; and ob∣serve that Love and Warre are all one; and as in warre it is lawfull to use sleights and stratagems to overcome the Enemie; So in amorous strifes and competencies, Impo∣stu••es and juggling-tricks are held for good, to attaine to the wished end, so it bee not in prejudice and dishonour of the thing affected. Quiteria was due to Basilius, and Basilius to Quiteria, by the just and favourable inclination of Heaven. Camacho, is rich, and may purchase his delight, and whom God hath joyned, let no man separate. Basilius hath but this one sheepe, let none offer to take it from him, bee hee never so powerfull: Hee that first attempts it, must first passe through the point of this Launce; at which hee shaked his Launce strongly and cunningly, that hee frighted all that knew him not: But Quiteriaes disdaine was so inwardly fixt in Camachoes heart, that hee forgot her in an instant; so that the Vicars perswasions prevailed with him (who was a good discreete and honest-minded man) by which Camacho and his complices were pacified and quieted, in signe of which, they put up their swords, rather blaming Qui∣terias facilitie, then Basilius his industry. Camacho fram'd this Discourse to himselfe, That if Quiteria loved Basilius when shee was a maide, shee would also have continued her love to him though she had beene his wife, so that he ought to give God thanks ra∣ther

for having ridden him of her, then to have given her to him. Camacho then, and those of his crue being comforted and pacified; all Basilius his likewise were so: and Camacho, to shew that hee stomacked not the jest, nor cared for it, was willing the Feast should goe forward, as if hee had been really married. But neither Basilius nor his Spouse, nor their followers would stay, but went to Basilius his Town: for your poor that bee virtuous and discreet, have as well those that will follow, honour, and uphold them, as the rich theirs, and such as will flatter them. Don-Quixote went with them too, for they esteemed him to bee a man of worth and valour: But Sancho's minde was in a mist to see that it was impossible for him to stay for Camacho's sumptu∣ous Feast and Sports that lasted till the evening; so that straightned and sorrowfull he followed on with his Master that went in Basilius his Squadron, and thus left behinde him those flesh-pots of Aegypt; though he bore them with him in his minde, whose skum which hee carried in the Kettle being consumed now and ended, represented un∣to him the glorious and aboundant happinsse hee lost; so that all sad and sorrow∣full, though hungerlesse, without alighting from Dapple, hee followed Rozinantes track.

CHAP. XXII.

Of the famous Adventure of Montesino's Cave, which is in the heart of Mancha, which the valorus Don-Quixote happily accomplished.

THe married couple made wonderfull much of Don••Quixote, obliged thereunto for the willingnesse hee shewed to defend their cause, and with his valor they paralel'd his discretion, accounting him a Cid in Armes, and a Cicero in Eloquence. The good Sancho recreated himself three daies at the Bridegrooms charge, and now knew that Quiteria knew nothing of the faigned wounding, but that it was a trick of Basilius, who hoped for the successe that hath been shewed: true it was, that hee had made some of his loving friends acquainted with his purpose, that they might help him at need, and make good his deceit. They cannot bee called deceits (quoth Don••Quixote) that are done to a virtuous end, and that the marriage of a loving couple was an end most excellent: but by the way, you must know that the greatest opposite that loue hath, is want and continuall necessity; for Love is all mirth, content, and gladsomenesse, and the more, when hee that Loves, enjoyes the thing Loved, against which, Necessity and Poverty are open and declared enemies. All this hee spoke with a purpose to advise Basilius, that hee should leave exercising his youthfull abilities, that although they got him a name, yet they brought no wealth, and that hee should look to lay up something now by lawfull and industrious means, which are never wanting to those that will bee wary and apply themselves: the honest poor man (if so bee the poor man may bee called honest) hath a Jewell of a fair Wo∣man, which if any man bereave him of, dishonors him and kills her: Shee that is fair and honest when her Husband is poor, deserves to bee crowned with Lawrell and triumphant Bayes. Beauty alone attracts the eyes of all that behold it; and the Prince∣ly Eagles and high flying Birds doe stoop to it as to the pleasing Lure: but if extream Necessity bee added to that Beauty, then Kites and Crows will grapple with it, and other ravenous Birds; but shee that is constant against all these assaults, doth well de∣serve to bee her Husbands crown. Mark wise Basilius (proceeds Don-Quixote) it was an opinion of I know not what sage man, that there was but one good woman in the

World; and his advice was, That every man should think that was married, that his Wife was shee, and so hee should bee sure to live contented. I never yet was married, neither have I any thought hitherto that way; notwithstanding, I could bee able to give any man councell herein that should ask it, and how hee should choose his Wife.

First of all I would have him rather respect Fame then Wealth; for the honest woman gets not a good name only with being good, but in appearing so; for your publique loosenesse and libertie doth more prejudice a womans honestie, then her sinning secretly. If you bring her honest to your house, 'tis easie keeping her so and to better her in that goodnesse: but if you bring her dishonest, 'tis hard mending her; for it is not very plyable to passe from one extream into another, I say not impossible; but I hold it to bee very difficult.

Sancho heard all this, and said to himself, This Master of mine, when I speak matters of marrow and substance, is wont to tell me, that I may take a Pulpit in hand, and preach my fine knacks up and down the world; but I may say of him, that when hee once begins to thred his sentences, hee may not only begin to take a Pulpit in hand, but in each finger too, and goe up and down the Market place, and cry, Who buyes my Ware? The Divell take thee for a Knight Errant, how wise he is? On my soul •• thought hee had known only what belonged to his Knight Errantrie; but hee ••naps at all, and there is no boat that hee hath not an oare in. Sancho spoke this somewhat aloud, and his Master over-heard him, and asked, What is that thou art grumbling Sancho? I say nothing, neither doe I grumble (quoth hee) I was only saying to my self, that I would I had heard you before I was married, and perhaps I might now have said, The sound man needs no Physician, Is Teresa so bad Sancho, said Don-Quixote? Not very bad (said Sancho) and yet not very good, at least, not so good as I would have her. Thou do'st ill Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) to speake ill of thy Wife, who is indeed mother of thy children.

There's no love lost (quoth Sancho;) for shee speaks ill of me too when shee list, especially when shee is jealous; for then the Divell himself will not cope with her. Well, three dayes they stayed with the married couple, where they were welcommed like Princes. Don-Quixote desired the skilfull Parson to provide him a guide that might shew him the way to Montesino's Cave, for hee had a great desire to enter into it, and to see with his own eyes if those wonders that were told of it up & down the Countrey were true. The Parson told him, that a Cousin-german of his, a famous Student, and much addicted to Books of Knighthood should goe with him, who should willingly carry him to the mouth of the Cave, and should shew the famous Lake of Ruydera, telling him hee would bee very good company for him, by reason hee was one that knew how to publish Books, and direct them to great men

By and by the young Student comes me upon an Asse with Foale, with a course packing cloth, or doubled carpet upon his Pack-saddle. Sancho saddled Rozinante, and made ready his Dapple, furnished his Wallets, and carried the Students too, as well provided; and so taking leave and bidding all, God bee with you, they went on, holding their course to Montesino's Cave. By the way Don-Quixote asked the Scholler of what kinde or quality the exercises of his profession and studie were. To which hee answered, that his Profession was Humanity, his Exercises and Studie to make Books for the Presse, which were very beneficiall to himself and no lesse gratefull to the Common-wealth; that one of his Books was intituled, The Book of the Liveries, where are set down seven hundred and three sorts of Liveries, with their Colours, Mot∣to's, and Cyphers, from whence any may bee taken at Festivall times and shews by Courtiers, without begging them from any body, or distilling (as you would say) from their own brains to sute them to their desires and intentions; for I give to the jealous, to the forsaken, to the forgotten, to the absent, the most agreeable, that will fit them as well as their Punks. Another Book I have, which I mean to call the Metamorphosis. or Spanish Ovid, of a new and rare invention: for imitating Ovi•• in it, by way of mocking, I shew who the Giralda of Sevil was, the Angell of the Magdalena, who

was the Pipe of Vecinguerra of Cordova, who the Bulls of Guisando, Sierra Morena, the springs of Leganitos and Lavapies in Madrid [all these severall rarities of Spayne.] not forgetting that of Pioio, that of the gilded Pipe and of the Abbesse, and all this with the Allegories, Metaphors, and Translations, that they delight, suspend and instruct all in a moment. Another book I have, which I call a supply to Polydore Virgil, concer∣ning the invention of things, which is of great reading and study, by reason that I doe verifie many matters of waight that Polydore omitted, and declare them in a very plea∣sing stile; Virgil forgot to tell us who was the first that had a Catarre in the world, and the first that was anoynted for the French-disease, and I set it down presently after I propose it, and Authorize it with at least foure and twenty Writers, that you may see whether I have taken good paines, and whether the said booke may not bee profitable to the World.

Sancho, that was very attentive to the Schollers narration, asked him: Tell mee Sir, so God direct your right hand in the Impression of your Bookes; Can you tell mee? (for I know you can, since you know all) who was the first man that scratcht his head, for I beleeve it was our first father Adam? Yes marry was it (said he) for Adam, no doubt, had both head and haire, and being the first man in the world, would sometimes scratch himselfe. I beleeve it (quoth Sancho) but tell me now, Who was the first Vaul∣ter in the world? Truly Brother (said he) I cannot at present resolve you, I will stu∣dy it when I come to my bookes, and then Ile satisfie you when wee see one another a∣gaine, for I hope this will not bee the last time. Well Sir said Sancho, never trouble your selfe with this, for now I can resolve the doubt: Know, that the first Tumbler in the world was Lucifer, when he was cast out of heaven, and came tumbling downe to hell.

You say true (quoth the Scholler.) And Don-Quixote said; This answere Sancho, is none of thine, thou hast heard some body say so. Peace Sir (quoth Sancho) for if I fall to question and answere, I shall not make an end betweene this and Morning: And to aske foolish Questions, and answere unlikelyhoods, I want no helpe of my Neigh∣bours. Thou hast spoken more Sancho then thou thinkest for (quoth Don••Quixote) for you have some that are most busied in knowing and averring things, whose knowledge and remembrance is not worth a button. All that day they passed in these and other delightfull Discourses, and at night they lodged in a little Village, from whence the Scholler told them they had but two little leagues to Montesinoes Cave, and that if hee meant to enter it, he must be provided of Ropes to tie, and let himselfe downe into the depth. Don••Quixote said, that though it were as deepe as Hell, hee would see whither it reached; so they bought a hundred fathome of cordage, and the next day at two of the clock they came to the Cave, whose mouth is wide and spacious, but full of briers and brambles, and wilde fig-trees, and weeds so intricate and thick, that they altogether blind and dam it up. When they came to it, Sancho and the Schol∣ler alighted, and Don-Quixote; whom they tyed strongly with the cordage, and whil'st they were swathing and binding of him, Sancho said to him; Take heed Sir what you doe doe not bury your selfe alive, and doe not hang your self, like a bottle, to bee cooled in some well; for it neither concernes nor belongs to you, to search this place, worse then a Dungeon.

Binde mee and peace (quoth Don-Quixote) for such an enterprize as this, Sancho was reserved for mee. Then said the Guide, I beseech you Signior Don-Quixote, that you take heede, and looke about you with an hundred eyes, to see what is within; for perhaps you may meete with things that will bee fit for mee to put in my booke of Transformations. He hath his Instrument in his hand (quoth Sancho) that knows how to use it.

This said, and Don-Quixotes binding ended (which was not upon his Harnesse, but upon his arming doublet) hee said. Wee did unadvisedly, in not providing our selves of some small bell, that might have beene tyed with mee to the same cord, by whose sound you might know that I were still toward the bottome and alive; but since there is now no remedy, God bee our good speede, and streight hee kneeled upon his knees,

and made a soft Prayer to God Almighty, desiring his ayde, and to give him good suc∣cesse in that (to see to) dangerous and strange Adventure, and then straight waies hee cried aloud; Oh thou Mistrisse of my Actions and motions, most excellent, peere∣lesse Dulcinea del Toboso if it bee possible, that the prayers and requests of this thy hap∣py Lover come to thine eares, hearken (I beseech thee) by thy unheard of beauty, de∣ny not now unto mee thy favour and protection, which I so much neede: I goe to cast my selfe headlong to a plunge, and sinke my selfe into the Abyssus that presents it selfe to mee, that the World may knowe, that if thou favour mee, there shall bee no∣thing impossible for me to undergoe and end.

And in saying this he came to the mouth, but saw he could not come neer to bee let down, except it were by making way with maine force, or with cutting through; and so laying hand on his Sword, he began to cut and slash the weeds that were at the mouth of the Cave, at whose rushing and noyse, there came out an infinite company of Crowes and Dawes, so thick and so hastily, that they tumbled Don-Quixote on the ground•• and if he had been as superstitious, as good Christian, hee would have taken it for an ill signe, and not have proceeded.

Well, he rose, and seeing the Crowes were all gone, and that there were no other night-byrd, as Bats, that came out amongst the Crowes, Sancho and the Scholer let him down to search the bottom of that fearfull Cave; but Sancho first bestowed his benedi∣ction on him, and making a thousand crosses over him, said; God and the Rock of France, together with the Trinitie of Gaeta guide thee, thou flowre, cream and scum of Knights Errant; [severall places of devotion:] There thou goest, Hackster of the world, Heart of steele, and•• Armes of brasse, God again be thy guide, and deliver thee sound and without skarre to the light of this World which thou leavest, to bury thy selfe in the obscuritie which thou seekest.

The Scholer did (as it were) make the same kinde of wishes and deprecations. Don••Quixote cried out, that they should yet give him more Rope, which they gave by little and little; and when his voyce (that was stopt in the gutters of the Cave) could bee no longer heard, and that they had let downe their hundred fathome of Rope, they were of opinion to hoyst him up againe, since they could give him no more Cord; for all that, they stayed some half an houre, and then beganne easily to draw up the Rope, and without any weight, which made them think Don-Quixote was within, and Sancho beleeving it wept bitterly, and drew up apace, that he might be satisfied; but coming somewhat neere fourescore fathome, they felt a weight, which made them very much rejoyce.

At length when they came to ten, they plainly saw Don-Quixote, to whom Sancho cried out saying; You are well returned Sir, for we thought you had stayed there for breed. But Don-Quixote did not answer a word, but drawing him altogether out, they saw that his eyes were shut, as if he were asleep; they stretcht him on the ground and unbound him, and for all this he awaked not. But they so turned, tos••ed and shaked him, that a pretty while after he came to himself, lazing himself, as if he had wakened out of a great and profound sleep, and looking wildly round about him said; God for∣give you Friends, for you have raysed me from one of the delicatest and pleasingest lives and sights that ever was seen by humane eye: Now at length I perceive, that all the de∣lights of this world doe passe like a shadow or dreame, or wither like a flowre of the field: Oh unhappy Montesino's oh ill wounded Durandarte, of luckless Belerma, oh mournfull Guadiana, and you unfortunate daughters of Ruydera, that shew by your wa∣ters, those your faire eyes wept!

The Schaller and Sancho gave eare to these words which Don-Quixote spake, as if with great paine they came from his very entrailes: They desired him to let them know his meaning, and to tell them what hee had seene in that hellish place. Hellish, call yee it, said Don-Quixote? Well, call it not so, for it deserves not the name, as straight you shall heare: Hee desired them to give him somewhat to eate, for he was exceeding hungry. They laid the Scholers course wrapper upon the greene grasse, and went to the Spence of their Wallets, and all three of them being set like good fellowes, eat their

Bavar and supped all together: The cloth taken up Don-Quixote said, Sit still Ho, let none of you rise, and mark me attentively.

CHAP. XXIII.

Of the admirable things that the unparalel'd Don-Quixote re∣counted, which hee had seen in Montesino's profound Cave, whose strangenesse and impossibilitie makes this Chapter bee held for Apocrypha.

IT was well toward four of the clock, when the Sur ne, covered be∣tween two clouds, shewed but a dim light, and with his temperate beams, gave Don-Quixote leave, without heat or trouble, to relate to his two conspicuous Auditors, what hee had seen in Montesino's Cave; and hee began as followeth: About a twelve or fourteen mens heights in the profunditie of this Dungeon, on the right hand, there is a concavitie and space able to contain a Cart, Mules and all; some light there comes into it by certain chinks and loop-holes, which answer to it a farre off in the Superficies of the earth; this space and concavitie saw I, when I was weary and angry to see my self hanging by the rope, to goe down to that obscure, region without being carried a sure or known way; so I determined to enter into it, and to rest a little; I cryed out unto you, that you should let down no more rope till I bade you; but it seemed you heard me not: I went gathering up the rope you let down to me, and rowling of it up into a heap, sate me down upon it very pensative, thinking with my self what I might doe to get to the bottome; and being in this thought and confusion, upon a suddain (without any former inclination in me) a most profound sleep came upon me, and when I least thought of it, without knowing how, nor which way, I awaked out of it, and found my self in the midest of the fairest, most pleasant, and delightfull Medow that ever Nature created, or the wisest humane discretion can imagine; I snuffed mine eyes, wiped them, and saw that I was not asleep, but really awake, notwithstanding I felt upon my head and my brest, to bee assured if I were there my self or ••p in person, or that it were some illusion, or counterfeit; but my tounching, feeling, and my reasonable discourse that I made to my self certified me, that I was then present, the same that I am now.

By and by I saw a Princely and sumptuous Palace or Castle, whose walls and bat∣tlements seemed to bee made of transparent Cristall, from whence (upon the opening of two great gates) I saw that there came towards me a reverend old man, clad in a tawny bayes Frock, that hee dragged upon the ground: over his shoulders and brest hee wore a Tippet of green sattin, like your fellows of Colledges; and upon his cap a black Milan Bonnet, and his hoary beard reached down to his gyrdle; hee had no kinde of weapon in his hand, but only a Rosary of Beads, somewhat bigger then rea∣sonable Wall-nuts, and the Credo-Beads, about the bignesse of Ostrich eggs; his coun∣tenance, pace, gravitie, and his spreading presence, each thing by it self, and all together, suspended and admired.

Hee came to me, and the first thing hee did, was to imbrace me straightly, and forth∣with said; It is long since (renowned Knight, Don-Quixote de la Mancha) that wee who live in these inchanted Desarts have hoped to see thee, that thou mightest let the World know what is contained here, and inclosed in this profound Cave which thou hast entred, called Montesino's Cave; an exploit reserved only to bee attempted by thy invincible Heart and stupendious Courage: Come with me thou most illustrious

Knight, for I will shew thee the wonders that this transparent Castle doth conceal, of which I am the Governour, and perpetuall chief Warder, as being the same Monte∣sinos, from whom the Cave takes name.

Scarce had hee told me that hee was Montesinos, when I asked him, Whether it were true that was bruited here in the world above, that hee had taken his great friend Durandartes heart out of the midest of his bosome with a little Dagger, and carried it to the Lady Belerm•• (as hee willed) at the instant of his death? He answered me, that all was true, but only that of the Dagger; for it was no Dagger, but a little Stilletto as sharp as a Nawle.

Belike (quoth Sancho) it was of Ramon de Hozes the Sevillians making. I know not (sayd Don-Quixote) but 'twas not of that Stilletto-maker, for hee lived but the other day, and that battell of Roncesualles, where this accident happened, was many yeeres since: but this averring is of no importance or let, neither alters the truth, or Stories text.

You say right (quoth the Scholler) for I hearken with the greatest delight in the world. With no lesse doe I tell it you (sayd Don-Quixote) and proceede; The venerable Montesinos brought me into the Cristalline Palace, where in a low Hall, ex∣ceeding fresh and coole, all of Alablaster, was a great Sepulcher of Marble, made with singular Art, upon which I saw a Knight layd at length, not of Brasse, Marble, or Jaspar, as you use to have in other tombes, but of pure flesh and bone, hee held his right hand (which was somewhat hairy and sinowy, a signe that the owner was very strong) upon his heart-side, and before I asked Montesinos ought, that saw mee in suspence, beholding the tombe, hee said:

This is my friend Durandarte, the flower and mirror of Chivalrie, of the enamou∣red and valiant Knights of his time: Hee is kept here inchanted, as my selfe and ma∣ny more Knights and Ladies are, by Merlin [For so I translate it, to shew the Au∣thours mistake.] that French Enchanter; who, they say, was sonne to the Devill, but as I beleeve hee was not so, only hee knew more then the Devill. Why or how hee enchanted us, no body knowes, which the times will bring to light, that I hope are not farr off: all that I admire is, (since I know for certaine, as it is now day, that Duran∣darte dyed in my armes, and that after hee was dead, I tooke out his heart, and surely it weighed above two pounds; for according to naturall Philosophy, hee that hath the biggest heart, is more valiant then hee that hath but a lesse: which being so, and that this Knight died really) how hee complaines and sighes sometimes as if hee were alive? Which said, the wretched Durandarte, crying out aloud, said; Oh my Cousin Montesinos, the last thing that I requested you when I was dying, and my soule de∣parting; was, That you would carry my heart to Belerma, taking it out of my bosome, either with ponyard or dagger: which when the venerable Montesinos heard, hee kneeled before the greeved Knight, and with teares in his eyes, said; Long since, Oh Durandarte, long since my dearest Cousin, I did what you en-joyn'd mee in that bitter day of our losse; I tooke your heart, as well as I could, without leaving the least part of it in your brest: I wiped it with a laced handkerchiefe, and posted with it towards France, having first layd you in the bosome of the earth, with so many teares as was sufficient to wash my hands, or to wipe off the bloud from them, which I had gotten by stirring them in your entrailes: and for more assurance that I did it, my dearest Cousin, at the first place I came to from Roncesualle, I cast salt upon your heart, that it might not stinke, and might bee fresh, and embalmed when it should come to the presence of the Lady Belerma, who with you and mee, Guadiana your Squire, the waiting-woman Ruydera, and her seven Daughters, and her two Neeces, and many other of your acquaintances and friends, have beene enchanted heere by Mer∣lin that Wizard long since, and though it bee above five hundred yeeres agoe, yet none of us is dead; only Ruydera, her Daughters and Neeces are wanting, whom by rea∣son of their lamentation. Merlin that had compassion on them, turned them into so many Lakes now living in the world: and in the Province of Mancha they are cal∣led the Lakes of Ruydera; seven belong to the Kings of Spaine, and the two Neeces

to the Knights of the most holy Order of Saint Iohn. Guadiana your Squire, wailing in like manner this mis-hap, was turned into a River that bore his owne name, who when hee came to the superficies of the earth, and saw the Sun in another heaven, such was his griefe to have left you, that hee straight plunged himselfe into the entrailes of the earth: but, as it is not possible for him to leave his naturall Current, sometimes hee appeares and shewes himselfe, where the Sunne and men may see him. The afore∣saide Lakes do minister their waters to him, with which, and many others, hee enters Portugall in pompe: but which way so-ere hee goes, hee shewes his sorrow and melan∣choly, and contemnes the breeding of dainty fish in his waters, and such as are e∣steemed, but only muddie and unsavorie, farre differing from those of golden Tagus; and what I now tell you, Cousin mine, I have told you often, and since you answer mee nothing, I imagine you eyther beleeve mee not, or not heare mee; for which (God knowes) I am heartily sorry. One newes I will let you know, which though perhaps it may not any way lighten your griefe, yet it will no way increase it: Know, that you have here in your presence, (open your eyes and you shall see him) that famous Knight, of whom Merlin prophesied such great matters, that Don-Quixote de la Mancha, I say, that now newly and more happily then former Ages, hath rai∣sed the long forgotten Knight Errantry, by whose meanes and favour, it may bee, that wee also may bee dis-inchanted; for great exploits are reserved for great Personages. And if it be otherwise (answered the grieved Durandarte) with a faint and low voyce, if it bee otherwise, oh Cousin, I say, Patience and shuffle: [Patiencia ybaraiar. A Metaphor taken from Card-players, who when they lose, cry to the dealer, Patience, and shuffle the Cards.] and turning on one side, hee returned to his accustomed silence, without speaking one word.

By this wee heard great howling and moane, accompanied with deepe sighes, and short-breath'd accents: I turned mee about, and saw that in another roome there came passing by the Christall waters, a procession of a company of most beautifull Damzels, in two rankes, all clad in mourning, with Turbants upon their heads, af∣ter the Turkish fashion; at last, and in the end of the rankes, there came a Lady, who by her majesty appear'd so, clothed in like manner in blacke, with a white dressing on her head, so large, that it kissed the very ground. Her Turbant was twice as bigg as the bigest of the rest: shee was somewhat beetle-brow'd, flat-nosed, wide mouth'd, but red lipped: her teeth, for sometimes shee discovered them, seemed to bee thin, and not very well placed, though they were as white as blanch'd Almonds: in her hand shee carried a fine cloth, and within it (as might be perceived) a mommied Heart, by reason of the dry embalming of it: Montesinos told me, that all those in that procession were servants to Durandarte and Belerma that were there enchanted with their Masters; and that shee that came last with the linnen cloth and the heart in her hand, was the Lady Belerma, who, together with her Damzels, four dayes in the week did make that procession, singing, or to say truer, howling their Dirges over the body and grieved heart of his Cousin; and if now shee appeared somewhat foul to me, or not so fair as Fame hath given out, the cause was, her bad nights, but worse dayes that shee in∣dured in that enchantment, as I might see by her deep-sunk eyes, and her broken com∣plexion, and her monethly disease, is not the cause of these (an ordinary thing in wo∣men) for it is many moneths since, and many yeers that shee hath not had it, not known what it is; but the grief that shee hath in her own heart, for that shee carries in her hand continually, which renews and brings to her remembrance, the unfortunatenesse of her lucklesse Lover; for if it were not for this, scarce would the famous Dulcinea del Toboso equall her in Beauty, Wit, or livelinesse, that is so famous in the Mancha, and all the world over. Not too fast (then said I) Signior Don Montesinos, on with your story as befits; for you know all comparisons are odious; and so leave your comparing; the peerlesse Dulcinea del Toboso is what shee is, and the Lady Belerma is what shee is and hath been; and let this suffice.

To which hee answered, Pardon me Signior Don-Quixote, for I confesse I did ill, and not well, to say the Lady Dulcinea would scarce equall the Lady Belerma, since it

had beene sufficient, that I understood (I know not by what ayme) that you are her Knight, enough to have made mee bite my Tongue, before I had compared her with any thing but Heaven it selfe. With this satisfaction that Montesinos gave mee, my heart was free from that sodaine passion I had, to heare my Mistresse compared to Belerma.

And I marvell (said Sancho) that you got not to the old Carl aud bang'd his bones and pul'd his beard, without leaving him a haire in it.

No friend Sancho, said hee, it was not fit for mee to doe so; for we are all bound to reverence our Elders, although they bee no Knights, and most of all when they are so, and are enchanted. I know well enough, I was not behinde hand with him in other questions and answers that passed betweene us. Then said the Scholer, I know not Sig∣nior Don-Quixote, how you in so little time (as it is since you went downe) have seene so many things, and spoken and answered so much. How long is it (quoth hee) since I went downe? A little more then an houre (said Sancho.) That cannot bee re∣plyed Don-Quixote, because it was Morning and Evening, and Evening and Morning three times; so that by my account, I have beene three dayes in those parts so remote and hidden from our sight. Surely my Master, quoth Sancho, is in the right; for as all things that befall him are by way of Enchantment, so perhaps that which appeares to us, but an houre, is to him there three nights and three dayes. Hee hath hit it (said Don-Quixote.) And have you eat Sir in all this time (quoth the Scholer?) Not a bit (quoth Don-Quixote) neyther have I beene hungry, or so much as thought of eating. And the Enchanted, eat they, said the Scholer? No, said hee, neyther are they troubled with your greater excrements, although it bee probable that their nayles, their beards, and their hayres grow; Sleepe they haply said Sancho? No indeede said Don-Quixote, at least these three dayes that I have beene with them, not one of them hath closed his eyes, nor I neyther. That fits the Proverb (quoth Sancho) which sayes, You shall know the Person by his company; you have beene amongst the Enchanted, and those that watch and fast; no mervail therefore though you neyther slept nor eate whilest you were amongst them; but pray Sir pardon me if I say, God (or the Devill, I was about to say) take mee, if I beleeve a word of all this you have spoken. Why not, said the Scholer? Doe you thinke Signior Don-Quixote would lie to us, for though hee would, hee hath not had time to compose or invent such a million of lies? I doe not beleeve, quoth Sancho, that my Master lies: But what doe you beleeve then quoth Don-Quixote? Mary I beleeve (said Sancho) that that Merlin, or those Enchanters that En∣chanted all that rabble, that you say you have seene and conversed with there below, clapt into your apprehension or memorie all this Machine that you have told us, and all that remaines yet to bee told. All this may bee Sancho, said Don-Quixote, but 'tis o∣therwise; for what I have told I saw with these eyes, and felt with these hands: But what wilt thou say when I shall tell thee, That amongst infinite other matters and won∣ders that Montesinos shewed mee, which at more le••sure, and at fitting time, in pro∣cesse of our journey I shall tell thee: Hee shewed mee three Country-wenches, that went leaping and frisking up and down those pleasant fields, like Goates, and I scarce saw them, when I perceived the one was the peerelesse Dulcinea, and the other two, the selfe same that wee spoke to when wee left Toboso. I asked Montesinos whether hee knew them; who answered me, Not; but that sure they were some Ladies of quality there Enchanted, that but lately appeared in those fields, and that it was no wonder, for that there were many others of former times, and these present, that were En∣chanted in strange and different shapes, amongst whom hee knew Queene Gui∣nivere, and her woman Quintani••na filling Lansarotes Cuppes when hee came from Britaine.

When Sancho heard his Master thus farre, it made him starke mad, and ready to burst with laughter; for by reason that hee knew the truth of Dulcineaes Enchantment, as having beene himselfe the Enchanter, and the raiser of that Tale, hee did undoubtedly ratifie his beliefe, that his Master was madde and out of his wits; and so told him: In an ill time, and dismall day (Patron mine) went you downe into the other world,

and at an ill season met with Signior Montesinos, that hath returned you in this pickle: you were well enough here above, in your right sences as God hath given them you, uttering sentences, and giving good counsaile every foote, and not as now, telling the greatest unlikelihoods that can bee ima∣gined.

Because I know thee Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) I make no account of thy words. Nor I of yours (said hee;) you may strike or kill me if you will, either for those I have spoken, or those I mean to speak, if you doe not correct and amend your self. But pray tell me Sir, whilest wee are at quiet, How knew you it was our Mistris? Spoke you to her? What said shee? And what answered you? I knew her (said Don-Quixote) by the same clothes shee had on at such time as thou shewd'st her mee; I spoke to her, but shee gave me not a word, but turned her back, and scudded away so fast, that a flight would not have overtaken her: I meant to have followed her, and had done it but that Montesinos told me it was in vain, and the rather, because it was now high time for me to return out of the Cave. Hee told me likewise, that in processe of time hee would let me know the means of disinchanting Durandarte, and Belerma, and himself, together with all the rest that were there: But that which most grieved me, was, that whilest I was thus talking with Montesinos, one of the unfortunate Dulcinea's companions came on one side of me (I not perceiving it) and with teares in her eyes and hollow voyce said to me; My Lady Dulcinea del Toboso commends her to you, and desires to know how you doe; and withall, because shee is in great necessity, shee desires you with all earnestnesse, thou you would bee pleased to lend her three shillings upon this new Cotten Petticoat that I bring you, or what you can spare; for shee will pay you again very shortly. This Message held me in suspence and admiration: so that turning to Signior Montesinos, I asked him, Is it possible, Signior, that those of your better sort that bee enchanted are in want? To which hee answered, Beleeve me, Sig∣nior Don-Quixote, this necessity rangeth and extends it self every where, and over-takes all men, neither spares shee the Enchanted; and therefore since the Lady Dulcinea demands these three shillinigs of you, and that the pawn seems to bee good, lend them her, for sure shee is much straightned. I will take no pawn (quoth I) neither can I lend what she requires; for I have but two shillings: These I gave, which were the same San∣cho, that thou gavest me t'other day, for almes to the poor we met: and I told the Maid, Friend, tell your Mistris that I am sorry with all my heart for her wants, and I would I were a Fucar to relieve them: [Fucares were a rich Family and name in Germanie that maintained a bank of monies in Spain, and still used to furnish Philip the 2. with mo∣nies in his Warres:] and let her know that I neither can, nor may have health, wanting her pleasing company and discreet conversation; and that I desire her as earnestly as may bee, that this her captive Servant and way-beaten Knight may see and treat with her.

You shall also say, that when shee least thinks of it, shee shall heare say, that I have made an Oath and Vow, such as was the Marquis his of Mantua, to revenge his Ne∣phue Baldwine, when hee found him ready to give up the Ghost in the midest of the Mountain; which was, Not to eat his meat with Napkins, and other flim-flams added thereunto, till hee had revenged his death: And so swear I, Not to be quiet, till I have travelled all the seven partitions of the World, more Punctually then Prince Don Manuel of Portugall, till I have disinchanted her. All this and more you owe to my Mistris, said the Damzell; and taking the two shillings, instead of making me a cour∣tesie, shee fetch'd a caper two yards high in the ayre.

Blessed God! (Sancho cryed out) and is it possible that Enchanters and Enchant∣ments should so much prevaile upon him, as to turn his right understanding into such a wilde madnesse? Sir, Sir, for Gods love have a care of your self, and look to your credit: beleeve not in these bubbles that have lessened and crazed your wits. Out of thy love Sancho, thou speakest this (said Don-Quixote) and for want of experience in the world, all things that have never so little difficultie seem to thee to bee impossible: but time will come (as I have told thee already) that I shall relate some things that I

have seen before, which may make thee beleeve what I have said, which admits no reply or controversie.

CHAP. XXIV.

Where are recounted a thousand flim-flams, as impertinent as necessary to the understanding of this famous History.

THe Translator of this famous Historie out of his Originall, written by Cid Hamete Benengeli, sayes; That when hee came to the last Chap∣ter going before, these words were written in the margin by the same Hamete. I cannot beleeve or bee perswaded that all that is written in the antecedent Chapter hapned so punctually to the valorous Don-Quixote: the reason is, because all Adventures hitherto have been accidentall and probable; but this of the Cave, I see no likelihood of the truth of it, as being so unreasonable: Yet to think Don-Quixote would lye, being the worthiest Gentleman, and noblest Knight of his time, is not possible; for hee would not lye though hee were shot to death with arrows. On the other side I consider, that hee related it, with all the aforesaid circumstances, and that in so short a time hee could not frame such a Machina of fopperies; and if this Adventure seem to bee Apocrypha, the fault is not mine; so that leaving it indifferent, I here set it down. Thou, Oh Reader, as thou art wise, judge as thou thinkest good; for I can doe no more; though one thing bee certain, that when hee was upon his death-bed, hee disclaimed this Ad∣venture, and said, That hee had only invented it, because it suted with such as hee had read of in his Histories: so hee proceeds, saying:

The Scholler wondred, as well at Sancho's boldnesse as his Masters patience; but hee thought, that by reason of the joy that hee received in having seen his Mistris Dulcinea (though enchanted) that softnesse of condition grew upon him; for had it been other∣wise, Sancho spoke words that might have grinded him to powder; for in his opinion hee was somewhat sawcy with his Master, to whom hee said:

Signior Don-Quixote, I think the journey that I have made with you very well im∣ploy'd, because in it I have stored up four things: The first is, the having known your self, which I esteem as a great happinesse: The second, to have known the secrets of this Montesinos Cave, with the transformations of Guadiana and Ruydera's Lakes, which may help me in my Spanish Ovid I have in hand: The third is, to know the an∣tiquity of Card-playing, which was used at least in time of the Emperour Charles the Great, as may bee collected out of the words you say Durandarte used, when, after a long speech between him and Montesinos, hee awakened saying, Patience and shuffle: and this kinde of speaking hee could not learn when hee was Enchanted, but when hee lived in France, in time of the aforesaid Emperour: and this observation comes in pudding time for the other Book that I am making, which is, My supply to Polydore Vergil in the invention of Antiquities, and I believe in his hee left out Cards which I will put in, as a matter of great importance, especially having so authentike an Authour as Signior Durandarte. The fourth is, to have known for a cer∣tain the true spring of the River Guadiana, which hath hitherto beene con∣cealed.

You have reason (said Don-Quixote:) but I would fain know of you, now that it pleased God to give you abilities to print your Books, To whom will you direct them? You have Lords and Grandees [A name given to men of Title, as Dukes Marquisses, or Earls in Spain, whose only priviledge is to stand covered before the King,] in Spain (said the Scholler) to whom I may direct them. Few of them (said Don-Quixote) not

because they doe not deserve the Dedications, but because they will not admit of them, not to obliege themselves to the satisfaction that is due to the Authours Paines and Courtesie. One Prince I knowe that may supply the deserts of the rest, with such advantage, that should I speake of it; it might stirre up envie in some no∣ble Breasts: But let this rest till some fit time, and let us looke out where wee may lodge to night.

Not farre from hence (said the Scholer) there is a Hermitage, where dwels a Her∣mite that they say hath beene a Souldier, and is thought to bee a good Christian, and very discreete and charitable. Besides the Hermitage, he hath a little House which hee hath built at his owne charge; yet though it bee little, it is fit to receive guests. Hath hee any Hens trow, said Sancho? Few Hermits are without them, quoth Don-Quixote, for your Hermites now a dayes, are not like those that lived in the Desarts of Aegypt, that were clad in Palme-leaves, and lived upon the rootes of the Earth, but mistake me not, that because I speak well of them, I should speak ill of these, only the penetency of these times comes not neere those; yet for ought I know, all are good, at least I think so, and if the worst come to the worst, your Hypocrite that fains himself good, doth lesse hurt then he that sins in publique.

As they were thus talking, they might espy a Foot-man comming towards them, go∣ing a pace, and beating with his wand a hee-Mule laden with Lances & Halberts; when he came neere them, he saluted them and passed on; but Don-Quixote said to him; honest fellow stay, for mee thinks you make your Mule goe faster then needes. I cannot stay Sir, said he, because these weapons that you see I carry, must be used to morrow Mor∣ning, so I must needs goe on my way, Farewell: But if you will know why I carry them, I shall lodge to night in the Vente above the Hermitage, [Ventes places in Spain, in barren unpeopled parts for lodging, like our beggerly Alehouses upon the high-waies,] and if you goe that way, there you shall have mee, and I will tell you wonders; and so once more, Farewell. So the Mule pricked on so fast; that Don Quixote had no lei∣sure to aske him what wonders they were; and as hee was curious, and alwaies desirous of novelties, hee tooke order that they should presently goe and passe that night in the Vente, without touching at the Hermitage, where the Scholer would have stayed that night.

So all three of them mounted, went toward the Vente, whither they reached some∣what before it grew darke, and the Scholer invited Don-Quixote to drinke a sup by the way at the Hermitage; which as soone as Sancho heard, hee made haste with Dapple, as did Don-Quixote and the Scholer likewise: but as Sanchoes ill-luck would have it, the Hermite was not at home, as was told them by the under-Hermit; they asked him whe∣ther hee had any of the deerer sort of wine? who answered, his Master had none; but if they would have any cheape water, hee would give it them with a good will. If my thirst would be quench'd with water, we might have had Wels to drinke at by the way. Ah Camachoes marriage, and Don Diegoes plenty, how oft shall I misse you? Now they left the Hermitage, and spurred toward the Vente, and a little before them, they overtooke a youth that went not very fast before them; so they overtooke him: he had a sword upon his shoulder, and upon it, as it seemed, a bundle of cloathes, as breeches and cloake, and a shirt; for hee wore a velvet jerkin that had some kinde of remainder of Sattin, and his shirt hung out, his stockins were of silke, and his shooes square at toe, after the Court fashion, he was about eighteene yeeres of age, and active of body to see to; to passe the tediousnesse of the way, he went singing short peeces of Songs, and as they came neer him he made an end of one, which the Scholer (they say learnt by heart) and it was this:

To the Warres I goe for necessitie, At home would I tarry if I had Monie.

Don-Quixote was the first that spoke to him, saying; You goe very naked, Sir Gal∣lant, And whither a Gods-name? Let's know, if it be your pleasure to tell us? To

which the Youth answered, Heat and Poverty are the causes that I walke so light, and my journey is to the Wars. Why for poverty (quoth Don-Quixote) for heat it may well be, Sir said the Youth, I carry in this bundle a payre of slops, fellowes to this Jer∣kin, if I weare um by the way, I shall doe my self no credit with them when I come to any Town, and I have no money to buy others with, so as well for this, as to aire my selfe, I goe till I can overtake certaine Companies of Foote, which are not above twelve leagues from hence, where I shall get mee a place, and shall not want carriages to travell in, till I come to our imbarking place, which they say, must bee in Cartagina, and I had rather have the King to my Master, and serve him, then any beggerly-Courtier. And, pray tell mee, have you any extraordinary pay, said the Scholer.

Had I served any Grandee, or man of qualitie (said the Youth) no doubt I should; for that comes by your serving good Masters, that out of the Scullary men come to bee Livetenants or Captaines, or to have some good pay: but I alwaies had the ill-luck to serve your shag-rags and up-starts, whose alowance was so bare and short, that one halfe of it still was spent in starching me a Ruffe, and it is a miracle, that one ventring Page amongst a hundred, should ever get any reasonable Fortune. But tell mee friend quoth Don-Quixote, is it possible, that in all the time you served, you never got a Li∣very? Two said the Page: but as he that goes out of a Monastery, before he professeth hath his habit taken from him, and his clothes given him back; so my Masters returned me mine, when they had ended their businesses, for which they came to the Court, and returned to their own homes, and with-held their Liveries which they had only shewed for ostentation.

A notable Espilooherio [Cullionry,] as saith your Italian (quoth Don-Quixote) for all that, thinke your selfe happy that you are come from the Court, with so good an intention, for there is nothing in the world better, nor more profitable•• then to serve God first, and next your Prince and naturall Master, especially in the practise of Armes, by which, if not more wealth, yet at least, more honour is obtained then by Learning: as I have said many times; That though Learning hath raysed more Houses then Armes, yet your Sword-men have a kinde of (I know not what) advantage above Scholers, with a kind of splendor, that doth advantage them over all.

And beare in your minde what I shall now tell you, which shall bee much for your good and much lighten you in your travells, that is, not to think upon adversity; for the worst that can come is death, which if it be a good death, the best fortune of all is to die. Iulius Caesar that brave Romane Emperour, being asked, Which was the best death? answered, A suddain one, and unthought of; and though hee answered like a Gentile, and void of the knowledge of the true God, yet hee said well to save humane feeling a labour; for say you should bee slain in the first skirmish, either with Canon shot, or blown up with a mine, what matter is it? All is but dying, and there's an end: And as Terence sayes, A Souldier slain in the Field, shews better then alive and safe in flight; and so much the more famous is a good Souldier, by how much hee obeyes his Captains, and those that may command him; and mark childe, it is better for a Soul∣dier to smell of his Gun-powder then of Civet: and when old age comes upon you in this honourable exercise, though you bee full of scars, maimed, or lame, at least you shall not bee without honour, which poverty cannot diminish: and besides, there is order taken now, That old and maimed Souldiers may bee relieved; neither are they dealt withall like those mens Negars, that when they are old and can doe their Masters no service, they (under colour of making them free) turn them out of doors and make themslaves to hunger, from which nothing can free them but death: [Hee describes the right subtil and cruel nature of his damned Country-men:] and for this time I will say no more to you, but only get up behinde me till you come to the Vente, and there you shall sup with me, and to morrow take your Journey, which God speed as your desires deserve.

The Page accepted not of his invitement, to ride behinde him; but for the sup∣per hee did: And at this season (they say) Sancho sayd to himselfe; Lord defend thee,

Master; And is it possible, that a man that knowes to speake such, so many, and so good things (as hee hath sayd here) should say hee hath seene such impossible foole∣ries, as hee hath told us of Montesino's Cave. Well, wee shall see what will become of it. And by this they came to the Vente just as it was night, for which Sancho was glad, because too his Master took it to bee a true Vente, and not•• Castle, as hee was wont. They were no sooner entred, when Don Quixote asked the Venter for the man with the Lances and Halberds: [Ventero, the Master of the Vente:] who answered him, Hee was in the stable looking to his Moyle: Sancho and the Scholler did the same to their Asses, giving Don-Quixotes Rozinante the best manger and roome in the stable.

CHAP. XXV.

Of the Adventure of the Braying, and the merry one of the Puppet∣man, with the memorable soothsaying of the prophesying Ape.

DON-Quixote stood upon thornes, till hee might heare and know the promised wonders, of the man that carried the Armes, and went where the Venter had tolde him, to seeke him; where finding him, hee sayd; That by all meanes hee must tell him presently, what hee had promised him upon the way. The man answered him, The story of the wonders requires more leisure, and must not bee told thus standing: good Sir let me make an end of provandring my Beast, and I will tell you things that shall admire you.

Let not that hinder you (quoth Don-Quixote) for I'le helpe you: and so hee did, sifting his Barley, and cleansing the manger (a humility that obliged the fellow to tell him his tale heartily:) thus sitting downe upon a bench, Don-Quixote by him, with the Scholler, Page, and Sancho, and the Venter, for his complete Senate and Auditory, hee began:

You shall understand, that in a towne, some foure leagues and an halfe from this Vente, it fell out, that an Alderman there, by a trick and wile of a wench, his maid-ser∣vant (which were long to tell how) lost his Asse, and though the sayd Alderman used all manner of diligence to finde him, it was impossible. His Asse was wanting (as the publike voyce and fame goeth) fifteene dayes: when the Alderman that lost him, being in the market-place, another Alderman of the same towne told him; Pay mee for my news, Gossip, for your Asse is forth-comming. I will willingly, Gossip (said the other) but let mee know where hee is? This morning (said the Second) I saw him upon the mountaines without his pack-saddle, or any other furniture, so leane, that it was pitty to see him, I would have gotten him before mee, and have driven him to you, but hee is so mountainous and wilde, that when I made towards him, hee flew from mee, and got into the thickest of the wood: If you please, wee will both returne and seeke him, let mee first put up this Asse at home, and I'le come by and by. You shall doe mee a great kindnesse (quoth hee) and I will repay you (if neede bee) in the like kinde.

With all these circumstances, just as I tell you, all that know the truth, relate it: In fine, the two Aldermen, afoot and hand to hand, went to the Hils, and comming to the place where they thought to finde the Asse, they missed of him, neither could they finde him, for all their seeking round about. Seeing then there was no appea∣rance of him, the Alderman that had seene him, sayd to the other; Harke you, Gossip, I have a trcike in my head, with which wee shall finde out this Beast, though hee bee hidden under ground, much more if in the mountaine: Thus it is, I can bray excel∣lent

well, and so can you a little: well, 'tis a match. A little, Gossip (quoth the o∣ther) Verily, I'le take no ods of any body, nor of an Asse himself. We shall see then (said the second Alderman) for my plot is, that you goe on one side of the hill, and I on the other, so that wee may compasse it round, now and then you shall bray, and so will I, and it cannot bee, but that your Asse will answer one of us, if hee bee in the mountaine,

To this the owner of the Asse answered; I tell you Gossip, the device is rare, and worthy your great wit: so dividing themselves (according to the agreement) it fell out, that just at one instant both brayed, and each of them cozened with the others braying, came to look one another thinking now there had been news of the Asse: and as they met, the Loser said; Is it possible Gossip, that it was not mine Asse that bray∣ed? No, 'twas I, said the other. Then (replyed the Owner) Gossip, between you and an Asse there is no difference touching your braying; for in my life I never heard a thing more naturall.

These praises and extolling (said the other) doe more properly belong to you then me; for truely you may give two to one, to the best and skillfullest Brayer in the world; for your sound is lofty, you keep very good time, and your cadences thick and suddain: To conclude, I yeeld my self vanquished, and give you the prize and glory of this rare abilitie. Well (said the Owner) I shall like my self the better for this hereafter, and shall think I know something, since I have gotten a qualitie; for though I ever thought I brayed well, yet I never thought I was so excellent at it as you say.

Let me tell you (said the other) there bee rare abilities in the world that are lost and ill imployed in those that will not good themselves with them. Ours (quoth the Owner) can doe us no good but in such businesses as wee have now in hand, and pray God in this they may.

This said, they divided themselves again, and returned to their braying, and every foot they were deceived and met, till they agreed upon a counter-signe, that to know it was themselves and not the Asse, they should bray twice together: So that with this doubling their brayes, every stitch-while they compassed the hill, the lost Asse not an∣swering so much as by the least signe: but how could the poor and ill-thriving Beast answer, when they found him in the Thicket eaten with Wolve? And his Owner seeing him, said; I marvelled hee did not answer; for if hee had not been dead, hee would have brayed, if hee had heard us, or else hee had beene no Asse: But i'faith Gossip, since I have heard your delicate braying, I think my pains well bestowed in looking this Asse, though I have found him dead.

'Tis in a very good hand Gossip (said the other: [En buenna mano esta. Alluding to two that strive to make one another drink first,] And if the Abbot sing well, the little Monk comes not behinde him: [The one as very an Asse as the other.] With this all comfortlesse and hoarce, home they went, where they told their Friends, Neighbours, and Acquaintances what had hapned in the search for the Asse, the one exaggerating the others cunning in braying; all which was known and spread abroad in the neighbouring Towns: And the Devell that alwaies watcheth how hee may sow and scatter Quarrels and Discord every where, raising brabbles in the aire, and making great Chimeraes of nothing, made the People of other Towns, that when they saw any of ours, they should bray, as hitting us in the teeth with our Aldermans braying.

The Boyes at length fell to it, which was, as if it had faln into the jaws of all the Divels in H••ll: so this braying spread it self from one town to the other, that they which are borne in our Town, are as well known as the Begger knows his Dish; and this unfortunate scoff hath proceeded so far, that many times those that were scoffed at have gone out armed in a whole Squadron, to give Battell to the Scoffers, without fear or wit, neither King nor Keiser being able to prevent them: I beleeve that to morrow or next day those of my Town will bee in Field (to wit, the Brayers) against the next Town, which is two leagues off, one of them that doth most persecute us; and because wee might bee well provided, I have bought those Halberds and

Launces that you saw. And these bee the wonders that I said I would tell you of; and if these bee not so, I know not what may.

And here the poor fellow ended his discourse; and now there entred at the door of the Vente one in Chamois, in hose and doublet, and called aloud; Mine Host, have you any Lodging? for here comes the Prophesying Ape, and the Motion of Meli∣sendra. Body of me (quoth the Venter) here is Master Peter, wee shall have a brave night of it: (I had forgot to tell how this Master Peter had his left eye and half his cheek covered with a patch of green Taffata, a signe that all that side was sore:) So the Venter proceeded, saying; You are welcome Master Peter; Where's the Ape and the Motion that I see um not? They are not farre off (quoth the Chamois man) only I am come before to know if you have any lodging.

I would make bold with the Duke of Alva himselfe (sayd the Venter) rather then Master Peter should bee disappoynted: let your Ape and your Motion come; for wee have ghests here to night, that will pay for seeing that, and the Apes abilities. In good time (sayd hee of the Patch) for I will moderate the price, so my charges this night bee pay'd for; and therefore I will cause the Cart where they are, to drive on: with this hee went out of the Vente againe. Don-Quixote straight asked the Venter, What Master Peter that was, and what Motion, or Ape those he brought?

To which the Venter answered; Hee is a famous Puppet-Master, that this long time hath gone up and downe these parts of Aragon, shewing this motion of Melisendra, and Don Gayferos, one of the best histories that hath been represented these many yeeres in this Kingdome. Besides, hee hath an Ape, the strangest that ever was; for if you aske him any thing, hee marketh what you aske, and gets up upon his Masters shoulder, and tells him in his eare by way of answer, what hee was asked: which Master Peter declares: hee tells things to come, as well as things past, and though hee doe not alwaies hit upon the right, yet hee seldome erres, and makes us beleeve the Divill is in him: Twelve pence for every answer wee give, if the Ape doe answer, I mean, if his Master answer for him, after hee hath whispered in his eare; so it is thought that Master Peter is very rich, hee is a notable fellow, and (as your Italian saith) a boon companion; hath the best life in the world, talkes his share for six men, and drinks for a dozen, all at his Tongues charge, his Motion, and his Apes.

By this, Master Peter was return'd, and his Motion and Ape came in a small car∣riage; his Ape was of a good bignesse, without a tayle, and his bumm as bare as a Felt, but not very ill-favoured. Don-Quixote scarce beheld him, when he demanded, Master Prophesier, What fish doe we catch? Tell us what will become of us, and here is twelve-pence, which he commanded Sancho to give Master Peter; who answered for the Ape and said: Sir, this beast answeres not, nor gives any notice of things to come, of things past hee knowes something, and likewise a little of things present. Zwoo∣kers (quoth Sancho) I'le not give a farthing to know what is past: for who can tell that better then my selfe? and to pay for what I know, is most foolish: but since you say he knows things present, here's my twelve-pence, and let good-man Ape tell me what my wife Teresa Panca doth, and in what she busies her selfe.

Master Peter would not take his money, saying; I will not take your reward before hand, till the Ape hath first done his duty: So giving a clap or two with his right hand on his left shoulder; at one frisk the Ape got up, and laying his mouth to his eare, grated his teeth apace; and having shewed this feat the space of a Creeds saying, at another frisk hee leap'd to the ground, and instantly Master Peter very hastily ran and kneeled down before Don-Quixote, and embracing his legs, said; These legs I embrace as if they were Hercules Pillars: O famous reviver of the long forgotten Knight Erran∣try! Oh never sufficiently extolled Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha! Raiser of the Faint-hearted, Propper of those that Fall, the Staffe and Comfort of all the Unfortunate! Don Quixote was amazed, Sancho confused, the Scholler in suspence, the Page astonish'd, the Bray Towns-man all in a gaze, the Venter at his wits end, and all admiring that heard the Puppet-mans speech, who went on, saying:

And thou honest Sancho Panca, the best Squire to the best Knight of the world, re∣joyce, for thy Wife Teresa is a good Houswife, and at this time shee is dressing a pound of Flax; by the same token shee hath a good broken-mouth'd pot at her left side that holds a prettie scantling of Wine, with which shee easeth her labour.

I beleeve that very well (said Sancho) for shee is a good soul; and if shee were not jealous, I would not change her for the Gyantesse Andandona, that as my Master sayes, was a woman for the nonce: and my Teresa is one of those that will not pine her self, though her heirs smart for it.

Well, I say now (quoth Don-Quixote) hee that reads much and travells much, sees much and knows much: This I say; for who in the world could have perswaded me that Apes could Prophesie, which now I have seen with mine own eyes? for I am tho same Don Quixote that this Beast speakes of, although hee have beene somewhat too liberall in my praise: but howsoever I am I give God thanks that hee hath made me so relenting and compassionate; alwaies enclined to doe good to all, and hurt to no man.

If I had money (said the Page) I would ask Master Ape what should befall me in the Peregrination I have in hand. To which Master Peter answered, that was now risen from Don-Quixotes foot; I have told you once that this little Beast foretells not things to come; for if hee could, 'twere no matter for your money; for here is Signior Don Quixote present•• for whose sake I would forgoe all the interest in the world: and to shew my duety to him, and to give him delight, I will set up my Mo∣tion, and freely shew all the companie in the Vent some pastime gratis. Which the Venter hearing, unmeasurably glad, pointed him to a place where hee might set it up; which was done in an instant.

Don-Quixote liked not the Apes prophesying very well, holding it to bee frivolous, that an Ape should only tell things present, or not past, or to come. So whilest Ma∣ster Peter was fitting his Motion, Don-Quixote took Sancho with him to a corner of the Stable, and in private said:

Look thee Sancho, I have very well considered of this Apes strange qualitie, and finde that this Master Peter hath made a secret expresse compact with the Divell, to infuse this abilitie into the Ape, that hee may get his living by it, and when hee is rich, hee will give him his soul, which is that that this universall enemie of mankinde pretends: and that which induceth me to this belief, is, that the Ape answers not to things past, but only present; and the Divells knowledge attains to no more; for things to come hee knows not, only by conjecture: for God alone can distinguish the times and mo∣ments; and to him nothing is past, or to come; but all is present: Which being so, it is most certain that this Ape speaks by instinct from the Divell, and I wonder hee hath not been accused to the Inquisition, and examined, and that it hath not been pressed out of him, to know by what virtue this Ape Prophesieth; for certainly, neither hee nor his Ape are Astrologers, nor know how to cast Figures, which they call judiciary, so much used in Spain: for you have no paltry Woman, nor Page, nor Cobler that presumnes not to cast a Figure, as if it were one of the Knaves at Cards upon a Table, falsifying that wondrous Science with their ignorant lying.

I knew a Gentlewoman that asked one of these Figure-slingers, if a little foysting-Hound of hers should have any Puppies, and if it had, how many, and of what colour the Whelps should bee? To which my cunning-man (after hee had cast his Figure) an∣swered, That the Bitch should have young, and bring forth three little Whelps, the one Green, the other Carnation, and the third of a mix'd colour, with this Proviso, that shee should take the Dog between eleven and twelve of the clock at noon, or at night, which should bee on the Monday or the Saturday; and the successe was, that some two dayes after the Bitch dyed of a surfeit, and Master Figure-raiser was reputed in the Town a most perfect Judiciary, as all, or the greatest part of such men are. For all that (said Sancho) I would you would bid Master Peter ask his Ape, whether all were true that befell you in Montesino's Cave; for I think (under correction) all was cogging and lying, or at least but a dreame. All might bee (said Don-Quixote)

yet I will doe as thou doest advise mee, though I have one scruple re∣mayning.

Whilest they were thus communing, Master Peter came to call Don-Quixote, and to tell him that the Motion was now up, if hee would please to see it, which would give him content.

Don-Quixote told him his desire, and wished that his Ape might tell him, if certaine things that befell him in Montesinoes Cave were true, or but dreames; for himselfe was uncertaine whether. Master Peter, without answering a word, fetcht his Ape, and putting him before Don-Quixote and Sancho, said; Looke you Master Ape, Signi∣or Don-Quixote would have you tell him, whether certaine things that hapned to him in Montesinoes Cave were true or false? And making the accustomed signe, the Ape whipt upon his left shoulder, and seeming to speake to him in his eare, Master Peter streight interpreted. The Ape, Signior, sayes that part of those things are false, and part of them true, and this is all hee knowes touching this demand; and now his vir∣tue is gone from him, and if you will knowe any more, you must expect till Friday next, and then hee will answere you all you will aske, for his virtue will not returne till then.

Law ye there (quoth Sancho) did not I tell you that I could not beleeve that all you said of Montesinoes Cave could hold currant? The successe hereafter will deter∣mine that (quoth Don-Quixote) for time the discoverer of all things, brings every thing to the Sunnes light, though it bee hidden in the bosom of the earth; and now let this suffice, and let us goe see the Motion, for I beleeve we shall have some strange no∣veltie. Some strange one quoth Master Peter; this Motion of mine hath a thousand strange ones: I tell you Signior, it is one of the rarest things to be seen in the world; operibus credite & non verbis, and now to work for it is late, and we have much to doe, say and shew.

Don-Quixote and Sancho obeyed, and went where the Motion was set and opened, all full of little wax lights, that made it most sightly and glorious. Master Peter streight clapped himself within it, who was he that was to manage the Artificiall Puppets, and without stood his Boy to interpret and declare the mysteries of the Motion; in his hand he had a white wand, with which he pointed out the several shapes that came in and out. Thus all that were in the Vente being placed, and some standing over against the Moti∣on, Don-Quixote, Sancho, the Scholer and the Page, placed in the best seats; the Trudg∣man began to speak [El Truxaman. An Interpreter amongst the Turks, but here taken for any in generall] what shall be heard or seen, by him that shall heare or read the next Chapter.

CHAP. XXVI.

Of the delightfull Passage of the Puppet-play, and other pleasant matters.

HERE Tyrians and Troyans were all silent, I meane all the Spectators of the Motion had their eares hanged upon the Interpreters mouth, that should declare the wonders; by and by there was a great sound of Kettle-Drums and Trumpets, and a volly of great-shot within the Motion, which passing away briefly, the Boy began to rayse his voice and to say. This true History which is here represented to you, is taken word for out of the French Chronicles, and the Spa∣nish Romants, which are in every bodies mouth, and sung by Boyes up and downe the

streets. It treats of the liberty that Signior Don Gayferos gave to Melisendra his wife, that was imprisoned by the Moores in Spayne, in the City of Sansuena, which was then so called, and now Saragosa; and look you there, how Don Gayseros is playing at Ta∣bles, according to the Song;

Now Don Gayferos at Tables doth play, Vnmindfull of Melisendra away.

And that Personage that peeps out there with a Crowne on his head and a Scepter in his hand, is the Emperor Charlemain, the supposed father of the said Melisendra, who grieved with the sloth and neglect of his sonne in Law, comes to chide him; and marke with what vehemency and earnestnesse he rates him, as if he meant to give him halfe a dozen Cons with his Scepter; some Authors there be that say he did, and sound ones too: and after he had told him many things concerning the danger of his reputation, if he did not free his Spouse, 'twas said he told him, I have said enough, look to it. Look ye Sir, a∣gain, how the Emperor turns his back, and in what case he leaves Don Gayferos, who all enraged, flings the Tables and the table-men from him, and hastily calls for his Armour, and borrowes his Cosin-Germane Roldan his sword Durindana; who offers him his company in this difficult enterprize. But the valorous enraged Knight would not ac∣cept it, saying; that he is sufficient to free his Spouse, though she were put in the deepe centre of the earth, and now he goes in to Arm himself for his Journey.

Now turne your eyes to yonder Towre that appeares, for you must suppose it is one of the Towres of the Castle of Saragosa, which is now called the Aliaferia, and that La∣dy that appeares in the window, clad in a Moorish habit, is the peerlesse Melisendra, that many a time lookes toward France, thinking on Paris and her Spouse, the only comfort in her imprisonment. Behold also a strange accident now that happens, per∣haps never the like seen: see you not that Moore that comes faire and softly, with his finger in his mouth, behinde Melisendra? look what a smack he gives her in the midst of her lippes, and how sodainly she begins to spit, and to wipe them with her white smock-sleeves, and how she laments, and for very anguish despighteously rootes vp her faire hayres, as if they were to blame for this wickednesse. Marke you also that grave Moor that stands in that open Gallery, it is Marsilius King of Sansueuna, who when he saw the Moores saw cinesse, although he were a kinsman, and a great favorite of his, he commanded him straight to be apprehended, and to have two hundred stripes given him, and to be carried through the chiefe streetes in the Citie, with Minstrels before, and rods of Justice behinde; and looke ye how the Sentence is put in execution before the fault be scarce committed; for your Moores use not (as we doe) any legall procee∣ding. Childe, childe (cried Don-Quixote aloud) on with your story in a direct line, and fall not into your crookes and your transversals; for to verifie a thing I tell you there had neede to bee a Legall proceeding. Then Master Peter too said from within; Boy, fall not you to your flourishes, but doe as that Gentleman com∣mands you, which is the best course; sing you your playne-Song, and meddle not with the Treble, lest you cause the strings break. I will Master (said the Boy) and proceeded saying:

Hee that you see there (quoth hee) on Horsebacke, claddo in a Gascoyne Cloake, is Don Gayferos himselfe, to whom his Wife (now revenged on the Moore for his boldnesse) shews her selfe from the Battlements of the Castle, taking him to bee some Passenger, with whom shee passed all the Discourse mentioned in the Ro∣mant, that sayes:

Friend, if toward France you goe, Aske if Gayferos be there or no.

The rest I omit, for all prolixitie is irksome, 'tis sufficient that you see there how Don Gayferos discovers himselfe, and by Melisendraes jocund behaviour, wee may ima∣gine

shee knows him, and the rather because now wee see shee lets her self down from a bay-window to ride away behinde her good Spouse: but alas I unhappie creature, one of the skirts of her Kirtle hath caught upon one of the iron barrs of the window, and shee hovers in the aire without possibilitie of comming to the ground: but see how pittifull Heavens relieve her in her greatest necessitie; for Don Gayferos comes, and without any care of her rich Kirtle, layes hold of it, and forcibly brings her down with him, and at one hoist sets her astride upon his horses crupper, and commands her to sit fast, and clap her armes about him, that shee fall not; for Melisendra was not used to that kinde of riding, Look you how the Horse by his neighing shews that hee is proud with the burden of his valiant Master and fair Mistris: Look how they turn their backs to the Citie and merrily take their way toward Paris. Peace bee with you, O peerlesse couple of true Lovers; safely may you arrive at your de∣sired Country, without Fortunes hindring your prosperous voyage: may your Friends and Kindred see you enjoy the rest of your yeers (as many as Nestors) peaceably.

Here Master Peter cryed out aloud again, saying; Plainnesse, good Boy, doe not you soare so high, this affectation is scurvy. The Interpeter answered nothing, but went on, saying, There wanted not some idle spectators that pry into every thing, who saw the going down of Melisendra, and gave Marsilius notice of it, who straight command∣ed to sound an Alarm; and now behold how fast the Citie even sinks again with the noyse of Bels that sound in the high, Towres of the Mesquits: [Mesquitas, Moorish Churches.]

There you are out Boy (said Don-Quixote) and Master Peter is very improper in his Bells; for amongst Moores you have no Bells, but Kettle-drums, and a kinde of Shaulmes that bee like our Waits; so that your sounding of Bells in Sansuenna is a most idle fopperie. Stand not upon trifles Signior Don-Quixote (said Master Peter) and so strictly upon every thing, for we shall not know how to please you: Have you not a thousand Comedies ordinarily represented; as full of incongruities and absurdities, and yet they runne their Career happily, and are heard not only with applause, but great admiration also? On boy say on, & so I fill my purse, let there be as many impro∣prieties as moats in the Sunne. You are in the right (quoth Don-Quixote) and the Boy proceeded.

Look what a companie of gallant Knights goe out of the Citie in pursuit of the Cotholike Lovers, how many Trumpets sound, how many Shaulmes play, how many Drummes and Kettles make a noyse; I fear me they will over-take them, and bring them back both bound to the same Horses tayle; which would bee a horrible spectacle.

Don Quixote seeing and hearing such a deale of Moorisme and such a coyle, hee thought fit to succour those that fled: So standing up, with a loud voyce hee cryed out; I will never consent while I live, that in my presence such an outrage as this bee offered to so valiant, and to so amorous a bold Knight as Don Gayferos: Stay, you base Scoundrels, doe not yee follow or persecute him; if you doe, you must first wage warre with me: So doing and speaking, hee unsheathed his Sword, and at one frisk hee got to the Motion, and with an unseen and posting furie, hee began to rain strokes upon the Puppetish Moorisme, overthrowing some, and behading others, maiming this, and cutting in pieces that; and amongst many other blows, he fetched one so down right, that had not Master Peter tumbled and squatted down, hee had clipped his Mazard as easily as if it had been made of March-pane. Master Peter cryed out, say∣ing; Hold Signior Don Quixote, hold; and know that these you hurl down, destroy, and kill, are not reall Moors, but shapes made of Paste-board: Look you, look yee now (wretch that I am) hee spoyles all and undoes me. But for all this, Don-Quixote still multiplyed his flashes, doubling and redoubling his blows as thick as hops.

And in a word, in lesse then two Credo's, hee cast down the whole Motion (all the tackling first cut to fitters, and all the Puppets) King Marsilius was sore wounded, and

the Emperour Charlemaine his head and crown were parted in two places: The Senate and Auditors were all in a hurry; And the Ape gat up to the top of the house, and so out at the window: The Scholler was frighted: The Page clean dastarded: And even Sancho himself was in a terrible perplexity; for (as hee sware after the Storm was past) hee never saw his Master so outragious.

The generall ruine of the Motion thus performed, Don-Quixote began to be some∣what pacified, and said; Now would I have all those here at this instant before me, that beleeve not how profitable Knights Errant are to the world; and had not I been now present, what (I marvell) would have become of Signior Don Gayferos and the fair Melisendra? I warrant e're this, those Doggs would have overtaken and shewed them some foul play: when all is done, long live Knight Errantry above all things living in the world.

Long live it on Gods name (said Master Peter) again with a pittifull voyce; and may I die, since I live to bee so unhappie, as to say with King Don Roarigo. Yesterday I was Lord of all Spain, but to day have not a Battlement I can call mine: [Don Ro∣drigo was the last King of the Goths that raigned in Spain, conquered by the Moors:] 'Tis not yet half an houre, scarce half a minute, that I was Master of Kings and Em∣perours; had my Stables, Coffers, and Bags full of Horses and Treasure; but now I am desolate, dejected and poor: and to add more affliction, without my Ape, that before I can catch him again, I am like to sweat for it, and all through the unconside∣rate furies of this Sir Knight, who is said to protect the Fatherlesse, to rectifie Wrongs, and to doe other Charitable works; but to me only this his generous intention hath been defective, I thank God for it: In fine, it could bee none but The Knight of the sorrowfull Countenance that discountenanced mee and mine. Sancho grew compassi∣onate to hear Master Peters lamentation, and said; Weep not, nor grieve Master Peter, for thou breakest my heart; and let me tell thee, that my Master Don-Quixote is so scrupulous and Catholike a Christian, that if hee fall into the reekoning, that hee have done thee any wrong, hee knows how, and will satisfie it with much advantage. If (said Master Peter) Signior Don-Quixote would but pay me for some part of the Pieces that hee hath spoyled, I should be contented, and his Worship might not be troubled in con∣science; for he that keeps that that is another mans, against the Owners will, and re∣stores it not, can hardly bee saved.

That's true (quoth Don-Quixote:) But hitherto, Master Peter, I know not whe∣ther I have detained ought of yours. No? not, said Master Peter? why these poor relikes that lie upon the hard and barren earth, who scattered and annihilated them but the invincible force of that powerfull arme? And whose were those bodies, but mine? And with whom did I maintain my self, but with them? Well, I now (said Don-Quixote) verily beleeve what I have done often, that the Enchanters that perse∣cute me, doe nothing but put shapes really as they are before mine eyes, and by and by truck and change them at their pleasure. Verily my Masters, you that heare me, I tell you, all that here passed seemed to me to bee really so, and immediately that that Me∣lisendra was Melisendra; Don Gayf••ros, Don Gayferos, and Marsilius, Marsilius; and Charlemain, Charlemain: And this was it that stirred up my choller; and to ac∣complish my Profession of Knight Errant; my meaning was to succour those that fled: and to this good purpose I did all that you have seen; which if it fell out unluckily, 'twas no fault of mine, but of my wicked persecutors: yet for all this errour (though it pro∣ceeded from no malice of mine) I my self will condemne my self in the charge; let Master Peter see what hee will have for the spoyled Pieces, and I will pay it all in pre∣sent currant coyne of Castile.

Master Peter made him a low leg, saying; I could expect no lesse from the unheard of Christianity of the most valorous Don-Quixote de la Mancha, the true Succourer and Bulwark of all those that bee in need and necessitie, or wandring Vagamunds; and now let the Venter and the Grand Sancho bee Arbitrators, and Price-setters between your Worship and me, and let them say what every torne Piece was worth. The Venter and Sancho both agreed: And by and by Master Peter reached up Marsilius King of

Saragosa headlesse, and said; You see how impossible it is for this Prince to returne to his first being, and therefore, saving your better judgements, I think fit to have for him two shillings and three-pence.

On then, quoth Don-Quixote. Then for this (quoth Master Peter) that is parted from head to foote, taking the Emperour Charlemain up, I thinke two shillings seven∣pence half-penny is little enough, Not very little quoth Sancho. Nor much said the Venter; but moderate the bargaine, and let him have halfe a crowne. Let him have his full asking (said Don-Quixote) for, for such a mishap as this, wee'l nere stand upon three half-pence more or lesse, & make an end quickly Master Peter; for it is neer supper∣time, and I have certain suspicions that I shall eat. For this Puppet said M. Peter, with∣out a nose, and an eye wanting, of the fair Melisendra, I aske but in Justice fourteene pence half-penny.

Nay, the Devil's in it (sayd Don-Quixote) if Melisendra bee not now in France, or upon the borders, at least, with her Husband; for the horse they rode on, to my seeming, rather flew then ran; and therefore sell not mee a Cat for a Coney, presen∣ting mee here Melisendra nose lesse, when shee (if the time require it) is wantonly solacing with her Husband in France: God give each man his owne, Master Peter, let us have plaine dealing; and so proceed. Master Peter, that saw Don-Quixote in a wrong vaine, and that hee returned to his olde Theame thought yet hee should not escape him, and so replied; Indeede this should not bee Melisendra, now I think on't; but some one of the Damzels that served her, so that five pence for her will con∣tent mee.

Thus hee went on prizing of other torne Puppets, which the Arbitrating Judges moderated to the satisfaction of both parties, and the whole prices of all were, twen∣ty one shillings and eleven pence, which when Sancho had disbursed, Master Peter demanded over and above twelve-pence for his labour, to looke the Ape. Give it him Sancho (said Don-Quixote) not to catch his Ape, but a Monkey; [As w••s say, To catch a Fox;] and I would give five pound for a reward, to any body that would certainly tell mee, that the Lady Melisendra and Don Gayferos were safely arrived in France, amongst their owne people.

None can better tell then my Ape (said Master Peter) though the Devill himselfe will scarce catch him; yet I imagine, making much of him, and hunger, will force him to seeke mee to night, and by morning wee shall come together. Well, to con∣clude; the storme of the Motion passed, and all supped merrily, and like good fel∣lowes, at Don-Quixotes charge; who was liberall in extremity. Before day, the fel∣low with the Lances and Halberds was gone, and some-what after, the Scholler and the Page came to take leave of Don-Quixote, the one to returne homeward, and the other to prosecute his intended voyage, and for a releefe Don-Quixote gave him six shillings.

Master Peter would have no more to doe with him; for hee knew him too well. So hee got up before the Sunne, and gathering the relikes of the Motion together, and his Ape, hee betooke him to his Adventures. The Venter that knew not Don-Quixote, wondred as much at his liberality, as his madnesse. To conclude, Sancho payed him honestly, by his Masters order, and taking leave, about eight of the clocke they left the Vente, and went on their way, where wee must leave them; for so it is fit, that wee may come to other matters pertaining to the true declaration of this fa∣mous History.

CHAP. XXVII.

Who Master Peter and his Ape were, with the ill-successe that Don-Quixote had in the Adventure of the Braying, which ended not so well, as he would, or thought for.

CID Hamete, the Chronicler of this famous History, beginnes this Chapter with these words: I sweare like a Catholike Christian. To which the Translatour sayes, That Cid his swearing like a Ca∣tholike Christian hee being a Moore, as undoubtedly hee was, was no other wise to bee understood, then that as the Catholike Chri∣stian, when hee sweares, doth or ought to sweare truth, so did hee, as if hee had sworne like a Catholike Christian, in what hee meant to write of Don-Quixote, especially in recounting who Master Peter and the pro∣phesying Ape were; that made all the Countrey astonisht at his fore-telling things. Hee sayes then, that hee who hath read the former part of this History, will have well remembred that same Gines de Passamonte, whom Don-Quixote, amongst other Gal∣ly-slaves, freed in Sierra Morena, a benefit for which afterward hee had small thankes, and worse payment, from that wicked and ungratefull Rowr.

This Gines de Passamonte, whom Don-Quixote called Ginesillo de Parapilla, was hee that stole Sancho's Dapple; which, because neither the manner nor the time were put in the first part, made many attribute the fault of the Impression, to the Authours weakenesse of memory. But true it is, that Gines stole him, as Sancho slept upon his backe, using the same tricke and device of Brunelo's, when as Sacripante being upon the siege of Albraca, hee stole his horse from under his legs; and after Sancho reco∣vered him again, as was shewed.

This Gines, fearefull of being found by the Justices that sought after him, to punish him for his infinite villanies and faults, that were so many and so great, that himselfe made a great volume of them, determined to get him into the Kingdome of Aragon, and so covering his left eye, to apply himself to the office of a Puppet man; for this and juggling hee was excellent at. It fell out so, that hee bought his Ape of certain captive Christians that came out of Barbarie, whom he had instructed, that upon ma∣king a certain signe, he should leap upon his shoulder, and should mumble, or seeme to doe so, at least somthing in his eare.

This done, before he would enter into any town with his Motion or Ape, he infor∣med himself in the neerest town, or where he best could, what particulars had hapned in such a place, or to such Persons, and bearing all well in mind, the first thing he did, was to shew his Motion, which was sometimes of one story, otherwhiles of another; but all merry, delightfull and familiarly known.

The sight being finished, hee propounded the rarities of his Ape, telling the People that hee could declare unto them, all things past and present; but in things to come, hee had no skill: For an Answere to each Question hee demanded a shilling; but to some hee did it cheaper, according as hee perceived the Demanders in case to pay him; and sometimes hee came to such places as hee knew what had happened to the Inhabitants, who although they would demand nothing, because they would not pay him; yet hee would still make signes to the Ape, and tell them the Beast had told him this or that, which fell out just by what he had before heard, and with this he got an un∣speakable name, and all men slocked about him, and at other times (as he was very cun∣ning) he would reply so, that the answer fell out very fit to the questions: and since no body went about to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or to presse him, how his Ape did Prophesse, hee gulled every one and filled his Pouch.

As soone as ever hee came into the Vente, hee knew Don-Quixote and Sancho, and all that were there; but it had cost him deere, if Don-Quixote had let his hand fall somewhat lower, when he cut off King Marsilius his head, and destroyed all his Chi∣valry, as was related in the antecedent Chapter. And this is all that may be said of Mr. Peter and his Ape.

And returning to Don Quixote de la Manca, I say, that after he was gone out of the Vente, he determined first of all to see the bankes of the river Heber, and all round about, before he went to the City of Saragosa, since between that & the Justs there, he had time enough for all. Hereupon he went on his way, which he passed two dayes without light∣ing on any thing worth writing, till the third day, going up a ridg-way, he heard a sound of Drums, Trumpets and Guns; at first he thought some Regiment of Souldiers passed by that way: so, to see them, he spurred Rozinante, and got up the Ridg, and when he was at the top, he saw (as he guessed) at the foot of it, neer upon two hundred men, armed with different sorts of Arms, to wit, Speers, Cros-bows, Partizans, Halberds and Pikes, and some Guns, and many Targets. He came down from the high-ground, and drew neer to the Squadron, insomuch that he might distinctly perceive their Ban∣ners, judged of their colours, and noted their Impreses, and especially one, which was on a Standard or shred of white Satten, where was lively painted a little Asse, like one of your Sardinian Asses, his head lifted up, his mouth open, and his tongue out, in act and posture just as he were Braying, about him were these two verses written in faire Letters:

'Twas not for nought that day. The one and th'other Iudge did Bray.

By this device Don Quixote collected that those People belonged to the Braying Town, and so hee told Sancho, declaring likewise what was written in the Standard; hee told him also, that hee that told them the Story was in the wrong, to say they were two Aldermen that Brayed; for by the Verses of the Standard, they were two Judges. To which Sancho answered, Sir, that breakes no square; for it may very well be, that the Aldermen that then brayed, might come in time to bee Judges of the Town; so they may have been called by both Titles. Howsoever, 'tis not materiall to the truth of the Story, whether the Brayers were Aldermen or Judges, one for another, bee they who they would, and a Judge is even as likely to Bray as an Alder∣man.

To conclude, they perceived and knew that the Town that was mocked, went out to skirmish with another that had too much abused them, and more then was fitting for good neighbours. Don-Quixote went towards them, to Sancho's no small grief, who was no friend to those Enterprizes. Those of the Squadron hemmed him in, taking him to be some one of their side. Don Quixote lifting up his Visor, with a pleasant coun∣tenance and courage, came toward the Standard of the Asse, and there all the chiefest of the Army gathered about him to behold him, falling into the same admiration as all else did the first time they had seen him, Don-Quixote that saw them atten∣tively look on him, and no man offering to speake to him, or ask him ought, taking hold on their silence, and breaking his own, hee raised his voyce and said:

Honest friends, I desire you with all earnestnesse, that you interrupt not the discourse that I shall make to you, till you shall see that I either distaste or weary you; which if it bee so, at the least signe you shall make, I will seal up my looks and clap a gag on my tongue. All of them bade him speak what hee would; for they would heare him wil∣lingly.

Don-Quixote having this licence, went on, saying; I, my friends, am a Knight Er∣rant, whose Exercise is Armes, whose Profession to favour those that need favour, and to help the distressed. I have long known of your misfortune, and the cause that every while moves you to take Armes to bee revenged on your Enemies. And having

not once, but many times pondered your businesse in my understanding, I finde (ac∣cording to the Laws of Duell) that you are deceived to think your selves affronted; for no particular person can affront a whole Town, except it bee for defying them for Traitors in generall, because hee knows not who in particular committed the Treason, for which hee defied all the Town.

Wee have an example of this in Don Diego Ordonnez de Lara, who defied the whole Towne of Zamora, because hee was ignorant, that only Velido de Olfos committed the treason in killing his King; so hee defied them all, and the revenge and answer con∣cerned them all: though howsoever Don Diego was somewhat too hasty and too for∣ward; for it was needlesse for him to have defied the Dead, or the Waters, or the Corne, or the Children unborn, with many other trifles there mentioned: but let it goe, for when choller over-flows, the tongue hath neither Father, Governour, or Guide that may correct it. This being so then, that one particular person cannot affront a Kingdome, Province, Citie, Common-wealth, or Town only, it is manifest, that the revenge of defiance for such as affront is needlesse, since it is none; for it were a goodly matter sure that those of the Town of Reloxa should every foot go out to kill those that abuse them so: Or that your Cazoteros, Verengeneros, Vallenatos, Xanoneros [Severall nick∣names given to Towns in Spain, upon long tradition, and too tedious to bee put in a mar∣gent,] or others of these kindes of nick-names that are common in every Boyes mouth, and the ordinary sort of People: 'twere very good I say, that all these famous Towns should bee ashamed, and take revenge, and runne with their Swords continually drawn like Sack buts, for every slender Quarrell. No, no, God forbid: Men of wisedome and well governed Common-wealths ought to take Armes for four things, and so to endanger their Persons lives and estates: First, To defend the Catholike Faith: Se∣condly, Their Lives; which is according to Divine and Naturall Law: Thirdly, To defend their Honour, Family, aud Estates: Fourthly, To serve their Prince in a law∣full warre; And if wee will, we may add a fift (that may serve for a second) To de∣fend their Country. To these five capitall causes, may bee joyned many others, just and reasonable, that may oblige men to take Armes: But to take them for trifles, and things that are rather fit for laughter and pastime then for any affront, it seems that hee who takes them wants his judgement. Besides, to take an unjust revenge (indeed no∣thing can bee just by way of revenge) is directly against Gods Law which wee professe, in which wee are commanded to doe well to our enemies, and good to those that hate us; a Commandement that though it seem difficult to fulfill, yet it is not only to those that know lesse of God then the world, and more of the slesh then the Spirit; for Jesus Christ, true God and man, who never lyed, neither could, nor can, being our Law-giver, said, That his Yoak was sweet and his Burden light; so hee would com∣mand us nothing that should bee unpossible for us to fulfill: So that, my Masters, you are tyed both by Laws Divine and humane to bee pacified.

The Devill take me (thought Sancho to himself at this instant) if this Master of mine bee not a Divine; or if not not, as like one as one egge is to another.

Don-Quixote took breath a while, and seeing them still attentive, had proceeded in his discourse, but that Sancho's conceitednesse came betwixt him and home, who seeing his Master pause, took his turne, saying:

My Master Don-Quixote de la Mancha, sometimes called The Knight of the sor∣rowfull Countenance, and now The Knight of the Lyons, is a very judicious Gentleman, speaks Latin and his mother tongue as well as a Bachelour of Arts, and in all hee hand∣leth or adviseth, proceeds like a man of Armes, and hath all the Laws and Statutes of that you call Duell, ad unguem: therefore there is no more to bee done, but to go∣vern your selves according to his direction, and let me bear the blame if you doe amisse. Besides, as you are now told 'tis a folly to bee ashamed to heare one Bray; for I re∣member when I was a Boy, I could have brayed at any time I listed, without any bo∣dies hinderance, which I did so truely and cunningly, that when I Brayed, all the Asses in the Town would answer me; and for all this I was held to bee the sonne of honest Parents, and though for this rare qualitie I was envied by more then foure of the proud∣est

of my Parish, I cared not two straws; and that you may know I say true, doe but stay and hearken; for this Science is like swimming, once known never forgotten: so clapping his hand to his nose hee began to Bray so strongly that the Vallies neer-hand resounded again. But one of them that stood neerest him, thinking hee had flouted them, lifted up a good Bat he had in his hand, and gave him such a blow, that hee tumbled him to the ground.

Don-Quixote, that saw Sancho so evill intreated, set upon him that did it, with his Lance in his hand; but so many come betwixt, that it was not possible for him to bee re∣venged: rather seeing a cloud of stones comming towards himselfe, and that a thou∣sand bent Crosse-bowes beganne to threaten him, and no lesse quantitie of Gunnes; turning Rozinantes Reines, as fast as hee could gallop hee got from among them, re∣commending himselfe heartily to God, to free him from that danger, and fearing e∣very foote, lest some Bullet should enter him behinde, and come out at his breast: so hee still went fetching his breath, to see if it failed him. But they of the Squadron were satisfied when they saw him flie, and so shot not at him. Sancho they set up∣on his Asse (scarce yet come to himselfe) and let him goe after his Master, not that he could tell how to guide him; but Dapple followed Rozinantes steps, without whom he was no body.

Don-Quixote being now a pretty way off, looked backe, and saw that Sancho was comming, and marked that no body followed him. Those of the Squadron were there till darke night, and because their Enemies came not to Battell with them, they returned home to their Towne, full of myrth and jollitie: And if they had knowne the ancient custome of the Grecians, they would have raised a Trophie in that place.

CHAP. XXVIII.

Of things that Benengeli relates, which hee that reads shall know, if hee read them with attention.

WHen the Valiant man turns his back, the advantage over him is mani∣fest, and it is the part of wise men to reserve themselves to better oc∣casions: This truth was verified in Don-Quixote, who giving way to the furie of the people, and to the ill intentions of that angry Squadron, took his heels, and without remembring Sancho, or the danger he left him in, got himself so farr as he might seem to be safe. Sancho followed laid a-thwart upon his Asse, as hath been said: At last hee over-took him, being now come to himself; and comming neer, hee fell off his Dapple at Rozinantes feet, all sorrowfull bruised and beaten.. Don-Quixote alighted to search his wounds; but finding him whole from top to toe, very angrily hee said, You must Bray with a plague to you; and where have you found that 'tis good naming the halter in the hanged mans house? To your Bray musick what counterpoint could you expect but Bat-blows? And Sancho, you may give God thanks, that since they bles∣sed you with a cudgell, they had not made the per signum crucis on you with a Sce∣miter.

I know not what to answer (quoth Sancho) for me thinks I speak at my back; pray let's bee gone from hence, and I'le no more braying; yet I cannot but say, that your Knights Errant can flye and leave their faithfull Squires to be bruised like Privet by their enemies.

To retire is not to flye (said Don-Quixote) for know Sancho, that Valour that is not founded upon the Bassis of Wisdome, is stiled Temerity, and the rash mans actions

are rather attributed to good fortune then courage. So that I confesse I retired, but fled not, and in this have imitated many valiant men, that have reserved themselves for bet∣ter times; and Histories are full of these, which because now they would be tedious to me, and unprofitable to thee, I relate them not at present.

By this time Sancho, with Don-Quixotes helpe, got to horse, and Don-Quixote mounted Rozinante, and by little and little, they had gotten into a little Elme-grove, some quarter of a league off; now and then Sancho would fetch a most deep Heigh ho•• and dolorous sighes. And Don-Quixote demanding the reason of his pittifull com∣plaints, he said, that from the point of his back-bone, to the top of his crowne, he was so sore th•••• hee knew not what to doe. The cause of that paine undoubtedly (quoth Don-Quixote) is, that as the cudgell with which they banged thee was long and slen∣der, it lighted upon those parts of thy back all along that grieve thee; and if it had been thicker, it had grieved thee more. Truly (quoth Sancho) you have resolved mee of a great doubt, and in most delicate termes declared it to mee. Body of mee, was the cause of my griefe so concealed that you must needes tell mee that all of mee was sore where the cudgell lighted? If my ankles did paine mee, I warrant you would riddle the cause of it; but 'tis poore ridling to tell that my bruising grieves mee. Yfaith, yfaith, Master mine, other mens ills are sleightly regarded, and every day I discover Land, and see how little I can expect from your service; for if at this time you suffered mee to bee dry beaten, wee shall come a hundred and a hundred times to the Blanket-tossing you wot of, and other childish tricks, which if they now lighted on my shoulders, they will after come out at mine eyes. It were a great deale better for mee, but that I am a beast, and shall never doe ought well while I live. It were a great deale better (I say againe) for mee to get mee home to my Wife and Children, to maintaine and bring them up with that little God hath given mee, and not to follow you up and down these hy-waies, drinking ill, and eating worse. And for your Bed, good honest Squire, even count mee out seven foote of good earth; and if you will have any more, take as many more; for you may feede at pleasure, stretch your selfe at your case, I would the first that made stitch in Knight Errantry were burned, or beaten to powder, or at least hee that first would bee Squire to such fooles, as all your Knights-Errant in former times have been, of the present I say nothing; for your selfe being one, I re∣spect them, and because I know that you know an Ace more then the Devill in all you speak or think.

I durst venter a good wager with thee Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote,) that now thou talkest and no body controules thee, thou feelest no paine in all thy Body: Talke on, childe mine, all that is in thy minde, or comes to thy Mouth, for so thou beest not grieved, I will bee pleased with the distaste that thy impertinencies might give mee. And if you desire so much to bee at home with your Wife and Children, God forbid I should gain say it: you have money of mine, and see how long 'tis since our third sally from home, and how much is due to you for every Moneth, and pay your selfe.

When I served (quoth Sancho): Tome Carrasco, Father to the Bachelor Carrasco, whom you know well, I had two Ducats a moneth besides my victualls: of you I know not how much I shall have, though I am sure it is a greater toyle to bee a Squire to a Knight Errant, then to serve a rich Husbandman; for indeed, wee that serve Hus∣bandmen, though wee labour never so much in the day time, if the worst come to the worst, at night wee sup with the Pottage-pot, and lye in a bed, which I have not done ever since I served you, except it were that short time wee were at Don Diego de Miranda's house, and after when I had the cheere of the skimmings of Camacho's pots, and when I ate and drunke and slept at Basilius his house; all the rest hath been up∣on the cold ground, to the open ayre, and subject, as you would say, to the inclemen∣cies of the Heavens, onely living upon bits of cheese, and scraps of bread, and drink∣ing water, sometimes of brookes, sometimes of Springs, which wee met withall by the waies wee went.

I confesse, Sancho, (quoth Don-Quixote) that all thou sayest may bee true;

how much more thinkest thou should I give thee then Tomè Carrasco?

You shall please me (quoth Sancho) with twelve pence more a moneth, and that concerning my wages for my service: but touching your word and promise you gave me, That I should have the Government of an Island, it were fit you added the t'other three shillings, which in all make up fifteen.

It is very well (said Don Quixote) and according to the wages that you have allotted unto your self, it is now twenty five dayes since our last sallie; reckon Sancho, so much for so much, and see how much is due to you, and pay your self, as I have bidden you.

Body of mee (said Sancho) you are clean out of the reckoning; for to••••hing the promise of governing the Island, you must reckon from the time you promised, till this present. Why, how long is it (quoth hee) since I promised it? If I bee not forgetfull (said Sancho) it is now some twenty yeers wanting two or three dayes. Don-Quixote gave himself a good clap on the fore-head, and began to laugh heartily, saying; Why, my being about Sierra Morena, and our whole travells were in lesse then two moneths, and doest thou say it was twenty yeers since I promised thee the Island? I am now of opinion, that thou wouldest have all the money thou hast of mine consumed in paying thee wages: which if it bee so, and that thou art so minded, from hence forward take it, much good may it doe thee; for so I may not bee troubled with such a Squire, I shall bee glad to bee poor, and without a farthing. But tell me thou Prevaricator of the Squirely Laws of Knight Errantry; where hast thou ever seen or read of any Squire belonging to Knight Errant, that hath capitulated with his Master to give him thus much or so much: Lanch, lanch, thou base lewd fellow, thou Hobgoblin; Lanch, I say, into the Mare magnum of their Histories; and if thou finde that any Squire have said, or so much as imagined what thou hast said, I will give thee leave to brand my fore∣head; and to boot, to seal me with four tucks in the mouth: [A trick to give a tuck with the thumbe upon ones lips, as fresh men are used in a Vniversitie:] Turne thy reins or thine Asses halter, and get thee to thine house; for thou shalt not goe a step fur∣ther with me. Oh ill given bread, and ill placed promises! Oh man, more beast then man! now when I thought to have put thee into a fortune, and such a one, that, in spight of thy wife, thou shouldest have been stiled My Lord: Thou leavest me: now doest thou goe, when I had a purpose to have made thee Lord of the best Island in the world. Well, well, as thou thy self hast said many times, The hony is not for the Asses mouth; An Asse thou art, an Asse thou wilt bee, and an Asse thou shalt die, and till then wilt thou remain so, before thou fallest into the reckoning that thou art a Beast.

Sancho beheld Don Quixote earnestly all the while hee thus rated him, and was so moved that the teares stood in his eyes, and with a dolorous low voyce hee said; Ma∣ster mine, I confesse, that to be altogether an Asse, I want nothing but a taile; if you will put one on me, I will bee contented, and will serve you like an Asse all dayes of my life. Pardon me Sir, and pittie my youth, and consider my folly; for if I speak much, it proceeds rather out of simplicity then knavery: Who erres and mends, to God himself commends.

I would bee sorry, little Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) but that thou shouldest min∣gle some by-pretty Proverb in thy Dialogue. Well, I'le pardon thee for this once, upon condition hereafter thou mend; and shew not thy self so covetous, but that thou rouze up thy Spirits, and encourage thy self with hope of the accomplishment of my promise; for better late then not at all. Sancho answered him, hee would, though it were to make a virtue of necessity.

Hereupon they put into the Elme-Grove, and Don-Quixote got to the foot of an Elme, and Sancho to the foot of a Beech; for these kinde of Trees and such like have alwaies feet, but no hands. Sancho had an ill night on it; for his Bat blow made him more sensible in the cold. Don-Quixote fell into his usuall imaginations; yet they both slept, and by day-peep they were on their way, searching after the famous banks of Heber, where they hapned upon what shall bee told in the ensuing Chapter.

CHAP. XXIX.

Of the famous Adventure of the Enchanted Bark.

DON Quixote and Sancho, by their computation, two dayes after they were out of the Elme Grove, came to the River Heber, whose sight was very delightsome to Don-Quixote; for first hee contemplated on the amenitie of those banks, the cleernesse of the water, the gen∣tle current and the abundancy of the liquid Cristall, whose pleasing sight brought a thousand amorous thoughts into his head, especially hee fell to think what hee had seen in Montesinos's Cave: for though Master Peters Ape had told him, that part of it was true, and part false, hee leaned more to the truth then to the other; contrarie to Sancho, who held all as false as Falshood it self.

As they were thus going on, Don-Quixote might see a little Boat without Oares or any other kinde of Tackling, which was tyed by the brink of the River to a Trees stump on the bank. Don-Quixote looked round about him, but could see no bodie; so with∣out more adoe, hee alighted from Rozinante, and commanded Sancho to doe the like from Dapple, and that hee should tye both the Beast very well to the root of an Elme or Willow there. Sancho demanded of him the cause of that suddain lighting, and of that tying. Don-Quixote made answer; Know Sancho, that this Boat thou seest di∣rectly (for it can bee nothing else) calls and invites me to goe and enter into it, to give ayde to some Knight, or other personage of rank and note that is in distresse: for this is the stile of Books of Knighthood, and of Enchanters that are there intermingled, that when any Knight is in some danger, that hee cannot bee freed from it, but by the hand of some other Knight, although the one bee distant from the other two or three thousand leagues or more, they either snatch him into a cloud, or provide him a Boat to enter in, and in the twinkling of an eye, either carry him thorow the aire, or thorow the Sea, as they list, and where his assistance is needfull: So that Sancho, this Boat is put here to the same effect; and this is as cleer as day, and before wee goe, tye Dapple and Rozinante together, and let's on in Gods name; for I will not fail to imbarque my self though bare-foot Friers should intreat me.

Well, seeing 'tis so (said Sancho) and that you will every foot run into these (I know not what I shall call them) fopperies, there's no way but to obey and lay down the neck; according to the Proverb, Doe as thy Master commands thee, and sit down at Table with him: But for all that, for discharge of my conscience, let me tell you, that (me thinks) that is no Enchanted Boat, but one that belongs to some Fisher-men of the River; for here the best Saboga's in the world are taken.

This hee spoke whilest hee was tying his Beasts, leaving them to the protection and defence of Enchanters, which grived him to the soul. Don-Quixote bade him hee should not bee troubled for the leaving those Beasts; for hee that should carry them thorow such longinque wayes and regions, would also look to the other. I understand not your Lognick (quoth Sancho) neither have I heard such a word in all the dayes of my life. Longinque (said Don-Quixote) that is, farre, remote: and no marvell thou un∣derstandest not that word; for thou art nor bound to the understanding of Latin, though yee have some that presume to know when they are ignorant. Now they are bound (said Sancho) what shall wee doe next?

What? (said Don-Quixote:) blesse our selves and weight anchor, I mean, let us imbarque our selves, and cut the rope by which this Boat is tyed: So leaping into it, and Sancho following him, hee cut the cord, and the Boat fair and softly fell off from the Bank; and when Sancho saw himself about a two rods length within the River, hee began to tremble, fearing his perdition: but nothing so much troubled him as to hear

Dapple-bray, and to see that Rozinante strugled to unloose himselfe; and hee told his Master; Dapple brayes and condoles for our absence, Rozinante strives to bee at Libertie to throwe himselfe after us. Oh most deere friends, remayne you there in safetie, and may the madnesse that severs us from you, converted into Repentance, bring us back to your Presence: And with that hee beganne to weepe so bitterly, that Don-Quixote, all moody and cholerick, beganne to cry out; What makes thee feare, thou cowardly Impe? What cryest thou for, thou heart of Curds? Who persecutes thee? Who baites thee thou soule of a Milk-sop? Or what wantest thou in the midst of all abundance? Art thou happily to goe bare-foot over the Riphaean Mountaines? Rather upon a seat like an Arch-Duke, through the calme current of this delightfull River; from whence wee shall very quickly passe into the maine Sea: But hitherto wee have gone and sayled some seven or eight hundred Leagues, and if I had an Astro∣l••be here, to take the height of the Pole, I could tell thee how farre wee have gone, though, either my knowledge is small, or wee have now, or shall quickly passe the Aequinoctiall-Line, which divides and cuts the two contraposed Poles in equall distance.

And when you come to this Line you speake of, how farre shall wee have gone? A great way (answered Don-Quixote;) For of three hundred and sixtie Degrees, which the whole Globe containeth of Land and Water, according to Ptolomies computation, who was the greatest Cosmographer knowne, wee shall have gone the halfe, when wee come to the Line I have told you of. Verily (quoth Sancho) you have brought mee a pretty witnesse to confirm your saying, To. ly-my and Comtation [Mistakes of the words, Ptolomeo and Computo, for so it is in the Spanish] and I know not what. Don-Quixote laught at Sanchoes interpretation he had given to the name, and so the Computation and account of the Cosmographer Ptolo••eus, and said to him; You shall understand Sancho, that when the Spanyards, and those that imbarque themselves at Ca∣diz, to goe to the East Indies, one of the greatest signes they have, to know whether they have passed the aequinoctial, is, that all men that are in the Ship, their Lice die upon them, and not one remaines with them, not in the Vessel, though they would give their weight in gold for him: so that Sancho, thou maist put thy hand to thy thigh, and if thou meet with any live thing, we shall be out of doubt; if thou findest nothing, then wee have passed the Line.

I cannot beleeve any of this quoth Sancho, but yet I will doe what you will have mee, though I know no necessity for these trials, since I see with these eyes that we have not gone five rods lengths from the Banke, for there Rozinante and Dapple are, in the same places where we left them, and looking well upon the matter, as I now doe, I swear by Me, that we neither move nor goe faster then an Ant.

Make the triall that I bad you, and care for no other; for thou knowest not, what Columnes are, what Lines, Paralels, Zodiacks, Clyptilks, Poles, Solstices, Aequinoctials, Planets, Signes, Poynts and Measures, of which the Caelestiall and Terrestriall Spheres are composed: For if thou knewest all these, or any part of them, thou mightst plainly see what Paralels we have cut, what Signes we have seene, and what Images we have left behind, and are leaving now. And let me wish thee again that thou search and feel thy self: for I doe not think but that thou art as cleane as a sheet of white smooth Paper.

Sancho beganne to feele, and comming softly and warily with his hand to the left side of his neck, hee lifted up his Head, and said to his Master; Eyther your experi∣ence is false, or else wee are not come neere the place you speake of, by many Leagues. Why (quoth Don-Quixote) hast thou met with something? I with some things (said hee) and shaking his fingers, hee washed his whole hand in the River; by which, and in the Current, the boat softly slid along, without being moved by any secret in∣fluence, or hidden Enchantment, but the very course it selfe of the water, as yet soft and easie.

By this they discovered two great Water-Milles in the middest of the River: And Don-Quixote, as soone as hee saw them, cried aloud to Sancho; seest thou Friend,

that Citie, Castle or Fortresse, that shewes it selfe, where some Knight is sure op∣pressed, or some Queene or Princesse in ill plight, for whose succour I am brought hither?

What the Devill of City, Castle or Fortresse, Sir, doe you talke of (quoth Sancho) doe you not see that those are Water-Mills, in the River to grinde Corne? Peace San∣cho (said hee) for though they looke like Water-Milles, yet they are not, and I have told thee already, that these Enchantments chop and change things out of their na∣turall being; I say not that they change them out of one being into another really, but in appearance, as was seene by experience in the transformation of Dulcinea, the only refuge of my hopes.

Now the Boat being gotten into the middest of the Current, began to moove somewhat faster then before. They of the Mills, that saw the Boat come downe the River, and that it was now even gotten into the swift streame of the wheeles, many of them came running out with long poles to stay it: and as their faces and clothes were all covered with meale-dust, they made a strange shew, and cryed out, saying; Di∣vills of men, whither goe you? Are you mad to drowne your selves, or bee beaten to pieces against these wheeles?

Did not I tell thee Sancho (said Don-Quixote) then, that wee should come where I should shew the force of mine Arme? look what wicked uncouth fellowes come to encounter mee; look what a troope of Hobgoblins oppose themselves against mee; looke what ugly visages play the Bull-beggers with us: Now you shall see, you Ras∣cals; and standing up in the Boat, hee began aloud to threaten the Millers, saying; You base Scumme and ill-advised, free and deliver that person, which is in your For∣tresse or Prison opprest, bee hee high or low, or of what sort or quality soever; for I am Don-Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called The Knight of the Lyons, for whom the happy ending of this Adventure is reserved by order of the high Heavens: and this sayd, hee layd hand to his sword, and beganne to fence in the aire against the Millers, who hearing, but not understanding those madnesses, stood with their poles to stay the Boat, which was now entring the source and channell of the wheeles. Sancho kneeled devoutly upon his knees, praying Heaven to free him from so manifest a danger, which succeeded happily, by the quicknesse and skill of the Millers, who opposing their staves to the Boat, stayd it: but so, that they overturned it, and Don-Quixote and Sancho topled into the River: but it was well for Don-Quixote, who could swimme like a Goose, though the weight of his Armes carried him twice to the bottome, and had it not beene for the Millers, who leaped into the water, and pul∣led them out both, as if they had waighed them up, there they had both perished.

When they were both on land, more wet then thirsty, Sancho, upon his knees, with joyned hands, and his eyes nailed to Heaven, prayed to God with a large and devout prayer, to free him from thence-forward, from the rash desires and enterprizes of his Master. And now the Fisher-men came, the Owners of the Boat, which was broken to pieces by the wheeles, who seeing it spoyled, began to dis-robe Sancho, and to demand payment of Don-Quixote, who very patiently, as if hee had done no∣thing, sayd to the Millers and Fisher-men, that hee would very willingly pay for the Boat, upon condition they should freely deliver him, without fraud or guile, the per∣son or persons that were oppressed in their Castle.

What person, or what Castle mad-man? (sayd one of the Millers) will you, trow, carry away those that came hither to grinde their corne? Enough, thought Don-Quixote to himselfe, here a man may preach in a wildernesse, to reduce a base people to a good worke. In this Adventure two deep Enchanters have met. And the one disturbes the other: the one provided mee the Barke, and the other overthrew mee out of it, God help us, all this world is tricks and devices, one contrary to the other; I can doe no more: and raising his voyce, hee went on, saying; Friends, whosoever you are, locked up in this prison, pardon mee; for, by my ill fortune and yours, I cannot deliver you from your pain: this Adventure is kept and reserved for some other Knight. When hee had said this, hee agreed with the fishers, and paid 25. shillings for the boat,

which Sancho gave with a very good will, saying, With two of these boat-trickes wee shall sinke our whole stocke.

The Fishermen and the Millers were in a great admiration, to see two such strange shapes, quite from the ordinary fashion of other men, and never understood to what purpose Don-Quixote used all those discourses to them; so holding them for mad∣men, they left them, and got to their Milles, and the Fishers to their quarters. Don-Quixote and Sancho like beasts turne to their beasts: and this end had the Adventure of the Enchanted Barke.

CHAP. XXX.

What happened to Don-Quixote with the faire Huntresse.

VEry melancholy and ill at ease went the Knight and Squire to horse∣backe, especially Sancho, for it grieved him at the soule to meddle with the stocke of their money; for it seemed to him, that to part with any thing from thence, was to part with his eye-balls. To be briefe, without speaking a word, to horse they went, and left the famous river. Don-Quixote, buried in his amorous cogitations, and Sancho in those of his preferment; for as yet hee thought hee was farre enough off from obtaining it: for although hee were a foole, yet hee well perceived, that all his Masters actions, or the greatest part of them were idle: so hee sought after some occasion, that without entring into farther reckonings, or leave∣taking with his Master, hee might one day get out of his clutches, and goe home, but fortune ordered matters contrary to his feare. It fell out then, that the next day about Sun-setting, and as they were going out of a wood, Don-Quixote spreads his eyes about a green meadow, and at one end of it saw company, and comming neer, hee saw they were Falconers; hee came neerer, and amongst them beheld a gallant Lady upon her Palfrey, or milke-white Nagge, with green furniture, and her Saddle∣pummell of silver. The Lady her selfe was all clad in greene, so brave and rich, that bra∣very it selfe was transformed into her. On her left hand shee carried a Soare-Fal∣con, a signe that made Don-Quixote think shee was some great Lady, and Mistresse to all the rest, as true it was: so hee cried out to Sancho; Runne, sonne Sancho, and tell that Lady on the Palfrey with the Soare-hawke, that I, The Knight of the Lyons, doe kisse her most beautifull hands; and if her magnificence give me leave. I will receive her commands, and bee her servant to the uttermost of my power, that her highnesse may please to command mee in; and take heede, Sancho, how thou speakest, and have a care thou mixe not thy Ambassage with some of those Proverbs of thine. Tell mee of that? as if it were now the first time that I have carried Embassies to high and mighty Ladies in my life? Except it were that thou carriedst to Dulcinea (quoth Don-Quixote) I know not of any other thou hast carried, at least whilest thou wert with mee. That's true, said Sancho; but a good pay-master needs no surety: and where there is plenty, the ghests are not empty, I meane, there is no telling nor advising mee ought; for of all things I know a little. I beleeve it (said Don-Quixote) get thee gone in good time, and God speed thee.

Sancho went on, putting Dapple out of his pace with a Careere, and comming where the faire Huntresse was, alighting, hee kneeled downe, and said; Faire Lady, that Knight you see there, called The Knight of the Lyons, is my Master, and I am a Squire of his, whome at his house they call Sancho Panca; this said Knight of the Lyons, who not long since was called, The Knight of the sorrowfull Countenance, sends me to tell

your Greatnesse, That you bee pleased to give him leave, that with your liking, good will, and consent, hee put in practice his desire, which is no other (as hee sayes, and I beleeve) then to serve your lofty high-flying beauty: [For so it is in the Spanish to make the simple Squire speake absurdly enough, for in stead of Alteca, the Author makes him say Altaneria:] and if your Ladyship give him leave, you shall doe a thing that may redound to your good, and hee shall receive a most remarkeable favour and con∣tent.

Truely honest Squire, said the Ladie, thou hast delivered thy Ambassage with all the circumstances that such an Ambassage requires: Rise, rise, for the Squire of so renown∣ed a Knight as hee of The sorrowfull Countenance (of whom wee have here speciall no∣tice) 'tis not fit should kneel: Rise up friend, and tell your Master that hee come neer on Gods name, that the Duke my Husband and I may doe him service at a house of pleasure wee have here.

Sancho rose up astonish't, as well at the good Ladies beauty as her courtship and courtesie, especially for that shee told him shee had notice of his Master, The Knight of the sorrowfull Countenance; for in that shee called him not Knight of the Lyons, it was because it was so lately put upon him. The Duchesse asked him (for as yet wee know not of what place shee was Duchesse) tell me, Sir Squire, is not this your Master one of whom there is a History printed, and goes by the name of, The ingenious Gentleman, Don-Quixote de la Mancha, the Lady of whose life is likewise one Dulcinea del To∣boso? The very self-same (said Sancho) and that Squire of his that is or should bee in the Historie, called Sancho Panca am I, except I were changed in my cradle, I mean that I were changed in the Presse. I am glad of all this (quoth the Duchesse:) goe, brother Panca, and tell your Master that hee is welcome to our Dukedome, and that no news could have given mee greater content. Sancho, with this so acceptable an answer, with great pleasure returned to his Master, to whom hee recounted all that the great Ladie had said to him, extolling to the Heavens her singular beauty, with his rusticall tearms, her affablenesse and courtesie. Don-Quixote pranked it in his saddle, sate stiff in his stirrops, fitted his Visor, rowsed up Rozinante, and with a comely boldnesse went to kisse the Duchesses hands, who causing the Duke her Husband to bee called, told him, whilest Don-Quixote was comming, his whole Embassie: So both of them ha∣ving read his first part, and understood by it his besotted humour, attended him with much pleasure and desire to know him, with a purpose to follow his humour, and to give way to all hee should say, and to treat with him as a Knight Errant, as hee should bee with them, with all the accustomed ceremonies in Books of Knight Errantry, which they had read, and were much affected with.

By this Don-Quixote came with his Visor pulled up, and making shew to alight, Sancho came to have held his stirrop: but hee was so unluckie, that as hee was light∣ing from Dapple, one of his feet caught upon a halter of the pack-saddle, so that it was not possible for him to disintangle himselfe, but hung by it with his mouth and his brest to the ground-ward. Don-Quixote who used not to alight without his stirrops being held, thinking Sancho was already come to hold it, lighted sodainly down, but brought saddle and all to ground (belike being ill gyrt) to his much shame, and curses inwardly laid upon the unhappie Sancho, that had still his legg in the stocks. The Duke com∣manded some of his Falconers to help the Knight and Squire, who raised Don-Quixote in ill plight with his fall, and limping as well as he could, hee went to kneel before the two Lordings: but the Duke would not by any means consent, rather alighting from his horse hee embraced Don-Quixote, saying:

I am very sorrie Sir Knight of the sorrowfull Countenance, that your first fortune hath been so ill in my ground; but the carelesnesse of Squires is oft the cause of worse suc∣cesses. It is impossible, volorous Prince, that any should bee bad, since I have seen you, although my fall had cast me to the profound Abisme, since the glory of seeing you would have drawn me out and raised me up. My Squire (a curse light on him) unties his tongue better to speak maliciously, then hee gyrts his horses saddle to sit firmly: but howsoever I am down or up, on foot or on horse-back, I will alwaies bee at yours and

my Ladie the Duchesses service, your worthy Consort, the worthy Lady of beautie, and Princesse of universall courtesie. Softly, my Signior (Don-Quixote de la Mancha) qd. the Duke, for where my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso is present, there is no reason other beauties should be praised.

Now Sancho Panca was free from the noose, and being at hand, before his Master could answere a word, hee said, it cannot be denied but affirmed, that my Lady Dul∣cinea del Toboso is very faire; but where wee least thinke there goes the Hare away; for I have heard say, that shee you call Nature, is like a Potter that makes Vessells of Clay, and he that makes a handsome Vessell, may make two or three, or an hundred; this I say, that you may know my Lady the Duchesse comes not a whit behinde my Mi∣stresse the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. Don-Quixote turned to the Duchesse, and said; Your Greatnesse may suppose that never any Knight in the world had ever such a prater to his Squire, nor a more conceited then mine, and hee will make good what I say, if your Highnesse shall at any time bee pleased to make Triall. To which quoth the Dutchesse, that honest Sancho may be conceited, I am very glad, a signe he is wise; for your plea∣sant conceits, Signior, as you very well know, rest not in dull braines, and since Sancho is wittd and conceited, from hence forward I confirm him to bee discreet: And a Prater added Don-Quixote. So much the better (said the Duke) for many conceits cannot be expressed in few words, and that we may not spend the time in many, come, Sir Knight of the sorrowfull Countenance. Of the Lyons, your Highnesse must say quoth Sancho, for now we have no more sorrowfull Countenance. And now let the Lyons beare countenance. The Duke proceeded, I say let the Knight of the Lyons come to my Castle, which is neere here, where he shall have the entertainment that is justly due to so high a Personage, and that that the Duchesse and I are wont to give to Knights Errant that come to us.

By this time Sancho had made ready and gyrded Rozinantes saddle well; and Don-Quixote mounting him, and the Duke upon a goodly Horse, set the Duchesse in the middle, and they went toward the Castle. The Duchesse commanded that Sancho should ride by her, for she was infinitely delighted to heare his discretions. Sancho was easily intreated, and weaved himselfe betweene the three, and made a fourth in their conversation. The Duke and Duchesse were much pleased, who held it for a great good fortune, to have lodged in their Castle such a Knight Errant, and such a Squire Erred,

CHAP. XXXI.

That treats of many and great Affaires.

GREAT was the joy that Sancho conceived to see himselfe a favo∣rite to the Duchesse, as he thought; for it shaped out unto him, that he should finde in her Castle, as much as in Don Diegoes, or that of Basilius; for hee was alwaies affected with a plentifull life, and so lay'd hold upon Occasions lock, ever when it was pre∣sented. The History then tells us, that before they came to the house of Pleasure or Castle; the Duke went before, and gave or∣der to all his followers how they should behave themselves to∣wards Don-Quixote, who as hee came on with the Duchesse to the Castle gates, there came out two Lackyes, or Palfrey-boyes, cloathed down to the feete in coates like night-gownes, of fine Crimson Satten, and taking Don-Quixote in their armes, with∣out hearing or looking on him they said; Goe, and let your greatnesse help my Lady to alight. Don-Quixote did so, and there was great complementing betwixt both about it;

but in the end the, Duchesses earnestnesse prevailed, and shee would not descend or alight from her Palfrey, but in the Dukes armes, saying, That shee was too unworthy to bee so unprofitable a burden to so high a Knight. At length the Duke helped her: and as they entred a great Base Court, there came two beautifull Damzells, and cast upon Don-Quixotes shoulders a fair mantle of finest Scarlet; and in an instant all the Leads of the Courts and Entries were thronged with men and maid-servants of the Dukes, who cryed aloud; Welcome, oh Flower and Cream of Knights Errant, and all or most of them sprinkled pots of sweet water upon Don-Quixote, and upon the Duke, all which made Don-Quixote admire; and never till then did hee truely beleeve that he was a Knight Errant really and not fantastically, seeing hee was used just as hee had read Knights Errant were in former times.

Sancho, forsaking Dapple, shewed himself to the Duchesse, and entered into the Castle; but his conscience pricking him, that hee had left his Asse alone, hee came to a reverend old waiting woman that came out amongst others to wait upon the Duchesse and very softly spoke to her, Mistris Gonsalez, or what is your name forsooth? Donna Rodriguez de Grishalua, said the waiting woman; what would you have brother with me? To which (quoth•• Sancho) I pray will you doe me the favour as to goe out at the Castle gate, where you shall finde a Dapple Asse of mine, I pray will you see him put, or put him your self in the Stable; for the poor wretch is fearfull, and cannot by any means indure to bee alone. If the Master (quoth shee) bee as wise as the man, wee shall have a hot bargain on it: get you gone with a Murrin to you, and him that brought you hither, and look to your Asse your self; for the waiting women in this house are not used to such drudgeries. Why truly (quoth Sancho) I have heard my Master say, who is the very Wizard of Histories, telling that storie of Lanzarote, when hee came from Britaine, that Ladies Looked to him and waiting women to his Courser; and touching my Asse in particular, I would not change him for Lanzarotes horse. Brother (quoth shee) if you bee a Jester, keep your wit till you have use of it, for those that will pay you, for I have nothing but this* figg to give you: [*La higa: a word of disgrace.] Well yet (said Sancho) the figg is like to bee ripe, for you will not lose the Prima vista of your yeers by a peep lesse. Sonne of a Whore (said the waiting woman all in••ensed with choller) whether I am old or no, God knows, I shall give him account, and not to thee, thou Rascall, that stinkest of Garlike. All this shee spoke so loud that the Duchesse heard her, who turning and seeing the woman so altered, and her eyes so bloody red, shee asked her with whom shee was angry?

Here (said shee) with this Ideot, that hath earnestly intreated mee to put up his Asse in the Stable that is at the Castle gate, giving me for an instance that they have done so I know not where, that certain Ladies looked to one Lanzarote, and waiting women to his Horse, and to mend the matter, in mannerly tearms calls me old one: [Vicia: a name that a woman in Spain cannot indure to heare, though shee were as old as Methu∣salem.] That would more disgrace mee (quoth the Duchesse) then all hee should say; and speaking to Sancho, shee said, Look you friend Sancho, Donna Rodriguez is very young, and that Stole shee wears is more for authority and for the fashion, then for her yeers. A pox on the rest of my yeers I have to live (quoth Sancho) if I meant her any ill; I only desired the kindenesse for the love I bear to mine Asse, and because I thought I could not recommend him to a more charitable person then Mistris Rodriguez Don-Quixote, that heard all, said; Are these discourses, Sancho, fit for this place? Sir (said Sancho) let every man expresse his wants wheresoe're he be: Here I remembred my Dap∣ple, and here I spoke of him; and if I had remembred him in the Stable, there I would have spoken.

To this (quoth the Duke) Sancho is in the right, and there is no reason to blame him: Dapple shall have Provander, as much as hee will; and let Sancho take no care, hee shall bee used as well as his own person. With these discourses, pleasing unto all but Don-Quixote, they went up stairs, and brought Don-Quixote into a goodly Hall, hung with rich cloth of Gold and Tissue; six Damzels unarm'd him, and served for Pages, all of them taught and instructed by the Duke and Duchesse what they should doe, and

how they should behave themselves towards Don Quixote, that he might imagine and see they used him like a Knight Errant.

Don-Quixote once un-armed, was in his straight Trouses and Doublet of Chamois, dry, high and lanke, with his Jawes, that within and without bussed one another; a picture, that if the Damzels that served him, had not had a care to hold in their laugh∣ter (which was one of the precise orders their Lords had given them) had burst with laughing. They desired him to uncloathe himselfe to shift a shirt; but hee would by no meanes consent saying; that honestie was as proper to a Knight Errant, as valour. Not∣withstanding, he bad them give a shirt to Sancho, and locking himself up with him in a chamber, where was a rich bed, he plucked off his clothes, and put on the shirt, and as Sancho and he were alone, he thus spoke to him.

Tell mee (moderne Jester and old Jolt-head) is it a fit thing, to dishonour and af∣front so venerable an old waiting-woman, and so worthy to be respected as shee? Was that a fit time to remember your Dapple? Or thinke you, that these were Lords to let Beasts fare ill, that so neatly use their Masters? For Gods love Sancho, looke to thy self, and discover not thy course thred, that they may see thou art not woven out of a base web. Know sinner as thou art, that the Master is so much the more esteemed, by how much his servants are honest and mannerly; and one of the greatest advantages that great men have over inferiours is, that they keepe servants as good as themselves. Know'st thou not poor fellow, as thou art, and unhappy that I am, that if they see thee to be a grosse Pesant, they will thinke that I am some Mountebank or shifting Squire? No, no, friend Sancho; shunne, shunne these inconveniencies, for hee that stumbles too much upon the Prater and Wit-monger, at the first toe-knock falls, and becomes a scornfull Jester: Bridle thy tongue, consider and ruminate upon thy words, before they passe, and observe wee are now come to a place, from whence, with Gods help and mine arms valour, we shall goe bettered three fold, nay five-fold in fame and wealth.

Sancho promised him very truly, to sowe up his Mouth, or to bite his Tongue, be∣fore hee would speake a word that should not bee well considered, and to purpose, as hee had commanded; and that he should not feare, that by him they should ever bee discovered. Don-Quixote dressed himselfe, buckled his sword to his Belt, and claped his skarlet mantle upon him, puting on a Hunters cap of greene satten, which the Da∣mozels had given him; and thus adorned to the great chamber hee went, where hee found the Damozells all in a rowe, sixe on one side, and sixe on the other, and all with provision for him to wash, which they ministred with many courtesies and ceremonies.

Betwixt them streight they got him full of Pompe and Majesty, and carried him to a∣nother Roome, where was a rich Table, with service for foure Persons. The Duke and Duchesse came to the doore to receive him, and with them a grave Clergy-man, one of them that govern greet mens Houses; [A good Character of a poore Pedant,] one of those, that as they are not borne nobly, so they know not how to instruct those that are; one of those that would have great mens liberalityes, measured by the straight∣nesse of their mindes; of those that teaching those they governe to bee frugall, would make them miserable; such a one I say, this grave Clergy-man was, that came with the Duke to receive Don-Quixote; there passed a thousand loving complements, and at last, taking Don-Quixote between them, they sate down to dinner.

The Duke invited Don-Quixote to the upper end of the Table, which, though he re∣fused; yet the Duke so importuned him, that hee was forced to take it. The Clergy∣man sate over against him, and the Duke and Duchesse on each side. Sancho was by at all, gaping in admiration, to see the honour those Princes did to his Master, and see∣ing the many Ceremonies and intreaties that passed betwixt the Duke and him, to make him sit downe at the Tables end, hee said; If your worships will give mee leave, Ile tell you a tale that hapned in our town, concerning places. Scarce had Sancho said this, when Don-Quixote began to shake, beleeving certainly he would speak some idle speech. Sancho beholding, understood him and said; Fear not Sir, that I shall be unmannerly, or that I shall say any thing that may not be to the purpose; for I have not forgotten your Counsell, touching speaking much or little, well or ill.

I remember nothing Sancho (quoth Don Quixote) speak what thou wilt so thou speak quickly. Well, what I shall speak (quoth Sancho) is as true, as my Master Don-Quixote will not let me lie, who is here present. For me (replyed Don-Quixote) lie as much as thou wilt, for I'le not hinder thee: but take heed what thou speakest. I have so heeded and re-heeded it, that you shall see I warrant yee. 'Twere very fit (quoth Don-Quixote) that your Greatnesses would command this Coxcombe to bee thrust out; for hee will talk you a thousand follies.

Assuredly (quoth the Duchesse) Sancho shall not stirre a jot from me; for I know hee is very discreet. Discreet yeers live your Holinesse (quoth Sancho) for the good opinion you have of me, although I deserve it not, and thus sayes my Tale: A Gentle∣man of our Town, very rich and well born; for hee was of the blood of the Alimi of Medina del Campo, and married with Donna Mencia de Quinnones, that was daugh∣ter to Don Alonso de Maranon, Knight of the order of Saint sacques, that was drown∣ed in the Herradura, touching whom that quarrell was not long since in our Town; for, as I remember, my Master Don-Quixote was in it, where little Thomas the Mad∣cap, sonne to Baluastro the Smith was wounded. Is not all this true, Master mine? [After hee had begun a Tale without head or or foot, hee asks a question.] Say by your life, that these Lords may not hold me for a prating Lyer.

Hitherto (said the Clergy man) I rather hold thee for a Prater then a Lyer; but from hence-forward, I know not for what I shall hold thee. Thou givest so many witnesses, and so many tokens Sancho, that I cannot but say (quoth Don-Quixote) thou tellest true: on with thy Tale, and make an end; for I think thou wilt not have ended these two dayes. Let him goe on (quoth the Duchesse) to doe me a pleasure, and let him tell his Tale as hee pleaseth, though hee make not an end these six dayes; for if they were so many yeers they would bee the best that ever I passed in my life.

I say then, My Masters, that the said Gentleman I told you of at first, and whom I know, as well as I know one hand from another (for, from my house to his, 'tis not a Bow-shoot) invited a poor, but honest Husband-man. On Brother (said the Clergy∣man) for me thinks you travell with your Tale, as if you would not rest till the next world. In lesse then half this I will, if it please God (said Sancho) and so I proceed: The said Husband-man comming to the said Gentleman-Inviters house (God bee mercifull to him, for hee is now dead) and for a further token, they say, dyed like a Lambe; for I was not by: for at that time I was gone to another Town to reaping.

I prethee (quoth the Clergy-man) come back from your reaping, and without bu∣rying the Gentleman (except you mean to make more obsequies) end your Tale. The businesse then (quoth Sancho) was this, That both of them being ready to sit down at Table; for, me thinks, I see them now more then ever. The Dukes received great pleasure, to see the distaste that the Clergy-man took at the delayes and pawses of Sancho's Tale. And `Don-Quixote consumed himself in cho••••er and rage. Then thus (quoth Sancho) both of them being ready to sit down, the Husband-man contended with the Gentleman, not to sit uppermost, and hee with the other that hee should, as meaning to command in his own house: but the Husband-man presuming to bee mannerly and courteous, never would, till the Gentleman very moody, laying hands upon him, made him sit down perforce, saying, Sit down you Thresher; for wherefoe'ere I sit that shall bee the Tables end to thee: And now you have my Tale, and truly I beleeve it was brought in here pretty well to the purpose.

Don Quixotes face was in a thousand colours, that Jaspered upon his brow. The Lords dissembled their laughter, that Don-Quixote might not bee too much abashed, when they perceived Sancho's Knavery: And to change discourse, that Sancho might not proceed with other fooleries, the Duchesse asked Don-Quixote what news hee had of the Lady Dulcinea, and if hee had sent her for a Present lately any Gyants or Bug∣bears, since he could not but have overcome many•• To which Don-Quixote answered, Lady mine; my misfortunes, although they had a beginning, yet they will never have

ending: Gyants, Elves, and Bug-bears I have overcome and sent her; but where should they finde her that is Enchanted, and turned into the foulest creatures that can bee? I know not (quoth Sancho) me thinks shee is the fairest creature in the world, at least I know well, that for her nimblenesse and leaping [A good mistake] shee'l give no advantage to a Tumbler: In good faith, my Lady Duchesse, shee leaps from the ground upon an Asse as if shee were a Cat. Have you seen her Enchanted Sancho, said the Duke? How? seen her (quoth Sancho?) Why, who the Devill but I was the first that fell into the trick of her Enchantment? shee is as much Enchanted as my Asse.

The Clergy-man, that heard them talk of Gyants, Elves, and Bug-bears, and En∣chantments, fell into reckoning, that that was Don-Quixote de la Mancha, whose Story the Duke ordinarily read, and for which hee had divers times reprehended him, telling him, 'twas a madnesse to read such fopperies, and being assured of the certainty which hee suspected, speaking to the Duke very angerly, hee said: Your excellency ought to give God Almighty an account for this mans folly. This Don-Quixote, or Don Coxcombe, or how doe you call him? I suppose hee is not so very an Ideot as your Excellencie would make him, giving him ready occasions to proceede in his emptie-brain'd madnesse. And framing his discourse to Don-Quixote, hee said:

And who, good-man Dull-pate hath thrust into your braine, that you are a Knight Errant, that you overcome Gyants, and take Bug-beares? get you in Gods name, so bee it spoken, return to your house, and bring up your children if you have them, and looke to your stocke, and leave your ranging thorow the world, blowing bub∣bles, and making all that know you, or not know you, to laugh. Where have you ever found with a mischiefe, that there have beene, or are Knights Errant? Where any Gyants in Spain? or Bug beares in Mancha? or Enchanted Dulcinea's, with the rest of your troope of simplicities?

Don-Quixote was very attentive to this Venerable mans discourse, and seeing him now silent, without any respect of the Dukes, with an angry countenance, hee stood up and said: But his answer deserves a Chapter by it selfe.

CHAP. XXXII.

Of Don-Quixotes answer to his Reprehender, with other suc∣cesses as wise as witty.

DOn-Quixote being thus upon his legges, and trembling from head to foot, like a man filled with quicke-silver, with a hasty and thicke voyce, said, The place, and Presence before whom I am, and the respect I have, and alwaies had to men of your Coat, do binde and tye up the hands of my just wrath; so that as well for what I have said, as for I know, all know that women, and gowned mens weapons are the same, their tongues: I will enter into single combat with you with mine, though I rather expected good counsaile from you, then infamous revilings; good and well-meant reprehen∣sions require and aske other circumstances, other points; at least, your publike and so bitter reprehensions have passed all limits, and your gentle ones had beene better: neyther was it fit that without knowledge of the sinne you reprehend, you call the sin∣ner without more adoe, Cox-comb and Ideot. Well, for which of my Coxcombries seen in mee, doe you condemne and revile mee, and command mee home to my owne house, to looke to the governing of it, my wife and children, without knowing whe∣ther

I have any of these? Is there no more to bee done, but in a hurry to enter other mens houses, to rule their owners? nay one that hath beene a poore Pedagogue, or hath not seene more world then twenty miles about him, to meddle so roundly to give Lawes to Chivalry, and to judge of Knights Errant? Is it happily a vaine plot, or time ill spent, to range thorow the world, not seeking it's dainties, but the bit∣ternesse of it, whereby good men aspaire to the seat of immortality? If your Knights, your Gallants, or Gentlemen should have called mee Cox comb, I should have held it for an affront irreparable: but that your poore Schollers account mee a mad-man, that never trod the paths of Knight Errantry, I care not a chip; a Knight I am, a Knight I'le die, if it please the most Highest. Some goe by the spacious field of proud ambition, others by the way of servill and base flattery, a third sort by deceitfull hy∣pocrisie, and few by that of true Religion: But I by my starres inclination goe in the narrow path of Knight-Errantry; for whose exercise I despise wealth, but not honor. I have satisfied grievances, rectified wrongs, chastised insolencies, overcome Gyants, trampled over Sprits; I am enamoured, onely because there is a necessi∣ty Knights Errant should bee so, and though I bee so, yet I am not of those vicious Amorists, but of your chaste Platonicks. My intentions alwaies aime at a good end, as, to doe good to all men, and hurt to none: If hee that understands this, if hee that per∣formes it, that practiseth it, deserve to bee called foole, let your Greatnesses judge, excellent Duke and Duchesse.

Well, I advise you (quoth Sancho) Master mine, speake no more in your owne behalfe, for there is no more to bee said, no more to be thought, no more persevering in the world: besides, this Signior, denying as hee hath done, that there neyther is, nor hath beene Knight Errant in the world, no marvell though hee knowes not what hee hath said. Are you trow (quoth the Clergy man) that Panca, whom they say your Master hath promised an Island? Marry am I (said hee) and I am he that deserves it, as well as any other, and I am hee that keepe company with good men, and thou shalt bee as good as they: [Hee blunders out Proverbs as usually to no purpose, which is Sancho's parts alwaies:] and I am one of those that: Not with whom thou wert bred, but with whom thou hast fed; and of those that. Leane to a good tree and it will shadow thee. I have leaned to my Master, and it is many Moneths since I have kept him company, and I am his other selfe. If God please, live he and I shall live, hee shall not want Empires to command, nor I Islands to govern.

No surely friend Sancho straight said the Duke, for I in Signior Don-Quixotes name, will give thee an od one of mine, of no small worth. Kneel down Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, and kisse his Excellencies foot for the favor he hath done thee; which Sancho did, but when the Clergy-man saw this he rose up wonderfull angry, saying; by my ho∣ly Order, I am about to say; Your Excellency is as mad as one of these sinners, and see if they must not needs be mad, when wise men canonize their madness; your Excellen∣cy may doe well to stay with them, for whilest they be here, Ile get me home and save a labor of correcting what I cannot amend; and without any more adoe, leaving the rest of his dinner he went away, the Duke and the Duchess not being able to pacifice him, though the Duke said not much to him, as being hindred with laughter at his unseaso∣nable choller.

When he had ended his langhter, hee said to Don-Quixote, Sir Knight of the Lyons, you have answered so deeply for your selfe, that you left nothing unsatisfied to this your grievance, which though it seeme to bee one, yet is not; for as women have not the power to wrong, neither have Church-men, as you best know. 'Tis true quoth Don Quixote, the cause is, that hee who cannot bee wronged, can doe no wrong to any body; women, children and Church-men, as they cannot defend themselves when they are offended, so they cannot suffer an affront and a grievance, there is this diffe∣rence (as your Excellency best knowes:) The affront comes from one that may best doe it, and be able to make it good, the grievance may come from either Party without affronting. For example. One stands carelesly in the streete, some ten men come ar∣med, and bastanadoing him, he claps hand to his sword, and doth his devoir; but the

multitude of his assailants hinder him of his purpose, which is to bee revenged; this man is wronged, but not affronted, and this shall bee confirmed by another example. One stands with his back turned, another comes and strikes him, and when he hath done runns away; th'other follows, but overtakes him not: hee that received the blow is wronged, but not affronted, because the affront ought to have been maintained: if he that strook him (though hee did it basely) stand still and face his enemie; then hee that was strook is wronged and affronted both together: Wronged, because hee was strook cowardly; Affronted, because hee that strook him stood still to make good what hee had done: And so according to the Laws of cursed Duell, I may bee wrong∣ed, but not affronted; for Children nor Women have no apprehension, neither can they flye, nor ought to stand still: and so is it with the Religious; for these kindes of people want Armes offensive and defensive: So that though they bee naturally bound to defend themselves, yet they are not to offend any body: and though even now I said I was wronged, I saw now I am not; for hee that can receive no affront, can give none: for which causes I have no reason to resent, nor doe I, the words that that good man gave me; only I could have wished hee had stayed a little, that I might have let him see his errour, in saying or thinking there have been no Knights Errant in the world; for if Amadis had heard this, or one of those infinite numbers of his Linage, I know it had not gone well with his Worship.

I'le swear that (quoth Sancho) they would have given him a slash that should have cleaved him from top to foot like a Pomegranate or a ripe musk-Melon; they were pretty Youths to suffer such jests. By my Holidam, I think certainly if Renaldos de Montalnan had heard these speeches from the poor Knave, he had bung'd up his mouth that hee should not have spoken these three yeers; I, I, he should have dealt with them, and see how hee would have scaped their hands.

The Duchesse was ready to burst with laughter at Sancho, and to her minde shee held him to bee more conceited and madder then his Masser, and many at that time were of this opinion.

Finally, Don-Quixote was pacified and dinner ended, and the cloth being taken away, there came four Damzels, one with a silver Bason, the other with an Ewre, a third with two fine white Towels, the fourth with her armes tucked up to the middle, and in her white hands (for white they were) a white Naples washing-ball. Shee with the Bason came very mannerly, and set it under Don-Quixotes chin, who very silent and won∣dring at that kinde of ceremonie, taking it to bee the custome of the Country, to wash their faces instead of their hands; hee stretcht out his face as farre as hee could, and instantly the Ewre began to rain upon him, and the Damzell with the soap ran over his beard apace, raising white slakes of snow; for such were those scowrings, not only upon his beard, but over all the face and eyes of the obedient Knight, so that hee was forced to shut them.

The Duke and Duchesse that knew nothing of this, stood expecting what would become of this Lavatory. The Barber Damzell, when shee had soaped him well with her hand, feigned that shee wanted more water, and made her with the Ewre to goe for it, whilest Signior Don-Quixote expected; which shee did, and Don-Quixote remained one of the strangest pictures to move laughter that could bee imagined. All that were present (many in number) beheld him, and as they saw him with a neck half a yard long, more then ordinary swarthy, his eyes shut, and his beard full of soap, it was great mar∣vell, and much discretion they could forbear laughing. The Damzels of the jest cast down their eyes, not daring to look on their Lords; whose bodies with choller and laughter even tickled again, and they knew not what to doe, either to punish the bold∣nesse of the Gyrls, or reward them for the pastime they received to see Don-Quixote in that manner.

Lastly, shee with the Ewre came, and they made an end of washing Don-Quixote, and straight shee that had the Towels wiped and dryed him gently, and all four of them at once making him a low courtesie, would have gone: but the Duke, because Don-Quixote should not fall into the jest, called to the Damzel with the Bason, saying,

Come and wash mee too, and see that you have Water enough. The Wench, that was wylie and carefull, came and put the Bason under the Duke, as shee had done to Don-Quixote, and making haste, they washed and scowred him very well, and lea∣ving him dry and cleane, making Courtesies, they went away. After, it was known that the Duke swore that if they had not washed him as well as Don-Quixote, he would punish them for their lightnesse, which they discreetly made amends for, with soape∣ing him.

Sancho marked all the Ceremonies of the Lavatorie, and said to himselfe, Lord (thought he) if it be the custome in this Country to wash the Squires beards, as well as the Knights? for of my soule and conscience I have neede of it, and if they would, to run over me with a Rasor too.

What sayest thou to thy selfe Sancho? said the Duchesse. I say Madam quoth hee, that I have heard that in other Princes Palaces they use to give water to wash mens hands when the Cloth is taken away, but not Lye to scowre their Beards; and there∣fore I see 'tis good to live long, to see much; although 'tis said also, that hee that lives long, suffers much, though to suffer one of these Lavatories, is rather pleasure then paine.

Take no care Sancho quoth the Duchesse, for Ile make one of my Damozells wash thee, and if neede bee, lay thee a bucking. For my Beard quoth Sancho, I should bee glad for the present, for the rest God will provide hereafter. Looke you, Carver, said the Duchesse, what Sancho desires, doe just as hee would have you. The Car∣ver answered, that Signior Sancho should bee punctually served, and so hee went to dinner, and carried Sancho with him, the Dukes and Don-Quixote sitting still, and conferring in many and severall affaires, but all concerning the practise of Armes and Knight Errantry.

The Duchess requested Don-Quixote to delineate and describe unto her (since hee seemed to have a happy Memory) the beauty and feature of the Lady Dulcinea del To∣boso, for according to Fames Trumpet, she thought that shee must needs bee the fairest creature in the world, and also of the Mancha.

Don-Quixote sighed at the Duchesses command, and said; If I could take out my heart, and lay it before your Greatnesses eyes upon this Table in a dish, I would save my Tongue a labour to tell you that which would not bee imagined: for in my heart, your Excellency should see her lively depainted; but why should I be put to describe and delineate exactly, peece for peece, each severall beauty of the peerelesse Dulcinea, a burden fitter for other backs then mine; an enterprize in which the pensils of Parrasius, Timantes and Apelles, and the tooles of Lisippus, should indeed be imployed, to paint and carve her in tables of Marble and Brasse, and Ciceronian and Demosthenian Rhetorick to praise her.

What meane you by your Demosthenian, Signior Don-Quixote, quoth the Du∣chesse? Demosthenian Rhethorique (quoth hee) is as much as to say, the Rhethorique of Demosthenes, as Ciceronian of Cicere, both which were the two greatest Rhethoricians in the world. 'Tis true quoth the Duke, and you shewed your ignorance in asking that question; but for all that, Sir Don-Quixote might much deligh us, if hee would paint her out; for Ile warrant, though it bee but in her first draught, shee will appeare so well, that the most fair will envy her. I would willingly said he, if misfortune had not blotted out her Idea, that not long since befell her, which is such, that I may rather be∣waile it, then describ her; for your Greatnesses shall understand, that as I went here∣tofore to have kissed her hands, and receive her Benediction, Leave and License, for this my third sally; I found another manner of one then I looked for, I found her Enchan∣ted, and turned from a Princesse to a Country-wench, from fair to foule, from an An∣gell to a Deviil, from sweet to contagious, from well spoken to rustick, from modest to skittish, from light to darkness, and finally from Dulcinea del Tob••so, to a Peasantess of Sayago.

Now God defend us quoth the Duke, with a loud voice, who is hee that hath done so much hurt to the world? Who hath taken away the beautie that cheered it? The

quicknesse that entertained it? and the honesty that did credit it? Who, said hee? who but some cursed Enchanter? one of those many envious ones that persecute me: This wicked race borne in the world to darken and annihilate the exploits of good men, and to give light and raise the deeds of evill. Enchanters have me persecuted: En∣chanters me persecute: and Enchanters will me persecute, till they cast me and my lofty Chivalry into the profound Abisme of forgetfullnesse, and there they hurt and wound me where they see I have most feeling; for to take from a Knight Errant his Lady, is to take away his eye-sight, with which hee sees the Sunne that doth lighten him, and the food that doth nourish him. Oft have I said, and now I say again, that a Knight Errant without a Mistris is like a Tree without leaves; like a Building without ce∣ment; or a Shadow without a Body, by which it is caused.

There is no more to bee said (quoth the Duchesse:) but yet if wee may give credit to the History of Don-Quixote, that not long since came to light, with a generall ap∣plause, it is said, as I remember, That you never saw Dulcinea, and that there is no such Ladie in the world; but that shee is a meer fantasticall creature ingendred in your brain, where you have painted her with all the graces and perfections that you please.

Here is much to bee said, quoth hee, God knows, if there bee a Dulcinea or no in the world; whether shee bee fantasticall or not: and these bee matters, whose justi∣fying must not bee so farre searcht into: Neither have I ingendred or brought forth my Lady, though I contemplate on her, as is fitting, shee being a Lady, that hath all the parts that may make her famous thorow the whole world: as these; Fair with∣out Blemish; Grave without Pride; Amorous, but Honest; Thankfull, as Cour∣teous; Courteous as Well-bred: And finally, of high Descent; by reason that Beauty shines and martcheth upon her noble Blood in more degrees of perfection then in mean born Beauties.

'Tis true (said the Duke:) but Don-Quixote must give me leave to say what the Hi∣story, where his exploits are written, sayes, where is inferred, That though there bee a Dulcinea in Toboso, or out of it, and that shee bee fair in the highest degree, as you de∣scribe her; yet in her highnesse of Birth shee is not equall to your Oriana's, your Ala∣siraxaria's, or your Madasima's, [Names of faigned Ladies in Books of Knighthood,] with others of this kinde, of which your Histories are full, as you well know. To this I answer you (quoth Don-Quixote) Dulcinea is Virtuous, and Virtue adds to Linage, and one that is Mean and Virtuous ought to bee more esteemed then another Noble and Vicious: Besides, Dulcinea hath one shred that may make her Queen with Crown and Scepter: for the merit of a Fair and Virtuous Woman extends to doe greater miracles, and although not formally, yet virtually shee hath greater fortunes laid up for her.

I say, Signior Don Quixote (quoth the Duchesse) that in all you speak, you goe with your leaden plummet, and, as they say, with your sounding Line in your hand, and that henceforward I will beleeve, and make all in my house beleeve, and my Lord the Duke too, if need bee, that there is a Dulcinea in Toboso, and that at this day shee lives, that she is fair and well borne, and deserves that such a Knight as Don-Quixote should serve her, which is the most I can, or know how to endeer her: But yet I have one scruple left, and, I know not, some kinde of incling against Sancho: the scruple is, that the Historie sayes, That Panca found the said Lady Dulcinea (when hee carried your Epi∣stle) winnowing a Bag of Wheat, and for more assurance, that it was red Wheat, a thing that makes me doubt of her high Birth.

To which Don-Quixote replyed: Lady mine, you shall know, that all or the most part of my Affairs are clean different from the ordinary course of other Knigts Errant, whether they bee directed by the unserutable will of the Destinies, or by the malice of some envious Enchanter, and as it is evident, that all, or the most of your famous Knights Errant, one hath the favour not to bee Enchanted; another to have his flesh so impenetrable, that hee cannot bee wounded, as the famous Roldan, one of the twelve Peers of France, of whom it was said, that hee could not bee wounded, but upon the

soale of his left foot; and that this too must bee with the poynt of a great Pin, and with no other kind of weapon; so that when Bernardo del Carpio did kill him in Ronce∣sualles, seeing he could not wound him with his sword, he lifted him in his armes from ground and stifled him, as mindefull of the death that Hercules gave Anteon, that hor∣rid Gyant, that was said to be the son of the earth.

From all this I inferre, that it might bee I might have had some of these favours, as not to be wounded; for many times experience hath taught mee, that my flesh is soft and penetrable, or that I might have the power not to be Enchanted; but yet I have seen my selfe clapt in a Cage, where all the world was not able to enclose me, had it not been by virtue of Enchantments; but since I was free, I shall beleeve that no other can hinder mee: So that these Enchanters, who see, that upon me they cannot use their sleights, they revenge themselves upon the things I most affect, and mean to kill me, by ill-intreating Dulcinea, by whom I live; and so I beleeve, that when my Squire carry∣ed my Ambassage, they turned her into a Pesant, to be imployed in so base an Office, as winnowing of wheat; but I say, that wheat was neither red, nor wheat; but seeds of Oriental Pearls, and for proof of this, let me tell your Magnitudes, that coming a while since by Toboso, I could never find Dnlcineaes Palace, and Sancho my Squire, having seen her before in her own shape, which is the fairest in the world, to me she then seemed a foule course Country-wench, and meanly nurtured, being the very Discretion of the world: And since I am not Enchanted, neither can I be in all likelyhood, shee is shee that is Enchanted, grieved, turned, choped and changed, and my Enemies have revenged themselves on me, in her, and for her I must live in perpetual sorrow, till she come to her pristine being.

All this have I spoken, that no body may stand upon what Sancho said of that sifting and winnowing of hers; for since to mee shee was changed, no marvell though for him she was exchanged. Dulcinea is nobly borne, and of the best blood in Toboso, of which I warrant she hath no small part in her; and for her that Towne shall be famous in after-ages, as Troy for Helen, and Spayn for Cava [Daughter to an Earle that be∣trayed Spaine to the Moores. Vide Marian. Hist. de Reb. Hisp.] though with more honor and reputation: On the other side I would have your Lordships know that Sancho Panca is one of the prettiest Squires that ever served Knight Errant; somtimes he hath such sharp simplicities, that to think whether he be fool or knave, causeth no small con∣tent; he hath malice enough to be a knave, but more ignorance to be thought a foole; he doubts of every thing, and yet beleeves all; when I think sometimes hee will tumble headlong to the foot, he comes out with some kinde of discretion that lifts him to the Clouds.

Finally, I would not change him for any other Squire, though I might have a City to boot, therefore I doubt, whether it be good to send him to the Government that your Greatness hath bestowed on him, though I see in him a certain fitnesse for this you call governing; for, triming his understanding but a very little, hee would proceed with his gouernment as well as the King with his Customes: Besides, wee know by experience, that a Gevernor needs not much learning, or other abilities; for you have a hundred that scarce can read a word, and yet they govern like Ier-Falcons; the business is, that their meaning be good, and to hit the matter aright they undertake, for they shall not want Counsellors to teach them what they shall doe, as your Governors that be sword∣men and not Scholers, that have their Assistants to direct them: my councell should be to him; that neither Bribe he take, nor his due forsake, and some other such toyes as these that I have within me, and shall be declared at fit time to Sancho's profit, and the Islands which he shall govern.

To this point of their discourse came the Duke, Duchesse, and Don-Quixote, when straight they heard a great noyse of people in the Palace, and Sancho came, into the Hall unlook'd for, in a maze, with a strayner in stead of a Bib, and after him many Lads, or Scullions of the Kitchin, and other inferior people, and one came with a little kneading∣tub of water, that seemed to be dish-water who followed and persecuted Sancho, and sought by all means to joyn the vessel to his chin, and another would have washed him.

What's the matter, Hoe (quoth the Duchesse?) What doe yee to this honest man? What? doe yee not know hee is Governor Elect? To which the Barber-Scullion replyed, This Gentleman will not suffer himself to bee washed according to the cu∣stome, as my Lord the Duke and his Master were. Yes marry will I (said Sancho) in a great huffe: but I would have cleaner Towels and clearer Sudds, and not so sluttish hands; for there is no such difference between my Master and mee, that they should wash him with Rose-water and me with the Devills lye: The customes of great mens Palaces are so much the better, by how little trouble they cause; but your Lavatory custome here is worse then Penetentiaries; my beard is clean, and I need no such re∣freshing; and hee that comes to wash me, or touch a hair of my head (of my beard, I say) sir-reverence of the companie, I'le give him such a box, that I'le set my fist in his skull; for these kinde of ceremonies and soap-layings are rather flouts then entertainers of guests.

The Duchesse was ready to die with laughter, to see Sancho's choller, and to heare his reasons: But Don-Quixote was not very well pleased to see him so ill dressed with his jaspered Towell, and hemmed in by so many of the Kitchin Pensioners; so making a low leg to the Dukes, as if hee intended to speake, with a grave voyce hee spoke to the skoundrels.

Hark yee Gentlemen, Pray let the youth alone, and get you gone as you came, if you please; for my Squire is as cleanly as another, and these Troughs are as straight and close for him as your little red clay drinking Cups: take my counsail and leave him, for neither hee nor I can abide jests. Sancho caught his words out of his mouth and went on, saying; No, let um come to make sport with the setting Dogg and I'le let um alone; as sure as it is now night, let um bring a Comb hither, or what they will, and curry my Beard, and if they finde any thing foul in it, let um shear me to fitters. Then quoth the Duchesse, (unable to leave laughing) Sancho sayes well, hee is clean, as hee sayes, and needs no washing: and if our custome please him not, let him take his choyce; besides, you ministers of cleanlinesse have been very slack and carelesse, I know not whether I may say presumtuous, to bring to such a personage and such a beard, instead of a Bason and Ewre of pure gold and Diaper Towels, your kneeding-Troughs and Dish-clouts: but you are unmannerly raskalls, and like wicked wretches must needs shew the grude you bear to the Squires of Knights Errant.

The Raskall Regiment, together with the Carver that came with them, thought verily the Duchesse was in earnest: So they took the Sive-cloth from Sancho's neck, and even ashamed went their wayes and left him, who seeing himself out of that (as hee thought) great danger, kneeled before the Duchesse, saying; From great Ladies great favours are still expected; this that your worship hath now done me, cannot be recom∣penced with lesse, then to desire to see my self an Armed Knight Errant, to imploy my self all dayes of my life in the service of so high a Lady. I am a poor Husbandman, my name is Sancho Panca, Children I have, and serve as a Squire; if in any of these I may serve your Greatnesse, I will bee swifter in obeying, then your Ladyship in com∣manding.

'Tis well seen Sancho, quoth the Duchesse, that you have learnt to bee courteous in the very school of courtesie: I mean, it seems well, that you have been nursed at Don-Quixotes brest, who is the cream of Complement, and the flower of Ceremonies: well fare such a Master and such a Servant; the one for North-starre of Knight Errantry, the other for the starre of Squire-like fidelitie: Rise, friend Sancho, for I will repay your courtesie, in making my Lord the Duke, as soon as hee can, performe the promise hee hath made you, of being Governor of the Island.

With this their discourse ceased, and Don-Quixote went to his afternoons sleep, and the Duchesse desired Sancho, that if hee were not very sleepie, hee would passe the after∣noon with her and her Damzels in a cool room. Sancho answered, That though true it were, that hee was used in the afternoons to take a some five hours nap, yet to doe her goodnesse service, hee would doe what hee could, not to take any that day, and would obey her command: so hee parted.

The Duke gave fresh order for Don-Quixotes usage to bee like a Knight Errant, without differing a jot from the ancient stile of those Knights.

CHAP. XXXIII.

Of the wholesome discourse that passed betwixt the Duchesse and her Damzells, with Sancho Panca, worthy to bee read and noted.

WEll; the Storie tells us, that Sancho slept not that day, but according to his promise came, when hee had dined, to see the Duchesse, who for the delight shee received to heare him, made him sit down by her in a low Chaire, though Sancho, out of pure mannerlinesse, would not sit: but the Duchesse bade him sit as hee was Gover∣nour, and speak as hee was Squire, though in both respects hee de∣served the very seat of Cyd Ruydiaz the Champion.

Sancho shrunk up his shoulders, [The Spainiards lowsie humility,] obeyed and sate down, and all the Duchesses Waiting-women and Damzels stood round about her, attending with great silence to Sancho's discourse: but the Duchesse spake first, saying:

Now that wee are all alone, and that no body hears us, I would Signior Governor would resolve me of certain doubts I have, arising from the printed History of the Grand Don-Quixote, one of which is, That since honest Sancho never saw Dulcinea; I say the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, neither carried her Don-Quixotes Letter (for it re∣mained in the Note-Book in Sierra Morena) how hee durst feign the answer, and that hee found her sifting of Wheat; this being a mock and a lye and so prejudiciall to the Lady Dulcinea's reputation, and so unbefitting the condition and fidelity of a faithfull Squire.

Here Sancho rose without answering a word, and softly crooking his body, and with his finger upon his lipps, hee went up and down the room, lifting up the hangings: which done, hee came and sate down again, and said; Now I see Madame, that no body lies in wait to hear us, besides the by-standers, I will answer you without fear of fright, all that you have asked, and all that you will ask mee. And first of all I say, That I hold my Master Don-Quixote, for an incurable Mad-man, though sometimes hee speaks things, that in my opinion, and so in all theirs that heare him, are so discreet, and car∣ried in so even a track, that the Devill himself cannot speak better; but truly and without scruple I take him to bee a very Frantick; for so I have it in my mazard, I dare make him beleeve that, that hath neither head nor foot, as was the answer of that Let∣ter, and another thing that hapned some eight dayes agoe, which is not yet in print, to wit, the Enchantment of my Ladie Dulcinea; for I made him beleeve she is Enchanted, it being as true as the Moon is made of green Cheese.

The Duchesse desired him to tell her that Enchantment and conceit; which hee did just as it passed; at which the hearers were not a little delighted. And prosecuting her discourse, the Duchesse said, I have one scruple leaps in my minde,, touching what Sancho hath told mee, and a certain buz comming to mine eares that tells me; If Don-Quixote de la Mancha bee such a shallow Mad-man and Widgin, and Sancho Panca his Squire know it; yet why for all that hee serves and follows him, and relies on his vain promises; doubtlesse, hee is as very a Mad-man and Block-head as his Master, which being so as it is, it will be very unfitting for my Lord the Duke to give Sancho an Island to Govern; for hee that cannot govern himself, will ill govern others.

By'r Lady (quoth Sancho) that scruple comes in pudding-time: but bid your Buzze speake plaine, or how he will; for I know he sayes true; and if I had been wise, I might long since have left my Master: but 'twas my lucke, and this vilde Errantry, I cannot doe withall, I must follow him, wee are both of one place, I have eaten his bread, I love him well, hee is thankfull hee gave mee the Asse-colts, and above all, I am faithfull and it is impossible any chance should part us, but death: and if your Alti∣tude will not bestow the Government on mee, with lesse was I borne, and perhaps, the missing it might bee better for my conscience; for though I bee a foole, yet I un∣derstand the Proverbe that sayes, The Ant had wings to doe her hurt, and it may bee, Sancho the Squire may sooner goe to Heaven, then Sancho the Governour. Here is as good bread made, as in France; and in the night Ione is as good as my Lady; and unhappy is that man, that is to breake his fast at two of the clocke in the after-noone; and there's no heart a handfull bigger then another; and the stomacke is filled with the coursest victuals; and the little Fowles in the aire, have God for their Provider and Cater; and foure yards of course Cuenca cloth, keepe a man as warme, as foure of fine Lemster wooll of Segovia: [Their Lemster breed came first out of England:] & when wee once leave this world, and are put into the earth, the Prince goes in as narrow a path as the Journey-man; and the Popes body takes up no more roome then a Sex∣tons, though the one bee higher then the other; for when wee come to the pit, all are even, or made so in spite of their teethes and, and good-night.

Let mee say againe, If your Lady-ship will not give mee the Island, as I am a foole I'le refuse it, for being a wise man: for I have heard say, The neerer the Church, the further from God; and, All is not gold that glistreth; and that from the Oxen, plough and yokes, the Husband-man Bamba was chosen for King of Spaine: and that Radrigo, from his tissues, sports, and riches, was cast out to bee eaten by Snakes (if wee may be∣leeve the rimes of the old Romants, that lye not.)

Why, no more they doe not (said Donna Rodriguez, the Wayting-woman, that was one of the Auditours) for you have one Romant that sayes, that Don Rodrigo was put alive into a Tombe full of Toades, Snakes, and Lizards, and some two dayes after from within the Tombe, hee cryed with a low and pittifull voyce, Now they eat, now they eat mee in the place where I sinned most: and according to this, this man hath reason to say, hee had rather bee a Labourer then a King, to bee eaten to death with vermine.

The Duchesse could not forbeare laughing, to see the simplicity of her woman, nor to admire to heare Sancho's proverbiall reasons, to whom shee said; Honest Sancho knows, that when a Gentleman once makes a promise, he will perform it though it cost him his life. My Lord and Husband the Duke, though hee bee no Errant, yet hee is a Knight, and so hee will accomplish his promise of the Island, in spight of envy or the worlds malice. Bee of good cheere, Sancho; for when thou least dreamest of it, thou shalt bee seated in the Chayre of thy Island, and of Estate, and shalt claspe thy Government in thy robes of Tissue. All that I charge thee, is that you looke to the governing your Vassalls, for you must know, they are all well-borne and loyall.

For governing (quoth Sancho) there's no charging mee; for I am naturally cha∣ritable and compassionate to the poor, and of him that does well they will not speake ill, and by my Holidam they shall play mee no false play: I am an old dog, and understand all their Hist, hist: and I can snuffe my selfe when I see time, and I will let no cob∣webs fall in my eyes, for I know where my shoo wrings mee: this I say, because honest men shall have hand heart, but wicked men neyther foot nor fellowship. And mee∣thinkes for matter of Government, there is no more but to begin, and in fifteen daies Governour, I could manage the place, and know as well to governe, as to labour in which I was bredd. You have reason, Sancho, quoth the Duchesse, for no man is born wise, and Bishops are made of men, and not of stones. But turning to our discourse that wee had touching the Lady Dulcinea's Enchantment, I am more then assured, that that imagination that Sancho had to put a tricke upon his Master, and to make him

thinke the Country wench was Dulcinea, that if his Master knew her not, all was invented by some of those Enchanters that persecute Signior Don-Quixote; for I know partly, that that Country wench that leapt upon the Asse-colt, was, and is Dulcinea, and Sancho thinking to be the deceiver, is himselfe deceived; and there is no more to be doubted in this, then in things that wee never saw: and know, Sancho, that here wee have our Enchanters too, that love, and tell us plainly and truely, what passed in the world, without trickes or devices; and beleeve mee, Sancho that leaping wench was, and is Dulcinea, who is inchanted as the Mother that brought her forth, and when wee least thinke of it, wee shall see her in her proper shape, and then Sancho will thinke hee was deceived.

All this may be quoth Sancho, and now will I beleeve all that my Master told mee of Montesino's Cave where he said he saw our Mistresse Dulcinea, in the same apparel and habit, that I said I had seen her in, when I Enchanted her at my pleasure; and it may be Madam, all is contrary (as you say) for from my rude wit, it could not bee pre∣sumed that I should in an instant make such a witty Lie; neither doe I beleeve that my Master is so mad, that with so poore and weake a perswasion as mine, he should beleeve a thing so incredible; but for all that good Ladie, doe not think me to be so malevolent, for such a Leeke as I am, is not bound to boare into the thoughts and maliciousnesse of most wicked Enchanters. I fained that, to scape from my Masters thre••ts, and not with any purpose to hurt him, and if it fell out otherwise, God is above that judgeth all hearts. 'Tis true said the Duchesse, but tell mee Sancho, what is that you said of Montesino's Cave? I should be glad to heare it. Then Sancho began to tell word for word, all that passed in that Adventure: Which when the Duchesse heard, shee said; Out of this successe may bee inferred, that since the grand Don-Quixote sayes that hee saw there the same lobouring wench that Sancho saw at their coming from Toboso, with∣out doubt it is Dulcinea, and that in this the Enchanters here are very listning and wa∣ry. This I said (quoth Sancho) that if my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso be Enchanted, at her perill be it, for Ile have nothing to doe with my Masters Enemies, who are many, and bad ones. True it is, that shee that I saw was a Countrey-wench, and so I held her, and so I judged her to bee, and if that were Dulcinea, Ile not meddle with her, ney∣ther shall the Blowze passe upon my account. I, I, let's have giving and taking every foot. Sancho said it, Sancho did it, Sancho turned, Sancho return'd, as if Sancho were a dish-clout, and not the same Sancho Panca that is now in print all the world over, as Samson Carrasco told mee, who at least is one that is Bachelorized in Salamanca, and such men cannot ly, but when they list, or that it much concerns them; so there is no reason any man should deale with me, since I have a good report, and as I have heard my Master say; Better have an honest name then much wealth. Let um joyne mee to this Government and they shall see wonders; for he that hath been a good Squire, will easily be a good Governor.

Whatsoever Sancho hitherto hath said (quoth the Duchesse) is Caton••an Senten∣ces, or at least taken out of the very entrailes of Michael Verinus, Florentibus occi∣dit annis. Well, well, to speake as thou dost, a badd cloake often hides a good drinker. Truely Madam, said Sancho, I never drunke excessively in my life, to quench my thirst sometimes I have, for I am no hypocrite, I drinke when I am dry, and when I am urged too; for I love not to bee nice or unmannerly; for what heart of marble is there, that will not pledge a friends carowse? but though I take my cup, I goe not away drunke: besides, your Knight Errants Squires ordinarily drinke water, for they alwaies travell by Forrests, Woods, Medowes, Mountaines, cragy Rockes, and meet not with a pittance of Wine, though they would give an eye for it.

I beleeve it, said the Duchesse, and now, Sancho, thou maist repose thy selfe, and after wee will talke at large, and give order how thou maist bee joyned, as thou saist, to the Government.

Sancho againe gave the Duchesse thankes, but desired her shee would doe him the kindenesse, that his Dapple might bee well lookt to. What Dapple (quoth shee?) My Asse (said Sancho) for not to call him so, I say my Dapple: and when I came into

the Castle, I desired this waiting woman to have a care on him, and shee grew so loud with me, as if I called her ugly or old; for I held it fitter for them to Provander Asses, then to Authorize Rooms: Lord God, a Gentleman of my Town could not indure these waiting-women. Some Pesant, quoth Donna Rodriguez the waiting-woman; for if hee had been a Gentleman and well bred, hee would have extolled them above the Moon.

Goe too, no more (quoth the Duchesse;) Peace Rodriguez, and bee quiet Sancho, and let me alone to see that Sancho's Asse bee made much of; for being Sancho's hous∣hold-stuff, I will hold him on the Apples of mine eyes. Let him bee in the Stable (quoth Sancho;) for neither hee nor I am worthy to bee so much as a minute upon those Ap∣ples of your Greatnesse eyes; and I had as liefe stab my self as consent to that: for although my Master sayes, that in courtesies one should rather lose by a card too much then too little; yet in these Asse-like courtesies, and in your Apples, it is fit to bee wary and proceed with discetion. Carry him Sancho (quoth the Duchesse) to thy Government; for there thou mayest cherish him at thy pleasure, and manumit him from his labour. Doe not think you have spoken jestingly Lady Duchesse (quoth San∣cho;) for I have seen more then two Asses goe to Governments, and 'twould bee no novelty for me to carrie mine.

Sancho's discourse renewed in the Duchesse more laughter and content; and send∣ing him to repose, shee went to tell the Duke all that had passed between them, and both of them plotted and gave order to put a jest upon Don-Quixote that might bee a famous one, and suting to his Knightly style, in which kinde they played many pranks with him, so proper and handsome, that they are the best contained amongst all the Adventures of this Grand History.

CHAP. XXXIV.

How notice is given for the dis-enchanting of the peerlesse Dul∣cinea del Toboso, which is one of the most famous Adven∣tures in all this Book.

GReat was the pleasure the Duke and Duchesse received with Don-Quixote and Sancho Panca's conversation; and they resolved to play some tricks with them, that might carry some twi-lights and appea∣rances of Adventures. They took for a Motive that which Don-Quixote had told unto them of Montesinos Cave, because they would have it a famous one: but that which the Duchesse most ad∣mired at, was, that Sancho's simplicity should bee so great, that hee should beleeve for an infallible truth, that Dulcinea was Enchanted, hee hmself having been the Enchanter and the Impostor of that businesse: So giving order to their ser∣vants for all they would have done, some a week after they carried Don-Quixote to a Boar-hunting, with such a troop of Wood-men and Hunters, as if the Duke had been a crowned King. They gave Don-Quixote a Hunters sute, and to Sancho one of sinest green cloth: but Don-Quixote would not put on his, saying; That shortly hee must return again to the hard exercise of Armes, and that therefore hee could carry no Ward∣robes or Sompters. But Sancho took his, meaning to sell it with the first occasion offered.

The wisht for day being come, Don-Quixote Armed himself, and Sancho clad him∣self, and upon his Dapple (for hee would not leave him, though they had given him a Horse) thrust himself amongst the troop of the Wood-men. The Duchesse was bravely

attyred, and Don-Quixote out of pure courtesie and manners took the Reins of her Palfrey, though the Duke would not consent: at last they came to a wood that was be∣tween two high Mountains, where taking their stands, their lanes and paths, and the Hunters divided into severall stands, the chase began with great noyse, hooting and hollowing, so that one could scarce heare another, as well for the cry of the dogs, as for the sound of the Hornes.

The Duchesse alighted, and with a sharpe Javelin in her hand, shee tooke a stand, by which shee knew some wilde Boares were used to passe: The Duke also alighted and Don-Quixote and stood by her, Sancho stayed behinde them all, but stirred not from Dapple, whom he durst not leave, lest some ill chance should befall him, and they had scarce lighted, and set themselves in order with some servants, when they saw there came a huge Boar by them baited with the Dogs, and followed by the Hunters, gnashing his teeth and tuskes, and foaming at the mouth; and Don-Quixote seeing him, buck∣ling his shield to him, and laying hand on his sword, went forward to encounter him; the like did the Duke with his Javelin; but the Duchesse would have beene formost of all, if the Duke had not stopped her. Only Sancho, wen he saw the valiant Beast, left Dapple, and began to scud as fast as hee could, and striving to get up into a high Oake, it was not possible for him, but being even in the middest of it, fastned to a bough, and striving to get to the top, he was so unluckie and unfortunate that the bough broke, and as he was tumbling to the ground, he hung in the ayre fastned to a snag of the Oake, unable to come to the ground, and seeing himselfe in that perplexitie, and that his greene coat was torne, and thinking that if that wilde-Beast should come thither, he might lay hold on him, he began to cry out and call for help so outragiously, that all that heard him, and saw him not, thought verily some wilde-Beast was devou∣ring him.

Finally, the Tuskie Boare was laid along, with many Javelins points, and Don-Quixote turning aside to Sanchoes noyse, that knew him by his note, hee saw him hanging on the Oake and his head downward, and Dapple close by him, that never left him in all his calamitie; and Cid Hamete sayes, that he seldome saw Sancho without Dapple, or Dapple without Sancho, such was the love and friendship betwixt the couple:

Don-Quixote went and unhung Sancho, who seeing himselfe free and on the ground, beheld the torne place of his hunting suite, and it grieved him to the soule, for hee thought he had of that suite at least an inheritance. And now they layed the Boare a∣thwart upon a great Mule, and covering him with Rosemary-bushes, and Myrtle boughs, he was carried in signe of their victorious spoiles, to a great field-Tent, that was set up in the midst of the wood, where the Tables were set in order, and a dinner made ready, so plentifull and well drest, that it well shewed the bounty and magnifi∣cence of him that gave it.

Sancho, shewing the wounds of his torne Garment to the Duchesse said; If this had beene hunting of the Hare, my Coate had not seene it selfe in this extremitie: I know not what pleasure there can bee in looking for a Beast, that if hee reach you with a tuske, he may kill you: I have often heard an old song that sayes; Of the Beares maist thou be eat, as was Favila the great. He was a Gothish King (quoth Don-Quixote) that going a hunting in the Mountains, a Beare eat him. This I say (said Sancho) I would not that Kings and Princes should thrust themselves into such dangers, to enjoy their pleasure; for what pleasure can there bee to kill a Beast that hath commit∣ted no fault?

You are in the wrong Sancho, quoth the Duke; for the exercise of Beast-hunting is the necessariest for Kings and Princes that can bee. The Chase is a shew of Warre, where there be stratagems, crafts, deceits to overcome the Enemy at pleasure; in it you have sufferings of cold and intolerable heates, sleepe and idlenesse are banisht, the powers are corroborated, the members agilitated. In conclusion, 'tis an exercise that may bee used without prejudice to any body, and to the pleasure of every-body, and the best of it is, that it is not common, as other kindes of sports are, except flying at the

Fowle onely fit for Kings and Princes. Therefore, Sancho, change thy opinion, and when thou art a Governour, follow the chase, and thou shalt bee a hundred times the better.

Not so (quoth Sancho) 'tis better for your Governor to have his leggs broken and bee at home: 'twere very good that poor suiters should come and seek him, and hee should bee taking his pleasure in the Woods: 'twould bee a sweet Government yfaith. 'Good faith Sir, the Chase and Pastimes are rather for idle companions then Gover∣nors: My sport shall bee Vyed Trump at Christmas, and at Skettle pinns Sundaies and Holydayes; for your Hunting is not for my condition, neither doth it agree with my conscience.

Pray God Sancho it bee so (quoth the Duke;) for to doe and to say goe a severall way. Let it bee how 'twill (said Sancho;) for a good Pay-master needs no Pledge, and Gods help is better then early rising; and the belly carries the leggs, and not the leggs the belly: I mean, that if God help me, and I doe honestly what I ought, without doubt I shall Govern as well as a Ier-Falcon: I, I, put your finger in my mouth, and see if I bite or no.

A mischief on thee, cursed Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote:) and when shall wee heare thee, as I have often told thee, speak a wise speech, without a Proverb? My Lords, I beseech you leave this: Dunce; for hee will grinde your very souls, not with his two, but his two thousand Proverbs, so seasonable, as such bee his health or mine, if I hearken to them.

Sancho's Proverbs (quoth the Duchesse) although they bee more then Mallara's, yet they are not lesse to bee esteemed then his, for their sententious brevity. For my part, they more delight me then others that bee farre better, and more sit∣ting.

With these and such like savory discourses, they went out of the Tent to the Wood, to seek some more sport; and the day was soon past, and the night came on, and not so light and calm as the time of the yeer required, it being about Mid-summer: but a cer∣tain dismallnesse it had, agreeing much with the Dukes intention, and so as it grew to bee quite dark; it seemed that upon a sodain, all the wood was on fire, thorow every part of it; and there were heard here and there, this way and that way, an infinite compa∣ny of Cornets, and other warlike instruments, and many troops of Horse that passed thorow the Wood: The light of the Fire and the sound of the warlike Instruments, did as it were blinde, and stunned the eyes and eares of the by-standers, and of all those that were in the wood. Straight they heard a companie of Moorish cries, [Le li lies, like the cries of the Wild Irish,] such as they use when they joyn Battell; Drums and Trumpets sounded and Fifes, all, as it were, in an instant, and so fast, that he that had had his sences, might have lost them, with the confused sound of these Instruments.

The Duke was astonish'd, the Duchesse dismay'd, Don Quixote wondred, Sancho trembled: And finally, even they that knew the occasion were frighted: Their fear caused a generall silence, and a Post in a Devills weed passed before them, sounding, instead of a Cornet, a huge hollow Horne that made a hoarce and terrible noyse. Hark you Post (quoth the Duke; What are you? Whither goe you? And what men of warre are they that crosse over the Wood? To which the Post answered, with a hor∣rible and free voyce; I am the Devill, I goe to seek Don-Quixote de la Mancha; and they which come here, are six Troops of Enchanters that bring the Peerlesse Dulcinea del Toboso upon a Triumphat Charriot; shee comes here Enchanted with the brave French man Montesinos, to give order to Don-Quixote, how shee may bee disin∣chanted.

If thou wert a Devill, as thou sayest (quoth the Duke) and as they shape shews thee to bee, thou wouldst have known that Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha; for hee is here before thee. In my soul and conscience (quoth the Devill) I thought not on it; for I am so diverted with my severall cogitations, that I quite forgot the chief for which I came. Certainly (said Sancho) this Devill is an honest fellow, and a good Chri∣stian; for if hee were not hee would not have sworn by his soul and conscience: and

now I beleeve, that in Hell you have honest men. Straight the Devill without lighting, directing his fight toward Don Quixote said; The unluckie, but valiant Knight Monte∣sinos, sends me to thee, O Knight of the Lyons (for me thinks now I see thee in their pawes) commanding me to tell thee from him, that thou expect him here, where he will meet thee; for he hath with him Dulcinea del Toboso, and meanes to give thee instructi∣on how thou shalt disinchant her; and now I have done my message I must away, and the Devills, like mee bee with thee: and good Angels guard the rest. And this said, he windes his monstrous horne, and turned his back, and went without staying for a∣ny Answere.

Each one began afresh to admire, especially Sancho and Don-Quixote. Sancho, to see that in spight of truth, Dulcinea must bee enchanted: Don-Quixote, to think whether that were true that befell him in Montesino's Cave, and being elevated in these dumps, the Duke said to him; Will you stay, Signior Don-Quixote? Should I not, quoth hee? Here will I stay couragious and undanted, though all the Devils in Hell should close with me. Well quoth Sancho, if I heare another Devill and another Horne, I'le stay in Flanders as much as here.

Now it grew darker, and they might perceive many lights up and downe the Wood; like the dry exhalations of the Earth in the Skie, that seeme to us to bee shoo∣ting-Starres: Besides, there was a terrible noyse heard, just like that of your creak∣ing Wheeles of Oxe-wains, from whose piercing squeake (they say) Beares and Wolves doe fly, if there be any the way they pass. To this tempest there was another added, that increast the rest, which was, that it seemed that in all four parts of the Wood, there were foure Encounters or Battels in an instant; for there was first a sound of terrible Cannon-shotte, and an infinite company of Guns were discharged, and the voyces of the Combatants seemed to be heard by and by a farre off, the Moorish cries reiterated.

Lastly, the Trumpets, Cornets and Hornes, Drums, Canons and Guns, and above all, the fearefull noyse of the Carts, all together made a most confused and horrid sound, which tried Don-Quixotes uttermost courage to suffer it: but Sancho was quite gone, and fell in a swound upon the Duchesses coates, who received him and com∣manded they should cast cold water in his face; which done, he came to himselfe, just as one of the Carts of those whistling wheeles came to the place, foure lazie Oxen drew it, covered with black clothes; at every horne they had a lighted torch tyed, and on the top of the Cart there was a high seat made, upon which a venerable old man sate, with a Beard as white as snow, and so long that it reached to his gyrdle; his garment was a long gowne of black-Buckoram: for because the Cart was full of lights, all within it might very well bee discerned and seen; two ugly Spirits guided it, clad in the said Buckoram, so monstrous, that Sancho, after hee had seen them, winked, because he would see them no more; when the Cart drew neer to their standing, the ve∣nerable old man rose from his seat, and standing up with a loud voice said; I am the wise Lyrgander; and the Cart passed on, he not speaking a word more,

After this, there passed another Cart in the same manner, with another old man in∣thronized; who making the Cart stay; with a voice no lesse lofty then the other said; I am the wise Alquife, great friend to the ungratefull Vrganda; and on he went: And straight another Cart came on, the same pace; but he that sate in the chief seat, was no old man (as the rest) but a good robustious fellow, and ill favoured, who when hee came neere, rose up, as the rest; but with a voice more hoarce and divellish, sayd; I am Archelaus the Enchanter, mortall enemy to Amadis de Gaule, and all his kin∣dred: And so on hee passed, all three of these Carts turning a little forward, made a stand, and the troublesome noyse of their wheeles ceased, and straight there was heard no noyse, but a sweet and consenting sound of well-formed musicke, which comforted Sancho, and hee held it for a good signe, and hee sayd thus to the Duchesse, from whom hee stirred not a foot, not a jot.

Madam, where there is musicke, there can bee no ill. Neither (quoth the Duchesse) where there is light and brightnesse. To which (sayd Sancho) the fire gives light, and

your Bon-fires (as wee see) and perhaps might burne us: but Musick is alwaies a signe of feasting and jollity. You shall see that (quoth Don-Quixote) for hee heard all, and hee said well, as you shall see in the next chapter.

CHAP. XXXV.

Where is prosecuted the notice that Don-Quixote had, of dis-enchant∣ing Dulcinea, with other admirable accidents.

WHen the delightfull Musick was ended they might see one of those you call Triumphant Chariots come towards them, drawn by six dun Mules, but covered with white linnen, and upon each of them came a Penetentiary with a Torch, clothed likewise all in white: the Cart was twice or thrice as big as the three former, and at the top and sides of it were twelve other Penetentiaries, as white as snow, all with their Torches lighted, a sight that admired and astonisht joyntly: And in a high throne sate a Nymph, clad in a vail of cloth of silver, a world of golden spangles glimmering about her; her face was covered with a fine cloth of Tiffany, for all whose wrinkles the face of a most delicate Damzell was seen thorow it, and the many lights made them easily distinguish her beauty and yeers, which (in likelyhood) came not to twenty, nor were under seventeen: Next her came a shape, clad in a gown of those you call side-Garments, down to her foot; her head was covered with a black vaile: But even as the Cart came to bee just over against the Dukes and Don-Quixote, the Musick of the Hoboyes ceased, and the Harps and Lutes that came in the Cart began; and the gowned Shape rising up, unfolding her Garment on both sides, and taking her vail off from her head, shee discovered plainly the picture of raw-boned Death, at which Don-Quixote was troubled, and Sancho afraid, and the Dukes made shew of some timerous resenting. This live Death standing up, with a drowzie voyce, and a tongue not much waking, began in this man∣ner.

I Merlin am,* 3.1 hee that in Histories, They say, the Devill to my Father had, (A tale by Age succeeding authorized) The Prince and Monarch of: the Magick Art, And Register of deep Astrologie, Succeeding Ages, since, me emulate, That only seek to sing and blazen forth The rare exploits of those Knights Errant brave, To whom I bore, and beare a liking great.

And howsoever of Enchanters, and Those that are Wizards and Magicians bee, Hard the condition rough and devillish is; Yet mine is tender, soft, and amorous, And unto all friendly, to doe them good.

In the obscure and darkest Caves of Dis, Whereas my soul hath still been entertain'd In forming Circles and of Characters,

I heard the lamentable note, of faire And peerelesse Dulcin••a del Toboso.

I knew of her Enchantment and hard hap, Her transformation, from a goodly Dame Into a Rustick wench, I sorry was, And shutting up my spirit within this hollow, This terrible and fierce Anatomy. When I had turn'd a hundred thousand books Of this my Dev'lish Science and uncouth, I come to give the remedy that's fit To such a grief, and to an ill so great.

Oh Glory thou of all, that doe put on Their coats of steele and hardest Diamond, Thou light, thou lanthorn, path, north-star & guide To those, that casting off their slugish sleep And fether-beds, themselves accomodate To use the e••ercise of bloody Armes, To thee, I say, Oh never prais'd enough, Not as thou ought'st to bee! Oh valiant!

Oh joyntly wise•• to thee Oh Don-Quixote, The Mancha's splendour, and the Star of Spain, That to recover to hir first estate, The peer••lesse Dulcinea del Tobos. It is conven••••••t that Sancho thy Squire, Himselfe three thousand and three hundred give Lashes, upon his valiant buttocks both Vnto the Aire discover'd, and likewise That they may vex, and smart, & grieve him sore And upon this, let all resolved bee, That of her hard misfortunes Authors were My Masters, this my cause of coming was.

By G••d (quoth Sancho) I say not three thousand; but I will as soone give my selfe three stabs, as three, the Devill take this kinde of dis-enchanting. What have my Buttocks to doe with Enchantments? Verily, if Master Merlin have found no other meanes ••o dis-Enchant the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, shee may goe Enchanted to her Grave.

Goodman-Rascall (quoth Don-Quixote:) you Garlick Stinkard; I shall take you, and binde you to a Tree, as naked as your Mother brought you forth, and let mee not say three thousand and three hundreth, but Ile give you sixe thousand and sixe hundred, so well laid on, that you shall not claw them off at three thousand and three hundred plucks, and reply not a word, if thou doest, Ile teare out thy ve∣ry Soule.

Which when M••rline heard, quoth hee, It must not bee so, for the Stripes that honest Sancho must receive, must bee with his good will, and not perforce, and at what time hee will, for no time is prefixed him; but it is lawfull for him, if hee will redeeme one halfe of this beating, he may receive it from anothers hand that may lay it on well.

No other, nor laying on (quoth Sancho) no hand shall come neere mee: Am I Dulcinea del Tobosoes Mother trow ye? That my Bu••••o••ks should pay for the offence of her Eyes? My Master indeede, hee is a part of her, since every stitch while he calls her My Life, my Soule, my Sustenance, my Prop; hee may bee whipped for her,

and doe all that is fitting for her dis-Enchanting, but for mee to whip my selfe I ber∣nounce. [Mistaken in stead of Renounce, for so it go•••• in the Spanish.]

Sancho scarce ended his speech, when the silver Nymph that came next to Merlins Ghost, taking off her thin vaile, shee discovered her face, which seemed unto all to bee extraordinary fair, and with a manly grace and voyce not very amiable, directing her speech to Sancho, shee said, Oh thou unhappie Squire, Soul of Lead, and Heart of Cork, and Entrails of Flint, if thou hadest been bidden, thou face-flaying Theef, to cast thy self from a high Towre down to the ground; if thou hadst been wisht, enemie of man∣kinde, to eat a dozen of Toads, two of Lizards, and three of Snakes; if thou hadest been perswaded to kill thy Wife and Children with some Truculent and sharp Sci∣miter; no marvell though thou shouldest shew thy self nice and squeamish: but to make adoe for three thousand and three hundred lashes (since the poorest school-Boy that is, hath them every moneth) admires, astonishes, and affrights all the pittifull En∣trails of the Auditors, and of all them that in processe of time shall come to hear of it: Put, oh miserable and flinty brest; put, I say, thy skittish Moyles eyes upon the balls of mine, compared to shining starrs, and thou shalt see them weep drop after drop, making surrows, careers, and paths, upon the fair fields of my cheeks. Let it move thee knavish and untoward Monster, that my flourishing age (which is yet but in it's ten, and some yeers; for I am nineteen, and not yet twenty) doth consume and wither under the Bark of a rustick labourer: and if now I seem not so to thee, 'tis a par∣ticular favour that Signior Merlin hath done me, who is here present, only that my beauty may make thee relent; for the tears of an afflicted fairnesse turn Rocks into Cotten, and Tygers into Lambs. Lash, lash that thick flesh of thine, untamed beast, and rowze up thy courage from sloth, which makes thee only fit to eat till thou burst, and set my smooth flesh at liberty, the gentlenesse of my condition, and the beauty of my face; and if for my sake thou wilt not bee mollified, and reduc't to some reasona∣ble terms, yet doe it for that poor Knight that is by thee; for thy Master (I say) whose soul I see is traversed in his throat, not ten fingers from his lips, expecting nothing but thy rigid or soft answer, either to come out of his mouth or to ••u••n back to his stomack.

Don-Quixote hearing this, felt to his throat, and turning to the Duke, said; Before God Sir, Dulcinea hath said true; for my soul indeed is traversed in my throat like the nock of a Cross-bow. What say you to this Sancho, quoth the Duchesse? I say what I have said (quoth Sancho) that the lashes I bernounce. Renounce thou wouldst say Sancho, said the Duke. Let your Greatnesse pardon me (said Sancho) I am not now to look into subtilties, nor your letters too many or too few; for these lashe•• that I must have doe so trouble me, that I know not what to doe or say: But I would fain know of my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, where shee learne this kinde of begging she hath: shee comes to desire me to teare my flesh with lashes and calls me Leaden Soul, and Untamed Beast, with a Catalogue of ill names, that the Devill would not suffer. Does shee think my flesh is made of brasse? Or will her disinchan••ment bee worth any thing to me or no? What basket of white linnen, of Shirts, Caps, or socks (though I weare none) doth shee bring with her, to soften me with? only some kinde of rayling or other, knowing the usuall Proverb i••, An Asse laden with gold will goe lightly up hill•• and that Gifts doe enter stone walls; and serve God and work ba••d; and better a Bird in the hand then two in the bush. And my Master too, that should animate me to this task, and comfort me, to make mee become as soft as wooll, hee saies, that hee will ••ye me naked to a tree and dou••le the number of my lashes; and therefore these compassi∣onate Gentles should consider, that they doe not only wish a Squire to whip himself, but a Governour also, as if it were no more but drink to your 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Le••um learn, let um learn with a pox, to know how to ask and to demand; for all times are not alike; and men are not alwaies in a good humour••: I am new ready to burst with grief, to see my torn Coat, and now you come to bid me whip my self willingly, I being as farre from it as to turn Cacicke [Caciques are great Lords amongst the West In∣dians.

By my faith Sancho (quoth the Duke) if you doe not make your selfe as soft as a ripe fig, you finger not the Government. 'Twere good indeede, that I should send a cruell flinty-hearted Governour amongst my Islanders, that will not bend to the teares of afflicted Damzells, nor to the intreaties, of discreet, imperious, ancient, wise Enchanters. To conclude, Sancho, either you must whip your selfe, or bee whipt, or not bee Governour.

Sir (quoth Sancho) may I not have two dayes respite to consider? No, by no meanes, quoth Merlin, now at this instant, and in this place this businesse must bee dispatcht, or Dulcinea shall returne to Montesino's Cave, and to her pristine being of a Country-wench, or as shee is, shee shall bee carried to the Elyzian fields, there to ex∣pect till the number of these lashes bee fulfilled. Goe to, honest Sancho, said the Du∣chesse, bee of good cheere, shew your love for your Masters bread that you have eaten to whom all of us are indebted for his pleasing condition, and his high Chivalry. Say I, sonne, to this whipping-cheere, and hang the Devill, and let feare goe whistle, a good heart conquers ill fortune, as well thou knowest.

To this, Sancho yeelded these foolish speeches, speaking to Merlin: Tell mee, Sig∣nior Merlin, said hee, when the Devill-Post passed by here, and delivered ••••is message to my Master from Signior Monte••inos, bidd••ng him from him hee should expect him here, because hee came to give order, that my Lady Duloinea should b•••• dis∣enchanted, where is hee, that hitherto wee have neither seene Montesinos, or any such thing?

To which, said Merlin, Friend Sancho; The Devill is an Asse, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I sent him in quest of your Master: but not with any message from Mentesinos, but from mee, for hee is still in his Cave, plotting, or to say truer, expecting his dis∣enchanment, for yet he want•• something toward it; and if he owe thee ought, or thou have any thing to doe with bi••, I'le b••ing him thee, and set him where thou wilt •• and therefore now make an end, and yeeld to this disciplining, and beleeve thee it will doe thee much good, as well for thy minde as for thy body: for thy minde, touching the charity thou sha•• performe; for thy body, for I know thou ar•• of asan∣guine complextion, and it can doe thee no hurt to let out some blood.

What a company of Physicians there bee in the world, said Sancho? even the ve∣ry Enchanters are Physicians. Well, since every body tells mee so, that it is good (yet I cannot thinke so) I am content to give my selfe three thousand and three hundred la∣shes, on condition that I may hee giving of them as long as I please, and I will bee out of debt as soone as 'tis possible, that the world may enjoy the beauty of the Lady Dulcin•••• del Tobo•••• since it appeares, contrary to what I thought, that shee is faire. On condition likewise that I may not dra•• blood with the whip, and if any lash goe by too, it shall passe for current: Item that Signior Merlin, if I forget any part of the number (since hee knowes all) shall have a care to tell them, and to let mee know how many I want, or if I exceed. For your exceeding, quoth M••rlin, there needs no telling, for comming to your just number, Forthwith Dulcinea shall bee dis-enchan∣ted, and shall come in all thickfulnesse to se••ke Sancho, to gratifie and reward him for the good deed. So you need not bee scrupnious, eyther of your excesse or defect, and God forbid I should deceive any body in so much as a ha•••••••• breadth.

Well (quo•••• Sancho) a Gods name bed it, I yeeld to my ill fortune, and with the aforesaid condition accept of the penitence.

Scarce had Sancho spoken these words, when the Waites began to play, and a world of guns were shot off, and Don-Quixote hung about Sancho's necke, kissing his cheekes and forehead a thousand times. The Duke, the Duchesse, and all the by-standers, were wonderfully delighted, and the Cart began to goe on, and passing by, the faire Dulcinea inclined her head to the Dukes, and made a low courtsie to Sancho, and by this the merry morn came on apace, and the flowers of the field began to bloome and rise up, and liquid Cristall of the brookes; murmuring thorow the gray pebbles, went to give tribute to the Rivers, that expected them, the sky was cleere, and the ayre whole∣some, the light perspicuous, each by it selfe, and all together shewed manifestly, that

the day, whose skirts Aurora came trampling on, should bee bright and cleer.

And the Dukes being satisfied with the Chase, and to have obtained their purpose so discre••tly and happily, they returned to their Castle, with an intention to second their jest; for to them there was no earnest could give more content.

CHAP. XXXVI.

Of the strange and unimagined Adventure of the afflicted Matron, alias, the Countesse Trifaldi, with a Letter that Sancho Pança wrote to his Wife Teresa Pança.

THe Duke had a Steward of a very pleasant & conceited wit, who played Merlins part, and contrived the whole Furniture for the passed Adventure; hee it was that made the Verses, and that a Page should act Dulcinea. Finally, by his Lords leave; hee plotted another peece of work, the pleasantest and strangest that may bee imagined.

The Duchesse asked Sancho the next day, if hee had yet begun his Task of the Penance, for the disinchanting of Dulcinea: hee told her yes; and that as that night hee had given himself five lashes. The Duchesse asked him, with what? Hee answered with his hand. Those (quoth the Duchesse) are rather claps then lashes: I am of opinion, that the sage Merlin will not accept of this soft∣nesse; 'twere fitter that Sancho took the discipline of Rowels or Bullets with Prickles that may smart; for the businesse will bee effected with blood; and the liberty of so great a Lady will not bee wrought so slightly, or with so small a price: and know Sancho, that works of charity are not to bee done so slow and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, for they will merit nothing.

To which Sancho replyed, Give me Madam, a convenient lash of some bough, and I will lash my self that it may not smart too much; for let me tell your Worship this, That though I am a Clown, yet my flesh is rather Cotten then Mattresse; and there's no reason I should kill my self for anothers good. You say well (quoth the Duchesse) to morrow I'le give you a whip that shall fit you, and agree with the tendernesse of your flesh, as if it were a kinn to them. To which (quoth Sancho) Lady of my soul, I beseech you know, that I have written a Letter to my Wife Teresa Panca, letting her know all that hath hapned to (me, since I parted from her; here I have it in my bosome, and it wants nothing but the superscripti∣on: I would your discretion would read it; for me thinks it goes fit for a Governour, I mean, in the stile that Governours should write. And who penned it, said the Duchesse? Who should, said hee, Sinner that I am; but I my self? And did you write it (quoth shee?) Nothing lesse (said hee;) for I can neither write nor read, though I can set to my firm. Let's see your Letter (quoth the Duchesse) for I warrant thou shewest the ability and sufficiency of thy wit in it. Sancho drew the Let∣ter open out of his bosome; and the Duchesse taking it of him, read the Contents, as followeth.

Sancho Panca's Letter to his VVife Teresa Panca.

IF I were well lashed, I got well by it: If I got a Government, it cost me many a good lash. This, my Teresa, at present thou under∣standest

not, hereafter thou shalt know it. Know now Teresa, that I am determined thou goe in thy Coach; for all other kinde of going, is to goe upon all foure. Thou art now a Governours Wife; let's see if any body will gnaw thy stumps. I have sent thee a green Hunters suite, that my Lady the Duchesse gave me; fit it so, that it may serve our Daughter for a Coat and Bodies. My Master Don-Quixote, as I have heard say in this Country, is a Mad Wise-man, and a conceited Coxcombe; and that I am ne're a whit behind him. We have been in Montesinos Cave: & the sage Merlin hath laid hands on me for the dis-enchanting my La∣dy Dulcinea del Toboso, whom you there call Aldonsa Lorenzo, with three thousand and three hundred lashes lacking five, that I give my self, shee shall bee dis-enchanted as the Mother that brought her forth: but let no body know this; for put it thou to discant on, some will cry white, others black. Within this little while I will goe to my Govern∣ment, whither I goe with a great desire to make money; for I have beene tolde, that all your Governours at first goe with the same desire. I will look into it, and send thee word whether it bee fit for thee to come to me or no. Dapple is well, and commends him heartily to thee; and I will not leave him, although I were to goe to bee Great Turk. My Lady the Duchesse kisses thy hands a thousand times: Return her two thousand; for ther's nothing costs lesse, nor is better cheap, as my Master tells me, then complement. God Almighty hath not yet been pleased to blesse me with a Cloke-bag, and another hundred Pistolets, as those you wot of: But bee not grieved, my Teresa, there's no hurt done; all shall bee re∣compenced when wee lay the Government a bucking: only one thing troubles mee; for they tell me, that after my time is expired, I may dye for hunger; which if it should bee true, I have paid deer for it, though your lame and maimed men get their living by Begging and Almes: so that one way or other thou shalt bee rich and happy: God make thee so, and keep me to serve thee. From this Castle the twentieth of July, 1614.

The Governour thy Husband, Sancho Pança.

When the Duchesse had made an end of reading the Letter, shee said to Sancho; in two things the good Governor is out of the way: the one in saying or publishing, that this Government hath beene give him for the lashes he must give himselfe, hee know∣ing, for hee cannot deny it, that when my Lord the Duke promised it him, there was no dreaming in the world of lashes: The other is, that he shewes himselfe in it very

covetous, and I would not have it so prejudiciall to him; for Covetousness is the Root of all evill, and the covetous Governor does ungoverned Justice. I had no such mea∣ning, Madam (quoth Sancho) and if your worship thinke the Letter bee not written as it should bee, let it be torne and weele have a new; and perhaps it may bee worse, if it be left to my noddle. No, no, (quoth the Duchesse) 'tis well enough, and Ile have the Duke see it. So they went to a Garden where they were to dine that day; the Du∣chesse shewed Sanchoes Letter to the Duke, which gave him great content. They dined and when the cloth was taken away, and that they had entertained themse••ves a pretty while with Sanchoes savory conversation; upon a sodaine they heard a dolefull sound of a Flute, and of a hoarce and untuned Drum; all of them were in some amazement at this confused, martiall, and sad harmony, especially Don-Quixote, who was so trou∣bled he could not sit still in his seat; for Sancho there is no more to be said, but that feare carried him to his accustomed refuge, which was the Duchesses side or her lap; for in good earnest, the sound they heard was most sad and melancholy. And all of them being in this maze, they might see two men come in before them into the Garden, clad in mourning weedes, so long that they dragged on the ground, these came beating of two Drums, covered likewise with black, with them came the Fife, black and besmeared as well as the rest. After these there followed a personage of a Gyantly body, bemant∣led, and not clad in a cole-black Cassock, whose skyrt was extraordinary long, his Cas∣sock likewise was gyrt with a broad black Belt, at which there hung an unmeasurable Scimitar, with hilts and scabard; upon his face he wore a transparent black Vaile, tho∣row which they might see a huge long beard, as white as snow His pace was very grave and stayed, according to the sound of the Drum and Fife. To conclude, his hugeness, his motion, his blackness, and his consorts, might have held all that knew him not, and loo∣ked on him, in suspence.

Thus hee came with the state and Prosopopeia aforesaid, and kneeled before the Duke, who with the rest that stood up there, awaited his comming: but the Duke would not by any meanes heare him speake till hee rose, which the prodigious Scar-crow did; and standing up, hee pluckt his maske from off his face, and shewed the most hor∣rid, long, white, and thicke beard, that ere till then humane eyes beheld; and straight hee let loose and roared out from his broad and spreading brest, a majesticall loud voyce, and casting his eyes toward the Duke, thus said:

High and mighty Sir, I am called Trifaldin with the white beard, Squire to the Countesse Trifaldi, otherwise called The Afflicted Ma••ron, from whom I bring an Ambassage to your Greatnesse, which is, that your Magnificence bee pleased to give her leave, and licence to enter and relate her griefes, which are the most strange and admirable that ever troubled thoughts in the world could thinke: but first of all, she would know whether the valorous and invincible Knight Don-Quixote de la Man∣cha bee in your Castle, in whose search shee comes afoot, and hungry from the King∣dome of Candaya, even to this your Dukedome: a thing miraculous, or by way of Enchantment: she is at your Fortresse gate, and onely expects your permission to come in; thus hee spoke, and forthwith coughed and wiped his Beard from the top to the bottome, with both his hands, and with a long pawse attended the Dukes An∣swere, which was;

Honest Squire Trifaldin with the white Beard, long, since the misfortune of the Countesse Trifaldi hath come to our notice, whom Enchanters have caused to be stiled. The afflicted Matron: tell her, stupendious Squire, shee may come in, and that here is the valiant Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha, from whose generous condition shee may safely promise her selfe all aid and assistance: and you may also tell her from mee, that if shee neede my favour, shee shall not want it; since I am oblieged to it by being a Knight, to whom the favouring of all sorts of her sexe is pertained and annexed, espe∣cially Matron widowes ruin'd and afflicted, as her Ladyship is. Which when Trifaldin heard, he bent his knee to the ground, and making signes to the Drum and Flfe, that they should play to the same pace and sound as when they entred, he returned back out of the Garden, and left all in admiration of his presence and posture.

And the Duke turning to Don-Quixote, said; In fine Sir Knight, neither the clouds of malice or ignorance can darken or obscure the light of valour and virtue. This I say, because it is scarce six dayes since that your bounty [A forced word put in, in mockage purposely] hath been in this my Castle, when the sad and afflicted come from remote parts on foot, and not in Carroches and on Dromedaries, to seek you, confident that in this most strenuous arme they shall finde the remedy for their griefs and labours, thanks bee to your brave exploits, that runne over and compasse the whole world.

Now would I, my Lord (quoth Don-Quixote) that that same blessed Clergy-man were present, who the other day at Table, seemed to bee so distasted, and to bear such a grudge against Knights Errant, that hee might see with his eyes, whether those Knights are necessary to the world; hee might feel too with his hands that your extraordinary afflicted and comfortlesse and great affairs, and enormious mishaps goe not to seek re∣dresse to Book-mens houses, or to some poor Country Sextons, not to your Gentle∣man that never stirred from home, nor to the lazie Courtier that rather hearkens after news which hee may report again, then procures to perform deeds and exploixts, that others may relate and write; the redresse of griefs; the succouring of necessities; the protection of Damzells; the comfort of Widdows, is had from no sort of persons so well as from Knights Errant; and that I am one, I give heaven infinite thanks, and I think my disgrace well earned, that I may receive in this noble calling. Let this Matron come and demand what shee will; for I will give her redresse with this my strong Arme and undaunted resolution of my couragious Spirit.

CHAP. XXXVII.

Of the prosecution of the famous Adventure of the Afflicted Matron.

THe Duke and Duchesse were extreamly glad to see how well Don-Quixote satisfied their intentions: And then Sancho said, I should bee loth this Mistris Matron should lay any stumbling block in the promise of my Government; for I have heard a To∣ledo Apothecary say (and hee spoke like a Bull-fin••h) that where these kinde of women were intermedling, there could no good follow: [Duennas: Here Sancho takes Duenna in the former sence, for an old Waiting-woman.] Lord, what an enemy that Apothecary was to them! for since all your Matrons, of what condition or quality so∣ever they bee, are irksome and foolish; what kinde of ones shall your afflicted bee? as this Countesse* Three skirts, or Three tailes; for tails and skirts, all is one: [* Allu∣ding to the name Trifaldi, as if shee had been called tres faldes, which fignifies three skirts; and this was his mistake.]

Peace, friend Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote; for since this Matron-Lady comes from so remote parts to seek me, shee is none of those that the Apothecary hath in his bed-roll: Besides, this is a Countesse; and when your Countesses are Waiting-women, 'tis either to Queens or Empresses, who in their houses are most absolute, and are served by other Wayting-women. To this, quoth Donna Rod••iguez, that was present, My Lady the Duchesse hath women in her service that might have beene Coun∣tesses, if Fortune had been pleased: but the weakest goe to the walls, and let no man speak ill of Waiting-women, and especially of ancient Maids; for although I am none, yet I well and cleerly perceive the advantage, that your Mayden Wayting-women have over Widdow-women, and one pair of sheers went between us both.

For all that (quoth Sancho) there is so much to bee sheered in your Waiting-women

(according to mine Apothecary) that, The more you stirre this businesse, the more it will stink. Alwayes these Squires (quoth Donna Rodriguez) are malicious against us; for, as they are Faries that haunt the out-rooms, and every foot spy us, the times that they are not at their devotions (which are many) they spend in back-biting us, undig∣ging our bones, and burying our reputation. Well, let me tell these mooving Blocks that in spite of them, wee will live in the world and in houses of good fashion, though wee starve for it, or cover our delicate or not delicate flesh with a black Monks weed, as if wee were old walls covered with Tapistry, at the passing of a Procession. I'faith if I had time and leisure enough, I would make all that are present know, that there is no virtue, but is contained in a Waiting-woman. I beleeve (said the Duchesse) my honest Donna Rodriguez is in the right; but shee must stay for a fit time to answer for her self and the rest of Waiting-women, to confound the Apothecaries ill opinion, and to root it out altogether from Sancho's brest. To which (quoth Sancho) since the Go∣vernourship smoaks in my head, all Squirely sumes are gone out, and I care not a wilde∣fig for all your Waiting-women.

Forward they had gone with this Wayting-woman discourse, had they not heard the Drum and Fife play, whereby they knew that the afflicted Matron was entring: the Duchesse askt the Duke if they should meet her, since shee was a Countesse and no∣ble personage. For her Counteship (quoth Sancho, before the Duke could answer) I like it that your Greatnesse meet her: but for her Matronship, that yee stirre not a foot. Who bids thee meddle with that Sancho, quoth Don Quixote? Who Sir (said hee?) I my self, that may meddle, that, as a Squire, have learnt the terms of courtesie in your Worships Schoole, that is the most courteous and best bred Knight in all Court∣ship; and as I have heard you say in these things, Better play a card too much then too little; and good wits will soon meet. 'Tis true as Sancho sayes (quoth the Duke) wee will see what kinde of Countesse shee is, and by that ghesse what courtesie is due to her. By this the Drum and Fife came in, as formerly: And here the Author ended this brief Chapter, beginning another, which continues the same Adventure, one of the notablest of all the History.

CHAP. XXXVIII.

The Afflicted Matron recounts her ill-Errantry.

A After the Musick there entred in at the Garden, about some twelve Matron-wayters, divided into two ranks, all clad in large Monks weeds, to see to, of fulled Serge, with white Stoles of thin Callico, so long that they only shewed the edge of their black weeds. After them came the Countesse Trifaldi, whom Trifaldin with the white beard led by the hand, clad all in finest unnapped Bayes; for had it been napped, every grain of it would have been as big as your biggest pease: Her taile or her train (call it whether you will) had three corners, which was borne by three Pages, clad likewise in mourning: Thus making a sightly and Mathematicall shew with those three sharp corners, which the poynted skirt made, for which belike shee was called the Countesse Trifaldi [the word in Spanish importing so] as if wee should say the Countesse of the three trains; and Benengeli sayes it was true, and that her right name was the Countesse Lobuna, because there were many Wolves bred in her Country; and if they had been Foxes, as they were Wolves, they would have called her the Countesse Zorruna, [Zorra in Spanish, a Fox] by reason that in those parts it was the custome that great ones took their appellations from the thing or things that did most abound in their States: but this Countesse taken

with the strangenesse of the three-fold train, left her name of Lobuna, and took that of Trifaldi.

The twelve Wayters and their Lady came a procession pace, their faces covered with black vailes, and not transparent, was as Trifaldins, but ••o close that nothing was seen thorow. Just as the Matronly Squadron came in; the Duke, the Duchesse, and Don-Quixote stood up, and all that beheld the large Procession. The twelve made a stand and a Lane, thorow the middest of which the afflicted came forward, Trifaldin still leading her by the hand, which the Duke, the Duchesse, and Don-Quixote seeing, they advanced some dozen paces to meet her. Shee kneeling on the ground, with a voyce rather course and hoarce, then fine and cleer, said, May it please your Greatnesses to spare this courtesie to your servant; I say, to mee your servant; for as I am The Affli∣cted, I shall not answer you as I ought, by reason that my strange and unheard of mis∣fortune hath transported my understanding I know not wither, and sure 'tis farre off, since the more I seek it, the lesse I finde it. Hee should want it Lady (quoth the Duke) that by your person could not judge of your worth, the which without any more look∣ing into, deserves the Cream of Courtesie, and the flower of all mannerly Ceremonies: So taking her up by the hand, hee led her to sit down in a chair by the Duchesse, who welcommed her also with much courtesie.

Don-Quixote was silent, and Sancho longed to see the Trifaldi's face, and some of her waiting-women: but there was no possibilitie, till they of their own accords would shew them; so all being quiet and still, they expected who should first breake silence, which was done by the afflicted Matron, with these words. Confident I am (most powerfull Sir, most beautifull Lady, and most discreete Auditors) that my most mi∣serablenesse [A fustian Speech on purpose and so continued.] shall finde in your most valorous Brests shelter, no lesse pleasing then generous and compassionate; for it is such as is able to make marble relent, to soften the Diamonds, and to mollifie the steele of the hardest hearts in the world; but before it come into the market-place of your hearing (I will not say your eares) I should be glad to know, if the most Purifiediferous Don-Quixote of the Manchissima, and his Squiriferous Panca, be in this Lap, this Quire, this Company.

Panca is here (quoth Sancho) before any body else could answere, and Don-Qui∣xotissimo too, therefore most Afflictedissimous Matronissima, speake what you willissi∣mus [Sancho strives to answere in the same key] for we are all ready and most forward to be your Servitorissimus. Then Don-Quixote rose up, and directed his speech to the Afflicted Matron and said; If your troubles, straightned Lady, may promise you any hope of remedy, by the valour and force of any Knight Errant; Behold, here are my poor and weake armes, that shall bee imployed in your service. I am Don-Quixote de la Mancha, whose Function is to succour the needy, which being so (as it is) you need not, Lady, to use any Rhetorick, or to seek any Preambles; but plainly and without circumstances, tell your griefs; for they shall bee heard by those, that if they cannot re∣dresse them, yet they will commiserate them.

Which when the afflicted Matron heard, shee seem'd to fall at Don-Quixotes feet, and cast her self down, striving to embrace them, and said; Before these feet and leggs I cast my self, oh invincible Knight; since they are the Basis and Columnes of Knight Errantry, these feet will I kisse, on whose steps the whole remedy of my misfortunes doth hang and depend. Oh valorous Errant! whose valorous exploits doe obscure and darken the fabulous ones of the Amadises, Esplandiasus, and Belianises: And leaving Don-Quixote, shee laid hold on Sancho Panca, and griping his hands, said; Oh thou the loyallest Squire that ever served Knight Errant, in past of present times! lon∣ger in goodnesse then my Usher Trifaldins beard; well mayest thou vaunt, that in ser∣ving Don-Quixote, thou servest, in Cipher, the whole Troop of Knights that have worn Armes in the world: I conjure thee, by thy most loyall goodnesse, that thou be a good Intercessor with thy Master, that hee may eftsoons favour this most humble most un∣fortunate Countesse.

To which (said Sancho) that my goodnesse, Lady, bee as long as your Squires beard,

I doe not much stand upon; the businesse is, Bearded or with Mustacho's, let me have my soul goe to Heaven when I die: for, for beards here I care little or nothing: but without these clawings or intreaties, I will desire my Master (for I know hee loves me well, and the rather, because now in a certain businesse hee hath need of me) that hee favour and help your Worship as much as hee may: but pray uncage your griefs, and tell them us, and let us alone to understand them.

The Dukes were ready to burst with laughter, as they that had taken the pulse of this Adventure, and commended within themselves the wit and dissimulation of the Trifaldi, who sitting her down, said; Of the famous Kingdome of Taprobana, which is between the great Taprobana and the South sea, some two leagues beyond Cape Co∣morin, was Queen the Lady Donna Maguncia, widdow to King Archipielo, her Lord and Husband, in which matrimony they had the Princesse Antonomasia, Heire to the Kingdome: The said Princesse was brought up, and increased under my Tutorage and instruction, because I was the ancientest and chiefest Matron that waited on her Mo∣ther. It fell out then, that times comming and going, the Childe Antonomasia being about fourteen yeers of age, shee was so fair that Nature could give no further addition. Discretion it self was a Snotty-nose to her, that was as discreet as fair, and shee was the fairest in the world, and is, if envious Fates and inflexible Destinies have not cut the threed of her life: but sure they have not; for Heaven will not permit, that Earth suffer such a losse, as would bee the lopping of a branch of the fairest Vine in the world.

On this beauty (never-sufficiently extolled by my rude tongue) a number of Princes were enamoured, as well Neighbours as strangers, amongst whom, a private Gentle∣man durst raise his thoughts to the Heaven of that beauty, one that lived in Court, confident in his youth and gallantry, and other abilities, and happy facilities of wit; for let mee give your Greatnesses to understand (if it bee not tedious) hee played on a Gitterne, as if hee made it speake, hee was a Poet, and a great Dancer, and could very well make Bird-cages, and onely with this Art, might have gotten his living, when he had been in great necessity: so that all these parts and adornments were able to throw downe a mountaine, much more a delicate Damzell: but all his gentry, all his graces, all his behaviour and abilities, could have little prevailed, to render my childes fortresse, if the cursed theefe had not conquered mee first. First, the cursed Rascall Vagamund sought to get my good will, and to bribe mee, that I, ill keeper, should deliver him the keyes of my fortresse.

To conclude, hee inveigled my understanding, and obtained my consent, with some toyes and trifles (I know not what) that hee gave mee: but that which most did prostrate mee, and made mee fall, was certaine verses, that I heard him sing one night from a grated Window, toward a Lane where hee lay, which were as I remember these.

An ill upon my soule doth steale, From my sweetest enemy: And it more tormenteth mee That I feele, yet must conceale.

The Ditty was most precious to mee, and his voyce as sweet as sugar, and many a time since have I thought, seeing the mis-hap I fell into, by these and such other like verses, and have considered, that Poets should bee banisht from all good and well-governed Common-wealths, as Plato counselled, at least lascivious Poets; for they write lascivious verses, not such as those of the Marquesse of Mantua, [Old Ballad verses, the Author speakes here Satyrically,] that delight and make women and children weepe, but piercing ones, that like sharpe thornes, but soft, traverse the soule, and wound it like lightning, leaving the garment sound; and againe he sung.

Come death, hidden, without paine, (Let me not thy comming know)

That the pleasure to die so, Make me not to live againe.

Other kindes of songs hee had, which being sung, enchanted, and written, suspend∣ed: for when they daigned to make a kinde of verse in Candaya, then in use, called Roundelaies, there was your dancing of soules, and tickling with laughter and unquiet∣nesse of the body: and finally, the quicksilver of all the sences. So, my Masters, let mee say, that such Rithmers ought justly to bee banished to the Island of Lizards: but the fault is none of theirs, but of simple creatures that commend them, and foolish wen∣ches that beleeve in them: and if I had been as good a Waiting-woman, as I ought to have beene, his over-nights conceits would not have moved mee, neither should I have given credit to these kinde of speeches: I live dying, I burne in the frost, I shake in the fire, I hope hopelesse, I goe, and yet I stay: with other impossibilities of this seumme, of which his writings are full: and then, your promising the Phoenix of Arabia, Ariadne's, Crowne, the Lockes of the Sunne, the Pearles of the South, the Gold of Tyber, and Balsamum of Pancaia: and here they are most liberall in promising that, which they never think to performe.

But whither, aye mee unhappy, doe I divert my selfe? What folly or what mad∣nesse makes mee recount other folkes faults, having so much to say of mine owne? Aye mee againe, unfortunate, For not the verses, but my folly, vanquished mee; not his musicke, but my lightnesse, my ignorance softned mee; that, and my ill fore sight ope∣ned the way, and made plaine the path to Don Clanixo, for this is the aforesaid Gen∣tle-mans name; so that I being the Bawde, hee was many times in the chamber of the (not by him, but mee) betrayed Antonomasia, under colour of being her lawfull Spouse; for though a sinner I am, I would not have confented, that without being her Husband, hee should have come to the bottome of her shoo-sole.

No, no, Matrimony must ever bee the colour in all these businesses, that shall bee treated of by mee: onely there was one mischiefe in it, that Don Clanixo was not her Equall, hee being but a private Gentle-man, and shee such an Inheritrix. A while this juggling was hid and concealed, with the sagacity of my warinesse, till a kinde of swelling in Antonomasia's belly, at last discovered it, the feare of which made us all three enter into counsell, and it was agreed, that before the mis-hap should come to light, Don Clanixo should demand Antonomasia for wife before the Vicar, by vertue of a bill of her hand, which shee had given him to bee so: this was framed by my inventi∣on so forcibly, that Samson himselfe was not able to break it.

The matter was put in practice, the Vicar saw the bill, and tooke the Ladies con∣fession: who confessed plainely, hee committed her prisoner to a Sargeants house. Then (quoth Sancho) have you Sargeants too in Candaya, Poets, and Roundelayes? I sweare I thinke, the world is the same every-where: but make an end, Madam Tri∣faldi: for it is late, and I long to know the end of this large story. I will, answered the Countesse.

CHAP. XXXIX.

Where the Trifaldi prosecutes her stupendious and memorable Hi∣storie.

AT every word that Sancho spoke, the Duchesse was as well pleased as Don-Quixote out of his wits: And commanding him to bee silent, the Afflicted went on, saying; The short and the long was this, after many givings and takings, by reason the Princesse stood ever stifly to her tackling, the Vicar sentenced in Don Clanixo's fa∣vour, whereat the Queen Donna Maguncia Antonomasia's Mother was so full of wrath that some three dayes after wee buried her. Well, Sir Squire (quoth Sancho) it hath been seen e're now, that one that hath been but in a swound, hath been buried, thinking he was dead; & me thinks that Queen Maguncia might but rather have been in a swound, for with life many things are remedied; and the Princesses error was not so great, that shee should so re∣sent it. If shee had married with a Page or any other Servant of her house (as I have heard many have done) the mischance had been irreparable: but to marrie with so worthy a Gentleman, and so understanding as hath been painted out to us, truly, truly, though 'twere an over-sight, yet 'twas not so great as wee think for; for accor∣ding to my Masters rules, here present, who will not let me lye, as Schollers become Bishops, so private Knights (especially if they bee Errant) may become Kings and Em∣perours.

Thou hast reason Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote:) for a Knight Errant, give him but two inches of good fortune, hee is in potentia proxima to bee the greatest Soveraign of the World. But let the Afflicted proceed; for to mee it appears, the bitterest part of her sweet History is behinde. The bitterest, quoth you, said she? Indeed so bitter, that in comparison of this, Treacle and Elicampane is sweet.

The Queen being starke dead, and not in a trance, wee buried her, and scarce had wee covered her with earth, and took our ultimum vale, when Quis talia fando tempe∣ret a lachrimis? the Gyant Malambruno, Maguncia's Cousin Germane, appeared before her Grave upon a wooden Horse, who besides his cruelty was also an Enchanter, who with his Art to revenge his Cousins death, and for Don Clanixo's boldnesse, and for despight of Antonomasia's oversight, enchanted them upon the same Tombe, turn∣ing her into a Brazen Ape, and him into a fearfull Crocodile of unknown metall, and betwixt them both is likewise set a Register of metall, written in the Siriack tongue, which being translated into the Candayan, and now into the Castilian, contains this sentence:

These two bold Lovers shall not recover their naturall form, till the valiant Manchegan come to single ••ombat with me; for the Destinies reserve this unheard of Adventure only for his great valour.

This done hee unsheathed a broad and unwieldly Scimiter, and taking me by the haire of the head, hee made as if hee would have cut my throat, or sheared off my neck at a blow. I was amazed, my voice cleaved to the roof of my mouth; I was troubled ex∣treamly: but I enforced my self as well as I could, and with a dolorous and trembling voyce, I told him such and so many things, as made him suspend the execution of his rigorous punishment.

Finally, hee made all the waiting-women of the Court bee brought before him, which are here present now also, and after hee had exaggerated our faults, and reviled

the conditions of waiting•• women, their wicked wyles, and worse sleights, and laying my fault upon them all, hee said he would not capitally punish us, but with other dila∣ted paines, that might give us a civil and continuate death: and in the very same in∣stant and moment that hee had said this, wee all felt that the Pores of our faces opened, and that all about them wee had prickles, like the pricking of needles; by and by wee clapped our hands to our faces, and found them just as you see them now; with this the Afflicted, and the rest of the waiting-women lifted up their masks which they had on, and shewed their faces all with Beards, some red, some black, some white, and lime smeared; at sight of which the Duke and Duchesse admired; Don-Quixote and Sancho were astonish't, and all the by-standers wonder-strucken, and the Trifaldi proceeded: Thus that Fellon and hard-hearted Malambruno punished us, covering the soft∣nesse and smoothenesse of our Faces with these rough Bristles: Would God hee had beheaded us with his unwildy Scemiter, and not so dimmed the light of our Fa∣ces with these blots that hide us; for, my Masters if wee fall into reckoning, (and that which now I say, I would spake it with mine eyes running a Fountaine of Teares, but the consideration of our misfortunes, and the Seas that hitherto have rayned, have drawne them as dry as eares of Corne, and therefore let mee speake without Teares.) Whither shall a waiting-woman with a Beard goe? What Father or Mo∣ther will take compassion on her? For when her flesh is at the smoothest, and her Face Martyrized with a thousand sorts of slibber-slabbers and Waters, shee can scarce finde any body that will care for her; What shall shee doe then when shee weares a wood upon her face? O Matrons, Companions mine, in an ill time were wee borne, in a lucklesse houre our Fathers begat us: And saying this, shee made shew of dismaying.

CHAP. XL.

Of matters that touch and pertaine to this Adventure, and most memorable Historie.

CERTAINLY, all they that delight in such Histories as this, must bee thankfull to Cid Hamete the Author of the Original, for his curiositie in setting downe every little tittle, without lea∣ving out the smallest matter that hath not been distinctly brought to ••light; hee paints out conceits, discovers imaginations, an∣sweres secrets, cleeres doubts, resolves arguments: To conclude manifests the least moate of each curious desire. Oh famous Au∣thor! Oh happy Don-Quixote! Oh renowned Dulcinea! Oh pleasant Sancho! all together, and each in particular, long may you live, to the delight and generall recreation of mortalls. The Storie then goes on, that just as Sancho saw the Afflicted dismay'd, he said, As I am honest man, and by the memorie of the Pancaes, I never heard nor saw, nor my Master never told me, nor could he ever conceit in his fancy such an Adventure as this. A thousand Satans take thee (not to curse thee) for an Enchanter as thou art, Gyant Malambruno, and hadst thou no kinde of punish∣ment for these sinners but this bearding them? What, had it not beene better and fit∣ter for them, to have bereaved them of halfe their Noses, though they had snuffled for it, and not to have clapt these Beards on them? I hold a wager they have no money to pay for their shaving. You say true Sir, quoth one of the twelve, wee have nothing to cleanse us with, therefore some of us have used a remedy of sticking Plaisters, which, applyed to our faces, and clapped on upon a suddaine, make them as plaine and smooth

as the bottome of a stone Morter; for though in Candaya there be women that goe up and down from house to house to take away the haire of the body, and to trim the eye-brows, and other slibber-sawces touching women, yet wee my Ladies wo∣men would never admit them, because they smell something of the Bawde: and if Signior Don-Quixote doe not help us, wee are like to goe with beards to our graves.

I would rather lose mine amongst Infidels (quoth Don-Quixote) then not ease you of yours. By this the Trifaldi came to her self again, and said, the very jyngling of this promise came into my eares in the midest of my Trance, and was enough to recover my sences: therefore once again renowned Errant and untamed Sir, let mee be∣seech you that your graciouspromise bee put in execution. For my part it shall (quoth Don-Quixote:) tell me Lady what I am to doe, for my minde is very prompt, and ready to serve you.

Thus it is (quoth the Afflicted) from hence to the Kingdome of Candaya, if you goe by Land, you have five thousand leagues, wanting two or three; but if you goe in the ayre, some three thousand two hundred and seven and twenty by a direct line. You must likewise know, that Malambruno told me, that when Fortune should bring mee to the Knight that must free us, that hee would send a Horse much better, and with fewer tricks then your Hirelings, which is the self-same Horse of wood, on which the valiant Pierres stole and carried away the fair Magalona, which Horse is governed by a pin that hee hath in his forehead, that serves for a bridle, and flies in the aire so swiftly as if the Devills themselves carried him. This Horse, according to Tradition, was made by the sage Merlin, and hee lent him to his friend Pierres, who made long voyages upon him, and stole away, as is said, the faire Magalona, carrying her in the aire at his Crupper, leaving all that beheld them on earth in a staring gaze; and hee lent him to none but those whom hee loved, or that payed him best; and since the Grand Pierres, hitherto wee have not heard that any else hath come upon his back: Malambruno got him from thence by his Art, and keeps him, making use of him in his voyages, which hee hath every foot thorow all parts of the world; and hee is here to day, and to morrow in France, and the next day at Ierusalem: and the best is, that this Horse neither eats nor sleeps, nor needs shooing; and hee ambles in the aire without wings, that hee that rides upon him, may carry a cup full of water in his hand, without spilling a jot: hee goes so soft and so easie, which made the fair Magalona glad to ride upon him.

Then (quoth Sancho) for your soft and easie going, my Dapple bears the bell, though hee goe not in the aire; but upon earth I'le play with him with all the Amblers in the world.

All of them laughed, and the Afflicted went on: And this Horse (if Malambruno will grant an end of our misfortune) within half an hour at night will bee with us; for hee told me, that the signe that I had found the Knight that should procure our liberty, should bee the sending of that Horse, whither hee should come speedily. And how many (quoth Sancho) may ride upon that Horse? The Afflicted answered, Two; one in the Saddle, and the other at the Crupper; and most commonly such two are Knight and Squire, when some stoln Damzell is wanting. I would faine know, Afflicted Ma∣dam (quoth Sancho) what this Horses name is. His name (quoth shee) is not like Bellerophons horse Pegasus, or Alexanders the great Bucephalus, or Orlando Furioso's Briliadoro, or Bayarte Reynaldos de Mantaluans, or Rogeros Frontino, or Bootes, or Perithons, the horses of the Sunne, nor Orelia Rodrigo the last unhappie King of the Goths his Horse, in that Battell where hee lost his life and Kingdome together.

I hold a wager (said Sancho) that since hee hath none of all these famous known names, that his name neither is not Rozinante my Masters horses name, which goes be∣yond all those that have been named already.

'Tis true (quoth the bearded Countesse) notwithstanding hee hath a name that fits him very well, which is Clavileno the swift: [Clavo a naile or wooden pinne; Leno wood in Spanish:] first, because hee is of wood; and then, because of the pinne in his

fore-head: so that for his name, hee may compare with Rozinante. I dislike not his name (said Sancho:) but what bridle, or what halter is hee governed with? I have told (said the Trifaldi) that with the pinne, turned as pleaseth the party that rides on him; hee will goe either in the aire, or raking and sweeping along the earth, or in a meane which ought to be sought in all well-ordered actions. I would faine see him (quoth Sancho) but to thinke that Ile get up on him, eyther in the saddle, or at the crupper, were to aske Peares of the Elme. 'Twere good indeede, that I that can scarce sit upon Dapple, and a pack-saddle as soft as silke, should get up upon a woodden crupper with∣out a Cushion or Pillow-beere: by Gad Ile not bruise my selfe to take away any bo∣dies Beard; let every one shave himselfe as well as hee can, for Ile not goe so long a Voyage with my Master: Besides, there is no use of mee for the shaving of these Beards, as there is for the disinchanting my Lady Dulcinea. Yes mary is there, said the Trifaldi, and so much, that I beleeve, without you we shall doe nothing. God and the King (quoth Sancho) [aqui del Roy; The usuall speech of Officers in Spayne, when a∣ny arested Person resists.] What have the Squires to doe with their Masters Adventures, they must reape the credit of ending them, and wee must beare the burden? Body of mee, if your Historians would say, Such a Knight ended such an Adventure, but with the helpe of such and such a Spuire, without whom it had been impossible to end it, 'twere somthing; but that they write drylie, Don Parlalipomenon, Knight of the three starres, ended the Adventure of the sixe Hob-goblins, without naming his Squires per∣son that was present at all, as if hee were not alive, I like it not my Masters; I tell you againe my Master may goe alone, much good may it doe him, and Ile stay here with my Lady the Duchesse, and it may bee when hee comes back, he shall find the Lady Dulcineaes business three-fold, nay five-fold bettered, for I purpose at idle times and when I am at leisure to give my selfe a Bout of whipping, bare-breeched. For all that (quoth the Duchesse) if need bee you must accompany him, honest Sancho, for all good People will intreat, that for your unnecessary feare these Gentlewomens faces be not so thick-bearded, for it were great pitty.

God and the King againe (quoth Sancho) when this charity were performed for some retired Damozels, as some working Gyrles, a man might undertake any hazard; but for to unbeard wayting-women, a pox: I would I might see um bearded from the highest to the lowest, from the nicest to the neatest. You are still bitter against waiting-women friend, quoth the Duchesse, you are much addicted to the Toledanian Apothe∣caries opinion; but on my faith you have no reason, for I have women in my House, that may bee a Patterne for Waiting-women, and here is Donna Rodriguez, that will not contradict mee. Your Excellency (quoth Rodriguez) may say what you will, God knowes all, whether wee bee Good or Bad; Bearded or Smoothe, as wee are our Mothers brought us forth as well as other Women, and since God cast us into the world, he knowes to what end; and I rely upon his mercy, and no bodies beard.

Well Mistrisse Rodriguez, and Lady Trifaldi quoth Don-Quixote, I hope to God he will behold your sorrowes with pittying eyes, and Sancho shall doe as I will have him, if Clavilenno were come once, and that I might encounter Malambruno; for I know, no Rasor would shave you with more facilitie, then my Sword should shave Malambrunoes head from his shoulders, for God permits the wicked, but not for ever.

Ah (quoth the Afflicted) now all the starres of the heavenly Region looke upon your Greatnesse, valorous Knight, with a gentle aspect, and infuse all prosperitie into your minde, and all valour, and make you the shield and succour of all dejected and reviled Waiting-woman-ship, abhominable to Apothecaries, backbited by Squires, and scoffed at by Pages, and the Devill take the Queane that in the floure of her youth put not her selfe in a Nunnery, rather then bee a waiting-woman, unfortunate as wee are, for though wee descend in a direct line, by man to man from Hector the Trojan, yet our Mistresses will never leave bethouing of us, tho••gh they might bee Queenes for it: O Gyant Malambruno (for though thou beest an Enchanter, thou art most

sure in my promises) send the matchlesse Clavileno unto us, that our misfortune may have an end; for if the heats come in, and these beards of ours last, woe bee to our ill fortune.

This the Trifaldi said with so much feeling, that she drew tears from all the spectators eyes, and stroaked them even from Sancho's; so that now hee resolved to accompanie his Master to the very end of the world, so he might obtain the taking the wooll from those venerable faces.

CHAP. XLI.

Of Clavileno's arrivall, with the end of this dilated Adventure.

IT grew now to bee night, and with it the expected time when Clavi∣leno the famous horse should come, whose delay troubled Don-Quixote, thinking that Malambruno deferring to send him, argued, that either hee was not the Knight for whom the Adventure was re∣served, or that Malambruno durst not come to single Combat with him: But look yee now, when all unexpected, four Savages entred the Garden, clad all in green Ivie, bearing upon their shouldiers a great wooden horse: they set him upon his leggs on the ground; and one of them said, Let him that hath the courage, get up upon this Engine.

Then (quoth Sancho) not I, I have no courage, I am no Knight. And the Salvage replyed, saying; And let his Squire ride behinde; and let him bee assured, that no sword but Malambruno's shall offend him: And there is no more to bee done, but to turn that pinn, which is upon the horses neck, and hee will carrie them in a moment where Malambruno attends: But lest the height and distance from earth make them light∣headed, let them cover their eyes till the horse neigh, a signe that they have then finisht their voyage. This said, with a slow pace, they martched out the same way they came.

The Afflicted, as soon as shee saw the horse, with very tears in her eyes, shee said to Don-Quixote; Valourous Knight; Malambruno hath kept his word, the horse is here, our beards increase, and each of us with every haire of them beseech thee to shave and sheere us, since there is no more to bee done, but that thou and thy Squire both mount, and begin this your happy new voyage. That will I willingly (said Don-Quixote) my Lady Trifaldi, without a cushion or spurs, that I may not delay time so much Lady, I desire to see you and all these Gentlewomen smooth and cleer. Not I (quoth Sancho) neither willingly nor unwillingly; and if this shaving cannot bee performed without my riding at the Crupper, let my master seek some other Squire to follow him, and these Gentlewomen some other means of smoothing themselves; for I am no Hagg that love to hurry in the Ayre: And what will my Islanders say, when they heare their Governour is hovering in the winde? Besides, there being three thousand leagues from hence to Candaya, if the horse should bee weary, or the Gyant offended, wee might bee these half dozen of yeers e're we return; and then perhaps there would bee neither Island nor dry-land in the world to acknowledge me: and since 'tis ordinarily said, that delay breeds danger, and hee that will not when hee may, &c. these Gentlewo∣mens beards shall pardon me, for 'tis good sleeping in a whole skin; I mean, I am very well at home in this house, where I receive so much kindenesse, and from whose Owner I hope for so great a good, as to see my self a Governour.

To which (quoth the Duke) Friend Sancho, the Island that I promised you, is not moveable nor fugitive, it is so deep rooted in the earth, that a great many pulls will not

root it up: and since you know, that I know there is none of these prime kinde of Officers, that payes not some kinde of bribe, some more, some lesse, yours for this Go∣vernment shall bee, that you accompanie your Master Don-Quixote to end and finish this memorable Adventure, that, whether you return on Clavileno with the brevity that his speed promiseth, or that your contrary fortune bring and return you home on foot like a Pilgrim from Inn to Inn, and from Ale-house to Ale-house; at your com∣ming back, you shall finde the Island where you left it, and the Islanders with the same desire to receive you for their Governour that they have alwaies had, and my good will shall alwaies bee the same; and doubt not Signior Sancho of this, for you should doe much wrong (in so doing) to the desire I have to serve you.

No more Sir (quoth Sancho) I am a poor Squire, and cannot carry so much courtesie upon my back: let my Master get up and blindefold me, and commend me to God Almighty, and tell mee, if, when I mount into this high-flying, I may recommend my self to God, or invoke the Angels that they may favour me.

To which the Trifaldi answered, You may recommend your self to God, or to whom you will; for Malambruno, though hee bee an Enchanter, yet hee is a Chri∣stian, and performs his Enchantments with much sagacity, and very warily, without medling with any body. Goe to then (quoth Sancho) God and the holy Trinity of Gaeta help me. Since the memorable Adventure of the Full-Mills (quoth Don-Quixote) I never saw Sancho so fearfull as now; and if I were as superstitious as some, his pusillanimity would tickle my conscience: but hark thee Sancho; by these Gentles leaves, I will speak a word or two with thee: and carrying Sancho amongst some trees in the Garden, taking him by both the hands, hee said, Thou seest, Brother Sancho, the large voyage that wee are like to have, and God knows when wee shall return from it, nor the leisure that our affaires hereafter will give us: I prethee therefore retire thy self to thy Chamber, as if thou wentst to look for some necessary for the way, and give thy self in a trice, of the three thousand and three hundred lashes, in which thou standest engaged, but five hundred only; so that the beginning of a businesse is half the ending of it.

Verily (quoth Sancho) I think you have lost your wits, this is just: I am going, and thou art crying out in haste for thy Mayden-head; I am now going to sit upon a bare peece of wood, and you would have my bumm smart. Beleeve me, you have no reason; let's now goe for the shaving these Matrons; and when wee return, I'le promise you to come out of debt: let this content you, and I say no more. Don-Quixote made answer, Well, with this promise Sancho I am in some comfort, and I beleeve thou wilt accom∣plish it; for though thou beest a fool,* yet I think thou art honest. [* Here I left out a line or two of a dull conceit; so it was no great matter; for in English it could not bee expressed.]

So now they went to mount Clavileno, and as they were getting up, Don-Quixote said, Hud-wink thy self Sancho, and get up; for hee that sends from so farre off for us, will not deceive us; for hee will get but small glory by it, and though all should succeed contrary to my imagination, yet no malice can obscure the glory of having un∣dergone this Adventure. Let's goe Master (quoth Sancho) for the beards and teares of these Gentlewomen are nailed in my heart, and I shall not eat a bit to doe me good, till I see them in their former smoothnesse. Get you up Sir, and hud-wink your self first; for if I must ride behinde you, you must needs get up first in the faddle.

'Tis true indeed (said Don-Quixote) and taking a hand-kerchief out of his pocket, hee desired the Afflicted to hide his eyes close: and when it was done, hee uncovered himself again, and said; As I remember, I have read in Virgill of the Palladium, that horse of Troy, that was of wood, that the Grecians presented to the Goddesse Pallas, with childe with armed Knights, which after were the totall ruine of all Troy; and so it were sit first to try what Clavileno hath in his stomack.

You neede not (said shee) for I dare warrant you, and know that Malambruno is neither traytor nor malicious, you may get up without any feare, and upon mee be it,

if you receive any hurt. But Don-Quixote thought, that every thing thus spoken to his safety, was a detriment of his valour: so, without more exchanging of words, up hee got, and tried the pin that easily turned up and downe: so with his legs at length, without stirrups, hee looked like an Image painted in a piece of Flanders Arras, or woven in some Roman triumph. Sancho got up faire and softly, and with a very ill will, and settling himselfe the best hee could upon the crupper, found it somewhat hard, and nothing soft, and desired the Duke, that if it were possible, hee might have a cushionet, or for failing, one of the Duchesses cushions of State, or a pillow from one of the Pages beds; for that Horses crupper, hee sayd, was rather Marble then Wood.

To this (quoth Trifaldi) Clavileno will suffer no kinde of furniture nor trapping upon him: you may doe well for your ease, to sit on him woman-wayes, so you will not feele his hardnesse so much. Sancho did so, and saying farewell, hee suffered himselfe to bee bound about the eyes, and after uncovered himselfe againe, and looking pit∣tifully round about the Garden with teares in his eyes, hee desired that they would in that dolefull trance joyne with him each in a Pater-noster, and an Ave Maria as God might provide them some to doe them that charitable office when they should bee in the like trance.

To which (quoth Don-Quixote) Rascall, are you upon the Gallowes, trow? or at the last gaspe, that you use these kinde of supplications? Art thou not, thou soule-lesse cowardly creature, in the same place, where the faire Magalona sate, from whence shee descended not to her grave, but to bee Queene of France, if Histories lye not? and am not I by thee? cannot I compare with the valorous Pierrs, that pressed this seat, that I now presse? Hudwinke, hudwinke thy selfe, thou dis-heartned Beast, and let not thy feare come forth of thy mouth, at least in my presence. Hudwinke mee (quoth Sancho) and since you will not have mee pray to God, nor recommend mee, how can I chuse but bee afrayd, lest some legion of Devills bee here, that may carry us headlong to destruction.

Now they were hudwinked, and Don-Quixote perceiving that all was as it should bee, layd hold on the pin, and scarce put his fingers to it, when all the Wayting-wo∣men, and as many as were present, lifted up their voyces, saying; God bee thy speed, Valorous Knight; God bee with thee, Vndaunted Squire: now, now you fly in the aire, cutting it with more speede then an arrow: now you begin to suspend, and asto∣nish as many as behold you from earth. Hold, hold, valorous Sancho; for now thou goest waviug in the aire, take heede thou fall not; for thy fall will bee worse then the bold Youths, that desired to governe his father, the Suns, charriot.

Sancho heard all this, and getting close to his Master, hee girt his armes about him, and said; Sir why doe they say wee are so high, if wee can heare their voyces? and me thinkes they talke here hard by us. Ne're stand upon that (quoth Don-Quixote) for as these kindes of flyings are out of the ordinary course of thousa••ds of leagues, thou mayst heare and see any thing, and doe not presse mee so hard, for thou wilt throw mee downe: and verily, I know not why thou shouldest thus tremble and bee afrayd; for I dare sweare, in all my life, I never rode upon an easier-paced horse, he goes as if hee never mooved from the place: Friend, banish feare; for the businesse goes on successefully, and wee have winde at will. Indeede 'tis true, quoth Sancho: for I have a winde comes so forcibly on this side of mee, as if I were blowed upon by a thou∣sand paire of bellowes: and it was true indeede, they were giving him aire, with a very good paire of bellowes.

This Adventure was so well contrived by the Duke, the Duchesse, and the Ste∣ward, that there was no requisite awanting, to make it perfect. Don-Quixote too feeling the breath, said: Vndoutedly, Sancho, wee are now come to the middle Re∣gion, where Haile, Snow, Thunder and Lightning, and the Thunder-bolt are ingen∣dred in the third Region, and if wee mount long in this manner, wee shall quickly be in the Region of fire, and I know not how to use this Pin, that wee mount not where wee shall bee scorcht.

Now they heated their faces with flax set on fire, and easie to be quencht, in a Cave a farre off: and Sancho, that felt the heate said•• Hang mee, if wee bee not now in that place where the fire is; for a great part of my Beard is signed, I'le unblind-fold my self Master, & see where abouts we are. Doe not qd. Don-Quixote, and remember that true tale of the Scholler Toraina, whom the Devill hoysted up into the ayre a horse-back on a Reede, with his eyes shut [A story beleeved in Spayne as Gospell,] and in twelve houres he arived at Rome, and lighted at the Towre of Nona, which is one of the streets of the City, and saw all the mis-chance, the assault and death of Borbon, and the mor∣row after returned back to Madrid, relating all hee had seene; and sayd; That as hee went in the ayre, the Devill bid him open his eyes, which hee did, and saw himselfe as hee thought so neere the body of the Moone, that hee might have touched her with his hands, and that he durst not look toward the Earth, for fear to be made giddy. So that Sancho, there is no uncovering us; for he that hath the charge of carrying us, will look to us, and peradventure we goe doubling of points, and mounting on high to fall even with the Kingdome of Candaya, as doth the Sacar or Hawke upon the Heron, to catch her, mount she never so high; and though it seem to us not halfe an houre since we parted from the Garden, beleeve me, we have travelled a great way.

I know not what belongs to it (quoth Sancho) but this I know, that if your Lady Magallanes, or Magalona were pleased with my seat, she was not very tender breech'd. All these discourses of the two most valiant were heard by the Duke and Duchesse, and them in the Garden, which gave them extraordinary content; who willing to make an end of this strange and well composed Adventure, clapt fire with some flax at Clavi∣leno's tayle; and straight, the horse being stuffed with Crackers, flew into the ayre, making a strange noyse, and threw Don-Quixote and Sancho both on the ground, and singed. And now all the bearded-Squadron of the Matrons vanished out of the Gar∣den, and Trifaldi too and all, and they that remained, counterfeited a dead swound, and lay all along upon the ground.

Don-Quixote and Sancho, ill-intreated, rose up, and looking round about, they wondred to see themselves in the same Garden from whence they had parted, and to see such a company of People laid upon the ground; and their admiration was the more in∣creased, when on one side of the Garden, they saw a great Launce fastned in the ground, and a smoothe white peece of Parchment hanging at it, with two twisted strings of greene silke, in which the following words were written with Letters of Gold,

THE famous and valorous Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha, finisht and ended the Adventure of the Contesse Trifaldi, otherwise called, The Afflicted Matron, and her Company, only with undertaking it,

Malambruno is satisfied and contented with all his heart, and now the Wayting-womens chins are smoothe and cleane, and the Princes Don Clanixo and Aptonomasia are in their pristine being, and when the Squires whipping shall bee accomplished, the white Pigeon shall bee free from the pestiferous Ier-Falcons that persecute her, and in her loved Lullers armes: for so it is ordained by the sage Merlin, proto-Enchanter of Enchanters.

When Don••Quixote had read these Letters of the parchment, hee understood plainly that they spoke of the disinchanting of Dulcinea, and giving many thanks to Heaven, that with so little danger hee had ended so great an exploit, as reducing the faces of the venerable Wayting-women to their former smoothnesse, that was now gone: he went towards the Duke and the Duchesse, who were not as yet come to themselves; and taking the Duke by the hand, hee said; Courage, courage, noble Sir, all's nothing, the Adventure is now ended, without braking of barrs, as you may plainly see by the writing there in that Register.

The Duke (like one that riseth out of a profound sleep) by little and little came to himself, and in the same Tenor the Duchesse, and all they that were down in the Gar∣den, with such shews of marvell and wonderment, that they did even seem to perswade,

that those things had hapned to them in earnest, which they counterfeited in jest. The Duke read the scrowle with his eyes half shut; and straight with open arme, hee went to embrace Don-Quixote, telling him, hee was the bravest Knight that ever was. Sancho looked up and down for the Afflicted, to see what manner of face shee had, now shee was dis-bearded, and if shee were so faire as her gallant presence made shew for: But they told him, that as Clavileno came down burning in the aire, and lighted on the ground, all the Squadron of Wayting-women with Trifaldi vanished, and now they were shaved and unfeathered.

The Duchesse asked Sancho, how hee did in that long voyage? To which hee an∣swered, I, Madam, thought (as my Master told mee) wee passed by the Region of fire, and I would have uncovered my self a little; but my Master (of whom I asked leave) would not let mee: but I that have certaine curious itches, and a desire to know what is forbidden mee, softly, without being perceived, drew up the Hankerchiffe that blinded mee, a little above my nose, and there I saw the earth, and mee thoughts it was no bigger then a graine of Mustard-seed, and the men that walked upon it, some∣what bigger then Hazel-nuts that you may see how high wee were then. To this (said the Duchesse) Take heede, friend Sancho, what you say; for it seemes you saw not the earth, but the men that walked on it: for it is plaine, that if the earth shewed no bigger then a graine of Mustard-seede, and every man like a Hazel-nut, one man alone would cover the whole earth.

'Tis true indeede (quoth Sancho) but I looked on one side of it, and saw it all. Looke you, Sancho (quoth the Duchesse) one cannot see all of a thing by one side. I cannot tell what belongs to your seeing, Madam (quoth Sancho) but you must thinke, that since wee flew by Enchantment; by Enchantment, I might see the whole earth and all the men, which way soever I looked: and if you beleeve not this, neither will you beleeve, that uncovering my selfe about my eye-browes, I saw my self so neer heaven, that betwixt it and mee there was not a handfull and a halfe; and I dare swear Madam, that 'tis a huge thing: and it happend that wee went that way where the seven Shee-goat-starrs were; and in my soul and conscience, I having been a Goat-heard in my youth, as soon as I saw them, I had a great desire to passe some time with them; which had I not done, I thought I should have burst. Well, I come then, and I take; What doe I doe? without giving notice to any body? no, not to my Master himself: fair and softly I lighted from Clavileno, and played with the Goats that were like white Violets, and such pretty flowers, some three quarters of an houre, and Clavileno moved not a whit all this while.

And while Sancho was playing with the Goats all this while, quoth the Duke, What did Signior Don-Quixote? To which, quoth Don-Quixote, as all these things are quite out of their naturall course, 'tis not much that Sancho hath said: only for me I say, I neither perceived my self higher or lower; neither saw I Heaven or Earth, or Seas or Sands: True it is, that I perceived I passed thorow the middle Region, and came to the fire: But to think wee passed from thence, I cannot beleeve it; for the Region of Fire being between the Moon and Heaven, and the latter Region of the Aire, wee could not come to Heaven, where the seven Goats are, that Sancho talks of, without burning our selves; which since wee did not, either Sancho lies or dreams.

I neither lie nor dream, quoth Sancho; for ask me the signes of those Goats, and by them you shall see whether I tell true or no. Tell them Sancho, quoth the Duchesse. Two of them, quoth Sancho, are green, two blood-red, two blew, and one mixt-co∣loured. Here's a new kinde of Goats, quoth the Duke: in our Region of the earth wee have no such coloured ones. Oh, you may bee sure, quoth Sancho, there's diffe∣rence between those and these. Tell me Sancho, quoth the Duke, did you see amongst those Shees any Hee-Goat? [An equivocall question; for in Spain they use to call Cuc∣kolds, Cabrones, hee-Goats.] No Sir, quoth Sancho, for I heard say, that none passed the hornes of the Moon.

They would ask him no more touching his voyage; for it seemed to them, that

Sancho had a clew to carry him all Heaven over, and to tell all that passed there, with∣out stirring out of the Garden. In conclusion this was the end of the Adventure of the Afflicted Matron that gave occasion of mirth to the Dukes, not only for the present, but for their whole life time, and to Sancho to recount for many ages, if hee might live so long. But Don-Quixote whispering Sancho in the eare, told him; Sancho, since you will have us beleeve all that you have seen in Heaven, I pray beleeve all that I saw in Montesinos Cave, and I say no more.

CHAP. XLII.

Of the advice that Don-Quixote gave Sancho Pança, before hee should goe to govern the Island, with other matter well digested.

THe Dukes were so pleased with the happy and pleasant successe of the Adventure of The Afflicted, that they determined to goe on with their jests, seeing the fit subject they had, to make them passe for earnest; so having contrived and given order to their servants and vassals, that they should obey Sancho in his Government of the promised Island; the next day after the jest of Clavileno's flight, the Duke bade Sancho prepare, and put himself in order to goe to bee Governour; for that now his Islanders did as much desire him, as showres in May.

Sancho made an obeysance to him, and said; Since I came down from Heaven, and since from on high I beheld the earth, and saw it so small, I was partly cooled in my de∣sire to bee a Governour; for what greatnesse can there bee to command in a grain of Mustard-seed? or what dignitie or power to govern half a dozen of men about the bignesse of Hazel-nuts? for to my thinking, there were no more in all the earth. If it would please your Lordship to give me never so little in Heaven, though 'twere but half a league, I would take it more willingly then the biggest Island in the world. Look you friend Sancho (quoth the Duke) I can give no part of Heaven to any body, though it bee no bigger then my naile; for these favors and graces are only in Gods disposing. What is in my power I give you, that is, an Island, right and straight, round and well proportioned, and extraordinary fertill and aboundant, where, if you have the Art, you may with the riches of the earth, hoord up the treasure of Heaven.

Well then (quoth Sancho) give us this Island, and in spight of Rascalls I'le goe to Heaven; and yet for no covetousnesse to leave my poor Cottage, or to get me into any Palaces, but for the desire I have, to know what kinde of thing it is bee a Gover∣nour.

If once you prove it Sancho (quoth the Duke) you will bee in love with Governing; so sweet a thing it is to command, and to bee obeyed: I warrant, when your Master comes to bee an Emperour, for without doubt hee will bee one (according as his affairs goe on) that hee will not bee drawn from it, and it will grieve him to the soul to have been so long otherwise.

Sir (quoth Sancho) I suppose 'tis good to command, though it bee but a head of Cattell.

Let me live and die with thee Sancho (quoth the Duke) for thou knowest all, and I hope thou wilt bee such a Governour as thy discretion promiseth, and let this suffice; & note, that to morrow about this time thou shalt go to the Government of thy Island, and this afternoon thou shallt bee fitted with convenient apparell to carry with thee, and all things necessary for thy departure.

Clad mee (quoth Sancho) how you will, for howsoever ye clad mee, I'le bee still Sancho Panca.

You are in the right (quoth the Duke) but the Robes must bee suteable to the Office or digitie which is professed; for it were not fit that a Lawyer should bee clad like a Souldier, or a Souldier like a Priest. You Sancho, shall bee clad, partly like a Lawyer, and partly like a Captaine; for in the Island that I give you, Armes are as re∣quisite as Learning.

I have little learning quoth Sancho, for as yet I scarce know my A. B. C. but 'tis e∣nough that I have my Christs Crosse ready in my memory to be a good Governor. I'le manage my weapon till I fall again, & God help me. With so good a memory quoth the Duke, Sancho cannot doe amisse.

By this time Don-Quixote came, and knowing what passed, and that Sancho was so speedily to goe to his Government, with the Dukes leave, he took him by the hand, and carried him aside, with a purpose to advise him how he should behave himself in his Of∣fice. When they came into Don-Quixotes chamber, the doore being shut he forced San∣cho, as it were, to sit down by him, and with a stayed voice said:

I give infinite thanks friend Sancho, that before I have received any good fortune, thou hast met with thine; I that thought to have rewarded thy service with some good luck of mine to have saved that labour, and thou sodainly past all expectation hast thy desires accomplished, others bribe, importune, sollicite, rise early, intreat, grow obsti∣nate, and obtain not what they sue for; and another comes hab-nab, and goes away with the place or Office that many others sought for, and here the Proverb comes in and joynes well; that Give a man luck and cast him into the Sea. Thou, that in my o∣pinion art a very Goose, without early rysing, or late siting up, without any labor, only the breath of Knight Errantry breathing on thee, without any more adoe art Gover∣nour of an Island, a matter of nothing: All this I say, Sancho, that thou attribute not this happinesse to thy Deserts, but that thou give God thankes, that sweetely dis∣poseth things: Next, thou shalt impute them to the greatenesse of the profession of Knight Errantry: (Thy heart then disposed to beleeve what I have said) bee attentive, Oh my sonne, to this thy Cato, that will advise thee, bee thy North-starre, and guide to direct and bring thee to a safe Port, out of this troublesome Sea where thou goest to ingulfe thy selfe; for your Offices and great charges are nothing else but a profound gulfe of confusions.

First of all, O son, thou must feare God, for to fear him is wisdom, and being wise, thou canst erre in nothing.

Secondly, thou must consider who thou art, and know thy self, which is the hardest kinde of knowledge that may bee imagined: From this knowledge thou shalt learne not to be swolne like the frogge that would equall himselfe with the Oxe, for if thou doe this, thou shalt (falling downe the wheele of thy madnesse) come to know thou wert but a hog-keeper.

That's true (quoth Sancho) but 'twas when I was a Boy; but after, when I grew to bee somewhat manish, I kept Geese, and not Hogges; but this mee thinks is nothing to the purpose, for all they that Governe come not from the Loynes of Kings.

'Tis true (said Don-Quixote) therefore these that have no noble beginnings, must mixe the gravitie of their Charge they exercise, with milde sweetenesse, which guided with wisdome, may free them from malicious murmuring, from which no state or cal∣ling is free.

Rejoyce, oh Sancho, in the humility of thy linage, and scorne not to say, thou com∣mest of labouring men, for when thou art not ashamed thy selfe, no body will seeke to make thee so, and alwaies strive to be held meane and virtuous, rather then proud and vicious; an infinite number from low beginnings have come to great risings, as Ponti∣ficall and Imperiall Dignities; and to confirm this, I could bring thee so many exam∣ples as should weary thee.

Note, Sancho, that if you follow virtue for your meane, and strive to doe virtuous

deeds, you need not envie those that are borne of Princes and great men; for Blood is inherited, but Virtue is atchieved; Virtue is of worth by it self alone, so is not Birth.

Which being so, if perchance any of thy Kindred come to see thee when thou art in thy Island, refuse him not, nor affront him; but entertain, welcome, and make much of him, for with this God will bee pleased, that would have no body despise his making, and thou shalt also in this correspond to good nature.

If thou bring thy Wife with thee (for it were not fit that those who are to govern long, should bee without them) teach her, instruct her, refine her naturall rudenesse; for many times all that a discreet Governour gets, a clownish woman spills and loses.

If thou chance to bee a Widdower (a thing that may happen) and desire to marry again, take not such a one as may serve thee for a bait and Fishing-rod to take bribes: for let me tell thee, the Husband must give an account of all that (being a Judge) his Wife receives, and at the generall Resurrection, shall pay fourfold what hee hath been accused for in his life time.

Never pronounce judgement rash or willfully, which is very frequent with ignorant Judges, that presume to bee skillfull.

Let the tears of the poor finde more compassion (but not more Justice) then the in∣formation of the rich.

Seek as well to discover the truth from out the promises and corruptions of the rich, as the sobs and importunities of the poor.

When equity is to take place, lay not all the rigour of the law upon the Delinquent; for the fame of the rigorous judge is not better then of the compassionate.

If thou slacken Justice, let it not bee with the weight of a bribe, but with the weight of pitty.

When thou happenest to judge thine enemies case, forget thy injury, and respect equity.

Let not proper passion blinde thee in another mans Cause; for the errors thou shalt commit in that, most commonly are incurable, or if they be helped, it must be with thy wealth and credit.

If any fair woman come to demand Justice of thee, turn thy eyes from her teares, and thy ears from her lamentations, and consider at leisure the sum of her requests, except thou mean that thy reason be drowned in her weeping, and thy goodnesse in her sighs.

Him that thou must punish with Deeds, revile not with Words; since to a Wretch the punishment is sufficient, without adding ill language: [A good Item to our Iudges of the Common-Law.]

For the Delinquent that is under thy jurisdiction, consider that the miserable man is subject to the temptations of our depraved nature, and as much as thou canst, with∣out grievance to the contrary party: shew thy self milde and gentle; for although Gods attributes are equall, yet to our sight his mercy is more precious and more emi∣nent then his Justice.

If Sancho, thou follow these Rules and Precepts, thy dayes shall bee long, thy fame eternall, thy rewards full, thy happinesse indelible, thou shalt marry thy Children how thou wilt, thy shall have titles, and thy grand-children, thou shalt live in peace and love of all men; and when thy life is ending, death shall take thee in a mature old age, and thy Nephews shall close thy eyes with their tender and delicate hands.

Those I have told thee hitherto, are documents, concerning thy soul to adorn it; hearken now to those that must serve for the adorning thy body.

CHAP. XLIII.

Of the second advice that Don-Quixote gave Sancho Pança.

WHo could have heard this discourse, and not held Don-Quixote for a most wise Personage, and most honest? But as it hath been often told in the progresse of this large History, hee was only besotted, when hee touched upon his Chivalry, and in the rest of his talk he shewed a cleer and current apprehension: so that every foot his works bewrayed his judgement, and his judgement his works: But in these second documents hee g••ve now to Sancho, hee shew'd a great deal of lenity, and ballanced his judgement and his madnesse in an equall scale. Sancho hearkened most attentively unto him, and strove to bear in minde his instructi∣ons, as thinking to observe them, and by them to bee very well delivered of his big∣swoln Government. Don-Quixote proceeded, saying:

Touching the governing thine owne Person and Houshold Sancho, the first thing I enjoyn thee to, is, to bee cleanly, and to paire thy Nailes, not letting them grow as some doe, whose ignorance hath made them think 'tis a fine thing to have long Nails, as if that excrement and superfluity that they let grow, weare only their Nailes, rather the claws of a Lizard-bearing Castrell, and a foule abuse it is.

Goe not ungirt or loose, for a slovenly Garment is the signe of a carelesse minde, if so bee this kinde of slovenly loosenesse bee not to some cunning end, as it was judged to bee in Iulius Caesar.

Consider with discreetion what thy Government may bee worth, and if it will afford thee to bestow Liveries on thy Servants, give them decent and profitable ones, rather then gawdie or sightly, and so give thy cloth amongst thy Servants and the poor; I mean, that if thou have six Pages, give three of them Liveries, and three to the poor; so shalt thou have Pages in earth, and in Heaven: and your vain-glorious have not at∣tained to this kinde of giving liveries.

Eat not Garlick or Onions, that thy Pesantry may not be known by thy breath: walk softly, and speak stayedly; but not so as if it appeared thou hearkenedst to thy self, for all kinde of affectation is naught.

Eat little at dinner, but lesse at supper; for the health of the whole body is forged in the forge of the stomack.

Be temperate in drinking; considering that too much Wine neither keeps secreet nor fulfills promise.

Take heed Sancho of chewing on both sides, or to ruct before any body.

I understand not your ructing (quoth Sancho.) To ruct (quoth hee) is as much as to belch; and this is one of the fowlest words our language hath, though it be very sig∣nificant; so your more neat people have goten the Latine word, and call belching ructing, and belchers ructers: and though some perhaps understand not this; 'tis no great matter, for use and custome will introduce them that they may easily bee understood, and the power that the vulgar and custome hath, is the enriching of a language.

Truly, (said Sancho) one of your advices that I mean to remember, shall bee not to belch, for I am used to doe it often. Ruct Sancho, not belch (quoth Don-Quixote.) Ruct I will say (quoth hee) hence forward, and not forget it.

Likewise Sancho, you must not intermixe your discourse with that multiplicity of Proverbs you use; for though Proverbs bee witty short sentences, yet thou bringest them in so by head and shoulders, that they are rather absurdities then sentences. This (quoth Sancho) God Almighty can only help; for I have more Proverbs then a Book will hold, and when I speak, they come ••o thick to my mouth, that they fall ou••, and strive one with another, who shall come out first: but my tongue casts out the first it

meets withall, though they bee nothing to the purpose, but I will have a care hereafter to speak none but shall bee fitting to the gravity of my place; for where there is plenty, the Guests are not empty; and hee that works, doth not care for play; and hee is in safety that stands under the Bels; And h••s judgements rare, that can spend and spare.

Now, now (quoth Don-Quixote) glue, thred, fasten thy Proverbs together, no body comes; the more ••thou art told a thing, the more thou dost it: I bid thee leave thy Proverbs, and in an instant thou hast cast out a Letany of them, that are as much to the purpose, as, To morrow I found a horse-shooe. Look thee Sancho, I finde not fault with a Proverb brought in to some purpose; but to load and heap on Proverbs hudling together, makes a discourse wearisome and base.

When thou ge••st on horse-back, doe not goe casting thy body all upon the crupper, nor carry thy leggs stiff down, and stradling from the horses belly, nor yet so loosly, as if thou wert still riding on thy Dapple, for your horse-riding makes some appear Gen∣tlemen, others Grooms.

Let thy sleep bee moderate; for hee that riseth not with the Sun, loseth the day: And observe Sancho, That diligence is the Mother of good Fortune; and sloth the con∣trarie, that never could satisfie a good desire.

This last advice that I mean to give thee, though it bee not to the adorning of thy body, yet I would have thee bear it in thy memory; for I beleeve it will bee of no lesse use to thee, then those that I have hitherto given thee, and it is,

That thou never dispute of Linages, comparing them together, since of necessity a∣mongst those that are compared, one must bee the better; and of him thou debasest, thou shalt bee abhorred; and of him thou ennoblest, not a whit rewarded.

Let thy apparrell bee a painted Hose, and Stocking, a long-skirted Jacket, and a Cloke of the longest; but long Hose by no means, for they become neither Gentlemen nor Governours.

This is all Sancho, I will advise thee to for the present; as the time and occasion•• serve hereafter, so shall my instructions bee, so that thou bee carefull to let me know how thou dost.

Sir (quoth Sancho) I see well that you have told me nothing but what is good, holy, and profitable: but to what purpose, if I remember nothing? True it is, that of not letting my nails grow, and to marry again if need bee, I shall not forget; but your other slabb••r-sawces, your tricks and quillets, I cannot remember them, nor shall not, no more then last yeers clouds: therefore I pray let me have them in writing; for though I can neither write nor read, Ile give them to my Confessor, that hee may frame them into me, and make me capable of them at time of need.

Wreth that I am (quoth Don-Quixote) how ill it appears in a Governour, not to write or read! for know Sancho, that for a man not to read, or to bee left-handed, argues that either hee was a sonne of mean Parents, or so unhappie and untowardly that no good would prevaile on him.

I can set to my name (quoth Sancho) for when I was Constable of our Town, I learnt to make certain Letters, such as are set to mark trusses of stuff, which they said spelt my name: Besides, now Ile feign that my right hand is maimed, and so another shall firm for me; for there's a remedy for every thing but death: and since I beare sway, I'le doe what I list: for according to the Proverb, He that hath the Judge to his Father, &c. [a troop of absurd speeches still to Sancho's part:] and I am a Governour, which is more then Judge. I, I, let um come and play at bo••-peep, let um back-bite me, let um come for wooll, and I'le send them back shorne; whom God loves, his house is savory to him; and every man bears with the rich mans follies; so I being rich, and a Governour, and liberall too, as I mean to bee, I will bee without all faults. No, no, pray bee dainty, and see what will become on't; have much, and thou shalt bee esteemed much, quoth a Grandame of mine; And might overcomes right.

Oh, a plague on thee Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) threescore thousand Sata••s take thee and thy Proverbs; this houre thou hast been stringing them one upon another, and giving me tormenting potions with each of them: I assure thee that one of these

dayes these Proverbs will carry thee to the Gallows; for them thy Vassalls will bereave thee of thy Government, or there will bee a community amongst them. Tell me igno∣rant, where doest thou finde them all? Or how doest thou apply them, Ninny-ham∣mer? for, for me to speake one and appply it well, it makes me sweat and labour as if I had digged.

Assuredly, Master mine, quoth Sancho, a small matter makes you angry: why the Devill doe you pine that I make use of my owne goods? for I have no other, nor any other stocke but Proverbs upon Proverbs: and now I have foure that fall out jump to the purpose, like Peares for a working Basket: but I will say nothing, for now Sancho shall bee called, Silence. Rather babling, quoth Don-Quixote, or obstinacy it selfe; yet I would faine know what four Proverbs they bee that came into thy minde, so to the purpose; for I can think upon none, yet I have a good memory.

What better (said Sancho) then meddle not with a hollow tooth: And, Go from my house, What will you have with my wife? Theres no answering, and, If the pot fall upon the stone, or the stone on the pot, ill for the pot, ill for the stone; all which are much to the purpose. That no body meddle with their Governour, nor with their Superiour, lest they have the worst, as hee that puts his hand to his teeth (so they bee not hollow, 'tis no matter if they bee teeth) Whatsoever the Governour saies, there is no replying, as in saying. Get you from my house, and, What will you have of my wife? and that of the pot and the stone, a blinde man may perceive it: so that hee that sees the moate in another mans eye, let him see the beame in his owne, that it may not bee said by him, The dead was afraid of her that was flayd. And you know, Sir, that the foole knowes more in his owne house, then the wise man doth in a∣nothers.

Not so, Sancho, (quoth Don-Quixote:) for the foole, neyther in his owne house nor anothers, knowes ought, by reason that no wise edifice is seated upon the in∣crease of his folly: and let us leave this, Sancho for if thou governe ill, thou must bear the fault, and mine must bee the shame; but it comforts mee that I have done my duty in advising thee truly, and as discreetly as I could, and with this I have accomplisht with my obligation, and God speed thee Sancho, and governe thee in thy Govern∣ment, and bring mee out of the scruple I am in, that thou wilt turne thy Government with the heeles upwards, which I might prevent, by letting the Duke know thee better, and telling him that all that fatnesse, and little corps of thine, is nothing but a sack of Proverbs and knavery.

Sir (quoth Sancho) if you thinke I am not fit for this Government, from hence∣forward I lose it: I had rather have a poore little scrap of the naile of my soule, then my whole body: and I can as well keepe my selfe with, pliane Sancho, a Loafe and an Onyon, as a Governour with Capons and Patridges: and whilst wee are asleepe, all are alike: great and small, poore and rich: and if you consider on't, you shall finde, that you onely put mee into this veine of governing: for I know no more what be∣longs to governing of Islands then a Vulture, and rather, then in being a Governour, the Divell shall fetch my soule; I had rather bee Sancho, and goe to heaven, then a Go∣vernour and go to hell. Truely, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, for these last words thou hast spoken, I deeme thee worthy to govern a thousand Islands: thou hast a good naturall capacitie, without which no science is worth ought; serve God, and erre not in thy maine intentions, I meane thou alwayes have a firme purpose and intent, to bee sure in all businesses that shall occurre, because Heaven alwayes favours good desires, and let's goe dine: for I beleeve now the Lords expect us.

CHAP. XLIV.

How Sancho Pança was carried to his Government, and of the strange Adventure that befell Don-Quixote in the Castle.

TIs said, that in the originall of this History, it is read, that when Cid Hamete came to write this Chapter, the Interpreter translated it not as hee had written it, which was a kinde of complaint of him∣selfe, that hee undertook so dry and barren a story, as this of Don-Quixote, because it seemed that Don-Quixote and Sancho were the sole-speakers, and that hee durst not enlarge himselfe with o∣ther digressions, or graver accidents and more delightfull: and hee said, That to have his invention, his hand and his quill, tyed to one sole subject, and to speake by the mouthes of few, was a most insupportable labor, and of no benefit to the Author: so that to avoyd this inconvenience, in the first part hee used the Art of Novels, as one, of The Curious Impertinent, another of The captiv'd Captaine, which are (as it were) separated from the History, though the rest that are there recounted, are matters happened to Don-Quixote, which could not but bee set downe: hee was of opinion likewise, as hee said, that many being carried away with attention to Don-Quixotes exployts, would not heed his Novels, and skip them, either for hast or irke∣somenesse, without noting the cunning worke-manship, and framing of them, which would bee plainely shewn, if they might come to light by themselves alone with∣out Don-Quixotes madnesse, or Sancho's simplicities; therefore in this second part, hee would not engraffe loose Novels, or adjoyning to the Story, but certaine accidents that might bee like unto them, sprung from the passages that the truth it selfe offers, and these too sparingly, and with words only proper to declare them: and since, hee is shut up and contained in the limits of this narration, having understanding, suffici∣ency and ability to treat of all, his request is, that his labour bee not contemned, but ra∣ther that hee bee commended, not for what hee writes, but for what hee hath omitted to write: so hee goes on with his History, saying;

That when Don-Quixote had dined, the same day that hee gave Sancho his instru∣ctions, in the after-noone hee let him have them in writing, that hee might seeke some body to read them to him: but as soone as ever hee had given him them, hee lost them, and they came to the Dukes hands, who shewed them to the Duchesse; and both of them afresh admired at Don-Quixotes madnesse, and his understanding together: and so going forward with their jests, that afternoone they sent Sancho well accompanied to the place, that to him seemed an Island.

It fell out then that the charge of this businesse was laid upon a Steward of the Dukes, a good wise fellow, and very conceited; for there can bee no wit that is not governed with discretion; hee it was that playd the Countesse Trifaldi's part, with the cunning that hath beene related, with this and with his Masters instructions how hee should behave himselfe towards Sancho, hee performed his taske marvellously. I say then, that it hapned, that as Sancho saw the Steward, the very face of Trifaldi came into his minde, and turning to his Master, hee said: Sir, the Devill beare mee from hence just as I beleeve, if you doe not confesse, that this Steward of the Dukes here present, hath the very countenance of the Afflicted.

Don-Quixote earnestly beheld the Steward, and having thorowly seene him, said to Sancho: There is no need of the Devils taking thee just as thou beleevest (for I know not what thou meanest) for the Afflicteds face is just the same that the Stewards is•• but for all that, the Steward is not the afflicted: for to bee so, were a minifest contra∣diction, and now 'tis no time to sift out these things, which were to enter into an in∣tricate

Labyrinth: beleeve mee, Friend; 'twere fit to pray to God very earnestly, to deliver us from these damned Witches and Enchanters. 'Tis no jesting matter, quoth Sancho, for I heard him speake before, and mee thought the very voice of Trifaldi soun∣ded in my eares.

Well, I will bee silent: but yet I will see henceforward, if I can discover any signe to confirme or forgoe my jealousie. You may doe so, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote; and you shall give mee notice of all that in this businesse you can discover, and of all that shall befall you in your Government.

Sancho in conclusion departed with a great troope, clad like a Lawyer, and upon his backe hee had a goodly tawny riding Coat of watred Chamlet, and a Hunters Cap of the same, hee rode upon a Hee Moyle after the Ginet fashion, [The Stirrops short, and his legges tru••••ed up,] and behinde him, by the Dukes order, his Dapple was ledde, with trappings and Also-like ornaments all of silk: Sancho turned his head now and then to looke upon his Asse, with whose company hee was so well pleased, that hee would not have changed to have beene Emperour of Germany. At parting hee kissed the Dukes hands, and received his Masters benediction, who gave it him with teares, and Sancho received it with blubberings.

Now Reader let honest Sancho part in peace and in good time, and expect two bushels of laughter, which his demeanor in his Government will minister to thee: and in the mean time, mark what befell his Master that very night: for if it make thee not laugh outright, yet it will cause thee shew thy teeth, and grin like an Ape: for Don-Qui∣xotes affairs must either bee solemnized with admiration or laughter.

'Tis said then, that Sancho was scarce departed, when Don-Quixote resented his so∣litarinesse, and if it had been possible for him to have revoked his Commission or taken away his Government, hee would have done it.

The Duchesse knew his Melancholy, and asked him why hee was so sad: for if it were for Sancho's absence, shee had Squires, and Waiting-women, and Damzells in hee house that would doe him all service.

True it is Madam (quoth Don-Quixote) that I resent Sancho's absence: but that is not the principall cause that makes me appear sad: And of those many kindenesses that your Excellency offers me, I only accept and make choyse of the good will with which they are offered; and for the rest, I humbly beseech your Excellency that you give me leave in my Chamber to serve my self.

Truly Signior Don-Quixote (quoth the Duchesse) it must not bee so; for four of my Damzells shall wait upon you, as fair as flowres. They shall bee no flowres to mee (quoth hee) but very thrones that prick my soul. They shall fly as soon as enter into my Chamber, or come neer mee. If your Greatnesse will continue in your favours to∣wards me, let this bee one; That I may serve my self within mine own doors, that I may put a wall in midst of my desires and honesty; and I will not forgoe this custome for all the liberality that your Highnesse will shew unto me. To conclude, I will rather sleep in my clothes, then yeeld that any body shall help to undresse me.

Enough, enough, Signior Don-Quixote (quoth the Duchesse) for my part, He give order that not so much as a Flye shall come within your distance, much lesse a Damzel: I am none of those that would make Signior Don-Quixote transcend his decency; for as I have a kinde of glimmerring, one of Signior Don-Quixotes most eminent virtues is his honestie. Undresse your self, and goe to bed alone, after your own fashion how you will, and no body shall hinder you, and in your Chamber you shall have all things necessary, and lock your door to you; your vessels shall bee ready, that no naturall cause make you rise to open it.

Long live the Grand Dulcinea del Toboso, and her name farre extended upon the Globe of the Earth, since she deserved to be beloved of so honest and valiant a Knight; and the gracious Heavens infuse into Sancho Panca o••r Governour his heart, a desire to finish the disciplining of himself quickly, that the world may re-enjoy the beauty of so great a Lady.

To which (quoth Don-Quixote) your Highnesse hath spoken like your self; for no ill

thing can proceed from the mouth of so good a Lady, and Dulcinea shall bee the more happie, and more esteemed in the world, in that your Greatnesse hath praised her, then if shee had had the praises of the best Rhetoricians in the world.

Well: goe too, Signior Don-Quixote (quoth the Duchesse) 'tis now sup∣per time, and the Duke expects us; come Sir, let us sup and to bed betimes: For your voyage yesterday from Candaya, was not so short, but it hath left some weari∣nesse in you.

None at all, Lady quoth he, for I may sweare to your Excellency, that in my life time I never rode upou a gentler nor better-paced Beast then Clavileno; and I know no rea∣son why Malambruno should lose so swift and so gentle a horse, and so burne him with∣out more adoe.

You may imagine quoth she, that he repenting him of the hurt he had done Trifaldi and her company, and many others; and of the wickednesse, that as a Witch and En∣chanter he had committed, would destroy the instruments of his Office, and so burnt Clavileno as the chiefest of them; and that which did most disquiet him, roving up and down; and so with his burnt ashes, and the trophy of the scrole, Don-Quixotes valour is eternized.

Don-Quixote againe gave fresh thanks to the Duchesse: and when he had supt, hee retyred to his Chamber alone, without permitting any body to serve him, hee was so a∣fraid to meet with occasions that might induce him to forget the honest decorum due to his Lady Dulcinea, Amadis his goodness being alwaies in his imagination, the flowre and Looking-glasse of Knights Errant.

The dore he shut after him, and undressed himselfe by the light of two waxe-Can∣dles, as hee pulled off his stockins (Oh ill luck unworthy such a Personage) there broke from him, not sighs or any such thing that might discredit his cleanly neatnesse, but some foure and twenty stitches and a halfe, that made his stockins looke like a Lat∣tice-window: The good Knight was extremely afflicted, and would have given for a dram of greene silke, an ounce of silver: greene-silke, I say, for his stockins were greene: and here Benengeli exclamed saying; Oh povertie, povertie, I know not what moved that famous Cordovan Poet, to call thee holy thankless gift. For I that am a Moore, know very well by the communication I have had with Christians, that holinesse consists in Charitie, Humilitie, Faith, Obedience and Povertie: But yet a man had neede have a speciall grace from God, that can bee contented, being poore, except it bee with such a kinde of povertie as one of the greatest Saints speaks o••: E∣steem of all things as if you had them not, and this is called poornesse of Spirit. But thou, second povertie (of that kinde that I mean) why do'st thou mixe thy self with Gentlemen, and those that bee well borne? Why doest thou make them cobble their shooes; and that the buttons of their Jerkins bee some silk, others haire, others Glasse? Why must their Ruffs for the most part bee unset Lettice wayes, and not set with the stick? (and by this you may perceive how ancient the use of Starch is, and of setting Ruffs.) Hee proceed••: Unhappie hee, that being well born, puts his credit to shifts, as by ill faring, with his door locked to him, making his Tooth-picker an Hypocrite, with which hee comes to the street door picking his Teeth, though hee have eat nothing that should require such cleanlinesse: [Hee describes the right custome of his hungry Country-men in generall.] Unhappy hee, I say, whose credit is skarred, and thinks that a patch upon his shooe is spyed a League off, or the thorow sweating of his Hat, or the threed-barenesse of his Cloke, or the hunger of his Maw. All this was renewed in Don••Quixote by the breach of his Stocking: but his comfort was that Sancho had left him a pair of Boots which hee thought to put on the next day. Finally, to Bed he went heavy and pensative, as well for want of Sancho's company, as for the irreparable mis∣fortune of his Stocking, whose stitches hee would have taken up, though it had been with silk of another colour, which is one of the greatest signes of misery that may befall a Gentleman in the progres of his prolixe necessitie. He put out the lights; 'twas hot, and he could not sleep; so he rose from his Bed, and opened a little the lid of an Iron win∣dow that looked toward a faire Garden; and opening it, hee perceived and heard peo∣ple

stirring and talking in the Garden; they below raised their voyces, insomuch that these speeches might bee heard.

Bee not so earnest with me, O Emerencia, to have mee sing; for thou knowest that ever since this stranger hath been in the Castle, and that mine eyes beheld him, I cannot sing but weep; besides my Ladies sleep is rather short then sound; and I would not that she should know we were here for all the goods in the world; & though she should sleep, and not wake, my singing yet were in vain, if this new Aeneas sleep, and wake not to give eare to it, this that is come into my kingdome to leave me scorned & forsaken.

Think not of that, friend Altisidora (said they) for doubtlesse the Duchesse and every body else in the house is asleep, except the Master of thy heart, and thy souls alarum; for now I heard him open his window, and hee is certainly awake: sing poor grieved Wretch, in a low and sweet tune, to the sound of thy Harp; and if the Duchesse should perceive it: our excuse shall bee, that wee are here by reason 'tis so hot within doors.

'Tis not for our being here, O Emerencia, quoth Altisidora! but that I am not willing my Song should discover my heart; and that I should bee held by those that have no notice of the powerfull force of love, for a longing and light huswife: but come what will on it, better shame in the face then a spot in the heart: and with this shee heard a Harp most sweetly plaid on. Which when Don-Quixote heard, it amazed him; and in the instant an infinite number of Adventures came into his minde, of Windows, Grates, Gardens, Musick, Courting, and Fopperies, that hee had read in his sottish Books of Knighthood; and straight hee imagined that some Damzell of the Duchesses was enamored on him, and that her honesty enforced her to conceal her affection, hee was afraid lest hee should yeeld, but firmly purposed not to bee van∣quished; so recommending himself, heart and soul, to his Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, hee determined to hearken to the Musick: and that they might know hee was there, hee feigned a sneeze, which not a little pleased the Damzels, that desired nothing else: so Altisidora running on, and tuning her Harpe, began this Song.

Thou that in thy Bed do'st lye, In mid'st of Holland sheets; Sleeping with thy leggs out-stretcht, All night long, untill the morn.

Oh thou Knight the valiantest That all Mancha hath produc't, More honest, and more blest withall; Then the fin'st Arabia gold:

Heare a Damzell sorrowfull, Tall of growth; but ill sh'hath thriv'd; That, with light of thy two Suns, Feels her soul enflam'd and scorcht.

Thou thy Adventures followest, Others mis-adventures find'st; Thou giv'st wounds, and yet deny'st To give healing remedy.

Tell mee, O thou valiant Knight; (God increase thy miseries) Wert thou bred in Africa, Or in Jaca Mountanous?

Serpents nourish thee with Milk; Or perhaps thy Nurses were

Th'uncouth thinknesse of the Woods, Or the Mountains horrible.

Well may Dulcinea, shee, That same Damzell plump and sound, Bragg that shee hath conquerd a Tyger and a salvage Beast.

For which shee shall famous be, From Henares to Xarama, Tagus, Mansanares, and Pisverga, and Arlanza too.

Oh that I might change with her, I would give my Coat to boot, And the gaudy'st that I have, All bedawb'd with golden fringe,

Oh that I were in thy armes, If not so, but neer thy bed, That I might but scratch thy head, And the Dand-roff rid from thee

Much I ask, but not deserve Favours so remarkable: Let mee then but touch thy foot, Fit for my humility.

Oh what night-Caps I would give, And what silver Socks to thee, What Damaska Breeches eke, And what cloaks of Holland too.

Likewise of the finest Pearls, Each as bigg as any Gall, Which, if that there were but one, Might bee call'd, The one alone.

Doe not from thy Tarpey view This same fire that doth me s••orch Manchegan Nero of the world, Nor kindle't with thy cruelty.

Young I am, a tender chick, Not yet my age is past fifteen, Fourteen am I, three moneths more, I sweare to thee in conscience.

I doe not limp, I am not lame, Nothing about mee maim'd; And my locks like Lillies are That doe drag upon the ground.

And although my mouth bee wide, Yet my nose is something flat,

And my Teeth are Topaces: Beauty lift•• mee to the clouds.

My voice you see, if that you hark, To the sweetest, equall is, And my disposition too, Lesse then reasonable is.

These and other Graces more, Of thy Quiver are the spoils; Of this house I Damzell am, And Altisidora call'd.

Here the sore wounded Altisidora ended her Song, and the fright of the required Don-Quixote began, who fetching a deep sigh, said within himself, That I must bee so unhappie an Errant, that no Damzell that sees me, but is enamoured on me: That Dulcinea del Toboso should bee so unfortunate, that they will not let her alone enjoy my incomparable firmnesse: Queens, what mean you toward her •• Empresses, why doe you persecute her! Damzells of fourteen or fifteen yeers, why doe you bait her! Leave, leave the poor Creature; Let her tryumph, joy, and rejoyce with the lot that Love gave her, in yeelding her my Heart, and delivering her my Soul. Look yee, enamoured troop, for Dulcinea only am I of Passe and Sugar-pellets, and for all else of Flint: for her I am Honey; for you bitter Aloes: Dulcinea only is to me fair, discreet, honest, gallant, well-born: and others foul, foolish, light, and wor••-borne. Nature threw mee into the world to bee only hers, and no bodies else: let Altisidora weep or sing: let the Lady dispair for whom I was banged in the Castle of the Enchanted Moor [His Adventure in the first part with the Carrier and Maritornes in the Vent:] for sod or roasted, I am Dulcinea's, clean, well nurtured, and honest, in spight of all the powerfull Witch-crafts of the earth: and with this hee clapt to the window sodainly, and all angry and despiteous, as if some disgrace had befaln him, hee got him to bed, where for the present wee will leave him, for the Grand Sancho Panca calls upon us, who means to begin his famous Government.

CHAP. XLV.

How the Grand Sancho Pança took possession of his Island, and the manner of his beginning to Govern.

OPerpetuall discoverer of the Antipodes; Torch to the World; Eye of Heaven; sweet Stirrer of Wine-cooling Vessells: one while Titan, another Phoebus: some times an Archer, other whiles a Physician; Father of Poesie; Inventer of Musick; thou that alwaies risest, and (though it seem so) yet never settest. To thee I speak, O Sunne, by which man begets man: To thee I speak; help me, and lighten my obscure wit, that I may punctually runn thorow the narration of the Grand Sancho Panca's Government; for without thee I am dull, unmolded, and con∣fused. I proceed then thus.

Sancho with all his troop came to a Town, which had in it about a thousand Inhabi∣tants, which was one of the best the Duke had: They told him the Island was called Barataria, eyther because the Town was called Baratario, or else because hee had ob∣tained his Government so cheap. When hee came to the Town Gates (for it was wall∣ed)

the Officers came out to welcome him; the bells rung, and all the Inhabitants made shew of a generall gladnesse, and they carried him in great pomp to the high Church, to give God thanks: and straight, after some ridiculous ceremonies, they de∣livered him the Keyes, & admitted him for perpetuall Governour of the Island Barata∣ria. His apparell, his beard, his fatnesse, and the shortnesse of this new Governour, made all the people admire that knew not the jigg of the matter, and those also that knew it, which were many.

Finally, when hee came out of the Church, they carried him to the Judgement seat, and seated him i•• it, and the Dukes Steward told him; It is an old custome, Sir Gover∣nour in this Island, that hee that comes to take possession of this famous Island, must answer to a question that shall bee asked him, that must bee somewhat hard and intricate, by whose answer the Town ghesseth and taketh the pulse of their new Governours capacity, and accordingly, is either glad or sorry at his comming.

Whilest the Steward said this to Sancho, hee was looking upon certain great letters that were written upon the wall over against his seat; and because hee himself could not read, hee asked what painting that was in the wall? It was (answered him:) Sir, the day is set down there in which your Honour took possession of this Island, and the Epitaph saies thus; This day, such a day of the moneth and yeer, Signior Don Sancho Pança took possession of this Island, long may hee enjoy it. And whom call they Don San∣cho Panca (said Sancho?) Your Honour (quoth the Steward;) for no other Panca hath come into this Island, but hee that is seated in that seat. Well, mark you Brother (quoth Sancho) there belongs no Don to me, neither ever was there any in all my Linage; I am plain Sancho, my Father was called Sancho, my Grandfather and all were Pansa's without any additions of Dons or Donnaes, and I beleeve this Island is as full of Dons as stones: but 'tis enough, God knows my meaning; and perhaps if my Government last but four daies to an end, I'le weed out these Dons that with their multiplicity doe weary and trouble like Mosquitos. On with your question, Master Steward, I'le an∣swer you as well as I can, let the Town bee sorry or not sorry.

At this instant two men came into the Judgemen•• place; the one clad like a Hus∣bandman, and the other like a Taylor, having sheeres in his hand; the Taylor said, Sir Governour, I and this Husbandman are come before you for this cause: This honest man came yesterday to my shop, and I, saving your reverence, am a Taylor, and a free man, God bee thanked, and shewing mee a piece of cloth, asked mee; Sir, will there bee enough here to make mee a Capouch? I measuring the cloth, answered him, Yes: he thought as I did, and I thought true, that I would steale some of his cloth, be∣ing maliciously bent, and out of the ill opinion hee had of Ta••l••rs: and hee replied a∣gaine, that I should tell if there were enough to make two: I smelt his drift, and told him, I; and my Gallant in his first knavish intention, went adding more Capouches, and I answered with more yesses, till wee came to five, and even now hee came for them, I give them him, but hee will not pay mee for the making, rather hee demands that I pay him, or returne him his cloth. Is it true this (quoth Sancho)? Yes, said the fellow; but pray, Sir, let him shew his five Capouches that hee hath made mee With a very good will, (quoth the Taylor:) and continently taking his hand from under his cloake, hee shewed five Capouches in it, upon each finger one, and said; Behold here the five Capouches that this man would have mee make, and in my soul and conscience I have not a jot of cloth left, as any workeman shall judge.

All the by standers laughed at the number of the Capouches, and the strange con∣tention. Sancho, after a little consideration, said; Mee thinkes, in this suit there need no delayes, but a quicke and plaine judgement; My sentence therefore is, that the Tay∣lor lose his labour, and the Husbandman his cloth, and that the Capouches bee carried to the poore in the prison, without any more adoe.

If the sentence that passed of the Grazier bred admiration in the by-stander, this mov'd them to laughter; but what the Governour commanded, was fulfilled: be∣fore whom, two ancient men were now presented; the one had a hollow Cane, in stead of a staffe, the other had none: hee without the staffe, said, Sir, I lent this ho∣nest

man long since, tenne Crownes in good Gold, to doe him a kindnesse: I let him alone a good while, without asking for them, because I would not put him to more trouble to repay mee, then hee had to borrow them of mee; but because I saw him carelesse of the payment, I have asked him more then once or twice for my money•• which hee not onely doth not returne mee, but denies, and sayes, hee never received the tenne Crownes I lent him or that if I did lend them him, hee hath payd mee: I have no witnesses, neyther of the lending, or of the payment: I pray, Sir, will you take his Oath? and if hee will sweare that hee hath payd mee, I give him an acquitance from henceforth, and before God. What say you to this, honest old man with the staffe (quoth Sancho?) Sir, I confesse that hee lent them mee, and hold downe your rod, [The custome in Spaine being, that hee who is to sweare, makes a crosse over the rod of Iustice,] and since hee will have mee sweare, I will, that I have payd him really and truely. The Governour held out his rod, and in the meane time, hee with the staffe, gave it to the other old man to hold, whilest hee was to sweare, as if it had hindred him: so with his hand hee made a crosse over the rod of Justice, saying, 'Twas true that hee had lent him the ten crownes that hee demanded; but that hee had truely restored them to him againe, and that his forgetting of it, made him continually de∣mand them. Which when the Grand Governour saw, hee asked the Creditor what hee could say against his Adversary? Hee said, that surely his debter said true, for hee held him to bee an honest man, and a good Christian, and that it might bee hee had forgotten, how or when hee payd him, and that from henceforward hee would never demand him ought. The debtor tooke his staffe again making an obeysance, was go∣ing out of the judgement place: Which when Sancho saw, and that hee was going with∣out any more adoe, and seeing likewise the others patience, hee nodded with his head on his brest, and clapt the Index of his right hand, upon his nose and eye-browes, and a pretty while was as it were considering, and by and by lifted up his head, and com∣manded that the old man with the staffe should bee brought to him: and Sancho see∣ing him, said, Honest man, give mee that staffe; for I have use for it. With a very good will, quoth the old man••••here 'tis, Sir, and gave it him. Sancho tooke it, and giv∣ing it to the other old man, ••ayd, Goe on Gods name, now you are payd. I Sir, said the old man? why, can this Cane bee worth ten crownes? Yes, said the Grvernour, or else I am the veriest block-head in the world: and now you shall see whether I have a braine or no to governe a whole Kingdome: so hee commanded that before them all the Cane should bee broken, which was done, and in the midst of it, they found the ten crownes.

All of them admired at this and held their Governour for a second Salomon. They asked him how hee gathered that the ten Crownes was in the Cane? He answered, That because hee saw the old man that was to sweare, give his Adversary the staffe whi∣lest hee tooke his oath, and that hee swore hee had given him the money truly and real∣ly; and that when hee had ended his oath, hee demanded his staffe of him againe, it came into his imagination, that within it the money was hidden; whereby it may bee collected, That although many Governors are starke Asses, yet somtimes it plea∣seth God to direct them in their Judgements; for besides, hee had heard the Vicar of his parish tell of such an Accident as this, and that hee had a speciall Memorie, for if it were not for forgetting all hee desired to remember, there were not such a Memory in the Island.

At last one of the old men ashamed, and the other payed his money, they departed, and those that were present were astonish't; and hee that wrote down Sanchoes words, deeds and behaviour, could not resolve, whether hee should set him dawn a foole or a wise-man.

As soone as this sute was ended, there came a woman into the place of Judgement, laying hold strongly on a man clad to see too, like a rich Grazier, who came crying a∣loud, saying, Justice (Lord Governour) Justice; and if I have it not on Earth, I will seeke it in Heaven. Sweete Governor this wicked man met mee on the high-way, and hath abused my body, as if it had beene an un-washed ragge; and, unhappy that I

am, hee hath gotten that that I have kept these three and twenty yeeres, defending it from Moores and Christians, from home-bred ones and strangers; I have beene as hard as a Corke-tree, and kept my selfe as entire as the Salamander in the fire, or as the wooll amongst the Bryars, and this man must come now with a washt hand and handle mee. This is to bee tryed yet (quoth Sancho) whether this gallants hands bee washt or no; and turning to the fellow hee said. What answere you to yonder womans com∣plaint? Who all in a fright answered: Sir (quoth hee) I am a poor Grazier, and deal in swine; a••d this morning I went (with pardon bee it spoken) from this Town to sell four Hoggs, and the tallage and other fees cost me little lesse then they were worth: as I went homeward, by the way I met with this good Matron, and the Devill, the Au∣thour of all mischief, yoaked us together: I gave her sufficient pay, but shee not sa∣tisfied, layd hold on me, and would not let me goe till shee had brought me hither: she sayes I forced her, but I swear shee lies; and this is true every jot of it. Then the Go∣vernour asked him, if hee had any money about him? Who answered him, Yes; that hee had in a leathern purse in his bosome some twenty Crowns in silver. He command∣ed him to take it out, and deliver it just as it was to the Plaintiff; which hee did trem∣bling: The woman received it, and making a thousand Moorish ducks to the company and praying to God for the Governours life and health, that was so charitable to poor Orphans and Maidens, shee went out from the place of Judgement, laying fast hold with both her hands on the purse, though first shee looked whether 'twere silver within or no. Shee was scarce gone, when Sancho said to the Grazier, that had tears standing in his eyes, and his heart going after his purse; Honest fellow, run after yonder wo∣man, and take her purse from her whether shee will or no, and bring it me hither. Hee spoke not to a fool or a deaf man, for straight hee parted like lightning, and went to perform what was commanded him.

All that were present were in suspence and expectation of the end of that suit, and a little after, both man and woman returned together, more fastened and clung together then formerly, shee with her coat up and her purse in her lapp, and hee striving to get it from her, which was not possible, she did so resist, crying out and saying, Justice of God and the World: Look you, Sir Governour, mark the little shame or fear of this despe∣rate man, that in the midest of a congregation, and in the midest of a street, would take away my purse that you commanded him to give me.

And hath hee got it (said the Governour?) Got it (said shee?) I had rather lose my life then the purse: I were a pretty childe yfaith then; you must set other manner of Colts upon me then this poor nasty sneak up: Pincers, Hammers, Beetles, scraping-Tools, shall not get it out of my claws, out of my Lyons paws; they shall rather get one half of my soul out of my flesh. Shee sayes right (quoth the fellow) I yeeld to her; I have no more power, I confesse my force is not sufficient to take it away.

Then said the Governour to the woman; You, Honesty, Virago, give me that purse hither; which shee did: and the Govenor restored it again to the man; and said to the forcible woman, but not forced, Doe you heare, sister? if you had shewed but half your valour and breath to defend your body, that you did for your purse, Hercules his force could not have forced you: get you gon with a Pox; come not into this Island, nor in six leagues round about it, on pain of two hundred lashes: get you gone straight (I say) Make-bate, shamelesse Coozener. The woman was afrighted, and away shee went like a Sheep-biter, and melancholy; and the Governour said to the man, Honest fellow, get you home on Gods name with your Money; and henceforward if you mean not to lose it, pray have no mind to yoak with any body. The man as clownishly as hee could, thanked him, and went his way: The by-standers admired afresh at the judgement and sentences of their new Governour. All which noted by his Chroniclist, was straight written to the Duke, that with much desire expected it. And leave wee honest Sancho here: for his Master hastens us now, that was all in a hurly-burly with Altifidora's Musick.

CHAP. XLVI.

Of the fearfull Low-Bell-Cally horrour, that Don-Quixote received in processe of his Love, by the enamoured Altisidora.

WEe left the Grand Don-Quixote enveloped in the imaginations, which the Musick of the enamoured Damzell Altisidora had caused in him: to bed hee went with them, and as if they had been Fleas, they gave him no rest or quiet, and to these were added those of his torn Stockings: but as time is swift and no stumbling block will stay him, hee went on horse-back on the hours, and the morning came on speedily: Which when Don-Quixote saw, hee left his soft bed, and nothing lazie, put on his Chamoize appa∣rell and his Boots, to hide the hole of his Stockings; hee cast his scarlet Mantle upon him, and put on his head his Hunters Cap of green velvet, laced with silver lace; his Belt hee hung at his shoulder, with his trusty cutting Blade; hee laid hold on a Rosary which hee used still to carrie with him: and with goodly representation and gate, hee went towards an out room, where the Duke and Duchesse were ready drest, and as it were, expecting him: And as hee was to passe thorow a Gallery, Altisidora and the other Damzell her friend, were greedily expecting him: and as soon as Alti∣sidora saw him, shee fained a swounding; and her friend got her into her lap, and in all haste went to unlace her.

Don-Quixote that saw it, comming neer them said, Now I know from whence these fits proceed.

I know not from whence (said her friend) for Altisidora is the healthiest Damzell in all this house, and I never perceived so much as a sigh from her since I have known her: a mischief on all Knights Errant in the world, if all bee so ungratefull: pray Signior Don-Quixote, get you gone; for as long as you are here, this poor Wench will not come to her self.

To which said Don-Quixote, Get me, Mistris, a Lute into my Chamber soon at night, and I'le comfort this afflicted Damzell as well as I can: for in amorous begin∣nings plain dealing is the most approved remedy; so hee went away, because they that passed by should not note or observe him: hee was no sooner gone, when the dismayed Altisidora comming to her self, said to her companion: By all means let him have the Lute; for undoubtedly Don-Quixote will give us Musick, and being his, it cannot bee bad.

Straight they went to let the Duchesse know what passed, and of the Lute that Don-Quixote required: and shee jocund above measure, plotted with the Duke and her Damzells, to play a trick with him that should bee more pleasant then hurtfull; and so with much longing they expected till it should bee night, which came on speedily as the day had done, which the Dukes passed in savory discourse with Don-Quixote: and that day the Duchesse indeed dispatcht a Page of hers, that in the wood acted the en∣chanted Dulcinea's part, to Teresa Panca with her Husband Sancho's Letter, and with the bundle of stuff that hee had left to bee sent her, charging him to bring her a true re∣lation of all that he passed with her.

This done, and it growing towards eleven of the clock at night, Don-Quixote found a Voyall in his Chamber: hee tuned it, opened the window, and heard people walk in the Garden, and having runne over the frets of the Violl, and ordering it as well as hee could, hee spit and cleared his breast, and straight with a voyce somewhat hoarceish, though tunable, hee sung the ensuing Romant, which the same day hee had com∣posed.

a 4.1 THE powerfull force of Love Oft doth un hinge the Soule, Taking for his Instrument Ever carelesse idlenesse.

To use to sow and worke, And to be ever occupi'd, Is the only Antidote 'Gainst the poyson of Loves griefs,

Damozels that live retir'd, With desire of Marriage, Honesty their portion is, And the Trumpet of their praise.

They that Knights Errant be, They that in Court doe live, Court the looser sort of Maids, And the honest make their Wives.

Some Loves are of the East, Loves that are held with Hostesses, That straight set in the West, End when the parting is.

The Love that new come is, Comes to day, to morrow parts, Never leaves the Images, In the Soules imprinted well.

Picture upon Picture drawn, Shews not well, nay leaves no draught•• Where a former beauty is, Second needs must lose the trick.

Painted, Dulcinea, I, Del Toboso, so well have In smoothe Tablet of my Soule, That there's nought can blot her out.

Constancie in Lovers is The part most to bee esteem'd; For which love doth Miracles, And doth raise us up aloft.

Here Don-Quixote ended his Song, which was hearkned to by the Duke, Duchesse, Altisidora, and almost all the folke of the Castle; when suddaily from the top of an o∣pen Turret, there fell heavily down upon Don-Quixotes window, by the leting down of a cord, a great sack of Cats with little Low-bels tyed at their tayles, the noyse of which was so great, and the mewing of the Cats, that although the Dukes were the In∣venters of the Jest, yet they themselves were even afrighted, and Don-Quixote was ti∣morous and amazed; and such was his ill-luck, that two or three of the Cats got in at the window of his Cabin, and leaping up and down on every side, it seem'd to him that there were a Region of Devils in his Chamber; they put out the Candles that were bur∣ning there, and now they sought how to get out: the rising and falling of the Cord,

at which the Low-bells were hanged, ceased not; and most of the people in the Castle, that knew not the certaintie of the businesse, were astonisht.

Don-Quixote got him on his leggs, and laying hold on his sword, began to thrust and flash at the window, crying out aloud; Avaunt yee wicked Enchanters, avaunt yee haggish scum; for I am Don-Quixote de la Mancha, against whom your wicked plots cannot prevaile, or have any power: And turning to the Cats that were in his Cham∣ber, hee strook many blows at them; they got the Iron window, and there got out: but one of them that saw himself so baited with Don-Quixotes slashes, leapt upon his face, and with his nayles and teeth, laid hold on his nose with the paw. Don-Quixote roared out as loud as he could: Which when the Duke and Duchesse heard, and con∣sidering what it might bee, they ran up in all haste to his Chamber, and opening it with a Master key, they found the poor Knight striving with all his might to unroot the Cat from his face: they called for lights, and saw the unequall Combat: The Duke came to part the fray, and Don-Quixote cryed aloud; Let him alone; leave me hand to hand with this Devill, this Witch, this Enchanter; for I'le make him know the diffe∣rence betwixt mee and him; and who Don-Quixote de la Mancha is: But the Cat carelesse of these threats, purred and held fast.

But at length the Duke unloosed him, and flung him out of the window. Don-Quixotes face was sifted over, and his nose was not very sound; yet hee was very angry that they would not let him finish the battell, that was so long drawn out betwixt him and that cursed Enchanter. They made some oyle of Aparice to bee brought, and Altisidora her self, with her fair hands, bound up the wounds; and laying to the clothes shee told him in his eare, All these mis-haps befell thee, flinty Knight, for the sinne of thy hard-hearted obstinacy; and God grant that Sancho thy Squire may forget to whip himself, that they beloved Dulcinea may still bee enchanted, neither mayest thou enjoy her, or come to her bed, at least while I live, that adore thee.

To all this Don-Quixote answered not a word, but fetcht a deep sigh, and straight laid him down on his bed, thanking the Dukes for their courtesie; not for that hee was afraid of that Cattish-Low-Belly Enchanting crue; but that hee was perswaded of their good wills to come to retire him.

The Dukes left him to his rest, and went away sorrowfull for the ill successe of the jest; for they thought that Adventure would not have lighted so heavily on Don-Quixote, which cost him five dayes retirement and keeping his bed, where another Ad∣venture befell him, more pleasing then the former, which the Historian will not recount yet, because of repairing to Sancho Panca, that was very carefull and conceited in his Government.

CHAP. XLVII.

How Sancho demeaned himself in his Government.

THe Story tells us, That Sancho from the Judgement Seat was carried to a sumptuous Palace, where, in a great and spacious Hall was spread a Royall and plentifull Table: The winde-Musick played, and four Pages came in to minister water to him, which hee used with much state: The winde instruments ceased, and Sancho sate him down at the upper end of the Table, because there was no other seat, nor no other Napkin laid but that.

At his elbow their stood a certain personage, that after shewed to bee a Physician, with a Whale-bone rod in his hand: then they took off a rich white Towell, which co∣vered many sorts of Fruits, and a great varietie of severall dishes of meats: One that

served to bee a kinde of Student, said grace; and a Page put a laced Bib under Sancho's chin; and another that plaid the Carvers part, set a dish of fruit before him: but hee had no sooner eaten a bit, when hee with the rod touching the dish, it was very sodainly taken from before him: but the Carver set another dish of meat before him. Sancho would have tasted of it; but before he could touch it, hee with the rod was at it, and a Page set it away with as much celerity as the fruit: which when Sancho saw, hee began to bee in suspence, and beholding all that were by, asked if that meat were to bee eaten like your Childrens Corall: [only to bee toucht, but not swollowed.]

To which hee with the rod made answer; It must bee eaten Sir Governour (quoth hee) according to the use and custome of Governours in other Islands. I Sir, am a Physician, and am Stipended in this Island to bee so to the Governours of it; and I am much more carefull of their health then of mine own; studying night and day, and weighing the complexion of the Governour, that I may hit the better upon the curing him, whensoever hee falls sick: and the principall thing I doe, is, to bee present with him at meats, and to let him eat what I think fit for him, and to take away what I ima∣gine may doe him hurt, or bee naught for his stomack; and therefore I now com∣manded the dish of fruit to bee taken away, because it is too moyst; and the other dish, because it was too hot, and had much spice, that provoked thirst; and hee that drinks much kills and consumes his humidum radicale, wherein life consists. So that (quoth Sancho) you dish of Partridges there roasted, and in my opinion well seasoned, will doe me no hurt at all.

To which (said the Physician) You shall not eat of them Sir, as long as I live.

Why so (quoth Sancho?) the Physician answered, Because Hypocrates our Master, North starre and light of Physick, ••ayes in an Aphorisme of his; Omnis saturatio mala, Perdicis autem pessima: the meanings is, All surfeit is ill, but that of a Partridge is worst of all.

If it bee so (quoth Sancho) pray see, Master Docter, which of all these dishes will bee most wholesome for me and doe me least hurt, and let me eat of that, without banging of it with your Rod: for in good sadnesse I tell you plain, I am ready to dye with hunger; and to deny mee my victuales, in spight of Master Doctor, let him say what hee will, is rather to take away my life then to increase it.

You say true, Sir Governour (quoth the Physician) and therefore my opinion is, that you touch not those boyled Conies, nor that Veal, for it is watrish meat: if it were roasted or powdred? but 'twere much about one. Then (quoth Sancho) that great dish that stands fuming there before, me thinks 'tis an Olla Podrida [a pot of all kinde of flesh sod together,] and by reason of the diversities of things it hath in it, I cannot but meet with something that will doe me good. A••••sit, quoth the Physician, farre bee such an ill thought from us, quoth the Physician: there is nothing in the world that worse nourisheth then an Olla Podrida, fit only for your Prebends and Rectors of Col∣ledges, or for your Country Marriages: Let your Governours Tables bee without them, and let them bee furnished with all prime dainties and quaintnesse: And the reason is, because alwaies, and wheresoever, and by whomsoever, your simple Medicines are in more request then your Compounds; because in Simples there can bee no error; in Compounds there are many, astring the quantity of things, of which they are composed; but that that I know is fit for the Governour to eat at present to pre∣serve his health, and corroborate it, is, some hundred of little hollow Wafers, and some pretty slice or two of Quince-Marmelade, that may settle his stomack, and help his digestion.

When Sancho heard this, hee leaned himself to the back of his chaire, and by fits now and then looked at the Physician, and with a grave voyce, asked him his name, and where hee had studied.

To which hee answered my name, Sir Governour, is Doctor Pedro Rezio de Agnero; I was born in a Town called Tirte a fuera, which is between Caraguel and Almodonar d••l Campo•• upon the right hand, and I took my degree of Doctor in the University of Osuna. To which (quoth Sancho) all inflamed with choller; well Master Doctor

Pedro Rezio of Agnero, borne at Tirte a fuera, a towne on the right hand as wee goe from Caraguel to Almodonar del Campo, Graduated in Osuna, get you straight out of my sight, or I vow by the Sunne, Ile get me a cudgell, and with bangs begin with you, and so forward, till I leave not a Physician in all the Island, at least such as I know to be ignorant; for your wise, prudent and discreete Physicians, I will hug them, and ho∣nor them as Divine persons. I say again, Pedro Rezio, get you gone, or else Ile take the chaire I sit upon, and dash it upon your head, and let me be called in question for it, when I give up my Office, for I can discharge my selfe, by saying that I did God service to kill such a Physician, the Common-wealths-hang-man: and let me eat, or else take your Government again; for an Office that will not afford a man his victuals, is not worth two Beanes.

The Doctor was in an uproare to see the Governour so chollerick, ••and would have gone out of the Hall, but that at that instant a posting-Horne sounded in the Streete, and the Carver peeping out of the Window, turned back saying; A Poste is come from my Lord the Duke, that brings some important dispatch. The Poste came straight in, sweating and amazed, and drawing a Pacquet out of his bosome, hee delivered it to the Governour. Sancho gave it to the Steward, and bad him reade the superscription, which was this. To Don Sancho Panca, Governour of the Island Barataria, to his owne hands, or to his Secretary. Which when Sancho heard, hee said, Who is here my Secretarie? And one that was by answered I Sir; for I can Write and Reade; for I am a Biscayner. With that addition (quoth Sancho) you may well bee Secretarie to the Emperour himself; open your Packet, and let's heare the Contents.

The new-borne Secretarie did so; and having viewed the Contents, said, That it was a businesse to bee imparted in private. Sancho commanded those in the Presence to avoide, and only the Steward and the Carver to remaine, and the rest, with the Physician went out, and presently the Secretarie read the Letter fol∣lowing.

I Am given to understand, Signior Don Sancho Pança, that cer∣tain Enemies of mine, and of that Island, meane one of these nights to give it a furious assault: twere fit you caused watch and ward to be kept, that they take you not unprovided; I know also by faithfull Spies, that foure Persons have entred there the Island disguised to kill you, for they stand much in awe of your abilities: have a care to see who comes to speake to you, and eate of nothing that shall be presented unto you; I will be carefull to send you ayd, if you be in necessity, and in the rest I hope you will proceede, as is expected from your understand∣ing. From hence the 4 of August, at foure of the clock in the morning.

Your Friend, The Duke.

Sancho was astonisht, and the standers by seemed to bee no otherwise; and tur∣ning to the Steward he said, Ile tell you what is fit to bee done, and that presently; Clap mee Doctor Rezio into dungeon; for if any body kill mee, it is hee, and with so vile and triviall a death as hunger: Mee thinks too, said the Carver, you should doe well to eat nothing of all this meat upon the Table; for this dinner was presented by

Nunnes, and it is an old saying, The neerer the Church the farther from God. I grant yee so (quoth Sancho) and therefore for the present give me only a peece of bread, and some four pound of grapes; for in them there can bee no poyson, and indeed I cannot live without eating: for if wee must provide our selves for these warrs that threaten us, 'twere fit to bee well victualed; for the guts uphold the heart, and not the heart the guts. And you Secretary, answer my Lord the Duke, tell him that his commands shall be fullfilled most punctually; & commend me to the Duchess, and say that I request her, that she forget not to send my letter by a speciall Messenger, & likewise the fardell to my Wife Teresa, Panca, and in it shee shall doe me a particular favour, and I will bee care∣full to serve her to the uttermost of my power: And by the way you may clap in a commendation to my Master, Signior Don-Quixote de la Mancha, that hee may see I am thankfull for his bread: And you like a good Secretary, and an honest Biscayner, may in the rest add what you will, or shall think fitting. And take away here; and yet leave me something to eat; and let these Spies, these Murderers and Enchanters come upon my and my Island, Ile deal with them well enough.

And now a Page came in, saying; Here's a Husbandman, a suiter, that would speak with your Honour in a businesse of importance, as hee sayes, 'Tis a strange thing of these suiters (quoth Sancho:) Is it possible they should bee so foolish as not to per∣ceive that these bee not times for them to negotiate in? belike wee that Govern, wee that are Judges, are not men of flesh and blood; and is it not fit that wee should ease our selves, when necessity requires, except they think wee should bee made of mar∣ble? Verily, and in my Conscience, if my Government last (as I have a glimmering it will not) Ile lay one of these fellows up for it. Well, bid this honest fellow come in for this once; but see first that hee bee none of the Spies, or any of my murderers. No Sir (quoth the Page) for hee is a very dull soul to see to: either I know little, or hee hath no more harme then a piece of good bread. There's no fearing him (said the Ste∣ward) for wee all are here.

Carver (quoth Sancho) were it not possible, now that Doctor Rezio is not here, that I might eat a bit of some substantiall meat though it were but a crust and an onion? To night at Supper (quoth the Carver) your Dinner shall bee amended, and your Ho∣nour shall bee satisfied. God grant it (quoth Sancho:) and now the Husbandman came in, one of a very goodly presence, and that you might see a thousand miles off, was a good hurtlesse soul. The first thing that he said was, Which is my Lord the Governor? Who should it bee (quoth the Secretary) but hee that sits there in the Chair? I humble my self to his presence then (quoth the Husbandman) and kneeling on his knees, desired his hand to kiss. Sancho denied it, and commanded him to rise, and to say what hee would have. The Husbandman did so, and said:

I Sir, am a Husbandman, born in Miguel Turra, a Town some two leagues from Cindercall. Here's another Tirte a fuera, quoth Sancho: Say on Brother, for let me tell you, I know the place very well, and it is not farre from my Town. The Businesse Sir, is this, quoth the Husbandman; I by Gods blessing, and the full consent of the Ca∣tholike Romane Church, am Married, have two Sonnes that bee Students; the yong∣est studies to bee Bachelor, and the eldest to bee Master. I am a widdower, for my Wife dyed, or to say trulier, a wicked Physician killed her, that purged her when shee was great with Childe: and if it had pleased God that shee had been delivered, and it had been a Sonne. I would have set him to studie to have been Doctor, that hee might not have envied his Brothers, the Bachelor and Master. So that (quoth Sancho) if your Wife had not been dead, or if they had not killed her, you had not now been a Widdower? No Sir, by no means (quoth the Husbandman.) Wee are much the neerer (quoth Sancho:) forward brother, 'tis time to sleep, have you any more to say? I say (quoth the Husbandman) that my Sonne that was to bee the Bachelor, fell in love in the same Town with a Maiden, called Clara Perlerina, Daughter to An∣drew Perlerina a rich Farmer: and this name of Perlerina's comes not to them by any off-spring, or discent, but that all of this race and name are Palsigiste; and to better the name, they were called Perlerina's; and indeed the Maid is as fair as an Orientall

Pearl: and looking upon her right side, shee is like a flower in the field; but on her left, otherwise; for there shee wants an eye, that flew out of her head with the small-pox: and though shee have many holes left still in her face, many say that love her well, that those are not holes, but graves where her Lovers souls are buried.

Shee is so cleanly, that because shee will not bewray her face, shee weares her nose (as you would say) tucked up, as if it fledd from her mouth, and for all that, it be∣comes her passing well; for shee hath a wide mouth: and were it not that shee wan∣ted tenne or twelve teeth and her grinders, shee might passe, and set a marke for the well-favouredst to come to. For her lippes, I say nothing, for they are so thinne and delicate that if they did use to reele lippes, they might make a skeine of hers: but be∣cause they are of a more different colour then wee see ordinarily in lippes, they are miraculous; for they are Jaspered with blue and greene, and Berengena-coloured, and under correction, Sir Governour, since I paint out the parts of her that I meane to make my daughter so exactly, it is a signe I love her, and that I doe not dislike her.

Paint what you will (quoth Sancho) for I recreate my selfe with the painting: and if I had dined, there were no better dish of fruit to me then your picture.

I humbly thanke you, sir, for that (quoth the Husbandman:) but time will come that I may bee thankefull, if I bee not now, and if I should paint out to you her gentle∣nesse, and the height of her body, 'twould admire you: but that cannot bee, for shee is crooked, her knees and her mouth meet, and for all that 'tis well seene, that if shee could stand upright, shee would touch the roofe with her head, and long ere this, shee would have given her hand to my sonne to bee his spouse, but that shee cannot stretch it out, 'tis so knotted and crumpled up; for all that her goodnesse and good shape ap∣peares in her long and guttured nailes.

'Tis very well (quoth Sancho) and make account, Brother, that now you have pain∣ted her from head to foot. What would you now? come to the matter without fetches, or lanes, or digressions, or additions. I would desire you (quoth the Hus∣bandman) to give mee a Letter of favour to my brother by marriage, her father; to desire him to consent that this marriage may goe forward, since our fortunes bee equall and our births; for to say true, Sir Governour, my sonne is possessed with the Devill, and there's not a day passeth, but the wicked spirits torment him, and once falling in the fire, hath mad his face as wrinkled as a piece of parchment, and his eyes are some∣what bleered and running, and hee is as soft conditioned as an Angell; for if it were not for buffeting of himselfe now and then, hee were a very Saint.

Will you any thing else, honest friend, quoth Sancho? One thing more (quoth hee) but that I dare not tell it; but let it out, it shall not rotte in my brest, speed how it will. I desire, Sir, that you would give mee three hundred, or six hundred Dukats to helpe my Bachelors portion, I meane to helpe him to furnish his house, for they will live by themselves, without being subject to the impertinencies of fathers in Lawe.

Will you have any thing else (quoth Sancho?) and bee not abashed or ashamed to tell it. No truly (quoth the Husbandman:) and hee had scarce said this, when the Governor rising up, layd hold on the chayre that hee sat on, saying; I vow to you good∣man splay-foot, unmannerly clown, if you goe not strait and hide your selfe out of my presence, Ile breake your head with this chayre here ye whoor-son Rascall, the Devills painter: commest thou at this time of day to aske mee sixe hundred Ducats? And where have I them, stinkard? and if I had them, why should I give them thee, sottish knave? What a poxe care I for Miguel Turra, or all the linage of the Perlerinas! Get thee out of my sight or I sweare by my Lord the Dukes life, that Ile doe as I have said, Thou art not of Miguel Turra, but some crafty knave, sent from hell to tempt mee. Tell mee, desperate man! 'tis not yet a day and a halfe since I came to the Government: how wouldst thou have mee have sixe hundreth Ducats? The Carver made signes to the Husbandman, to get him out of the Hall; who did so like a sheep∣byter, and to see to very fearfull, lest the Governour should execute his choller on him: for the cunning knave very well knew what belonged to his part: but leave wee Sancho to his choller, and peace bee in the Quire, and returne we to Don-Quixote;

for we left his face bound up, and dressed for his Cattish wounds, of which hee was not sound in eight dayes: in one of which this befell him, that Cid Hamete promiseth to recount with all the punctualitie, and truth that hee usually doth in the most triviall matters of this History.

CHAP. XLVIII.

What hapned to Don-Quixote with Donna Rodriguez, the Duchesses Waiting-woman; with other successes, whorthy to bee written, and had in eternall remembrance.

THe ill-wounded Don-Quixote was exceeding musty and melan∣choly, with his face bound up, and scarred, not by the hand of God, but by the nayles of a Cat (misfortunes annexed to Knight Errantry) sixe dayes past ere hee came abroad: in one of which, in a night, when hee was awake and watching, thinking upon his mishaps, and his being persecuted by Altisidora, hee perceived that some body opened his Chamber door with a Key; and straight hee imagined that the inamored Damzell came to set upon his honestie, and to put him to the hazzard of forgoing his loyalty due to his Mistris Dulcinea del Toboso. No said hee, beleeving in his imagination, and this so lowd that hee might easily bee heard, no beauty in the world shall make mee leave her that is graved and stamped in the midst of my heart, and in my innermost entrailes: bee thou, Mistris mine, either transformed into an Onion-like husband-woman, or into a Nimph of the Golden Tagus, weaving webs made of silke and gold twist: bee thou in Merlins power, or in Montesino's, where ere they will have thee: for wheresoever thou art, thou art mine; and wheresoever I am, I will bee thine. His speech ended, and the door opened both together.

Up hee stood upon the bed, wrapped from head to foot in a quilt of yellow Sattin, a woollen cap upon his head, his face and Mustachos bound up: his face for his scrat∣ches; his Mustachoes, because they should not dismay or fall down: in which posture, hee lookt like the strangest aparition, that can bee imagined.

Hee nayled his very eyes upon the door: and whereas hee thought to have seen the vanquished and pittifull Altisidora enter, hee saw that it was a most reverend Matron, with a long white gathered Stole, so long that it did cover and bemantle her from head to foot: betwixt her left hand fingers shee had halfe a Candle lighted, and with her right hand shee shaddowed her selfe, to keep the light from her eyes, which where hid with a great payre of spectacles: shee came treading softly, and moving her feet gently.

Don-Quixote from his Watch-towre beheld her: and when hee saw her furniture, and noted her silence, hee thought it had beene some Hagge or Magician, which came in that shape to doe him some shrewd turne; and hee beganne apace to blesse him∣selfe.

The Vision came somewhat neeeer: but being in the midst of the Chamber, shee lifted up her eyes, and saw with what haste Don-Quixote was crossing himselfe; as if hee were afraid to see such a shape; shee was no lesse affrighted with his: for seeing him so lanke, and yellow in the quilt, and with the bends that dis-figured him, shee cryed out, saying, Jesus, What's this? and with the sodaine fright, the Candle dropt out of her hand, and being in the darke, shee turned her back to bee gone; but for feare stumbled upon her Coats, and had a sound fall.

Don-Quixote timorous, began to say, I conjure thee, Apparition! Or whatso'ere thou art, to tell me who thou art, and what thou wilt have with mee: If thou bee'st a soule in Purgatory, tell mee, and I will doe what I am able for thee: for I am a Ca∣tholike Christian, and love to doe good to all the world: for, for this cause I tooke upon mee the order of Knight Errant, which I professe (whose practice extends even to doe good to the soules in Purgatorie.) The broken Matron that heard her selfe thus conjured, by her feare ghessed at Don-Quixote, and with a low and pittifull voice shee answered him, Signior Don-Quixote, (if you bee hee I meane) I am no Apparition, nor Vision, nor soule of Purgatory, as you have thought: but Donna Rodriguez, my Lady the Duchesses honour'd Matron, that come to you with a case of necessity of those that you usually give redresse to.

Tell me, Donna Rodriguez (quoth Don-Quixote) come you happily about some peece of brokage? For let mee tell you, if you doe, there's no good to bee done with mee for any body, thanks to the peerelesse Beauty of my Mistris Dulcinea del Toboso: So that let me tell you, Donna Rodriguez, setting aside all amorous messages, you may goe light your candle again, and return and impart what you will command me, and any thing you please, excepting, I say, all kinde of inciting nicities. I Sir, messages from any body? You know not me yfaith: I am not so stale yet, that I should fall to those triflles, for, God be praised, I have life and flesh, and all my teeth and my grinders in my mouth, except some few that the Catarrs, which are so common in this Country of Aragon, have usurped on: but stay a little Sir, Ile goe out and light my Candle and, Ile come in an instant, and relate my griefs to you, as to the Redressor of all such like in the world: And so without staying for an answer, shee left the rooms, where Don-Quixote remained still and pensative expecting her: but straight a thousand imagina∣tions came into his minde, touching this new Adventure, and hee thought it would bee very ill done, or worse imagined, to endanger the breach of his vowed loyalty to his Mistris, and said to himself; Who knows whether the Devill, that is so subtil and crafty, may deceive mee now with this Matron, which hee hath not been able to doe with Empresses, Queens, Duchesses, Marquesses? and I have heard say often, by many well experienced men, that hee will rather make a man sinne with a foul then a fair one: and who knows whether this privacie, this oportunitie & silence may not awake my de∣sires now sleeping? and that now in my old age I may fall, where I never stumbled in such like chances? 'tis better fly then try the combat: but sure I am out of my wits, since I talk thus idlely; and sure it is not possible that a white-stoled lank-spectacled Matron should moove or stirre up a lascivious thought in the ungodliest brest in the world: Is there any Matron in the world that hath soft flesh? Is there any that is not foolish, nice, and coy? Avaunt then, you Matronly troops, un∣profitable for mans delight.

How well did that Lady, of whom it was observed, that shee had two Matrons Statue-wayes of wood, with their Spectacles and Pin-pillows at the end of her Seat of State, as if they had been at work? and those Statues served as well to authorize her room, as if they had been reall Matrons. And this said, hee flung from the Bed to have shut the door, and not have let Mistris Rodriguez come in: but as hee was going to doe it, shee was come back with her candle lighted of white wax: and when shee saw Don Quixote neer her, wrapped in his Quilt, his Bends, his wollen Cap, and a thick cloth about his neck, shee began to fear again: and stepping two or three steps back∣ward, shee asked, Am I safe, Sir Knight? for I hold it not a very honest signe, that you are up from your Bed. 'Twere fit I asked that question of you (quoth Don-Quixote;) and therefore let me know, whether I shall be free from ravishing. By whom (quoth she?) By you (said Don-Quixote;) for neither am I of marble, or you of brasse; neither is it now ten a clock at day time, but mid-night and something more, as I think: and wee are in a more secret and close couch then the Cave, in which the bold trayterous Aeneas enjoyed the fair and pitying Dido: but give me your hand Mistris, and Ile have no other assurance then mine own continencie and warinesse: And in saying this, hee kissed her right hand; and shee layd hold of his, which shee gave him with the same solemnitie.

Here Cid Hamete makes a parenthesis, and earnestly protesteth he would have given the best coat he had, to have seen them both go so joyned and linked from the Chamber dore to the bed.

In fine, Don-Quixote went to his Bed, and Donna Rodriguez sate downe in a Chayre a pretty way from it, without taking off her spectacles, or setting downe the Candle.

Don-Quixote crowded up together, and covered himselfe all over, leaving no∣thing but his face uncovered: So both of them beeing quiet; the first that broke off their silence was Don-Quixote, saying. Now, Mistrisse Rodriguez, you may un∣rip your selfe, and dis-mawe all that you have in your troubled Heart, and grie∣ved Entrailes, which shall bee heard by my chaste Eares, and relieved with my pious Workes.

I beleeve no lesse said the Matron: for from your gentle and pleasing presence, there could not be but a Christian answere expected.

Thus then it is, Signior Don-Quixote, that though you see mee set in this Chaire, and in the midst of the Kingdome of Aragon, in the habit of a poore and way-beaten Matron; I was borne in the Asturias [A barcen Mountainous countrey in Spaine, like our Wales] and Kingdome of Oniedo, and of a linage allied to the best of that Province: but my hard fortune, and my fathers lavishing, that grew to bee a Begger before his time (God knowes how) brought mee to the Court at Madrid, where very quietly, and to avoid other inconveniencies, my friends placed mee to serve as a Chamber-maid to a worthy Ladie; and though I say it, that for white-worke, hemming and stitching, I was never yet put downe in all my life. My friends left mee at service, and returned homeward, and not long after went (in likelyhood) to heaven, for they were wonderfull good Catholike Christians; thus was I an Orphan, and stinted to the mise∣rable wages and hard allowance that at Court is given to such kinde of servants: and at that time (I not giving any occasion thereto) a Squire of the house fell in love with mee, somewhat an elderly man, big-bearded and personable, and above all, as good a Gentleman as the King, for hee was of the Mountaines; wee kept not our loves so close but that they came to my Ladies eares; who without any more adoe, with full con∣of our Holy Mother the Catholique Romane Church, caused us to bee married, by sent which Matrimonie to end my good fortune, if I had any; I had a Daughter, if I had any, I say it was ended, not that I dyed of Childe-bed, for I mis-carried not; but that my Husband not long after dyed of a fright hee had, and had I now time to tell you of it, 'twould admire you: And with this shee beganne to weepe most tenderly, and said; Pardon mee, Signior Don-Quixote, for I cannot doe withall; as often as I remember my unfortunate Husband, the Teares trickle downe mine eyes. Lord God! and how stately hee would carry my Lady behinde him, upon a lusty black Mule, as black as Jeat: For then they used no Coaches nor hand-Chayres, as now (they say they doe) and then Gentlewomen rode behinde their Squires: And I cannot but tell you this Tale, that you may see the punctualnesse and good manners of my Husband.

As hee was going in at Saint Iaques his streete in Madrid, which was somewhat narrow, a Judge of the Court, with two Sargeants before him, was comming out; and as soon as my honest Squire saw him, hee turned his Mules reins, making shew as if hee would wait upon him: My Lady that rode behinde, asked him softly, What doest thou knave? Do'st not see that I am here? The Judge very mannerly laid hold on his rein, and said, Keep your way Sir: for it were fitter for me to wait upon my Lady Casilda; (for that was my Ladies name.) Yet still my Husband was earnest with his Cap in his hand, and would have waited on the Judge: which when my Lady saw, full of wrath and anger, shee pulled out a great Pin; or rather, as I beleeve, a little Bodkin out of her Estoises, and thrust him into the rump; insomuch that my Hus∣band cryed out, and wrigling his body, my Ladie and hee came to the ground to∣gether.

Two of her Lackies came to raise her; and the Judge and the Sergeants likewise:

the Gate of Guadalaxara was in an uproar, I mean the idle people up and down there.

My Lady was faine to walk on foot, and my Husband got him to a Barbers house, saying, that hee was runne quite thorow and thorow. This mannerlynesse of my Hus∣bands was bruted up and down; insomuch, that the very Boyes in the streets mocked him: so that for this, and because too hee was somewhat pore-blinde, my Lady the Duchesse turned him away; for grief of which, I verily beleeve hee dyed, and I remain∣ed Widow, and succourlesse, with a childe to boot, that went on increasing in beauty like the foam of the Sea.

Finally, for as much as I had the report of an excellent Seamstresse, my Ladie the Duchesse that was newly Married to my Lord the Duke, would needs bring me with her here to this Kingdome of Aragon, together with my Daughter; where in processe of time shee grew up, and with her all the prettinesse that could bee: shee sings like a Larke; shee danceth in company as quick as thought; and alone like a cast-a-way; shee writes and reads like a School-master; and casts Account like a Usurer: for her cleanlinesse I say nothing; the water that runns is not cleaner: and shee is now (if I forget not) about sixteen yeers old, five moneths, and three dayes, one or two more or lesse. In fine, a rich Farmers Sonne fell in love with my Daughter, one that liveth in one of my Lord the Dukes Villages, not farre from hence: In effect, I know not how, but they met, and under colour of Marriage hee mocked my Daughter, and will not keep his promise, and though the Duke know it: for I have complained to him often of it, and beseeched him, to command the young Farmer to Marry my Daughter: but hee hath a Trades-mans eares, and will not heare me: the reason is, because the cooz∣ning knaves father is rich, and lends him money, and lets him have credit every foot to goe on with his jugling, and will by no means discontent or trouble him.

I beseech you Sir therefore, to take upon you the redressing of this wrong, either by intreaties, or by force; since, as all the world sayes, you were borne to right wrongs, and protect the needie: Consider that my Daughter is an Orphan; consider her gen∣tlenesse, her youth, and all the good parts that I have told you of; for in my soul and conscience, amongst all the Damzells that my Lord hath, there is none worthy to untye her shooe: and one of them they call Altisidora, which is the lustiest and gallantest, in comparison of my Daughter is no body: For let me tell you Sir, all is not gold that glisters; for this Altisidora is more bold then beauteous; more gamesome then re∣tired: besides, shee is not very sound; for shee hath a certain breath that anoyes, and you cannot indure her to stand by you a moment: and my Ladie the Duchesse too: but Mum; they say walls have eares.

What ayles my Ladie Duchesse, by your life, Mistris Rodriguez (quoth Don-Quixote?) By that (said shee) I cannot but answer you with all truth.

Doe you mark Sir (quoth shee) that beauty of my Ladies, that smoothnesse of her face, that is like a polisht sword, those two cheeks of Milk and Vermilion, in one of which shee hath the Sunne, in the other the Moon, and that state with which shee goes, trampling and despising the ground, as if shee went dealing of health up and down? Know Sir, that first shee may thank God for it, and next, two issues that shee hath in both her legs, at which all the ill humour is let out, of which Physicians say shee is full.

Saint Mary (quoth Don-Quixote) and is it possible that my Lady the Duchesse hath such out-lets? I should not have beleeved it if bare-foot Fryers had told me so: but since Donna Rodriguez tells me, it is so: but from such issues, and such places, no ill humour, but liquid Amber is•• distilled: I now verily beleeve that this making of issues is a thing very necessarie for the health.

Scarce had Don-Quixote ended this speech, when at one pluck the Chamber door was opened; and with the sodain fright Donna Rodriguez Candle fell out of her hand, and the room was as dark as Pitch; straight the Matron felt that they layd hands upon her throat so hard, that they gave her no time to yawle: and one of them very quickly lifting up her coats, with a slipper (in likelihood) began to give her so many jerks, that

'twas pittie: and though Don-Quixote had some compassion on her, yet hee stirred not from his bed, and knew not what might bee the matter: quiet was hee, and silent, fearing lest the whipping task and tawing might light upon him, and his fear was not needlesse: for when the silent executioners had left the Matron well curried (who durst not c••y out) they came to Don-Quixote, and unwrapping him from the Sheet and the Quilt, they pinched him so hard and so often, that he could but goe to buffets to defend himself: and all this passed in admirable silence; the combat lasted some half an hour; the apparitions vanished; Donna Rodrignez tucked up her Coats, and bewailing her mishap, got her out of the door, not speaking a word to Don-Quixote; who heavy and all to bee pinched, sad and pensative, remained alone; where wee will leave him desirous to know who was the perverse Enchanter that had so drest him: But that shall be told in due time; for Sancho Panca calls us, and the Decorum of this Historie.

CHAP. XLIX.

What hapned to Sancho in walking the Round in his Island.

WEe left the famous Governour moody & angry with the knavish Hus∣bandman-painter: who, instructed by the Steward, and the Steward by the Duke; all made sport with Sancho: but hee held them all tack, though a Fool, a Dullard, and a Block; and said to those a∣bout him, and to Doctor Pedro Rezio; for as soon as hee had ended the secret of the Dukes Letter, hee came into the Hall again.

Certainly (said hee) I think now Judges and Governours had need bee made of Brasse, that they may have no feeling of the importunities of suitors, that would, that at all hours and all times they should give them audience and dispatch them, intending only their businesse; let them have never so much of their own: and if the poor Judge hear them not, or dispatch them not; either because hee cannot, or because they come not in a fit time to have audience; straight they back-bite and curse him, gnaw his bones, and unbury his Ancestors. Oh foolish Suiter and idle, make not such haste; stay for a fit season and conjuncture to negotiate in; come not at dinner time or bed time: for Judges are flesh and blood, and must satisfie nature, except it bee I, that give my self nothing to eat, thanks to Master Doctor Pedro Rezio Tirte a fuera here present, that would have me die for hunger, and yet stands in it, that this death is life; such a life God grant him and all his profession; I mean such ill Physicians; for the good deserve Lawrell and Palme.

All that knew Sancho, admired him, when they heard him speak so elegantly, and knew not to what they should attribute it, except it were that Offices and great charges doe eythet season the understanding, or altogether dull it.

Finally, the Doctor Pedro Rezio Agnero de Tirte a fuera, promised him hee should sup that night, though hee exceeded all Hypocrates his Aphorismes.

With this the Governour was well pleased, and very greedily expected the com∣ming of the night and supper time, and though time (as hee thought) stood still, not moving a jot from his place, yet at length it came, so longed for by him; and hee had to supper a cold mince-meat of Beef and Onions, with a Calves foot somewhat stale, and fell to as contentedly as if they had given him a God-wit of Milan, or a Pheasant of Rome, or Veale of Sorrentum, or Partridges of Moron, or Geese of Lanaxos: and in the midest of his Supper, hee turned to the Doctor, and said, Look yee, Master Doctor, hence-forward never care to give me dainties, or exquisite meats to eat; for you will pluck my stomack quite off the hinges, which is used only to Goat, Beef and

Bacon, Pork and Turneps, and Onions: and if you come to me with your Court dishes, they make my stomack squeamish, and many times I loath um.

Carver, let it bee your care to provide me a good Olla podrida, and the more podrida it is, the better, and more favorie; and in your Olla's you may boil and ballast in what you will, so it bee victuals, and I will bee mindefull of you, and make you amends one day: and let no man play the fool with mee; for either wee are, or wee are not: Let's bee merry and wife; when the Sunne shines, hee shines upon all: Ile Govern this Island without looking my due, or taking Bribes; and therefore let all the world bee watchfull, and look to their bolt, for I give um to understand, there's Rods in Pisse for them; and if they put me to it, they shall see wonders: I, I, cover your selves with Honey, and you shall see the Flies will eat you.

Truly, Sir Governour (quoth the Carver) you have reason in all you speak; and let me promise you in the behalf of all the Islanders of this Island, that they will serve you with all diligence, love, and good will; for the sweet and milde kinde of Govern∣ing that hitherto in the beginning you have used, makes them neither doe nor speak ought that may redound to your contempt.

I beleeve it (quoth Sancho) and they were very Asses if they did or thought other∣wise: and therefore let me say again, Let there bee a care had for the maintenance of my Person and Dapples, which is very important, and to the matter: And so when 'tis time to walk the Round, let us goe; for my purpose is, to cleanse this Island from all kinde of filth, Vagamunds, lazie and masterlesse persons: for know friends, that slothfull and idle people in a Common-wealth, are the same that Drones in Hives, that eate the Honey which the labouring Bees make. I purpose to cherish the Husbandman, and to grant the Gentlemen their preeminencies, to reward the Virtuous, and above all, to have Religion in reverence, and to honour Religious persons.

What think yee of this friends? Say I ought? or doe I talk idlely? So well Sir (said the Steward) that I wonder to see that a man so without learning as you (for I think you cannot skill of a letter) should speak such sentences and instructions, so con∣trary to what was expected from your wit by all that sent you, and by all us that came with you. Every day wee see novelties in the world, jests turn'd to earnest, and those that mock are mocked at.

Well, it was night, and the Governour supped, with Master Doctor Rezio's licence. They made ready to walk the Round, the Steward, the Secretary, and Carver went with him, and the Chroniclist, that was carefull to keep a Register of his actions, toge∣ther with Constables and Notaries; so many, that they might well make a reasonable Squadron. Sancho went in the midest of them with his Rod of Justice, which was the only chief fight: and when they had walk•• some few streets of the Town, they heard a noyse of flashing, thither they made, and found that they were two men only that were together by the eares; who seeing the Justice comming, stood still, and the one of them said; Here for God and the King, shall I bee suffered to bee robbed in the midest of a Town? and that the midest of the streets bee made the high-way?

Softly honest friend (quoth Sancho) and tell me what's the reason of this fray, for I am the Governour.

The other, his contrary, said, Sir Governour, Ile tell you briefly the matter. You shall understand Sir, that this Gentleman even now at a Gaming-house here over the way, got a thousand Ry••lls (God knows by what tricks) and I being present judged many a doubtfull cast on his side, contrary to what my conscience told me: he came away a winner, and when I thought hee would have given me a Pistolet at least for re∣compence, according to the use and custome of giving to men of my fashion, which stand by upon all occasions, to order differences and to take up quarrells: [Barato sig∣nifies originally cheap; but amongst Gamesters dar Barato is when a Gamester by way of courtesie gives something to a stander by: and this in Spain is so frequent, that from the King to the Begger all both give and take this Barato:] hee pursed up the money and got him out of the house: I came hastily after him, yet with courteous language in∣treated him to give me only a matter of four shillings, since hee knew me to bee a good

fellow, and that I had no other kinde of trade or living; for my friends brought mee up to nothing, nor left me nothing; and this cunning skab, no more Thief then Cacus, nor lesse Cheater then Andradilla [Some famous Cheater in Spain,] would give mee but two shillings; so you may see Sir Governour how shamelesse and void of con∣science hee is: But yfaith if you had not come, I would have made him vomit out his winning, and hee should have known how many pounds hee had had in the scale.

What say you to this (quoth Sancho?) And the other answered, That true it was which his contrary had said, that hee would give him but two shillings, because hee had often before given him; and they that expect what shall be given them in courtesie, must bee mannerly, and take any thing that is given them, in good part, and without stand∣ing upon termes with the winner, except they knew him to bee a Cheater, and that his money was unlawfully gotten; and that it might bee seen that hee for his part was honest, and not a Theef, as the other said, there was no greater signe then his giving so little; for your Cheaters are alwaies large Tributaries to the lookers on that know them.

Hee saies true (quoth the Steward) and therefore what is your pleasure, Sir, to doe with these men?

Marry thus (quoth Sancho) You Sir, that have wonne, honest, or Knave, or indiffe∣rent, give your Hackster here presently a hundred Ryalls; besides, you shall disburse thirty more for the poor of the prison. And you, Sir, that have neither Trade nor Living, and live odly in this Island, take your hundred Ryalls, and by to morrow get you out of the Island, and I banish you for tenn yeers, on pain, that if you break this Order, you accomplish it in another life, by being hanged upon a Gybbet by me, or at least, by the Hang-man, by my command.

The one disbursed, and the other received; this went out of the Island, and that home to his house: And the Governour that remained, said, Well, it shall cost mee a fall, but I will put down these Gaming-houses; for I have a kinde of glimpse that they are very prejudiciall.

This at least (quoth one of the Notaries) you cannot remove, because it belongs to a man of quality, and hee loseth a great deal more at the yeers end then hee gets by his Cards, Against other petty Gamesters you may shew your authority; for they doe more mischief, and conceal more abuses, then Gentlemen of qualities houses, where your famous Cheaters dare not use their slights; and since the vice of play hath turned to so common a practice, 'tis better to suffer it in houses of fashion, then in poor mens where they catch a poor snake, and from midnight till morning flay him quick.

Well Notary (quoth Sancho) there's much to bee said in this case. And now one of the Sergeants Yeomen came with a Youth which hee had laid fast hold on, and said; Sir, this Youth came towards us, and as hee had a glimpse of the Justice, hee turned his back, and began to scud away like a Dear, a signe hee is some Delinquent; I ranne after him, and had it not been that hee stumbled and fell, I had never over-taken him.

Why ranst thou fellow (quoth Sancho?) To which the young man answered, Sir, to avoid the many questions that your Constables use to ask. What trade are you of? a Weaver (said hee.) And what weave you? Iron pegs for Launces, with your Wor∣ships good leave. You are a pleasant companion Sir, and you presume to play the Jester: 'tis very well. And whither went you now? To take the Ayre Sir. And where in this Island would you have taken the Ayre? Where it blows. Good, you answer to the purpose Youth; make account then that I am the Ayre, and that I blow a stern on you, and steer you to the prison. Goe to, lay hold on him, carry him; for to night Ile make him sleep without Ayre in the prison. I protest (quoth the Youth) you shall as soon make me King, as make me sleep this night in Prison. Why (quoth Sancho) have not I power to apprehend thee, and free thee when I please? For all your power (said the Youth) you shall not make me sleep this night in Prison. No? you shall see (quoth Sancho:) Carry him presently where hee shall see his error; and lest the Jaylor

should for a bribe befriend him, Ile lay a penalty of two thousand Crownes upon him, if he let thee stirre a foot out of the prison. All this is needlesse, said the Youth: the businesse is, All the world shall not make me sleepe this night in prison. Tell mee, fiend, quoth Sancho, hast thou some Angell to free thee, or take thy shackles off that I meane to have clapped on thee? Well, Sir, (quoth the Youth very pleasantly) let's come to reason, and to the matter. Suppose you command mee to bee carried to prison, and that I have shackles and chaines put upon mee and that I bee put into a dungeon, and that there bee extraordinary penalties inflicted upon the Jaylor if hee let mee out: for all that, if I meane not to sleepe, or to joyne my eye-lids together all night; Can you with all your Authority make mee sleepe against my will?

No indeed (said the Secretarie) the fellow is in the right: so that (quoth Sancho) your forbearing to sleepe, is onely to have your owne will, but not to contradict mine. No otherwise, Sir, (quoth the Youth) not so much as in thought.

Well, God bee with you, (quoth Sancho) get you home to bed, and God send you good rest, I meane not to disturbe you; but let mee advise you, that henceforward you bee not so conceited with the Justice; for you may meet with one that will clap your wit to your noddle.

The yong man went his way, and the Governour went on with his Rounding, and a while after there came two Yeomen with a man in hold, and said, Sir, heres one that seemes to bee a man, but is none, but a woman, and not ill-favoured, clad in a mans habit. Then they set two or three Lanthornes to his face, and perceived a wo∣mans face, to look to, of about sixteen yeers of age; her haire plaited up with a cawle of Gold and greene silke, as faire as a thousand Pearles: they beheld her all over, and saw that shee had on her a paire of Carnation silke stockins, and white Taffata garters frin∣ged with gold, and embroidered with pearle; her long breeches were of cloth of gold, and the ground-worke greene, with a loose Cassocke or Jerkin of the same, opened on both sides, under which shee had also a Doublet of cloth of gold, the ground white: her shooes were white mens shooes, shee had no sword, but a very faire hatched Dagger, with many rings upon her fingers.

Finally, shee pleased them all very well, but none of them knew her. The Inha∣bitants of the place said, they could not ghesse who shee should bee; and they that were the contrivers of the trickes against Sancho, were those that most seemed to ad∣mire, because that accident and chance was not purposed by them: so they were in suspence, to see what would bee the issue of it.

Sancho was amazed at the maidens beautie, and hee askt her who shee was, whi∣ther shee would, and what occasion had mooved her to clad her selfe in that habit?

Shee, with her eyes fixt upon the earth, most shamefac'dly answered.

Sir, I cannot tell you in publike, what concerns mee so much to bee kept secret: onely this let mee tell you; I am no theefe nor malefactor, but an unhappie maid, forced by some jealousies to breake the Decorum due to my honesty. Which when the Ste∣ward heard, hee said to Sancho; Sir, command the company aside, that this Gentlewo∣man may tell her tale without being abashed. The Governour gave his command, and all of them went a side, but the Steward, the Carver, and Secretary. Being thus pri∣vate, the maid proceeded, saying;

I, Sirs, am daughter to Pedro Perez Mazorca, Farmer of this towns woolls, that often useth to goe and come to my Fathers house, There's no likelihood in this, Gen∣tlewoman, quoth the Steward; for I know Pedro Perez very well, and know that hee hath never a childe, neither Male nor Female: besides, you say hee is your Father, and by and by you add, that hee useth to goe often to your fathers house. I thought upon that too (quoth Sancho.) Why alas (quoth shee) I am so frighted, that I know not what I say: but true it is, that I am daughter to Diego de la Liana, whom I be∣leeve, you all know. This may bee (said the Steward) for I know Diego de la Liana to bee an honest and a wealthy Gentleman, and that hee hath a sonne and a daughter, and since hee hath beene a widdower, there's none in this towne can say hee hath seene his daughters face; for hee keepes her so close, that hee scarce gives the Sunn leave

to look on her: and for all that, Fame sayes shee is wondrous faire.

'Tis true (quoth the Maid) and I am that daughter, whether Fame lie or no, con∣cerning my beauty; now you are satisfied, since you have beheld mee; and with this shee began to weep tenderly. Which when the Secretary saw, hee whispered the Carver in the eare, and told him; Doubtlesse some matter of consequence hath befaln this poore Virgin, since in this habit, and at this time of night, being so well borne, she is from her home. There's no doubt of that (quoth the Carver) for her teares too con∣firme the suspition.

Sancho comforted her the best hee could, and bad her without feare, tell w••at had befalne her; for that all of them would strive to give her remedie with all possible diligence.

The businesse, Sirs, quoth shee, is this: My Father hath kept mee close these tenne yeeres; for so long it is since my Mother died: in the house wee have a Chappell, where Masse is said, and I in all this time have seene nothing but the Sunne by day, and the Moon and starres by night: neither know I what streets, or Market-places, or Churches are, nor men, except my Father, a Brother of mine, and Pedro Perez the Farmer, who because hee useth to come ordinarily to our house, it came into my minde to say hee was my Father, because I would conceale the right. This keeping mee close, and denying mee to stirre not so much as to the Church, hath this good while discomforted mee, and I had a desire to see the world, at least, the towne where I was borne, as thinking this longing of mine was not against the Decorum that Maidens of my birth ought to observe: when I heard talke of Bull-baitings, running with Reedes, and representing Comedies: I asked my Brother that is a yeere yonger then I, what kinde of things those were, and many others, which I have not seene; and hee told mee as well as hee could: but all was to enflame my desire the more to see.

Finally, to shorten my mis-fortune, I entreated my Brother, (I would I had never done it:) and then shee renued her teares.

Then said the Steward, On, Gentlewoman, and make an end of telling us what hath befalne you: for you hold us all in suspence, with your words, and your teares.

Few words have I to say (quoth shee) but many teares to weep: for they bee the fruits of ill-placed desires.

The Maids beauty was now planted in the Carvers heart, and hee held up his Lan∣thorne againe, to behold her afresh; and it seemed to him, that shee wept not teares but seed-pearl, or morning dew: and hee thought higher, that they were liker orientall Pearles; and his wish was, that her mis-fortune might not bee such, as the shewes of her mone and sighing might promise.

The Governour was mad at the Wenches slownesse and delaying her Story; and bade her, shee should make an end and hold them no longer in suspence, for that it was late, and they had much of the towne to walke. Shee betwixt broken sobs, and halfe-fetcht sighs, said, My misfortune is nothing else, but that I desired my Brother that hee would cloath mee in mans apparell, in one of his Sutes; and that some night or other hee would carry mee to see the towne, when my Father should bee asleepe; hee importuned by my intreaties, condiscended to my request: and putting this Sute on mee; and hee putting on another of mine, that sits him, as if it were made for him; for hee hath never a haire upon his chin, and might bee taken for a most beautifull Maid: this night somewhat above an houre agoe, wee went abroad; and rambling up and downe, wee have gone thorowout the whole towne: and going homeward, wee saw a great troope of people comming towards us; and my Brother said, Sister: this is the Round, Take you to your heeles, and put wings to them, and follow mee, that wee bee not knowne: for it will bee ill for us; and this said, hee turned his back, and began, I say not, to runne, but flye: I within foure or five steppes fell downe for feare: and then came this Officer that brought mee before you; where, for my vilde longing, I am ashamed before so many people. So that, Gentlewoman, (quoth Sancho) no other mishap hath befalne you; neither was it jealousie, as you said in the beginning of your tale, that made you goe abroad? Nothing else (said shee) nor jealousies: but a

desire to see the world, and which exetended no further then to see this Towns streets: And the comming now of two other Yeomen with her Brother, confirmed this to bee true, whom one of them overtook when hee fled from his Sister: Hee had nothing on but a rich Kirtle, and a half Mantle of blue Damask, edg'd with a broad gold Lace: his head without any kinde of dressing or adornment, then his own locks; which by reason of their colour and curling, seemed to bee rings of gold. Aside they went with the Governour, the Steward, and the Carver; and not letting his Sister hear, they asked why hee came in that habit? And hee with the same shamefac'd bashfullnesse told the same Tale that his Sister had done; at which the enamoured Carver was wonderfully pleased. But the Governour said to them, Truly hoe, this hath been a great childish∣nesse in you; and you needed not so many sighs and tears to tell such a piece of foolish boldnesse; for it had been enough if you had said, Wee, such and such a one, went out of our Fathers house only for curiositie to walk up and down the Town, and there had been an end, without your sighing and your whining on Gods name.

You say true Sir (quoth the Maid) but you may think that I was so troubled, that I could not tell how to behave my self.

There's nothing lost (quoth Sancho) let's goe, and wee will leave you in your fathers house; perhaps hee will not have missed you; and from hence-forward bee not such children, and so longing to see the world; for the honest Maid better at home with a bone broken, then a gadding: The Woman and the Hen are lost with stragling: and let me tell you too; shee that desires to see, hath a desire likewise to bee seen, and I say no more.

The Youth thanked the Governour for the favour hee did them, to let them goe home; whither they went, for it was not farre from thence.

Home they came; and the Youth throwing a little stone at one of the Iron win∣dows; straight there came a Maid-servant down, that sate up for them, and opened them the door, and in they went, leaving those without as well to admire her gentle∣nesse and beauty, as the desire they had to see the world by night, without stirring out of the Town: but they attributed all to their slander age.

The Carvers heart was strucken thorow; and hee purposed the next day to demand her of her Father to Wife, assuring himself hee would not deny her him, because hee was the Dukes servant: Sancho too had a certain longing and inkling to marry the Youth with his Daughter Sanchica: and hee determined to put the matter in practice betimes, as thinking that a Governours Daughter was fit for any Husband: and so the Round was ended for that night; and some two dayes after his Government too, with which all his designes were lopped off and blotted out, as hereafter shall bee said.

CHAP. L.

Where is declared, who were the Enchanters and Executioners that whipped the Matron, pincht and scratcht Don-Quixote; with the successe the Page had that carried the Letter to Teresa Pança, Sancho's Wife.

CID Hamete, the most punctuall Searcher of the very m••ats of this true History, sayes, That when Donna Rodriguez went out of her Chamber, to goe to Don-Quixotes lodging, another Wayting-woman that lay with her, perceived her: and as all of them have an itch to smell after novelties, shee went after so softly, that the good Rodriguez perceived it not: and as soon as the Waiting-woman saw her goe in to Don-Quixote, that shee might not bee defective in the generall custome of Make-bates, shee went pre∣sently to put this into the Duchesses head; and so told her that Donna Rodriguez was in Don-Quixotes Chamber; the Duchesse told the Duke, and asked his leave, that shee and Altisidora might goe see what the Matron would have with Don-Quixote: the Duke granted, and both of them very softly came close to Don-Quixotes door, and so neer that they heard all that was spoken within: and when the Duchesse heard that Rodriguez had set the Ara••xnez of her springs a running in the streets, shee could not suffer it, nor Altisidora neither: so, full of rage and greedy to revenge, they entred the Chamber so dainly, and stabbed Don-Quixote with their nails, and banged the Woman, as hath been related: for affronts that are directly done against beauty, doe awaken womens choller, and inflame in them a desire of revenge.

The Duchesse told the Duke what had passed, which made him passing merry: and the Duchesse proceeding with her intention of mirth and pastime with Don Quixote, dispatcht the Page that played the Enchanted Dulcinea's part (for Sancho had forgot∣ten it, being busied in his Government) to Teresa Panca with her Husbands Letter, and and another from her self, and a chain of fair Corall for a token.

The Story too tells us, that the Page was very discreet and wittie, and with a desire to serve his Lords, hee went with a very good will to Sancho's Town; and before hee entred into it, hee saw a company of women washing in a brook; whom hee asked, if they could tell him, if there lived in that Town a woman, whose name was Teresa Panca, wife to one Sancho Panca, Squire to a Knight called Don-Quixote de la Mancha; to which question a little Girle that was washing there, stood up and said, That Teresa Panca is my Mother, and that Sancho my Father, and that Knight our Master.

Well then Damzell (quoth the Page) come and bring me to your Mother; for I bring her a Letter and a Present from your said Father.

That I will with a very good will Sir, said the Wench, that seemed to bee about a some fourteen yeers of age, more or lesse: and leaving the clothes that shee was wash∣ing to another companion of hers, without dressing her head or putting on stockings and shooes (for shee was bare-legged, and with her haire about her eares) shee leaped before the Pages Beast hee rode on, and said, Come Sir, for our house is just as you come in at the Town, and there you shall finde my Mother with sorrow enough, be∣cause shee hath not heard from my Father this great while.

Well, I have so good news for her (quoth hee) that shee may thank God for it.

At length, leaping, running, and jumping, the Girle got to the Town, and before 〈◊〉〈◊〉 came into the house, shee cryed out aloud at the door: Come out Mother Teresa,

Come out, come out: for here's a Gentleman hath Letters and other things from my good Father: at which noise Teresa Panca her Mother came out, spinning a rowle of Flax, with a Russet Petti-coat, and it seemed by the shortnesse of it, that it had been cut off at the Placket; and shee had Russet bodies of the same, and shee was in her smo••k-sleeves; shee was not very old, for shee lookt as if shee had beene about for∣ty: but shee was strong, tough, sinowie, and raw-boned; who seeing her Daughter, and the Page a horse-back, said, What's the matter, child? What Gentleman is this? A servant of my Lady Teresa Panca's (quoth the Page:) so, doing and speaking, hee flung himselfe from his horse, and with great humilitie went to prostrate himselfe before the Lady Teresa, saying, My Lady Teresa, give mee your hands to kisse, as you are lawfull and particular Wife to my Lord Don Sancho Panca, proper Governour of the Island Barataria.

Ah good Sir, forbear I pray do not doe so, quoth Teresa: for I am no Court-noll, but a poore Husband-woman, a Ploughmans daughter, and wife to a Squire Errant, and not a Governour.

You are (quoth the Page) a most worthy wife, to an Arch-worthy Governour: and for proofe of what I say I pray receive this Letter, and this token; when instantly hee plucked out of his pocket a Corall string, with the lac'd Beads of gold, and put it a∣bout her neck, and said, This Letter is from the Governour; and another that I bring; and these Corals are from my Lady the Duchesse that sends me to you.

Teresa was amazed, and her daughter also: and the Wench said, Hang mee, if our Master Don-Quixote have not a hand in this businesse; and hee it is that hath given my Father this Government or Earledome that he so often promised him.

You say true (quoth the Page) for, for Signior Don-Quixotes sake, Signior Sancho Panca is now Governour of the Island Barataria, as you shall see by this Letter.

Reade it, gentle Sir, said Teresa: for though I can spin, I cannot reade a jot; nor I neither, added Sanchica: but stay a little and Ile call one that shall; either the Vicar himselfe, or the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, who will both come hither with all their hearts to heare newes of my Father.

You need not call any body, said hee: for though I cannot spin, yet I can reade, and therefore I will reade it; so hee did thorowout: which, because it was before re∣lated, it is not now set downe here and then hee drew out the Duchesses, which was as followeth:

FRiend Teresa, your Husbands good parts of his wit and ho∣nesty, moved and obliged mee, to request the Duke my Hus∣band, to give him the Government of one of the many Islands hee hath: I have understood, that hee governs like a Ier-Falcon, for which I am very glad; and consequently my Lord the Duke: for which I render heaven many thankes, in that I have not beene decei∣ved in making choise of him for the said government: for let mee tell, Mistris Teresa, it is a very difficult thing, to finde a good Gover∣nour in the world; and so God deale with mee, as Sancho governes. I have sent you (my beloved) a string of Corall Beads, with the tens of gold, I could wish they had beene Orientall Pearles; but something is better then nothing: time will come, that wee may know and converse one with another; and God knowes what will become of it.

Commend me to Sanchica your Daughter, and bid her from me, that

shee bee in a readinesse; for I mean to Marry her highly when shee least thinks of it.

They tell me that in your Town there, you have goodly Acornes; I pray send me some two dozen of them, & I shall esteem them much as comming from you: and write me at large, that I may know of your health and well-being; and if you want ought, there is no more to be done but mouth it, and your mouth shall have full measure, so God keep you. From this Town.

Your loving Friend, The Duchesse.

Lord! quoth Teresa, when she heard the Letter, what a good plain meek-Lady 'tis! God bury me with such Ladies, and not with your stately ones that are used in this town, who think, because they are Jantle-folks, the winde must not touch them: and they go so fantastically to Church, as if they were Queenes at least, and they think it a dis∣grace to um to looke upon a poor Countrey Woman: But looke you, here's a good Lady, that though she bee a Duchesse, calls mee friend, and useth mee as if I were her e∣quall: equall may I see her with the highest Steeple in the Mancha: and concern∣ing her Acorns, Signior mine, I will send her Ladyship a whole Pecke, that every body, shall behold, and admire them for their bignesse: and now, Sanchica, doe thou see that this Gentleman bee welcome: set his Horse up, and get some Egges out of the Stable, and cut some Bacon: hee shall fare like a Prince, for the good newes hee hath brought us, and his good face deserves it all: in the meane time I will goe tell my neigh∣bours of this good newes, and to our father Vicar, and Master Nicholas the Barber, who have beene, and still are so much thy fathers friends.

Yes marry will I (quoth Sanchica: but harke you: you must give mee half that string, for I doe not thinke my Ladie Duchesse such a foole, that shee would send it all to her.

'Tis all thine, Daughter, said Teresa: but let mee weare it a few dayes about my neck: for verily, it glads mee to the heart.

You will bee glad (quoth the Page) when you see the bundle that I have in my Port-mantue, which is a garment of fine cloth, which the Governour onely wore one day a Hunting, which he hath sent to Mistris Sanchica. Long may he live (quoth San∣chica) and hee that brings it too.

Teresa went out with her chaine about her neck, and playd with her fingers upon her Letters, as if they had been a Timbrel: and meeting by chance with the Vicar, and Samson Carrasce, shee began to dance, and to say, yfaith now there is none poore of the kinn, we have a little Government; No, no. Now let the proudest Gentlewoman of um all meddle with mee, and Ile shew her a new tricke.

What madnesse is this, Teresa Panca, and what Papers are these? No madnesse (quoth shee) but these are Letters from Duchesses and Governours: and these I weare about my neck are fine Corals; the Ave-Maries and Pater-nosters are of beaten gold, and I am a Governesse

Now God shield us Teresa: wee understand you not, neither know wee what you meane.

There you may see (quoth Teresa) and gave um the Letters.

The Vicar reads them that Samson Carrasco might heare: so hee and the Vicar look•• one upon the other, wondring at what they had read.

And the Bachelor asked, Who brought those Letters? Teresa answered, that they

should goe home with her and they should see the Messenger; a young Youth as fair as a golden Pine-Apple, and that hee brought her another Present twice as good.

The Vicar took the Corals from her neck and beheld them again and again, and assuring himself that they were right, hee began to wonder afresh, and said; By my Coat I swear, I know not what to say or think of these Letters and Tokens: for on the one side, I see and touch the finenesse of these Corals; and on the other, that a Du∣chesse sends to beg two dozen of Acornes. Come crack me that nut, quoth Carasco. Well, let us goe see the Bearer of this Letter, and by him wee will bee informed of these doubts that are offered. They did so, and Teresa went back with them: they found the Page sifting a little Barley for his Beast, and Sanchica cutting a Rasher to* pave it with Eggs for the Pages dinner, whose presence and attire much contented them both; [*Para Empedarte. A pretty metaphor, for in Spain they use to fry their Collops and Egs all together; not as wee doe, first Bacon, and then Eggs: and therefore the Author calls it paving:] and after they had courteously saluted him, and hee them, Samson asked him for news as well of Don-Quixote as Sancho: for though they had read Sancho and the Lady Duchesses Letters, yet they were troubled, and could not ghesse what Sancho's Government should mean, especially of an Island, since all or the most that were in the Mediterranean Sea, belonged to his Majesty.

To which the Page answered; That Signior Sancho Panca is Governour, 'tis not to be doubted; but whether it be an Island or no that hee governs, I meddle not with it; 'tis enough that is a place of above a thousand Inhabitants•• and concerning the Acornes let mee tell you: My Lady the Duchesse is so plaine and humble, that her sending for Acornes to this Countrey-woman is nothing. I have knowne when shee hath sent to borrow a Combe of one of her neighbours, and let mee tell you; The Ladies of Aragon, though they bee as Noble, yet they stand not so much upon their points, nei∣ther are so lofty as your Castilians, and they are much plainer.

Whilest they were in the middest of this discourse, Sanchica came leaping with her lap full of Egges, and asked the Page; Tell mee, Sir, doth my Father weare pained hose since his being Governour? I never marked it, quoth the Page, but sure hee doth. Oh God, quoth shee, what a sight it would bee, to see my Father in his linnen hose first! how say you? that ever since I was borne I have had a desire to see my Father in pain'd hose. With many of these you shall see him (quoth the Page) if you live. And I protest, if his Government last him but two Moneths longer, hee will bee likely to weare a Cap with a Beaver.

The Vicar and Bachelor perceived very well, that the Page played the Jack with them; but the goodnesse of the Corall-Beads and the hunting suit that Sancho sent made all straight again, for Teresa had shewed them the apparell, and they could not but laugh at Sanchica's desire, and most when Teresa said, Master Vicar, pray will you hearken out if there bee any body that goe toward Madrid or Toledo, that they may buy me a Farthingale round and well made, just in the fashion, and of the best sort; for in truth, in truth, I mean to credit my Husbands Government as much as I can; and if I bee angry, Ile to Court my self too, and have my Coach as well as the best: for shee that hath a Governour to her Husband may very well have it and maintain it.

And why not Mother (quoth Sanchica?) and the sooner the better, though those that see mee set with my Mother in the Coach should say, Look yee on Mistrisse Wha∣cham, good-man Garlike-eaters daughter, how shee is set and stretcht at ease in the Coach, as if shee were a Pope Ioane: but let them tread in the dirt, and let me goe in my Coach: a pox on all back-biters; the Fox fares best when hee is cursed. Say I well Mother mine? Very well (quoth shee) and my good Sancho foretold me of all these blessings and many more; and thou shalt see Daughter. Ile never rest till I am a Countesse; for all is but to begin well, and (as I have often heard thy good Father say, who is likewise the father of Proverbs:) Look not a given horse in the mouth: when a Government is given thee, take it; when an Earldome, gripe it; and when they hist, hist, to thee with a reward [hiss, hiss, as if it were the calling of a dog to give him meat]

take it up. No, no, be carelesse, and answer not good fortune when she knocks at your doors. And what care I (quoth Sanchica) what hee sayes that sees me stately and Ma∣jesticall: there's a dog in a doublet and such like.

When the Vicar heard all this, hee said, I cannot beleeve but all the stock of the Pan∣ca's were borne with a bushell of Proverbs in their bellies, I never saw any of them that did not scatter them at all times, and upon all occasions. You say true (quoth the Page) for Signior Sancho the Governour speaks them every foot; and though many of them bee nothing to the purpose, yet they delight, and my Lady the Duchesse and the Duke doe much celebrate them. That still you should affirm Sir, that this of Sancho's Government is true, and that there can bee any Duchesse in the world that sends him Presents, and writes to him; for wee, although wee see them, and have read the Letters, yet we cannot beleeve it & we think that this is one of Don-Quixote our Country-man his inventions, who thinks that all are by way of Enchantment: So that I am about to desire to feel and touch you, to see whether you bee an ayrie Ambassador, or a man of flesh and blood.

Sir (quoth the Page) all I know of my self, is, that I am a reall Ambassador, and that Signior Sancho Panca is an effective Governour, and that my Lords the Duke and Duchesse may give, and have given the said Government; and I have heard say that the said Sancho Panca demeans himself most robustiously in it. If in this there bee any Enchantment, you may dispute it amongst your selves, for I know no more, by an oath I shall swear, which is, By the life of my Parents, who are alive, and I love them very well.

It may very well bee (quoth the Bachelour) but dubitat Augustinus. Doubt it who so will (quoth the Page) I have told you the truth, which shall alwaies prevaile above lyes, as the oyle above the water: and if not operibus credite & non verbis, one of you goe with me, and you shall see with your eyes what you will not beleeve with your ears. That journey will I goe (quoth Sanchica;) you shall carrie me Sir, at your horses crupper, and Ile goe with a very good will to see my Father. Governours Daughters (quoth hee) must not travell alone, but accompanied with Carroches and Horse-Litters, and good store of Servants. Marry (quoth Sancha) I can goe as well upon a young Asse-Colt, as upon a Coach; you have a daintie piece of mee no doubt.

Peace wench (said Teresa) thou knowest not what thou sayest, and this Gentleman is in the right; the times are altered: When thy Father was Sancho, then mightest thou bee Sancha; but now hee is Governour, Madam; and I know not whether I have said ought. Mistris Teresa sayes more then shee is aware of (quoth the Page) and now pray let me dine and bee quickly dispatcht, for I must return this afternoon. Then (quoth the Vicar) you shall doe Penance with mee to day; for Mistris Teresa hath more good will then good cheer to wellcome so good a guest. The Page refused, but for his better fare, hee was forced to accept of the kindnesse; and the Vicar carried him the more willingly, that hee might have time to ask at leisure after Don-Quixotes exploits. The Bachelor offered Teresa to write the answers of her Letters, but shee would not that hee should deal in her affairs; for shee held him to bee a Scoffer: and so shee gave a little rowle of bread and a couple of eggs to a little Monk that could write, who wrote her two Letters, one for her Husband, and the other for the Duchesse, framed by her own pate, and are not the worst in all this grand History, as you may see hereafter.

CHAP. LI.

Of Sancho's proceeding in his Government, with other successes as good as touch.

THe day appeared after the Governours Rounding night, in which the Carver slept not a whit, being busied in thinking upon the face, feature and beauty of the disguised Damzell: and the Ste∣ward spent the remainder of it in writing to his Lords Sancho Panca's words and actions, both which hee equally admired; for both were mixt with certain appearances of Discreet and Fool.

The Governour in fine was gotten up, and by Doctor Pedro Rezio's appointment, hee broke his fast with a little Conserve, and some two or three spoonfulls of cold water, which Sancho would willingly have changed for a piece of bread and a bunch of grapes; but seeing there was no remedy, hee passed it over, though with much grief of minde and wearinesse of Stomack; for Pedro Rezio made him beleeve, that few dishes, and those delicate, did quicken the wit, which was the only thing for persons that bore Rule, and weighty Offices; where they must benefit themselves, not only with corporall force, but strength of understanding too.

With this Sophistry Sancho was almost starved, so that in secret he cursed the Go∣vernment, and also him that gave it him; but yet, with his hunger and his Conserve hee sate in Judgement that day, and the first thing that came before him, was a doubt that a stranger proposed unto him, the Steward and the rest of the fraternity being present, and it was this.

Sir, a main River divided two parts of one Lordship (I pray mark, for it is a case of great importance, and somewhat difficult:) I say then that upon this River there was a Bridge, and at the end of it a Gallowes, and a kind of Judgement Hall, in which there were ordinarily four Judges, that Judged according to the Law that the owner of the River, Bridge, and Lordship had established, which was this: If any one bee to passe from one side of this Bridge to the other, hee must first swear whether hee goes, and what his businesse is: If hee swear true, let him passe; if hee lye let him bee hanged upon the Gallowes that shews there without remission. This Law being divulged, and the rigorous condition of it, many passed by, and presently by their oaths, it was seen whether they said true, and the Judges let them passe freely. It fell out that they took one mans oath, who swore and said, that hee went to bee hanged upon that Gallows, and for nothing else.

The Judges were at a stand, and said, If wee let this man passe, hee lyed in his oath, and according to the Law hee ought to die; and if wee hang him, hee swore hee went to die upon the Gallows, and having sworn truly, by the same Law hee ought to be free. It is now, Sir Governour, demanded of you, what should bee done with this man, for the Judges are doubtfull and in suspence; and having had notice of your quick and elevated understanding, they sent me to you, to desire you on their behalfs to give your opinion in this intricate and doubtfull case.

To which (quoth Sancho) Truly these Judges that send you to me might have saved a labour; for I am one that have as much wit as a Setting-dogg: but howsoever repeat me you the businesse once again, that I may understand it, and perhaps I may hit the mark.

The Demandant repeated again, and again, what hee had said before: And Sancho said, In my opinion it is instantly resolved, as thus:

The man swears that hee goes to die upon the Gallows; and if hee dye so, hee swore true; and so by the Law deserves to passe free: and yet if hee be not hanged, he swore false, and by the same Law hee ought to be hanged. 'Tis just as Master Governour hath

said (quoth the Messenger;) and concerning the understanding of the Case, there is no more to bee required or doubted. I say then (quoth Sancho) that they let that part of the man passe that spoke truth, and that which told a lye, let them hang it, and so the con∣dition of the Law shall bee litterally accomplished.

Why Sir (said the Demandant) then the man must bee divided into two parts, lying and true; and if hee bee divided hee must needs dye, and so there is nothing of the Law fulfilled, and it is expresly needfull, that the Law bee kept.

Come hither honest fellow (quoth Sancho) either I am a very Leek, or this Passenger you speak of hath the same reason to dye, as to live and passe the Bridge; for if the truth save him, the lye condemns him equally: which being so as it is, I am of opinion that you tell the Judges that sent you to me, That since the reasons to save or con∣demne him bee in one rank that they let him passe freely; for it is ever more praise∣worthy to doe good, then to doe ill; and this would I give under my hand if I could write: and in this Case I have not spoken from my self; but I remember one precept amongst many others, that my Master Don-Quixote gave me the night before I came to be Governour, which was; That when Justice might bee any thing doubtfull, I should leave, and apply my self to pitty; and it hath pleased God I should remember it in this Case, which hath falne out pat.

'Tis right (quoth the Steward;) and sure Licurgus Law-giver to the Lacedemonians, could not have given a better sentence then that which the Grand Sancho Panca hath given. And now this mornings audience may end, and I will give order that the Go∣vernour may dine plentifully. That I desire (quoth Sancho) and let's have fair play: Let me dine, and then let Cases and doubts rain upon me, and Ile snuff them apace.

The Steward was as good as his word, holding it to bee a matter of conscience to starve so discreet a Governour: Besides, his purpose was to make an end with him that night, performing the last jest, which hee had in Commission towards him. It hapned then, that having eaten contrary to the prescriptions and orders of the Do∣ctor Tirte fuera, when the cloth was taken away, there came in a Poste with a Letter of Don-Quixotes to the Governour. Sancho commanded the Secretary to read it to himself, and that if there came no secret in it, hee should read it aloud. The Secre∣tary did so, and sodainly running it over, said, It may well bee read out, for this that Don-Quixote writes to you, deserves to bee stamped and written in golden Letters, and thus it is.

Don-Quixotes Letter to Sancho Pança, Governour of the Island Barataria.

WHen I thought (friend Sancho) to have heard news of thy negligence and folly, I heard it of thy discretion, for which I gave to God particular thanks. I hear thou Go∣vernest as if thou wert a man, and that thou art a man as if thou wert a beast, such is thy humility thou usest; yet let me note unto thee, That it is very necessary and convenient many times, for the Authority of a place to goe against the humility of the heart; for the adornment of the person that is in eminent Offices, must be according to their greatnesse, and not according to the measure of the meek condition to which hee is in∣clined. Goe well clad; for a stake well dressed, seems not to bee so: I say not to thee that thou weare toyes, or gawdy gay things; not that

being a Iudge thou goe like a Souldier, but that thou adorn thy self with such a habit as thy place requires; so that it bee handsome and neat.

To get the good will of those thou Governest, amongst others, thou must doe two things; the one, to bee courteous to all, which I have al∣ready told thee of; and the other, to see that there bee plenty of suste∣nance; for there is nothing that doth more weary the hearts of the poor then hunger and dearth.

Make not many Statute Laws, and those thou doest make, see they bee good, but chiefly that they be observed and kept; for Statutes not kept, are the same as if they were not made; and doth rather shew that the Prince had Wisedome and Authority to make them, then valour to see that they should bee kept: And Laws that only threaten, and are not execu∣ted, become like the beam, King of Frogs, that at first scarred them, but in time they despised, and gat up on the top of it.

Bee a Father of Virtue, but a Father-in-law of Vice.

Bee not alwaies cruell, nor alwaies mercifull, choose a mean betwixt. these two extreams, for this is a point of discretion.

Visit the Prisons, the Shambles, and the Markets, for in such places the Governours presence is of much importance.

Comfort the Prisoners that hope to be quickly dispatcht.

Be a Bull-begger to the Butchers, and a scar-Crow to the Huckster∣women for the same reason.

Shew not thy selfe (though perhaps thou art, which yet I beleeve not) Covetous, or a Whore-monger, or a Glutton; for when the Town, and those that converse with thee, know which way thou art inclined, there they will set upon thee, till they cast thee down head-long.

View and re-view, passe and re-passe thine eyes over the Instructions I gave thee in writing, before thou wentest from hence to thy Govern∣ment, and thou shalt see how thou findest in them, if thou observe them, an allowance to help thee to bear and passe over the troubles that are in∣cident to Governours,

Write to my Lords, and shew thy self thankfull; for Ingratitude is the Daughter of Pride, and one of the greatest sins that is: and hee that is thankfull to those that have done him good, gives a testimony that he will be so to God too, that hath done him so much good, and dayly doth continue it

My Lady Duchesse dispatcht a Messenger a purpose with thy apparel; and another present to thy Wife Teresa Pança; every minute we ex∣pect an answer.

I have been somewhat ill at ease of late with a certain Cat businesse that hapned to me not very good for my nose, but 'twas nothing; for if there be Enchanters that misuse me, others there be that defend me. Let me know if the Steward that is with thee had any hand in Trifaldi's actions, as thou suspectedst: and let me hear likewise of all that befalls thee, since the way is so short; besides, I think to leave this idle life e're long, for I was not born to it.

Here is a business at present, that I beleeve will bring me in disgrace with these Nobles: but though it much concern me I care not; for indeed I had rather comply with my Profession, then with their wills, according to the saying; Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas. I write thee this Latine, because I think, since thy being Governour thou hast learnt to un∣derstand it. And so farewell, God keep thee, and send that no man pittie thee.

Thy Friend, Don-Quixote de la Mancha.

Sancho heard the letter very attentively, and those that heard it, applauded it for a very discreet one: and presently Sancho rose from the Table, and calling the Secretary lockt him to him in his lodging Chamber, and without more delay meant to an∣swer his Master Don-Quixote: and therefore hee bade the Secretarle without adding or diminishing ought to write what he would have him; which hee did: and the Let∣ter in answer was of this ensuing tenour.

Sancho Pança's Letter to Don-Quixote de la Mancha.

My businesse and imployments are so great, that I have not leisure either to scratch my head, or pare my nails, which is the reason they are so long (God help me.)

This I say (dear Signior mine) that you may not wonder, if hitherto I have not given you notice of my well or ill being at this Governmeut; in which I am now more hungry, then when you and I travelled in the Woods and Wil∣derness.

My Lord the Duke wrote me the other day, by way of advice, that there were certain Spies entred the Island, to kill me: but hitherto I have disco∣vered none but a certain Doctor, who is entertained in this Town, to kill as many Governours as come to it: and his name is Doctor Pedro Rezio born in Tirte a fuera: that you may see what a name this is for me to fear lest hee kill me.

This aforesaid Doctor sayes of himself, that hee cures not infirmities when they are in present being, but prevents them before they come: and the Medicines he useth, are dyet upon dyet, till he makes a man no∣thing but bare bones; as if leannesse were not a greater sicknesse then a Calenture.

Finally, he hath even starved me, and I am ready to dye for anger: for when I thought to have comne to this Island to eate good warm things and to drink cool, and to recreate my body in Holland sheets and Feather-Beds; I am forced to doe penance as if I were an Hermite: and because I doe it unwillingly, I beleeve at the upshot the Devill will have me.

Hitherto have I neither had my due, nor taken bribe, and I know not the reason: for here they tell me that the Governours that use to come to this Island, before they come, they of the Town either give or lend them a good sum of money: and this is the ordinary custome, not only in this Town but in many others also.

Last night as I walked the Round, I met with a fair maid in mans apparell, and a Brother of hers in womans: my Carver fell in love with the Wench, and purposed to take her to Wife, as hee sayes; and I have chosen the youth for my sonne in law; and to day both of us will put our desires in practice with the Father of them both, which is one Diego de la Liana, a Gentleman and an old Christian, as much as you would desire. I visit the Market places (as you advised me) and yester∣day found a Huckster that sold new Hazel-nuts, and it was proved against her, that shee had mingled the new with a bushell of old, that were rotten and without kernels; I judged them all to bee given to the Hospitall Boyes that could very well distinguish them; and gave sen∣tence on her, That shee should not come into the Market-place in fifteen dayes after: 'twas told me, that I did most valorously: All I can tell you is, that it is the common report in this Town, That there is no worse People in the world then these women of the Market-places; for all of them are impudent, shamelesse, and ungodly; and I beleeve it to bee so by those that I have seen in other Towns. That my Lady the Du∣chesse hath written to my Wife Teresa Pança, and sent her a Token, as you say, it pleaseth me very well, and I will endeavour at fit time to shew my self thankfull: I pray doe you kisse her hands on my behalf, and tell her, her kindenesse is not ill bestowed, as shall after appear.

I would not that you should have any thwart-reckonings of distaste with those Lords; for if you be displeased with them, 'tis plain it must needs redound to my dammage; and 'twere unfit that, since you advise me not to be unthankfull, you should be so to them that have shewed you so much kindenesse, and by whom you have been so well welcommed in their Castle.

That of your Cat businesse I understand not; but I suppose 'tis some of those ill feats that the wicked Enchanters are wont to use toward you; I shall know of you when we meet. I would fain have sent you something from hence, but I know not what, except it were some little Canes to make Squirts, which with Bladders too they make very curiously in this place: but if my Office last, Ile get something worth the sending.

If my Wife Teresa Pança write to me, pay the Portage, and send me the Letter: for I have a wonderfull desire to know of the Estate of my House, my Wife and Children: and so God keep you from ill-minded Enchanters, and deliver me well and peaceably from this Government; for I doubt it, and think to lay my bones here, according as the Doctor Pedro Rezio handles me.

Your Worships Servant, Sancho Panca the Governour.

The Secretarie made up the Letter, and presently dispatcht the Post; and so Sancho's Tormentors joyning together, gave order how they might dispatch him from the Go∣vernment. And that afternoon Sancho passed in setting down orders for the well Go∣verning the Island he imagined to be so: And he ordained there should be no Huck∣sters for the Common-wealths Provisions; And likewise, That they might have Wines brought in from whencesoever they would; only with this Proviso, To tell the place from whence they came, to put prices to them according to their value and goodnesse: And whosoever put Water to any Wine, or chang'd the name of it, should die for it: he moderated the prices of all kinde of cloathing, especially of Shooes, as thinking Leather was sold with much exorbitancie.

He made a Taxation for Servants Wages, who went on unbridled for their profit.

He set grievous penalties upon such as should sing bawdie or ribaldry Songs, either by night or day.

He ordained likewise, That no blinde-man should sing miracles in Verse, except they brought authenticall testimonies of the truth of them: for he thought that the most they sung, were false and prejudiciall to the true.

He created also a Constable for the poor, not that should persecute, but examine them to know if they were so: for under colour of fained maimnesse, and false sores, the Hands are Theeves, and Health is a Drunkard.

In conclusion, he ordered things so well, that to this day they are fam'd, and kept in that place, and are called, The Ordinances of the Grand Governour Sancho Pança.

CHAP. LII.

The Adventure of the second Afflicted or straightned Matron, alias Donna Rodriguez.

CID Hamete tells us, that Don-Quixote being recovered of his scrat∣ches, hee thought the life he had led in that Castle, was much against the Order of Knighthood he profest: so he determined to crave leave of the Dukes to part towards Saragoza, whose Justs drew neer, where he thought to gain the Armour that useth to be obtained in them. And being one day at the Table with the Dukes, and be∣ginning to put his intention in execution, and to ask leave: Behold, unlookt for, two women came in at the great Hall door, clad (as it after appeared) in mourning from head to foot: and one of them comming to Don-Quixote, shee fell down all along at his feet, with her mouth sowed to them; and she groaned so sorrow∣fully and so profoundly, that she put all that beheld her into a great confusion: and though the Dukes thought it was some trick their servants would put upon Don-Quixote; notwithstanding, seeing with what earnestnesse the woman sighed, groaned and wept, they were a little doubtfull and in suspence, till Don-Quixote in great com∣passion raised her from the ground, and made her discover her self, and take her man∣tle from her blubbered face. She did so, and appeared to bee (what could not be ima∣gined) Donna Rodriguez the Waiting-women of the house; and the other in mourn∣ing was her wronged Daughter, abused by a rich Farmers sonne. All were in admira∣tion that knew her, especially the Dukes: for though they knew her to be foolish, and of a good mould that way; yet not to be so neer mad.

Finally, Donna Rodriguez turning to the Lords, she said, May it please your Ex∣cellencies, to give me leave to impart a thing to this Knight; for it behooves me to come out of a businesse, into which the boldnesse of a wicked Raskall hath thrust me.

The Duke said, he gave her leave, and that she should impart what she would to Sig∣nior Don-Quixote. She directing her voice and gesture to Don-Quixote, said, Some dayes since, valorous Knight, I related to you the wrong and trecherie that a wicked Farmer hath done to my beloved Daughter, the unfortunate one here now present; and you promised me to undertake for her to right this wrong that hath been done her: and now it hath come to my notice, that you mean to part from this Castle in quest of your Adventures (God send them) and therefore my request is, that before you scowre the wayes, you would defie this untamed Rustick, and make him marry my Daughter, according to the promise he gave her before he coupled with her: For to think that my Lord the Duke will doe me Justice, is to seek Pears from the Elme; for the reason, that I have plainly told you; and so God give you much health, and for∣sake not us.

To these reasons, Don-Quixote answered with great gravity and Prosopopeia: Good Matron, temper your tears, and save your sigh••s, and I am firmly resolved to engage my self to right your Daughter; for whom it had been much better, not to have been so easie of beleeving her Lovers promises, which for the most part are light in making, but heavy in accomplishing: and therefore with my Lord the Dukes leave, I will pre∣sently part in search of this ungodly youg man, and finde and challenge him, and kill him if he denie to accomplish his promise: For the chief ayme of my profession is, to pardon the humble, and to chastize the proud; I mean, to succour the wretched, and to destroy the cruell.

You need not (quoth the Duke) be at the pains of seeking the Clown, of whom the good Matron complaines; neither neede you aske mee leave to defie him,

'tis enough, that I know you have done it; and let it bee my charge to give him notice that he accept the challenge, and come to my Castle to answer for himself, where safe lists shall bee set up for you both, observing the conditions that in such acts ought to bee observed; and both your Justices equally, according as Princes are oblieged to doe, that grant single combat to those that fight within their Dommions. Why, with this securitie and your Greatnesses licence (quoth Don-Quixote) here I say that for this once I renounce my Gentry, and doe equalize my self to the meannesse of the Offen∣dor; and so qualifie him to combat with me: and so, though hee bee absent, I challenge and defie him for that hee did ill to defraud this poor creature that was a Maid, and now by his Villanie is none, and that he shall either fulfill his word he gave her to marry her, or die in the demand.

And straight plucking off his Glove, he cast it into the midest of the Hall, & the Duke took it up, saying, That hee (as had been said) in his Vassals name accepted the chal∣lenge, and appointed the prefix'd time six dayes after, and the Lists to bee in the Court of that Castle, and the usuall Armes of Knights, as Launce and Shield, and laced Ar∣mour, with all other pieces without deceit, advantage, or superstition, seen and allowed by the Judges of the Lists: But first of all 'tis requisite, that this honest Matron, and this ill Maid commit the right of their cause into Signior Don-Quixote de la Mancha's hands; for otherwise there will be nothing done; neither will the said challenge be put in execution.

I doe (quoth the Matron:) and I too, said the Daughter, all blubbered and shame∣fac'd, and in ill taking.

This agreement being made, and the Dukes imagining what was to be done in the businesse, the mourners went their wayes, and the Duchesse commanded they should be used not as their Servants, but like Lady-Adventurers, that came to their house to ask justice, and served as Strangers, to the wonderment of other servants that knew not what would become of the madnesse and levity of Donna Rodriguez, and her Errant Daughter.

Whilest they were in this businesse, to add more mirth to the Feast, and to end the Comedy: behold where the Page comes in that carried the Letter and tokens to Te∣resa Panca; whose arrivall much pleased the Dukes, desirous to know what befell him in his voyage, and asking him, The Page answered that he could not tell them in pub∣like, nor in few words; but that their excellencies would be pleased to reserve it for a private time, and that in the mean time they would entertain themselves with those Letters; and taking them out, he gave two to the Duchesse, the superscription of the one was, To my Lady Duchesse, I know not whence: and the other, To my Hus∣band Sancho Pança, Governour of the Island Barataria, whom God prosper longer then mee.

The Duchesse could not be quiet, till she had read her Letter; so openning it and reading it to her self, and seeing that shee might read it aloud, she did so, that the Duke and the by-standers might hear it, as followeth.

Teresa Pança's Letter to the Duchesse.

LLady mine: Your Greatnesses Letter you wrote me, did much content mee; for I did very much desire it: Your string of Corals was very good; and my Husbands Hunting-suit comes not short of it: That your Honour hath made my Consort Governour, all this Town rejoyceth at it, though there is none that will beleeve it; especially, the Vicar, Master Nicholas the Barber, and Samson

Carasco the Bachelor: but all is one to me, so it bee true, as it is; let each one say what he will: but if you goe to the truth, had it not been for the Corall and the Sute I should not have believed it neither; for all in this Town hold my Husband for a very Leek; and taking him from his governing a Flock of Goats, they cannot imagine for what Government else hee should bee good; God make him so and direct him as hee sees best, for his Children have need of it. I, Lady of my Life, am determined, with your Worships good leave, to make use of this good fortune in my house, and to goe to the Court to stretch my self in a Coach, to make a thonsand envious persons blinde that look after me. And there∣fore I request your Excellencie to command my Husband to send me some stock of money to purpose, because I hear the Court expences are great; that a Loaf is worth six-pence, and a pound of Mutton five-pence, that 'tis wonderfull: and that if hee mean not that I shall goe, hee let me know in time; for my feet are dancing till I bee jogging upon the way; for my friends and neighbours tell me, that if I and my Daughter goe glistring and pompously in the Court, my Husband will bee known by me more then I by him; for that of necessity many will ask, What Gentle∣women are these in the Coach? Then a servant of mine answers, The Wife and Daughter of Sancho Pança, Governour of the Island Ba∣rataria; and by this means Sancho shall be known, and I shall be e∣steemed, and to Rome for all: [A phrase used by her to no pur∣pose: but tis a usuall thing in Spain among ill livers to cry a Roma per todo, there to get absolution for their Villanies,] I am as sorry as sorrow may be, that this yeer we have gathered no Acorns; for all that, I send your highnesse half a peck, which I culled out, and went to the Mountain on purpose, and they were the bigest I could finde: I could have wished they had been as big as Eastritch Eggs. Let not your pompossity forget to write to me, and Ile have a care to answer and ad∣vise you of my health, and all that passeth here where I remain, praying to God to preserve your Greatnesse, and forget not me: my Daughter Sancha and my Sonne kisse your hands. Shee that desires more to see, then to write to, your Honour,

Your Servant, Teresa Panca.

Great was the content that all received to hear Teresa Panca's Letter, principally of the Dukes, and the Duchesse asked Don-Quixotes advice, if it were fit to open

the Letter that came for the Governour, which she imagined was most exquisite. Don-Quixote said, that to pleasure them hee would open it: which hee did, and saw the con∣tents which were these.

Teresa Pança's Letter, to her Hus∣band Sancho.

I Received thy Letter, my Sancho of my soul, and I promise and swear to thee as I am a Catholike Christian, there wanted not two fingers bredth of making me mad for joy: Look you Brother, when I came to hear that thou art a Governour, I thought I should have faln down dead with gladnesse; for thou knowest, that 'tis usually said, that sodain joy as soon kills as excessive grief. The water ran down thy daughter Sanchica's eyes without perceiving it, with pure content. The Suit thou sentest me I had before me, and the Corals my Lady the Duchesse sent, and the Letters in my hands and the bearer of them present, and for all this I beleeved and thought that all I saw or felt was but a dream: For who could think that a Goat-heard should come to be a Governour of Islands? and thou knowest friend, that my Mother was used to say, That 'twas needfull to live long, to see much. This I say, because I think to see more, if I live longer; for I hope I shall not have done, till I see thee a Farmer or Customer, which are Offices, that though the Devill carry away him that dischargeth them badly, yet in the end good store of coyne goes thorow their hands. My Lady the Duchess will let thee know what a desire I have to goe to the Court; consider of it, and let me know they minde, and I will doe thee honour there, going in my Coach. The Vicar, Barber, Bachelour, nor Sexton cannot beleeve that thou art a Governour, and say, that 'tis all jugling or Enchantment, as all thy Master Don-Quixotes Affairs are; And Samson sayes, he will finde thee ous, and put this Government out of thy noddle, and Don-Quixotes madness out of his Coxcombe. I doe nothing but laugh at them and look upon my Coral chain, and contrive how to make my Daughter a Gown of the Suit thou sent∣est me. I sent my Lady the Duchess some Acornes, I would they had been of gold: I prethee send me a string of Pearls, if they be used in that Island.

The news of this Town is, that Berneca married her Daughter to a scurvy Painter that came to this Town to paint at random. The Burgers of the Town willed him to paint the Kings Armes over the Gate of the Town Hall; he demanded two Ducats, which they gave

him before-hand: hee wrought eight dayes, in the end painted nothing, and said; he could not hit upon painting such a deal of Pedlery ware: so he returned them their money; and for all this, he married under the name of a good Workman: true it is, that he hath left his pencill, and taken the Spade, and goes to the field most Gentleman like. Pedro de Lobo's sonne hath taken Orders and shaved his head, with purpose to be a priest. Mingimtsa Mingo Siluctos ne're knew of it, and she hath put a Bill against him for promising her marriage: malicious tongues will not stick to say, that shee is great by him, but hee denies it stiffly.

This yeer we have had no Olives, neither is there a drop of Vinegar to be had in all the Town. A Company of Souldiers passed by here, and by the way they carried three Wenches from this Town with them; I will not tell thee who they are, for perhaps they will return, and there will not want some that will marry them for better for worse; Sanchica makes bone-lace, and gets her three-half-pence a day cleer, which she puts in a box with a slit to help to buy her Houshold-stuff; but now that she is a Governours Daughter, thou wilt give her a portion, that shee needs not work for it. The stone-Fountain in the Market-place is dryed up: a Thunder-bolt fell upon the Pillory, there may they fall all. I expect an answer of this, and thy resolution touching my going to the Court; and so God keep thee longer then me, or as long; for I would not leave thee in this world behinde me.

Thy Wife, Teresa Panca.

These Letters were extolled, laughed at, esteemed and admired: and to mend the matter, the Post came that brought one from Sancho to Don-Quixote, which was like∣wise read aloud; which brought the Governours madnesse in question. The Duchesse retired with the Page, to know what had befaln him in Sancho's Town, who told her at large, without omitting circumstance: hee gave her the Acornes, and a Cheese too which Teresa gave him for a very good one, much better then those of Tronion; the Duchesse received it with great content; in which we will leave her, to tell the end that the Government of the Grand Sancho Panca had, the Flower and Mirror of all Islandish Governours.

CHAP. LIII.

Of the troublesome end and up-shot that Sancho Pança's Govern∣ment had.

TO think that the affairs of this life should last ever in one being, is need∣lesse; for it rather seems otherwise: The Summer follows the Spring, after the Sumer the Fall, and the Fall the Winter, and so Time goes on in a continuated wheele. Onely mans Life runns to a speedy end, swifter then Time, without hope of being renewed, except it be in another life, which hath no bounds to limit it.

This said Cid Hamete, a Mahometicall Philosopher; for many without the light of Faith, only with a naturall instinct, have understood the swiftnesse and uncertainty of this Life present, and the lasting of the eternall Life which is expected: But here the Authour speaks it for the speedinesse with which Sancho's Government was ended, consumed and undone, and vanished into a shade and smoak: who being a-bed the seventh night after so many dayes of his Government, not cloyed with Bread or Wine, but with Judging and giving Sentences, making Proclamations and Statutes, when sleep maugre and in despight of hunger, shut his eye lids, he heard such a noyse of Bells and Out-cries, as if the whole Island had been sunk: he sate up in his Bed, and was very attentive, hearkning if he could ghesse at the cause of so great an Up-roar; but he was so farre from knowing it, that a noyse of a world of Drumms and Trumpets added to that of the Bells and Cries, made him more confused, and more full of fear and horror; and rising up, he put on a pair of Slippers for the moystnesse of the ground, and with∣out any night-Gown upon him, or any thing like it, he went out at his Chamber door, at such time, as he saw at least twenty persons come running thorow the Entries, with Torches in their hands lighted, and Swords unsheathed, crying all out aloud; Arm, Arm, Sir Governour, Arm; for a world of enemies are entred the Island, and we are undone, if your skill and valour help us not.

With this Fury, Noyse, and Uproar, they came where Sancho was, astonisht and embeseld with what he heard & saw: and when they came to him, one of them said, Arm your self strait Sir, if you mean not to be destroyed, and that all the Island be lost.

I Arm my self (quoth Sancho?) Know I any thing what belongs to Arms or Suc∣cours? 'twere better leave these things to my Master Don-Quixote de la Mancha, he will dispatch and put them in safety in an instant; for I (sinner that I am) under∣stand nothing of this quick service. Ha, Sir Governour, said another, what faint-heart∣ednesse is this? Arm your self, for here we bring you Arms offensive and defensive: Martch to the M••rket-place, and bee our Guide and Captain, since you ought (being our Governour) to be so. Arm me on Gods name (quoth Sancho.) And strait they brought him two Shields, of which they had good store, and they clapt them upon his Shirt, without letting him take any other clothes; one they put before, and the other behinde, and they drew out his arms at certain holes they had made, and bound him very well with cords, so that hee was walled and boorded up straight like a spindle, not able to bend his knees or to move a step: In his hands they put a Launce, on which he leant to keep himself up. When they had him thus, they bade him martch and guide them, and cheer them all; for that hee being their Lanthorne, North, and Morning starre, their matters would be well ended. How should I (wretch that I am) martch (quoth Sancho?) for my knee bones will not move, since these boords that are so sowed to my flesh doe hinder me: your only way is to carry me in your armes, and to lay me a-thwart, or let me stand up at some Postern, which I will make good either with my Launce or body. Fie Sir, said

another, 'tis more your fear then the boords that hinder your pace; make an end for shame, and bestir your self; for it is late, and the enemies increase, the cries are aug∣mented, and the danger waxeth more and more. At whole perswasions and vitupery, the poor Governour tryed if he could move himself; so he fell to the ground, and had such a fall, that he thought he had broken himself to pieces; and now he lay like a Tor∣toise, shut in and covered with his shell, or like a Flitch of Bacon clapped between two boords, or like a Boat overturned upon a flat; and for all his fall, those Scoffers had no compassion at all on him, but rather putting out their Torches, they began to re enforce their cryes, & to reiterate their Arme, Arm, so fast, running over poor Sancho, giving him an infinite company of flashes upon his Shields, that if he had not withdrawn himself, and shrunk his head up into them, the poor Governour had been in wofull plight; who being thus shrugged up in this straight, he was in a terrible sweat and berayed, and recommended himself heartily to God Almighty to deliver him from that danger. Some stumbled upon him, others fell, and another would get upon him for a good while, and from thence, as from a watch-Tower, governed the Army, and cryed aloud, Here on our side, here the enemies are thickest; Make this Breach good; keep that Gate shut; down with those Ladders, Wilde-fire-Balls, Pitch and Rozin, and Kettles of scalding Oyle: Trench the streets with Beds; in fine, he named all manner of Ware, Instruments, and Furniture of Warre for the defence of a City assaulted: And the bruised Sancho that heard and suffered all, said to himself; Oh that it would please the Lord that this Island were once lost, or that I were dead or delivered from this strait! Heaven heard his Petition, and when he least expected, he heard this cry, Victory, Victory, the Foes are vanquished. Ho, Sir Governour, rise, rise, enjoy the conquest, and divide the spoyles that are taken from the enemies, by the valour of your invincible arme.

Raise me, quoth the grieved Sancho, with a pittyfull voyce. They helpt to raise him, and being up, he said; Every enemie that I have vanquished, naile him in my fore-head: Ile divide no spoils of enemies, but desire some friend, if I have any, to give me a draught of Wine, that may dry up this sweat for I am all water. They wiped him, brought him Wine, and unbound the Shields from him; he sate upon his Bed, and with the very an∣guish of the sodain fright, and his toyle, he fell into a swound; and they that plaid that trick with him were sorry it fell out so heavily: but Sancho's comming straight to himself tempered their sorrow.

Hee asked them what a clock it was? They answered him it grew to be day.

Hee held his peace, and without more words, began to cloath himself, all buried in silence, and all beheld him, expecting what would bee the issue of his hasty dressing himself.

Thus by little and little, he made himself ready, for by reason of his wearinesse hee could not doe it very fast, and so went toward the Stable (all they that were there fol∣lowing him) and comming to Dapple he embraced and gave him a loving kisse on the fore-head, and not without tears in his eyes, said:

Come thou hither, companion mine and friend, fellow-partner of my labours and miseries; when I consorted with you, no other cares troubled me, then to mend thy Furniture, and to sustein thy little corps: happy then were my hours, dayes and yeers: but since I left thee, and mounted on the towers of Ambition and Pride, a thou∣sand miseries, a thousand toyles, four thousand unquietnesses have entred my soul. And as he was thus discoursing, he fitted on the Pack-saddle, no body saying ought unto him. Dapple being thus Pack-saddled, with much adoe he got upon him, and di∣recting his speeches and reasons to the Stward, the Doctor and many others there present, he said:

Give me room Sirs, and leave to return to my former liberty; let me seek my anci∣ent life, to rise from this present death: I was not born to bee a Governour, not to defend Islands nor Cities from enemies that would assault them: I can tell better how to Plough, to Digg, to Prune, and Plant Vineyards, then to give Laws, or de∣fend Provinces and Kingdomes: 'tis good sleeping in a whole skin: I mean 'tis fit

that every man should exercise the Calling to which hee was borne: a Sickle is better in my hand, then a Governours Scepter. I had rather fill my selfe with a good dish of Gaspachos, then bee subject to the misery of an impertinent Physician, that would kill mee with hunger: I had rather solace my selfe under the shade of an Oake in Summer, and cover my selfe with a double sheepe skinne in Winter quietly, then lay mee downe to the subjection of a Government in fine Holland sheetes, and bee clothed in Sables: fare you well Sir, and tell my Lord the Duke, Naked was I borne, naked I am, I ney∣ther winne nor lose: I meane, I came without crosse to this government, and I goe from it without a crosse, contrary to what Governours of other Islands are used to doe. Stand out of the way, and let mee goe, for I must seare-cloth my selfe; for I beleeve all my ribs are bruised, I thanke the enemy that trampled over mee all this night.

You shall not doe so, Sir Governour, quoth Doctor Rezio, for I will give you a drinke good against falls and bruises, that shall straight recover you: and touching your diet, I promise you to make amends, and you shall eat plentifully of what you list. 'Tis too late (quoth Sancho) Ile as soon tarry as turne Turke: these jests are not good the second time: you shall as soone get mee to stay here, or admit of any other Government, (though it were presented in two platters to mee) as make mee flye to heaven without wings. I am of the linage of the Panca's, and wee are all head-strong, and if once wee cry odd, odde it must bee (though it be even) in spite of all the world. Here in this Stable let my Ants wings remaine that lifted mee up in the ayre, to bee devouted by Marrlets and other birds, and now let's goe a plaine pace on the ground: and though wee weare no pinked Spanish-leather shoos, yet wee shall not want course pack-thread Sandals. Like to like, quoth the Devill to the Collier, and let every man cut his measure according to his cloth, and so let mee goe, for it is late.

To which quoth the Steward, With a very good will you should goe, though wee shall bee very sorry to lose you: for your judgement and Christian proceeding oblige us to desire your company: but you know, that all Governours are obliged, before they depart from the place which they have governed, to render first an ac∣count of their place, which you ought to doe for the tenne daies you have governed; and so Gods peace bee with you.

No man can aske any account of mee, said hee, but hee whom my Lord the Duke will appoint; to him I goe, and to him Ile give a fi••ting account: besides, I going from hence so bare as I doe, there can bee no greater signe that I have governed like an Angell.

I protest (quoth Doctor Rezio) the Grand Sancho hath a great deale of reason, and I am of opinion that wee let him goe; for the Duke will bee infinitely glad to see him. So all agreed, and let him goe, offering first to accompany him, and whatsoever hee had need of for himselfe, or for the commodiousnesse of his Voyage.

Sancho told them, hee desired nothing but a little Barley for Dapple, and halfe a Cheese and a Loafe for himselfe; for that by reason of the shortnesse of the way, hee needed no other provision. All of them embraced him, and hee with teares em∣braced them, and left them astonished, as well at his discourse, as his most resolute and discreet determination.

CHAP. LIV.

That treats of matters concerening this History and no other.

THe Duke and Duchesse were resolved that Don-Quixote's Challenge that hee made against their Vassall for the aforesaid cause, should goe forward; and though the young man were in Flanders, whi∣ther hee fled because hee would not have Donna Rodriguez to his Mother in Law, yet they purposed to put a Gascoigne Lackey in his stead, which was called Tosilos, instructing him first very well in all that hee had to doe.

Some two daies after, the Duke said to Don-Quixote, that within foure daies his contrary would bee present, and present himselfe in the field like an armed Knight, and maintaine that the Damzell lied in her throat, if shee affirmed that hee had pro∣mised her marriage. Don-Quixote was much pleased with this newes, and promised to himselfe to worke miracles in this businesse, and hee held it to bee a speciall happi∣nesse to him, that occasion was offered, wherein those Nobles might see how far the valor of his powerfull arme extended: and so with great jocundnesse and content, hee expected the foure daies which in the reckoning of his desire, seemed to him to bee foure hundred Ages. Let wee them passe (as wee let passe divers other matters) and come to the Grand Sancho, to accompany him, who betwixt mirth and mour∣ning, upon Dapple went to seeke out his Master, whose company pleased him more then to bee Governour of all the Islands in the world.

It fell out so, that hee having not gone very farre from the Island of his Govern∣ment (for hee never stood to averre whether it were Island, Citty, Village, or Towne which hee governed) hee saw that by the way hee went, there came sixe Pilgrimes with their walking staves, your strangers that use to beg almes singing, who when they came neere, beset him round, and raising their voyces all together, began to sing in their language, what Sancho could not understand, except it were one word, which plain∣ly signified Almes, which hee perceived they begged in their song. And hee (as saith Cid Hamete) being very charitable, tooke halfe a Loafe, and halfe a Cheese out of his wallet, of which hee was provided, and gave it them, telling them by singnes hee had nothing else to give them: they received it very willingly, and said, Guelte, Guelte. I understand you not what you would have (good people) quoth Sancho. Then one of them tooke a purse out of his bosome, and shewed it to Sancho, whereby hee understood they asked him for money; but hee putting his thumbe to his throat, and his hand up∣ward, gave them to understand hee had not a Denier; and spurting Dapple, hee broke thorow them: and passing by one of them looking wishly upon him, layd hold on him, and casting his armes about his middle, with a loud voyce, and very good spa∣nish, said, God defend mee, and what doe I see? is it possible I have my deare friend in my armes, my honest neighbour Sancho Panca? Yes sure I have, for I neyther sleep, nor am drunke.

Sancho wondred to heare himselfe so called by his name, and to see himselfe em∣braced by a Pilgrime-stranger, and after hee had beheld him a good while, without speaking a word, and with much attention, yet hee could never call him to mind: but the Pilgrime seeing his suspension, said:

How ••ow, is it possible, Brother Sancho Panca, thou knowest not thy neighhour Ricote the Morisco Grocer of thy towne? Then Sancho, beheld him more earnestly, and began to remember his favour, and finally knew him perfectly: and so without alighting from his Asse, hee cast his armes about his neck, and said, Who the Devill, Ricote, could know thee, in this vizardly disguize? What's the matter? who hath made such a Franchote of thee? [A word of disgrace the Spaniard useth to all strangers,

but chiefly to the French:] and how darest thou return back again into Spain? where if thou bee catcht or known, woe bee to thee? If thou reveal me not Sancho, I am safe, quoth the Pilgrim; for in this disguise no body will know me: Come let's goe out of the high-way into yonder Elme Grove, for there my companions mean to dine and repose themselves, and thou shalt eat with them, for they are very good people, and there I shall have leisure to tell thee what hath befaln me, since I departed from our Town to obey his Majesties Edict, which so rigorously threatned those unfortunate ones of our Natiou, as thou heardst.

Sancho consented, and Ricote speaking to the rest of the Pilgrims, they went to the Elme Grove that appear'd a pretty way distant from the high-way, they flung down their staves, and cast off their Pilgrims weeds, and so remained in Hose and doublet; and all of them were young and handsome fellows, except Ricote, who was well entred in yeers: all of them had Wallets, which were (all to see to) well provided at least with incitatives that provoked to drink two miles off.

They sate upon the ground, and making Table-clothes of the Grasse; they set upon it Bread, Salt, Knives, Wall-nuts, slices of Cheese, and clean Gammon of Bacon-bones; which though they would not let themselves bee gnawed, yet they forbade not to bee sucked.

They set down likewise a kinde of black meat, called Caviary, made of Fishes Eggs; a great Alarum to the bottle, there wanted no Olives, though they were dry without any Pickle; yet savory, and made up a dish: but that which most flourisht in the field of that Banquet was, six bottles of wine, which each of them drew out of his Wallet; even honest Ricote too, who had transformed himself from a M••risco into a Germane or Dutch-man, hee drew out his that for quantitie might compare with the whole five.

Thus they began to eat with great content, and very leisurely relishing every bit which they took, upon a Knives point, and very little of every thing; and straight all of them together would lift their armes and Bottles up into the aire, putting their own mouthes to the Bottles mouthes, their eyes nailed in Heaven, as if they had shot at it: and in this fashion moving their heads from one side to the other, signes of their good liking of the Wine, they remained a good while, straining the entrails of the Vessells in their sto∣macks.

Sancho marked all, and was grieved at nothing; rather to fulfill the Proverb, that hee very well knew, [Cum sueris Romae, &c] When thou goest to Rome, &c. hee de∣sired the Bottle of Ricote, and so took his ayme as well as the rest, and with no lesse delight then they: thus the Bottles suffered themselves to be hoisted on end four times: but it was not possible the fift: for they were now as soakt and dry as a Matteresse, which made their joy hitherto shewn, now very muddy: now and then one of them would take Sancho by the right hand, and say, Spaniard and Dutchman all one, bon compagno. And Sancho answered, Bon compagno, juro a di: [Swears in a broken language:] and with that discharged such a laughter as lasted a long houre, not remembring as then ought that had befaln him in his Government; for cares are wont to have little juris∣diction upon leisure and idlenesse, whilest men are eating and drinking.

Finally, the ending of their Wine, was the beginning of a drowsinesse that seized upon them all, so they even fell to sleep where they sate; only Ricote and Sancho watch∣ed it out, for they had eaten more and drunk lesse: so Ricote taking Sancho apart, they sate at the foot of a Beech, leaving the Pilgrims buried in sweet sleep, and Ricote with∣out stumbling a jot into his Morisco tongue, in pure Castillian language, uttered to him this ensuing discourse.

Thou well knowest, O Sancho Panca, friend and neighbour mine, how the Procla∣mation and Edict that his Majesty commanded to bee published against those of my Nation, put us all into a feare and fright, at least me it did: and mee thought, that before the time that was limited us for our departure from Spain; the very rigor of the penalty was executed upon me and my children.

I provided therefore (in my judgement wisely) as hee which knows that by such a

time the house hee lives in shall bee taken from him, and so provides himself another against hee is to change: I provided, I say, to leave our Town, all alone without my Family, and to seek some place whither I might Commodiously carry them, and not in such a hurry as the rest that went: For I well saw, and so did all our graver sort, that those Proclamations were not only threats, as some said, but true Laws to bee put in execution at their due time: and I was enforced to beleeve this truth; because I knew the Villanous, but foolish attempts of our Nation; such, as me thought it was a divine inspiration that moved his Majestie, to put so brave a resolution in effect: not because wee are all faulty; for some there were firm and true Christians; but they were so few, they could not bee opposed to those that were otherwise: and it was not fit to nourish a Serpent in his bosome, and to have enemies within doors.

Finally, wee were justly punished with the penalty of Banishment, which seemed to some soft and sweet; but to us the terriblest that could bee inflicted: whereso∣ever wee are, wee weep to think on Spain; for indeed here wee were borne, and it is our naturall Country; wee no where finde the entertainment that our misfortune de∣sires, and in Barbary, and all parts of Africa, where we thought to have been received, entertained, and cherished; there it is where wee are most offended and misused: wee knew not our happinesse till wee lost it, and the desire wee all have to return to Spain is so great, that the most part of such (which are many) who speak the language, as I doe, return hither again, and leave their Wives and Children there forsaken, so great is the love they bear their Country, and now I know and finde by experience that the saying is true, Sweet is the love of ones Country.

I went (as I say) out of our. Town and came into France, and though there wee were well entertained, yet I would see it all; and so passed into Italy, and arrived in Germany; and there I found we might live with more freedome; for the Inhabitants doe not look much into niceties, every one lives as hee pleaseth; for in the greatest part of it there is liberty of Conscience.

There I took a house in a Town neer Augusta, and so joyned with these Pilgrims that usually come for spain, many of them every yeer to visit the Devotions here, which are their Indies, and certain gain, they travell all the Kingdom over; and there is no Town from whence they goe not away with meat and drink (as you would say) at least, and six-pence in money; and when they have ended their Voyage, they goe away with a hundred Crowns over-plus, which changed into gold either in the hollows of their Staves, or the patches of their weeds, or by some other slight they can, they carry out of the Kingdome, and passe into other Countries, in spight of the Searchers of the dry Ports, where the money ought to bee registred. And now Sancho, my purpose is to carry away the treasure that I left buryed; for, because it is without the Town, I may doe it without danger, and write from Valencia to my Wife and Daughter that I know are in Argiers, and contrive how I may bring them to some Port of France, and from thence carry them into Germany, where wee will expect how God will please to dispose of us; for indeed Sancho, I know certainly that Ricota my Daughter, and Francisca Ricota my Wife, are Catholike Christians: and though I bee not altogether so, yet I am more Christian then Moor; and my desire to God alwaies is, to open the eyes of my understanding, and to let me know how I may serve him.

And all I admire, is, that my Wife and Daughter should rather goe into Barbarie then into France, where they mgiht have lived as Christians.

To which Sancho said, Look you Ricote, perhaps they could not doe withall; for Iohn Tyopeio your Wives Brother carried them: and he, belike, as hee was a rank Moor, would goe where hee thought best: and I can tell you more, I think 'tis in vain for you to seek what you left hidden; for wee had news that your Brother in law, and your Wife had many Pearls taken from them, and a great deal of gold which was not registred.

That may very well bee Sancho (quoth Ricote) but I know they touched not my Treasure. For I would not tell them where it was hidden, as fearing some mishap; and therefore if thou wilt come with me Sancho, and help me to take it out, and conceal it,

Ile give thee two hundreth Crownes to the reliefe of thy necessities, for thou knowest, I know thou hast many.

Were I covetous (quoth Sancho) I would yeeld to this; and were I so, this mor∣ning I left an Office, which had I kept, I might have made my house walles of Gold, and within one sixe moneths have eaten in silver dishes: so that partly for this, and partly not to bee a Traitour to my King, in favouring his enemies, I will not goe with thee, though thou wouldst give me four hundreth Crownes.

And what Office was that thou leftest Sancho, quoth Ricote?

I left to bee Governour of an Island (quoth Sancho) and such a one, that yfaith in three Bow-shootes again you shall scarce meet with such another.

And where is this Island, said hee? Where, quoth Sancho? Why, two Leagues off, and it is called the Island Barataria.

Peace, Sancho, quoth Ricote: for your Islands are out in the Sea, you have no Islands in the Terra Firma.

No, quoth Sancho? I tell you, friend, Ricote, this morning I left it; and yesterday I governed in it at my pleasure like a Sagittarius: but yet I left it, as thinking the Go∣vernours Office to bee dangerous.

And what have you gotten by it, quoth Ricote? I have gotten (said hee) this ex∣perience, that I am not fit to governe ought but a Herd of Cattell, and that in those kind of Governments there is no wealth gotteo, but with labour, toyle, losse of sleep and sustenance: for in your Islands your Governours fare very ill; especially if they have Physitians that looke to their health.

I understand thee not, Sancho, quoth Ricote: but me thinkes thou talkest without sense: for who would give thee Islands to govern? want there in the world more able men then thou to bee Governours? Peace, Sancho, and returne to thy wits, and see if thou wilt goe with mee, as I have said, and help mee take out the Treasure that I have hidden, for it may very well bee called a Treasure; and I will give thee suffici∣ent to maintaine thee.

I have told thee, Ricote, quoth Sancho, that I will not: let it suffice, I will not dis∣cover thee, and goe on thy way, on Gods name, and leave mee to mine: for I know that what is well gotten, is lost; but what is ill gotten, it and the Owner too.

I will not bee too earnest with thee, said hee: but tell mee, wast thou in our town, when my Wife, my Daughter, and my Brother in law departed? Marry was I (quoth Sancho) and I can tell you, your Daughter shewed so beautifull, that all the Towne went out to see her: and every one said shee was the fairest creature in the world: shee went weeping, and embraced all her friends and acquaintances, and as many as came to see her, and intreated all to recommend her to God, and this so feelingly, that shee made mee weep, that am no Bel-weather: and yfaith many had a good minde to have concealed her, and to take her away upon the way: but feare of resisting the Kings commandement, made them abstaine: hee that shewed himselfe most enamoured, was Don Pedro Gregorio, that Youth, the rich heyre that you know very well; hee, they say, loved her very much, and since shee went, was never seene more in our Towne, and wee all thought hee followed to steale her away: but hitherto there is nothing knowne.

I alwayes suspected (quoth Ricote) that this Gentleman loved my Daughter: but being confident in Ricota's worth, is never troubled mee, to know that hee loved her well: for I am sure Sancho, thou hast heard say, that Morisco women seldome or never for love married with old Christians: and so my Daughter, who, as I beleeve, rather tended her soules health then to bee enamoured, cared little for this rich heires sollici∣ting.

God grant it, quoth Sancho: for it would bee very ill for them both: and now, Ricote, let mee goe from hence, for I meane this night to see my Master Don-Quixote.

God bee with thee, Brother Sancho: for now my companions are sti••ring and it is time to be on our way: and staight both of them tooke leave; and Sancho gate upon Dapple, and Ricote leant on his Pilgrims Staff; and so both departed.

CHAP. LV.

Of matters that befell Sancho by the way, and others the best in the World.

SANCHO'S long stay with Ricote was the cause that hee reached not that day to the Dukes Castle, though hee came within half a league of it, where the night took him, somewhat dark and close but being Summer time, it troubled him not much, and therefore hee went out of the way, purposing to rest till the morning: but as ill luck would have it, seeking a place where he might best ac∣commodate himself, hee and Dapple fell into a most dark and deep pit, which was amongst certain ruinous buildings; and as he was falling, hee recommended himself withall his heart to God, thinking hee should not stop till hee came to Hell, but it fell out otherwise; for within a little more then three fathoms length, Dapple felt ground, and hee sate still upon him without any hurt or dammage received.

Hee felt all his body over, and held in his breath to see if hee were sound or pierced any where: but seeing himself well and whole, and in catholike health, hee thought hee could never praise God sufficiently for the favour he had done him: for hee thought verily hee had been beaten into a thousand pieces: hee went likewise groping with his hands about the walls of the pit, to see if it were possible to get out without help; but hee found them all smooth, without any place to lay hold on, which grieved him very much, especially when he heard Dapple cry out tenderly and dolefully, and no marvell: for it was not for wantonnes, he saw himself in a pittifull taking.

Alas (quoth Sancho then ••) and what sodain and unthought of accidents befall men that live in this miserable world? who would have supposed that hee, who yesterday saw himself inthronized Governour of an Island, commanding Servants and Vassals, should to day be buried in a Pit, without any bodies help, without Servant or Vassall comming to succour him?

Here I and my Asse are like to perish with hunger, if so bee that first wee dye not; hee with his bruise, I with grief and anguish: at least I shall not bee so happie as my Master Don-Quixote was when hee descended and went down into that enchanted Cave of Montesinos, where hee found better welcome then if hee had been at his own house; and it seemed hee found the cloth ready layd, and his bed made; there saw hee goodly and pleasant Visions: and here (I beleeve) I shall see nothing but Toads and Snakes: unfortuuate that I am; what is my madnesse and folly come to? My bones will be fetcht out from hence (when it shall please Heaven that I am found) white and smooth, the flesh pickt off, and my trustie Dapples with them; whereupon peradven∣ture it shall bee known who wee are, at least by those that shall take notice that Sancho and the Asse never parted, nor the Asse from Sancho. Again, I say, Unhappy we! our ill fortune would not that wee should dye in our Country and amongst our friends, where, though our misfortune had found no redresse; yet wee should not have wanted pittie, and at last gasp we should have had our eyes closed. Oh companion mine and friend! how ill have I rewarded thy honest service? Pardon me; and desire Fortune in the best manner thou canst, to deliver us from this miserable toyle in which wee are both put; and I here promise to set a Crown of Lawrel on thy head, that thou shalt look like a Poet Lawreat; and I will double thy Provander allowance.

Thus Sancho lamented, and his Asse hearkned to him, without answering a word; such was the strait and anguish in which the poor Scab found himself.

Finally, having passed over the whole night in complaints and lamentations, the day

came on, with whose cleernes••e and splendor Sancho saw that there was no manner of possibility to get out of that well without help, and he began again to lament and make a noyse, to see if any body heard him: but all his crying out was as in a Desart; for in all the Country round about, there was none to hearken to him: and then Dapple lay with his mouth open, and Sancho thought hee had been dead: yet hee so handled the matter, that hee set him upon his leggs; and taking a piece of bread out of his Wallets (which had runne the same fortune with them) hee gave it his Asse, which came not amisse to him; and Sancho said to him, as if hee had understood it, Sorrows great are lessened with meat.

By this hee discovered on the one side of the Pit a great hole, whereat a man might passe thorow, crooking and stooping a little. Sancho drew to it, and squatting down, entred in, and saw that within it was large and spacious, and hee might well discerne it; for by a place that you might call the roof, the Sun-beam entred in, that discovered it all: hee saw likewise that it was enlarged by another spacious concavitie: which when hee saw, he turned back again to his Asse, and with a stone began to pull down the earth of the hole, and in a little while made way for his Asse to goe out, which hee did, and Sancho leading him by the halter went forward along the Cave, to see if he could finde any egresse on the other side; sometimes he went dark long and without light; but never without fear. Lord God! said hee, this that to me is a misfortuue, were to my Master Don-Quixote a famous Adventure; hee would think these profundities and Dungeons were flowery Gardens, and Galiana's Palaces, and hee would hope to get out of this straightnesse and darknesse into some flowry Field: but I unfortunate, ill∣advised, and faint-hearred! think that every moment I shall fall into a deeper profun∣ditie then this former, that will swallow me down-right: 'tis a good ill that comes alone. In this mannar, and in this imagination hee thought he had gone somewhat more then half a league; and at last he discovered a kinde of twy-light, as if it had been day, and, came in at some open place, which seemed to open an entrance to another world.

Here Cid Hamete Benengeli leaves him, and turns again to treat of Don-Quixote, who, jocund and contented expected the prefixed time, for the Combate hee was to performe with the dishonourer of Donna Rodriguez Daughter, and thought to rectifie the wrong and uncouth turn she had done her.

It fell out then that going out one morning to exercise and practise against the Traunce in which e're long hee was to see himself •• fetching up Rozinante with a full Career, he came close to a Caves mouth; that had hee not reined him in hard, it had been impossible but hee must have fallen into it.

Well he stopt him, and fell not in: and comming somewhat neerer, without alight∣ing, lookt into that depth, and beholding of it, heard a great noyse within, and heark∣ning, attentively, he might perceive and understand that he that made it, cryed out, Ho, above there, is there any Christian that hears me? or any charitable Gentleman that will take pittie of a sinner buried alive? of an unhappy ungovern'd Gover∣nour?

Don-Quixote thought he heard Sancho Panca's voice, at which he was in suspence and affrighted: but raising his voyce as high as he could, he said, Who is below there? Who is that cryes out? Who should be here? or who should cry out, they answered, but the weather-beaten Sancho Panca Governour with a Pox to him, for his ill-Erran∣trie of the Island Barataria, Squire sometime to the famous Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha?

When Don-Quixote heard this, his admiration was doubled, and his astonishment increased, as thinking Sancho Panca might be dead, and that his soul was there doing penance: and carried with this imagination, he said, I conjure thee by all I may, as I am a Catholike Christian, that thou tell me who thou art: and if thou beest a soul in penalty, tell me what thou wilt have me do for thee; for since my profession is to suc∣cour and help the needy of this world, it shall alwaies be so to help and ayd the needie in another world, that cannot help themselves.

Then, said they below, Belike you that speak to mee are my Master Don-Quixote

de la Mancha, and by the Organ of your voice can bee no other.

Don-Quixote I am, quoth hee, that both ayde the living and dead in their neces∣sities. Therefore tell mee, who thou art, for thou amazest mee: for if thou bee Sancho Panca my Squire, and that being dead, the Divell have not seyzed on thee, and by Gods mercy thou bee in Purgatory, our holy Mother the Catholike Romane Church hath sufficient suffrages, to deliver thee from the paine thou endurest, and I with my wealth will sollicite all that I can: and therefore make an end, and tell mee who thou art.

Gods mee, by whose birth so ever you will, Signior Don-Quixote: I swea••e I am your Squire Sancho panca, and I never dyed in all my life; but that having left my Government for matters and causes that must bee told more at leisure; over-night I fell into this Pit, where I lye and Dapple too, who will prove mee to bee no lyar: for hee is here with mee: Will you any more? And it seemed, the Asse understood what Sancho said: for at the instant, hee began to bray so loud, that all the Cave resounded.

A famous witnesse, quoth Don-Quixote, I know this Bray, as if I had brought it forth, and I heare thy voice, my Sancho: Stay, and Ile goe to the Dukes Castle that is here hard by: and I will get some to help thee out of this Pit, into which thy sins have cast thee.

Goe, Sir (quoth Sancho) for Gods love, and returne quickly: for I can no longer endure to bee buried here alive, and I dye for feare. Don-Quixote left him, and went to the Castle to let the Dukes know Sancho's mis-hap: at which they marvelled not a little, though they knew well enough how hee might fall in for the knowledge they had, time out of minde of that Vault: but they could not imagine how hee had left his Government, they knowing nothing of his comming. Finally, they caused Ropes and Cables to bee sent, and with much cost and labour of people, Sancho and Dapple were drawne out of that dismanesse to the sunns light. A Scholler saw him, and said, Thus should all bad Governors come out of their Governments, as this sinner doth out of this profound Abisme, pale dead for hunger, and (as I beleeve) without a crosse to blesse him with.

Sancho heard him, and said, 'Tis eight or ten dayes, Good-man Murmurer, since I began to governe the Island; in all which I never eat bread that kept mee from hunger one houre; in all that time Physicians have persecuted mee, and enemies have bruised my bones: neither have I had leisure to take bribes, or to recover my due; which be∣ing so, I deserved not (in my opinion) to come out in this manner: but man purposeth, and God disposeth: and God best knowes what each man needeth: and let every man fit himselfe to the times, and no man say, Ile drink no more of such a drink: for where wee thinke to fare well, there is oft ill usage, God Almighty knowes my minde, 'tis enough and I say no more, though I could. Bee not angry, Sancho, nor vext with what thou hearest, for so thou shalt never bee in quiet: come with a good conscience, let them say what they will; for to bridle malicious tongues, is as much as to set Gates in the High-way.

If a Governour come rich from his Government, they say hee hath played the Thief: and if poor, that he hath been a weak unable Cox-comb.

I warrant you (quoth Sancho) this bout, they shall rather hold mee to bee a Cox∣bombe then a Thief. With this discourase they went toward the Castle hemmed in with many boyes, and other people; where the Duke and Duchesse were in certaine running Galleries, expecting Don-Quixote and Sancho: who, before hee would goe up to see the Duke, would first accommodate Dapple in the Stable: for hee said hee had had a marvellous ill night on't at their lodging; and so straight hee went up to see his Lords, before whom upon his knees, he said; I, my Lords, because your Greatnesses would needs have it so, without any desert of mine, went to govern your Island, Ba∣rataria; into which, naked I entred, and naked come I out, I neither win nor lose, whether I governed well or ill, here bee witnesses present to say what they please: I have resolved Doubts; sentenced Causes, and have been ready to bee starved: because Master Doctor Pedro Rezio, borne at Tirte a fuera, would have it so that Island and Governourish Physician; enemies set upon us by night: and having put us in great

danger, they of the Island say that they were freed, and got the vict••ry, by the valour of my arme; such health God send them, as they tell truth herein.

In fine, I have summed up all the burdens and the cares that this governing brings with it, and finde by my account, that my shoulders cannot beare them; neither are they a weight for my ribbes, nor Arrowes for my quiver: and therefore, left I should bee cast away in my Government, I have cast it away, and since yesterday morning I left the Island as I found it, with the same streets, houses, and roofes that it had when I came into it.

I have borrowed nothing of no body, nor hoorded up any thing: and though I thought to have made some profitable Ordinances, yet I did not, as fearing they would not be kept, which is as much as if they had never been made.

I left the Island (as I say) without any bodies accompanying mee, but Dapple: I fell into a Pit, went forward in it, untill this morning by the Sunnes light I got out: but not so easily; for if heaven had not provided mee my Master Don-Quixote, there I had stucke till the end of the world.

So that my Lords, Duke and Duchesse, here is Sancho Panca your Governour, that hath onely learnt to know in these ten daies that hee hath govern'd, that hee cares not for governing, not an Island, nay were it the whole world: this presupposed, kissing your Honours hands, imitating boyes play, that cry, Leape thou, and then let mee leape; [Like our Trusse or Faile:] So I leape from the Government, and passe again to my Master Don-Quixotes service: for in fine, though with him I eate my victuals sometimes in fear, yet I have my belly full; and so that be, alls one to mee, that it bee with Carrets, or with Partridge. With this, Sancho ended his tedious discourse: Don-Quixote searing alwayes that hee would blunder out a thousand fopperies: but feeing him end with so few, hee thanked Heaven in his heart: and the Duke embraced Sancho, and said, Hee was sorry in his soule that hee left the Government so quickly: but that hee would cause some Office of lesse trouble, and more profit in his estate to bee given him: the Duchesse likewise embraced him, and commanded hee should bee made much of, for he seemed to be much wearied, and to be worse entreated.

CHAP. LVI.

Of the unmercifull and never seene battell that passed betwixt Don-Quixote and the Lackey Tosilos, in defence of the Matron Don∣na-Rrodriguez Daughter.

THe Dukes repented them not of the jest that was put upon Sancho in the Government which they gave him; especially, because that very day their Steward came, and told them very punctu∣ally all the words and actions, that Sancho both did and said in that time: and finally, so describ'd the assault of the Island, and so set out Sancho's feare, and sallie, that they received no small delight.

After this, the History tels us, that the day of the prefixed battaile came, and the Duke having oft instructed his Lackey Tosilos how hee should behave himselfe with Don-Quixote to overcome him, without killing or wounding him: hee gave order that their Pikes should bee taken from their Launces, telling Don-Quixote, that Christianitie (which hee preferred) permitted not, that that battell should bee with so much hazzard and danger of their lives: and that it was enough that hee granted him free. Lists in his Countrey, though it were against the Decree of the

holy Councell, that prohibites such challenges; yet hee would not put that matter so strictly in execution.

Don-Quixote bade his Excellency dispose of that businesse as hee pleased, and that hee would obey him in all.

The fearefull day being come, the Duke commanded that there should bee a spacious scaffold set up in the place where the Judges of the Lists might stand; and the Matron and her daughter the Plaintiffs.

There repaired a world of people, from all the townes, and neighbouring Villages, to see the noveltie of that battaile, who never saw, nor ever heard tell of the like in that Countrey; neither the living, nor those that where dead. The first that entred the field and Lists, was, the Master of the Ceremonies, who measured out the ground, and passed all over it, that there might bee no deceit, nor any hidden thing to make them stumble or fall: by and by the women entred, and sate downe in their seates, with their mantles over their eyes and brests, with shews of no small resenting; Don-Quixote present in the Lists.

A while after, the Grand Lackey Tosilos, appear'd on one side of the large place, ac∣companied with many Trumpets, and upon a lusty Courser, sinking the very ground under him: his Visor was drawn, and hee was all arraied in strong and shining Armor, his horse was Frizeland, well spred, of colour flea-bitten, each set-locke having nine and twenty pound of wooll upon it. The valiant Combatant came, well instructed by his Master, how hee should demeane himselfe with the valorous Don-Quixote de la Mancha, advertized that hee should by no meanes kill him, but that hee should strive to shunne the first encounter, to 'excuse the danger of his death which was certaine, if hee met him full butt. Hee paced over the place, and comming where the Matron was, hee stayd a while to behold her that demanded him for her husband. The Master of the Lists called Don-Quixote, that had now presented himselfe in the place, and toge∣ther with Tosilos: he spoke to the women, asking them, if they agreed that Don-Quixote de la Mancha should undertake their cause. They said, I, and that they allowed of all hee should in that case performe, for firm and available.

By this the Duke and Duchesse were set in a Gallery, which looked just to the Lists all which was covered with aboundance of people, that expected to see the rigorous trance never seene.

The conditions of the Combatant was, That if Don-Quixote overcame his Con∣trary, hee should marry with Donna Rodriguez daughter; and that if he were overcome, his Contendor was freed from his promise given, and not tyed to any satisfaction. The Master of the Ceremonies divided the Sunne betweene them, and set each of them in their places. The Drums strooke up, and the sound of Trumpets filled the ayre, the earth shooke under them, and the hearts of the spectator troope, were in suspence, some fearing, others expecting the good or ill succes••e of this matter.

Finally, Don-Quixote recommending himselfe heartily to God and his Mistris Dulcinea del Toboso, stood looking when the precise signe of the encounter should bee given: but our Lackey was in another mind, hee thought upon what now I will tell you It seemes, that as hee stood looking upon his enemy, shee seemed to him to bee the fairest, woman in the world, and the little blinde boy, whom up and downe the streets folk call Love, would not lose the occasion offered, to triumph upon a Lackeyan soule, & to put it in the list of his Trophies: and so comming to him, faire and softly, with∣out any body perceiving him, hee clapped a flight two yards long into his left side, and strooke his heart thorow and thorow, and hee might safely doe it; for love is invi∣sible, and goes in and out where hee 〈◊〉〈◊〉; no body asking him any account of his acti∣ons. Let mee tell you then, that when the signe of the on set was given, our Lackey was ••eamsported, thinking on the beauty of her that hee had made Mistris of his liberty, and so hee tooke no notice of the Trumpets sound, as did Don-Quixote, who scarce heard it, when hee set spurres, and with as full speed as Rozinant•• would permit, went against his enemy, and his good squire Sancho Panca, seeing him depart, cryed out a∣loud, God guide thee, Creame and Flower of Knights Errant, God give thee the vi∣ctory,

seeing thou hast right on thy side: And though Tosilus saw Don-Quixote come toward him, yet hee moved not a whit from his place, but rather aloude called the Master of the Lists, who comming to see what hee would have, To∣silos said.

Sir, doth not this Battell consist in my marrying or not marrying with that Gen∣tlewoman? Yes, it was answered him. Well then (quoth the Lackey) I am scru∣pulous of Conscience, which would much be burthened if this Battell should proceede: And therefore I say, I yeeld my self vanquished, and will marry this Gentlewoman presently.

The Master of the Lists wondred at Tosilos reasons; and as he was one of those that knew of the contriving that businesse, could not answere him a word.

Don-Quixote stopped in the middest of his Careere, seeing his Enemy met not.

The Duke knew nothing why the Combat should not goe forward; but the Master of the Lists went to tell him what Tosilos said, at which he was in suspence, and extrem∣ly chollerick.

Whilest this happened, Tosilos came where Donna Rodriguez was, and cried a∣loude, Mistresse, I will marry your Daughter, and therefore will never strive for that with Suites and Contentions, which I may have Peaceably, and without danger of Death.

The valorous Don-Quixote heard this, and said; Seeing 'tis so and that I am loosed and free from my promise, let them marry on Gods name, and since God hath given her him, S. Peter blesse her.

The Duke now came down into the Place, and coming to Tosilos said; Is it true, Knight, that you yield your selfe vanquished, and that instigated by your timorous Con∣science, you will marry that Maid? I Sir, quoth Tosilos.

He doth very well, quoth Sancho then, for that thou wouldst give the Mouse, give the Cat, and he will free thee from trouble.

Tosilos began now to unlace his Helmet, and desired them to helpe him apace, for his spirits and his breath failed him, and he could not endure to see himselfe so long shut up in that norrow Chamber. They undid it apace, and now the Lackies face was plainly dis∣covered. Which when Donna Rrdriguez and her Daughter saw, they cryed out saying; This is coozenage, this is coozenage: They have put Tosilos my Lord the Dukes Lackey in stead of our true Husband: Justice from God and the King, for such malice, not to say, villany.

Grieve not your selves Ladies, quoth Don-Quixote; for this is neyther malice nor villany, and if it bee, the Duke is not in fault, but vilde Enchanters that persecute mee; who envying that I should get the glory of this Conquest, have converted the face of your Husband into this, which you say is the Dukes Lackey: take my Councell, and in spight of the malice of my Enemies, marry him, for doubtlesse, tis he that you desire to have to Husband.

The Duke that heard this, was ready to burst all his choller into laughter, and said; The things that happen to Signior Don-Quixote are so extraordinary, that it makes mee beleeve this is not my Lackey; but let us use this sleight and device, let us defer the mar∣riage only one fifteen dayes, and keep this personage that holds us in doubt, locked up, in which perhaps he will return to his pristine shape; for the rancor that Enchanters beare Signior Don-Quixote, will not laste so long, they gayning so little by these coze∣nages and transformations they use.

O Sir, quoth Sancho, these wicked Elves doe usually change one thing into another in my Masters affaires: not long since they changed a Knight hee conquered, called The Knight of the Looking-glasses, into the shape of the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, borne in our town, and our speciall friend, and they turned my Mistrisse Dulcinea del Toboso into a Rustick Clowne: and so I imagine this Lackie will live and die so, all daies of his life.

To which (quoth Rodriguez Daughter) let him bee who hee will that demands mee to Wife (I thanke him) I had rather bee lawfull wife to a Lackey, then a

Paramour to bee mocked by a Gentleman, though besides hee that abused mee is none.

The upshot of all was, that Tosilos should bee kept up, till they saw what became of his transformation. All cryed, Don-Quixote's was the Victorie, and the most were sad and Melancholy, to see that the expected Combatants had not beaten one another to peeces; as boyes are sad, when the party they looke for comes not out to be hanged, when eyther the contrary, or the Justice pardons him.

The people departed, and the Duke and the Duchesse returned, and Don-Quixote with them to the Castle, Tosilos was shut up, Donna Rodriguez and her Daughter were most happy, to see that one way or other, that businesse should end in marriage, and Tosilos hoped no lesse.

CHAP. LVII.

How Don-Quixote tooke his leave of the Duke, and what befell him with the witty-Wanton Altisidora, the Duchesses Damozell.

NOw it seemed good to Don-Quixote, to leave the idle life hee had in the Castle, thinking it a great wrong to his person, to bee shut up, and lazy amongst so many delights and dainties as were offered to him as a Knight Errant by those Nobles, and hee thought hee was to give a strict account to Heaven for that idlenesse and retirement, and so asked licence one day of the Dukes to depart: which they gave him, but seemed to bee very sorrowfull that hee would leave them. The Duchesse gave Sancho Panca his wives Letters, who wept in them, and said, Who would have thought that such great hopes as the newes of my Government, en∣gendred in my Wife Teresa Panca's brest, should stop in this, that I must return to my Master Don-Quixote's dragged Adventures? For all that, I am glad to see that my Te∣resa was like her selfe, by sending the Acorns to the Duchesse, which if shee had not sent, I being sorry shee had shewed her selfe ungratefull: my comfort is, that this kinde of Present could not bee called a bribe; for I had my Government before shee sent it, and 'tis very fit that they who receive a benefit, though it bee but in tristes, shew them∣selves thankfull. In effect, naked I came into the Government, and naked I goe out of it, and therefore I may say (which is no small matter) with a safe Conscience, Naked was I borne, naked I am I neyther win nor lose. This Sancho discoursed with himselfe at the time when he was to depart and Don-Quixote going out, (having taken his leave the night before of the Dukes) one morning hee presented himselfe all armed in the Castle Court, all the people of the house beheld him from the Galleries, and the Dukes too went out to see him. Sancho was upon his Dapple, with his Wallets, his Cloak∣bagge, and his Sumpter-provision most frollike; for the Dukes Steward, hee that had been Trifaldis, gave him a purse with two hundred crownes in gold, to supply his wants by the way, and yet Don-Quixote knew nothing of this.

Whilest all were thus beholding him, unlookt for, amongst other Matrons and Damzells of the Duchesses, the witty and wanton Altisidora beheld him, and with a wofull voyce said;

HEarken, O thou wicked Knight; Hold a little backe thy reines; Doe not so bestirre the ••lanke, Of thy most ungovern'd beast.

False; behold, thou ••liest not From a Serpent that is fierce, No; but from a little Lambe, Lacks not much of being a Sheep Horrid Monster, th'hast abused The most beauteous Damozell, That Diana in hills hath seene, Or Venus in woods beheld. Cruell Virenus, Aeneas fugitive, Barrabas take thee, never maist thou thrive.

Thou carriest (Oh ill carrying) In thy wicked clutching pawes, Th' entrailes of an humble one, Tender and enamoured. Three Night-caps hast thou borne hence, And a paire of Garters too, That doe equall Marble pure, For their smoothnesse, white and blacke. Two thousand sighes thou bearest away, Which, were they but fire, they might Set on fire two thousand Troyes. (If two thousand Troyes there were.) Cruell Virenus, Aeneas fugitive, Barrabas take thee, never maist thou thrive.

Of thy Squire that Sancho hee, May his entrailes bee so tough, And so hard that Dulcine∣a may not dis-enchanted bee. For the Fault that thou hast made, Let poore shee the burden beare, For the just, for wrongers doe Sometimes in my Countrey pay, Let thy best Adventures all, Into mis adventures turne: All thy pleasure to a Dreame, Firmenesse to forgetfullnesse. Cruell Virenus, Aeneas fugitive, Barrabas take thee, never maist thou thrive

Maist thou false accounted bee, From Sevill to Marchena, From Granada unto Loia, From* 10.1 London to England. Whenso'ere thou plai'st at Trumpe, At Primera, or at Saint, Never mai'st thou see a King, Aces, sevens fly from thee. If thou chance to cut thy Cornes, Maist thou wound till blood doe come•• Also let the stumps remaine, If thou plucke out hollow Teeth. Cruell Virenus, Aeneas fugitive, Barrabas take thee, never maist thou thrive.

Whilest the grieved Altisidora thus lamented, Don-Quixote beheld her, and with∣out answering a word, turning to Sancho, he said; By thy fore-fathers lives, I conjure thee, my Sancho, that thou tell me one truth: tell me happily, hast thou the three night-Caps and the Garters that this enamoured Damzel speaks of? To which (quoth San∣cho) the three Caps I have; but for your Garters as sure as the sea burns.

The Duches••e wondred at Al••isidora's loosnesse: for though she held her to be bold, witty and wanton; yet she never thought she would have proceeded so far: and know∣ing nothing of this jest, her admiration was the greater.

The Duke meant to second the sport; and therefore said, I doe not like it well, Sir Knight, that having received this good entertainment that hath been made you in my Castle, you should presume to carry away three night-Caps at least; if it were but only my Damzels Garters, 'tis a signe of a false heart, not sutable to your Honour; and therefore restore her Garters: if not, I challenge you to a mortall combat; and Ile not fear that your Elvish Enchanters will truck or change my face as they have done my Lackie Tosilos, that was to have fought with you.

God forbid (quoth Don-Quixote) that I should unsheath my sword against your most illustrious Person, from whom I have received so many favours. The night-Caps I will restore; for Sancho sayes he hath them: the Garters 'tis impossible; for neither her nor I received them: and if this your Damzel will look into her corners, I warrant her she findes them. I, my Lord, was never Thief, nor never think I shall as long as I live, if God forsake me not. This Damzell speaks (as shee pleaseth) as being enamoured on what I am not faulty of: and therefore I have no reason to ask forgivenesse, neither of her nor your Excellency, whom I beseech to have a better opinion of me: and again, I desire your Licence to be upon my way.

God send you, Signior Don-Quixote (quoth the Duchesse) so good a journey, that wee may alwaies hear happy news of your brave exploits, and so God be with you•• for the longer you stay, the more you increase the flames in the Damzels hearts that behold you: and for mine, Ile punish her so, that hence forward shee shall neither mis-behave her self in look or action. Hear me then but a word, oh valorous Don-Quixote (quoth Altisidora) which is, That I cry thee mercy for the theft of my Garters; for in my soul and conscience I have them on; and I have faln into the same carelessnesse of his that looked for his Asle when hee rode upon him.

Did not I not tell you (quoth Sancho) I am a fit Youth to conceal Thefts? for had I been so, I had in two bouts fit occasions in my Government.

Don-Quixote inclined his head, and made an obeysance to the Dukes and by-standers, and turning Rozinantes reins, Sancho following him on Dapple, hee went out of the Castle, taking his way towards Saragosa.

CHAP. LVIII.

Of Adventures that came so thick and three-fold on Don-Quixote, that they gave no respit one to the other.

WHen Don-Quixote saw himself in open Field, free and uncumbred from Altisidora's wooing, hee thought himself in his Center, and that his spirits were renewed to prosecute his new project of Chi∣valrie; and turning to Sancho, said:

Liberty, Sancho, is one of the preciousest Gifts that Heaven hath given men; the treasure that the earth encloseth and the Sea hides, cannot be equalized to it. Life ought to be hazarded as well for Li∣berty, as for a mans Honour; and by the contrary Captivity is the greatest evill that

can befall men. This I tell thee Sancho, because, thou hast well observed the cheer and plenty we have had in the Castle we left. Well, in the midest of those savoury Ban∣quets, and those drinks cooled with snow, me thought I was straightned with hunger; for I enjoyed nothing with the liberty I should have done, had it been mine own; for the obligations of recompencing benefits and favours received, are tyes that curb a free minde. Happy that man to whom Heaven hath given a piece of bread, without obliga∣tion to thank any else but Heaven alone.

For all that (quoth Sancho) 'tis not fit for us to be unthankfull for two hundred Crowns that wee have received in gold, which the Dukes Steward gave me in a purse, which I carry as comforting Cordial next my heart, for what may fall out; for wee shall not alwaies finde Castles where we shall be much made on; sometimes wee shall meet with Inns, where we shall be cudgelled.

In these and such like discourses went the Errants on, Knight and Squire, when they saw (having gone about half a league upon the grasse of a green Medow, some dozen men with their Cloaks spread at dinner, clad like Husbandmen; somewhat neer them they had, as it were, white sheets, with which they covered something underneath: they were set upright and stretch at length, and put a pretty distance one from another.

Don-Quixote came to those that were eating, and saluting them first courteously, hee asked them what was under that linnen? One of them answered him, Sir, under this linnen there bee certain Images of Embossed work in wood, which must serve in a shew wee make in our Village: wee carry them covered, that they may not bee ••ullied and on our shoulders that they bee not broken. If you please (quoth Don-Quixote) I should be glad to see them; for Images carried so charily doubtlesse are good ones. Good (quoth one?) if they bee not, let their price speak; for there is none of them but cost fifty Ducats; and that you may see 'tis true, pray stay, and you shall see it with your eyes: and rising hee left his dinner, and went to uncover the first Image, which shewed to bee Saint George on horse back, with a winding Serpent at his feet, and his Launce runne thorow the throat of it, with the fiercenesse he useth to be painted with: all the Images seemed to bee of pure gold. And Don-Quixote seeing it, said, This Knight was one of the best Errants that the divine War-fare had, his name was Saint George, and he was a wonderfull defender of Damzels. Let's see this next. The man disco∣vered it, and it seemed to see Saint Martin on Horse-back, that divided his cloak with the poor man; and Don-Quixote no sooner saw it, but he said, This Knight also was one of our Christian Advent••rers, and I beleeve he was more liberall then valiant, as thou mayest see Sancho by his dividing his cloak, and giving the poor man half; and doubtlesse it was then Winter; for had it been Summer, he would have given him all, he was so charitable.

Not so (quoth Sancho) but he stuck to the Proverb, To give and to have doth a brain crave.

Don-Quixote laughed, and desired them to take away another peece of linnen, under which was the Image of the Patron of Spain on Horse-back, his sword bloodied, tram∣pling on Moors, and treading on heads: and Don-Quixote seeing it, said, I marry Sir, here's a Knight indeed, one of Christs Squadrons, this is called Don-Saint Diego, Moor∣killer, one of the Valientest Saints and Knights in the world then, or in heaven now. Then they discovered another peece, which shewed Saint Paul his falling from his Horse, with all the circumstances usually painted in the Table of his Conversion: when hee saw him so lively, as if you would say, Christ were then speaking to him, and Paul an∣swering, hee said, This was the greatest enemie that the Church of God had in a long time, and the greatest Defender that ever it shall have, a Knight Errant in his life time, and a quiet Saint in his death, a restless Laboror in the Vineyard of the Lord, a Doctor of Nations, whose School was Heaven, and Christ himself his Reader and Instructer. Now there were no more Images: and so Don-Quixote commanded them to cover them again, and said to those that carried them, I hold it for a propitious signe Brethen, to have seen what I have seen; for those Saints and Knights were of my Profession, which is, to exercise Armes; onely the difference between them and me is, that they were

Saints, and fought Divinely; I am a sinner, and fight humanely. They conquer'd hea∣ven by force of their Armes (for heaven suffers force) and hitherto I know not what I conquer by the force of my sufferings: but if my Dulcinea del Toboso be once free from hers, my Fortune bettering it self, and my judgement repaired, perhaps I might take a better course then I doe.

God grant, and Sin be deaf, quoth Sancho straight.

The men wondred as well at Don-Quixotes shape, as at his discourse, and understood not one half what it meant. They ended their dinner and got up their Images, and taking leave of Don-Quixote, they went on their way. Sancho admired afresh, as if hee had never known his Master, at his knowledge, thinking there was no Historyin the world, or Accident, that hee had not ciphered upon his nayle, and nayled in his memory, and said, Truly (Master mine) if this that hath befaln us to day may be called an Ad∣venture, it hath been one of the most delicious sweetest, that in all our peregrination hath befaln us; for wee are come out of it without blows or affrightment, or laying hands to our swords, or without beating the earth with our bodies, or being hungry: God be thanked that hee hath let me see this with these eyes of mine.

Thou sayest well Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) but thou must know, the times are not alwaies alike, nor run on in one fashion, and that which the vulgar commonly call Bodings, which are not grounded upon any naturall reason, ought to bee held, and re∣puted, and judged by a wise man for good luck. One of your Wizards riseth in a mor∣ning, goes out of his house, meets with a Frier of the blessed Order of S. Francis, and as if hee had met with a Griffin, turns his back and runs home again. Tother Men∣doza hee spils the salt on the Table, and straight hath a melancholy sprinkled all over his heart, as if Nature were bound to shew signes of ensuing mischances, with things of so small moment as the aforesaid: The discreet Christians ought not to stand upon points, or to look into the doings of Heaven. Scipio comes into Africa, and leaping on shore, hee stumbles; his Souldiers hold it for an ill signe: but hee embracing the ground, said, Thou canst not flye from me Africa, for I have fast hold on thee in mine Armes. So that Sancho, the meeting with these Images hath been a most happie successe to mee.

I beleeve you (quoth Sancho) and pray tell me the cause why wee Spainiards cry Saint Iaques, and shut Spain? is Spain open troe, so that it needed bee shut? or what ceremonie is this?

Thou art most simple Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) and look; This Grand Knight with the red Crosse, God hath given him to Spain for a Patron and Protector, especially in the hard conflicts that the Moors and wee had together; and therefore they invoke and call on him as their Protector in all their battels they give, and many times they have visibly seen him in them, overthrowing, trampling, destroying and killing Agaren Squa∣drons. Many examples could I produce to confirm this, out of the true Spanish Histories.

Sancho changed his discourse, and said to his Master, Sir, I doe wonder at the loos∣nesse of Altisidora, the Duchesses, Damzell; that same fellow called Love, hath bravely wounded and runne her thorow; they say, hee is a little blinde boy, that though hee bee blear•• ey'd or to say truer, blinde: takes the least heart for his mark, and hits it, and pierceth it with his Flight from one side to the other. I have also heard say, that in the modesty and warinesse of Damzells, his amorous Arrows are headlesse and dull: but in this Altisidora, it seems they are rather whetted then dull. Look you Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote). Love hath no respect or limit in his dealing, and hath the same condition with Death, that as well sets upon the high Palaces of Kings, as the low Cottages of Sheepheards, and when he takes entire possession of a soul, the first thing hee does, is to banish shame, without which Altisidora declared her desires, that rather engendred in my brest confusion then pitty.

Notable cruelty (quoth Sancho) unheard of thanklesnesse•• I know for my part, that the least amorous reason of hers would have humbled and made me her Vassall; ah whoreson, what a heart of marble, entrails of brasse, and soul of rough-cast had you? but I cannot imagine what this Damzel saw in you, that should so vanquish her? What

Gallantry? What Courage? What Conceit? What Countenance? which of these alone, or all together enamoured her? for truly, I behold you many times from head to foot, and I see more in you to affright then to enamour: and having also heard say; that Beauty is the first and principall part that doth enamour, you having none, I know not on what the poor soul was enamoured.

Marke Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) there bee two kinds of beauty, one of the mind, the other of the body; that of the mind doth march and is seen in the understan∣ding, in honesty, in good proceeding, in Liberalitie, in being well bred; and all these qualities are untamed, and may be in an ill-favored-man; and when the choyce is set upon this beauty, and not upon that of the body, it causeth Love with more force and advantage. I see Sancho that I am not lovely, and yet I know too that I am not defor∣med, and it is enough for an honest man, if he be not a Monster, to bee beloved, so I have the Portions of the mind I have told thee of.

In these Reasons and Discourses they went entring in at a Wood that was out of the way, and suddainly, before they were aware, Don-Quixote found himselfe entangled in nets of greene thread, that were set from one Tree to another; and not imagining what it might be, he said ••o Sancho, Mee thinks Sancho, this Adventure of these Netts is one of the strangest that may bee imagined; hang me if the Enchanters that persecute me, mean not to intangle me in them, and to stop my way, in revenge of the rigour I have used toward Altisidora. Well, let them know that these Nets, were they of hardest Diamonds as they are of green thred, or stronger then that the jealous God of the Black-Smiths entangled Venus and Mars with, I would break it as if it were Bull∣Rushes or Yarn: and striving to get forward, suddainly two most beautifull Sheep∣heardesses comming from out the Thicket, appeard before him, two at least attired like Sheepheardesses, only their loose Jackets and Coats were of fine cloth of Gold, I say, their Kirtles were of Tissue; their hairs hung loose over their shoulders, that for gol∣den, might compare with the Sunnebeams: they were crowned with two Garlands woven with green Bayes, and red-flower gentle: their ages seemed to bee not under fifteen, nor past eighteen.

This was a sight that astonisht Sancho, suspended Don-Quixote, made the Sunne stop in his Career to behold them, and held all the four in marvellous silence. In fine, the first that spake was one of the Sheepheardesses, that said to Don-Quixote, Hold Gentle∣men, and break not our Nets that are spred there, not to your hurt, but for our recre∣ation; and because I know you will ask us why they are so put, and who wee are I will tell you briefly.

In a Village some two leagues hence, where there are many Gentlemen of quality and rich; amongst many acquaintances and Kindred it was agreed, that the Wives, Sonnes and Daughters, Neighbours, Friends and Kinsfolk, should joyn to make merry in this place, which is one of the pleasantest here round about, forming as it were amongst us a new and pastorall Arcadia, clothing the Maids like Sheepheardesses, and the Young men like Sheepheards: two Eglogues wee have studied, one of the famous Poet Garsilasso, and the other of that most excellent Poet Camoes in his own Mother Portugall Tongue, which hitherto wee have not repeated. Yesterday was the first day wee came hither; wee have our Tents, called Field-Tents, pitche amongst these Trees, close by the brink of a goodly running Brook, which fructifies all these Medows: last night wee did spread our Nets on these Trees to catch the poor Birds that being allured with our call should fall into them. If you please Sir, to bee our Guest, you shall bee entertained liberally and courteously; for now into this place comes neither Sorrow not Melancholy. With this shee was silent and said no more.

To which Don-Quixote answered; Truly (fairest Lady) Act••on was not more astonisht when hee saw Diana bathing her self in the Fountain, then I have been in be∣holding your beauty: I commend the manner of your pastime, and thank you for your kinde offers, and if I may serve you, so I may bee sure you will bee obeyed, you may com∣mand me: for my Profession is this, To shew my self thankfull, and a Doer of good

to all sorts of people, especially of the rank that your person shews you to bee; and if those Nets, as they take up but a little peece of ground, should take up the whole World, I would seek out new worlds to passe thorow, rather then break them: and that you may give credit to this my exaggeration, behold, at least hee that promiseth you this, is Don-Quixote de la Mancha, if haply this name hath come to your hearing.

Ah sweet friend (quoth the other Sheepheardesse) what good luck is this? Seest thou this Gentleman before us? Well let me tell thee, hee is the valiantest, the most enamoured, and the most courteous in the world, if the History lye not and deceive us, which is in print, of his famous exploits, which I have read: I hold a wager this honest fellow here with him, is (what call yee him?) Sancho Panca his Squire, that hath no fellow for his mirth.

'Tis true (quoth Sancho) I am that merry fellow, and that Squire you speak of, and this Gentleman is my Master, the very self same Don-Quixote aforesaid and Hi∣storified.

Ah (quoth the other) let us intreat him friend, to stay with us, for our Friends and Kindred will bee infinitely glad of it, and I have heard tell as well as thou of his worth and wit; and above all, they say of him, that he is the ••irmest and loyallist Amourist that is known, and that his Mistris is one Dulcinea del Toboso, that bears the prize from all the Beauties in Spain.

With just reason she doth (quoth Don-Quixote) if so be your matchlesse beauties put it not in controvesie: Weary not your selves Ladies in deteining me; for the pre∣cise ties of my Profession will let me rest no where.

By this there came a Brother of one of the Sheepheardesses, where the four were as brave and gallant as they: they told him that hee which was with them, was the valo∣rous Don-Quixote de la Mancha, and the other Sancho his Squire, of whom he had no∣tice, as having read his History.

The gallant Sheepheard saluted him, desiring him to come with him to their Tents. Don-Quixote was forced to consent, which hee did. And now the Nets were drawn and filled with divers little Birds, who deceived with the colour of them, fell into the danger they shun'd: There met in that place above thirty persons, all gallantly clad like Sheepheards and Sheepheardesses; and instantly they were made to know who Don-Quixote was, and his Squire; at which they were not a little contented; for they had notice of him by his History: They came to the Tents, and found the Tables co∣vered, rich, aboundant, and neat: they honour'd Don-Quixote with the chief seat; all of them beheld him, and admir'd to see him.

Finally, the cloth being taken away, Don-Quixote very gravely lifted up his voyce, and said, Amongst the greatest sins there are committed (though some say Pride) yet I say Ingratitude is one, holding my self to the usuall saying, That Hell is full of the un∣gratefull. This sinne, as much as possible I could, I have sought to avoid ever since I had reason: and if I cannot repay one good turn with another, in stead of that, my desires are not wanting, and when they suffice not I publish them: for hee that ac∣knowledgeth and publisheth good turns received, would also recompence them with others, if he could; for, the most part, they that receive, are inferior to those that give, and so God is above all; because hee is giver above all, and the gifts of men can∣not bee equall to Gods for the infinite difference betwixt them: and this straightnesse and barenesse doth in some measure supply a thankfullnesse: I therefore being thank∣full for the kindenesse I have here received, and not able to correspond in the same proportion, containing my self in the narrow limits of my abilitie, offer what I may and what I have from my Harvest: and therefore I say, that I will for two long dayes, maintain in the midst of the Kings high-way toward Saragosa, that these Ladies, counterfeit Sheepheardesses here present, are the fairest and most courteous Dam∣zels in the world, excepting only the peerlesse Dulcinea del Toboso, sole Mi∣stris of my thoughts, with peace bee it spoken to as many, both hees and shees, as heare mee.

Which when Sancho heard, that had attentively listned, crying out, hee said, Is it

possible there can bee any body in the world, that dares say or sweare that this Master of mine is mad? Pray speake: You Gentlemen Shepheards, is there any Countrey Vicar, bee hee never so wise, or never so good a Scholler, that can say what my Master hath said? or is there any Knight Errant, let him bee never so much fam'd for his va∣lour, that can offer what my Master hath here offered?

Don-Quixote turned to Sancho and all enflamed and cholericke, said, Is it possible, O Sancho, that there is any body in the world that will say, Thou are not a Coxcomb, lined with the same, and hemmed with I know not what malice or knavery? Who bids thee meddle with my matters, in sifting out, whether I bee wise or a jolt-head? Peace and not a word, but saddle Rozinante, if hee bee unsaddled, and let's put my of∣fer in execution: for with the justice that I have on my side, thou maist presume, as many as I meet withall are vanquisht: and so with great fury, and in a terrible huffe hee rose from his Chayre, leaving all the by-standers in admiration, and in doubt whe∣ther they should hold him mad, or wise. Finally, they perswaded him, hee should not thrust himselfe into such an engagement: for they acknowledged his thankfull good will, and that there needed no new demonstrations to know his valourous minde: for his exploits mentioned in his History were sufficient.

For all that, Don-Quixote proceeded in his purpose, and mounted on Rozinante, buckling his shield to him, and taking his Launce, hee got to the High-way, not farr from the greene Meddow. Sancho followed him upon Dapple, with all the Pasto∣rall flocke, desirous to see what might be the issue of that arrogant, and never seen offer.

Don-Quixote being (as I have said) upon the way, hee wounded the ayre with these words: Oh you Passengers, and way-faring Knights, Squires on foot, or on horse∣back, that either now passe this way, or are to passe in these two ensuing dayes, know, that Don-Quixote de la Mancha, Knight Errant, is here ready to maintaine, that set∣ting the beauty of the Mistris of my soule aside, Dulcinea del Toboso, the Nymphs that inhabit these Meddowes and Groves, are the fairest that may bee: and hee that is of a contrary opinion, let him come; for here I expect him.

Twice hee repeated these selfe-same words, and twice they were not heard by any Adventurer: but his good lucke that directed his affaires better and better, so ordai∣ned, that a pretty while after, they might see a troope of horse-men upon the way, and many of them with Launces in their hands, all of them going in a heape together, and apace: they that were with Don-Quixote as soone as ever they saw them, turn'd their backs, and got farre enough out of the way: for they knew if they stayed, they might bee in some danger, onely Don-Quixote with an undaunted heart stood still; and Sancho Panca warded himselfe with Rozinante's buttocks.

The troope of the Launces came on, and one that was formost cryed out aloud to Don-Quixote, saying, out of the way, madman: for these Buls will beat thee to pieces.

Goe to, yee skoundrels, quoth Don-Quixote, your Buls shall not prevaile with mee, though they were the fiercest that Xarama hath feeding on his Bankes: Confesse, yo•• Elves, all in one, that what I have proclaimed here, is a truth, or else come and com∣bate with mee.

The Heards-man had no leisure to answere, nor Don-Quixote to get out of the way, though hee would: and so the troope of wilde Buls, together with the tame Kine, and the multitude of Heards-men, and others, that carried them to be kept up in a town, where they were the next day to bee baited, trampled over Don-Quixote, Sancho, Rozi∣nante and Dapple, tumbling them all down upon the ground.

Sancho was bruised, Don-Quixote astonisht, Dapple banged, and Rozinante not very Catholike: but in fine all of them gate up, and Don-Quixote in all haste, some∣times stumbling, other whiles falling, began to runne after the whole Heard, crying a∣loud, Hold, Stay, yee Elvish crue; for one onely Knight expects you, who is not of that minde or opinion of those that say, to a flying enemy a Silver bridge. But the hasty runners stayed never a whit the more for this; nor made any reckoning of his threats more then of last yeers clouds.

Don-Quixote being weary stayed him. So, fuller of anger then revenge, hee sate in the way, expecting when Sancho, Rozinante, and Dapple should arrive. At length they came, and Master and man gat up; and without leave taking of the fained or coun∣terfeit Arcadia, with more shame then delight, they went onward their way.

CHAP. LIX.

Of an extraordinary accident that befell Don-Quixote, which may bee held for an Adventure.

THe dust and wearinesse that Don-Quixote and Sancho received from the unmannerly Buls, was recompenced with a cleer and running Fountaine, which they found in a coole Grove, on whose Margen leaving Rozinante and Dapple lose without a Briddle or Halter, the two way-beaten, Master and Man sate down. Sancho repaired to the Cup-boord of his Wallets, and tooke out of them that which hee called his sawce, and rensed his mouth: Don-Quixote washt his face, with which refreshing his faint spirits, recovered breath.

Don-Quixote ate nothing for pure griefe, neither durst Sancho touch any meate before him for pure mannerlinesse, and expected his Master should first bee his Taster: but seeing him carried on with his imaginations, not remembring to put a bit in his mouth, he never asked him: and over-running all kinde of manners, he began to barrell up all the Bread and Cheese that was before him in his stomack.

Eate, friend Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, hold life together; for thou hast more need then I, and leave mee to dye by the hands of my sorrowes, and the force of my mis-fortunes. I was borne, Sancho to live dying, and thou, to dye eating: and that thou maist see I tell thee true; consider mee printed in Histories, famous in Armes, well nurtured in mine. Actions, respected by Princes, courted by Damzells: now at the end of all, when I hoped for Bayes, Triumphs and Crownes layd up and merited by my famous exploits: this morning I have seene my selfe trampled on and kick∣ed, and bruised with the feet of base un-cleane Beasts: the consideration of this duls my teeth, makes slow my grinders, and benummes my hands, and altogether be••eaves mee of my appetite; so that I thinke I shall dye with hunger, the cruellest of all deaths.

So that, quoth Sancho (not leaving his fast chewing) you will not allow of that Proverbe that sayes, Let Martha dye, so she dye not empty: at least, I will not because of my death. I meane rather to doe as the Shoo-maker doth, that streacheth the Lea∣ther with his teeth, till hee makes it reach as hee list; Ile draw out my life by eating, till it come to the end that Heaven hath allotted it: and know Sir, there is no greater madnesse in the world, then to despaire as you doe: and beleeve mee, and after you have eaten, rest your selfe a little upon the Downe-beds of this green Grasse, and you shall see, that when you wake, you shall finde your selfe somewhat lightned.

Don-Quixote tooke his councell, taking his reasons to bee rather Philosophicall, then senselesse, and said, If thou, O Sancho, wouldest doe, what I shall now tell thee for mee, my lightsomnesse would bee certaine, and my sorrowes not so great; which is that whil'st I (obeying thy counsell) sleepe, thou goe out of the way a little, and with Rozinantes reines, turning thy flesh to the ayre, give thy selfe three or foure hun∣dred lashes upon account of the three thousand, and so many that thou art to give for the dis-enchanting Dulcinea, which is no small pitty, that that poor Lady should bee enchanted by thy carelesnesse and negligence.

There is much to bee said in this businesse (quoth Sancho) let's both sleepe now, and

God will provide afterward: Know, Sir, that this whipping in cold blood is a cru∣ell thing, especially, if it light upon a weake body and worse fed; let my Lady Dulcinea have patience, for when shee least thinkes of it, shee shall see mee a very sieve with lashes, and till death all is life, I meane, I live with a desire to fulfill my promise.

Don-Quixote giving him thankes, eate somthing, and Sancho a great deale, leaving the two continuall friends and companions, Rozinante and Dapple to their Liberum Arbitrium, disorderly feeding upon the Pasture that was plentifull in that Meddow.

They awaked somewhat late, and up they got againe, and went on their way, mak∣ing haste to come to an Inne, which seemed to bee about a league off: I say an Inn, for Don-Quixote called it so; contrary to his ordinarie custome of calling all Innes Ca∣stles. Well, to it they come, they asked mine Host if there were any Lodging? Hee answered, Yes, with all the commodiousnesse and provision that they might have in the Towne of Saragosa.

They alighted, and Sancho retyred with his Sumptry into a Chamber, of which the Host gave him the Key: the Beasts hee carried to the Stable, and gave them their stint, and so went to see what Don-Quixote (who sate by upon a Bench) would command him, giving God particular thankes, that that Inne had not appeared to him, a Castle,

Supper time came on: So to their resting place they got.

Sancho asked mine Host what hee had for supper? To which quoth hee, Your mouth shall have measure, aske what you will? [a good character of a lying, beggerly, vain-glorious Spanish-Host in generall.] For from the Byrds of the ayre, to the Poul∣try of the earth, and the fishes of the sea, that Inne was provided.

Not so much quoth Sancho, for so wee may have a couple of roasted Chickens, 'twill bee enough: For my Master is weake somack'd, and eates little, and I am no very greedy-gut.

Mine Host answered him, hee had no Chickens, for the Kytes had devoured them, Why then let's have a tender Pullet roasted, quoth hee, A Pullet! My Father as soon; trust mee, trust me; I sent above fifty yesterday to the City to sell: saving Pullets, ask what you will.

Why then (quoth Sancho) you wa••t no Veale, or Kidde? Wee have none in the House now, said mine Host, for it is all spent; but by next weeke wee shall have to spare.

The matter is mended (quoth Sancho) I hold a wager all these wants are supplied with Egs and Bacon.

Assuredly (quoth mine Hoast) here's fine doings with my guest; I have told him we have neyther Pullet nor Hens, and yet he would have Egs. Run, if you will, to other dainties, and leave these gluttonies.

Resolve us (Body of mee, quoth Sancho) and tell mee what wee shall have, and leave you your running mine Host. The Host said, The very truth is, I have two Neates-feete, like Calves-feet; or two Calves-feet, like Neates-feet, they are sod with their Pease, Bacon and Onyons, and just at this instant cry Come eat me, Come eat me.

For mine I mark them hence forward, quoth Sancho, and let no man touch them; for Ile pay more for them then any body else, and there could have beene no better meat for mee in the world.

No man shall touch them (said mine Host:) for other Guests, I have out of pure Gentilitie, bring their Cook, Cater, and Butler with them. If it goe by Gentle (quoth Sancho) none more gentle then my Master: but his Calling permits no Landers or Butteries: wee clap us down in the midest of a field, and fill our selves with Acorns and Medlars.

This discourse passed between Sancho and the Host, without Sancho's answering him, who asked what Calling his Master was of. Supper was ready, Don-Quixote went to his Chamber; mine Host brought the pot of meat just as it was, and sate him fair and well down to supper: it seemed that in another Chamber next Don-Quixotes, divided only

by a thin Lath wall, hee might heare one say, By your life Signior Don Ieronimo, whilest supper is to come in let us read another Chapter in the second part of Don-Quixote.

Don-Quixote scarce heard himself named, when up hee stood, and watchfully gave care to their discourse concerning him; and hee heard that the aforesaid Don Ieronimo answered, Signior Don Iohn, why should wee read these fopperies? hee that hath read the first part of Don-Quixote, it is impossible hee should take any pleasure in reading the second.

For all that (quoth Don Iohn) 'twere good reading it: for there is no book so ill, that hath not some good thing in it.

That which most displeaseth me in this is, thet hee makes Don-Quixote disenamoured of Dulcinea del Toboso.

Which when Don-Quixote heard, full of wrath and despight hee lifted up his voyce saying, Whosoever saith Don Quixote de la Mancha hath forgotten, or can forget Dulci∣nea del Toboso, I will make him know with equall Armes, that he is farre from the truth: for the peerlesse Dulcinea del Toboso cannot bee forgotten; neither can forgetfullnesse bee contained in Don-Quixote: his Scutchion is Loyalty; his Profession sweetly to keep it, without doing it any violence.

Who is that answers us, said they in the next room? Who should it bee (quoth Sancho) but Don-Quixote himself, that will make good all hee hath said, or as much as hee shall say; for a good Pay-master cares not for his pawnes.

Scarce had Sancho said this, when the two Gentlemen came in at the Chamber door; for they seemed no lesse to them: and one of them casting his Armes about Don-Qui∣xotes neck, said, neither can your presence belye your name, or your name credit your presence. Doubtlesse you Sir, are the right Don-Quixote de la Mancha, North-starre, and Morning-starre of Knight Errantry, in spight of him that hath usurped your name, and annihilated your exploits, as the Author of this Book, I here deliver hath done: and giving him the Book that his companion had, Don-Quixote took it, and without an∣swering a word, began, to turne the leaves, and a while after returned it, saying, In this little that I have seen, I have found three things in this Authour worthy of reprehensi∣on, [This the Authour of this Book brings in by way of invective against an Aragonian Scholer, that wrote a second part of Don Quixote before this was published.]

The first is, some words I have read in this Prologue.

The second, that his language is Arragonian: for sometimes hee writes without Articles. And the third, which doth most confirm his ignorance, is, That hee errs and strayes from the truth in the chiefest of the History: for here hee sayes that Sancho Panca my Squires Wifes name was Mary Gutierrez, which is not so; but shee is called Teresa Panca: and therefore hee that errs in so main a matter, it may well bee feared he will erre in all the rest of the History.

To this Sancho said, prettily done indeed of the Historian; hee knows very well sure what belongs to our Affaires, since he calls my Wife Teresa Panca, Mary Gutierrez. Pray take the Book again Sir, and see whether I be there, and whether he have chang'd my name. By your speech friend (quoth Don Ieronimo) you should be Sancho Panca Signior Don-Quixotes Squire. I am (quoth Sancho) and I am proud of it.

Well, in faith (said the Gentleman) this modern Authour doth not treat of you so neatly, as your person makes shew for: hee paints you out for a Glutton, and Ideot, and nothing witty, and farre different from the Sancho that is described in the first part of your Masters History.

God forgive him (said Sancho;) hee should have left me in my corner, and not re∣membred me; for every man in his ability, and 'tis good sleeping in a whole skin.

The two Gentlemen entreated Don-Quixote to goe to their chamber, and Sup with them; for they knew well that in that Inne hee found not things fitting to his person.

Don-Quixote, who was ever courteous, condescended to their requests, and supped with them: Sancho remained with his flesh-pot sole Lord and Governour. Sancho sate

at the upper end of the Table, and with him the Inn-keeper, that was no lesse affectioned to his Neats-feet, then Sancho.

In the midst of supper Don Iohn asked Don Quixote what news hee had of his Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, whether shee were married, or brought a Bed, or great with child; or being entire, whether (respecting her honesty and good decorum) she were mindefull of Signior Don Quixotes amorous desires? To which he answered; Dulcinea is as en∣tire, and my desires as firm as ever; our correspondency in the ancient barrennsse; her beauty transformed into the complexion of a base Milk-wench: and straight hee re∣counted unto them every tittle of her Enchantment, and what had befaln him in Mon∣tesinos Cave, with the order that the sage Merlin had given for her dis-enchanting, which was by Sancho's stripes.

Great was the delight the two Gentlemen received to heare Don Quixote tell the strange passages of his History, and so they wondered at his fopperies, as also his elegant manner of delivering them; here they held him to be wise, there he slipped from them by the fool: so they know not what medium to give him, betwixtn wisedome and folly.

Sancho ended his Supper, and leaving the Inn-keeper, passed to the Chamber where his Master was; and entring, said, Hang me Sirs, if the Authour of this Book that your Worships have, would that wee should eat a good meale together; pray God, as hee calls me Glutton, hee say not that I am a Drunkard too.

Yes marry doth hee (said Don Ieronimo;) but I know not how directly, though I know his reasons doe not hang together, and are very erroneous, as I see by Sancho's Phisiognomy here present. Believe me (quoth Sancho) Sancho and Don-Quixote are differing in this History, from what they are in that Cid Hamete Benengeli composed; for wee are, my Master valiant, discreet and amorous: I simple and conceited; but neither Glutton nor Drunkard.

I believe it (said Don Iohn) and were it possible, it should bee commanded, that none should dare to treat of the Grand Don Quixotes Affairs, but Cid Hamete, his first Authour: as Alexander commanded that none but Apelles should dare to draw him.

Let whose will draw me (quoth Don-Quixote:) but let him not abuse me; for of•• times patience falls when injuries over-load. None (quoth Don Iohn) can be done Signior Don-Quixote, that hee will not bee revenged of, if he ward it not with the Shield of his patience, which in my opinion is strong and great.

In these and other discourses they passed a great part of the night, and though Don Iohn would that Don-Quixote, should have read more in the Book, to see what it did descant on, yet hee could not prevaile with him, saying, Hee made account he had read it, and concluded it to bee but an idle Pamphlet, and that hee would not (if it should come to the Authours knowledge that hee had medled with it) hee should make him∣self merry to think he had read it; for our thoughts must not be busied in filthy and obscene things, much lesse our eyes.

They asked him whither hee purposed his voyage? Hee answered to Saragosa, to be at the Justs in Harnesse, that use to be there yeerly.

Don Iohn told him, that there was one thing in that new History, which was, That hee should bee at a Running at the Ring in that City, as short of Invention, as poor in Mottos, but most poor in Liveries, and rich in nothing but Simplicities.

For this matter only (quoth Don-Quixote) I will not set foot in Saragosa: and therefore the world shall see what a lyar this moderne Historiographer is, and people shall perceive I am not the Don-Quixote hee speaks of.

You shall doe very well (quoth Don Iereimno) for there bee other Justs in Barse∣lona, where Signior Don-Quixote may shew his valour. So I mean to doe (quoth Don Quixote) and therefore let me take leave of you (for it is time) to goe to bed, and so hold me in the rank of your greatest friends and Servitors. And me too (quoth Sancho) for it may bee I shall bee good for somewhat.

With this they took leave, and Don Quixote and Sancho retired to their Chamber,

leaving Don Iohn and Don Ieronimo in admiration, to see what a medly hee had made with his discretion and madnesse; and they verily believed that these were the right Don-Quixote and Sancho, and not they whom the Aragonian Authour described.

Don-Quixote ro••e early, and knocking upon the thin wall of the other Chamber, hee took leave of those Guests. Sancho payed the Host royally; but advised him, hee should either lesse praise the Provision of his Inne, or have it better pro∣vided.

CHAP. LX.

What hapned to Don-Quixote going to Barselona.

THe morning was cool, and the day promised no lesse, when Don-Quixote left the Inn, informing himself first, which was the ready way to Barselona, without comming to Saragosa; such was the desire hee had to prove the new Historian a lyar, who (they said) dispraised him so much. It fell out so, that in six dayes there fell out nothing worth writing to him; at the end of which hee was be-nighted, going out of his way, in a thicket of Oakes or Cork-Trees; for in this Cid Hamete is not so punctuall, as in other matters hee useth to bee.

The Masters and man alighted from their Beasts, and setting themselves at the Trees roots, Sancho that had had his beaver that day entred roundly the gates of sleep: but Don-Quixote, whom imaginations kept awake much more then hunger, could not joyn his eyes, but rather was busying his thoughts in a thousand severall places: Sometimes hee thought hee found himself in Montesinos Cave: aud that hee saw Dulcinea con∣verted into a country Wench, leap upon her Asse-Colt: now the sage Merlin's words rang in his eares, repeating unto him the conditions that were to bee observed for her dis-enchanting: hee was stark mad to see Sancho's Lazinesse, and want of Charity; for, as hee thought, hee had only given himself five stripes, a poor and unequall number to those behinde; and hee was so griev'd and enraged with this, that he framed this discourse to himself:

If Alexander the Greate did cut the Gordian knot, saying, Cutting and undoing is all one, and yet for all that, was Lord of all Asia; no other wise may it happen in the dis-enchanting: of Dulcinea if I should whip Sancho, volens nolens; for if the con∣dition of this remedy be, that Sancho receive three thousand and so many jerks, what care I whether hee give them, or that another doe, since the substance is in him that gives them, come they by what means they will?

With this imagination he came to Sancho, having first taken Rozinante's Reines, and so fitted them, that he might lash him with them, he began to untrusse his points: The opinion is, tha•• hee had but one before, which held up his Gally-Gascoynes. But hee was no sooner approached, when Sancho awaked, and came to himself, and said, Who is that? Who is it toucheth and untrusseth me? 'Tis I (quoth Don-Quixote) that come to supply thy defects, and to remedy my troubles; I come to whip thee Sancho, and to discharge the Debt in part thou standest oblieged in, Dulcinea perisheth; thou livest carelesly; I dye desiring: and therefore untrusse thy self willingly; for I have a minde, in these Desarts, to give thee at least two thousand lashes.

Not so (quoth Sancho) pray be quiet; and if not, I protest deaf men shall hear us; the stripes in which I engaged my self must bee voluntary, and not enforc'd, and at this time I have no minde to whip my self; 'tis enough that I give you my word to beat my self; and fly-flap me when I have a disposition to it.

There's no leaving of it to thy coutesie, Sancho, (quoth Don-Quixote) for thou art hard hearted, and though a Clowne, yet tender of flesh; and so hee contended and strove to unlace him: which when Sancho Panca saw, hee stood to it, and setting upon his Master, closed with him, and tripping up his heeles, cast him upon his back on the ground, hee put his right knee upon his brest, and with his hands held his, so that hee neyther let him stirr nor breathe.

Don-Quixote cryed out, How now, Traitor, rebellest thou against thy naturall Lord and Master? Presumest thou against him that feedes thee? I neyther make King, nor depose King (quoth Sancho) I onely helpe my selfe that am mine owne Lord: pro∣mise mee you, Sir, that you will be quiet, and not meddle with whipping of mee now, and Ile set you loose and free; and If not, here thou diest, Traitor, enemy to Donna Sancha. Don-Quixote promised him, and swore by the life of his thoughts, hee would not touch so much as a hayre of his head, and that hee would leave his whipping him∣selfe, to his owne free-will and choice when hee would.

Sancho gate up, and went a pretty way from him, and going to leane to another tree, hee perceived something touch him upon the head, and lifting up his hands, hee lighted on two feet of a man, with Hose and Shooes on; hee quak'd for feare, and went to another tree, and the like befell him; so he cried out, calling to Don-Quixote to help him; Don-Quixote did so, and asking him what had befaln him? and why he was afraid? Sancho answered, That all those trees were full of mens feet and legges. Don-Quixote felt them, and fell strait into the account of what they might be, and said to Sancho, Thou needest not feare; for these fect and legges thou feelest and feest not, doubtlesse are of some free-booters and robbers in troopes, that are hanged in these trees; for ••here the Justice hangs them by twenty and thirty at a clap, by which I understand that I am neere Barcelona: and true it was as hee supposed. They lifted up their eyes, and to see to, the free-booters bodies hung as if they had beene clusters upon those trees: and by this it waxed day; and if the dead men feared them, no lesse were they in tribulation with the sight of at least forty live Shanditi, who hemmed them in upon a sodain, bid∣ding them in the Catalan tongue, they should bee quiet, and stand till their captaine came.

Don-Quixote was on foot, his horse unbridled, his Launce set up against a tree, finally, void of all defence, and therefore hee deemed it best to crosse his hands, and hold down his head, reserving himself for a better occasion and conjuncture.

The Theeves came to flea Dapple, and began to leave him nothing hee had, either in his Wallets or Cloke-bage; and it fell out well for Sancho, for the Dukes Crownes were in a hollow girdle girt to him, and those likewise that hee brought from home with him, and for all that, those good fellowes would have weeded and searched him to the very entrailes, if their Captaine had not come in the Interim, who seemed to bee about thirty yeeres of age, strongly made, and somewhat of a tall stature; his looke was solemne, and his complexion swarthy: hee was mounted upon a powerfull Horse, with his Steele coat on, and foure Petronels (called in that Country Pedrenales) which hee wore two at each side: and now his squires (for so they call those that are in that vocation) came to make spoyle of Sancho: hee commanded them they should not, and hee was strait obeyed, and so the Girdle escaped hee wondred to see a Launce reared up on a tree, a Shield on the ground, and Don-Quixote armed and pensative, with the saddest Melancholiest visage, that sadnesse it selfe could frame. Hee came to him, saying, Bee not sad, honest man; for you have not falne into the hands of any cruell Osiris, but into Roque Guinarts, that have more compassion then cruelty in them.

My sadnesse is not, quoth, Don-Quixote, to have falne into thy power, oh valorous Roque (whose Fame is boundlesse) but that my carelesnesse was such, that they souldiers have caught mee without bridle, I being obliged (according to the order of Knight Errantry, which I professe, to keepe watch and ward, and at all houses, to bee my owne Centinell; for let mee tell thee, Grand; Roque, if they had taken mee on Horse-backe with my Launce and Shield, they should not easily have made mee yeeld; for I am

Don-Quixote de la Mancha, hee, of whose exploits all the world is full. Straight Roque Guinarte perceived that Don-Quixote's infirmity proceeded rather of Madnesse then Valour, and though hee had sometimes heard tell of him, yet he never could be∣leeve his deeds to bee true, neither could hee bee perswaded that such a humour should raigne in any mans heart, and hee was wonderfully glad to have met with him, to see by experience what hee had heard say of him; and therefore hee said, Valorous Knight, vexe not your self, neither take this Fortune of yours to bee sinister; for it may be, that in these stumbling blocks your crooked Lot may bee straightned; for heaven doth usually raise up those that fall, and enrich the poor by strange and unseen waies (by men not imagined.)

Don-Quixote was about to have rendred him thanks, when as they perceived a noyse behinde them, as if there had been some troop of Horse, but there was but one only, upon which there came with full speed a Youth, to see to, about some twenty yeers of age, clad in green Damask; his Hose and loose Jerkin were laid on with gold lace, with a Hat turned up from his band, with close fit Boots, Sword and Dagger gilt, and a little Birding-Peece in his hand, and two Pistols at his sides. Roque turned his head to the noyse and saw this beautifull shape, who comming neer him, said, In quest of thee I came, oh valorous Roque, to finde in thee, if not redresse, at least some lightsomnesse in this my misfortune: And to hold thee no longer in suspence, because I know thou knowest me not, I will tell thee who I am, that is, Clandia seronima daughter to Simon Forte thy singular friend, and only enemy to Clanquell Torellas, who is also thine, as being one of thy contrary Faction; and thou knowest that this Torellas hath a Sonne called Don Vincente Torellas, or at least was so called not two hours since: He then, to shorten my unfortunate Tale, I will tell thee in few words what hath befallen me: He saw me, courted me, I gave eare to him, and my Father unwitting of it, I affectionated my self to him•• for there is no woman, bee shee never so retired or looked to, but shee hath time enough to put in execution and effect her hasty longing.

Finally, hee promised me marriage, and I gave him my word, to bee his, so no more passed really: Yesterday I came to know, that, forgetfull of his obligation, he contra∣cted to another, and that this morning hee went to bee married; a news that troubled my brain, and made an end of my patience: and by reason my Father was not at home I had oportunity to put my self in this apparell thou seest, and making speed with this horse, I overtook Don Vincente about a league from hence, and without making any complaint, or hearing his discharge, I discharged this Piece, and to boot, these Pistols, and I beleeve I sent two bullets into his body, making way, thorow which my honour, enwrapped in his blood, might sally out: therefore I left him to his servants, who not durst, nor could put themselves in his defence. I came to seek thee, that thou mightest help me to passe me into France, where I have kindred, with whom I may live; and withall, to desire thee to defend my Father, that the number of Don Vincentes Friends take no cruell revenge upon him.

Roque wondring at the Gallantry, Bravery, handsomnesse and Successe of the fai•• Claudia, said, Come Gentlewoman, and let us goe see if your enemy bee dead, and af∣terward what shall bee most fitting to be done.

Don Quixote, that hearkned attentively to all that Claudia said; (and Roque Guinart answered) said, No man need take pains to defend this Lady; let it bee my charge: Give me my Horse and my Armes, and expect me here, and I will goe seek this Knight, and alive or dead, will make him accomplish his promise to so great a Beauty.

No man doubt it (quoth Sancho) for my Master hath a very good hand to bee a marriage •• maker: and not long since, hee forced another to marry, that denied his promise to a Maid; and had it not been that Enchanters persecuted him, and chan∣ged the true shape into the shape of a Lackey, by this time the said Maid had beene none.

Roque, that attended more to Claudia's Successe then the reasons of Master or Man, understood them not; and so commanding his Squires, they should restore to Sancho

all they had taken from Dapple, and commanding them likewise to retire where hee lodged the night before, he went straight with all speed with Claudia, to find the woun∣ded or dead Don Vincente.

To the place they came, where Claudia met him, where they found nothing but late shed blood: But looking round about them, they discovered some People upon the side of a Hill; and they thought, as true it was, that that was Don Vincente, whom his servants carried alive, or dead; to cure, or give him buriall: They hasted to over∣take them, which they easilie might doe, the others going but softly. They found Don Vincente in his servants Armes, whom hee entreated with a weake and weary Voice to let him die there: For the griefe of his Wounds would not sus••er him to goe a∣ny further.

Claudia and Roque ••lung themselves from their Horse, to him they came, the ser∣vants feared Roques presence; and Claudia was troubled to see Don Vincente; and so betwixt mild and mercilesse, she came to him, and laying hold of his hands, she said; If thou hadst giv'n me these according to our agreement, thou hadst never come to this e∣xtremitie: The wounded Gentleman opned his half-shut eyes, and knowing Claudia said, I well perceive, fair and deceived Mistris, that thou art shee that hast slain me: a punishment not deserved, nor due to my desires, in which, nor in any action of mine, I never knew how to offend thee.

Then belike, 'tis false, that thou went'st this morning to bee married to Leonora the rich Baluasho's daughter.

No verily said Don Vincente, my ill fortune brought thee that news, that being jealous thou shouldest bereave me of my life; which since I leave it in thy hands, and embrace thee, I think my self most happy; and to assure thee that this is true, take my hand, and if thou wilt receive me for thy Husband, for I have no other satisfaction to give thee for the wrong thou thinkest I have done thee.

Claudia wrung his hand, and her self was wrung to the very heart; so that upon Don Vincent's blood and brest, shee fell into a swound, and hee into a mortall Paroxisme. Roque was in a maze and knew not what to doe. The servants went to fetch water to sting in their faces, and brought it, with which they bathed them.

Claudia revived again, but Don Vincente never from his Paroxisme, with which hee ended his life.

Which when Claudia saw, out of doubt, that her Husband was dead, shee burst the Ayre with her sighes, and wounded Heaven with her complaints: Shee tore her Hayre, and gave it to the Winde: With her owne hands shee dis-figured her face, with all the shewes of dolour and feeling that might bee imagined from a agrie∣ved Heart.

Oh cruell and inconsiderate Woman (said shee) how easily 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou moved to put so cruell a Designe in Execution? Oh raving force of Jealo•••• to what de∣sperate ends doest thou bring those that harbour thee in their 〈◊〉〈◊〉? Oh my Spouse! whose unhappy fortune; for being my Pledge, hath brought from Bed to Buriall.

Such and so bad were the complaints of Claudia, that even from Roques eyes drew teares, not used to shed them upon any occasion: the servants howled, and Claudia every stitch-while swouned, and the whole circuit lookt like a field of sorrow, and a place of misfortune.

Finally, Roque Guinart gave order to Don Vincentes Servants, to carry his body to his Fathers Town, that was neer there to give him buriall. Claudia told Roque shee would goe to a Monastery where an Aunt of hers was Abbesse, where shee meant to end her dayes, accompanied with a better and an eternall Spouse.

Roque commended her good intention, and offered to accompanie her whither shee would, and to defend her Father from her Kindred, and from all the world that would hurt him.

Claudia would by no means accept of his company, and thanking him the best shee could for his offer, shee took leave of him weeping. Don Vin••entes. Servants bore away 〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

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his body, and Roque returned to his people: and this was the end of Claudia Ieronima's love: but no marvell if jealousie contrived the plot of her lamentable Story.

Roque Guinarte found his Squires where hee had willed them to bee; and Don-Quix∣ote amongst them upon Rozinante, making a large discourse to them, in which hee per∣swaded them to leave that kinde of life, dangerous as well for their soules as bodies: but the most of them being Gascoignes, a wilde and unruly people, Don-Quixotes dis∣course prevailed nothing with them.

When Roque was come, hee asked Sancho, if they had restored his implements to him, and the Prize which his Souldiers had taken from Dapple. Sancho answered, Yes, onely that hee wanted three Night-caps, that were worth three Citties. What say you fellow? Quoth one of them: I have them, and they were not worth eighteene pence.

'Tis true (said Don-Quixote) but my Squire esteemes them in what hee hath said, for the parties sake that gave them mee,

Roque Guinart straight commanded they should bee restored, and commanding his people to stand round, hee willed them to set before them, all the apparell, Jewels, and money, and all that since their last sharing they had robbed: and casting up the ac∣dount briefely, returning that that was not to bee reparted; reducing it into money, hee divided it amongst all his company, so legally, and wisely, that hee neither added nor diminished, from an equall distributive justice

This done, and all contented, satisfied, and payd, Roque said to Don-Quixote, If I should not bee thus punctuall with these fellowes, there were no living with them: To which said Sancho, By what I have here seene, Justice is so good, that it is fit and necessary, even amongst theeves themselves.

One of the Squires heard him, and lifted up the snap-haunce of his Piece, with which hee had opened his Mazer, if Roque Guinart had not cryed out to bid him hold.

Sancho was amazed, and purposed, not to unsow his lips, as long as hee was in that company.

Now there came one or more of the Squires, that were put in Centinell, upon the wayes, to see who passed by, and to give notice to their Chiefe, what passed; who said, Sir, not far hence, by the way that goes to Barcolona, there comes a great Troope of people. To which quoth Roque, Hast thou markt whether they bee of those that seeke us, or those wee seeke? Of the latter, said the Squire.

Well, get you out all quoth Roque, and bring them me hither straight, and let not a man scapt. They did so, and Don-Quixote and Roque, and Sancho stay'd and ex∣pected to see what the Squires brought: and in the Interim, Roque, said to Don-Quixote, Our life will seeme to bee a strange kinde of one to Signior Don-Quixotes strange Ad∣ventures, strange successes, and dangerous all; and I should not wonder that it ap∣peare so. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 confesse truely to you, there is no kinde of life more unquiet nor morefull of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 then ours. I have flan into it by I know not what desires of revenge, that have power to trouble the most quiet hearts.

I am naturally compassionate, and well-minded: but as I have said, the desire of revenging a wrong done mee, doth so das•• this good inclination in mee, that I perse∣vere in this estate, maugre my best judgement: and as one horrour brings on another, and one sinne: so my revenges have beene so linked together, that I not onely un∣dergoe mine owne, but also other mens: but God is pleased, that though I see my selfe in the midst of this Labyrinth of Confusions, I despayre not to come to a safe harbour.

Don-Quixote admired to heare from Roque such good and sound reasons: for hee thought, that amongst those of this profession of robbing, killing, and High-way-laying, there could bee none so well spoken, and answered him:

Signior Roque, the beginning of health consists, in knowing the infirmity and that the sick man bee willing to take the Medicines that the Physician ordaines. You are sick: you know your griefe, and heaven, or (to say truer) God who is our Physician, will apply Medicines that may cure you, which doe heal by degrees, but not suddenly,

and by miracle: Besides, sinners that have knowledge, are neerer amendment then those that are without it: and since you, by your discourse, have shew'd your discretion, there is no more to bee done, but bee of good courage, and despair not of the recover∣ing, your sick conscience; and if you will save a labour, and facilitate the way of your sal∣vation; come with me and I will teach you to bee a Knight Errant, and how you shall undergoe so many labours and mis-adventures, that taking them by way of penance, you shall climbe Heaven in an instant.

Roque laughed at Don-Quixotes counsail, to whom (changing their discourse) hee recounted the Tragicall successe of Claudia Ieronimo; at which Sancho wept excee∣dingly; for the Beauty, Spirit and Buck-somenesse of the Wench, misliked him not.

By this the Squires returned with their Prize, bringing with them, two Gentlemen on horse-back, and two Pilgrims on foot, and a Coach full of Women, and some half a dozen of Servants, that, on horse-back and on foot, waited on them, with two Mule∣men that belonged to the two Gentlemen. The Squires brought them in triumph, the Conquerors and Conquered being all silent, and expecting what the Grand Roque should determine: who asked the Gentlemen, who they were? whither they would? and what money they carried? One of them answered him, Sir, We two are Captains of Spanish Foot, and have companies in Naples, and are going to imbarke our selves in four Gallies, that wee hear are bound for Silicia: we carry with us two or three hun∣dred Crowns, which wee think is sufficient, as being the largest treasure incident to the ordinary penury of Souldiers.

Roque asked the Pilgrims the same questions; who answered him likewise, That they were to be imbarqued towards Rome; and that they carried a matter of thirty shillings between them both. The same he likewise desired to know of those that went in the Coach, and one of them on Horse-back answered;

My Lady Donna Guiomar de Quinnones, Wife to a Judge of Naples, with a little Gyrle and her Maids, are they that goe in the Coach; and some six servants of us wait on her: and wee carry six hundred Pistolets in gold. So that (said Roque Guinarte) wee have here in all nine hundreth Crowns, and sixty Ryals; my Souldiers are about a sixtie; let us see what comes to each mans share; for I am a bad Arithmetician.

When the Theeves heard this, they cryed alowd, Long live Roque Guinarte, in spight of the Cullions that seek to deltory him.

The Captains were afflicted, the Lady was sorrowfull, and the Pilgrims never a whit glad, to see their goods thus confiscated. Roque a while held them in this suspence: but hee would no longer detein them in this sadnesse, which hee might see a gun-shoot off in their faces: and turning to the Captains, said, Captains, you shall doe me the kind∣nesse as to lend me threescore Ducats; and you Madam, fourscore, to content my Squa∣dron that follows me; for herein consists my Revenue: and so you may passe on freely, only with a safe conduct that I shall give you; that if you meet with any other Squadrons of mine, which are divided upon these Downs, they doe you no hurt: for my intent is not to wrong Souldiers, or any woman, especially Noble.

The Captains infinitely extolled Roques courteous liberality, for leaving them their money. The Lady would have cast her self out of the Coach to kisse the Grand Roques feet and hands: but hee would by no means yeeld to it; rather asked pardon that hee had presumed so farre, which was only to comply with the obligation of his ill em∣ployment.

The Lady commanded a Servant of hers, to give him straight fourscore Ducats, which were allotted him: the Captains too disbursed their sixty; and the Pilgrims tendered their Povertie: but Roque bade them bee still: and turning to his people, said, Out of these Crowns, there are to each man two due; and there remain twenty: let the poor Pilgrims have ten of them, and the other ten, this honest Squire, that hee may speak well of this Adventure: and so bringing him necessaries to write, of which he ever went provided, hee gave them a safe conduct to the heads of his Squadrons; and taking leave

of them, let them passe free: and wondring at the noblenesse of his brave and strange condition, holding him rather for a great Alexander, then an open Robber: One of the Theeves said in his Catalan language, This Captain of ours were fitter to bee a Frier then a Robber: and if hee mean henceforward to bee so liberall, let it bee with his own goods, and not with ours.

This the Wretch spoke not so softly, but Roque might over hear him; who catching his Sword in hand, almost clove his pate in two, saying, This is the punishment I use to sawcy Knaves: All the rest were amazed, and durst not reply a word; such was the awe in which they stood of him. Roque then retired aside, and wrote a Letter to a friend of his to Barselona, advising him how the famous Don-Quixote de la Mancha was with him, that Knight Errant so notorious: and hee gave him to understand, that hee was the most conceited understanding fellow in the world: and that about some four dayes after, which was Mid-summer day, hee should have him upon the City Wharf, Armed at all points, upon his Horse Rozinante, and his Squire likewise upon his Asse: And that hee should let the Niarros his friends know so much, that they might solace themselves with him: But hee could wish the Cadels his Adversaries might want the pastime that the madnesse of Don-Quixote, and his conceited Squire would make. Hee delivered the Letter to one of his Squires; who changing his Theeves habit for a Country-mans, went to the Citie, and delivered it to whom it was directed.

CHAP. LXI.

What hapned to Don-Quixote at his entrance into Barselona, with other events more true, then witty.

THree daies and three nights was Don-Quixote with Roque, and had hee been so three hundred yeers, hee should not have wanted matter to make him see and admire his kinde of life: One while here they lye; another, there they dine: Sometimes they flye from I know not whom; other while, they wait for I know not whom.

They sleep standing, a broken sleep, changing from place to place: all waies setting of Spies, listening of Sentinels, blowing Musquet matches, though of such shot they had but few; most of them carrying Petronels. Roque himself slept apart from the rest, not letting them know where he lodged, because the many Proclamations which the Vice-Roy of Barselona had caused to be made to take him, made him unquiet and fearfull, and so hee durst trust no body, fearing his own people would either kill or deliver him to the Justice: a life indeed wretched and irksome: at length, by by-waies and cross-paths Roque & Don-Quixote got to the Wharf of Bar∣selona, where Roque gave Sancho the ten Crowns hee promised him; and so they parted with many complements on both parts.

Roque returned, and Don-Quixote stayed there, expecting the day just as he was on horse-back: and a while after, the face of the, white Aurora, began to peep thorow the Bay-windows of the East, cheering the Hearbs and Flowers, in stead of delighting the eare, and yet at the same instant a noise of Ho-boyes and Drums delighted their ears, and a noise of Morris-bels, with the Pat a pat of horse-men running, to see too, out of the City.

Aurora now gave the Sunne leave to rise out of the lowest part of the East, with his face as big as a Buckler.

Don-Quixote and Sancho spred their eyes round about, and they might see the Sea, which till that time they had never seen: it seemed unto them most large and spacious, more by farre then the Lake of R••ydera, which they saw in the Mancha: they beheld

the Gallies in the Wharf, who clapping down their Tilts, discovered themselves full of Flaggs and Streamers that waved in the winde, and kissed and swept the water: within the Clarines, Trumpets and Ho-boyes sounded that farre and neer filled the Ayre with sweet and warlike accents: they began to move and make shew of skirmish upon the gentle water, a world of Gallants answering them on land, which came out of the Citie upon goodly Horses, and brave in their Liveries.

The Souldiers of the Gallies discharged an infinite of shot, which were answered from the Walls and Forts of the Citie, and the great shot with fearfull noyse cut the Ayre, which were answered with the Gallies fore-Castle Canons: the Sea was cheer∣full, the Land jocund, the sky cleer, only somewhat dimmed with the smoak of the Ar∣tillery, it seemed to infuse and engender a sodain delight in all men. Sancho could not imagine how those Bulks that moved upon the Sea, could have so many feet. By this they a-shore in the rich Liveries began to run on with their Moorish out cries, even to the very place where Don-Quixote was wondring and amazed: and one of them, he who had the Letter from Roque, said to Don-Quixote thus, alowd; Welcome to our City is the Looking-glasse, the Lanthorne and North-starre of all Knight Errantry, where it is most in practice. Welcome, I say, is the Valorous Don Quixote de la Man∣cha: not the false, fictitious, or Apocryphall, that hath been demonstrated to us of late in false Histories; but the true, legall, and faithfull Hee, which Cid Hamete the flower of Historians describes unto us. Don-Quixote answered not a word, neither did the Gentlemen expect hee should; but turning in and out with the rest, they wheeled about Don-Quixote: who turning to Sancho, said, These men know us well; Ile lay a wager they have read our History, and that too of the Aragonians lately printed. The Gentlemen that spoke to Don-Quixote came back again, and said to him; Signior Don-Quixote, come with us, I beseech you; for we are all your Servants, and Roque Guinarte's dear Friends. To which Don-Quixote replyed: If edurtesies engender courtesies, then yours, Sir Knight, is daughter or neer kindred to Roques: carry me whither you will, for I am wholly yours, and at your service, if you please to command me. In the like Courtly strain, the Gentleman answered him: and so locking him in the midest of them, with sound of Drumms and Ho-boyes, they carried him towards the City, where at his entrance, as ill luck would have it, and the Boyes, that are the worst of all ill, two of them, bold Crack-ropes, came among the thrust, and one of them lifting up Dapples tail, and the other Rozinantes, they fastned each their handfull of Nettles. The poor Beasts felt the new spurs, and clapping their tails close, augmented their pains; so that after a thousand winces, they cast down their Masters.

Don-Quixote all abashed and disgraced, went to take this Plumage from his Coursets tail, and Sancho from Dapples. Those that guided Don-Quixote, would have punish∣ed the Boyes for their sawcinesse; but it was not possible, for they got themselves into the thickest of a thousand others that followed. Don-Quixote and Sancho returned to their seats, and with the same applause and Musick, they came to their Guides house, which was fair and large, indeed, as was fit for a Gentleman of means; where wee will leave him for the present, because Cid Hamete will have it so.

CHAP. LXII.

The Adventure of the Enchanted head, with other flim-flams that must be recounted.

DOn-Quixotes Hosts name was Don Antonio Morino, a rich Gentle∣man and a discreet, and one that loved to bee honestly and affably merry; who having Don-Quixote now at home, began to invent how, without prejudice to him, he might divulge his madnesse; for Jests ought not to bee too bitter, nor pastimes in detriment of a third person.

The first thing hee did then, was to cause Don-Quixote to bee un∣armed, and to make him appear in that straight Chamois apparel of his (as heretofore wee have painted and described him:) so hee brought him to a Bay-window which looked toward one of the chiefest streets in the City, to bee publikely seen by all com∣mers, and the Boyes that beheld him as if hee had been a Monkey. They in the Liveries began a-fresh to fetch Careers before him, as if for him only (and not to solemnize that Festivall-day) their Liveries had been put on: And Sancho was most jocund, as think∣ing he had found out, hee knew not how nor which way, a new Camacho's marriage, or another house like Don Diego and Miranda's, or the Dukes Castle.

That day some of Don Antonio's friends dined with him, all honouring Don-Qui∣xote, and observing him as a Knight Errant; with which being most vain-glorious, hee could scarce contain himself in his happinesse. Sancho's conceits were such, and so many, that all the Servants of the house hung upon his lipps, and as many also as heard him.

Being at Table Don Antonio said to Sancho: Wee have heard here, honest Sancho, that thou lovest Leech and roasted Olives so well, that when thou canst eat no more, thou keepest the rest in thy bosome till another time. No Sir, '••is not so (said Sancho) for I am more cleanly then so, and my Master Don-Quixote here present knows well, that wee are wont both of us to live eight dayes with a handfull of Acorns or Walnuts•• true it is, that now I look not a given horse in the mouth (I mean) I eat what is given me, and make use of the time present; and whosoever hath said that I am an extraor∣dinarie eater, and not cleanly, let him know hee doth me wrong; and I should pro∣proceed farther, were it not for the company here at Table.

Truly (said Don-Quixote) the parsimony and cleanlinesse with which Sancho feeds, may bee written and graved in sheets of brass, that it may bee eternally remembred by ensuing Ages: True it is, that when hee is hungry, hee is somewhat Ravenous, eats a-pace, and chews on both sides; but for cleanliness, that hee hath punctually ob∣served: and when hee was a Governour, hee learnt to eat most neatly; for hee would eat you Grapes, nay, Pomgranat seeds with his fork. How (quoth Don Antonio) hath Sancho been a Governour? I (said Sancho) and of an Island called Barataria: ten dayes I governed to my will, in them I lost my rest, and learnt to contemn all the Governments in the world. From thence I came flying, and fell into a Pit, where I thought I should have dyed, from whence I escaped miraculously.

Don-Quixote recounted all the particulars of Sancho's Government, with which the hearers were much delighted. The cloth now taken away, and Don Antonio taking Don-Quixote by the hand, carried him into a private chamber, in which there was no other kinde of furniture but a Table that seemed to bee of Jasper, born up with feet of the same upon which there was set a Head, as if it had been of brasse, just as your Ro∣mane Emperours are used to bee, from the brest upward: Don Antonio walked with Don-Quixote up and down the chamber, and having gone a good many turns about the Table, at last hee said: Signior Don-Quixote, now that I am fully perswaded no body

heares us, and that the dore is fast, I will tell you one of the rarest Adventures, or ra∣ther Novelties, that can bee imagined; provided, that what I tell you, shall bee depo∣sited in the uttermost privy Chambers of secresie.

That I vow, said Don-Quixote: and for more safety, I will clap a Tombe-stone o∣ver it; for let mee tell you, Signior Don Antonio (for now hee knew his name) you converse with one, that though hee have eares to heare, yet he hath no tongue to tell: so that what is in your brest, you may freely translate it into mine, and rest assured, that you have flung it into the Abissus of silence.

In confidence of this promise (answered Don Antonio) I will make you admire at what you shall heare and see, and so you shall somewhat ease mee of the trouble I am in, in not finding one that I may communicate my secrets with; with which, every one is not to bee trusted.

Don-Quixote was in great suspence, expecting what would bee the issue of all these circumstances; so Don Antonio taking him by the hand, hee made him feele all over the brazen head and the Table, and Jasper feet, and then said, This head, Signior, was made by one of the greatest Enchanters or Magicians that hath beene in the world, and I beleeve, by Nation hee was a Polander, and one of that famous Scotus his disciples, of whom so many wonders are related, who was here in my house, and for a thousand Crownes I gave him, framed mee this head, that hath the property and quallity to an∣swer to any thing that it is asked in your eare: hee had his trickes and devices, his pain∣ting of Characters, his observing of Starres, look't to every tittle, and finally, brought this head to the perfection that to morrow you shall see, for on the Fridayes still it is mute, which being this day, wee must expect till to morrow; and so in the meane time you may bethinke you what you will demand; for I know by experience, this head answers truly to all that is asked.

Don-Quixote admired at the vertue and property of the head, and could scarce be∣leeve Don Antonio, but seeing how short a time there was to the triall, hee would not gain-say him, but thanked him for discovering so great a secret: So out of the roome they went: Don Antonio locked the dore after him, and they came into a Hall where the rest of the Gentlemen were: in this Interim, Sancho had related to them many of the Adventures and successes that befell his Master. That after-noone they carryed Don-Quixote abroad, not armed, but clad in the Citty garbe, with a loose coat of taw∣ny cloth, that in that season might have made frost it selfe sweat: they gave order to their servants to entertaine Sancho, and not let him stirre out of dores. Don-Quixote rode not upon Rozinante, but on a goodly trotting Mule, with good furniture, they put his coat upon him, and at his back (hee not perceiving it) they sowed a piece of Parch∣ment, wherein was written in Text letters, This is Don-Quixote de la Mancha: as they began their walke, the scrowle drew all mens eyes to looke on it, and as they read, This is Don-Quixote de la Mancha, hee admired to see what a number beheld and named him, and knew him; and turning to Don Antonio that went by him, said, Great is the Prerogative due to Knight Errantry, since over all the world, it makes its Pro∣fessors knowne and renowned; for looke you, Signior Don Antonio, even the very boyes of this Citty having never seene mee before, know mee. Tis true, Signior, quoth Don Antonio: for as fire cannot bee hidden nor bounded, no more can vertue but it must bee knowne; and that which is gotten by the Profession of Armes, doth most flourish and triumph above the rest.

It hapned, that Don-Quixote riding with this applause, a Castillian that read the scrowle at his backe, raised his voyce, saying. The Devill take thee for Don-Quixote de la Mancha: and art thou gotten hither without being killed with those infinite ba∣stings thou hast borne upon thy shoulders? Thou art a mad-man, and wert thou so in private, and within thy house 'twere lesse evill; but thy property is, to make all that converse or treat with thee, mad-men and Cox-combes, as may appeare by these that accompany thee: get thee home, Ideot, and looke to thy Estate, Wife, and Children, and leave these vanities that Worme eate thy braines, and defile thy Intellect. Bro∣ther, said Don Antonio, follow your way, and give no counsell to those that need it not,

Signior Don-Quixote is wise, and wee that doe accompaine him, are no fools: Virtue is worthy to bee honoured wheresoever shee is; and so bee gone with a pox to you, and meddle not where you have nothing to doe. I vow (quoth the Castilian) you have reason; for to give counsail to this man, is to strive against the stream: but for all that, it pitties me very much, that the good understanding they say this block-head hath in all things else, should be let out at the pipe of his Knight Erranty, and a pox light on me (as you wish Sir) and all my Posterity, if from hence-forward, though I should live to the yeers of Methusalem, I give consail to any, though it bee desired.

Thus the Counseller went by, and the shew went on: but the Boyes and all manner of people pressed so thick to read the scrowl, that Don-Antonio was forced to take it off from him, as if hee had done something else.

The night came on, and they returned home, where was a Revels of women; for Don Antonio's Wife, that was well-bred, mirthfull, fair, and discreet, invited other shee-friends of hers, to come and welcome her new Guest, and to make merry with his strange madnesse. Some of them came, and they had a Royall supper, and the Revels began about ten a clock at night. Among these Dames, there were two of a notable waggish disposition, and great scoffers; and though honest, yet they strained their car∣riage, that their tricks might the better delight without irksomenesse; these were so eager to take Don-Quixote out to Dance, that they wearied not only his body, but his minde likewise: 'twas a goodly sight to see his shape, long, lank, lean, his visage pale, the whole man shut up in his apparel, ungraceful & unweildy. The Damzels wooed him as it were by stealth, and he by stealth disdained them as fast: but seeing himself much pressed by their courtings, he lifed up his voyce, and said, Fugite partes adv••rsae, and leave me, oh unwelcome imaginations, to my quiet: Get you farther off with your wishes Ladies; for shee that is the Ladie of mine, the peerlesse Dulcinea del Toboso, will have none but hers subject and conquer me: and so saying, hee sate him down in the midest of the Hall upon the ground, bruised and broken with his dancing exercise. Don An∣tonio made him bee taken up in mens armes, and carried to Bed: the first that laid hold on him was Sancho, saying, In the name of God, what meant you, Master mine to Dance? Think you that all that are valiant, must bee Dancers? and all Knights Errant Skip∣jacks? I say, if you think so, you are deceived; you have some that will rather kill Gyants then fetch a caper: if you were to frisk, I would save you that labour; for I can doe it like a Ier-Falcon; but in your dancing, I cannot work a stitch.

With this, and such like discourse Sancho made the Revellers laugh, and laid his Ma∣ster to Bed, laying clothes enough on him, that hee might sweat out the cold hee had taken by dancing.

The next day Don Antonio thought fit to try the enchanted Head; and so, with Don Quixote, Sancho, and others his friends, and the two Gentlewomen that had so labour∣ed Don-Quixote in the Dance, that staid all night with Don Antonio's Wife, hee locked himself in the Room where the head was; hee told them its propertie, enjoyhing them to silence; and hee said to them, That this was the first time in which hee meant to make proof of the virtue of the Enchanted head, and, except his two friends, no living creature else knew the trick of that Enchantment; and if Don Antonio had not disco∣vered it to them, they also would have faln into the same admiration that the rest did; for it was not otherwise possible; the fabrick of it being so curious and cun∣ning.

The first that came to the Heads hearing, was Don Antonio himself, who spoke softly, but so that hee might be heard by all: Tell me Head, by the virtue that is contained in thee, What think I now? And the Head answered (not moving the lips, with a lowd and distinct voyce, that all the by-standers might hear this reason) I judge not of thoughts. Which when they all heard, they were astonisht, and the more, seeing neither in all the Roome, nor any where about the Table, there was not any humane creature to answer. How many here be there of us (quoth Don Antonio again?) And answer was made him in the same tenour voyce: There are thou and thy Wife, with two of thy hee-friends, and two of her shee-friends, and a famous Knight called Don-Quixote

de la Mancha, and a Squire of his that hight Sancho Panca. I marry Sir, here was the wondring a-fresh; here was every ones hair standing on end with pure horror! And Don Antonio getting him aside from the Head, said, 'Tis enough now for me to know that I was not deceived by him that sold thee me, sage Head, talking Head, answering Head, admired Head •• Come another now, and ask what hee will: and as your wo∣men for the most part are hastiest, and most inquisitive, the first that came, was one of Don Antonio's Wives friends, and her demand was this: Tell me Head, What shall I doe to make my self fair? The answer was, Bee honest. I have done, said shee. Straight came her other companion, and said, I would fain know Head, whether my Husband love me or no. And the answer was, Thou shalt know by his usage. The Married woman stood by, saying; The question might have been spared; for good usage is the best signe of affection. Then came one of Don Antonio's friends, and asked, Who am I? The answere was, Thou knowest. I aske thee not that, said the Gentleman, but whether thou know me? I doe, it was answered; Thou art Don Pedro Noris. No more, O Head •• let this suffice to make me know thou knowest all. And so stepping aside, the other friend came and asked, Tell me Head, What desires hath my eldest son? I have told you (it was answered) That I judge not of thoughts; yet let me tell you, your sonne desires to bury you: That (quoth the Gentleman) I know well, and dayly perceive: but I have done. Don Antonio's Wife came next, and said, Head, I know not what to ask thee, I would only fain know of thee, If I shall long enjoy my dear Husband. And the answer was, Thou shalt, for his health and spare dyet promise him many yeers, which many shorten by distempers.

Now came Don-Quixote, and said, Tell me, thou that answerest, Was it true or a dream, that (as I recount) befell me in Montesino's Cave? Shall Sancho my Squires whipping bee accomplisht? Shall Dulcinea bee dis-enchanted? For that of the Cave (quoth the Answerer) there is much to bee said; it partakes of all: Sancho's whip∣ping shall bee prolonged: but Dulcinea's dis-enchanting shall come to a reall end. I desire no more (said Don-Quixote) for so Dulcinea bee disenchanted, I make account all my good fortunes come upon me at a clap.

Sancho was the last Demander, and his question was this: Head, shall I haply have another Government? Shall I bee free from this penurious Squires life? Shall I see my Wife and Children again? To which it was answered him: In thy house thou shalt Govern; whither, if thou return, thou shalt see thy Wife and Children; and leaving thy Service, thou shalt leave being a Squire. Very good (quoth Sancho) this I could have told before, my self, and my Fathers Horse could have said no more. Beast (quoth Don-Quixote) what answer wouldest thou have? Is it not enough, that the answers this Head gives thee, are correspondent to thy questions? 'Tis true (said Sancho) but I would have known more.

And now the questions and answers were ended: but not the admiration, in which all remained, but Don Antonio's friends that knew the conceit. Which Cid Hamete Benehgeli would forthwith declare, not to hold the world in suspence, to think that some Witch or extraordinary mysterie was enclosed in the said Head: And thus saith hee, That Don Antonio Moreno, in imitation of another Head which hee saw in Ma∣drid, framed by a Carver, caused this to bee made in his house, to entertain the simple, and make them wonder at it; and the Fabrick was in this manner:

The Table it self was of wood, painted and varnished over like Jasper, and the foot, on which it stood, was of the same, with four Eagles claws standing out to uphold it the better.

The Head that shewed like the Medall, or picture of a Romane Emperour and of brasse colour, was all hollow, and so was the Table too; to which it was so cunningly joyned, that there was no appearance of it: the foot of the Table was likewise hollow, that answered to the brest and neck of the head: and all this answered to another Chamber, that was under the Room where the Head was: and thorow all this hol∣lownesse of the foot, the table, brest and neck of the Medall, there went a tinne pipe, made fit to them, that could not bee perceived.

Hee that was to Answere, set his Mouth to the Pipe, in the Chamber underneathe, Answering to this upper Roome; so that the Voice ascended and descended, as through a Trunke, so cleerely and distinctly, as it was hardly possible to make discovery of the juggling.

A Nephew of Don Antonio's, a Scholler, a good witty and discreet youth was the an∣swerer; who having notice from his Uncle of those that were to enter the Roome, it was easie for him to answer suddenly and punctually, to their first questions, and to the rest he answered by discreet conjectures.

Moreover Cid Hamete saies, that this marvelous Engine lasted for some ten or twelve daies; but when it was divulged up and downe the Citie, that Don Antonio had an Enchanted Head in his House that answered to all questions; fearing lest it should come to the notice of the waking Centinels of our Faith: Having acquainted those Inquisitors with the businesse, they commanded him to make away with it, lest it should scandalize the ignorant vulgar: But yet in Don-Quixote and Sanchoes opini∣on the Head was still Encha••ted and answering; but indeed not altogether so much to Sanchoes satisfaction.

The gallants of the City, to please Don Antonio, and for Don-Quixotes better ho∣spitalitie, and on purpose that his madnesse might make the more generall sport, ap∣pointed a runing at the Ring, about a sixe dayes after, which was broken off upon an occasion that after hapned.

Don-Quixote had a minde to walke round about the City on foote, fearing that if hee went •• Horsehack, the Boyes would persecute him: So hee and Sancho, with two servants of Don Antonioes went a walking. It happened, that as they passed through one Streete, Don-Quixote looked up and saw written upon a Doore in great Letters, Here are Bookes printed, which did please him very wonderfully, for till then hee had never seene any Presse; and hee much desired to know the man∣ner of it.

In he went with all his retinue, where he saw in one place drawing of sheets, in ano∣ther Correcting, in this Composing, in that mending: Finaly, all the Machine that is usuall in great Presses.

Don-Quixote came to one of the Boxes, and asked what they had in hand there? the workemen told him; he wondred and passed farther. To another he came, and asked one that was in it, what he was doing? The workman answered Sir, This Gen∣tleman you see (and he shewed him a good comely proper man and somewhat ancient) hath translated an Italian Booke into Spanish; and I am composing of it here to bee Printed.

What is the name of it (quoth Don-Quixote?) To which said the Author, Sir, it is called Le Bagatele, to wit, in Spanish, The Trifle, and though it beare but a mean name, yet it contains in it many great and substantiall matters.

I understand a little Italian, said Don Quixote, and dare venter upon a Stan∣zo of Ariostoes: But tell mee Signior mine (not that I would examine your skill, but only for Curiositie:) Have you ever found set downe in all your writing the word Pinnata? Yes, often quoth the Author; and how translate you it, said Don-Quixote.

How should I translate it said the Author, but in saying Potage pot? Body of me said Don-Quixote, and how forward are you in the Italian Idiome? Ile lay a good wager that where the Italian sayes, Piaccie, you translate it Please; and where Pin, you say more; and Su is above; and Giu, beneath.

Yes indeed doe I said the Author; for these be their proper significations.

I dare sweare (quoth Don-Quixote) you are not knowne to the world, which is alwaies backward in rewarding flourishing wits, and laudable industrie: Oh what a company of rare abilities are lost in the world! What witts cubbed up? What Vir∣tues contemned; but for all that mee thinkes, this translating from one language into another (except it be out of the Queenes of Tongues, Greeke and Latine) is just like looking upon the wrong side of Arras hangings; that although the Pictures bee seene,

yet they are full of thred-ends that darken them, and they are not seene with the plain∣nesse and smoothnesse, as on the other side; and the translating out of easie languages, argues neither wit, nor elocution, no more then doth the coppying from out of one Paper into another: yet I inferr not from this, that translating is not a laudable exercise: for a man may bee far worse employed, and in things lesse profitable.

I except amongst Translators our two famous ones: the one, Doctor Christoval de Figneroa in his Pastor fido, and the other, Don Iohn de Xaurigni, in his Amyntas, where they haply leave it doubtfull, which is the Translation or Originall. But tell mee, Sir, Print you this Book upon your owne charge, or sell you your licence to some Booke∣binder? Vpon mine owne, said the Author, and I thinke to get a thousand crownes by it at least, with this first impression: for there will bee two thousand Copies, and they will vent at three shillings apiece roundly.

You understand the matter well, said Don-Quixote: it seemes you know not the passages of Printers, and the correspondencies they have betwixt one and the other: I promise you, that when you have two thousand Copies lying by you, you'le bee so troubled, as passeth; and the rather, if the booke bee but a little dull, and not conceited all thorow.

Why, would you have mee (quoth the Author) let a Booke-seller have my Licence, that would give mee but a halfe-penny a Sheet, and that thinkes hee doth mee a kind∣nes in it too? I print not my workes to get fame in the world: for I am by them well known in it, I must have profit; for without that, fame is not worth a rush.

God send you good lucke, said Don-Quixote; so hee passed to another Box, where hee saw some correcting a sheet of a Book, Intituled, The light of the Soule: and in seeing it, hee said, Such Bookes as these (though there bee many of them) ought to bee imprinted: for there bee many sinners, and many lights are needfull, for so many bee darkned.

Hee went on, and saw them correcting another Booke; and enquiring the Title, they answered him, that it was called, The second part of the Ingenious Knight Don-Quixote de la Mancha, made by such a one, an Inhabitant of Tordesillas.

I have notice of this Book, said Don-Quixote, and in my conscience, I thought be∣fore now, it had beene burnt and turned to ashes for an idle Pamphlet: but it will not, like Hogs, want it's Saint Martin: [Against that Saints day is Hogs searing:] for your fained Histories are so much the more good and delightfull, by how much they come neere the truth, or the likenesse of it: and the true ones are so much the better, by how much the truer; and saying thus, with some shewes of distaste, hee left the Presse: and that very day Don Antonio purposed to carry him to the Gallies, that were in the Wharfe: at which Sancho much rejoyced; for hee had never in his life seene any.

Don Antonio gave notice to the Generall of the Gallies, that in the afternoone hee would bring his guest, the famous Don-Quixote de la Mancha, to see them: of whom all the Citty by this time had notice. And in the next Chapter, what hapned to him, shall bee declared.

CHAP. LXIII.

Of the ill chance that befell Sancho at his seeing the Gallies, with the strange Adventure of the Morisca.

GReat were the Discourses that Don-Quixote framed to himselfe, touch∣ing the answeres of the Enchanted head, but none of them fell into the Imposture, and all concluded in the promise, which hee held for certaine, of the dis-enchantment of Dulcinea: there his blood flowed within him, and hee rejoyced within himself, beleeving hee should soon see the accomplishment of it: And Sancho, though (as hath been said) hee abhorred to bee a Governour, yet hee desired to beare sway again, and to bee obeyed: for such is the desire of Rule though it bee but in jest.

In conclusion, that afternoon Don Antonio Moreno their Host, with his two friends, Don-Quixote, and Sancho, went to the Gallies. The Generall, who had notice of their comming, as soon as they were come neer the Sea side, made all the Gallies strike their Tilt-sayles, and the Ho-boyes sounded, and they lanched a Cock-boat to the water, which was all covered with rich clothes, and Cushions of Crimson-Velvet: and just as Don Quixote entred into it, the Admirall Gally discharged her fore-Castle peece; and the rest of the Gallies likewise did the same: and as Don-Quixote mounted at the right side Ladder, all the fry of the Slaves, as the custome is, when any man of quality enters the Gally, cryed, Hu, Hu, Hu, thrise a-row.

The Generall, who was a man of qualitie, a Valencian Gentleman, gave him his hand: and being entred, embraced him, saying, This day will I mark with a white stone, for one of the best that shall have befaln me in all my life time; having seene Signior Don-Quixote de la Manca; the time and signes that appear in him, shewing that all the worth of a Knight Errant, is contained and summed up in him. With the like cour∣teous phrase replyed Don-Quixote, jocund above measure, to see himself so Lord-like treated withall.

They all went a-Stern, which was very well drest up, and they sate upon the Railes. The Boat-Swain got him to the fore-Castle, and gave warning with his whistle to the Slaves, to dis-robe themselves; which was done in an instant.

Sancho, that saw so many naked men, was astonisht; and the more, when hee saw them hoyst up their Tilt so speedily, that he thought all the Devills in Hell laboured there. Sancho sate upon the Pilots seat, neer the hindermost Rower, on the right hand; who being instructed what hee should doe, laid hold on Sancho; and so lifting him up passed him to another; and the second to a third: so the whole rabble of the Slaves, beginning at the right side, passed and made him vault from one seat to another so violently, that poor Sancho lost his sight, and undoubtedly believed, that the Fiends of Hell carried him; and they gave him not over, till they had pasted him over all the left fide too, and then set him again on the Stern: so the poor soul was sore bruised and be∣mauled, and scarce imagined what had hapned to him.

Don-Quixote, that saw this slight of Sancho's without wings, asked the Gene∣rall, if those were Ceremonies, that were used to such as came newly into the Gallie? for if they were, that hee who intended not to professe in them, liked no such pastime: and hee vowed to God, that if any came to lay hold on him, to make him tumble, hee would kick out his soule: and in so saying, hee stood up, and grasped his sword.

At this instant they let down the Tilt again, and with a terrible noyse, let fall the Main-yard, so that Sancho thought Heaven was off the hinges, and fell upon his head, which hee crouched together, and clapped it for fear betwixt his leggs. Don∣Quixote was not altogether as hee should bee; for he began to quake and shrink up his shoul∣ders

and grew pale. The Slaves hoysted the Main-yard with the same fury and noyse that they had formerly strook it with, and all with such silence, as if they had had neither voyce nor breath. The Boat-Swain made signes to them to weigh Anchor: and leaping toward the fore-Castle, in the midest of them, with his whip or Bulls-pizzle, hee began to fly-flap their shoulders.

When Sancho saw such a companie of red feet move at once (for such he ghessed the Oars to bee) hee said to himself, I marry, here bee things truly Enchanted, and not those my Master speaks of. What have these unhappy souls committed, that they are thus lashed? And how dares this fellow that goes whistling up and down alone, whip so many? Well, I say this is Hell, or Purgatorie at least.

Don Quixote, that saw with what attention Sancho beheld all that passed, said, Ah friend Sancho, how speedily, and with how little cost might you, if you would, take off your doublet, and clap your self amongst these fellows, and make an end of dis-enchant∣ing Dulcinea? for having so many companions in misery, you would not bee so sen∣sible of pain: and besides, it might bee, that the sage Merlin might take every one of these lashes, being well laid on, for ten.

The Generall would have asked what lashes those were, and what dis-enchatment of Dulcinea's? when a Marriner cryed out, Momiri makes signes that there is a Vessell with Oars towards the west side of the Coast. (Which said) The Generall leapt upon the fore-Castle, and cryed out, Goe to, my hearts, let her not scape; this Boat that our watch-towre discovers, is some Frigot of Argiers Pirates.

And now the three other Gallies came to their Admirall to know what they should doe. The Generall commanded that two of them should lanch to the Sea; and hee with the other would goe betwixt Land and Land, that so the Vessell might not escape them.

The Slaves rowed hard, and so furiously drave on the Gallies, as if they had flown; and those that lanched first into the Sea, about two miles off discovered a Vessell, which in sight they marked to have about a fourteen or fifteen Oares, as it fell out to bee true: which Vessell, when shee discovered the Gallies, shee put her self in chase; hoping by her swiftnesse to scape: but it prevailed nothing; for the Admirall Gally was one of the swiftest Vessells that sayled in the Sea, and so got of the other so much, that they in the Frigot plainly saw, that they could not escape: and so the Master of her would have had them forsaken their Oares and yeelded, for fear of offending our Generall: but fate that would have it otherwise, so disposed the matter, that as the Admirall came on so nigh, that they in the Barke might heare a cry from the Gally that they should yeeld: two Toraquis, that is, two drunken Turks that were in the Frigot with twelve others, discharged two Calievers, with which they killed two Soul∣diers that stood abaft our Gally. Which when our Generall saw, hee vowed not to leave a man alive in the Vessell: and comming in great fury to grapple with her, shee escaped under the Gallies Oares: the Gally passed forward a pretty way: they in the Vessell saw themselves gone, and began to set sail, and to fly afresh as they saw the Gally comming on them: but their industry did them not so much good, as their presumption hurt: for the Admirall overtaking them within one half mile, clapped his Oares in the Vessell, and so took her and every man alive in her.

By this the two other Gallies came; and all four returned to the Wharf with their Prize, where a world of People expected them, desirous to see what they brought: the Generall cast Anchor neer land, and perceived that the Vice-Roy of the City was on the shore; hee commanded that a Cock-boat should bee lanched to bring him; and that they should strike the Main yard to hang presently the Master of the Frigot, and the rest of the Turks that they had taken in her, which were about six and thirty persons, all goodly men, and most of them Turkish shot.

The Generall asked who was Master of the Barke? and answer was made him by one of the Captives in Spanish (who appeared after to be a Runagate Spainiard;) This Youth you see here is our Master; and he shewed him one of the goodliest comly Youths that could bee deciphered by humane imagination.

He was not to see to, above twenty yeers of age: The Generall asked; Tell mee ill-advised Dogg, what moved thee to kill my Souldiers, since thou sawst it was impossi∣ble for to escape? is this the respect due to Admiralls? Knowest not thou that rashnesse is not valour? doubtfull hopes may make men bold, but not desperate.

The Master would have replyed, but the Generall could not as yet give him the hearing, by reason of his going to welcome the Vice-roy aboord, who entred now the Gally with some servants of his, and others of the City.

You have had a pretty chase on't, my Lord Generall (said the Vice-roy.) So pretty (said the Generall) that your excellency shall see it hanged up at the Main-yard. How so (quoth the Vice-roy?) Why, they have killed me (said he) against all Law of Arms, Rea∣son, or Custome of Warrs, two of the best Souldiers I had in my Gallies, & I have sworn to hang them all, especially this Youth, the Master of the Frigot; and hee shewed him one that had his hands bound, and the halter about his neck, expecting his death. The Vice-roy beheld him, and seeing him so comely, handsome, and humble withall, his beauty giving him in that instant, as it were, a Letter of recommendation: the Vice-roy had a minde to save him; and therefore asked; Tell me Master, Art thou a Turk born, or a Moor, or a Runagate?

To which the Youth answered him in his own language: Neither of all. Why, what art thou (quoth the Vice-roy?) A Christian woman (said the young man.) A Woman and a Christian in this habit, in these employments? a thing rather to be won∣dred at then believed. My Lords, I beseech you (quoth the Youth) let my execution bee a little deferred, whilest I recount my life. What heart so hard that would not bee softned with that reason, at least to heare the sad and grieved Youth to tell his story? The Generall bade him proceed, but that there was no hope for him of pardon for his notorious offence. So the Youth began in this manner.

Of that Linage, more unhappie then wise, on which a Sea of misfortunes in these latter times have rained, am I; born of Moriscan Parents; and in the current of their misery, was carried by two of my Uncles into Barbary; it nothing availing me to say I was a Christian, as I am indeed, and not seeming so, as many of us, but truly Catholike: but this truth prevailed nothing with the Officers that had charge given them to look to our banishment, neither would my Uncles believe I was a Christian, but that it was a trick of mine to stay in my native Country; and so rather forcibly then by my consent they carried me with them. My Mother was a Christian, and my Father discreet, and so likewise I sucked the Catholike Faith in my Milk: I was well brought up, and nei∣ther in my language or fashion, made shew to bee a Morisca. With these Virtues my beauty (if so bee I have any) increased also; and though my restraint and retirement was great, yet it was not such, but that a young Gentleman, called Don Gasper Gregorio had gotten a sight of me: This Gentleman was Sonne and Heir to a Knight that lived neer to our Town: hee saw me, and we had some speech; and seeing himself lost to me, but I not won by him, 'twere large to sell, especially fearing that as I am speaking, this halter must throttle me: yet I say, that Don Gregorio would needs accompanie me in my banishment: and so mingling himself with Moriscos that came out of other places (for hee understood the language well) in our Voyage hee got acquainted with my two Uncles that went with me; for my Father wisely when hee heard the Edict of our banishment, went out of our Town, and went to seek some place in a Forraign Country, where wee might be entertained; and hee left many Pearls, precious Stones, and some money in double Pistolets hidden in a secret place (which I only know of) but hee commanded me by no means to meddle with it, if wee were banish'd before his return. I did so, and with my Unkles and others of our Kindred, passed into Babary, and our resting place was Argiers, I might have said Hell. The King there had notice of my beauty, and likewise that I was rich, which partly fell out to bee my happinesse. Hee sent for me, and asked me of what part of Spain I was, and what money and jewels I brought? I told him the place; but that my Jewels and Monies were buried: but that they might easily bee had, if I might but goe thither for them. All this I said, hoping his own covetousnesse would more blinde him then my beauty.

Whilest wee were in this discourse, they told him there came one of the goodliest faire Youths with mee that could bee imagined. I thought presently it was Don Gre∣gorio they meant, whose comelinesse is not to bee paralell'd. It troubled me to think in what danger hee would bee; for those Barbarous Turkes do more esteeme a hand∣some Boy, then a Woman, bee shee never so faire. The King commanded straight, that he should be brought before him, that he might see him, and asked me if it were true they said of the Youth. I told him Yes (and it seemed Heaven put it into my head) but that hee was no man, but a woman as I was, and I desired him hee would give me leave to cloath her in her naturall habit, that her beauty might appear to the full, and that o∣therwise too, shee would bee too shamefast befoe him. Hee bad mee doe so, and that on the morrow hee would give order for my returne to Spaine to seeke the hidden Treasure. I spoke with Don Gaspar, and told him what danger hee had been in by being a man: so I clad him like a Moorish woman, and that afternoon brought him to the Kings presence, who seeing him, admired at her beauty, and thought to reserve him, and to send him for a Present to the Grand Signior: and so to avoid the danger in his Sarra∣glio of women if hee put her there; hee commanded her to bee kept in a house of certain Moorish Gentlewomen, whither hee was carryed. How this troubl•••• as both (for I cannot deny that I love him) let them consider that have been absent from their Loves. The King gave order then, that I should come for Spaine in this Frigot, and that these two Turks that killed your Souldiers, should accompany mee, and this Renegate Spaniard, pointing to him that had first spoken, who I know is in heart a Christian, and hath a greater desire to remaine here, then to returne into Barbary, the rest are Moors and Turkes that onely serve for Rowers. The two covetous and insolent Turkes, not respecting the order wee had, that they should set mee and this Runnagate Spa∣niard on the first shore, in the habits of Christians (of which we were provided) would needs first scowre the coast, and take some prize, if they could, fearing that if they first should set us on land, by some mischance wee might discover, the Frigot to bee upon the coast: so that they might be taken by the Gallies, and overnight we described this wharf, and not knowing of these foure Gallies, wee were discovered, and this hath befalne us that you have seene. In fine, Don Gregorio remaines in his womans habit amonst Women in manyfest danger of his destruction, and I am here Prisoner, expecting, or to say truer; fearing the losing of my life, which notwithstanding wearies mee. This, Sirs, is the conclusion of my lamentable History, as true as unfortunate: my request is, that I may die a Christian, since (as I have said) I am not guilty of that crime into which the rest of my Nation have fallen: and with this she broke off; her eyes pregnant with teares, which were accompanied with many from the standers by also.

The Viceroy, all tender and compassionate, came to her and undid the Cord that bound the Moores faire hands. In the meane time, whilest this Christian Morisca re∣lated her Story, an ancient Pilgrim that entred the Gally had his eyes fastned upon her; and shee had no sooner ended her discourse, when hee cast himselfe at her feet, and embracing them with interrupted words, Sighs, and Sobs, said, Oh my unfortunate Daughter Ana Felix, I am Ricote thy Father, that have returned to seeke thee, as not being able to live without thee; for thou art my very soule. At these words Sancho opend his eyes, and lifted up his head (which hee held downe, thinking up∣on his ill-favoured tossing in the Gally) and beholding the Pilgrim, knew him to bee the same Ricote that hee met the same day hee left his Government, and it appear'd shee was his Daughter, when being unbound shee embraced her Father, mingling her teares with his. Then said hee to the Generall and Viceroy, This, my Lords, is my Daughter, more unhappy in her successe, then in her name, as famous for beauty, as I for Wealth. I left my Country, to finde a resting-place in some strange Country, and having found one in Germany, returned in this Pilgrimes weed in company of other Germanes to seek my Daughter, and to dig out my hidden Treasure, but found not her, and the Treasure I bring with mee, and now by strange chance have lighted on my greatest Treasure, that is, my beloved Daughter: if so be our small offence, and her tears and mine together, with the integrity of your Justice, may open the gates of mercy,

shew it us that never had so much as a thought once to offend you, nor conspired with those of our own linage, who were justly banished. Then said Sancho, I know Ri∣cote well, and know all is true hee saith, concerning that Ana Felix is his Daugh∣ter, but for other flim-flams, whether hee had a good or bad intention, I intermeddle not.

The by-standers wondring all at this accident, the Generall said, Well, your tears will not let me accomplish my vow: live, faire Ana Felix, as long as Heaven will give thee leave, and let those rash Slaves dye that committed the fault: So hee commanded that the two Turks that had killed his two Souldiers, should presently bee hanged upon the Main-yard: but the Vice-roy desired him earnestly not to hang them, since they had shewed more madness then valour. The Generall condescended, for revenge is not good in cold blood; and straight they contrived how to get Don Gregorio free. Ricote offered two thousand Ducats hee had in Pearls and Jewels towards it: Many means were thought on, but none so good as that of the Renegado Spanyard that was mentioned, who offered to return to Argiers in some small Bark, only with some six Christian Oares; for hee knew where, how, and when to dis-embarke himself, and the house also where Don Gasper was. The Generall and Vice-roy were in some doubt of him, or to trust him with the Christians that should row with him. But Ana Felix undertook for him, and Ricote offered to ransome the Christians if they were taken. And being agreed, the Vice-roy went a-shore, and Don Antonio Moreno carried the Morisca and her Father with him: the Vice-roy enjoyning him to use them as well as possibly he might, and offered him the command of any thing in his house toward it. Such was the charity and benevolence that the beauty of Ana Felix had infused into his brest.

CHAP. LXIV.

Of an Adventure that most perplext Don-Quixote, of any that hitherto befell him.

THe History saies that Don Antonio Moreno's Wife took great delight to see Ana Felix in her house: shee welcommed her most kindely, en∣amoured as well on her goodnesse, as beauty and discretion; for in all the Morisca was exquisite, and all the City came (as if by a warn∣ing Bell) to see her. Don-Quixote told Don Antonio, that they took a wrong course for the freeing of Don Gregorio, which was more dan∣gerous then convenient; and that it had been better, that hee were set on shore in Barbary with his Horse and Armes; for that hee would deliver him in spight of the whole Moorisme there, as Don Gayseros had done his Spouse Melisendra.

Look you Sir, said Sancho (when hee heard this) Don Gayferos brought his Spouse through firm land, and so carried her into France: but here, though wee should de∣liver Don Gregorio, wee have no means to bring him into Spain, the Sea being betwixt us and home.

There is a remedy for every thing but death (said Don-Quixote;) for 'tis but having a Bark ready at the Sea side, and in spight of all the world wee may embarke our selves.

You doe prettily facilitate the matter (said Sancho) but 'tis one thing to say, and another to doe: and I like the Runnagate; for me thinks hee is a good honest plain fellow. Don Antonio said, That if the Runnagate performed not the husinesse, that then the Grand Don-Quixote should passe over into Barbary. Some two daies after the Runnagate embark'd in a little Boat with six Oares on a side, manned with lusty

tall fellows, and two dayes after that, the Gallies were Eastward bound; the Generall having requested the Vice-roy, that hee would bee pleased to let him know the successe of Don Gregorio's liberty, and likewise Ana Felix. The Vice-roy promised to fulfill his request.

And Don-Quixote going out one morning to take the ayre upon the Wharf, armed at all points; for as hee often used to say, his Armes were his Ornaments, and to skir∣mish his delight; and so hee was never without them; hee saw a Knight come toward him, armed from top to toe, carrying upon his shield a bright shining Moon painted, who comming within distance of hearing, directing his voyce to Don-Quixote aloud, said: Famous Knight, and never sufficiently extolled Don-Quixote de la Mancha, I am the Knight of the white Moon, whose renowned Deeds perhaps thou hast heard of; I am come to combat with thee, and by force of Armes to make thee know and confesse, that my Mistris, bee shee whom shee will, is without comparison, fairer then thy Dulcinea del Toboso; which truth, if thou plainly confesse, thou shalt save thy life, and me a labour in taking it: and if thou fight, and that I vanquish thee, all the satisfa∣ction that I will have, is, that thou forsake thy Armes, and leave seeking Adventures, and retire thy self to thy home for the space of one whole yeer, where thou shale live peaceably and quietly, without laying hand to thy Sword, which befits thy estate, and also thy souls health: And if thou vanquish me, my head shall bee at thy mercy; and the spoyles of my Horse and Armour shall bee thine, and also the same of my exploits shall passe from me to thee: Consider what is best to be done, and answer me quickly; for I have only this dayes respit to dispatch this businesse.

Don-Quixote was ashonisht and in suspence, as well at the Knight of the White Moon his arrogance, as the cause of it, for which hee challenged him: and so with a quiet and staid demeanour answered him:

Knight of the white Moon, whose exploits hitherto I have not heard of, I dare swear thou never sawst the famous Dulcinea; for if thou hadest, I know thou wouldest not have entred into this demand: for her sight would have confirmed, that their neither hath been, nor can be a beauty to be compared with hers: & therefore not to say you lye, but that you erre in your proposition, I accept of your challenge with the aforesaid conditions; and strait because your limited day shall not passe, and I only except against one of your conditions, which is, That the fame of your exploits passe to me; for I know not what kind of ones yours be, and I am content with mine own such as they be: beginn you then your Career when you will, and I will doe the like, and God and S. George.

The Vice-roy had notice of this, and thought it had been some new Adventure plot∣ted by Don Antonio Moreno, or some other Gentleman: and so out of the Citie hee went with Don Antonio, and many other Gentlemen that accompanied him to the Wharf, just as Don-Quixote was turning Rozinantes Reins to take up as much ground as was sit for him. When the Vice-roy saw in both of them signes to encounter, hee put himself betwixt them, and asked, what was the cause of their single Combat? The Knight of the white Moon answered him, that it was about a precedency in beauty, and briefly repeated what hee had formerly done to Don Quixote, together with the condi∣tions accepted by both Parties.

The Vice-roy came to Don Antonio, and asked him in his care, if hee knew that Knight of the white Moon, or if it were some trick they meant to put upon Don-Quixote?

Don Antonio made answer, that hee neither knew the Knight, or whether the Com∣bat were in jest or earnest.

This answer made the Vice-roy doubt whether hee should let them proceed to the Combat; but being perswaded that it could not bee but a jest, he removed, saying: Sir Knights, if there be no remedy but to confesse or dye, and that Signior Don-Quixote be obstinate, and you Knight of the white Moon more so then he, God have mercy on you, and to 't.

The Knight of the white Moon most courteously thanked the Vice-roy for the licence

hee gave them, and Don-Quixote too did the like; who heartily recommending him∣selfe to Heaven, and his Mistris Dulcinea (as hee used upon all such occasions) hee tur∣ned about to begin his Careere, as his enemy had done, and without Trumpets sound, or of any other warlike instrument that might give them signall for the onset: they both of them set Spurres to thir Horses, and the Knight of the White-Moones being the swifter, met Don-Quixote ere hee had ranne a quarter of his Careere so forcibly (without touching him with his Launce, for it seemed hee carried it aloft on purpose) that hee tumbled Horse and Man both to the ground, and Don-Quixote had a ter∣rible fall: so hee got straight on the top of him; and clapping his Launces point up∣on his Visor, said, You are vanquished, Knight, and a dead man, if you confesse not, accor∣ding to the conditions of our combate.

Don-Quixote all bruised and amazed, without heaving up his Visor, as if hee had spoken out of a Toombe, with a faint and weake voyce, said, Dulcinea del Toboso, is the fairest Woman in the world, and I the unfortunatest Knight on earth; and it is not fit that my weaknesse defraud this truth: thrust your Launce into mee, Knight, and kill mee, since you have bereaved mee of my honour. Not so truly, quoth hee of the White-Moone, let the same of my Lady Dulcinea's beauty live in her entirenesse: I am onely contented that the Grand Don-Quixote retire home for a yeer, or till such time as I please, as wee agreed, before wee began the battell.

All this, the Vice-Roy with Don Antonio and many others standing by heard; and Don-Quixote answered, that so nothing were required of him in prejudice of his Lady Dulcinea, hee would accomplish all the rest, like a true and punctuall Knight.

This Confession ended, the Knight of the white-Moone turned his Horse, and making a low obeysance on Horse-back to the Vice-Roy, hee rode a false gallop in∣to the Citty. The Vice-Roy willed Don Antonio to follow him, and to know by all meanes who hee was.

Don-Quixote was lifted up, and they discovered his face, and found him discolour'd and in a cold sweat. Rozinante out of pure hard handling, could not as yet stirr.

Sancho all sad and sorrowfull knew not what to doe or say, and all that had hap∣ned, to him seemed but a dreame: and all that Machine, a matter of Enchantment: hee saw his Master was vanquished, and bound not to take Armes for a yeer. Now he thought the light of his glory was Eclipsed, the hopes of his late promises were un∣done, and parted as smoke with winde: hee feared lest Rozinante's bones were bro∣ken, and his Masters out of joynt: Finally, in a Chaire, which the Vice-Roy commanded to bee brought, hee was carryed to the Citty, whither the Vice-Roy too returned, de∣sirous to know who the Knight of the White-Moone was, that had left Don-Quixote in so bad a taking.

CHAP. LV.

Who the Knight of the White-Moon was, with Don Gre∣gorio's liberty, and other passages,

DOn Antonio Moreno followed the Knight of the White-Moone, and many Boyes too followed and persecuted him till hee got him to his Inne into the Citty. Don Antonio entred, desirous to know him; and hee had his Squire to un-arme him: hee shut himselfe in a lower Roome, and Don Antonio with him, who stood upon Thornes, till hee knew who hee was.

Hee of the White-Moone, seeing then that the Gentleman would not leave him, said, I well know, Sir, wherefore you come, and to know who I am;

and since there is no reason to deny you this, I will tell you, whilest my man is unarm∣ing me, the truth without erring a jot. Know Sir, that I am stiled the Bachelour Sam∣son Carrasco, and am one of Don-Quixotes Town; whose wilde madnesse hath moved as many of us as know him to compassion; and mee amongst the rest most: and be∣leeving that the best means to procure his health, is to keep him quiet: And so to have him in his own house, I thought upon this device: and so about a three moneths since I met him upon the way, calling my self by the name of The Knight of the Looking-glasses, with a purpose to fight with him, and vanquish him, without doing him any hurt, and making this the condition of our Combat, That the vanquished should bee left to the discretion of the vanquisher: and that which I would enjoyne him (for I held him al∣ready conquered) was, That hee should ret••rn home, and not abroad again in a whole yeer; in which time hee might haply have been cured: but fortune would have it otherwise; for he vanquished me, and unhorsed me, and so my project took no effect: hee went on his way, and I returned conquered, ashamed, and bruised with my fall, that was very dangerous: but for all that, I had still a desire to finde him again, and to conquer him, as now you have seen.

And hee being so punctuall in observing the Orders of Knight Errantry, will doubt∣lesse keep his promise made to me.

This Sir is all I can tell you, and I beseech you conceale me from Don-Quixote, that my desires may take effect; and that the man who hath otherwise a good understand∣ing, may recover it if his madnesse leave him.

Oh Sir (said Don Antonio) God forgive you the wrong you doe the whole world, in seeking to recover the pleasantest mad-man in the world.

Perceive you not that this recovery cannot be so much worth, as the delight that his fopperies cause? but I imagine, Sir Bachelor, that all your Art will not make a man so irrecoverably mad, wise again: and if it were not uncharitable, I would say, Never may he recover: for in his health wee lose not only his own conceits, but Sancho Panca his Squires too, each of which would turn melancholy it self into mirth: for all that I will hold my peace, I will say nothing, and see whether I ghesse right, that Signior Carrasco's pains will bee to no purpose. Who answered, that as yet the businesse was brought to a good passe, and hee hoped for a happy successe: and so offering Don Antonio his service, hee took leave of him: And causing his Armour to hee packed upon a great hee Mule, at the instant hee got himself upon the Horse, with which hee entred the Lists; and the same day hee went out of the Citie homeward, where by the way nothing hapned to him worth the relating in this true Historie.

Don Antonio told the Vice-roy all that Carrasco said; at which hee received not much content, for in Don-Quixotes retirement, was theirs also that ever had notice of his mad pranks.

Six dayes was Don-Quixote in his bed, all muddy, sad & sorrowfull, and wayward, de∣scanting in his thoughts upon his ill fortune to bee vanquished. Sancho comforted him, and amongst other reasons, told him, Signior mine, cheer up, bee lively, if you can, give Heaven thanks, that though you came with a tumbling cast to the ground, yet you have never a rib broken; and since you know that sweet meat must have sowre sawce, & that there is not alwaies good cheer where there is a smoaking Chimney, cry, A fig for the Physician, since you need not his help in this disease. Let's home to our houses, and leave looking after these Adventures thorow Countries and places wee know not: and if you consider it well I am here the greatest loser though you be in the worst pickle. ••••though when I left to bee a Governour, left also my desires that way; yet left not my desire of being an Earle, which will never bee effected, if you leave to bee a King, by leaving the exercise of Chivalrie, and so my hopes are like to vanish into smoak.

Peace Sancho (said Don-Quixote) my retirement shall bee but for a yeer, and then Ile straight to my honourable Profession again, and I shall not want a Kingdome for my self, and some Earldome for thee.

God grant it (said Sancho) and let sinne bee deaf; for I have alwaies heard that a

good hope is better then a bad possession. In this discourse they were, when as Don-Antonio entred, with shews of great content, saying, My reward Signior Don-Quixote for the news I bring; for Don Gregorio and the Runnagate Spainiard with him, are upon the Wharf: the Wharf, quoth I? in the Vice-roys house, and will bee here presently.

Don-Quixote was somewhat revived, and said, Truly I was about to have said, I would it had been otherwise, that I might have gone into Barbary, and with the strength and vigor of this Arme, not only have given liberty to Don Gregorio, but to all the Christian Captives in Barbary.

But what say I, wretch that I am? Am not I vanquished? Am not I overthrown? Am not I hee that must not touch Armes this twelve moneths? What then doe I pro∣mising? Why doe I praise my self, since it were fitter for me to use a Distaff then a Sword? No more of that Sir (said Sancho) a man is a man, though hee have but a hose on his head. To day for thee, and to morrow for me: and for these thumps and encounters, there is no heed to bee taken; for hee that falls to day may rise to mor∣row, except it bee that hee mean to lye a-bed; I mean, to dismay and not take heart to fresh skirmishes: and therefore raise you your self now to welcome Don Gregorio; for me thinks the people of the house are in an uproar, and by this hee is come: and hee said true; for Don Gregorio having given the Vice-roy account of his going and com∣ming, desirous to see Ana Felix, he came with the Runnagate to Don Antonio's house: and though Don Gregorio, when they brought him out of Argiers were in a womans habit, yet by the way in the Boat he changed it with a Captive that came with him: but whatsoever habit hee had been in, hee would have seemed a personage worthy to bee coveted, sought after, and served; for hee was extraordinary comely, and about some seventeen or eighteen yeers of age. Ricote and his Daughter went out to welcome him, the Father with tears, and the Daughter with honesty.

They did not embrace each other; for where there is Love, there is never much loosenesse.

The two joynt Beauties of Don Gregorio and Ana Felix astonished all the by-standers.

Silence there spoke for the two Lovers, and their eyes were tongues that discovered their joyfull, but honest thoughts: The Runagate told them the means and slight hee had used to get Don Gregorio away. Don Gregorio told his dangers and straits hee was put to amongst the women with whom hee remained, not in tedions manner, but with much brevity; where hee shewed that his discretion was above his yeers.

Finally, Ricote paid and royally satisfied as well the Runagate, as those that had rowed with him. The Runagate was reduc't and re-encorporated with the Church, and of a rotten member became clean and sound by penance and repentance.

Some two dayes after the Vice-roy treated with Don Antonio, about means, that Ricote and his Daughter might remain in Spain, thinking it to bee no inconvenience, that so Christianly a Father and a Daughter should remain, and, to see too, so well in∣tentionated.

Don Antonio offered to negotiate it amongst other businesse, for which hee was to goe to the Court of necessitie, letting them know, that there by favour and bribes, many difficult matters are ended.

There is no trust in favours or bribes (said Ricote then present) for with the Grand Don Bernardine de Volasco, Counte Salazar, to whom his Majestie hath given in charge our expulsion, neither entreaties, promises, bribes or compassion can prevail; for though true it bee, that he mixeth his Justice with Mercy, yet because hee sees the whole body of our Nation is putrid and contaminated, hee useth rather cauterizing that burns it, then oyntment that softens it: and so with prudence, skill, diligence, and terror, hee hath born upon his strong shoulders, and brought to due execution, the waight of this great Machine; our industries, tricks, slights, and frauds, not being able to blinde his watchfull eyes of Argus, which wake continually, to the end that none of ours may remain; that like a hidden root, may in time sprout up, and scatter venemous fruit

throughout all Spain, now cleansed and free from the fear, into which their multitude put her, a heroick resolution of the Grand Philip the third, and unheard of wisedome, to have committed it to Don Bernardino and Velasco.

Well, when I come thither (said Don Antonio) I will use the best means I can, and let Heaven dispose what shall bee fittest. Don Gregorio shall goe with me, to comfort the affliction of his Parents for his absence: Ana Felix shall stay with my Wife here, or in a Monastery: and I know the Vice-roy will bee glad to have honest Ricote stay with him, till hee sees how I can negotiate.

The Vice-roy yeelded to all that was proposed: but Don Gregorio knowing what passed, said, that by no means hee could or would leave Ana Felix: but intending to see his friends, and to contrive how hee might return for her, at length hee agreed. Ana Felix remained with Don Antonio's Wife, and Ricote in the Vice-roy his house.

The time came that Don Antonio was to depart, and Don-Quixote and Sancho, which was some two dayes after; for Don-Quixotes fall would not suffer him to travell sooner. When Don Gregorio parted from Ana Felix, all was tears, swounding, sighs, and sobs. Ricote offered Don Gregorio a thousand Crowns: but hee refused them, and borrowed only five of Don Antonio, to pay him at the Court again: With this they both departed, and Don-Quixote and Sancho next (as hath been said) Don-Quixote dis∣armed, and Sancho on foot, because Dapple was laden with the Armour.

CHAP. LXVI.

That treats of what the Reader shall see, and he that hearkens heare.

AS they went out of Barselona, Don-Quixote beheld the place where he had his fall, and said, Hic Troja fuit, here was my ill fortune, and not my cowardize, that bereaved mee of my former gotten glorie: here Fortune used her turns and returns with me: here my exploits were darkned; and finally, my fortune fell, never to rise again. Which Sancho hearing, said, Signior mine, 'Tis as proper to great Spirits to bee patient in adversitie as jo••und in prosperity: and this I take from my self: for if when I my self being a Governour was merry; now that I am a poor Squire on foot, I am not sad: For I have heard say, that she you call up and down For∣tune, is a drunken longing woman, and withall blinde, and so shee sees not what shee doth; neither knows whom shee casts down, or whom shee raiseth up.

Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) thou art very Philosophicall; thou speak'st marvel∣lous wisely, I know not who hath taught thee. All I can tell thee, is, that in the world there is no such thing as Fortune; neither doe things that happen in it, good or evill, fall out by chance, but by the particular providence of Heaven: hence 'tis said, That every man is the Artificer of his own Fortune, which I have been of mine, but not with the discretion that might have been fitting; and so my rashnesse hath been requited: for I might have thought that it was not possible for Rozinante's weaknesse, to have resisted the powerfull greatnesse of the Knight of the white-Moon's Horse. In fine, I was hardy, I did what I could: down I came; and though I lost my honour, yet I lost not, nor can lose my virtue, to accomplish my promise. When I was a Knight Errant, bold and valiant, with my works and hands I ennobled my deeds: and now that I am a foot Squire, I will credit my works with the accomplishment of my promise: jog on then Sancho, and let us get home, there to passe the yeer of our Probationership: in which retirednesse we will recover new Virtue, to return to the never forgotten exercise of Armes.

Sir, said Sancho, 'Tis no great pleasure to travell great journeys on foot: let us leave your Armour hanged up upon some tree, instead of a hanged man: and then I may get upon Dapple, and rid as fast as you will: for to thinke that I will walke great journeys on foot, is but a folly.

Thou hast said well, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote: hang up my Armes, for a Tro∣phy; and at the bottome, or about them wee will carve in the Trees, that which in the Trophy of Roldans was written.

Let none these move. That his Valour will not With Roldan prove.

All this (mee thinkes, said Sancho) is precious: and if it were not that wee should want Rozinante by the way, 'twere excellent good hanging him up.

Well, neither hee, nor the Armour, quoth Don-Quixote, shall bee hanged up, that it may not bee said, So good a servant, an ungratefull Master.

You say marvelous well, quoth Sancho: for according to the opinion of wise men, the fault of the Asse must not be layd upon the Pack-saddle: & since in this last businesse you your selfe were in fault, punish your selfe, and let not your fury burst upon the hacked and bloody Armour, or the mildnesse of Rozinante, or the tendernesse of my feet, making me walke more then is fitting.

All that day and foure more they passed in these reasons and discourses: and the fift after, as they entred a Towne, they saw a great many of People at an Inn dore, that by reason of the heat were there shading themselves.

When Don-Quixote approached, a Husbandman cried aloud, Some of these Gen∣tlemen, that know not the parties, shall decide the businesse of our wager. That will I (said Don-Quixote) with all uprightnesse, if I may understand it. Well, good Sir, said the Husbandman, this is the matter; Here's one dwells in this towne so fatt, that hee weighs eleven Arrobaes, [Arroba, measure of twenty five pound waight,] and hee challenged another to run with him that weighes but five: the wager was to run one hundred paces with equall weight, and the Challenger being asked how thy should make equall weight, said, That the other that weighed but five Arrobas, should carry six of Iron, and so they should both weigh equally.

No, no, said Sancho, before Don-Quixote could answer, It concernes mee (that not long since left being a Governour and a Judge as all the world knowes) to decide doubts, and to sentence this businesse. Answer on Gods name, friend Sancho (said Don-Quixote) for I am not in the humor to play at Boyes-play, since I am so troubled and tormented in minde.

With this licence, Sancho said to the Husbandmen that were gaping round about him, expecting his sentence, Brothers, the fat mans demand is unreasonable, and hath no appearance of equity; for if hee that is challenged may choose his weapons, the o∣ther ought not to chuse such as may make his contrary unweldy and unable to bee Victor: and therefore my opinion is, that the fat Challenger doe pick, and cleanse, and With-draw, and Pollish, and Nibble, and pull away six Arrobaes of his flesh, some-where or other from his body (as hee thinkes best) and so having but five re∣maining, hee will bee made equall with his opposite, and so they may runne upon equall termes.

I vow by mee, said the Husbandman that heard Sancho's sentence, this Gentleman hath spoken blessedly, and sentenced like a Canon: but I warrant, the fat man will not lose an ounce of his flesh, much lesse six Arrobaes.

The best is, said another, not to runne, that the leane man straine not himselfe with too much weight, nor the fat man dis-flesh himselfe, and let halfe the wager bee spent in Wine, and let us carry these Gentlemen to the Taverne that hath the best, and give mee the cloke when it raines; [A good Wish, as if hee would have said, Let the burden light upon him.]

I thanke you Sir, said Don-Quixote; but I cannot stay a jot: for my sad thoughts make mee seeme unmannerly, and travell more then ordinarily. And so spurring Ro∣zinante, hee passed forward, leaving them to admire and note, as well his strange shape as his mans discretion; for such they judged Sancho. And another of the Husband∣men said; If the man bee so wise, what thinke yee of the Master? I hold a wager, that if they went to study at Salamanca, they would bee made Judges of the Court in a trice, for all is foppery to your studying: study hard, and with a little favour and good lucke, when a man least thinkes of it, hee shall have a Rod of Justice in his hand, or a Miter upon his head.

That night the Master and Man passed in the open field: and the next day being upon their way, they saw a foot-man comming towards them with a paire of Wallets about his necke, and a Javelin or Dart in his hand, just like a foot-man, who comming neere Don-Quixote, mended his pace, and beginning to runn, came and tooke him by the right thigh; for hee could reach no higher, and said with a great deale of glad∣nesse; Oh my Signior Don-Quixote de la Mancha, and how glad my Lord Duke will bee, when hee knowes you will returne to his Castle? for hee is there still with my La∣dy Duchesse.

I know you not, friend, said Don-Quixote, who you are, except you tell me.

I, Signior Don-Quixote, said the foot-man, am Tosilos the Dukes Lackey, that would not fight with your Worship about the marriage of Donna Rodriguez daughter.

God defend mee, said Don-Quixote, and is it possible? and are you hee, into whom the Enchanters my enemies transformed my contrary, to defraud mee of the honour of that combat?

Peace, Sir, quoth the Letter foot-post, there was no Enchantment, nor changing of my face, I was as much Tosilos the Lackey, when I went into the Lists, as when I came out: I thought to have married without fighting, because I liked the wench well; but it fell out otherwise. My Lord Duke caused mee to bee well banged, because I did not according as I was instructed before the battell was to begin: and the conclusion is, the wench is turned Nun, and Donna Rodriguez is gone backe againe into Castlle, and I am going now to Barselona to carry a Packet of Letters to the Vice-Roy which my Lord sends, him: and if it please you to drinke a sup (though it bee hot, yet pure) I have a little Gourd here full of the best Wine, with some slices of excellent Cheese, that shall serve for a provoker and Alarum to thirst if it bee asleepe.

I see the Vy, said Sancho, and set the rest of your courtesie, and therefore skink, honest Tosilos, in spight of all the Enchanters in the Indies.

Well Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, thou art the onely Glutton in the world, and the onely Asse alive, since thou canst not bee perswaded that this foot man is Enchan∣ted, and this Tosilos counterfeit; stay thou with him and fill thy selfe, Ile goe on faire and softly before, and expect thee.

The Lackey laughed, and unsheathed his Bottle, and drawing out his Bread and Cheese, hee and Sancho set upon the greene Grasse, and like good fellowes they cast Anchor upon all the Wallets provant so hungerly, that all being gone, they licked the very Letter-Packet because it smelt of Cheese.

Tosilos said to Sancho; Doubtlesse thy Master, friend Sancho, is a very mad-man. Hee owes no man nothing in that kinde, said Sancho; for if the money hee were to pay, bee in madnesse, hee hath enough to pay all men. I see it well enough, and tell him of it, but tis to no purpose; for hee is now even past recovery, since hee hath beene vanquished by the Knight of the White-Moone. Tosilos desired him to tell him what had befalne him: but Sancho answered, it was a discourtesie to let his Master stay for him; but at some other time when they met, hee should know: and so rising up after hee had well dusted himselfe, and shaked the crums from his beard, hee caught hold of Dapple before, and crying farewell, left Tosilos, and overtooke his Master that stayed for him under the shade of a tree.

CHAP. LXVII.

Of the resolution Don-Quixote had to turne Shepheard, and to lead a Country life, whilest the promise for his yeer was expired, with other accidents, truely, good, and savoury.

IF Don-Quixote were much troubled in minde before his fall, hee was so much more after it: He stood shading himselfe under the tree (as you heard) and there his thoughts set upon him, as Flies upon Hony; some tending to the disenchantment of Dulcinea, others to the life that he meant to lead in the time of his forced retirement.

Sancho now drew neere, and extolled the liberality of Tosilos.

Is it possible, Sancho, said Don-Quixote, that still thou thinkest that that was a true Lackey, and that thou hast forgotten too that Dulcinea was con∣verted and transformed into a Countrey-wench, and the Knight of the Looking-glasses, into the Bachelor Samson Carrasco: all these by the doings of Enchanters my enemies that persecute me? But tell me now, didst thou ask that Tosilos, what became of Altisi∣dora? did shee lament my absence, or hath shee forgotten her amorous passions, that when I was present troubled her?

I never thought on'•• (said Sancho) neyther had I leysure to aske after such fooleries. Body of mee, Sir, you are now in a humour of asking after other folkes thoughts, and amorous ones too.

Look thee, Sancho, there is a great deale of difference betwixt love and gratefull∣nesse; it may well bee that a Gentleman may not be amorous: but it cannot bee (speak∣ing in all rigour) that hee should be ungratefull: Altisidora in likelihood loved me very well, shee gave mee the three Night-caps thou wotest of, shee cried at my departure, cursed mee, reviled me, and without modesty railed publikely, all signes that she adored me; for the anger of Lovers often ends in maledictions. I could give her no comfort, nor no treasure, all I have being dedicated to Dulcinea, and the treasure of Knights Errant is like that of Fairies, false and apparant onely, and all I can doe, is but to re∣member her, and this I may doe without prejudice to Dulcinea, whom thou wrongest with thy slacknesse in whipping thy selfe, and in chastising that flesh of thine, that I wish I might see devoured by Wolves, that had rather preserve it selfe for Wormes, then for the remedy of that poore Lady.

Sir, said Sancho, if you will have the truth, I cannot perswade my selfe that the lashing of my posteriors can have any reference to the dis-enchanting of the Enchanted, which is as much as if you should say, If your head grive you, anoynt your knees, at least, I dare sweare, that in as many Histories as you have read of Knight Errantry, you never saw whipping dis-enchant any body: but howsoever, I will take it when I am in the humour, and when time serves Ile chastise my selfe.

God grant thou dost, said Don-Quixote, and heaven give thee grace to fall into the reckoning and obligation thou hast to help my Lady, who is thy Lady too, since thou art mine.

With this discourse they held on their way, till they came just to the place where the Bulls had over-runne them: and Don-Quixote called it to minde, and said to San∣cho; In this field wee met the brave shepheardesses, and the lusty Swaines, that would here have imitated and renued the Pastorall Arcadia: an invention as strange as wit∣ty; in imitation of which, if thou thinkest fit, Sancho, wee will turne Shepheards for the time that wee are to live retired: Ile buy Sheep, and all things fit for our Pastorall vocation, and calling my selfe by the name of the Shepheard Quixote, and thou the

Sheepheard Pansino, wee will walke up and down the Hills, thorow Woods and Medowes, singing and versifying, and drinking the liquid Cristall of the fountaines sometimes out of the cleere Springs, and then out of the swift running Rivers; The Oakes shall afford us plentifull of their most sweet fruit, and the Bodies of hardest, Corke-trees shall bee our seates, the Willowes shall give us shade, the Roses their Perfume, and the wide Meadowes Carpets of a thousand Flourished colours: the Ayre shall give us a free and pure breath: the Moon and Starres in spight of Nights darknesse shall give us light, our Songs shall afford us delight, and our wailing Mirth, Apollo verses, and Love-conceits, with which wee may bee eternallized and famous, not onely in this present Age, but Ages to come also. By ten, quoth Sancho, this kind of life is very sutable to my desires, and I beleeve the Bachelor Samson and Master Ni∣cholas the Barber will no sooner have seene it, but they will turn Sheepheards with us: and pray God the Vicar have not a minde to enter into the sheep-coat too, for hee is a merry Lad and jolly. Thou hast said very well, Sancho, said Don-Quixote, and the Bache∣lor Samson Carrasco, if so bee hee enter the Pastorall lap (as doubtlesse hee will) may call himselfe the Sheepheard Samsonmo, or Carrascon. Master Nicholas may call himself Niculoso, as the ancient Boscan called himselfe, Nemoroso; [Alluding to the word Bosque for a Wood.] I know not what name wee should bestow upon the Vicar, except it were some derivative from his own, calling him the Sheepheard Curiambro. The Sheep∣heardesses on whom wee must bee enamoured, wee may chuse their names as amongst Peares: and since my Ladies name serves as well for a Sheepheardesse as for a Princesse, I need not trouble my selfe to get her another better, give thou thine what name thou wilt.

Mine, said Sancho, shall have no other name but Teresona, which will fit her fatnesse well, and it is taken from her Christian name, which is Teresa, and the rather I cele∣brating her in my verses, doe discover my chaste thoughts, since I seeke not in other mens houses better bread then is made of Wheat: 'twere not fit that the Vicar had his sheepheardesse, to give good example, but if the Bachelor will have any, 'tis in his owne free choice.

Lord blesse mee, Sancho, said Don-Quixote, and what a life shall wee have on 't? What a world of Horne-pipes, and Zamora Bag-pipes shall wee heare? What Tabour∣ing shall wee have? What janggling of Bells and playing on the Rebocke? And if to these different Musicks wee have the Albogne too, wee shall have all kinde of pastorall instruments.

What is Albogne (quoth Sancho?) It is, said Don-Quixote, a certaine plate made like a Candlesticke, and being hollow, gives, if not a very pleasing or harmonious sound, yet it displeaseth not altogether, and agrees well with the rusticke Tabor and Bag-pipe; and this word Albogne is Moorish, as all those in our Castilian tongue are, that begin with Al, to wit, Almoasa, Almorzar, Alhombra, Alguazil, Alucena, Al∣mazon, Alsancia and the like, with some few more; and our language hath onely three Moorish words that end in I, which are Borcegni, Zaguicami, and Meravedi: Albeli and Alfaqui are as well knowne to bee Arabick by their beginning with Al, as their ending in I.

This I have told thee by the way, the word Albogne having brought it into my head, and one maine help we shall have for the perfection of this calling, that I, thou knowest, am somewhat Poeticall, and the Bachelor Samson Carrasco is a most exquisit one, for the Vicar I say nothing, but I lay a wager hee hath his smacke, and so hath Master Nico∣las too: for all these, or the most of them play upon a Gittern, and are Rimers, I will complain of absence: thou shalt praise thy selfe for a constant Lover, the Sheepheard Carrascon shell mourn for being disdain'd, and let the Vicar Curiambro doe what hee pleaseth, and so there is no more to bee desired.

To which (said Sancho) Sir, I am so unlucky, that I feare I shall not see the day, in which I may see my selfe in that happy life: oh what neat Spoones shall I make when I am Sheepheard! What Hodg-potches and Creame! What Garlands and other pastorall trumperies? that though they get mee not a fame of being wise, ye•• they shall,

that I am witty. My little Daughter Sanchica shall bring our dinner to the Flock: but soft, she is handsome, and you have Sheepheards more Knaves then Fooles, and I would not have her come for Wooll, and returne shorn: and your loose desires are as incident to the fields as to Citties, and as well in Sheepheards Cotages, as Princes Palaces, and the cause being removed, the sin will bee saved, and the heart dreames not of what the eye sees not, and better a fair pair of Heels, then die at the Gallows.

No more Proverbs, Sancho, (said Don-Quixote) since each of these is enough to make us know thy meaning, and I have often advised thee, not to bee so prodigall of thy Proverbs, but more sparing: but 'tis in vaine to bid thee; for the more thou art bid, the more thou wilt doe it. Mee thinkes, Sir, said Sancho, you are like what is said, that the Frying-pan, said to the Kettle, Avant, Blacke-browes; you reprehend mee for speaking of Proverbs, and you thred up yours by two and two.

Look you, Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, I use mine to purpose, and when I speak them, they fit as well as a little Ring to the Finger: but thou bringest in thine so by head and shoulders, that thou rather draggest then guidest them: and if I forget not, I told thee heretofore, that Proverbs are briefe sentences, drawne from the experience and speculation of our An••ient Sages, and a Proverb ill applyed, is rather a foppery then a sentence: but leave we this now; and since night comes on us, let's retire a lit∣tle out of the High-way, where wee will passe this night, and God knowes what may befall us to Morrow. So they retired, and made a short supper, much against Sancho's will, who now began to thinke of the hard life of Knight Errantry in Woods and Mountaines, especially calling to his remembrance, the Castles and houses as well of Don Diego de Miranda, and where the rich Camacho's marriage was•• and likewise Don Antonio Moreno's: but hee considered with himselfe, that nothing could last ever: and so he slept away the rest of that night, which his Master passed watching.

CHAP. LXVIII.

Of the Bristled Adventure that befell Don-Quixote.

THe night was somewhat darke, though the Moon were up, but shee was obscured; for sometimes my Lady Diana goes to walke with the Antipodes, and leaves the Mountaines black, and the Vallies darkened. Don-Quixote complied with Nature, having slept his first sleep, hee broke off his second, contrary to Sancho, for his lasted from night till morning: a ••••gne of his good complexion, and few cares. These kept Don-Quixote waking in such sort, that hee awa∣kned. Sancho, and said to him;

I wonder, Sancho, at thy free condition: I imagine thou art made of Marble, or of hard Brasse, which neitheir moves, or hath any feeling. I wake, when thou sleepest; I weepe, when thou singest; I am ready to faint with fasting, when thou art lazy, and unweidly with pure cramming in: 'twere the part of good Servants, to have a fellow∣feeling of their Masters griefs, if it were but for decency: behold this nights bright∣nesse, and the solitude wee are in, which invites us to intermingle some watching with sleepe: rise by thy life, and get thee a little apart, and with a good courage and thank∣full cheer, give thy self three or four hundreth lashes upon account, for Dulcinea's disen∣chanting: and this I intreat of thee; for I will not now, as heretofore, come to handy∣gripes with thee; for I know, thou hast shrewd Clutches: and after thou hast done, wee will passe the rest of the night; I, chanting my absence, and thou thy constancy, beginning from henceforward our Pastorall exercise, which wee are to keep in our Village.

Sir (said Sancho) I am of no Religious Order, that I should rise out of the midest of my sleep to discipline my self; neither doe I think it possible, that from the pain of my whipping, I may proceed to Musick. Pray Sir let me sleep, and doe not presse me so to this whipping; for you will make me vow never to touch so much as a haire of my coat, much lesse of my flesh. O hard heart! oh ungodly Squire! oh ill given bread! and favours ill placed which I bestowed, and thought to have more and more conferred upon thee: By me thou wast a Governour; and from mee thou wast in good possi∣bilitie of being an Earl, or having some equivalent Title, and the accomplishment should not have failed when this our yeer should end: for I post tenebras spero lucem. I under∣stand not that (said Sancho) only I know that whilest I am sleeping, I neither fear nor hope, have neither pain nor pleasure: and well fare him that invented sleep, a cloke that covers all humane thoughts; the food, that slakes hunger; the water, that q••ench∣eth thirst; and the fire, that warmeth cold; the cold that tempers heat; and fi∣nally, a current coyne with which all things are bought, a ballance and weight that equalls the King to the Sheepheard; the fool to the wise man: only one thing (as I have heard) sleep hath ill, which is, that it is like death, in that between a man asleep and a dead man, there is little difference.

I have never Sancho (said Don-Quixote) heard thee speak more elegantly then now; whereby I perceive, the Proverb thou often ••sest is true; You may know the man by the conversation hee keeps. Gods me, Master mine, I am not only hee now that threds on Proverbs: and they come freer from you (me thinks) and betwixt yours and mine, there is this only difference, that yours are fitly applyed, and mine unseaso∣nably.

In this discourse they were, when they perceived a deaf noyse thorow all the vallies. Don-Quixote stood up and laid hand to his sword, and Sancho squatted under D••pple, and clapt the bundle of Armour, & his As••es Pack-saddle on each side of him, as fearfull as his Master was outragious: still the noyse increast and drew neerer the two timerous persons, at least one; for the others valour is sufficiently known.

The businesse was, That certain fellows drave some six hundred Swine to a Fayre to sell, with whom they travelled by night; and the noyse they made with their grunting and squeaking, was so great, that it deased Don-Quixote and Sancho's eares, that never marked what it might bee. It fell out that the goodly grunting Herd were all in a troop together, and without respect to Don-Quixote or Sancho's person, they trampled over them both, spoyling Sancho's Trenches, and overthrowing not only Don-Quixote, but Rozinan••e also: the fury of the sodain comming of these unclean beasts made a con∣fusion, and laid on ground the Pack-saddle, Armour, Rozinante, Sancho, and Don••Quixote. Sancho rose as well as hee could, and desired his Masters sword, telling him, hee would kill half a dozen of those unmannerly Hoggs; for now hee knew them to bee so.

Don-Quixote said, Let them alone friend, for this affront is a penalty for my fault, and a just punishment it is from Heaven, that Dogs and Wasps ea•• a vanquisht Knight Errant, and that Swine trample over him.

And it is a punishment of Heaven too, belike (said Sancho) that Flies doe bite the Squires of vanquished Knights, that Li••e eat them, and Hunger close with them. If we Squires were Sonnes, or neer Kinsmen to the Knights wee serve, 'twere not much wee were partakers with them, even to the fourth generation; but what have the Panca's to doe with the Quixotes? Well; yet let's goe fit our selves again, and sleep the rest of the night, and 'twill bee day, and wee shall have better luck.

Sleep thou Sancho (said Don-Quixote) for thou wast born to sleep, and I was borne to wake: betwixt this and day-break, I will give reins to my thoughts, and vent them out in some Madrigall, that without thy knowledge I composed this night.

Me thinks (said Sancho) that thoughts that give way to verses, are not very trouble∣some: and therefore versifie you as much as you list, and Ile sleep as much as I can: and so taking up as much of the ground as hee would, hee crowched up together and slept liberally: Debts, nor suretiship, nor any other affliction disturbing him.

Don-Quixote leaning to the body of a Beech or Cork-tree (for Cid Hamete Benen∣geli distinguisheth not what Tree it was) to the Musick of his own sighs, sung as sol∣loweth: Love; when I think, &c. Each of which verses were accompanied with many sighs, and not sew tears, fit for a vanquisht Knight, and one who had his heart pierc't thorow with grief, and tormented with the absence of his Dulcinea.

Now day came on, and Sir Sol with his beams played in Sancho's eyes; who awoke and lazed himself, shaking and stretching out his lither limbs; hee beheld the havock the Swine had made in his Sumpterie, and hee cursed and re-cursed the Herd.

Finally, both of them returned to their commenced Journey; and toward Sun-set, they saw some ten Horse-men comming toward them, and four or five foot-men. Don•• Quixote was agast at heart, and Sancho shivered, for the troop drew neerer to them, who had their Spears and Shields all in war like array.

Don-Quixote turned to Sancho, and said: If, Sancho, it were lawfull for me to ex∣ercise Armes, and that my promise had not bound my hands, I should think this were an Adventure of Cake-bread: but perhaps it may bee otherwise then wee think for.

By this the Horse men came, and lifting up their Launces without a word speaking, they compassed in Don-Quixote before and behinde; one of the foot-men threatning him with death, and clapping his finger to his mouth, in signe he should not cry out; and so hee laid hold on Rozinantes Bridle, and led him out of the way: and the rest of the foot-men catching Sancho's Dapple, all of them most silently followed after those that carried Don-Quixote; who twice or thrice would have asked, whither they carried? and what they would with him? But hee no sooner began to move his lips, when they were ready to close them with their Launces points: And the same hapned to Sancho, when one of the foot-men pricked him with a Goad, hee offering but to speak; and Dapple they punched too, as if hee would have spoken: It now began to grow dark, so they mended their pace; the two prisoners fears increased; especially when they might hear that sometimetimes they were cried out on, Oa, on, yee Troclodites; peace, yee barbarous Slaves; revenge, yee Anthropophagi; complain not, yee S••ythians; open not your eyes, yee murderous Polyphemans, yee Butcherous Lyons; and other such names as these, with which they tormented the ears of the lamentable Knight and Squire.

Sancho said within himself, Wee Tortelites? Wee Barbers Slaves? Wee Popin∣geyes? Wee little Bitches to whom they cry Hist, Hist? [Sancho's mistakes:] I doe not like these names, this winde winnows no Corne, all our ill comes together, like a whip to a Dog; and I would to God this Adventure might end no worse.

Don-Quixote was embeseld; neither in all his discourse could hee finde what re∣proachfull names those should bee, that were put upon him, whereby hee plainly per∣ceived there was no good to bee hoped for; but on the contrary, much evill.

Within an hour of night they came the to Castle; which Don-Quixote well perceived to be the Dukes, where but a while before they had been. Now God defend (said he) as soon as hee knew the place: what have wee here? Why in this house all is courtesie and good usage: but for the vanquished, all goes from good to bad, and from bad to worse.

They entred the chief Court of the Castle, and they saw it so dressed and ordered, that their admiration increased, and their fear redoubled; as you shall see in the fol∣lowing Chapter.

CHAP. LXIX.

Of the newest and strangest Adventure that in all the course of this Hi∣story befell Don-Quixote.

THe Horsemen all alighted, and the Foot-men taking Don-Quixote and Sancho forcibly in their Armes, they set them in the Court, where round about were burning a hundred Torches in their Ves∣sels of purpose; and about the Turrets above five hundred lights; so that in spight of dark night, they might there see day.

In the midest of the Court there was a Hearse raised some two yards from the ground, covered with a Cloth of State of black Velvet, and round about it there burned a hundred Virgin Wax Candles in silver Candle-sticks; on the top of it there lay a fair Damzell that shewed to bee dead, that with her beauty made death her self seem faire: her head was laid upon a Pillow-bear of Cloth of gold, crowned with a Garland, woven with divers odo∣riferous Flowers: her hands was crosted upon her brest, and betwixt them was a bough of flourishing yellow Palme.

On one side of the Court there was a kinde of Theater set up, and two personages in their Chaires, who with their Crowns on their heads and Scepters in their hands, seemed to bee eyther reall or feigned Kings: at the side of this Theater where they went up by steps there were two other Chaires, where they that brought the prisoners set Don-Quixote and Sancho; and all this with silence, and signes to them that they should bee silent too: but without that they held their peace; for the admiration of what they there saw, tyed their tongues: After this two other principall personages came up, whom Don-Quixote straight knew to bee the Duke and Duchesse, his Host and Hostess, who sate down in two rich Chairs, neer the two seeming Kings. Whom would not this admire? especially having seen that the body upon the Hearse was the fair Altisidora? When the Duke and Duchesse mounted, Don Quixote and Sancho bowed to them, and the Dukes did the like, nodding their heads a little: And now an Officer entred athwart them; and comming to Sancho, clapt a Coat of black Buckram on him, all painted with flames of fire: and taking his Cap off, hee set a Miter on his head, just such a one as the Inquisition causes to bee set upon Heretiques, and bade him in his eare, hee should not unsow his lips, for they would clap a gagg in his mouth, or kill him.

Sancho beheld himself all over, and saw himself burning in flames; but since they burned not indeed, hee cared not a rush for them: hee took off his Miter and saw it painted with Devills; hee put it on again, and said within himself: Well, yet neither the one burns nor the other carries me away.

Don-Quixote beheld him also, and though fear suspended his sences, hee could not but laugh at Sancho's Picture: and now from under the Hearse there seemed to sound a low and pleasant sound of Flutes, which being un-interrupted by any mans voyce (for there it seemed silence it self kept silence) was soft and amorous.

Straight there appeared suddainly on the Pillow of the Hearse, a Carkeise of a goodly Youth clad like a Romane, who to the sound of a Harp himself plaid on, with a most sweet and cleer voyce, sung these two Stanza's following; [Which I likewise omit, as being basely made on purpose, and so not worth the translation.] Enough, said one of the two that seemed to bee Kings; Enough, divine singer: for it were to proceed in insi∣nitum to paint unto us the misfortunes and graces of the peerlesse Altisidora, not dead, as the simple world surmizeth; but living in the tongues of Fame, and in the penance that Sancho is to passe, to return her to the lost fight: and therefore thou, oh Rada∣manthus! that judgest with me in the darksome Caves of Dis, since thou knowest all that is determining in the inscrutable Fates, touching the restoring of this Damzel, tell

and declare it forthwith, that the happinesse wee expect from her returne, may not be deferred.

Scarce had Judge Minos said this, when Radamanthus standing up, said, Goe too, Ministers of this house, high and low, great and small, come one after another, and seal Sancho's Chin with four and twenty Tuckes, twelve Pinches, and with Pins prick his Armes and Buttocks six times, in which Altisidora's health consists.

When Sancho Panca heard this, hee broke off silence, and said, I vow, you shall as soone Tuck mee, or handle my face, as make mee turne Moor. Body of mee, what hath the handling my face to doe with this Damozells Resurrection? The old Wo∣man tasted the Spinage, &c. Dulcinea is enchanted, and I must bee whipped to dis∣enchant her: Altisidora dyes of some sicknesse it pleased God to send her; and her raising must bee with foure and twenty Tucks given mee, and with grinding my body with Pins thrusts, and Pinching my Armes black and Blue: away with your tricks to some other, I am an old Dogg, and there's no Histing to mee.

Thou dyest, quoth Radamanthus aloud: ••elent, thou Tyger, humble thy selfe proud Nembroth, suffer and bee silent, since no impossibilities are required of thee; and stand not upon difficulties in this businesse: thou shalt bee Tuckt, and see thy selfe grinded, thou shalt grone with Pinching. Goe too, I say, Ministers, fulfill my command; if not, as I am honest man, you shall rue the time that ever you were born.

Now there came thorow the Court, six like old Waiting-women, one after ano∣ther in Procession; foure with Spectacles, and all with their right hands lifted aloft, with foure fingers breadths of their wrists discovered, to make their hands seeme larger (as the fashion is.)

No sooner had Sancho seene them, when bellowing like a Bull, hee said, Well might I suffer all the world else to handle mee, but that Waiting-women touch mee, I will never consent: Let um Cat-scratch my face, as my Master was served in this Castle: let um thrust mee thorow with Bodkin-pointed Daggers: let um pull off my flesh with hot burning Pincers, and I will beareit patiently and serve these Nobles: but that Waiting-women touch me let the Divell take me, I will not consent.

Don-Quixote then interrupted him saying, Have patience soone: and please these Lordings, and thanke God, that hee hath given such vitrue to thy person; that with the Ma••tyrdome of it thou mayst disenchant the enchanted, and raise up the dead!

And now the Waiting-women drew neere Sancho; who being wonne and per∣swaded, settled in his Chaire, offered his face and Chin to the first that came, who gave him a well-sealed Tuck, and so made him a courtsie. Lesse courtsie, and lesse Slabber∣sauces, good Mistris Mumpsimus, quoth Sancho: for, I protest your hands smell of Vinegar.

At length all the Waiting-women sealed him, and others Pinched him: but that which hee could not suffer, was the Pins-pricking; and therefore hee rose out of his Chaire very moody, and laying hold of a lighted Torch that was neere him, hee ran after the women, and his executioners, saying, Avant, infernall Ministers, for I am not made of Brasse, not to be sensible of such extraordinary martyrdome.

By this Altisidora that was weary with lying so long upon her backe, turned on one side: which when the by-standers saw, all of them cryed out joyntly, Altisidora lives, Altisidora lives,

Radamanthus commanded Sancho to lay aside his choller, since now his intent was obtained.

And as Don-Quixote saw Altisidora stirre, he went to kneel down to Sancho, saying, Sonne of my entrailes; 'Tis now high time, that thou give thy selfe some of the lashes to which thou art obliged, for the disenchanting of Dulcinea.

Now, I say, is the time, wherein thy virtue may be seasoned, and thou mayst with efficacy effect the good that is expected from thee.

To which (quoth Sancho) Heida: this is lowre upon sowre: 'twere good after these Pinchings, Tucks and Pins-prickings, that lashes should follow; there's no more to be done, but even take a good Stone, and tye it to my Neck, and cast mee into a Well: for

which I should not grieve much; if so bee that to cure other folks ills, I must bee the Pack-horse; let me alone, if not, I shall marre all: And now Altisidora sate up in the Hearse, and the Ho-boyes, accompanied with Flutes and Voyces, began to sound, and all cryed out, Live Altisidora, Altisidora live. The Dukes rose up, and with them Minos and Radamanthus, and altogether with Don-Quixote and Sancho went to re∣ceive Altisidora, and to help her out of the Herse, who feigning a kinde of dismaying, bowed down to her Lords, and to the two Kings, and looking askonce on Don-Quixote said: God pardon thee, discourteous Knight, since by thy cruelty I have remained in another world, me thinks at least this thousand yeers: And thee I thank, the most com∣passionate Squire in the world; I thank thee for the life I possesse: And now dispose of six of my Smocks, which I give thee to make six shirts; and if they be not all whole, yet they are clean at least.

Sancho kissed her hands with his Miter off and his knees on the ground, and the Duke commanded they should return him his Cap, and instead of his Gown with the flames, they should return him his Gaberdine. Sancho desired the Duke, that they would leave him both, which hee would carry into his Country, in memory of that unheard of suc∣cesse. The Duchesse answered they should, and that hee knew how much shee was his friend. The Duke commanded all to avoid the Court, and to retire to their lodgings, and that Don-Quixote and Sancho should bee carried to theirs they knew of old.

CHAP. LXX.

Of divers rare things, which serve for the better illustration and cleering of this History.

SANCHO slept that night upon a Quilt, and in Don-Quixotes own Chamber which he would faine have avoided, had it been in his power; for hee knew full well that his Master would hardly let him sleep all night, by reason of the many questions hee would demand of him, to which hee must of necessity make answer. Now was hee in no good humour to talk much; for hee felt yet the smart of his fore-passed torments, which were an hindrance to his tongue: And without doubt hee would rather have layn alone in any poor Shed, then with company in that goodly house: So true was his fear, and so certain his doubt, as hee was scarce laid in his Bed, but his Master began this dis∣course unto him.

Sancho, what thinkest thou of this nights successe? Needs must a man confesse that great and powerfull is the force of disdain, since as thou thy self hast seen with thine own eyes Altisidora had surely dyed, & that by no other arrows, nor by any other sword, nor other instrument of War, no, nor by the force of poyson, but by the apprehension of the churlish rigor, and the disdain wherewith I have ever used her.

Shee might (answerrd Sancho) have died in good time, and at her choyse and plea∣sure, so shee would have let me alone in mine own house, since I was never the cause that shee became a Lover, nor did I ever in all my life scorn or disdain her. But I wot not, nor can I imagine how it may bee, that the health or welfare of Altisidora, a Gentlewoman more fantasticall then discreet, hath any reflection (as I have said here∣tofore) upon the afflictions of Sancho Panca. Now I plainly and distinctly perceive, that there bee both Enchanters and Enchantments in the world, from whom God de∣liver me, since I cannot well deliver my self from them: and therewithall I intreat you to let me sleep; and except you will have mee throw my self out of a window, ask me no more questions.

Sleep my friend Sancho (replyed Don-Quixote) unlesse the nipping scoffs and bitter frumps which thou hast received will not permit thee so to doe.

There is no grief (answered Sancho) comparable unto the affront of scoffing frumps, and so much the more sensible am I of such affronts, as that I have received them by old women; a mischief take them: I beseech you once more that you will suffer me to sleep, since that sleep is an easing of all miseries. Bee it as thou sayest (quoth Don-Quixote) and God accompanie thee.

So they both fell a-sleep, aud whilest they slept, Cid Hamete, Authour of this great History, would needs write and relate, why the Duke and the Duchesse had caused this monument to bee built and invented, all that you have seen above.

Hee writes then, That the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, having not forgotten what had hapned to him, at what time, under the name of the Knight of the Looking-glasses, hee was vanquished and overthrown by Don-Quixote; and therewithall how all his designs and purposes were vanished into smoak; yet neverthelesse would hee (hoping for bet∣ter successe) attempt the combat again: Therefore is it, that being informed by the Page who brought the Letter, and with it the present unto Teresa Panca, the Wife of Sancho, from the place where Don-Quixote made his residence, hee recovered new Arms and a Horse.

Then caused hee the white Moon to bee painted in his Shield: A Mulet carried all this equipage, and a Lob or Swain led the same, and not Thomas Ceciall his ancient Esquire, for fear hee should bee known of Sancho and Don-Quixote.

Hee so well bestirred himself in his journies, that at last hee came to the Dukes Castle, who taught him the way or tract that Don-Quixote had taken, and how hee had a great desire to bee present at the Tiltings and Turnaments of Saragosa. Hee likewise related unto him the gullings or gudgeons that hee had given him, with the invention of Dul∣cinea's dis-enchantment, which should bee accomplished at the charges of Sancho's but∣tocks. In summe, hee understood from him the fob or jest that Sancho had used to∣ward his Master, in making him beleeve that Dulcinea was Enchanted and transformed into a Country Lasse, and how the Duchesse his Wife had given Sancho to understand, that himself was the man that received himself, for so much as Dulcinea was verily En∣chanted.

The Bachelour could not contain himself from laughing, and therewithall to bee amazed, considering the quaint subtilty, and plain simplicity of Sancho, equall unto the extream folly of Don-Quixote. The Duke desired him, that if hee met with him, and either vanquished him or not, hee would bee pleased to come that way again, to the end hee might advertise him of it.

The Bachelor promised him to doe it, and so took his leave of the Duke, to goe and see whether hee could finde Don-Quixote. Hee found him not at Saragosa, but went farther: and then befell him what you have already heard.

Hee came afterward to the Dukes Castle, and there made report of all, together with the conditions of the Combat: Hee moreover told them, that Don-Quixote came again to accomplish, as a perfect Knight Errant, the promise which he had made, to re∣tire himself to his own Village, and there to abide the full space of one whole yeer. And that during the said time, it might peradventure bee brought to passe (said the Bachelor) that hee might bee cured of his folly. That hee never had other intention, and that for this only cause hee had thus disguised himself; for it was great pitty that a Gen∣tleman, so well skilled and versed in all things as Don-Quixote was, should become a foole.

With that hee took leave of the Duke, and went to his Burrough, where hee staid for Don-Quixote, who was comming after him. Whereupon the Duke took occasion to put this trick upon him; for hee took a wondrous pleasure of what succeeded unto Sancho and Don-Quixote: and therefore hee caused all the approaches and high-wayes about his Castle to bee laid and watched, especially where hee imagined our Knight might come. And for the said cause he placed divers of his servants, as well on foot as on horse∣back, to the end that if they met with him, willed he or nilled he, they should bring him to the Castle

Now it fortuned that they met with him, and forthwith they gave the Duke know∣ledge of it, who was already resolved what hee would doe. As soon then as hee knew of his comming, hee caused all the Torches and lights that were in the Court to bee lighted, and Altisidora to bee placed upon the Tombe with all the preparation that you have seen before; and that so lively represented, as one would have found very little difference between the truth and that which was counterfeit.

Cid Hamete goeth yet farther: for hee saith, that hee asturedly beleeveth, that the mockers were as foolish as the mocked: and that there wanted not two inches of the Dukes and Duchesses utter privation of common understanding, since they took so much pains to mock two fools, whereof the one was then sound asleep; and the other broad awake, transported with his raving and ranging thoughts.

In the mean time the day surprized them, and they desired to rise; for the sluggish feathers were never pleasing unto Don-Quixote, were hee conquered or conqueror.

Altisidora, who, as Don-Quixote, supposed, being risen from death to life, confor∣ming her self to her Master and Mistrisses humour, being crowned with the very same Garland which shee had in the tombe, attired in a loose Gown of white Ta••••ata, all beset with flowres of gold; her haire loose and dangling down her shoulders, leaning upon a staff of fine Ebony wood, shee entred into Don-Quixotes Chamber, who so soon as hee saw her, was so amazed and confounded at her presence, as hee shrunk down into his Bed, all covered with the clothes and hid with the sheets and counterpoint, that hee neither spake word, nor used any manner of gesture towards her, as might witnesse that hee desired to shew her any courtesie.

Altisidora sat down in a chaire, which was neer unto Don-Quixote's head, and af∣ter fetching a deep deep sigh, with a low sweet and milde voyce, shee thus bespake him.

Sir Don Quixote, whensoever women of quality, or maidens of discretion trample their honour under their feet, and give their tongue free liberty and scope to exceed the bounds of conveniency or modesty, publishing the secreets lurking in their hearts, they then shall finde themselves brought to extream misery and distresse.

Now am I one of those pressed, vanquished, and also enamoured: All which not∣withstanding I suffer patiently, and continue honest. So that having been so, too much silence was the cause that my soul went out of my body, and I lost my life. It is now two daies since, that the consideration and remembrance of the rigor, (which thou oh more stony-minded then any marble, and inexorable Knight, so to reject my plaints) which you have used towards me, brought me to my lives end, or at least I have been deemed and taken for dead by all those that saw me. And had it not been that Love, who taking pitty of me, deposed my recovery among the grievous torments of this good Esquire, I should for ever have remained in the other world. Love might well depose it (replyed Sancho) in those of my Asse, and I would have been very glad of it: But tell me I pray you good Damzel, even as Heaven may provide you of another more kind loving-Lover then my Master, what is it that you have seen in the other world? What is there in Hell that he who dyeth desperate must necessarily undergoe? I must needs (quoth Altisi∣dora) tell you the plain truth of all. So it is, that I was not wholly or thorowly dead, since I came not into Hell: for had I once been therein, there is no question, but I had never been able to come out of it at my pleasure.

True it is, that I came even unto the gate thereof, where I met with a dozen of De∣vils, who in their hosen and doublets were playing at Tennis-ball; they did weare Falling-bands set with peaks of Flemmish bone-lace, with Cuffs of the very same, so deep, as they appeared four good inches longer then the arme, to the end their hands might seem the greater: Their Battledors or Rackets were of fire. But that which made me wonder most, was, that they used Books in stead of Balls, which Books were full stuft with winde and stifning, a thing both wondrous and newly-strange, yet did not that so much astonie me: for as it is proper unto those, that win at any Game, to re∣joyce and bee glad; whereas those that lose, are ever sad and discontent: there all grum∣bled, chafed, fretted, and bitterly cursed one another.

That's no wonder (quoth Sancho) since the Divels, whether they play, or play not; whether they winn, or winn not at that play, they can never be content.

Belike it is even so (replyed Altisidora:) but there is also another thing, which likewise bred some amazement in mee; that is to say, brought mee into admiration. Which is, that the Ball, that was but once tossed or strucken, could not serve another time, so that at every stroke, they were forced to change Books whether they were old or new which was a marvellous thing to behold.

Now it hapned, that they gave so violent a stroake unto a moderne Booke, and very fairely bound, that it made the very Guts to fly out of it, and scattered the Leaves there∣of up and down.

Then said one Divell unto another, I prethee looke what that Booke treateth of. It is (answed the other Divell) the Second part of the History of Don-Quixote de la Mancha, not composed by Cid Hamete, it's first Authour, but by an Aragonis, who braggeth to bee born at Tordesillas. Now fye upon it (quoth the other Divell) out of my sight with it, and let it bee cast into the very lowest pit of Hell, so deep as mine eyes may never see it againe. But why (said the other Divell?) is it so bad a Booke? It is so vile a Booke (replied the first Divell) that had I my selfe expressely composed it, I could never have encountred worse.

In the meane time they followed on their game, tossing other Bookes to and fro but having heard the name of Don-Q••ixote, hee whom I love so passionately, I have laboured to engrave that vision in my memory.

Now without doubt then (said Don-Quixote) it was a right vision: for, there is no other Man of that name in the whole World but my selfe: And that History doth already goe from Hand to hand thorow all parts of the Universe: and yet stayes in no place, for so much as every one will have a kicke at it. Now I have not beene angry or vexed, when I have heard that I wander up and downe like a fantasticke bo∣dy, amidst the Pitchy shades of Hell, and not in the light of the earth; since I am not the man that History speaketh of. If it bee true and faithfully compiled, it will live many ages; but if it be nothing worth it will dye even at it's birth.

Altisidora would have continued her plaints, accusing Don-Quixote of rigour and unkindnes••e; but hee said thus unto her, Madame, I have often told you, that I am very angry, that you have settled your thoughts on mee; since you can draw nothing from mee but bare thanks, and no remedy at all. I was onely borne for Dulcinea of Toboso, and to her onely have the Destinies (if there bee any) wholly dedicated mee. To thinke, that any other beauty can possesse or usurpe the place, which shee pos∣sesseth in my soule, were to beleeve an impossibility. And this should suffice to dis∣abuse you, and to make you to retire your selfe within the bounds of your honesty, since no creature is tyde unto impossibilities.

Altisidora hearing these words, made a semblance to bee very angry: so that, as it were in a great anger, shee thus bespake him, I sweare by the Prince of the Mumps, the soul of a Morter, and stone of a Date; more obstinate and hard-hearted, thena rude and base Pesant when one sueth unto him, and when hee addresseth his levell to the Butt or Marke: if I take you in hand, I will plucke your very Eyes out of your head.

Doe you haply suppose, Sir vanquished, and Don Knockt downe with Bats and Cudgels, that I would have dyed for you? No, no, Sir, whatsoever you have seene this night, hath been nothing but a fiction, or thing fained. I am not a Maiden, that would suffer so much as the least-least pain at the tip of my Nailes for such a Camell as you are; much lesse that I would dye for such a grosse Animall.

I beleeve it well (quoth Sancho then) for all these Lovers deaths are but to cause sport and laughter. Well may they say, that they dye: but that they will hasten their deaths, Iudas may beleeve it if hee list.

As they were in these discourses, the Musician and Poet, who had sung the fore-going Stanza's, entred into the Chamber, and making a very low reverence unto Don-Quixote, hee thus said unto him, Sir, Knight, I beseech you to hold mee in the

number of your humblest servants. I have long since been most affectionate un∣to you, as well by reason of your farre-bruited renown, as for your high-raised fears of Armes.

Tell me (answered Don-Quixote) who you are, that my courtesie may answer your merit.

The Young man gave him to understand, that hee was the Musician and the Pane∣girick of the fore-passed night.

In good sooth (replyed Don-Quixote) you have a very good voyce: Neverthelesse mee seems, that what you sung was not greatly to the purpose: for what have the Stanza's of Garsilasse to doe with the death of this Damzell? My fair Sir, said the Musician, you ought not to wonder at that; the best and choisest Poets of our age doe practice it: so that every man writes as best pleaseth his fantasie, and stealeth what, and from whom he lists, whether it cohere with the purpose or not: By reason whereof all the follies, absurdities, or fopperies that they sing, indite, or write, they ascribe unto a Poeticall licence.

Don-Quixote would have answered, but hee was hindred by the Duke and Duchesse, who both entred the Chamber to see him. Amongst whom there passed so long a dis∣course and pleasant a conference, in which Sancho alledged so many ready quips, witty conceits, merry Proverbs, and therewithall so many wyly shifts and subtill knaveries, as the Duke and the Duchesse were all astonished again, as well by reason of his simplicity, as of his subtiltie.

Don-Quixot•• besought them to give him leave to depart the very same day; since that Knights subdued, as hee was, ought rather to dwell in an homely Cottage or sim∣ple Shed, then in Kingly Palaces; which they most willingly granted him: And the Duchesse demanded of him whether Altisidora was in his good favour, or no. Madame (answered Don-Quixote) you are to understand, that all the infirmitie of this Damzell takes its beginning and being from idlenesse, and that an honest occupation & continuall exercise is the only remedy for it: Shee was even now telling me, that in Hell they are working Tapistry work, and that there are made Tyrings and Net works.

I think that shee is skillfull in such works, and that's the reason shee therein imployes her self, never ceasing to handle small Spindles or Spooles: and thus the Images of him shee loveth will never be removed in her imagination.

What I tell you is most certain•• It is my opinion, it is my consell.

And mine also (quoth Sancho) since I never saw any workman that applyed or busied himself about such works, that dyed for love. The Maidens, I say, occu∣pied about such works think more on the accomplishing of their task, then on that of their Loves. I judge of it by my self, whilest I am digging or delving, I never think on my Pinkany at all; I speak of my Teresa Panca, whom I love better a thousand times then my very eye lids.

Sancho, you speak very well (said the Duchesse) and I will take such order, as my Altisidora shall henceforward occupie her self about such works; for shee can work them excellently well.

Madame (quoth Altisidora) I shall not need to use such a remedy, since the remem∣brance or consideration of the cruelties and unkindnesses which this Robber and roving Thief hath used towards me•• will be of force, without any other device or artifice to blot and deface them out of my memory. In the mean while, with your Highnesses per∣mission, I will bee gone from hence, that so mine eyes may not behold, not only his fil∣thy and gastly shape, but his ugly and abhominable countenance.

The words (replyed the Duke) which you utter, make me remember the old Pro∣verb, which teacheth us, that hee who sharply chides is ready to pardon.

Altisidora made a shew to dry up the tears from her eyes with a Handkerchief; and then making a very low courtesie unto her Master and Mistris, she went out of the Chamber.

Alas poor Damzel (said then Sancho) I send thee ill luck, since thou hast already met with it, in lighting upon a soul made of a Skuttle, and a heart of Oake. Hadst thou had

to doe with me, thou shouldest have found a Cock of me that would have crowed after another fashion.

Thus their discourse brake off; Don-Quixote took his clothes, dined with the Duke and Duchesse, and in the afternoon went his way.

CHAP. LXXI.

Of what befell Don-Quixote and his Squire Sancho Pança, in their travell towards their Village.

THe vanquished Knight Errant, Don-Quixote de la Mancha went on his Journey very sad and pensive on the one side, and most glad and buxome on the other: from his being conquered proceeded the cause of his sadnesse; and his gladnesse, in considering the worth and virtue of Sancho, whereof hee gave manifest evidence, in the re∣surrection of Altisidora; although with some scruple hee perswaded himself, that the enamoured Damzell was not verity dead.

Sancho was no whit well pleased, but chafed to himself because Altisidora had not kept promise with him, and given him the Shirts hee expected at her hands. And there∣fore musing and pondring on them, hee said to his Master: By my faith Sir, I am the most unfortunate Physician that may bee found in the world: There bee some Leaches that kill a sick man whom they have under cure, and will neverthelesse bee well paid for their pains. Now all they doe, is but to write a short Bill of certain Medicines, which the Apothecary, and not they, doth afterward compound: Whereas I, clean contrary, to whom the recovery and health of others doth cost many a clod of blood, many a first and bob, many a bitter frump, and many a lash with whips and rods, reap not so much as one poor farthing.

But certainly I promise you, if any diseased or sick body fall into my hands again, before I cure um, He bee very well greased for my pains: For the Abbot liveth sing∣ing, and I cannot think, that the heavens have endowed me with the virtue and know∣ledge I have, to the end I should communicate and impart the same unto others for nothing.

My good friend Sancho (answered Don-Quixote) thou art in the right, and Altisi∣dora hath done very ill, that shee hath not given thee the shirts which shee promised thee, although that virtue and propertie which thou hast, have been given thee gratis, and that in learning and studying it, thou hast not been at a penny charge: neverthelesse the troubles & vexations which thou hast received, and indured in thine own person, are farr more then all the studies that thou couldest have undergone or imployed about. As for mee, I can tell thee, that if thou wouldest have had the full pay for the whip-lashes that thou shouldest give thy self for the dis-enchanting of Dulcinea, thou hast already fully received it: Yet know I not whether the wages or hire will answer the Cure, or recovery; and I would not have it bee an hindrance to the remedy. Mee seems not∣withstanding•• that one shall lose nothing in the tryall. Consider Sancho, what thou wilt have, and forthwith whip thy self, & with thine own hands pay thy self down-right, since thou hast money of mine in thy keeping.

Sancho presently opened his eyes and eares a foot wide at these kinde offers, and took a resolution with a cheerfull heart to whip and lash himself: and therefore said unto his Master: Now is the time my Noble Sir, that I will wholly dispose my self to give you satisfaction, since I shall reap some bene••it by it. The love of my Children and my Wife induceth me to have no regard at all unto the harm or ill that may thereby come unto me.

Tell me then, what will you give me for every stripe or lash? If I were bound to pay thee (replyed Don-Quixote) equivalent to the greatnesse and qualitie of the remedy, the treasure of Venice, and the rich Mines of Peru would not suffice to recompence thee. Look well thy self what thou hast of mine, and value every lash as thou wilt. The whip lashes (quoth Sancho) are in number three thousand three hundred and odd: I have already given my self five, the other remain behinde: Let the five serve to deduct the odd number remaining, and let all bee reduced to three thousand and three hundred: My meaning is, to have for every lash a piece of three blanks (and lesse I will not have should all the world command me the contrary) so that they will amount to three thou∣sand and three hundred pieces of three blanks. The three thousand, make a thousand and five hundred half Ryalls, and they make seven hundred and fifty whole Ryalls; and the three hundred make one hundred and fifty half Ryalls, which amount unto the summe of threescore and fifteen Ryalls, which added unto the seven hundred and fifty, the whole summe amounteth unto eight hundred and five and twenty Ryalls.

I will reckon this summe, and deduct it from that I have of yours in my keeping, and by this means shall enter into my house both rich and well satisfied, albeit well whipt and scourged: for trouts are not caught with nothing; and I say no more.

Oh thrice happy Sancho! oh amiable Sancho! (said Don-Quixote) how am I and Dulcinea bound to serve thee, so long as the Heavens shall bee pleased to give us life? If shee recover her first being, and if it bee impossible to continue 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in that state, her misfortune shall prove most fortunate, and my defeat or conquest, a most glorious and happy triumph. Then look Sancho, when thou wil•• begin this discipline, and I will give thee one hundred Ryalls over and above, that so I may binde thee to begin betimes. When (replyed Sancho?) Even this very night. Bee you but pleased, that this night wee meet in the open field, and you shall see mee open, gash, and flay my self.

To bee short, the night came, which Don-Quixote had with all manner of impatience long looked for; to whom it seemed that the wheels of Apollo's Chariot had been broken, and that the day grew longer then it was wont, even as it happeneth unto Lo∣vers, who think that they shall never come to obtain the accomplishment of their desires. At last they entred a grove of delight some Trees, which was somewhat remote, and out of the high-way. After they had taken off the saddle and Pack-saddle of Rozinante and Dapple, they sate down upon the green grasse, and supped with such Victuals as Sancho had in his Wallets.

This good Squire having made of Dapples halter or head-stall a good big whip or scourage, hee went about twenty paces from his Master, and thrust himself among bushes and hedges.

Don-Quixote seeing him martch thus all naked and with so good a courage, began thus to discourse unto him: Take heed, good friend, that thou hack not thy self in pieces, and that the stripes and lashes stay the one anothers leisure; thou must not make such haste in thy Career, that thy winde or breath fail in thy couse. My meaning is, that thou must not lash thy self so hard and fast, that thy life faint before thou come to thy desired number: But to the end that thou lose not thy self for want of a paire of wri∣ting-Tables, more or lesse, I will stand aloof off, and upon these my prayer-beads will number the lashes that thou shalt give thy self. Now the heavens favour thee, as thy good meaning well deserveth.

A good Pay-master (answered Sancho) will never grudge to give wages; I think to curry or so belabour my self, that without endangering my life, my lashes shall bee sen∣sible unto me, and therein must the substance of this miracle consist. And immediately Sancho stripped himself bare from the gyndle upward, and taking the whip in his hand began to rib-baste and lash himself roundly; and Don-Quixote to number the strokes. When Sancho had given himself seven or eight stripes, hee thought hee had killed him∣self; so that pawsing a while, hee said to his Master, that hee was very much deceived, & would therefore appeale, for so much as every whip-lash did in lieu of a peece of three Blanks, deserve half a Ryall.

Make an end my friend Sancho (quoth Don-Quixote) and bee not dismaid; for I will re-double thy pay.

Now by my life then (quoth Sancho) blows shall shore upon me as thick as haile: but the Mountebank and cheating companion, in stead of lashing his shoulders, hee whipped the Trees, and so sighingly groaned at every stroake, that you would have thought his soul had flown out of his body.

Don-Quixote, who was now full of compassion fearing hee would kill himself, and that, through the folly of Sancho, his desires should not bee accomqlished, began thus to say unto him: Friend, I conjure thee, let this businesse end here; this remedy seems to me very hard and sharpe. It shall not bee amisse, that we give time unto Time; for Rome was never built in one day. If I have told right, thou hast already given thy self more then a thousand lashes: it now sufficeth; let me use a homely pharse, That the Asse endure his charge, but not the sur-charge.

No, no, my good Sir (answered Sancho) it shall never bee said of me, Mony well paid, and the Armes broken. I pray you goe but a little aside, and permit me to give my self one thousand stripes more, and then we shall quickly make an end; yea, and wee shall have more left behinde. Since thou art so well disposed (replyed Don-Quixote) I will then withdraw my self, may the heavens assist and recompence thee.

Sancho returned to his task, with such an earnest passion, that the bark of many a Tree fell off, so great was the rigor and fury wherewith hee scourged himself. Now in giving such an exceeding and outragious lash upon a hedge, hee cryed out alowd, Here is the place where Samson shall dye, with all those that are with him.

Don-Quixote ran presently at the sound of that wofull voyce, and at the noyse of that horrible whip-stroak. Then laying fast hold on the halter, which served Sancho in lieu of an Oxe-pizle, he said to him: Friend Sancho, let Fortune never permit that thou, to give me contentment, hazard the losse of thy life, which must serve for the entertain∣ment of thy Wife and Children, I will contain my self within the bounds of the next hope, and will stay untill thou have recovered new strength, to the end, this businesse may be ended to the satisfaction of all parties.

My good Sir (said Sancho) since you will needs have it so, in good time bee it. In the mean while, I beseech you Sir, cast your Cloak upon my shoulders: I am all in a sweat, and I would bee loth to take cold. Our new disciplinants runne the like danger.

Don-Quixote did so, and leaving himself in his doublet, he covered Sancho, who fell a-sleep, and slept untill the Sunne awakned him. They kept on their way so long, that at last they arrived to a place three leagues off, and at last staid at an Inne.

Don-Quixote knew it to bee an Inn, and not a Castle round environed with ditches or trenches, fortified with Towres, with Port-••••llices, and strong Draw-bridges: for since his last defeature, he discerned and distinguished of all things that presented them∣selves unto him with better judgement, as we shall presently declare.

He was lodged in a low chamber, to which certain old-worn curtains of painted Serge served in lieu of Tapistry hangings, as commonly they use in Country Villages. In one of the peeces might bee seen painted by a bungling and unskillfull hand, the rape of Helen, at what time her fond-hardy guest stole her from Menelaus. In another was the History of Dido, and Aeneas; Shee on an high Turret with a sheet, making signe unto her fugitive guest, who on the Sea, carried in a Ship, was running away from her.

Don-Quixote observed in these two stories, that Helen seemed not to bee discontent∣ed with her rape, for so much as shee leared and smiled underhand; whereas beauteous Dido seemed to trickle down tears from her eyes as big as Wall-nuts. Don Quixote in beholding this painted work, said; These two Ladies were exceedingly unfortunate that they were not borne in this age, and I most of all thrice unhappy, that I was not born in theirs; In faith I would so have spoken to these Lordly gallants, as Troy should

not have been burned, nor Carthage destroyed, since that only by putting Parts to death, I should have been the occasion that so many mischiefs would never have hapned.

I hold a wager (quoth Sancho) that e're long there shall bee never a Tipling-house, Tavern, Inne, Hostory, or Barbers Shop, but in them all wee shall see the History of our famous Acts painted: neverthelesse I would with with all my heart, that they might bee drawn by a more cunning and skillfull hand, then by that which hath pourtraid these figures.

Thou hast reason Sancho (answered Don-Quixote:) for this Painter is like unto Or∣banegia, who dwelled at Vbeda, who when hee was demanded what he was Painting, made this answer, That which shall come forth to light: And if perchance hee drew a Cock, hee would write above it, This is a Cock, lest any man should think it to bee a Fox. Now me thinks Sancho, that such ought to bee the Painter or the writer: (for all is one same thing) who hath set forth the History of this new Don-Quixote, because hee hath painted or written that which may come forth to the open light. Hee hath imitated a certain Poet named Mauleon, who the last yeer was at the Court, who sodainly would make answer to whatsoever was demanded him. And as one asked him one day, what these words Deum de Deo signified? Hee answered in Spanish, De donde diere. But omitting all this, tell me Sancho, Hast thou a minde to give thy selfanother touch this night, and wilt thou have it to bee under the roof of a house, or else in the open ayre?

Now I assure you (quoth Sancho) for the stripes and lashes that I intend to give my self, I love them as well in the house as in the open fields: yet with this Proviso, That I would have it to bee amongst Trees; for me thinks that they keepe mee good company, and doe exceedingly help mee to indure and undergoe my travell and pains.

Friend Sancho (said Don-Quixote) that shall not bee: rather reserve them, that you may exercise them when wee shall bee arrived at our Village, whither at the farthest we shall reach the next day after to morrow; and in the mean time thou shalt have reco∣vered new strength.

Sancho answered, that hee might doe what best pleased him; but notwithstanding hee desired to dispatch this businesse in hot blood, and whilest the Mill was going; for dangers consist often in lingring and expectation, and that with prayers unto God, a man must strike with his Mallet; That one, take it, is more worth then two; thou shalt have it: And better is one Sparrow in the hand, then a Vulture flying in the ayre.

Now for Gods sake Sancho (replyed Don-Quixote) let us not alledge so many Pro∣verbs; me thinks thou art still returning unto Sicut erat. I prethee speak plainly, cleerly, and goe not so about the bush with such embroyled speeches, as I have often told thee: and thou shalt see, that one loaf of bread will yeeld thee more then an hundred.

I am so unluckie (quoth Sancho) that I cannot discourse without Proverbs, nor can I alleage a Proverb, that seems not to bee a reason unto me: Neverthelesse, if I can, I will correct my self: and with that they gave over their enterparlie at that time.

CHAP. LXXII.

How Don-Quixote and Sancho arrived at their Village.

DOn-Quixote and Sancho looking for night, stayed in that Inne: The one to end in the open fields, the task of his discipline; and the other to see the successe of it, whence depended the end of his desires. Du∣ring which time a Gentleman on horse-back, followed by three or four Servants, came to the Gate of the Inne, to whom one of his attendants said thus: My Lord Don Alvaro Tarfe, you may here rest your self, and passe the great heat of the day: This Inne seemeth to bee very cleanly and cool.

Which speech Don Quixote hearing, he said unto Sancho; Thou oughtest to know, that when I turned over the Book of the second part of my History, me thought that in read∣ing of the same, I met with this name of Don Alvaro Tarfe.

That may very well bee (said Sancho) but first let us lee him alight from his horse, and then wee will speak unto him.

The Knight alighted, and the Hostesse appointed him a low Chamber, neer unto that of Don-Quixote, and which was furnished with like figures of painted Serge. The new-come Knight did forthwith put off his heavy clothes; and now going out of the Inne Porch which was somewhat spacious and fresh, under which Don-Quixote was walking, hee demanded of him: Whither goe you, my good Sir Gentleman? I am going (answered Don-Quixote) unto a certain Village, not farre off, where I was born. And you, my Lord, whither goe you? I travell (said the Knight) towards Granada, which is my native Country. Sir, you were born (replyed Don-Quixote) in a very good Country; in the mean time I pray you in courtesie tell me your name; for it stands me very much upon to know it, yea, more then can well bee imagined. I am called Don Alvaro Tarfe (answered the Knight.) Then are you undoubtedly (quoth Don-Quixote) that Alvaro Tar••e, whose name is imprinted in the second part of the History of Don-Quixote de la Mancha, which a modern Authour hath lately set forth. I am the very same man of whom you speak (said the Knight) and that Don Quixote who is the principall subject of such an History, was my very great friend.

It was even I that drew him first out of his Village, or at least that perswaded him to be at the Justs and Tiltings which were then kept at Saragosa, and whither I was going: and in good truth I did him a great favour; for I was the cause that the hang-man did not well claw and bum-baste his back, having rightly deserved such a punishment, be∣cause hee was over ••rash and fool ••hardy.

But tell me, I beseech you then (quoth Don-Quixote) my Lord, Don Alvaro, doe I in any thing resemble the said Don-Quixote of whom you speak? Nothing at all (an∣swered the other.) And did that Don-Quixote (replyed our Knight) conduct with him a Squire named Sancho Panca? Yes verily (quoth Don Alvaro) And the report went, that this Squire was very blithe, pleasant, aad gamesome; but yet I never heard him speak any thing with a good garbe or grace, nor any one word that might cause laughter.

I beleeve it well (said Sancho then) for it suits not with all the world to bee pleasant and jesting: and the very same Sancho of whom you speak (my Lord the Gentleman) must bee some notorious Rogue, some Greedy-gut, and notable Theef. It is I that am the right Sancho Panca, that can tell many fine Tales; yea, more then there are drops of water when it raineth: If so you please, my Lord, you may make experience of it: and follow me at least one yeer, and you shall then see, that at every step I shall speak so many unpleasant things, that very often, without knowing what I utter, I make all

them to laugh that listen unto me. In good sooth, Don-Quixote de la Mancha, the farre renowned, the valiant, the discreet, the amorous; he who is the redresser of wrongs, the revenger of outrages, the Tutor of Infants, the Gardian of Orphanes, the Rampire of Fortres••e of Widdows, the Defender of Damzels and Maidens: hee who hath for his only Mistris, the matchlesse Dulcinea del Toboso, is the very same Lord whom you see here present, and who is my good Master. All other Don-Quixote, and all other Sancho Panca's are but dreams fopperies and fables.

Now by my Holydam I beleeve as much (answered Don Alvaro;) for in those few words by you even now uttered, you have shewed more grace then ever did the other Sancho Panca in all the long and tatling discourses that I have heard come from him. He savoured more of the Gormand, then of a well-spoken man; more of a Coxcombe, then of a pleasant. Without doubt I beleeve that the Enchanters which persecute the good Don-Quixote, have also gone about to persecute me, in making me to know the other Don Quixote, who is of no worth or merit at all. Neverthelesse I wot not well what to say of it, since I durst swear that I left him at Toledo in the Nuncio his house, to the end he might bee cured and healed, and behold here another Don Quixote, but far different from mine.

As for me (quoth Don Quixote) I know not whether I bee good or no, but well I wot I am not the bad: And for a manifest tryall of my saying, my Lord Don Alvaro Tarfe, if you please, you shall understand, that in all my life-time I was never at Saragosa. And having of late understood, that the imaginary Don Quixote had been present at the Turnaments and Tiltings in that City, I would by no means come or goe into it, that in view of all the world I might manifest his false Tale; Which was the reason that I went strait vnto Barselona, the treasury or store-house of all Courtesie, the retreat and refuge of all Strangers, the relieving harborough of the poor and needy, the native home of valourous men, where such as be wronged or offended are avenged; and where true friendships are reciprocall, and in summe, a City that hath no peer, bee it either for beauty, or for the fair situation of it.

And albeit what hath befaln me bring me no great content, I doe notwithstanding somewhat allay the grief with the pleasure, which by the sight thereof I have received and felt.

To conclude, my Lord Don Alvaro Tarfe, I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, and the very same man of whom Fame speaketh, and not hee, that unhappy wretch, who to honour himself with my Designes, hath gone about to usurp my name.

In the mean while I humbly beseech you, by the profession which you make to bee a Noble Knight, that before the ordinary Judge of this place, you will bee pleased to make mee a Declaration and Certificate, how, so long as you have lived, even untill this present houre, you never saw me, & that I am not the said Don-Quixote imprinted in this second part: And likewise, That this Sancho Panca my Squire, is not hee whom you hereto∣fore have known.

I shall doe it with all my heart (quoth the Knight Don Alvaro) although I bee very much amazed to see two Don Quixotes, and behold two Sancho's at one very instant, so conformable in name, and so different in actions. But I tell you again and again, and I assuredly beleeve that I have not viewed what I have seen, and that what hath hapned unto me concerning this subject, hath not befaln at all.

Without doubt, my Lord (then said Sancho) it is very likely that you are Enchanted, even as my Ladie Dulcinea del Toboso is: would to God that your dis-enchanting might bee brought to passe with giving other three thousand and odd whip lashes, as I doe for her; I would most willingly give them unto my self, without any interest at all.

I know not what you mean (quoth Don Alvaro) by these whip-lashes. To whom Sancho said, it would be too long a discourse to relate; but yet hee would make him acquainted with the whole story, if peradventure they should both travell one same way.

By this time the hour of dinner was at hand, and they fed and ate together. At the

very same time the Judge of the place came into the Inne, attended on by a Clerk or Notary, whom Don Quixote required that hee would take a Certificat or declaration, which this Knight Don Alvaro Tarfe would declare unto him; for so much as it did highly concern his honour and reputation.

Now the Tenor of the Declaration was, that the said Gentleman did in no sort know Don-Quixote who was there present, and that hee was not the man, whose name they had lately imprinted in an History entituled, The second part of Don-Quixote de la Mancha, composed by Abellaneda, born at Tordesillas.

To conclude, the Judge ingrossed all according to the form of Law. The Decla∣ration was made in form and manner as all Notaries are accustomed to bee, in such and the like cases. By which means Don-Quixote and Sancho rested very glad, and well appaid, as if such a Declaration had been of very great moment and conse∣quence unto them, and as if their actions and speeches had not apparently shew∣ed the difference, and odds that was between the two Don-Quixotes, and the two Sancho's

Divers complements, an•• many offices and offers of courtesie did mutually enterpasse between Don Alvaro and Don-Quixote, wherein our heroik Knight de la Mancha decla∣red so much wisedome and such discretion, that he resolved Don Alvaro of the doubt wherein he was: for hee perswaded himself that hee was Enchanted, since with his own hands he felt and touched two Don-Quixotes so different and contrary one to another.

Mid-day being past, and the heat allayed, they departed from that place all together. They had not gone above half a league, but they met with two severall paths, the one led to Don-Quixotes Village, and the other to the place where Don Alvaro was going.

During which little space, Don-Quixote related at large unto him, the disaster of his over-throw, the enchantment and the remedy of Dulcinia. All which things bred and caused a new admiration in the minde of Don Alvaro, who kept on his way, and Don-Quixote his.

Our Knight passed that night among the Trees, to the end hee might give Sancho means and leisure to fulfill his penance, which hee accomplished even as hee had done the fore-passed night, more at the charges of the hedges, shrubs, and trees there grow∣ing, then of his back and shoulders: For hee kept them so safe and well, that the lashes which hee gave himself would not have caused a fly to stir, had shee taken up her stand there

Don-Quixote thus abused, lost not one stroke with mis-reckoning, and found that those of the foregoing night, joyned unto these, were just the summe of three thousand nine and twenty.

It seemed the Sunne rose that morning earlier then his wont, to behold this sacrifice, and they perceiving that it was bright day, went on their Journey, discoursing of the error wherein Don Alvaro was, and how they had done very well in taking a Declara∣tion before the Judge, and that so authentically.

They wandred all that day, and the night succeeding, without encountring any thing worthy the relation, unlesse it bee, that the very same night Sancho finished his whipping task, to the great contentment of Don Quixote, who greedily longed for peep of day, to see if in their travels they might meet with his sweet Mistris Dulcinea, who was now dis-enchanted.

Thus wandring, they met no woman, but they would approach and close with her, to take perfect view of her, and to discern whether it were Dulcinea of Toboso, confi∣dently assuring themselves, as of an infallible truth, that the promises of the Prophet Merlin could not possibly prove false.

Whilest they were musing on these things, and their longings increasing, they una∣wares ascended a little hillock, whence they discovered their Village. Which Sancho had no sooner perceived, but hee prostrated himself on his knees, and uttered these words:

Oh my dear-dearly-beloved, and long desired native Country, open thine eyes, and

behold how they Sonne Sancho returns at last to thee again; who, if hee bee not very rich, yet is hee at least very well whipt and lashed. Open thine armes likewise, and friendly receive thy Son Don-Quixote: And if he return to thee vanquished by the force of a strange Arme; hee yet at least returneth conqueror of himself. And as himself hath often told me, it is the greatest victory that any man can desire or wish for. I have good store of money; for if they gave me sound whip-lashes, I found much good in being a worthy Knight.

Let us leave these fooleries (said Don-Quixote) and forthwith wend unto our Vil∣lage, where wee will give free passage unto our imaginations and prescribe unto our selves the form and method that wee are to keep and observe in the rurall or pastorall life, which wee intend to put in practise. Thus reasoning together, they fair and gently descended the hillock, and approached to their Village.

CHAP. LXXIII.

Of the presages and fore-boadings, which hapned to Don-Quixote at the entrance into his Village; with other Adventures, which serve for grace and ornament unto this famous History, and which give credit unto it.

CID Hamete reporteth, That as they were come neer unto the entrance into their Village Don Quixote perceived how in the Commons thereof there were two yong Lads, who in great anger contested and disputed together. The one said to the other: Pierrot, thou must not chafe or be angry at it; for, as long as thou livest thou shalt ne∣ver set thine eyes upon her. Which Don Quixote hearing, hee began this speech unto Sancho: Friend (said hee) doest not thou under∣stand what yonder yong Lad saith? So long as thou livest thou shalt never let eyes upon her.

And what imports (quoth Sancho) what the yong Lad hath spoken? What (re∣plyed Don Quixote?) seest thou not, how that applying the words unto mine inten∣tion; his meaning is, that I shall never see my Dulcinea. Sancho was about to an∣swer him, but hee was hindred by an Hare, which chased, crossed their way. Shee was eagerly pursued by divers Gray-hounds and Hunts-men; so that fearfully amazed shee squatted down between the feet of Dapple.

Sancho boldly took her up and presented the same unto Don Quixote, who cryed out alowd, Malum signum, malum signum: A Hare runnes away, Gray-hounds pur∣sue her, and Dulcinea appears not. You are a strange man (then quoth Sancho) let us imagine that this Hare is Dulcinea, and the Gray-hounds which pursue her, the wicked Enchanters that have transformed her into a Country-Lasse: Shee runnes away, I take her up and deliver her into your own hands: You hold her in your armes, you hug and make much of her: What ill-boading may this be? and what misfortune can bee im∣plyed upon this?

In the mean while, the two yong Boyes came neer unto them, to see the Hare: and Sancho demanded of one of them the cause or ground of their brabling controversie? Then hee who had uttered the words, So long as thou livest, thou shalt never set eyes upon her, related unto Sancho, how that he had taken from the other boy a little cage full of Crickets, and that hee never purposed to let him have it again. Then Sancho pul'd out of his pocket a peece of six Blanks, and gave it to the other Boy for his Cage, which hee put into Don Quixotes hands, saying thus unto him, Behold, good Sir, all

these fond Sooth-sayings and ill-presages are dasht and overthrown, and have now no∣thing to doe with our Adventures (according to my understanding, although I bee but a silly gull) no more then with the last yeers snow. And, if my memory fail me not, I think I have heard the Curate of our Village say, That it fits not good Christians and wise folks to stand upon such fopperies.

It is not long since you told me so your self, vnd gave me to understand, That all such Christians as plodded and amused themselves upon Augures or Divinations, were very fools: And therefore let us no longer trouble our selves with them, but let us goe on and enter into our Village. There whilest the Hunters came in, they demanded to have their Hare, and Don••Quixote delivered the same unto them.

Then hee and Sancho kept on their way; and at the entrance into the Village, in a little Medow, they met with the Curate and the Bachelor Carrasco, who with their Beads in their hands were saying their prayers.

It is to bee understood, that Sancho Panca had placed upon Dapple, and upon the fardell of their weapons, the Jacket or Gaberdine of Boccasin, all painted over with fierie flames, which was upon him in the Dukes Castle, the night that Altisidora rose again from death to life; which Jubb or Jacket served them instead of a Carpet or Sumpter-cloth.

They had likewise placed upon the Asses head, the Miter, whereof wee have spoken before. It was the newest kinde of transformation, and the fittest decking or array, that ever Asse did put upon his head.

The Curate and the Bachelor knew them incontinently, and with wide-open armes ranne towards them.

Don••Quixote alighted presently and very kindely embraced them. But the little Children who are as sharp-sighted as any Linx, having eyed the Asses Myter, flocked sodainly about them to see the same, saying the one to the other, Come, come, and run all you Camarados, and you shall see Sancho Panca's Asse more brave and gallant then Mingo: and Don••Quixotes Palfry leaner, fainter, and more flaggy then it was the first day.

Finally, being environed with a many yong Children, and attended on by the Curate and Bachelor, they entred the Village, and went directly unto Don••Quixotes house: At the dore whereof they met with his Maid-servant, and with his Neece, who had already heard the news of their comming.

Teresa Panca, the Wife of Sancho, had likewise been advertised thereof. She ranne all dishevelled and half naked to see her Husband, leading her Daughter Sanchica by the hand. But when shee saw that hee was not so richly attired as shee imagined, and in that equipage a Governor should bee, shee thus began to discourse with him: My Husband, after what fashion doest thou come home? Me thinks thou commest on foot, and with toylesome travelling all tyred and faint-hearted: Thou rather bearest the countenance of a miserable wretch, then of a Gover∣nour.

Hold thy peace Teresa (quoth Sancho) for oftentimes when there bee Boots, there bee no Spurs: Let us goe unto our house, and there thou shalt heare wonders. So it is, that I have Money, which is of more consequence, and I have gotten it by mine own industrie, without doing wrong to any body.

Why then you have Money, my good Husband (replyed Teresa?) That's very well. It is no matter how you came by it, bee it by hook or crook: For, after what manner soever you have laid hands on it, you bring no new custome into the world. Sanchica embraced her Father, and asked him whether hee had brought her any thing; and that she had as earnestly looked for him, as men doe for dew in the moneth of May.

Thus his Wife holding him by the one hand, and his Daughter by the one side of his Girdle, and with the other hand leading Dapple, they entred into their Cottage, leaving Don••Quixote in his own house, in the power of his Neece and Maid-servant, and in the company of the Curate and the Bachelor.

Don-Quixote without longer delay, at that very instant drew the Bachelour and the Curate aside, and in few words related his being defeated unto them, and the Vow which hee had been forced to make, Not to goe out of his Village during the space of one whole yeere: how his purpose was fully to keep the same, without transgressing it one jot or attome; since that by the rules of Knight Errantry, and as he was a true Knight Errant, hee was strictly oblieged to performe it: Which was the reason that hee had resolved, during the time of that yeer, to become a Sheepheard, and entertain himself among the Desarts and solitarie places of that Country, where hee might freely vent out and give scope to his amorous passions, by exercising himself in commendable and pastorall exercises: And now besought them, if they had no greater affairs in hand, and were not imployed in matters of more importance, they would both bee pleased to become his companions and fellow Sheepheards: For hee would buy store of sheep, and get so sufficient a Flock together, as they might well take upon them the name of Sheepheards.

And in the mean time hee gave them to understand, that the chiefest point of his bu∣sinesse was already effected: for hee had already appointed them so proper and conve∣nient names, as if they had been cast in a mould.

The Curate would needs know these names. Don-Quixote told him, that himself would bee called the Sheepheard Quixotis; the Bachelor, the Sheepheard Carrascon; and the Curate, the Sheepheard Curambro; and as for Sancho Panca, hee should bee stiled Pansino.

They were all astonisht at Don-Quixotes new folly: Neverthelesse, that hee might not another time goe out of his Village, and return to his Kinghthoods and Cavaliers tricks: and therewithall supposing, that in the space of this yeer hee might bee cured and recovered; they allowed of his designe and new invention, and in that rurall exercise offered to become his companions.

Wee shall lead a pleasant life (said Samson Carrasco) since, as all the world know∣eth, I am an excellent Poet, and shall every hand-while be composing of Pa∣storall Ditties and Eglogues, or else some Verses of the Court, as best shall agree to our purpose. Thus shall wee entertain our selves by the wayes wee shall passe and goe.

But good Sirs, the thing that is most necessary is, that every one make choyse of the name of the Sheepheardesse whom hee intendeth to celebrate in his Verses: and that there bee no Tree, how hard or knurry soever but therein wee shall write, carve, or engrave her name, even as amorous Sheepheards are accustomed to doe.

In good sooth, that will doe passing well (quoth Don-Quixote) albeit I need not go farr to finde out an imaginary Sheepheardesse, since I have the never matched or para∣lelled Dulcinea of T••boso, the glory of all these shores; the ornament of these medows; the grace and comelinesse of beauty; the cream and prime of all gracefullnesse: and (to be short) the subject on which the extremity of all commendations may rightly be con∣ferred, how hyperbolicall soever it be.

It is most true (said the Curate:) But for us, wee must seek out some barren Sheep∣heardesses, and at least, if they bee not ••it and proper for us, yet on way or other they may stead us, if not in the main, yet in the by. Although wee have none (quoth Sam∣son Carrasco) yet will wee give them those very names as wee see in print, and where∣with the world is full. For wee will call them Phillis, Amarillis, Diana, Florinda, Galathea, and Belisarda. Since they are publiquely to bee sold in the open Mar∣ket-place, wee may very well buy them; and lawfully appropriate them unto our selves.

If my Mi••tris or to say better, my Sheepheardesse have to name Anna, I will cele∣brate her under the stile of Anarda; If shee bee called Francis, I will call her Fran∣cina; And if shee hight Lucie, her name shall be Lucinda; for all such names square and encounter. As for Sancho Panca, if hee will be one of our fraternity, hee may celebrate his Wife Teresa Panca under the name of Teresaina.

Don-Quixote burst out a laughing at the application of these names, whilest the

Curate did infinitely commend and extoll his honourable resolution, and again offer∣ed to keep him company all the time that hee could spare, having acquitted himself of the charge unto which hee was bound.

With that they took leave of him, perswading, and intreating him to have a care of his health, and indevour to bee merry.

So it hapned, that his Neece and his Maid-servant heard all the speeches, which they three had together: And when the Bachelour and the Curate were gone from him, they both came neer unto Don••Quixote, and thus his Neece bespake him.

What means this (my Lord, mine Uncle?) Now when we imagined that you would have continued in your own house, & there live a quiet, a reposed, & honourable life, you goe about to cast your self head-long into new Labyrinths and troubles, with becom∣ming a Swain or Sheepheard: Verily the corne is already over-hard to make Oaten pipes of it.

But how (quoth the Maid-servant) can you indure and undergoe in the opon fields the scorching heat of Summer, and the cold and frost of winter nights, and heare the howlings of Wolves, without quaking for very fear? No truely, for so much as that belongs only to such as are of a robust and surly complexion, of a hard and rugged skin, and that from their Cradles are bred and enured to such a Trade and occupation. If the worst come to the worst, it were better to bee still a Knight Errant, then a Sheepheard.

I beseech you, good my Lord, follow my counsell which I give you, not as being full of Wine and Bread, but rather fasting, and as one that have fifty yeers upon my head: Abide still in your house, think on your domestick Affairs, confesse your self often, serve God, doe good unto the poor, and if any harme come to you of it, let me take it upon my soul.

Good Wenches hold your peace (replyed Don-Quixote;) for I know what I have to doe: In the mean while, let me be had to bed; me thinks I am not very well: yet assure your selves, that whether I bee an Errant Knight, or a Sheepheard, I will carefully provide for all that you may stand in need of, and you shall see the effects of it.

The Neece and the Maid-servant who without doubt were two merry good Wen∣ches, laid him in his bed, and attended and lookt so well unto him, as they could not possibly have done better.

CHAP. LXXIV.

How Don-Quixote fell sick: Of the Will hee made; And of his death.

AS all humane things being transitory, and not eternall, are ever decli∣ning from their beginnings, untill they come unto their last end and period; but more especially, the lives of men. And as that of Don-Quixote had no priviledge from Heaven to continue in one estate, and keep it's course, his end surprized him, at what time hee least thought of it, I wot not whether it proceeded of the melancholy which the sad remembrance of his being vanquished caused in him; or whether the disposition of the Heavens had so decreed: So it is, that a burning Fever seized upon him, which forced him to keep his bed six dayes. During which time, the Cu∣rate, the Bachelor, and the Barber, who were all his good friends, did very often visit him: and Sancho Panca his good Squire never went from his bed-side.

They supposing, that the vexation and fretting which hee felt for having been con∣quered; as also because hee saw not the accomplishment of his desires, touching the dis-enchantment of Dulcinea, caused this sicknesse in him, endevoured by all possible means to make him merry.

The Bachelor desired him to bee of good courage, and to rise, that they might begin their Pastorall exercise, and how hee had already composed an Eglogue, which was no∣thing behinde those that Sanazaro had compiled: That for the same purpose hee had bought two goodly and fair Doggs, and of great renown, for to keep their Flock, whereof the one was called Barcino and the other Butron; and how a Sheepheard of Quintanar had sold them to him.

But for all this Don-Quixote quitted not his sorrow, nor left off his sad∣nesse.

His friends called for a Physician, who was nothing well pleased with his pulse which hee felt. And therefore hee told him, that whatsoever might happen, hee should not doe amisse to begin to think on the salvation of his soul; for the health of his body was in very great danger.

Don-Quixote, without being any whit amazed, did very quietly listen unto this dis∣course, which neither his Neece, his Maid, nor his Squire did; for they were so deeply plunged in tears and weeping, as had they seen gastly death in the face, they could have done no more.

The Physician told them plainly, That only melancholy, and his troublesome cares were the cause of his death.

Don-Quixote intreated the company to leave him alone, because hee had a great de∣sire to sleep a while. They did so, and hee had a sound nap (as they say) of six hours, so that the Maid and his Neece thought hee would never have waked again. Well, hee waked at last, and with a lowd and audible voyce hee uttered these words: The Al∣mighty God bee for ever blessed, that hath done so much good for me. To bee short, his mercies have no bounds, they are neither shortned nor hindred by the sinnes of man.

The Neece listned with heedy attention unto her Uncles words, and perceiving that they were better couched, and wiser disposed then those hee was accustomed to pro∣nounce in all his sicknesses, shee proposed this question unto him: My Lord and Un∣cle, what is that you say? Is there any new matter befaln? What mercies doe you speak of? Or what sinnes of men? My good Neece (replyed Don-Quixote) the mer∣cies I talk of, are those which God of his goodnesse hath at this instant conferred upon

me wretched sinner, and my sinnes have been no stop or let unto them. I possesse now a free and cleer judgement, and nothing over-shadowed with the misty clouds of igno∣rance, which the continuall reading and plodding on books of Chivalry had over-cast me withall.

I acknowledge all these extravagancies, and confesse them to bee but coozening tricks; and am agrieved that this disabuse hath hapned so late unto me, as it affords me no leisure to make amends for my over-sight, by reading of other good books, and which might serve and tend to the enlightning of my soul. My deer Neece, I feel my self neer unto death, but I would not have it to bee such, as the sirname of Fool should rest upon me; for although I have been foolish in my life, I desire not to confirm the truth of it in my death: And therefore, my dear friend, goe and cause the Curate, the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, and Master Nicholas the Barber to come immediately unto me: I desire to confesse my self, and to make my last Will and Testament. His Neece was eased of this labour, by the comming of them all three, who even then entred the Chamber, Don Quixote no sooner saw them, but said thus unto them.

My good Sirs, give me some new yeers gift, I am no more Don Quixote de la Man∣cha, but rather Alonso Quixano, unto whom my honest life and civill conversation hath heretofore appropriated the surname of Good. I am now a professed enemy to A∣madis de Gaule, & of all the infinite rabble of his race. Now are all the prophane Histories of Errant Chivalrie hatefull unto me; I now acknowledge my folly, and perceive the danger whereinto the reading of them hath brought me. But now, by the meer mercy of my God, become wise at my own proper cost and charges, I utterly abhorr them. When these three friends heard him speak so, they beleeved undoubtedly that hee was possessed with some new kinde of foolishnesse. My Lord Don Quixote (said Samson unto him) now that the news are come unto us, that the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso is dis-enchanted, doe you speak in this manner? And now that wee are so neer hand to become Sheep∣heards, that so wee may in singing mirth and jollity lead a kinde of Princely life, doe you intend to become a Hermite?

Hold your peace, I pray you (replyed Don-Quixote) recollect your wits together, and let us leave all these discourses: That which hitherto served me to my hurt and de∣triment, my death, by the assistance of Heaven, shall turn to my good, and redound to my profit. Good Sirs, I perceive and feel death to follow me at my heels: Let us leave off and quit all merriments and jesting, and let me have a confessor to shrift me, and a Notary to draw my last Will and Testament. In the extremity whereunto I now finde and feel my self, a man must not make a jest of his soule: and therefore whilest Master Curate is taking of my Confession, let mee have a Scrivener fetch'd.

They stood all gazing one upon another, wondring at Don-Quixotes found reasons, although they made some doubt to beleeve them. One of the signes which induced them to conjecture that hee was neer unto deaths door, was, that with such facility hee was from a stark fool become a wise man: For to the words already alleaged, hee added many more so significant, so Christian-like, and so well couched, that without doubt they confidently believed that Don-Quixote was become a right wise man. The Curate made all those who were in the Chamber to avoid, and being left alone with him, took his Confession. The Bachelor Carrasco went to finde out a Notary, who not long after came with him, and with Sancho Panca. This good Squire having under∣stood from the mouth of the Bachelour, that his Master was in a very bad estate, and finding his Maid-servant and his Neece weeping very bitterly, began like a mad-man, with his own fists, to thump and beat himself, and to shead brackish tears.

The Confession being ended, the Curate came forth, and was heard to utter these words: Verily, verily, hee is at his last gasp, and verily the good Alonso Qui∣xano is become wise, and it is high time for him to make his last will and Testa∣ment.

These heavy news opened the sluces of the tears-full and swoln-blubbering eyes of the Maid, of the Neeces, and of his good Squire Sancho Pansa; so that they showred forth whole fountains of tears, and fetched from the very bottome of their aggrieved hearts a thousand groaning sighs: For, in effect (as we have already declared else-where) whilest Don Quixote was simply the good Alonso Quixano, and likewise when hee was Don Quixote de la Mancha, hee was ever of a milde and affable disposition, and of a kinde and pleasing conversation: and therefore was hee not only beloved of all his Houshold, but also of all those that knew him.

In the mean space the Notary came, who, after hee had written the beginning of his Will, and that Don Quixote had disposed of his soul, with all the circumstances requi∣red and necessary in a true Christian: and that hee was come unto the Legacies, hee caused this to bee written. Item, concerning a certain summe of money which Sancho Panca, who•••• I made my Squire, whilest my folly possessed me, hath yet in his custody: For so much is between him and me there remain certain odd reckonings and accounts to bee made up, of what hee hath received and laid out: My will and pleasure is, That hee bee not ty'd to yeeld any account at all, nor bee in any Bond for it: Nay, rather if any over-plus remain in his hands, having first fully paid and satisfied him of what I owe and am indebted to him (which is no great matter) my purpose is, That it bee ab∣solutely his own, and much good may it doe him.

And as, being then a fool, I was the cause that hee had the Government of an Island given him, I would to God (now I am wise and in my perfect sences) it were in my power to give him a Kingdome: for the sincerity of his minde, and the fidelity of his comportments doe well deserve it. Then addressing himself unto Sancho, hee made this speech unto him: My dear friend, pardon me, that I have given thee occasion to seem a fool as I was, in making thee to fall into the same error wherein I was faln, that the world there have been, and still are Errant Knights.

Alas and wellady! my good Sir (answered Sancho throbbing and weeping) yeeld not unto death I pray you, but rather follow my counsell, which is, That you en∣deavour to live many fair yeeres. The greatest folly that any man can commit in this world, is to give himself over unto death without apparent cause, except hee bee wilfully slain, or that no other hand bring him to his end but that of me∣lancholy.

Once more I beseech you, suffer not remisnesse or faint-heartednesse to over∣come you. Rather rise out of your Bed, and let us goe into the fields attired like Sheepheards, as wee were once resolved to doe. It may come to passe that wee behinde some Bush or Shrub shall finde the Lady Madame Dulcinea dis-enchanted, so that wee shall have no more businesse. If the vexation or irksomenesse you feele to have beene vanquished attempt to bring you unto death, let mee under∣take the blame, who will stoutly maintain in all places, and before all men, That you were overthrown and quelled, because I had not well gyrt your Palfrey Ro∣zinante.

And you have seen and read in your Books of Chivalry, that it is an ordinary thing for one Knight to thrust another out of his saddle; And that hee who is to day con∣quered, is to morrow a conqueror.

It is most true (quoth Samson) and Sancho Panca relates the very truth of such ac∣cidents.

My Sirs (replyed Don-Quixote) I pray you goe not on so fast, since that in the Nests of the last yeer there are no Birds of this yeer: Whilome I was a fool, but now I am wise: Sometimes I was Don-Quixote de la Mancha, but am now (as I have already told you) the good Alonso Quixano. Let my unfained repentance, and the truth of what I say, obtain this favour at your courteous hands, that you will have the same estimation of me now, which you have had heretofore. And so let Master Notary proceed.

Item, I make and institute my Neece Antoinette Quixana (who is here present) generall Heir of all my goods whatsoever, having first deducted out of them, all that

shall be necessary for the full accomplishment of the Legacies which I have bequeathed: And the first thing I would have discharged, I purpose, shall bee the wages which I owe unto my Maid-servant; and that over and besides, shee have twenty Ducats delivered unto her, to buy her some good clothes withall.

Item, I appoint and institute Master Curate, and Master Samson Carrasco the Ba∣chelour here present, to be the Over-seers and Executors of this my last Will and Testa∣ment.

Item, my will and pleasure is, That if Antoinette Quixana my Neece chance to mar∣ry, that it bee a man of whom diligent enquiry shall first bee made, that hee is utterly ignorant of Books of Chivalrie, and that hee never heard speech of them. And if it should happen, that hee have read them, and that notwithstanding my Neece will, or take him to her Husband, That shee utterly lose, and never have any thing that I have bequeathed her as an inheritance, all which my Executors and Assigne•••• may at their pleasure as shall seem good unto them, imploy and distribute in pious uses.

Item, I intreat the said Executors and Over-seers of my Will, that if by good for∣tune they come to the knowledge of the Authour, who is said to have composed an History which goes from hand to hand, under the Title of The second part of the heroike feats of Armes of Don Quixote de la Mancha, they shall in my behalf most affectio∣nately desire him to pardon me; for that I have unawares given them occasion to write so infinite a number of great extravagancies and idle impertinencies; for so much as I depart out of this life with this scruple upon my conscience, to have given him subject and cause to publish them to the world.

Hee had no sooner ended his discourse, and signed and sealed his Will and Testament, but a swouning and faintnesse surprizing him, hee stretched himself the full length of his Bed. All the company were much distracted and moved thereat, and ranne presently to help him. And during the space of three dayes, that hee lived after hee had made his Will, hee did Swoun and fall into Trances almost every hour.

All the house was in a confusion and uproare: All which notwithstanding, the Neece ceased not to feed very devoutly; the Maid-servant to drink profoundly, and Sancho to live merrily. For when a man is in hope to inherit any thing, that hope doth deface, or at least moderate in the minde of the inheritor the remembrance or feeling of the sorrow and grief, which of reason hee should have a feeling of the Testators death.

To conclude, the last day of Don-Quixote came, after hee had received all the Sa∣craments, and had by many and Godly reasons made demonstration to abhorr all the Books of Errant Chivalry.

The Notary was present at his death, and reporteth how hee had never read or found in any Book of Chivalrie, that any Errant Knight dyed in his Bed so mildly, so quietly, & so Christianly, as did Don-Quixote.

Amidst the wailfull plaints and blubbering tears of the by-standers hee yeelded up the ghost, that is to say, hee dyed; which the Curate perceiving, hee desired the Notary to make him an Attestation or Certificate, how Alonso Quixano, surnamed the good, and who was commonly called Don-Quixote de la Mancha, hee was deceased out of this life unto another, and dyed of a naturall death: Which Testificate hee desired, to remove all occasions from some Authors, except Cid Hamete Benen∣geli falsly to raise him from death again, and write endlesse Histories of his famous Acts.

This was the end of the ingenious Gentleman de la Mancha, of whose birth-place Cid Hamete hath not been pleased to declare manifestly the situation unto us, to the end that all Villages, Towns, Boroughs & Hamlets of la Mancha should contest, quarrell, & dispute among themselves the honour to have produced him, as did the seven Cities of Greece for the love of Homer: we have not been willing to make mention and relate in this place, the dolefull plaints of Sancho; nor those of the Neece and Maid-servant of Don Quixote; nor likewise the sundry new and quaint Epitaphs which were graven

over his tombe; Content your self with this which the Bachelor Samson Carrasco placed there.

Here lies the Gentle Knight, and stout, That to that height of valour got, As if you marke his deeds throughout, Death on his life triumphed not With bringing of his death about.

The world as nothing hee did prize, For as a Scar-crow in mens eyes, Hee liv'd, and was their Bug-bear too; And had the luck with much adoe, To live a foole, and yet die wise.

In the meane while, the wise and prudent Cid Hamete Benengeli addrest this speech unto his witty Pen: Here it is (oh my slender Quill, whether thou bee ill or well cut) that thou shalt abide hanged upon those Racks whereon they hang Spits and Broaches, being there-unto fastned with this Copper Wire: There shalt thou live many ages, except some rash, fond-hardy and lewd Historian take thee downe to profane thee. Neverthelesse, before they lay hands upon thee, thou maist, as it were by way of adver∣tisement, and as well as thou canst, boldly tell them. Away, pack hence, stand a farr off, you wicked botchers, and ungracious Souters, and touch mee not since to mee on∣ly it belongs to cause to bee imprinted Cum bono Privilegio Regiae Majestatis. Don-Quixote was borne for mee alone, and I had my birth onely for him. If hee hath been able to produce the effects, I have had the glory to know how to write and compile them well. To be short, He and I are but one selfe-same thing, maugre and in despight of the fabulous Scribler de Tordesillas, who hath rashly and malap••rtly dared with an Estridge course and bungling Pen, to write the prowesse and high Feates of Armes of my valorous Knight.

This fardle is too-too heavy for his weake shoulders, and his dull wit over-cold and frozen for such an enterprize. And if peradventure thou know him, thou shalt also advise him to suffer the weary and already rotten bones of Don-Quixote to rest in his Sepulchre: For, it would bee too great a cruelty, if contrary to all Orders and Decrees of Death, hee should goe about to make shew of him in Castila the olde, where in good sooth hee lyeth within a Sepulchre, layd all along, and unable to make a third journey and a new outrode. It is sufficient to mocke those that so many wan∣dring Knights have made, that those two whereof hee hath made shew unto the world, to the generall applause, and universall content of all Peoples and Nations that have had knowledge of them, as well through the whole Countries of Spain, as in all other forreigne Kingdomes. Thus shalt thou performe what a good Christian is bound to doe, in giving good counsell to him that wisheth thee evill. As for mee I shall rest contented and well satisfied to have been the first that fully enjoyed the fruites of his writings, and that according to my desires; since I never desired any other thing, then that men would utterly abhore the fabulous impertinent and extravagant Bookes of Chivalries: And to say truth, by meanes of my true Don-Quixote, they begin already to stagger; for, undoubtedly such fables and slim-slam tales will shortly faile, and I hope shall never rise again. Farewell.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 2.1

  O dulces prendas. A be∣ginning of a Sonnet in Dia∣na de Monto Mayo••, which D. Q. here rap•• out upon a suddain.
• * 3.1

  Verses made on purpose absurdly, as the subject re∣quired, and so translated ad ver∣bum.
• a 4.1

  These verses and the former of Alti∣sidora, are made to bee scurvy on pur∣pose by the Author, fitting the occasions and the subjects, so he observes neyther Verse nor Rime,
• * 10.1

  Though these Verses were made on purpose, to bee absurd; yet sure the authoritie here fell into the com∣mon absurditie, that I have known many of his Coun∣treymen doe, which is, that England is in London, and not Vice Versa.