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

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.