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

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.