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

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.