The second part of the history of the valorous and witty knight-errant, Don Quixote of the Mançha. Written in Spanish by Michael Ceruantes: and now translated into English

CHAP. LXXII.

How Don Quixote and Sancho arriued at their Village.

DOn Quixote and Sancho looking for night, stayed in that Inne: the one to end in the open fields, the taske of his discipline; and the other to see the successe of it, whence depended the end of his desires. During which time, a Gentleman on horsebacke, followed by three or foure seruants, came to the gate of the Inne, to whom one of his attendants said thus; My Lord Don Aluaro Tarfe, you may heere rest your selfe, and passe the great heat of the day. This Inne see∣meth to be very cleanly and coole.

Which speech Don Quixote hearing, he said vnto Sancho, Thou oughtest to know, that when I turned ouer the booke of the second part of my history, me thought that in reading of the same, I met with this name of Don Aluaro Tarfe.

That may very well be, said Sancho: but first let vs see him alight from his horse, and then we will speake vnto him.

The Knight alighted, and the Hostesse appointed him a low chamber, neere vnto that of Don Quixote, and which was fur∣nished with like figures of painted Serge. The new-come Knight did forth-with put off his heauy cloathes, and now go∣ing out of the Inne-porch, which was somewhat spacious and fresh, vnder which Don Quixote was walking, he demanded of him, Whither goe you, my good Sir Gentleman? I am going (answered Don Quixote) vnto a certaine Village not farre off, where I was borne. And you, my Lord, whither goe you? I trauell (said the Knight) towards Granada, which is my natiue Country. Sir, you were borne (replied Don Quixote) in a very good Country; In the mean time, I pray you in courtesie, tel me your name; for it stands me very much vpon to know it, yea

more then can well be imagined. I am called Don Aluaro Tarfe (answered the Knight.) Then are you vndoubtedly (quoth Don Quixote) that Aluaro Tarfe, whose name is imprinted in the second part of the History of Don Quixote de la Mancha, which a moderne Author hath lately set forth. I am the very same man of whom you speake (said the Knight) and that Don Quixote who is the principal subiect of such an History, was my very great friend.

It was euen I that drew him first out of his village, or at least that perswaded him to be at the Iusts and Tiltings which were then kept at Saragosa, and whither I was going: and in good truth I did him a great fauour; for I was the cause that the hang∣man did not well claw and bum-baste his backe, hauing rightly deserued such a punishment, because he had beene ouer-rash and foole-hardy.

But tel me, I beseech you then (quoth Don Quixote) my Lord Don Aluaro, do I in any thing resemble the said Don Quixote of whom you speake? Nothing at all, answered the other. And did that Don Quixote (replied our Knight) conduct with him a Squire named Sancho Pansa? Yes verily, (quoth Don Aluaro) And the report went, that this Squire was very blithe, pleasant, and gamesome; but yet I neuer heard him speak any thing with a good garbe or grace, nor any one word that might cause laughter.

I beleeue it well, said Sancho then; for, it suits not with all the world to be pleasant and iesting: and the very same Sancho of whom you speake (my Lord the Gentleman) must be some no∣torious rogue, some greedy-gut, and notable theefe. It is I that am the right Sancho Pansa, 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 yeere, and you shall then see, that at euery step I shall speake so many vnpleasant things, that very often without knowing what I vtter, I make all them to laugh that listen vn∣to me. In good sooth, Don Quixote de la Mancha, the farre re∣nowned, the valiant, the discreet, the amorous; he who is the redresser of wrongs, the reuenger of outrages, the tutor of in∣fants,

the Gardian of Orphanes, the Rampire or fortresse of Widdowes, the Defender of Damozels and Maidens: he who hath for his onely Mistresse, the matchlesse Dulcinea del Toboso, is the very same Lord whom you see heere present, and vvho is my good Master. All other Don Quixotes, and all other Sancho Pansa's are but dreames, fopperies, and fables.

Now by my holydom I beleeue as much (answered Don Al∣uaro;) for, in those few vvords by you euen now vttered, you haue shewed more grace then euer did the other Sancho Pansa, in al the long & tattling discourses that I haue heard come from him. He sauoured more of the Gourmand, then of a well-spo∣ken man; more of a Coxe-combe, then of a pleasant. Without doubt I belieue, that the Enchanters, which persecute the good Don Quixote, haue also gone about to persecute me, in making me to know the other Don Quixote, who is of no worth or me∣rit at all. Neuerthelesse, I wot not well what to say of it, since I durst sweare, that I left him at Toledo in the Nuncio his house, to the end he might be cured and healed, and behold heere ano∣ther Don Quixote, but farre different from mine.

As for me (quoth Don Quixote) I know not whether I be good or no, but well I wot I am not the bad. And for a mani∣fest triall of my saying, my Lord Don Aluaro Tarfe, if you please, you shall vnderstand, that in all my life-time I was neuer at Saragosa. And hauing of late vnderstood, that the imagina∣ry Don Quixote had beene present at the Turnaments and Til∣tings in that City, I would by no meanes come or goe into it, that in view of all the vvorld 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 relieuing harborough of the poore and needy, the natiue home of valorous men, vvhere such as bee wronged or offended, are auenged; and where true friendships are reci∣procall, and in summe, a City that hath no peere, be it eyther for beauty, or for the faire situation of it.

And albeit what hath befalne me bring me no great content∣ment, I doe notwithstanding somewhat allay the griefe vvith the pleasure, vvhich by the sight thereof I haue receiued & felt.

To conclude, my Lord Don Aluaro Tarfe, I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, and the very same man of whom Fame speaketh, and not he, that vnhappy wretch, who to honour himselfe with my designes, hath gone about to vsurpe my name.

In the meane while I humbly beseech you, by the profession which you make to be a Noble Knight, that before the ordinary Iudge of this place, you will be pleased to make me a declarati∣on and certificate, how, so long as you haue liued, euen vntill this present howre, you neuer saw me, & that I am not the said Don Quixote imprinted in this second part, and likewise that this Sancho Pansa my Squire is not hee whom you heeretofore haue knowne.

I shall doe it with all my heart, (quoth the Knight Don Al∣uaro) although I be 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 againe and a∣gaine &, I assuredly beleeue that I haue not viewed vvhat I haue seene, and that what hath hapned vnto me concerning this sub∣iect, hath not befalne at all.

Without doubt, my Lord, then said Sancho, it is very likely that you are enchanted, euen as my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso is: would to God that your dis-enchanting might be brought to passe with giuing other three thousand and odde whip-lashes, as I doe for her; I would most willingly giue them vnto my selfe, vvithout any interest at all.

I know not what you meane (quoth Don Aluaro) by these whip-lashes. To whom Sancho said, that it vvould be too long a discourse to relate; but yet hee would make him acquainted with the whole story, if peraduenture they should both trauell one same vvay.

By this time the houre of dinner was at hand, and they fed and ate together. At the very same time the Iudge of the place came into the Inne, attended on by a Clerke or Notary, whom Don Quixote required that he would take a certificat or declara∣tion, vvhich this Knight Don Aluaro Tarfe would declare vn∣to him: forsomuch as it did highly concerne his honor and re∣putation.

Now the Tenor of this Declaration was, that the said Gentle∣man did in no sort know Don Quixote, who vvas there present, and that hee was not the man, vvhose name they had lately im∣printed in an History, entituled, The second Part of Don Quixote de la Mancha, composed by Abellaneda, borne at Tor∣desillas.

To conclude, the Iudge engrossed all according to the forme of Law. The Declaration vvas made in forme and manner as all Notaries are accustomed to be, in such and the like cases. By vvhich meanes Don Quixote and Sancho rested very glad, and well apaid, as if such a declaration had beene of very great mo∣ment and consequence vnto them, & as if their actions & spee∣ches had not apparently shewed the difference and ods that was betweene the two Don Quixotes, and the two Sancho's.

Diuers complements, and many offices & offers of courtesie did mutually enterpasse betweene Don Aluaro, & Don Quixote, wherein our heroyke Knight de la Mancha, declared so much wisedome, and such discretion, that he resolued Don Aluaro of the doubt wherein he was: For, he perswaded himselfe that he vvas enchanted, since with his owne hands hee felt and tou∣ched two Don Quixotes so different and contrary one to a∣nother.

Mid-day being past, and the heat allayed, they departed from that place all together. They had not gone aboue halfe a league, but they met vvith two seuerall paths, the one led to Don Quix∣otes Village, and the other to the place vvhither Don Aluaro was going.

During vvhich little space, Don Quixote related at large vnto him, the disaster of his ouer-throw, the enchantment, and the remedy of Dulcinea. All vvhich things bred and caused a new admiration in the minde of Don Aluaro, vvho kept on his vvay, and Don Quixote his.

Our Knight passed that night among the trees, to the end he might giue Sancho meanes and ley sure to fulfill his penance, vvhich he accomplished euen as hee had done the fore-passed night, more at the charges of the hedges, shrubs, and trees there growing, then of his backe and shoulders. For hee kept them

so safe and vvell, that the lashes which he gaue himselfe, would not haue caused a flye to stirre, had shee taken vp her stand there.

Don Quixote thus abused, lost not one stroke vvith misrec∣koning, and found that those of the fore-going night, ioyned vnto these, vvere iust 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 perceiuing that it was bright day, vvent on their iourney, discoursing of the er∣ror vvherein Don Aluaro vvas, and how they had done very well in taking a declaration before the Iudge, and that so au∣thentically.

They vvandred all that day, and the night succeeding, with∣out encountring any thing worthy the relation, vnlesse it be, that the very same night Sancho finished his vvhipping taske, to the great contentment of Don Quixote, vvho greedily longed for peepe of day, to see if in their trauels they might meete with his sweet Mistresse Dulcinea, vvho vvas now dis∣enchanted.

Thus vvandring, they met no vvoman, but they would ap∣proach & close vvith her, to take perfect view of her, and to dis∣cerne vvhether it were Dulcinea of Toboso, confidently assuring themselues, as of an infallible truth, that the promises of the prophet Merlin could not possibly proue false.

Whilest they vvere musing on these things, and their lon∣gings encreasing, they vnawares ascended a little hillocke, whence they discouered their Village. Which Sancho had no sooner perceiued, but hee prostrated himselfe on his knees, and vttered these words;

Oh my deare-dearely-beloued, and long desired natiue countrey, open thine eyes, and behold how thy sonne Sancho returnes at last to thee againe: who if he be not very rich, yet is he at least very well whipt and lashed. Open thine armes like∣wise, and friendly receiue thy sonne Don Quixote. And if he returneth to thee vanquished by the force of a strange arme, he yet at least returneth conquerour of himselfe. And as himselfe

hath often told me, it is the greatest victory, that any man can desire, or wish for. I haue good store of money: for, if they gaue me sound whip-lashes, I found much good in being a wor∣thy Knight.

Let vs leaue these fooleries, said Don Quixote, and forthwith wend vnto our Village, where we will giue free passage vnto our imaginations and prescribe vnto our selues the forme and method, that we are to keepe and obserue in the rurall or pa∣storall life, which we intend to put in practise. Thus reasoning together, they faire and gently descended the hillock, and ap∣proched to their Village.