The history of the renown'd Don Quixote de la Mancha written in Spanish by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra ; translated from the original by several hands ; and publish'd by Peter Motteux ... ; adorn'd with sculptures.

CHAP. II. An Account of the beautiful Dorothea's Dis∣cretion, with other pleasant Passages.

THIS, Gentlemen, continu'd Dorothea, is the true Story of my tragical Adventures; and now be you Judges whether I had Reason to make the Complaint you overheard, and whether so un∣fortunate and hopeless a Creature be in a Condition to admit of Comfort. I have only one Favour to beg of you; be pleas'd to direct me to some Place where I may pass the rest of my Life secure from the Search and Inquiry of my Parents; not but their former Affection is a sufficient Warrant for

my kind Reception, could the Sense I have of the Thoughts they must have of my past Conduct per∣mit me to return to 'em; but when I think they must believe me guilty, and can now have nothing but my bare Word to assure 'em of my Innocence, I can never resolve to stand their Sight. Here Dorothea stopt, and the Blushes that overspread her Cheeks were certain Signs of the Discomposure of her Thoughts, and the unfeigned Modesty of her Soul. Those who had heard her Story were deep∣ly mov'd with Compassion for her hard Fate, and the Curate would not delay any longer to give her some charitable Comfort and Advice; but scarce had he begun to speak, when Cardenio addressing himself to her interrupted him, How Madam, said he, taking her by the Hand, are you then the beautiful Dorothea, the only Daughter of the rich Cleonardo? Dorothea was strangely surpriz'd to hear her Father nam'd, and by one in so tatter'd a Garb. And pray who are you Friend, said she to him, that know so well my Father's Name? for I think I did not mention it once throughout the whole Relation of my Afflictions. I am Cardenio, reply'd the other, that unfortunate Gentleman, whom Lu∣cinda, as you told us, declar'd to be her Husband: I am that miserable Cardenio, whom the Perfidious∣ness of the Man who has reduc'd you to this deplo∣rable Condition, has also brought to this wretched State, to Rags, to Nakedness, to Despair, nay to Madness it self, and all Hardships and Want of human Comforts; only enjoying the Privilege of Reason by short Intervals, to feel and bemoan my Miseries the more. I am the Man, fair Dorothea, who was the unhappy Eye-witness of Don Ferdi∣nand's unjust Nuptials, and who heard my Lucinda give her Consent to be his Wife; that heartless Wretch, who unable to bear so strange a Disappoint∣ment,

lost in Amazement and Trouble, flung out of the House, without staying to know what would follow her Trance, and what the Paper that was taken out of her Bosom would produce. I a∣bandon'd my self to Despair; and having left a Letter with a Person whom I charg'd to deliver it into Lucinda's own Hands, I hasten'd to hide my self from the World in this Desart, resolv'd to end there a Life which from that Moment I abhorr'd as my greatest Enemy. But Fortune has preserv'd me I see that I may venture it upon a better Cause; for from what you have told us now, which I have no Reason to doubt, I am embolden'd to hope that Providence may yet reserve us to a better Fate than we durst have expected; Heaven will re∣store you Don Ferdinand, who cannot be Lucinda's, and to me Lucinda, who cannot be Don Ferdinand's. For my Part, tho' my Interests were not link'd with yours, as they are, I have so deep a Sense of your Misfortunes, that I would expose my self to any Dangers to see you righted by Don Ferdinand: And here, on the Word of a Gentleman and a Christian, I vow and promise not to forsake you till he has done you Justice, and to oblige him to do it at the Hazard of my Life, shou'd Reason and Generosity prove ineffectual to force him to be blest with you. Dorothea ravish'd with Joy, and not knowing how to express a due Sense of Carde∣nio's obliging Offers, would have thrown her self at his Feet had he not civilly hinder'd it. At the same Time the Curate discreetly speaking for 'em both, highly applauded Cardenio for his generous Resolution, and comforted Dorothea: He also very heartily invited 'em to his House, where they might furnish themselves with Necessaries, and consult together how to find out Don Ferdinand, and bring Dorothea home to her Father; which

kind Offer they thankfully accepted. Then the Barber, who had been silent all this while, put in for a Share, and handsomly assur'd them he would be very ready to do 'em all the Service that might lie in his Power. After these Civilities he acquaint∣ed 'em with the Design that had brought the Curate and him to that Place; and gave 'em an Account of Don Quixote's strange kind of Madness, and of their staying there for his Squire. Cardenio hearing him mention'd, remember'd something of the Scuffle he had with them both, but only as if it had been a Dream; so that tho' he told the Company of it, he could not let them know the Occasion. By this Time they heard some Body call, and by the Voice they knew it was Sancho Pança, who not finding 'em where he had left 'em, tore his very Lungs with hollowing. With that they all went to meet him; which done, they ask'd him what was be∣come of Don Quixote? Alass, answer'd Sancho, I left him yonder in an ill Plight: I found him in his Shirt, lean, pale, and almost starv'd, sighing and whining for his Lady Dulcinea: I told him how that she'd have him come to her presently to Toboso, where she look'd for him out of Hand; yet for all this he would not budge a Foot, but e'en told me he was resolv'd he wou'd ne'er set Eyes on her sweet Face again till he had done some Feats that might make him worthy of her Goodness: So that, added Sancho, if he leads this Life any longer, I fear me my poor Master is ne∣ver like to be an Emperor, as he is bound in Ho∣nour to be, nay not so much as an Archbishop, which is the least thing he can come off with; therefore, good Sir, see and get him away by all Means I beseech you. The Curate bid him be of good Cheer, for they would take Care to make him leave that Place whether he wou'd or not;

and then turning to Cardenio and Dorothea, he in∣form'd 'em of the Design which he and the Barber had laid in order to his Cure, or at least to get him home to his House. Dorothea, whose Mind was much eas'd with the Prospect of better Fortune, kindly undertook to act the distress'd Lady her self, which she said she thought wou'd become her better than the Barber, having a Dress very proper for that Purpose, besides she had read many Books of Chivalry, and knew how the distress'd Ladies us'd to express themselves when they came to beg some Knight-Errant's Assistance. This is obliging, Madam, said the Curate, and we want nothing more: So let's to work as fast as we can; we may now hope to succeed since you thus happily facili∣tate the Design. Presently Dorothea took out of her Bundle a Petticoat of very rich Stuff, and a Gown of very fine green Silk, also a Necklace, and several other Jewels out of a Box; and with these in an Instant she so ado••••d her self, and ap∣pear'd so beautiful and glorious, that they all stood in Admiration that Don Ferdinand should be so in∣judicious to slight so accomplish'd a Beauty. But he that admir'd her most was Sancho Pança; for he thought he had ne'er set Eyes on so fine a Crea∣ture, and perhaps he thought right: Which made him earnestly ask the Curate who that fine Dame was, and what Wind had blown her thither among the Woods and Rocks? Who that fine Lady San∣cho? answer'd the Curate; she's the only Heiress in a direct Line to the vast Kingdom of Micomicon: Mov'd by the Fame of your Master's great Ex∣ploits, that spreads it self over all Guinea, she comes to seek him out, and beg a Boon of him; that is, to redress a Wrong which a wicked Giant has done her. Why that's well, quoth Sancho; a happy Seeking and a happy Finding. Now if my

Master be but so lucky as to right that Wrong, by killing that Son of a Whore of a Giant you tell me of, I'm a made Man: Yes he will kill him, that he will, if he can but come at him, and he ben't a Hobgoblin; for my Master can do no Good with Hobgoblins. But Mr. Curate, an't please you, I have a Favour to ask of you: I beseech you put my Master out of Conceit with all Archbisho∣pricks, for that's what I dread; and therefore to rid me of my Fears, put it into his Head to clap up a Match with this same Princess; for by that Means 'twill be past his Power to make himself Archbishop, and he'll come to be Emperor and I a great Man as sure as a Gun. I have thought well of the Matter, and I find 'tis not at all sitting he shou'd be an Archbishop for my Good; for what should I get by it? I an't fit for Church Pre∣ferment, I am a marry'd Man; and now for me to go to trouble my Head with getting a License to hold Church-Livings, 'twould be an endless Piece of Business: Therefore 'twill be better for him to marry out of hand this same Princess, whose Name I can't tell, for I never heard it. They call her the Princess Micomicona, said the Cu∣rate; for her Kingdom being call'd Micomicon, 'tis a clear Case she must be call'd so. Like enough, quoth Sancho; for I have known several Men in my Time go by the Names of the Places where they were born, as Pedro de Alcala, Juan de Ubeda, Diego de Valladolid; and mayhap the like is done in Guinea, and the Queens go by the Name of their Kingdoms. 'Tis well observ'd, reply'd the Cu∣rate: As for the Match, I'll promote it to the ut∣most of my Power. Sancho was heartily pleas'd with this Promise; and on the other Side, the Curate was amaz'd to find the poor Fellow so strangely infected with his Master's mad Notions,

as to rely on his becoming an Emperor. By this Time Dorothea being mounted on the Curate's Mule, and the Barber having clapt on his Ox-tail Beard, nothing remain'd but to order Sancho to shew 'em the Way, and to renew their Admoniti∣ons to him, lest he shou'd seem to know 'em, and so spoil the Plot, which if he did, they told him 'twould be the Ruin of all his Hopes and his Ma∣ster's Empire. As for Cardenio, he did not think fit to go with 'em, having no Business there; besides, he cou'd not tell but that Don Quixote might re∣member their late Fray. The Curate likewise, not thinking his Presence necessary, resolv'd to stay to keep Cardenio Company; so after he had once more given Dorothea her Cue, she and the Barber went before with Sancho, while the two others follow'd on foot at a Distance.

Thus they went on for about three Quarters of a League, and then among the Rocks they spy'd Don Quixote, who had by this Time put on his Cloaths tho' not his Armour. Immediately Doro∣thea understanding he was the Person, whipp'd her Palfry, and when she drew near Don Quixote, her Squire alighted and took her from her Saddle. When she was upon her Feet she gracefully ad∣vanc'd towards the Knight, and with her Squire falling on her Knees before him, in spight of his Endeavours to the contrary, Thrice valorous and invincible Knight, said she, never will I rise from this Place till your Generosity has granted me a Boon, which shall redound to your Honour, and the Relief of the most disconsolate and most in∣jur'd Damsel that the Sun ever saw: And indeed if your Valour and the Strength of your formidable Arm be answerable to the Extent of your im∣mortal Renown, you are bound by the Laws of Honour and the Knighthood which you profess, to

succour a distress'd Princess, who led by the re∣sounding Fame of your marvellous and redoubted Feats of Arms, comes from the remotest Regions to implore your Protection. I cannot, said Don Quixote, make you any Answer, most beautiful La∣dy, nor will I hear a Word more unless you vouch∣safe to rise. Pardon me, noble Knight, reply'd the petitioning Damsel; my Knees shall first be rooted here, unless you will courteously condescend to grant me the Boon which I humbly request. I grant it then, Lady, said Don Quixote, provided it be nothing to the Disservice of my King, my Country, and that Beauty who keeps the Key of my Heart and Liberty. It shall not tend to the Prejudice or Detriment of any of these, cry'd the Lady. With that Sancho closing up to his Master, and whispering him in the Ear, Grant it Sir, quoth he, grant it I tell ye; 'tis but a Trifle next to no∣thing, only to kill a great Looby of a Giant; and she that asks this is the high and mighty Princess Micomicona, Queen of the huge Kingdom of Mico∣micon in Ethiopia. Let her be what she will, re∣ply'd Don Quixote, I will discharge my Duty and obey the Dictates of my Conscience according to the Rules of my Profession. With that turning to the Damsel, Rise Lady, I beseech you, cry'd he; I grant you the Boon which your singular Beauty demands. Sir, said the Lady, the Boon I have to beg of your magnanimous Valour is, that you will be pleas'd to go with me instantly whi∣ther I shall conduct you, and promise me not to en∣gage in any other Adventure till you have reveng'd me on a Traytor who usurps my Kingdom, con∣trary to the Laws both Human and Divine. I grant you all this, Lady, quoth Don Quixote; and therefore from this Moment shake off all despond∣ing Thoughts that sit heavy upon your Mind,

and study to revive your drooping Hopes; for by the Assistance of Heaven and my strenuous Arm, you shall see your self restor'd to your Kingdom, and seated on the Throne of your Ancestors, in spight of all the Traitors that dare oppose your Right. Let us then hasten our Performance; De∣lay always breeds Danger; and to protract a great Design is often to ruin it. The thankful Princess, to speak her grateful Sense of his Generosity, strove to kiss the Knight's Hand; however he who was in every thing the most gallant and courteous of all Knights, would by no Means admit of such a Submission; but having gently rais'd her up, he embrac'd her with an awful Grace and Civility, and then call'd to Sancho for his Arms. Sancho went immediately, and having fetch'd 'em from a Tree, where they hung like Trophies, arm'd his Master in a Moment And now the Champion being compleatly accoutred, Come on, said he, let us go and vindicate the Rights of this dispossess'd Princess. The Barber was all this while upon his Knees, and had enough to do to keep himself from laughing, and his Beard from falling, which, if it had drop'd off, as it threaten'd, wou'd have betrayed his Face and their whole Plot at once. But being reliev'd by Don Quixote's haste to put on his Armour, he rose up, and taking the Princess by the Hand, they both together set her upon her Mule. Then the Knight mounted his Rozinante, and the Barber got on his Beast. Only poor San∣cho was forc'd to foot it, which made him fetch many a heavy Sigh, for the loss of his dear Dap∣ple: However, he bore his Crosses patiently, see∣ing his Master in so fair a way of being next door to an Emperor; for he did not question but he wou'd marry that Princess, and so be at least King of Micomicon. But yet it griev'd him

to think his Master's Dominions were to be in the Land of the Negroes, and that consequently the People over whom he was to be Governour were all to be black. But he presently bethought him∣self of a good Remedy for that: What care I, quoth he, tho' they be Blacks? Best of all; 'tis but loading a Ship with them and having 'em into Spain, where I shall find Chapmen enow to take 'em off my Hands, and pay me ready Money for 'em; and so I'll raise a good round Sum, and buy me a Title or an Office to live upon frank and easy all the Days of my Life. Hang him that has no Shifts, say I; it's a sorry Goose that will not baste her self. Why what if I am not so Book-learn'd as other Folks, sure I've a Head-piece good enough to know how to sell ten, twenty, or thirty thousand Slaves. 'Tis as easy as jumping over a Straw. Let 'em e'en go higgle∣dy-piggledy, little and great. What tho' they be as black as the Devil in Hell, let me alone to turn 'em into white and yellow Boys: I think I know how to lick my own Fingers. Big with these I∣maginations, Sancho trudg'd along so pleas'd and light-hearted that he forgot his Pain of travelling afoot. Cardenio and the Curate had beheld the pleasant Scene thro' the Bushes, and were at a Loss what they should do to join Companies: But the Curate, who had a contriving Head, at last be∣thought himself of an Expedient; and pulling out a Pair of Scissars which he us'd to carry in his Pocket, he snipp'd off Cardenio's Beard in a Trice; and having pull'd off his black Cloak and a sad-co∣lour'd Riding hood which he had on, he equipp'd Cardenio with 'em, while he himself remain'd in his Doublet and Breeches. In which new Garb Cardenio was so strangely alter'd, that he wou'd not have known himself in a Looking-glass. This

done they made to the High-way, and there stay'd till Don Quixote and his Company were got clear of the Rocks and bad Ways, which did not per∣mit Horsemen to go so fast as those on foot. When they came near, the Curate look'd very earnestly upon Don Quixote, as one that was in a Study whether he might not know him; and then, like one that had made a Discovery, he ran towards the Knight with open Arms, crying out, Mirrour of Chivalry, my noble Countryman Don Quixote de la Mancha! the Cream and Flower of Gentility! the Shelter and Relief of the Afflicted, and Quin∣tessence of Knight-Errantry! How over-joy'd am I to have found you! At the same Time he em∣brac'd his left Leg. Don Quixote admiring what Adorer of his heroick Worth this should be, look'd on him earnestly; and at last calling him to Mind, wou'd have alighted to have pay'd him his Re∣spects, not a little amaz'd to meet him there. But the Curate hindring him, Reverend Sir, cry'd the Knight, I beseech you let me not be so rude as to sit on Horse-back, while a Person of your Worth and Character is on foot. Sir, reply'd the Curate, you shall by no Means alight: Let your Excellen∣cy be pleas'd to keep your Saddle, since thus mounted you every Day atchieve the most stupen∣dous Feats of Arms and Adventures that were e∣ver seen in our Age. 'Twill be Honour enough for an unworthy Priest, like me, to get up be∣hind some of your Company, if they will permit me; and I will esteem it as great a Happiness, as to be mounted upon Pegasus, or the Zebra or Ele∣phant of the famous Moor Musaraque, who to this Hour lies inchanted in the dreary Cavern of Zule∣ma, not far distant from the great Compluto. Tru∣ly,

good Sir, I did not think of this, answer'd Don Quixote; but I suppose my Lady the Princess will be so kind as to command her Squire to lend you his Saddle, and to ride behind himself, if his Mule be but us'd to carry double. I believe it will, cry'd the Princess; and my Squire, I sup∣pose, will not stay for my Commands to offer his Saddle, for he is too courteous and well-bred to suffer an Ecclesiastical Person to go afoot, when we may help him to a Mule. Most certainly, cry'd the Barber; and with that dismounting, he offer'd the Curate his Saddle, which was accepted without much Intreaty. By ill Fortune the Mule was a hir'd Beast, and consequently unlucky; so as the Barber was getting up behind the Curate; the resty Jade gave two or three Jerks with her hinder Legs, that had they met with Master Ni∣cholas's Scull or Ribs, he wou'd have bequeath'd his Rambling after Don Quixote to the Devil. How∣ever he flung himself nimbly off, and was more afraid than hurt; but yet as he fell his Beard dropp'd off, and being presently sensible of that Accident, he cou'd not think of any better Shift than to clap both his Hands before his Cheeks, and cry out he had broken his Jaw-bone. Don Quixote was amaz'd to see such an overgrown Bush of Beard lie on the Ground without Jaws and blood∣less. Bless me, cry'd he, what an amazing Mira∣cle is this! Here's a Beard as cleverly taken off by Accident, as if a Barber had mow'd it. The Cu∣rate perceiving the Danger they were in of being discover'd, hastily caught up the Beard, and run∣ning to the Barber, who lay all the while roaring and complaining, he pull'd his Head close to his own Breast, and then muttering certain Words, which he said were a Charm appropriated to the fast'ning on of fall'n Beards, he fix'd it on again

so handsomely, that the Squire was presently as bearded and as well as ever he was before; which rais'd Don Quixote's Admiration, and made him engage the Curate to teach him the Charm at his Leisure, not doubting but its Virtue extended further than to the fast'ning on of Beards, since 'twas impossible that such a one cou'd be torn off without fetching away Flesh and all; and conse∣quently such a sudden Cure might be beneficial to him upon Occasion. And now every thing being set to rights, they agreed that the Curate shou'd ride first by himself, and then the other two by Turns relieving one another, sometimes riding sometimes walking, till they came to their Inn, which was about two Leagues off. So Don Quix∣ote, the Princess, and the Curate being mounted, and Cardenio, the Barber, and Sancho ready to move forwards on foot, the Knight addressing himself to the distress'd Damsel, Now Lady, said he, let me intreat your Greatness to tell me which Way we must go to do you Service. The Curate, be∣fore she cou'd answer, thought fit to ask her a Que∣stion that might the better enable her to make a proper Reply. Pray Madam, said he, towards what Country is it your Pleasure to take your Pro∣gress? Is it not towards the Kingdom of Micomi∣con? I am very much mistaken if that be not the Part of the World whither you desire to go. The Lady having her Cue, presently understood the Curate, and answer'd that he was in the Right. Then, said the Curate, your Way lies directly through the Village where I live, from whence we have a strait Road to Carthagena, where you may conveniently take Shipping; and if you have a fair Wind and good Weather, you may in some∣thing less than nine Years reach the vast Lake Me••na, I mean the Palus Moeotis, which lies some∣what

more than a hundred Days Journey from your Kingdom. Surely, Sir, reply'd the Lady, you are under a Mistake; for 'tis not quite two Years since I left the Place, and besides we have had very little fair Weather all the while, and yet I am already got hither, and have so far succeeded in my Designs, as to have obtain'd the Sight of the renown'd Don Quixote de la Mancha, the Fame of whose Atchievements reach'd my Ears as soon as I landed in Spain, and mov'd me to find him out to throw my self under his Protection, and commit the Justice of my Cause to his invincible Valour. No more Madam, I beseech you, cry'd Don Quixote; spare me the Trouble of hearing my self prais'd, for I mortally hate whatever may look like Adulation; and tho' your Compliments may deserve a better Name, my Ears are too mo∣dest to be pleas'd with any such Discourse; 'tis my Study to deserve and to avoid Applause. All I will venture to say, is, that whether I have any Valour or no, I am wholly at your Service, even at the Expence of the last Drop of my Blood; and therefore waving all these Matters till a fit Oppor∣tunity, I would gladly know of this reverend Clergyman what brought him hither, unattended by any of his Servants, alone, and so slenderly cloth'd, for I must confess I am not a little sur∣priz'd to meet him in this Condition. To tell you the Reason in few Words, answer'd the Cu∣rate, you must know that Mr. Nicholas our Friend 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Barber went with me to Sevil, to receive some Money which a Relation of mine sent me from the Indies, where he has been settl'd these many Years; neither was it a small Sum, for 'twas no less than twenty thousand Pieces of Eight, and all of due Weight, which is no common thing you may well judge: But upon the Road hereabouts

we met four Highwaymen that rob'd us of all we had, even to our very Beards, so that the poor Barber was forc'd to get him a Chin-Perriwig. And for that young Gentleman whom you see there (continu'd he, pointing to Cardenio) after they had stripp'd him to his Shirt, they transfi∣gur'd him as you see. Now every Body hereabouts says, that those who rob'd us were certainly a Pack of Rogues condemn'd to the Gallies, who, as they were going to Punishment, were rescu'd by a single Man not far from this Place, and that with so much Courage, that in spite of the King's Officer and his Guards he alone set 'em all at Li∣berty. Certainly that Man was either mad, or as great a Rogue as any of 'em; for wou'd any one that had a Grain of Sense or Honesty have let loose a Company of Wolves among Sheep, Foxes among innocent Poultry, and Wasps among the Honey-pots? He has hinder'd publick Justice from taking its Course, broke his Allegiance to his lawful Soveraign, disabl'd the Strength of his Gallies, rebell'd against him, and oppos'd his Offi∣cers in Contempt of the Law, and set in an Up∣roar the holy Brotherhood, those honest Thief-catchers, that had lain quiet so long; nay, what is yet worse, he has endanger'd his Life upon Earth and his Salvation hereafter. Sancho had given the Curate an Account of the Adventure of the Gal∣ly-Slaves, and this made him inveigh against it so severely, to try how Don Quixote wou'd bear i••. The Knight chang'd Colour at every Word, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 daring to confess he was the pious Knight-Errant who had deliver'd those worthy Gentlemen out of Bondage. These, said the Curate, by way of Conclusion, were the Men that reduc'd us to this Condition; and may Heaven in Mercy forgive him that freed 'em from the Punishment they so well deserv'd.