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

CHAP. XVI.

Wherin is recounted the History of the Lackey, with other strange aduentures befalne in the Inne.

I Am a Mariner to loue, Which in his depths profound Still sailes, and yet no hope can proue Of comming aye to the ground.

I following go, a glistring starre, Which I aloose descry, Much more resplendent, then those are That Palinure did spye:

I know not where my course to bend, And so confusedly, To see it onely I pretend Carefull and carelesly.

Her too impertinent regard, And too much modestie, The clouds are which mine eyes haue bard From their deserued fee.

O cleere and soule reuiuing star, Whose sight doth trie my trust, If thou thy light from me debar, Instantly die I must.

The Singer arriuing to this point of his song, Dorotea ima∣gined that it would not be amisse to let Donna Clara heare so excellent a voyce, and therfore she iogged her a little on the one and other side, vntill she had awaked her, and then said, Pardon me childe for thus interrupting your sweete re∣pose, seeing I doe it to the end you may ioy, by hearing one

of the best voyces that perhaps you euer heard in your life. Clara awaked at the first drowsily, and did not well vnder∣stand what Dorotea said, and therefore demaunding of her what she said, she told it her againe; wherupon Donna Cla∣ra was also attentiue: but scarce had she heard two verses repeated by the early Musitian, when a maruellous tremb∣ling inuaded her, euen as if she had then suffered the grie∣uous fit of a quartane Ague. Wherefore imbracing Doro∣tea very straightly, she said, Alas deere Ladie, why did you awake me, seeing the greatest hap that fortune could in this instant haue giuen me, was, to haue mine eyes and eares so shut, as I might neither see, nor heare that vnfortunate Mu∣sitian: what is that you say childe, quoth Dorotea, did you not heare one say that the Musitian is but a horseboy? Hee is no horseboy, quoth Clara, but a Lord of many townes; and he that hath such firme possession of my soule, as if hee himselfe will not reiect it, he shall neuer be depriued of the dominion thereof. Dorotea greatly wondred at the passio∣nate wordes of the young gyrle, whereby it seemed to her that she far surpassed the discretion which so tender yeares did promise: and therefore she replied to her, saying, You speake so obscurely Lady Clara, as I cannot vnderstand you, expound your selfe more cleerly, and tel me what is that you say of soules, and townes, and of this Musitian, whose voyce hath altred you so much: but doe not say anything to me now; for I would not lose, by listening to your disgusts, the pleasure I take to heare him sing, for me thinkes he resumes his musicke with new verses, and in another tune: in a good houre, quoth Donna Clara; and then because shee her selfe would not heare him, she stopt her eares with her fingers; whereat Dorotea did also maruell: but being attentiue to the Musicke, she heard the Lackey prosecute his song in this manner.

O Sweet and constant hope, That break'st impossibilities and bryars,

And firmely run'st the scope Which thou thy selfe dost forge to thy desires. Be not dismaide to see At eur'y step thy selfe, nigh death to bee.

Sluggards doe not deserue The glorie of triumphs or victorie, Good hap doth neuer serue Those, which resist not Fortune manfully, But weakely fall to ground: And in soft slouth, then senses all confound.

That loue his glories hold At a high rate, it reason is and iust: No precious stones nor gold May be at all compared with loues gust. And tis a thing most cleare: Nothing is worth esteeme that cost not deare.

An amarous persistance Obtaineth oftimes things impossible And so though I resistance Finde of my soules desires, in her sternewill; I hope, time shall be giuen When I from earth may rech her glorious heauen.

Heere the voyce ended, and Donna Claras sighes be∣gan; all which inflamed Doroteas desire to know the cause of so sweete a song, and so sad a plaint. And therefore she eftsoones required her, to tell her now what she was about to haue said before. Then Clara timerous, lest Luscinda should ouerheare her, imbracing Dorotea very neerely, laid her mouth so close to Doroteas eare, as she might speake se∣curely without being vnderstood by any other, and said; he that sings is, deere Ladie, a Gentlemans sonne of the King∣dome of Aragon, whose father is Lord of two townes, and dwelled right before my fathers house at the Court, and al∣though the windowes of our house were in Winter couered with seare cloth, and in Sommer with lattice, I know not

how it happened, but this Gentleman, who went then to the schole espied me, and whether it was at the Church, or else where, I am not certaine. Finally, he fell in loue with mee, and did acquite me with his affection from his owne win∣dowes that were opposite to mine, with so many tokens and such abundance of teares, as I most forceably beleeued, and also affected him, without knowing how much he loued me among the signes that he would make me one was to ioyne the one hand to the other, giuing me thereby to vnderstand that he would marry me: and although I would be very glad that it might be so; yet as one alone, & without a mother, I knew not to whō I might cōmunicate the affaire, & did ther∣fore let it rest without affording him any other fauour, vnlesse it were when my father & his were gone abroad, by lifting vp the lattice or Searecloth only a little, & permitting him to be hold me; for vvhich fauor he vvould shew such signes of ioy, as a man vvould deeme him to be rest of his vvits. The time of my fathers departure arriuing, & he hering of it, but not from me (for I could neuer tell it to him) he fell sicke, as farre as I could vnderstand for griefe, and therefore I could neuer see him all the day of our departure, to bid him farevvell at least vvith mine eyes: but after me had trauelled tvvo daies iust as vve entred into an Inne in a village a daies iourney from hence, I saw him at the lodging doore, apparrelled so pro∣perly like a Lacky, as if I had not borne about me his purtra∣ture in my foule, it had bene impossible to know him. I knew him, and wondred, and was glad withall; and he beheld me vnwitting my father, from whose presence he stil hides him∣selfe when he crosses the waies before me as we trauell, or after we arriue at any Inne. And because that I know what he is, and do consider the paine hee takes by comming thus a foote for my sake, and that with so great toyle, I die for sorrow, and where he puts his feete I also put mine eyes. I know not vvith vvhat intention he comes, nor how he could possibly thus escape from his father, vvho loues him beyond measure, both because he hath none other hayre, and be∣cause

the young Gentleman also deserues it, as you vvill per∣ceiue vvhen you see him: and I dare affirme besides, that all that vvhich he saies he composes extempore, and vvithout any studie; for I haue heard that he is a fine student, and a great Poet. And euery time that I see him, or do heare him sing, I start and tremble like an Aspen leafe, for feare that my father should know him, and thereby come to haue no∣tice of our mutuall affections. I haue neuer spoken one word to him in my life, & yet I do neuerthelesse loue him so much as without him I shall not be able to liue. And this is all, deere Ladie, that I am able to say vnto you of the Musician whose voyce hath pleased you so well, as by it alone you might coniecture, that he is not a horse-boy as you said, but rather a Lord of soules, and townes, as I affirmed.

Speake no more Ladie Clara (quoth Dorotea, at that sea∣son kissing her a thousand times:) speake no more I say, but haue patience vntill it be day-light; for I hope in God so to direct your affaires, as that they shall haue the fortunate suc∣cesse, that so honest beginning deserue. Alas Madam, quoth Donna Clara, what end may be expected, seeing his father is so noble and rich, as he would scarce deeme me worthy to be his sonnes seruant, how much lesse his spouse? and for mee to marry my selfe vnknowne to my father, I would not doe it for all the world. I desire no other thing, but that the young Gentleman would returne home againe, and leaue me alone; perhaps, by not seeing him, and the great distance of the way which we are to trauell, my paine which now so much presseth me, will be somewhat attained, although I dare say, that this remedie which now I haue imagined would auaile me but little: for I know not whence with the vengeance, or by what way this affection which I beare him got into me, seeing both I and he are so young as we be, for I beleeue we are much of an age, and I am not yet full six∣teene; nor shall be as my father saies, vntil Michaelmas next. Dorotea could not contain her laughter, hearing how chil∣dishly Donna Clara spoke, to whom she said, Lady let vs re∣pose

againe, and sleepe that little part of the night which re∣maines, and when God sends day light we will prosper, or my hands shall faile me: with this they held their peace, and all the Inne was drowned in profound silence; only the Inkee∣pers daughter, and Maritornes were not a sleepe, but know∣ing very wel Don-Quixotes peccant humor, and that he was armed and on horsebacke without the Inne keeping guard, both of them consorted together, and agreed to be some∣way merry with him, or at least to passe ouer some time, in hearing him speake rauingly.

It is therefore to be vnderstood that there was not in all the Inne any window, which looked out into the field, but one hole in a barne, out of which they were wont to cast their straw: to this hole came the two demy-damzels, and saw Don-Quixote mounted and leaning on his Iauelin, and breathing forth, euer and anone, so dolefull and deepe sighes as it seemed his soule was plucked away by euery one of them: and they noted besides how he said with a soft and a morous voice: O my Ladie Dulcinea of Toboso, the sonne of all beauty, the end and quintessence of discretion, the trea∣sury of sweet countenance and carriage, the storehouse of honesty: and finally the Idea of all that which is profitable, modest, or delightfull in the world, and what might thy La∣diship be doing at this present? Hast thou perhaps thy mind now vpon thy captiue knight, that most wittingly exposeth himselfe to so many dangers for thy sake, giue vnto me ti∣dings of her, O thou Luminary of the three faces, peraduen∣ture thou dost now with enuy enough behold her, either walking through some gallery of her sumptuous Pallaces, or leaning on some bay window and thinking how (sauing her honour and greatnesse) she shall mitigate, and asswage the torture which this mine oppressed hart indures for her loue, what glory she shall giue for my paines, what quiet to my cares, what life to my death, and what guerdon to my serui∣ces. And thou sonne, which art as I beleeue, by this time sad∣ling of thy horses to get away earely, and go out to see my

Mistresse, I request thee as soone as thou shall see her to sa∣lute her in my behalfe, but beware that when thou lookest on her, and dost greet her, that thou doe not kisse her on the face, for if thou dost I wil become more iealous of thee, then euer thou wast of the swift ingrate which made thee to run and sweat so much through the plaines of Thessalia, or the brinks of Peneo for I haue forgotten through which of them thou rannest so iealous and inamored. To this point arriued Don-Quixote, whē the Inkeepers daughter began to cal him softly vnto her and say; Sir Knight approach a little hither∣ward if you please. At which voice Don-Quixote turned his head and saw by the light of the Moone which shined then very clearely, that hee was called too from the hole, which he accounted to be a faire window ful of yron barres, & those costly gylded with gold, well befitting so rich a Ca∣stle as he imagined that Inne to be, and presently in a mo∣ment he forged to his owne fancie, that once againe as shee had done before, the beautifull Damzell daughter to the La∣die of that Castle, ouercome by his loue, did returne to so∣licite him: and with this thought, because he would not shew himselfe discourteous and vngratefull, he turned Ro∣zanante about, and came ouer to the hole, and then hauing beheld the two wench hee said: I take pitie on you beau∣tiful Lady, that you haue placed your amorous thoughts in a place whence it is not possible▪ to haue any correspondence answerable to the desert of your high worth and beauty, whereof you are in no sort to cōdemne this miserable knight errant, whom loue hath wholy dishabled to surrender his will to be any other then to her, whom at the first sight he made absolute mistresse of his soule. Pardon me therefore good Ladie and retire your selfe to your chamber, and make me not, by any further insinuation of your desires, more vnthankfull and discourteous then I would be: and if through the loue that you beare me, you find in me any o∣ther thing wherewethall I may serue and pleasure you, so that it be not loue it selfe, demaund it boldly, for I do sweare

vnto you by mine absence yet sweetest enemy, to bestow it vpon you incontinently, yea though it be a loke of Medusas haires, which are all of Snakes, or the very Sunne beames in∣closed in a violl of glasse.

My Ladie needes none of those things Sir Knight answe∣red Maritornes: what doth shee then want discreet Matron, quoth Don-Quixote? only one of your faire hands, said Maritornes, that therewithall shee may disburden her selfe of some part of those violent desires, which compelled her to come to this window, with so great danger of her honour; for if her Lord and Father knew of her comming, the least slice he would take of her should bee at the least an eare. I would faine once see that, quoth Don-Quixote, but I am sure he will beware how he doe it, if he haue no list to make the most disastrous end that euer father made in this world, for hauing laied violent hands on the delicate limmes of his amorous daughter. Maritornes verily perswaded her selfe, that Don-Quixote would giue vp his hand as he was reque∣sted; and hauing already contriued in her minde what shee would doe, descended with all hast from the hole, and go∣ing into the stable, fetched out Sancho Pancas his Asses hal∣ter, and returned againe with very great speede, iust as Don-Quixote (standing vp on Rozinantes saddle, that hee might the better reach the barred windowes, whereat he imagined the wounded Damzel remained) did, stretching vp his hand, say vnto her. Hold Lady the hand, or as I may better say, the executioner of earthly miscreants: hold I say that hand, which no other woman euer touched before, not euen shee her selfe that hath intyre possession of my whole body, nor doe I giue it to you, to the end you should kisse it; but that you may behold the contexture of the sinnewes, the knitting of the muscles, and the spaciosity and breadth of the veines, whereby you may collect how great ought the force of that arme to be whereunto such a hand is knit. We shall see that presently, quoth Maritornes, and then making a running knot on the halter, shee cast it on the wrest of his hand, and

then descending from the hole, shee tyed the other end of the halter very fast to the locke of the barne dore. Don-Quixote feeling the roughnesse of the halter about his wrest, said: It rather seemes that you grate my hand, then that you cherish it: but yet I pray you, not to handle it so roughly, seeing it is in no fault of the euill which my will doth vnto you: nor is it comly that you should reuenge or disburden the whole bulke of your indignation on so small a part: re∣member that those which loue well, doe not take so cruell reuenge. But no body gaue eare to these wordes of Don-Quixote: for as soone as Maritornes had tyed him, shee and the other almost burst for laughter, ranne away, and left him tyed in such manner, as it was impossible for him to loose himselfe.

He stood as we haue recounted, on Rozinante his saddle, hauing all his arme thrust in at the hole, and fastned by the wrest to the locke: and was in very great doubt and feare, that if Rozinante budged neuer so little on any side hee should fall and hang by the arme; and therefore he durst not once vse the least motion of the world, although he might well haue expected from Rozinantes patience, and mild spi∣rit, that if he were suffered, he would stand still a whole age without stirring himselfe. In fine, Don-Quixote seeing him selfe tyed, and that the Ladies were departed, began straight to imagine that all that had beene done by way of inchaunt∣ment, as the last time, when in the very fame Castle the in∣chanted Moore (the Carrier) had so fairely belaboured him: and then to himselfe did he execrate his own want of discre∣tion & discourse, seeing that hauing escaped out of that castle so euill dight the first time, he would after aduenture to enter into it the second: for it was generally obserued by Knights errant, that when they had once tried an aduenture, & could not finish it, it was a token that it was not reserued for them, but for some other; and therefore would neuer proue it a∣gaine. Yet for all this he drew forward his arme, to see if he might deliuer himselfe; but he was so well bound, as all his

indeauours proued vaine. It is true that he drew it very wa∣rily, least Rozinante should stirre: and although hee would faine haue set, and setled himselfe in the saddle, yet could he doe no other but stand, or leaue the arme behinde. There was many a wish for Amadis his sword, against which no in∣chauntment whatsoeuer could preuaile: there succeeded the malediction of his fates; there the exaggerating of the want that the world should haue of his presence, all the while hee aboade inchaunted (as he infallibly beleeued he was) in that place. There he a new remembred his beloued Lady Dulci∣nea of Toboso: There did hee call oft enough on his good Squire Sancho Panca, who intombed in the bowels of sleep, and stretched along on the pannell of his Asse, did dreame, at that instant, but little of the mother that bore him. There he inuoked the wisemen Lirgandeo and Aquife, to helpe him: and finally, the morning did also there ouertake him, so full of despaire and confusion, as hee roared like a Bull; for hee had no hope that by day light any cure could bee found for his care, which he deemed would be euerlasting, because he fully accompted himselfe inchaunted; and was the more in∣duced to thinke so, because he saw that Rozinante did not moue little nor much, and therefore he supposed, that both he and his horse should abide in that state without eating, drinking, or sleeping, vntill that either the malignant influ∣ence of the Starres were passed, or some greater inchaunter had disenchaunted him.

But he deceiued himselfe much in his beleefe; for scarce did the day begin to peepe, when there arriued foure horse∣men to the Inne dore very well appointed, and hauing their snaphaunces banging at the pomell of their saddles. They called at the Inne dore (which yet stood shut) and knocked very hard; which being perceiued by Don-Quixote from the place where he stood Centinel, he said with a very lowd, and arrogant voice. Knights or Squires, or whatsoeuer else yee be, you are not to knocke any more at the gates of that Castle, seeing it is euident, that at such houres as this, either

they which are within, doe repose them, or else are not wont to open Fortresses vntill Phoebus hath spread his beames o∣uer the earth: therefore stand backe, and expect till it bee cleare day, and then we will see whether it be iust or no that they open their gates vnto you. What a Diuell, what Ca∣stle or Fortresse is this, quoth one of them, that it should bind vs to vse all those circumstances? if thou beest the Inkeeper, command that the dore bee opened; for we are trauailers, that will carry no longer then to bait our horses, and away, for we ride in post hast. Doth it seeme to you, Gentlemen, quoth Don-Quixote, that I looke like an Inkeeper? I know not what thou lookest like, answered the other, but well I know that thou speakest madly, in calling this Inne a Castle. It is a Castle, replyed Don-Quixote, yea and that one of the best in this Prouince; and it hath people within it which haue had a Scepter in hand, and a Crowne on their head: It were better said quite contrary, replyed the trauailer, the Scepter on the head, and the Crowne in the hand. But perhaps (and so it may well be) there is some company of players within, who doe very vsually hold the Scepters, and weare those crownes whereof thou talkest: for in such a paultry Inne as this is, and where I heare so little noise, I cannot beleeue a∣ny one to be lodged worthy to weare a crowne, or beare a scepter. Thou knowest but little of the world, replyed Don-Quixote, seeing thou dost so much ignore the chances that are wont to befall in Chiualry. The fellowes of him that en∣tertained this prolixe dialogue with Don-Quixote, waxed weary to heare them speake idlely so long together, and therefore turned againe to knocke with great fury at the dore, and that in such sort, as they not only waked the In-keeper, but also all the guests: and so he arose to demaund their pleasure.

In the meane while it hapned, that one of the horses whereon they rode drew neare to smell Rozinante, that me∣lancholy and sadly with his eares cast downe, did sustayne without mouing his outstretched Lord: and he being indeed

of flesh and bloud, although hee resembled a blocke of wood, could not choose but feele it, and turne to smell him againe, who had thus come to cherish and entertaine him: and scarce had he stirred but a thought from thence, when Don-Quixotes feete, that were ioyned, slipt asunder, and tumbling from the saddle, had doubtlesly fallen to the ground, had he not remayned hanging by the arme: a thing that caused him to indure so much paine, as he verily belee∣ued that either his wrest was a cutting, or his arme a tearing off from his body: and he hung so neare to the ground, as he touched it with the tops of his toes; all which turned to his preiudice; for hauing felt the little which he wanted to the setting of his feete wholly on the earth, hee laboured and drew all that he might to reach it; much like vnto those that get the strapado, with the condition to touch or not to touch; who are themselues a cause to increase their owne torture, by the earnestnesse wherewith they stretch themselues; de∣ceiued by the hope they haue to touch the ground if they can stretch themselues but a little further.